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vaporvipermedia · 2 years ago

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THE SIRENS🌊🎶🧜‍♀️

Backstory/Situation:

The Sirens were outcasts in the Coral Sea, regarded as bad omens and invasive creatures due to their ability to read the minds of both creatures and humans in order to lure them to their doom. So their time there was not very great to say the least. The three of them weren’t even close and yet they still ended up being friends. The Sirens more or so became a sisterhood finding comfort in each other’s presence.

How they got into NRC:

After stealing some food from a well known family runned Coral Sea restaurant, The Sirens made it to the surface to hide from the obviously angry owners. While trying to enjoy their soggy wet meals, a human ended up finding them. But not just any human, but a prince from The Aquatius Kingdom, Malachi Fotea.

At first, the trio were apprehensive of Malachi. After all this was their first time encountering a human and had no idea how to deal with them, so they ducked back into the sea. It took a little bit of corasing from the Prince to bring these scared creatures back but his calls ended up making them curious.

From sneaking out of his castle to tell them stories of cultures from different homelands he researched his kingdom’s secrets and even told the tale of two rival magic schools RSA & NRC. Which intrigued the girls most.

They already liked Malachi and considered him their first close human friend. So possibly enrolling in the same school he is, RSA, would not only be fun to hang out with, but would also allow them to turn over a new leaf in their lives by evolving their magic as a sort of middle finger to the merfolk that pushed them away.

So the Sirens decided to go to "Land Boot Camp" and study in order to improve their magic. Even working on their unique magic and entrancing vocals. The girls were finally accepted...to the school they didn't want, NRC, after their final day of boot camp and training.

Unfortunately for The Sirens, NRC discovered their magical abilities before RSA could. After spotting a Black Horse Carriage approaching them at high speed, they all had to learn the hard way. Having to wave goodbye to Malachi promising to meet each other when the time comes.

All of this hard work, only to end up at the wrong school.

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Siren’s Description

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Mitzy (She/They)

Age: 18

Best Subject: Astrology

Birthday: April 19th

Class/Grade: 3-D

Club: Film Studies

Height: 5’6(167cm)

Hobby: Turning everyone into her makeup guinea pigs

Homeland: Coral Sea

Likes: “Cute” or “Cool” people (personality wise/appearance wise)

Dislikes: “Boring” and “Bland” people (personality wise/ appearance wise)

Unique magic: Bizarre Belt

Her songs are able to put people into mass hysteria, making people see illusions and even cause others to attack people they’re allies with.

Mitzy’s UM is pretty much her unique song along with her other sisters. This melody requires loud belting in a hypnotic but strange tone of voice. The tone gradually shifts from soft and quiet to jagged and harsh melodies, as if harsh ocean waves are crashing into someone's ear while they listen to this.

Personality:

When it comes to Mitzy's Personality, she is highly extroverted & loves socializing with people she knows nothing about. They essentially like being friends with people who aren’t “boring”. Mitzy never had a fun or relaxing moment during their time in the Coral Sea. She wants some excitement in her life! So, if your whole demeanor is just bland…they’ll probably won’t be interested in talking to you.

Also she’ll absolutely claw you if you mess up her hair, nails and clothing she puts a lot of time into that. But besides all of that she’s pretty cheerful and loves running up to people she finds adorable or cool.

Mitzy would honestly just ramble about whatever goes inside her head to someone she just met, only for her to give you her number after.

And yes she will be expecting you to answer back.

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Grace (She/Her)

Age: 19

Best Subject: Potionology

Birthday: August 23rd

Class/Grade: 3-C

Club: Science Club

Height: 5’8 (172cm)

Hobby: Collecting different types of mugs and tea sets

(Grace has a whole cabinet in her room filled with her findings. She also just loves having a tea break with her sisters)

Homeland: Coral Sea

Likes: Being praised whenever she completes a task

Dislikes: Feeling useless or Cowardly

Unique magic: Melancholic Lullaby

Grace’s song essentially forces everyone in her vicinity to uncontrollably cry their eyes out making their vision extremely cloudy and blurry.

This melody requires a soft and melodic tone, making the atmosphere around them shift into song full of sorrow and hopelessness. This song not only brings people to tears, but it also reminds them of past experiences that caused them to feel this way at the time. Making them relive a memory they wished to forget and suppress as their tears flow out from their eyes. Often at times tiring out the ones affected.

Personality:

Grace is very introverted and at points tends to be completely silent. Ever since she first met the sirens, she’s always felt like she was in the way or too cowardly whenever they got into trouble with some apex predators. Grace thought that coming to the surface would give her a better chance at changing her weak-willed nature.

From getting good grades, speaking up for herself, helping out whenever she can etc. This is what Grace strives to accomplish in order to reach her goal of becoming a natural born leader and an extraordinary alchemist due to her love of Alchemy & Potion making. And maybe getting some praise for her hard work along the way.

She’s in need of a confidence boost…

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Coco (She/Her)

Age: 19

Best Subject: Swimming

Birthday: January 16th

Class/Grade: 3-C

Club: Track & Field

Height: 5’11 (180cm)

Hobby: Herbalism

(Usually practices this whenever the Sirens are under the weather or just to use it in a therapeutic way to calm herself and her sisters down)

Homeland: Coral Sea

Likes: Making people at ease

Dislikes: Getting stressed

Unique magic: Healing Vibrato

Coco’s song is able to heal others from wounds to poisoning in a matter of seconds.

Her melody is a more relaxing but vibrant tune that feels soothing to the soul. Making the person she’s healing warm inside as if the sun itself is beaming in their hearts. After the song ends, the person affected feels more energized and feels like a weight has been completely lifted off their shoulders.

Personality:

Coco is a very loyal and patient person, even when she is frustrated. She always had that big sister energy that the sirens felt at ease with. Finding Mitzy and Grace was the best thing that could have happened to Coco.

For the longest time, she’s felt empty and hollow since she had no family or friends. If she had a problem, she had to solve it on her own. Injured? Swim it off, Hungry? Steal to save your skin, Sad & Stressed out? Suck it up, you don’t have time for unnecessary emotions. Which made matters worse for her.

Coco had not only calmed down after finding the other sirens, but she had also found a new purpose in her life. Her new sisters' personalities and quirks made her feel warm on the inside, finally realizing she now has a family of her own. Which made her protective of the girls.

Coco promised that she would make their time on the surface more exciting and relaxing. So if they ever had a problem, they would tell her everything and she would handle the rest.

It’s the least she can do for the people who changed her lonely life.

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The Sirens’ Trivia

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Mitzy:

Has a Bestie Journal where she writes about all of the friends she has gained throughout her years in NRC. Each page is full of glitter, stickers, ribbons, whatever else is in her room and of course a picture of the friend in question.

Mitzy dyed all of the Sirens’ hair when they first got to the surface. Of course she ended up needing help from Divus since the TwisTube tutorials weren’t working.

Is not afraid to go for the throat when someone talks shit behind their back. If you start it Mitzy will end it.

Grace:

While Grace doesn’t talk all that much around people in public, she’s super talkative around the Sirens’ and Divus. Especially if it’s on a good day for her! Like getting good grades on her exams, completing a list of chores she made for herself, having nice customers at the Monstro Lounge etc. Grace would talk for hours and the girls don’t mind one bit.

Grace wants to communicate with her fellow science club members Trey & Rook but is too shy to speak to them. Maybe one day she’ll gain confidence.

Absolutely loves cats but is extremely allergic to them and often sneezes 5 times in a row when around one.

Coco:

Loves picking up people shorter than her. If you’re lucky or unlucky enough she’ll show you off to her sisters. “Look at this little squirt I found on my way to the dorms.”

Coco’s room is filled up with smoked plants that’s used for stress relief. That’s why some students love coming by to her room whenever they’re in need of her.

THE AFFECTION MASTER! Coco gives out the best of hugs whenever someone is in need of comfort. It’s nice, loving, and just tight enough to put anyone at ease. Coco often does this for her sisters too so she knows for a fact that it works. Oh, and I can’t forget the words of confirmation she whispers out to the lucky person in need of affection.

The Sisters:

They are under the watchful eye of Divus after Crowley assigned him to make sure their time in NRC is most comfortable. Especially, after an incident where Grace started to cry realizing that she didn’t go to the school of her dreams, RSA. He basically became the girls father figure and even helped them study for up and coming tests/exams. Divus basically adores them for their taste in fashion & quick learning abilities!

The Sisters even asked Divus to tailor their uniforms for NRC since the original uniforms were boring to them. (Mostly to Mitzy)

Instead of the regular “Duo Magic” the Sirens can team up to create Trio Magic called “The Sirens’ Shanty.”

Often sing songs on special events or weekends for that good Monstro profit!

The Sirens actually knew Orval when they were kids but didn’t interact all that much due to his severe social anxiety.

Bonus Sketches/Planning:

Reblogs>Likes

#twisted wonderland #twst oc #oc #twisted oc #twst #my artwork #twisted wonderland oc #octavinelle oc #octavinelle #The Sirens #twst coco #twst grace #twst mitzy #coco #mitzy #grace #divus crewel #orval blackwell #Asks about these girls are always welcomed

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theharpermovieblog · 7 months ago

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#HARPERSMOVIECOLLECTION

2024 MOVIE LIST

www.tumblr.com/theharpermovieblog

QUEER HORROR WEEK

I re-watched Cat People (1942)

Part 3 of 3 of Queer Horror Week to celebrate pride.

A Serbian woman believes she is carrying a curse from her homeland.

Director Jacques Tourneur has made some very good films, especially horror films. But, no other is as memorable as 1942's "Cat People", a film that explores female sexuality and lesbianism through horror.

I chose this as the last movie to watch for Queer Horror Week because it shows that we, the LGBTQ+ community, have always been around. Even during the heavily oppressive 20th century, we were part of the culture.

This is a very well made film, and while it doesn't always feel like a horror movie, it is one of the great examples of Queer Horror. "Cat People" plays like a drama for most of it's runtime, which only adds more heft to the queer subtext. You're meant to feel the true meaning of things before the supernatural truly takes hold of the film's narrative. Some movies are queer coded, but this one is queer coded wink, wink, wink....this lady is having trouble pleasing her husband, do you get it yet? Okay now we can have her turn into a cat and stalk other women.

When the supernatural elements do kick in, in the second half, it's worth the wait. There are several iconic moments that still feel exciting all these years later.

"Cat People" is about a woman who desperately wants to be what society deems to be normal, because she knows and fears her true nature, and knows she doesn't fit this idea of normality. The character fights with shame and confusion throughout the film, which is directly linked to something she's keeping inside. Sure, in this case it's all hidden behind a supernatural feline curse, but viewed through a queer lens, the subtext is rather obvious. The film takes on the oppression of homosexuality, going so far as to show our lead physically freeing a panther from confinement.

If you love queer horror, if you love film, thenthis is an absolute must to see.

#cat people #queer horror #queer horror week

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the-kaedageist · 3 years ago

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The prompt for this snippet, requested by my friend Kat, was “Caleb starts a waltzing club at Soltryce”. I hope you all enjoy!

The waltzing club ended up being Jester’s idea. During one of her visits to Rexxentrum, she and Fjord had accompanied Caleb and a disguised Essek to the dance hall, where Caleb had cajoled Essek into a dance. After, as they sat back down, Jester propped her chin on her hands and peered at him.

Caleb was still weak to those eyes. “Ja?” he asked. “What can I do for you, Fraulein Lavorre?”

“You love to dance,” she stated. “You should do more of it!”

Whatever Caleb had been expecting, it was not that. “More of it?” he repeated.

“You’re a good teacher,” Jester continued. “You taught Essek the steps and he was SO bad at it when he started!” Across the table, Essek made a face at her, but it wasn’t as stern as the one he’d have given anyone else. “And you taught me! You should teach dancing.”

Caleb opened his mouth to reply…and realized that she had a point. He was busy at Soltryce, yes - but why not find a way to teach students how to dance as well?

Thus, the waltzing club was born.

The first week, Caleb only had four students in attendance. Thankfully, it was an even number, so he could pair them off and slowly teach them the steps to a waltz that he had learned himself when he was their age.

As he watched the students move around the room to music produced from a whimsical spell that Jester had taught him, his mind drifted back to the memories of his own youth, before Ikithon. When it had been just the three of them, happy and curious and so talented, and he’d had huge crushes on both of his closest friends that he felt like he could never do anything about…

“Professor?” a student called, snapping him out of his nostalgia and bringing him back to the present. It was a welcome reminder that he would never be that child again.

The next week, the number of students tripled dramatically. Presumably, the first bunch had told their friends to attend, and the classroom was filled with excited chatter as Caleb queued up the musical cantrip and asked the students from the first session to teach the waltz they’d learnt to the rest. With a lot of laughter and smiles, the students untangled their feet and slowly remembered the steps.

The waltzing club grew and grew. Week after week, more students joined, learning the dances from the ones who came before them. Some of them brought dances from their own homelands or cultures, and Caleb began to weave those in as well, allowing them to demonstrate and teach the steps as though sharing a part of themselves. One evening, feeling the thrill of something illicit, he even taught them a traditional dance from Xhorhas, practiced together with Essek in the study of his small house over laughter and wine, over and over until he remembered the steps well enough to teach.

The club had been running for an entire semester when he received his strangest visitor yet. He was helping one of his transfiguration students, a serious wide-eyed firbolg, walk her way through the steps of a new dance when a familiar voice sounded out behind him. “I should have known it was you behind this dancing club, Bren.”

He turned to take in the sight of Astrid, leaning against the door frame and watching with an expression that, after all this time, he no longer could read. He straightened, leaving his student to practice the dance on her own, and walked over to stand next to Astrid, mirroring her casual posture. In his head, flashes of memory superimposed themselves over the image of her; Astrid, seventeen and laughing as he spun her around; Astrid and Wulf, dancing beautifully as Bren tried to tease them and cause them to lose their footing. It didn’t hurt like it used to, not after so much time.

“Of course it was me,” he said in Zemnian. He thought for a moment and then added, “Would you care to dance?” Somehow, it didn’t feel like he’d opened a wound.

She considered it. Glanced around at the students, noting their smiles and the ease of their laughter. Possibly remembering a time long ago when theirs had been the same.

“I would love to,” she replied, and held out her hand.

#critical role #caleb widogast #jester lavorre #shadowgast #astrid beck #astrid becke #professor widogast #critical role fics #fic snippets #my fics #please pardon the author who has never danced in her life #these snippets are really stretching my ability to write what I don't know #it's good practice!

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beaudeanw · 4 years ago

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Soldier Boy- What can we expect?

- Possible spoilers ahead

Gif credit : @justjensenanddean

The Boys S3 will have Jensen Ackles as Soldier Boy - A Captain America-esque Supe, also known as the original superhero.

In the comic books, there are three versions of Soldier Boy. Ackles will be playing the first one. According to Eric Kripke, Soldier Boy is like the Homelander before Homelander. He has a similar kind of ambition & ego. It will just come in a different way.

He was a leader of the Team Payback - a Parody of The Avengers.

In the show, Soldier boy was the only one to ever exist.

Soldier Boy as a Character

As said above, Soldier Boy is touted to be very powerful. His powers are almost on the same level as Homelander.

According to a recent q&a with Kripke, he mentioned that Homelander will be threatened by Soldier Boy. Soldier Boy is said to be very Charming and Funny.

He will have this charisma that attracts the public towards him. As mentioned in the first episode of The Boys Season 2, Soldier Boy killed Nazis by a huge amount and he helped the Allies win the World War 2 against Germany. After that he went on to become a movie star and a huge mainstay of American culture.

During the course of S2 we saw some Easter eggs like his movie posters on the wall. Kripke compared his character to somewhat like John Wayne. If you google search John Wayne, you will get to know that he was conservative, racist, homophobic etc. John Wayne although famous for playing Soldiers in cinema, never served in WW2. He also had a complicated relationship with women.

Soldier Boy might take some similar route considering the fact that he is in fact from the 1940s. The q&a mentioned that he will be involved in a lot of Sex, Violence & Swears. Needless to say, soldier boy can totally be a. One of the 2018 tweets of Kripke said that Soldier Boy was involved in drugs & stuff. This might also be a part of his personality.

Since it's also said to be a parody of Cap America, Soldier Boy a complete anti-thesis of what former stands for. Cap America is sort of a moral, altruistic, kind & good superhero. Soldier Boy might be completely opposite. That he has no shame in hurting people & possesses no morals in order to get his work done & his ambition fulfilled. He can be the reason for the war crimes that America did after the WW2.

How the character might fit in S3

Now The Boys Season 2 ended with Stormfront becoming Stump-front. We have Homelander who got blackmailed by Queen Maeve with the footage from the airplane back from S1. We have Starlight & A- Train back in the Seven. However, the most important part is how both Vought & Homelander are completely screwed in the public eye. As we know in S2, Homelander was getting boo-ed by the public for indulging in war crimes. Now Stormfront's Nazi reveal should have some serious repercussions. The public people might boycott Vought because of their alleged ties with a literal Nazi. Homelander might not get the same love & respect in the public because he had love affair with her. We also have a Federal Bureau of Supe Affairs to keep Vought into check by Victoria Neumann, who is also a supe but thats not the point. The point is Vought needs a good PR to get themselves out of this mess.

Enter- Soldier Boy

Now there is a common theory that Vought must have kept him in some kind of facility & have him trapped. This is a very good possibility since that will mean that he is basically has no idea about the modern world. During S2 we saw a statue of Soldier Boy which showed that he sort of died in the 80s. So it will be interesting to see how Vought brings Soldier Boy back in the public eye.

Now Soldier Boy coming back to Vought can help them with Good PR. I mean who better than a Supe who killed Nazis in WW2 can help Vought clean up the Nazi shitstorm. He is the golden boy of patriotism. He is like a blue print of how they wanted Homelander to be when they created him the lab.

Another common theory that spread which was also kind of agreed by Laz Alonso, the actor who plays Mother's milk said that only his character until now never had something personal against a supe. We also learnt sort of MM's backstory in S2 which mentioned his father working against Vought & how he fought until he died. We have an idea that there is a possibility that both Soldier Boy & his father might have existed at the same point & SB might have something to do with his dad.

This can also be the reason why he vanished in the 80s & Vought lied about his death.

This also makes sense because at the end of S2, we saw all the members of The Boys seperated. One of the major reasons why they come back together is to help MM. I mean MM has been kind of a backbone keeping all of them together. A moral conscience. He is a good friend of all. So if he is in problem, the boys will come back together to help him for a change.

I am pretty sure that with Soldier Boy we will get to learn a lot about the dirty past of Vought & metaphorically, America.

Soldier Boy and Homelander

So first of all, Ackles' Soldier Boy & Homelander didn't have any sort of sexual relations. What happened in the comics was a sexual assault. That was Solder Boy #3. That character was a bumbling idiot, subservient to Homelander who got manipulated by him. It's also not logical for the show to have that kind of relationship of SB & HL. Homelander doesn't have that kink that is shown in the comics. Also, soldier boy in the show looks like has a dominating personality as opposed to of an idiot.

What Ackles is playing is Soldier Boy #1, the one fought in WW2 & as mentioned above, he is the only one to ever exist in the world of TV Show.

However, both of these characters have a lot of similarities. They are both powerful, egotistical, narcissistic, pathetic male superheroes. The difference is the situations they will be in. Homelander is currently in a problematic situation as his issue with wanting validation are bare open. He is emotionally at its weakest point. He wants to be loved. He longs for validation from the public which Maeve uses to threaten him. As he was made in a lab, he didn't have a normal childhood. He didn't have friends or anything. However, Soldier Boy was given Compound V when he was an adult. That means he might not require the same kind of validation. He is a very self-assured man. Also, since he was around in public life for decades, he has received love for years. So he not only he is physically strong, he might be emotionally capable against Homelander.

S3 might create a problem of Power Struggle.

Homelander might struggle to keep his head strong & possibly be threatened by Soldier Boy. Since the latter seems very confident, he might be able to take his position in Vought back. In the S2 premiere, we get to see how Homelander thinks of himself as indispensable for Vought as a company & how Stan Edgar shuts him down. Now think about how Homelander will react when Vought's original golden boy comes back & takes his what he thinks is his. There is a power struggle here. It's likely that Soldier Boy might corner him because of how popular he is in the public and how Homelander wants that same love that SB is getting. S3 might present a situation in front of him when a supe who might almost be as powerful as him & emotionally stronger than him kind of threatens both his power and position.

Soldier Boy and Stormfront

Speaking of Stormfront, Eric Kripke mentioned in a TV guide article that Soldier Boy had a connection with her when she was Liberty. Now both of them were created at the same time by the same man. Liberty was married to Frederick Vought but he then joined the Allies & injected Soldier Boy with Compound V. Now they are basically two sides of the same coin.

Some of this is from articles with Kripke's description of the character, some of them are common theories that have floated around & some of it is my predictions about what direction the character's storyline can take. This is majorly based on everything I have read, heard or watched. It doesn't mean that any of it will turn out the way it's written here. But I still hope this is helpful.

Anyway, I am very excited to see Jensen in this new role. I know he will rock it and I can't wait.

Some Articles I took into consideration -

#soldier boy #jensen ackles #the boys #the boys s3 #the boys tv #the boys amazon #Homelander #Stormfront #vought #solider boy #antony starr #aya cash #eric kripke

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vegalocity · 4 years ago

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Peachtea/TripSun angst idea. Nobody knew Wukong would disappear for 500 years so they're mourning until Xiaotian starts training with him. Tang composes himself to wait a little longer but Wukong just ignores all the signs. Until he gets into an argument with Tang and Tang ends up snapping "Why did you disappear for 500 years?!"

Okay so here’s the thing, I can only get behind the whole ‘The other Pilgrims ALL thought Wukong was dead and are PISSED at him now’ stuff, only, and I mean ONLY if Wukong either thought they all didn’t want to hear from him again anyway, or if he thought they were dead too.

....I mean my only contributions to all those ‘Reunion with Baije and Wujing’ posts were both ‘Wukong thought they were dead too’ so CLEARLY thats my read on the whole thing. I sincerely can’t see him just... NOT telling people he cared that much about that he was gonna bounce for that long to be alone on FFM, so if he knew they were alive he would have told them.

And then you know someone spotted that little shrine with the origami figures in the Special and I was there like:

So like, lets do something we’ll both enjoy here then because all of those reunion fics are almost exclusively centered around the trio, and we oh so rarely see Sanzang (whether he is Tang or not) get involved.

So like first off, assuming LMK is on a sci fi alternate earth instead of being in the future, there’s still a solid nine hundred or so years between the end of the Pilgrimage and the supposed time Wukong disappeared for Monkie Kid timeline (JTTW is set in like the 600s or so if i remember correctly, might be wrong about the exacts tho) so lets assume those nine hundred years were uneventful.

So yeah, idk the hows, the hows don’t matter. What DOES matter is Wukong somehow loses contact with the others and is somehow convinced they were all killed, had his last stand against DBK and then went off travelling for a century to come to terms with his brothers and his precious, darling, beloved Master all perishing due to his inability to protect them.

and meanwhile for the others he was just... GONE. Like he’d vanished off the face of the earth, And the last the three of them ever saw of him was the staff rooted into the mountain that now kept the Bull King below. Just in case maybe the tree of them would periodically head off to Flower Fruit Mountain and check in with the monkeys that could still talk, but after about a century it was clear. If he WAS still alive, he wasn’t coming back. And the idea that he’d purposefully leave all of them behind just for the hope that he WAS still alive would do his memory a disservice.

So when Wukong returns to FFM wouldn’t it be great if he like, JUST missed that last visit? Like DAYS after Sanzang, Baije and Wujing had been there for the final time to hold an impromptu funeral for their dead friend on his homeland and finally accept that he was gone, Wukong returns to the mountain and builds his little shrine for his dead friends... the Monkeys all look at eachother awkwardly and shrug, assuming this will be settled soon enough, surely it’ll be solved before too long.

And then another 400 years of kingly depression naps and the others falling in and out of contact with eachother as they adapt to the ever changing world around them later, Xiaotian snatches the staff from the bull family.

And... Look... It’s been a ROUGH 500 years on Sanzang now called simply Tang. He’d only recently tracked down Baije-now-called-Pigsy in the past... what Ten years? and was only tangentially aware of what Wujing-now-called-Sandy was up to. And... Look... LOOK. It’s ridiculous that he’s still hung up over losing Wukong as much as he is. He’s Well FUCKING aware it’s ridiculous. He should know better, he quite LITERALLY reached immortality through enlightenment. He KNOWS he should know better.

So why-... Why can’t he say his real name without his gut still twisting into knots? He still tells the stories because telling them behind a wall of detachment, pretending he wasn’t there on the action for most of them helps in some small way, but why does he have to always call him ‘the Monkey King’? What a question, he knows why. He gave his heart away when he was still mortal, and so mortal his heart will forever stay. Dead and returned to the stone with the impulsive monkey he’d given it to.

And then It’s not dead. Because he’s not dead. and honestly at first it’s just shock, it’s just reeling with the sheer tidal wave of feelings he had to spend hours meditating just to sort through. The three of them meet up after Xiaotian and Xiaojiao have turned in for the night to discuss what the FUCK just happened, and all three of them come away with different conclusions.

Baije is furious and will refuse to seek out Wukong unless its to tell him off for letting the three of them belive him dead, Wujing is sad and would like to see Wukong again to simply ask why he’d decided to cut the three of them out of his life like that, but doesn’t want to do it alone. And he’s...conflicted.

He wants this to be a joyous discovery. he wants to be so relieved and euphoric at his monkey still being there, having ALWAYS been there, that he wouldn’t be able to stop smiling for days on end. But he can’t. It’s all so... messy inside and he’s going to need to keep his distance if he wants to be able to approach Wukong with a level head. This was why attachments such as these were foolish he should have known better all those years ago but it was centuries too late now, and this confliction is what he has to suffer through as the result... wanting to laugh and cry and scream all at once because Wukong is ALIVE, he’d spent SO long in mourning for him, and HOW DARE HE ignore them all and let them assume the worst?!

So he hides behind that Scholar Tang persona while he sorts through his emotions. And it works for the most part.

And then New Years happens.

And... Look, Wukong’s been THROUGH it in the last 500 years. He’s done everything he could to just... GET OVER the loss of his love His Master and His brothers. he went through all the damn stages of grief,

Spent that first decade in denial poking around everywhere he could to see if any of them-ANY of them were in hiding somewhere, spent another three decades wandering the world and starting fights with other cultures divine warriors (and that Aphrodite chick was DEFINITELY hitting on him the entire time, extolling about how rarely she got to use her ‘Aria form’ whatever that meant) to work through his rage without actually getting himself in trouble with his own heavenly court. Spent another twenty years or so looking through as many underworlds as he could find, no matter how many of them really wanted to test just HOW immortal he was (Answer: Too Immortal for any of them) to see if ANYONE had anything he could work with, and always coming up empty. eventually crossed the ocean to the other landmass because he was tired of looking at all of these places and seeing either memories or wasted time looking for bargaining chips, and spent a decade or so deciding he hated Mexico and went back to China. and then spent another thirty years just procrastinating returning home to his mountain.

When he returns to flower fruit mountain its as though he’d never left. His monkeys greet him with excitement but he’s standing on the shores of his home he hasn’t seen in a century and... feels nothing. Like his ability to feel anything for anything beyond the people he’s lost is gone. He makes a little shrine that spends most of its time on a shelf that's difficult to be able to look at full on without craning your neck weirdly and if any of his subjects notice that he takes a bit too much care in folding the little paper figure of the monk as he sets the four figures up along the edge of the little thing none of them judge him over it. He’s rarely got the energy for tears anymore, but when he does it’s usually when that little figure catches his eye.

By the time Xiaotian crashes into his life he’s... getting better. At least he thinks he is. having the loud excitable boy in his life is helping chase the shadows away a little bit (though when they return oh how they scream) and he hears some stories of his friends on training days and... geez sometimes he’ll tell this or that story and Wukong will be so THOUROUGHLY reminded of someone that it just... hurts.

And then New Years happens.

And he finally sees him again -- And he finally meets Xiaotian’s friends

And he still doesn’t know how to feel it’s all SO MUCH -- And they feel familiar so he gives them all a quick glance with golden eyes

And he can only do the one thing that feels safe right now -- And oh... that makes sense. How lucky they all found eachother again after reincarnating.

Sanzang hides behind the Tang persona and lies with an energy that could only be harvested from the sheer maelstrom of emotions fighting for dominance -- and Wukong leaves before he says something incriminating because now he knows and he can’t Un-know.

He should have known better but its centuries too late. And it doesn’t even matter that he doesn’t know how to feel about this whole thing he HAS to keep seeing him, he can NOT let him vanish again -- This was a mistake, this was a mistake, he cannot face them all and see lack of recognition, he cannot have his brothers treating him only as Xiaotian’s mentor he can NOT handle looking at him and seeing a stranger.

He needs to at least TALK to him -- He can’t stay away

Wukong doesn’t start out hanging out at the Noodle Shop on down time, that’d be too much too quick, especially since Baije-.. Since Pigsy is clearly still pretty steamed for the whole ‘letting Xiaotian into the world of magic and monsters’ stuff. But he’ll often shapeshift and keep an eye on things like that... No he is NOT eavesdropping on the reincarnations of those three out of the ridiculous desperate desire to feel close to them again. Because he’d rather just love him miss them from afar than be treated as a stranger.

But of course Tang notices when he does. Every time. And every time he wants to say something but his throat feels too tight. That first day he’d fallen on the persona because it was all he felt he COULD do but now the very idea that he’d have to pretend to be someone else just to be able to speak to his monkey not his not anymore Him was completely out of the question. Tang’s actually surprised with himself the first time he finds his voice.

The conversations come quickly, neither of them quite content to ignore the other now that its become obvious. The conversations are mostly stilted, awkward. Wukong seems both unable to help himself from talking to him, but unwilling to LOOK at him. Tang’s best guess is that he somehow doesn’t recognize him, Had he really changed that much in the time they’d been apart? Had he really lost so much affection for his old master that he could no longer recognize him beneath a slight change in appearance? That might be the reason the Hurt finally starts to win in the eternal standoff between Joy and Sorrow in how this whole thing makes him feel.

And maybe it’s something simple, maybe Wukong is just barely starting to lower his guard a bit. Maybe just sharing a space with the man who once was the love of his life his master was finally starting to chalk over the rough edges his long since broken heart would constantly stab into him with. and he just SAYS something. Something probably innocuous, something he’d said a million times on the Journey alone. And to Tang it just... feels like he’s mocking him, like he’d known this whole time and had just been playing with his emotions in a way he wouldn’t have tolerated back then- so why should he tolerate it now?

And the first words out of his own mouth are “Bad Monkey!” and Wukong freezes as Tang begins to lecture him

How he’d spent a solid third of his time immortal in mourning over him, how he’d been the one to tell Baije and Wujing that it would be a disgrace to his memory to believe him alive and instead that he’d chosen to cut the lot of them out of his life, despite how much HE’D wanted to believe it too. How hurt he was to find out that not only he HAD been ignoring them for so long but also that he’d apparently had apparently not even recognized any of them when they HAD all seen each other again! How much he’d missed him, how happy he’d still been to see him again.

Yes, yes, pathetic, emotional baldy always bursting into tears at the simplest of things nothing’s changed etcetera etcetera- He hadn’t been lying on new years when he said he had a million questions, but all he really wanted to know was why? Why did he cut them out of his life, why did he shut HIM out? Why did you disappear for 500 years Wukong?

And Wukong reaches out, his hand is- shaking? and removes the glasses from right off his face--normal glass obviously, Baije had insisted they completed the scholarly look and annoyed him into compliance--

“You’re-” he hesitates, looks, almost afraid? “You’re not a reincarnation..?”

Oh...

Well now they both looked the part of fools.

Two sobbing fools clutching to eachother in the alleyway behind Pigsy’s shop, and oh MAN did they have some things to talk about, because Wukong was DEFINITELY coming back with him to his apartment for the night and then first thing in the morning he was going to visit his brothers to internalize that THEY weren’t reincarnations either and then he was going to have to explain where he’d been for that first century while they were all still looking for him to THEM too.

And yes he should have known better than to get attached to him in this way in the first place, it was disgraceful, the sheer misery it had brought alone was proof enough of that. But Wukong was nuzzling into his shoulder, and pressing those strange feeling monkey kisses across his cheeks and jaw, and his breath was hitching with pure relief and joy and it was for him-

And fuck it, he just didn’t care.

#Peachtea #Tripsun #hell yeah hell yeah hell yeah #Y'all should read 'from here the rain falls' on AO3 #REALLY great fic for this ship #and i haven't seen the Chow movies but i could follow along p. easily so there's that #letters to vega #it seems as though epople are sending me many things for this ship and i say #Keep em coming man we must make the content we wish to see in thsi world #hoo boy did this get LONG though

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themonotonysyndrome · 4 years ago

Note

I know you have plans for the winter break already but what if in that time nothing bad happens and the boys invited the girls to their homelands?

Sayaka’s invited by Deuce to go meet his mother as his closest friends (both totally obvious that everyone sees it as guy invites his girlfriend to his mom for the first time). It’d be so wholesome, with Deuce’mom lightly teases them but very grateful that her son managed to befriend a good girl like Sayaka. And since they’re in the Rose Country, they can go meet Ace and the others!

Kyoko probably goes with Ruggie. He’s self-conscious about his poor neighborhood but after all the time they spent together, relating to each other’s hardships they are more comfortable with one another. She’d get along well with everyone there, especially the kids even if she acts grumpy and denies that she cares about them. The sight of everyone in the poor but close-knited community leaves her with a bittersweet feeling as she remembers her family. But hearing Ruggie’s grandma says that if she doesn’t mind she’s welcome to visit them anytime aling with the neighbor kids cheerfully chirping that they want to see nee-chan again warms her heart

(Oohh what if she decides to stay??)

Homura goes with Kalim and Jamil to the Country of Hot Sands, meeting both of them families. She can’t help but feel uncomfortable with how many ppl there are, and she keeps her guard up even more knowing that Kalim’s life could be targeted at any time. Still, witnessing Kalim being a big brother to his siblings (it’s clear that they love him a lot, even if their own mothers want him out of the picture) and how Jamil’s family being more reserved yet clearly shows that they deeply care for him is heartwarming. She’s grateful that they treat her as a precious friend of their sons. For once in her life, she’s able to understand what family love is like. (Kalim’s dad secretly welcomes the idea of having Homura as Kalim’s wife)

Even though Mami is closer to Vil and Rook, I see her going to Epel’s village, partly because we know very little about Vil’s family and nothing about Rook’s. Although she and him are the only teens around, Mami enjoys the peaceful atmosphere and how caring the people there are. Plus watching him freely being himself and being obviously happy around his family brings a smile to her face. It reminds her of her own parents and for a moment she has a solemn expression before snapping out of it to join in the fun with everyone. Even if her duty as Magical Girl will keep her to find a way back, she’s going to cherish all the memories and all the friends she made here in Twisted Wonderland

Madoka would be so out of place in the Valley of Thorns. She’s most likely be the only human there and will be faced with many looks, but Lilia and the others will be by her side no matter what. And even though it’s nerve wrecking to be so far away from her friends the experience of visiting the Diasomnia’s homeland soon fills her with wonder. Once she shows her magic everyone slowly starts to be more welcoming to her.

Let’s give these girls more happiness! I love the idea that the boys bring the girls that sorted into their dorm to their homelands & meet their families! Let’s do this.

Sayaka would feel a little awkward at first. I mean, a guy has never invited her to meet his family and homeland before! (Kyousuke doesn’t count here). It’ll be funny that both her and Sayaka doesn’t think too much about the invitation, just good friends, right? Everyone else will be like, “Ah, young love! One day these oblivious idiots will realise it, no worries!” Deuce’s mom would definitely be delighted over Sayaka and adores her! She believes that she’s a good girl and friend to her son and if those two combined? She hopes they can continue to support one another. After hanging out with Deuce’s mom and helping out around the house because Sayaka would insist it, they would go out to hang out with Ace and the rest of the Heartslabyul gang too! Cater would probably drop by at the Rose Kingdom too. Sayaka would want to keep close to Riddle in case his mother did anything to him. And for that lady’s sake? Riddle is gonna be a lot more outspoken and independent from his mother lest Sayaka decides to ‘save’ her too.

Ruggie had sheepishly and hesitantly offer Kyouko if she would like to come home with him during the Winter Break. Kyouko, at first, doesn’t understand why he’s so self-conscious about it until he brought her to the slums and poor neighbourhood. He worries if it’ll put her off, but to his immense relief and pleasant surprise, Kyouko feels at ease. Right at home, in fact. He would internally chastise himself, he remembers that Kyouko used to live on the streets back where she comes from after the death of her family. You bet this girl gets along well everyone in Ruggie’s home. Despite the environment, Kyouko would quietly yet fiercely thanked him for bringing her to meet his grandma and the close-knitted community he lives with. For now, it’s alright to bask in this warm feeling of having a family again. And you know what? These two would also happily accept Leona offers to meet with him in his palace. He’d grumbled about their noisy presence but compared to dealing with the judgemental servants and annoying family members, Leona enjoys having them with him. Kyouko wonders if Jack would like to hang out with them too.

(wouldn’t it be nice if Kyouko, Mami and even Sayaka will be hesitant to go back to Mitakihara City? They found love, family and acceptance in Twisted Wonderland with these boys. Madoka would be torn about at this point, Lilia has become her second Dad in all but blood and name. And Homura? This is perfect for her; so bittersweet. She would rather have the other girls live her while she goes back to Mitakihara City. Let her deal with Kyuubey & Walpurgisnacht. She’ll gladly face the nightmares if it means Madoka and everyone else can live happily. PS: I was listening to Jungkook’s Still With You so kudos for making myself sad).

At first, Homura is very reluctant to be separated from Madoka. It took not only Madoka & Lilia’s constant assurance that she’ll be safe and sound but also Malleus in a staring competition with Homura that ended with, “Do you look down on my power and capabilities to keep the Fairy safe?” Cue Sebek spluttering and shrieking in the background, being restrained by an exasperated Silver, at how Homura is underestimating his young master. In the end, she takes up on Kalim’s invitation to the Land of Hot Sands. She’s gotten used to the weather, clothes and culture practice in Scarabia, so adapting to the Land of Hot Sands is not a problem for her. But yes, she definitely feels uncomfortable with how large the Al-Asim family is! Her guards are constantly up despite the warm welcome she receives; she makes sure to be polite though, after all, she is a guest in their home?? Manor?? Palace?? Yeah. She’s cautious and friendly to his Dad, his mother and the other wives but a bit more relax towards Kalim’s siblings. Even the older ones. I feel that she’s patient to their questions and invitations to play. Homura also takes the time to visit Jamil and his reserved family. She never bothered by status before so like Sayaka, she would offer her help around their house too. All in all, I think both families would thank her for looking out for their sons. It’ll be funny if the night before they went back to NRC, Kalim’s dad pull him aside, telling him he approves if he wants to make Homura his wife. We don’t know if Homura even has a family in the anime so it’s a nice to experience what being in a family feels like. (Let’s just hope neither family ever discover the extent she would do to bring back a dead Kalim, yes?).

Oh! Oh! I think that’s a good idea! Having Epel inviting Mami to the Village of Harvest. Mami portrays herself as a high-class, sort of noble lady with her fancy teas, ladylike-behaviour and expensive looking apartment, but you know? She’s more than happy to help him around the farm! The serene and quiet atmosphere is a breath of fresh air to her. She’s charming the old ladies and gentlemen left and right with her beautiful smiles and sweet demeanour! Mami would giggle and keep it herself that it’s nice to see Epel slip back to his country accent and let loose without having to worry about Vil breathing down his neck. His family are so welcoming of her that she’s super touched and thanked Epel for bringing her to his home. I want Vil to often call Mami to ask if Epel is treating her right and that would lead him asking her to pass the phone to him and poor Epel complaining that even back home, he can’t run away from Vil! What is this nightmare!? Rook would just one day randomly appear without warning, scaring Mami and Epel.

If Madoka stands out in Diasomnia, she will definitely look out of place in Malleus’ castle and the Valley of Thorns! The only human around dark Faes, bright pink against black, a sweet thing among reserved and secretive society. I think Malleus’ castle would only be filled with those who he truly trust so she can roam around without worry, though whispers and gossips will sure travel across the land that their Prince finally brought a friend home! And a human, too! Cue of the castle staffs, guards and etc wondering about Madoka. She’ll ease into the scrutiny with Lilia and Silver besides her. As for Malleus? He’s just super excited to show her around, have sleepovers and etc. So precious!

#twisted wonderland #puella magi madoka magica #Puella Magi Holy Quintet #Holy Quintet in TW series #crossover

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karajaynetoday · 4 years ago

Text

everybody's got their demons, even wide awake or dreaming | part one

Photo credit: Jess Gleeson

Hello friends! Hope you’re having a lovely day wherever you are in the world. Thank you to everyone who voted in my little Google form thing on what they’d like to see me write next. Here’s Part One of my 5SOS x music journalist story. It’s a little angsty, and as the first chapter this is a lot of introduction to the OC and her story, but I hope you like it! It’s the first time I’ve written an OC into a fic, so I’d love to know your thoughts and if you’re interested in reading more about Lizzie and her adventures interviewing 5SOS.

Shout outs to @wheniminouterspace and @calumrose for helping me sense-check this concept, and @spicycal for giving me feedback on it in its draft stages. You’re all gems!

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: Fem!OC, minor swearing

More writing here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | if you’d like to be on my taglist go here

Lizzie Lawson was having a bit of a day. Her train had been late, she dropped her coffee moments after receiving it from the cute barista downstairs (and broke her favourite keep cup in the process), and her work computer had decided to run updates the moment she sat down at her desk. Maybe she shouldn’t have bothered to get out of bed this morning.

Her colleagues were tapping away at their keyboards, answering phone calls, and discussing upcoming story ideas with each other - the usual tasks, especially for a Monday morning. Lizzie, computerless and caffeine deprived, had to settle for a cup of instant coffee from the kitchenette, and had taken to tidying up her desk while her computer was restarting over and over again but still somehow not ready for use. She was on the floor, sorting through the snacks in her bottom desk drawer (crackers that were two months’ past their expiry date, some gummy worms, and what seemed like hundreds of cans of tuna) when James, the music editor, stuck his head out of his office and called for her.

“Lawson! Where are you?” James sounded confused. He could’ve sworn he’d seen Lizzie at her desk moments ago, and then suddenly she popped her head up like a meerkat.

“Jimbo! Here. What’s crack-a-lackin?” Lizzie responded, standing up and brushing herself off as she headed towards where James was standing in his office doorway.

“Got a pitch for ya. Step into my office, if you’re finished with your spring clean.” James chuckled as he stepped back inside and sat down on the couch opposite his desk.

A number of journalism awards were displayed on the shelf above the couch, and the floor to ceiling window overlooked Sydney’s CBD and its tall, grey buildings, with a glimpse of the harbour ocean in the distance. Lizzie had to admit she’d imagined herself in James’ desk chair more than a few times; the music editor of one of Australia’s leading youth and pop culture publishing companies, regularly travelling the world to interview award-winning artists, and assigning and guiding well-crafted investigative pieces on the entertainment industry and those within in.

But, in reality, Lizzie had only recently worked her way up to being in the music department, after a couple of years on the news desk and a series of casual internships at different publications around the place. But music journalism, and the passion she had for live performances and watching artists grow and develop their sounds and aesthetics over their careers, was where Lizzie had always wanted her career to go. She was grateful to James for having her on the team, but she also knew that he didn’t recruit just anyone - so her writing must’ve been strong enough to get her here. James was a good boss, salt of the earth, always had his team’s back, but he was also a little mysterious, and this morning’s meeting was one of those where his face was giving absolutely nothing away as Lizzie joined him on the couch in the office.

“So, what’s up?” Lizzie said, trying to hide the nervousness in her voice.

“Well, Lawson. You’ve only been on deck for a few months, but turns out my gut instinct about you has paid off. That profile you did on the 1975 last month has gotten some good feedback and traction out and about.” James spoke in a measured tone, pulling his laptop off the coffee table and opening it.

“Oh! Well, that’s… good, right?” Lizzie still couldn’t figure out exactly why she was in James’ office. Or why she was so nervous.

“Correct, it is good. It’s been great to see you come into your own a little bit, and develop your interview style. I also really appreciated you stepping in to cover the Matt Corby interview for Hannah the other day, when she had that stomach bug.” James continued, seemingly searching for an email or something on his laptop as he spoke.

“No worries! Hannah’s notes were really thorough, plus I definitely had a Matt Corby phase when he was on Australian Idol back in 2006! Oof, that fringe, you know?” Lizzie cringed internally when she heard herself starting to babble.

James snorted, before clearing his throat. “I’m sure Matt was glad the 2006 hairstyle didn’t take up too many words in the final profile piece. He was pretty happy with it though, and his management were too, according to the label. So happy, in fact, that they’re requested you to profile another one of their artists.”

James had Lizzie’s full attention now, and she still couldn’t read his expression. “Really? Me? Who’s the artist?” She asked, trying not to get too excited too soon.

“Yes, indeed, you. 5 Seconds of Summer, or 5SOS. They’ve got a new album due out in a month or so, and their publicist is keen to fly you out to LA for a few weeks to follow them around while they wrap things up in the studio, and do a profile piece on their journey to date. Are you familiar with their stuff? They’re offering us an exclusive, something about the album being linked to their homeland or something, so they wanted to go with an Australian media outlet first.” James set his laptop back down on the coffee table and angled it so Lizzie could see an email on the screen that had a few lines of text and a photo of a band onstage.

5SOS. Was Lizzie familiar? Oh yes, she was familiar. Lizzie Lawson hailed from the western suburbs, and 5SOS was the area’s biggest success story. Aussie boys made good, with millions of albums sold, billions of song streams, thousands of concerts played all around the world, that was their career to date. But for Lizzie, 5SOS were always a bit closer to home. She’d attended the same high school as three of the band members, and Michael Clifford was someone she called her best friend, once upon a time. Ashton had also befriended Lizzie’s older brother Lachlan when they’d worked together at KFC. That was years ago now, and they’d all fallen out of touch, because sometimes that’s just the way the universe works. You grow up and you move on and you don’t keep the same friends, because sometimes they move to the other side of the world and get super famous as successful musicians. Or something like that. Even if they know your deepest secrets, or biggest fears, or hopes and dreams, or you trust them more than anything, sometimes they still leave you.

Lizzie’s previous state of intrigue quickly became panic, because what if she wasn’t actually being chosen based on the merit of her work? What if the 5SOS team knew about her connection to the band, and were going to use it to manipulate her writing in some way? What if it was all a ploy to get her and Michael in the same room so he could finally call her out on what had gone down between them all those years ago? What if -

“Lawson! You on planet earth still, or wait?” James snapped his fingers in front of Lizzie’s face to get her attention. She shook her head to clear it, and wrung her hands together in her lap.

“Yep, I’m familiar with their work. A little fuzzy on the most recent work, but I have a bit of knowledge on a lot of their early stuff. And Youngblood, of course. Everyone knows Youngblood. ARIA song of the year, a billion streams, etc etc.” Lizzie spoke, meeting James’ gaze as he cocked his head at her curiously. He knew Lizzie had a tendency to get a little nervous when she was put on the spot, but there was something about her right now that was a little more unsettled than usual that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Good. Well, if you’re down, the label will cover three weeks accommodation in Los Angeles. Labels don’t usually do that kind of thing, but their manager is super keen for you to get enough quality time with the band to build up a solid profile piece. We’ll cover your daily expenses, I’ll send you instructions for the claiming app, and then we just need your passport to get the flights booked. Sound okay?”

“Y-yep. Yes. Okay. Right. When would I be leaving?” Lizzie pinched her thigh through her jeans to double check that she wasn’t dreaming, and that yes, this was actually happening.

“Friday midday. We’ll put some feelers out in LA, and see if there’s any other interviews you can do while you’re there, but your focus will be on 5SOS because they’re picking up the bill for your stay. But that being said, don’t let that sway what you write. They’ve requested you because they like your deep, detailed, open style of profiling, so don’t be afraid to ask some curly questions to get the answers that will craft the right piece, you know?” James spoke firmly, looking pointedly at Lizzie who quickly nodded in response.

“Right, well, I’ll cc you into this email chain with their publicist and manager, and we’ll go from there. You can hand over your other pieces to Hannah, you’ll need to spend the next few days prepping for LA and doing whatever research you need to feel ready. You’ve got this, Lizzie. I know you can do a great job.” James was trying to be encouraging, as he stood up and opened the door to his office, but Lizzie’s heart was pounding with nerves and she barely hear his words.

She walked back to her desk in a daze, and Hannah had to literally poke Lizzie in her side to get her attention and ask what James had said in the meeting. A few excited squeals and a bear hug later, Hannah was off and running talking about lists of things Lizzie needed to organise before her international adventure was due to begin in a few days’ time. Lizzie, on the other hand, still couldn’t believe it. What the fuck was happening?

The next few days flew by in a haze of emails, life admin, last minute shopping trips and a lot of deep breathing on Lizzie’s part, and before she knew it, she was wrangling her suitcase out of an Uber and into the international terminal at Sydney Airport. Lizzie, as a generally anxious person, had arrived the full three hours early for her flight, but her parents had treated her to a flight lounge guest pass (because they wanted her to know they were proud), so she was able to deal with her nerves by eating far too many complimentary croissants and hash browns.

Soon enough, the time to board the plane arrived, and Lizzie was grateful that she ended up in an empty row of seats, by some miracle. Praise be to the airline gods, or whichever higher power had decided she’d be able to at least try and get some sleep in the next fourteen hours. She’d set her phone and watch forward to Los Angeles time, so she could try and adjust her body clock accordingly, which meant that she’d have to stay up for a few hours at least.

Lizzie tried to be productive, and tapped away at her research notes on her laptop for a little while, before she found herself opening up the band’s instagram page in her browser. The four men staring back at Lizzie through the screen seemed a million miles away from the gangly, excitable teenagers she’d known all those years ago. There was an interesting intensity about them in the photograph, steely gazes and defined bodies under carefully selected clothing, but there was also a peacefulness in their poses beside one another. Like being together, in this moment captured minutes before heading onstage, was the most natural thing in the world. Lizzie found her eyes drawn towards Michael; his dirty blonde hair swept across his forehead (not dissimilar to the style he’d had in their high school days, to be honest), and it was accompanied by some scruffy facial hair and a dangly cross earring in one ear. His grey-green eyes seemed to peer right into her soul, and Lizzie involuntarily shivered at the thought of seeing him again in person in a day or so.

She was still anxious about whether or not this entire thing was a scam, but nonetheless, she was going to try her darndest to be a consummate professional, and write the best profile story of her life. In her research, Lizzie had reviewed some previous 5SOS interviews, and she’d cringed her way through their Rolling Stone interview from many years prior. She remembered reading it at the time it was published, unable to believe some of the words attributed to the boys she’d once called her friends, and the intense aftermath that followed. Understandably, they’d avoided in-depth profile interviews since, so Lizzie was incredibly curious as to why they’d changed their mind. Why now? Why her? She closed her laptop and drifted into sleep, curled up across three airplane seats and tucked under a thin blanket.

Lizzie’s shoulders and neck were stiff when she awoke, an hour or so before her flight was due to land. She used the in-flight wifi to check her emails quickly, and noted a new one from 5SOS’s publicist Danielle, which welcomed Lizzie to Los Angeles and explained that she should catch a taxi to her accommodation at the address listed, and that she should give her a call once she was checked in. Right. That seemed straight forward enough.

LAX customs were intimidating as ever (god, Lizzie was so nervous), but Lizzie made it through without incident and was able to quickly make her way into a cab with a driver who seemed familiar with her accommodation address. They drove her to a boutique-looking hotel, and when Lizzie checked in and made her way up to her room, she was pleasantly surprised at how nice it was. A queen-sized bed, a good desk for working at, a nice view from her balcony of the Hollywood Hills, a small kitchenette with a fridge and microwave, and a glorious bathroom that had a very enticing bath tub in it (Lizzie’s shoulders and neck were already thankful for the idea of being able to soak in some nice hot water for a while).

After checking the room for serial killers (better to be safe than sorry, right?) Lizzie had a quick shower and changed out of her travel trackies and oversized hoodie into a pair of jeans, a clean shirt and a blazer, before opening up her phone and scrolling down to Danielle’s contact. A few deep breaths were required before Lizzie built up the courage to press “call”.

“This is Danielle!” A cheery American accent answered on the other end of the line.

“H-hi Danielle, this is Lizzie, from Junkee Australia. You said in my email I should give you a call once I was all checked in, and I am, so…” Lizzie found herself giggling nervously and facepalmed.

“Lizzie, of course! How was your flight? Long and boring?”

“Yep, that about sums it up!” Danielle’s enthusiasm made Lizzie feel like she had to perk herself up a bit in conversation.

“Well, I’m sure you’re gagging for a nap, but we’ve got to get you adjusted to the timezone so we can make the most of your time here. I’m just finishing up something in the office, but I can swing by your hotel in about 45 minutes, and we can go over your story pitch and the band schedule for the next few weeks, and figure out your interview time slots and other things you can go along to observe, if that works for you?” Lizzie could hear Danielle’s keyboard clacking as she spoke.

“Sure, well, you have my number now, so just text me when you get here. I’ll try my best not to nap in the meantime.” Lizzie’s somewhat dry response got a laugh out of Danielle, who agreed and bid her farewell, ending the call.

Placing her phone down on the bedside table, Lizzie looked around the hotel room that was set to be her home away from home for the better part of the next month, and spotted a coffee machine on top of the mini fridge. If she was really going to keep her no-nap promise, caffeine was definitely in order.

True to her word, Danielle arrived at the hotel within the hour, and soon Lizzie found herself sat beside Danielle on a fancy couch tucked in a corner of the hotel lobby. Danielle had opened up her laptop, and also pulled a plastic folder of documents out of her tote bag.

“Okay, so… I’m sure you’ve done your own research, but here’s a few hard copies of the band bio, album press release, and a few other tidbits from the label, along with a hard copy of the band schedule. It’s all confidential and coded, the electronic version I’ve emailed you will have the proper locations for everything, but I thought a print out might be handy anyway. The boys are recording some stuff at the studio Calum has at his house tomorrow, so I figured we could introduce you there and then after that figure out what else you’d like to get done. There’s an industry showcase for some of the new songs at the end of the week, and then they’re doing various promo and album prep things, finalising mixes, photoshoots, etc, so there’s a bit of variety for you. Any initial thoughts on how you want to do the interviews for your profile?” Danielle rattled off, gazing at Lizzie expectantly when she finished speaking.

Lizzie blinked at her a few times before collecting herself. “In my research, I found it really interesting to hear the band and some of the fans talking about how 5SOS has evolved into the collective effort of four individual artists, not just the band as one artistic music entity, so I was hoping, if possible, to interview them individually, as well as observing them as a group. Would.. Would that be okay, do you think?”

Danielle pursed her lips, before breaking out into a smile.

“I think that sounds exactly like something the band would be willing to do. Damn, Matt Emsell was right - you do know your stuff.” She chuckled, handing the folder of documents over to Lizzie and pulling out the schedule that was on top.

“So studio at Calum’s tomorrow from 10am, I’ll swing by and collect you so we can do introductions, I’ll stick around for a bit just to make sure you’re all good but otherwise I’m just going to let you do your thing. The band have been doing this for long enough now, they don’t need their publicist hovering.”

The curiosity was killing Lizzie. She couldn’t not ask.

“Danielle, I’ve got to ask this, sorry. Do the band… know me? Know that I’m the one coming to interview them?” Lizzie managed to get out, avoiding eye contact.

“What do you mean?” Danielle cocked her head to one side, clearly confused at the question. “I sent them the Matt Corby piece you did, and they liked that, so that was one of the reasons we asked you out here. So they’re familiar with your work, if that’s what you’re asking?”

“No, um… oh god, I’ve made this super awkward now.” Lizzie laughed dryly, wringing her hands together. “I mean, I know them. Personally. Or at least I used to. I’m from Sydney, and I went to school with Luke, and Calum, and… Michael. So I was just wondering, um, if they realised that it was me and that was part of why I was asked to come to LA for this…Not really sure why that would make them choose me, but I just wanted to make sure we were all on the same page before tomorrow.” Lizzie finally dared to look up at Danielle, whose expression was unreadable.

“Hmm, well, that is interesting. As far as I know, that wasn’t a factor at all. We all genuinely liked your writing style, so whether or not the boys made the connection, I have no idea. They’re not super keen on any irrelevant personal life stuff making it into this piece though, so if this is going to be a problem for you, we should deal with it now.” Her tone was slightly less warm than before, and Lizzie could sense the protective publicist side of Danielle kicking in.

“Definitely not a problem. I entirely intend to be fully professional, and like you said, my writing will speak for itself. Just wanted to put it all out there. Not a problem for me.” Lizzie spoke up, willing herself to sound more confident than she felt.

“Good. We have no problems here then. I’ve got to run, but text me with any questions, otherwise I’ll see you at 9.30am tomorrow for the drive to Calum’s!” Danielle’s tone was nice and bright again, as she shut her laptop and gathered her belongings, patting Lizzie’s shoulder in what she assumed was some sort of attempt at calming her nerves.

It didn’t work though. Not a problem for Lizzie? Bullshit. Not a problem for 5SOS, and Michael in particular? Seemed unlikely.

Lizzie was worried she’d have a restless night’s sleep because of her overwhelming anxiety about the next day’s reunion, but the exhaustion from her travelling overtook her and she almost slept through her alarm. A quick shower and a shot of espresso later and Lizzie was downstairs waiting for Danielle to pick her up to head over to meet the band.

“Morning! How’d you sleep?” Danielle chirped as she rolled into the car park, her car window down.

“Very deeply, thank you! The room is really comfortable. Thanks again for organising.” Lizzie mentally urged herself to keep up the small talk as a way of hiding her nerves.

The car ride over was mostly quiet, but when they pulled up outside of what Lizzie assumed was Calum’s house, she definitely felt like she was about to vomit.

“Just so you know, I flagged our conversation last night with the band. About your pitch around the individual interviews, and also about your little… connection to them. Ashton didn’t seem to think it was a problem, so it should all be fine.” Danielle mused, as she opened her car door and hopped out. All Lizzie could do was nod, because her throat was dry and she was starting to panic. She blindly followed Danielle through the front gate and around the side of the house to a building in the backyard, Lizzie strained to hear what sounded like raised, male voices floating towards them as they approached. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it didn’t entirely sound positive.

Danielle knocked loudly on the door and shot Lizzie a reassuring smile, before the shouting subsided and it swung open. Calum Hood stood in the doorway, and Lizzie sucked in a breath. It’d been eight years, maybe more since she’d last seen Calum, and even then, had they spoken? She couldn’t remember.

Calum smiled at Danielle, and then his eyes flickered over to Lizzie, not quite carrying the same happiness, but not entirely losing it either.

“Morning, ladies. Welcome to casa di Calum, come on in.” He spoke with that scratchy, deep voice of his that Lizzie had reacquainted herself with when watching hours of interviews during her research.

Danielle stepped passed Calum into the room, and she indicated for Lizzie to follow, which she did. Lizzie could feel Calum’s gaze on her as she brushed past him, but the minute she stepped inside, any sense of warmth or welcome she’d felt before vanished.

Luke and Ashton were standing over by the sound recording panel, turning to look at Lizzie and Danielle as they entered. Lizzie thought she saw a hint of a smile on Luke’s face (they had survived Year 8 Maths together, after all… that had to count for something, right?), but Ashton was unreadable.

Entirely obvious, though, was the look of bitter disdain on Michael Clifford’s face when Lizzie finally spotted him hunched over on the couch along the wall. Those grey-green eyes were staring her down with a harsh glare. It had familiarity about it, Lizzie realised, but not in a good way.

Danielle cleared her throat in the silence, and turned to Lizzie.

“Well, I believe introductions might not be required, but in the interest of professionalism and courtesy - “ Lizzie didn’t miss Danielle’s pointed glance towards Michael, who was still scowling silently towards everyone - “Lizzie Lawson from Junkee, I would like you to meet Calum Hood, Ashton Irwin, Luke Hemmings and Michael Clifford, also collectively known as 5 Seconds of Summer or 5SOS.”

Lizzie waved, and then immediately cursed herself for being so goddamn awkward. She received a nod of recognition from Ashton, and small smiles from Luke and Calum. From Michael, more scowling. This was going to be a long three weeks.

“So, Lizzie, why don’t you go through the pitch for the profile that we discussed yesterday? The boys already have a bit of an idea, but I’m sure they’d love to hear it from you.” Danielle was being overly encouraging, but it worked, and Lizzie took a deep breath before speaking.

“Thanks, Danielle. And thank you to you guys, honestly. I know this is a little strange for all of us -”

“Fucking oath it is.” Lizzie heard Michael mutter under his breath, but she continued, undeterred.

“But, I’m really excited to have the opportunity to interview you and pull together this story. Especially on behalf of the Australian music media. I know they haven’t always given you the recognition you deserve, but I think this piece is a chance to overcome that. Anyway, the specific pitch I’d love to go with is reflective of you as individual artists, as well as the collective band group. If it’s suitable, it’d be great to have the chance to speak to each of you one-on-one as well as a group, to give a holistic view of your journeys as people and as musicians and what you’re trying to achieve with this album. So… yeah…” Lizzie trailed off nervously, clenching her hands at her sides.

“I love it. We’re happy you’re here, Lizzie. I really loved the Matt Corby piece Danielle sent us, and like you said, it was really important for us to have the perspective of an Australian journalist for this story and where we’re at right now.” Ashton’s calm voice broke the silence, as he nodded at Lizzie in agreeance. Luke and Calum nodded too, and Lizzie tried not to look towards Michael because no doubt he was still glaring at her.

“Great! Everyone’s on the same page. I have to dash off to a meeting, but Lizzie has my number if she needs it, otherwise all of you please behave and don’t scare her off, nor say anything that means I’ll have to destroy her tape recorder. Sound good? Good!” Danielle rattled off quickly, moving out the door and shutting it behind her.

The tension in the air was thick, and it was all seething from Michael’s direction towards Lizzie. She closed her eyes for a moment, before reaching into her bag and pulling out her phone, notebook and pen. She spotted a chair behind her, and turned back towards Luke and Ashton.

“Well, where do you want to start? A group sit down, some general thoughts on the journey so far and what the album experience has been like?” Lizzie offered, trying to make herself sound enthusiastic, but also in control and like she knew what she was doing.

Luke, Calum and Ashton all murmured in agreeance, and moved themselves over to sit by Michael on the couch, while Lizzie dragged the chair she’d spotted over to sit facing them.

“Right. All good if I audio record this?” She asked, hitting record on her voicenotes app after three heads nodded at her.

“So, the album. Where did it begin? Did anyone or anything influence or kick off the sonic direction or the start of the exploratory process?”

The conversation was flowing quite well, Lizzie though. Ashton dominated most of the responses to her questions, but Luke and Calum chipped in their perspectives throughout. Michael didn’t say a word, even when Calum poked him in the side, and instead of glaring at Lizzie he was now staring blankly at the wall over her shoulder. An improvement, sort of, but still not ideal from a journalist and interviewee perspective, let alone when the interviewee was someone who used to be Lizzie’s best friend.

Before she knew it, an hour had past, and Ashton stood, remembering a meeting they had scheduled with the label and their management team, and bringing the interview to a close.

As Lizzie was packing up her equipment, she cautiously brought up the topic of the one on one interviews.

“So, does anyone in particular have free time in the next few days, so I can start on the individual profiling part of the story?” Lizzie asked, her tone hopeful.

Michael’s response was to push straight past her and walk out of the studio, muttering to himself and slamming the door as he went. The loud noise made Lizzie flinch, and she realised her heart was racing and her hands were a little shaky.

“I’ve got time, LL Cool J. I’ll meet you at Joan’s on Third for lunch, say 1pm?” Lizzie smiled at the pld nickname Calum slipped into his quiet response to her question.

“Works for me, C Dizzle Swizzle. Thanks again for your time today, I really appreciate it. Not to sound like a broken record, but I’m really excited for this piece and the chance to tell your story.” Lizzie found herself grinning like an idiot as she met Calum’s warm gaze, and noted that Ashton and Luke were also smiling at her.

“We’re excited too, Lizzie. Even if… some of us might not quite be as enthusiastic as they should be. But, don’t worry. He’ll come round.” It was Luke that spoke this time, his striking blue eyes somehow staring straight into Lizzie’s soul as he looked at her.

“Here’s hoping.” Lizzie tried not to sound too dull in her response, but it was a challenge.

Because honestly, how the fuck was she going to do a profile on all four members of 5 Seconds of Summer, if one of them could barely stand being in the same room as her?

Time will tell, Lizzie thought to herself as she walked out of the door to Calum’s studio and into the warm California sunlight. Time will tell.

Taglist: @suchalonelysunflower @blackbutterfliescal @redrattlers @loveroflrh @spicycal @notinthesameguey @metalandboybands

More writing here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | if you’d like to be on my taglist go here

#5sos imagine #5sos fanfiction #my writing #ashton irwin imagine #luke hemmings imagine #calum hood imagine #michael clifford imagine #5sos blurb #ashton irwin fanfiction #luke hemmings fanfiction #calum hood fanfiction #michael clifford fanfiction #whew this is the longest thing i've written so far #hope you like it #it's fine if you don't tho #the posting anxiety is REAL omg

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hela-avenger · 5 years ago

Text

poison & wine- part 1

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1470

Summary: Prince Loki of Asgard is in need of a date to take back home. That’s where you come in with a task of your own to make the whole trip with an insufferable prince worth it. Too bad that things don’t always go as planned and you end up giving more than you can take. Fake-Dating AU.

A/N: Let me know if you’ll like to be tagged! This series will probably be a long one!

Hela-Avenger Masterlist

You must have looked like a fool. Smiling up at the sky with eyes closed basking in the warmth that the sun provided. You hear the clicking of the shade being moved and scowl as the sunshine on your face disappears. You pout and turn to Wanda who’s offering you a smile in return.

“If you keep showing your face it won’t be long till someone recognizes us,” Wanda warns her as she fixed her sunhat. “Then we’ll really get in trouble.”

“Yeah, like she said,” Natasha mutters as she hid behind a pair of sunglasses. “Anonymity is key.”

“It’s a nice day out,” you remind them. “And for once you’re not on a mission. If you guys didn’t want to leave the compound then why are we even here.”

“Two words,” Natasha states. “Bottomless mimosas.”

You laugh in response knowing she had a point.

Brunch was something the three of you enjoyed and something you insisted on doing in the city whenever you came to visit. Tony tried to change your mind saying he could provide everything in the compound and do it better but you persisted. You knew he was worried about the media and potential threats that could find you by leaving the safety of the compound but nothing has happened yet and nothing was going to happen.

“Alright, now that that’s settled, can we finally talk about the elephant in the room already?” Wanda asks turning to Nat in question.

“What elephant?” you ask. “What happened?”

Natasha just offers a quirk of a smile on her lips and sips her mimosa slowly.

“A certain god in the compound was trying to talk me into being his date for this Asgardian visit,” Natasha responds with a shrug.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” you comment. “And why would you say no to Thor? I thought you guys were friends.”

“We are,” Natasha answers. “But he wasn’t the one who asked.”

“Oh,” you whisper in realization. “It was Loki…”

“Yes,” Natasha chuckles before turning to Wanda. “I don’t know how this one knows though. It was all hush-hush.”

Wanda simply grins at the accusation.

“It’s because he asked me first,” Wanda explains. “But Steve overheard his request and he was quick to tell him that I was needed here so I told him to ask you instead.”

Natasha shakes her head at hearing this, “He wasn’t surprised when I said no. Our history isn’t the best.”

“He must be pretty desperate then,” you state.

“He is,” Natasha agrees. “I don’t know why though. He’s gone back home before without caring about bringing a companion but now he suddenly needs one. It doesn’t make much sense.”

“Wait this trip is to Asgard?” you ask interested now. “All expenses paid, free stay at the royal home in the realm of the Norse Gods...and you guys said no?”

“It’s not worth going with the most despised god in the world.”

You nod knowing she had a point but you couldn’t help but overlook that detail.

Asgard was a place you longed to visit. It held answers to the questions you’ve been holding on for so long in your life. This was your chance to liberate yourself from them. This may be your only chance.

“Earth to Y/N,” Wanda sings out. “Earth to…”

“Sorry guys,” you answer as you shake yourself out of your thoughts. “Got caught up thinking.”

“Thinking about what?”

“About Loki’s request,” you answer. “He can’t be that bad, right?”

“Have you even met him?” Natasha asks him. “Man reminds everyone he’s a God and that us mortals will never compare to all that he is. He also hasn’t apologized for New York and on top of all that, he’s just an overall ass to everybody.”

“Yeah… that sounds pretty bad,” you mutter. “I’ve only met the guy a handful of times whenever I come around and we’ve never been on a mission before so I guess I don’t have the same experience you guys do.”

“He destroyed New York,” Natasha reminded you.

“I wasn’t here for that,” you shrug earning a glare in response. “Don’t worry, I get it. I completely get it. Loki = Bad Guy.”

Natasha nods and changes the topic of conversation no longer wanting to give any more time or thought to the God of Lies. Unlike her, you weren’t unable to stop your mind from lingering on him. The equation still calculating in your mind but with a different result every time.

Loki = Asgard.

The return to the compound was as warm as the sun that had been shining on you all day. Your two closest friends besides the girls were hanging out in the living area waiting for your return.

It had been a long time since you’ve come by for a visit. You didn’t tend to stay long not allowing them to get to close to you. You didn’t enjoy attachment especially not in this line of work.

“Hello you two,” you greet as you made your way in. “Is good to be back.”

“How long you staying, kid?” Tony asks with a knowing grin. You rolled your eyes at the nickname but let go of arguing against it.

“Yet to be determined,” you answer.

“Well your room’s made up either way,” Tony states. “Stay as long as you like.”

“Cool,” you whisper as you take a seat on the couch. Tony was serving himself a drink while Steve set his book aside to focus on you.

“What have you been up to?” Steve asks as you make yourself comfortable.

“Just the usual, traveling.”

“Where to?”

“Backpacking through Europe,” you mutter. “Not much has changed since the last time I was there.”

“Where to next?”

“Probably a trip to Asia next or maybe Australia,” you answer trying to sound excited. “Has yet to be decided.”

“Getting bored already?” Tony jokes.

Honestly, you were but you couldn’t tell him that. He would try to convince you to stay and start a new chapter of your life with them but you were not ready for that. You loved them. You really did. But staying was not a trait you held and he knew that.

“No, not yet. In fact, I have made up my mind on my next adventure,” you assure him. “New cultures, new horizons, new… everything.”

“And where is that?” Steve asks. “I thought you’ve been everywhere.”

“I have which is why it’s time to expand those limiting horizons.”

Tony and Steve share a look wondering what you could possibly be talking about but you don’t offer much of an explanation. You simply squeeze Steve’s shoulder and take your leave knowing you had a certain god to speak to.

Tony had set the Asgardian Gods aside in their own building seeing as their travels to their homeland and back kept ruining the landscape he so nicely paid for. You take your time entering the living area knowing that sudden entrances tended to startle the gods into action. You had never been a part of such an occasion but Tony and Steve had enough to say about it.

“Anyone home?”

You can’t help but look around as you wait for a response. It didn’t look much different than the guest rooms you usually stay in when you decide to pop by but it was personalized. You took notice of the artwork and books that were not of the world you know. They were beautiful and you wish you could understand the inscriptions on them.

“Don’t touch that.”

You jump at the sudden voice and you can’t help but grow still in embarrassment. You hadn’t realized your right hand had been reaching to touch one of the many beautiful books on the shelf.

“Sorry,” you apologize turning around to face him. “Got curious.”

“Well, don’t.”

You can’t help but chuckle starting to realize that maybe Natasha had a point. The younger prince was certainly a bit prickly but not enough to scare you away.

“What are you doing here?” he asks as he scowled down at you. “No one invited you in.”

“I knocked,” you pointed out. “No one answered.”

“That’s because I was trying to avoid this,” Loki answers his scowl deepening. “Whatever this is…”

You ignore his abrasive behavior and decide to rip off the band-aid already. There was no point in pushing this off. The more you interact with him, the more you were starting to believe that this might actually be a bad idea.

“Look, I just… I heard you were looking for some kind of date to take to Asgard,” you state. “And I’m in. I’ll do it.”

Loki’s scowl fades away as he narrows his eyes at you questioningly. He seemed to be considering it before he opened his mouth to speak.

“Who the hell are you?”

Loki Tag: @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @thesilentbluesparrow @oddly-drawn-muse @josiehosiedaninja @hp-hogwartsexpress

All Works Tag: @not-zari-tak @jmb959 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @hellocookiecutter @steve-rogers-personal-hell @buckybarnesyard

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ibuki-says · 3 years ago

Text

Color Coded Symphony

Pairing: Ibuki Mioda x Sonia Nevermind

Rating: PG

Word Count: 1,653

Spoilers: None! Non-despair AU

Prompt: Soulmate AU - One cannot see color until they touch their soulmate

The cool autumn air was barely noticeable to the princess as she made her way across campus, diligently following two of her good friends. Her heart was pounding in such excitement that at times she feared it would leap its way right out of her chest. Sonia Nevermind was going to be attending her first Japanese rock concert!! Sure, she had been in attendance to live music before, but it was always the classical music of her homeland. This was so new and exciting! So different from what she was used to! Better yet, she was even going with friends that she already made...that were actually her own age! Chiaki, who had suggested the outing, and Mikan, who had overheard the conversation and expressed interest in the concert. Though it took quite a bit of convincing for the anxious nurse to believe it wouldn’t be a burden for her to attend the concert with the two other girls. Eventually, she did agree to accompany them, so when the time came, they met up and began their trek.

One of the things Sonia was most curious about was who they were going to see play. Ibuki Mioda, better known as the Ultimate Musician. Despite being her classmate, Sonia had never actually crossed paths with the other girl. She knew Ibuki was good friends with both Chiaki and Mikan, and she trusted the opinions of her dear friends, so she had no doubts that she was absolutely lovely as well.

“So what do we do at the Japanese rock concert?” Sonia eagerly questioned her friends, certainly not wanting to do or say the wrong thing, lest she offend the other concert goers, or, perish the thought, even Ibuki herself! Chiaki yawned and rubbed her eye before glancing at the princess.

“I haven’t been to a live concert before, so I’m not totally sure. I think we just kinda listen to the music. Maybe dance some?” She answered thoughtfully, though it was clear she was rather inexperienced in the whole “rock concert” thing as well.

“Ah- I-I know sometimes people get rough at concerts, so please be careful! I treat people that come in with all sorts of bumps or bruises afterwards, so it’s important to pay attention to your surroundings!” Mikan chimed in with her own advice, taking a deep breath after as if she had said the whole thing without breathing. Sonia looked between her two friends with a gentle smile, grateful for their input.

“Thank you two! I now know a little more of what to expect, and I am confident we will have a hella great time!” She exclaimed, pumping her fists with stars in her eyes. She really felt as though she was integrating herself incredibly well with her Japanese classmates, though of course there were cultural differences, she did her best. The three girls finally reached their destination, the music hall on campus but it certainly gave off a...different vibe than usual. The air practically sparked with a rebellious electricity that Sonia felt all the way to her bones. She could recognize many of her other classmates who had shown up to give support to Ibuki as well. She offered a wave to a few of those who caught her gaze before being drawn to the stage. She stared at the stage in awe when she heard Chiaki speak up beside her.

“It’s seven o’ clock. We made it just on time.” She muttered while just on time, a bass chord rang out through the music hall.

“IS EVERYONE READY TO ROCK!?” A loud voice echoed from the speakers while Sonia craned her neck to locate the person the voice belonged to. A beat later, the curtain fell away to reveal a girl with long black hair, with some parts haphazardly dyed different shades of grey...though she assumed they were supposed to be different colors. Sonia’s eyes sparkled once more, the princess was absolutely enchanted by the Ultimate Musician that immediately commanded the stage by launching into an upbeat rock song. Her heart pounded to the rhythm and she couldn’t help herself from moving her body as well. Keeping Mikan’s advice in mind, she swayed in time to the music and danced with her two friends to the exciting music that reverberated throughout the building. She felt every bass chord in her chest and the melody deep in her soul. The three of them danced the night away as the stage lights flashed brilliantly around them.

The concert was over much too quickly. Despite being practically covered with sweat and exhaustion, Sonia wasn’t ready for the fun night with her friends to be over. She cheered along with the rest of the crowds as Ibuki thanked them for coming and disappeared back behind the curtain.

“That...was...absolutely exhilarating!! I have never felt so alive!!” Sonia exclaimed, looking between her friends with the same gleam in her eyes that had never left. Chiaki nodded, the same tiredness Sonia felt was evident in her own expression.

“I’m glad you had fun. Before we go back, we do have one stop to make.” Chiaki’s smile turned slightly mischievous as she glanced at Mikan with a knowing look. Mikan let out a small “eep!” before nervously giggling and nodding. Sonia’s expression quickly turned to one of confusion as she regarded her two friends. Chiaki gestured for the two girls to follow her.

“Where are we going?” Sonia questioned, though still following Chiaki with little hesitation. Her heart began pounding once again as she realized Chiaki was leading them towards the backstage. Did this mean-? Were they going to be seeing Ibuki-?? Yes, she was their classmate and friend, but Sonia had just watched her perform! Was this not breaching some kind of etiquette? Evidently not as they arrived backstage. Her heart sped up more as she saw Ibuki, who noticed the three girls and brightly grinned at them.

“Ibuki hopes you all liked the show!! It was such a blast playing in the music hall again!!” Ibuki laughed, greeting Chiaki and Mikan with tight hugs. She stopped when she got to Sonia, glancing at her with a bit of a quizzical look before nodding in recognition. “Sonia, right? Ack! Sorry- Ultimate Princess Sonia!! That’s you?” She looked at her curiously, making Sonia nod.

“Yes, that’s me! Ah, I do not care for such formalities, though.” She answered with a soft grin. Ibuki immediately pepped up with an affirmative nod.

“Alright Sonia! Well, Ibuki’s super super glad you came to the show!” She exclaimed, proceeding to throw her arms around the princess to give her her own hug. She was caught off guard for just a moment before relenting and hugging her back. However, as she pulled away and opened her eyes, the world was suddenly full of color. The dressing room was painted a red color, the lights were different colors, she even noted the sections of Ibuki’s hair dyed pink and blue. Looking into Ibuki’s newly pink eyes, she could tell she was having the same realization. Sonia’s hand instinctively covered her mouth as she stared at Ibuki with mirrored bewilderment. The two girls went to speak at the same time, causing them both to fall into nervous giggles. They stood quietly processing this before Sonia managed to speak up again. “You...it looks like you are my soulmate!” After the confusion began to wear off, she was left with a positive giddiness. She clasped Ibuki’s hands in her own as she couldn’t take the goofy grin off of her face.

“Wow...just….I can’t believe it! I’m just-” Ibuki squeezed Sonia’s hands in return, sputtering out her own words of disbelief. Sonia suddenly remembered the two friends who had accompanied her and whirled to look at them, eyebrows furrowing.

“Did...did you two know about this??” She had to ask, though wondering just how Chiaki or Mikan would possibly know the two were soulmates before they themselves did. This was evident by the utter astonishment on their faces as well.

“I had no idea, I p-promise! But this is truly a wonderful turn of events!” Mikan cried as Chiaki nodded in agreement.

“Yup. Same as me. No clue.” Chiaki added, looking between the two of them. “But it does make sense. So...I think we’ll leave now. I’m getting tired anyway…” Chiaki muttered, yawning practically on cue, tugging on Mikan’s sleeve to non-subtly get her to leave as well. Mikan quickly got the hint as the two made their way out of the dressing room, leaving recently discovered soulmates Sonia and Ibuki alone together.

“This is super duper crazy like...what??” Ibuki’s disbelief was apparent as Sonia giggled as well.

“I know. I cannot believe I have been attending school with my soulmate and did not realize it this whole time.” Sonia mused with a soft smile. Her expression turned to one of contemplation as she looked back to Ibuki. “I do have a question... if you could not see color...how did you go about dying your hair?” She asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. Ibuki let out a loud laugh, seemingly been broken out of her daze from finding her soulmate.

“Oh! Well, I just asked my friends who already did find their soulmates to pick them out! Ibuki didn’t really care as long as it looked cool!” She answered cheerfully. Sonia nodded, it did make perfect sense to her. “Hmmm, anyway! Wanna go walk and talk for a bit? The night is still young, and I, uh, really wanna get to know you better now.” A light blush coated Ibuki’s cheeks as she asked this.

“Of course. I would like nothing more right now.” Sonia answered with a soft smile. Ibuki looked visibly relieved as she took Sonia’s hand once again, the two of them walking back out into the cool autumn night.

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starksinthenorth · 5 years ago

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Dany’s Wardrobe: Show vs. Books

This started as a comment on a reblog but then I decided to make it it’s own post.

As much as I love Dany’s wardrobe generally (unpopular opinion the belly button dress was ugly), its progression doesn’t make almost any sense.

In the books, fashion is a HUGE part of her plot line, from the first chapter where she wears Illyrio’s gift dress and the gold torc that thematically connect her to slavery (”even Khal Drogo’s slaves wear gold collars”). From there, she embraces her new peoples by sliding into their cultural skin: wearing Dothraki riding leathers and painted vests, putting on a Qartheen gown with the boob out, and eventually her “floppy ears” of a tokar. I’ve speculated before that Dany will embrace Westerosi fashion (or what little we know about it in the books) once she lands in the area, and again when she heads North. It makes the most sense based on her past progression, and tokars and sandsilk is going to essentially be useless in the cold terrain of the war for the dawn.

The show initially mirrors the books progression of adopting her new people’s clothing. She wears the light silks from Illyrio, the Dothraki clothes, and then the blue Qartheen dress that’s one of her most iconic. But then we don’t see that continue after season 2. In SOS, she wears various robes and her Dothraki clothes. When she gets to Meereen, she’s convinced to switch to a tokar to please her people. But in the show, her white dresses, beautiful as they may be, don’t reflect the people of Meereen. In fact, they make her stand out entirely.

Michelle Clapton did this on purpose, as she said in 2015:

“I wanted to give this rather untouchable [quality] to her. The idea behind the white and pale gray is the sense of removal, a removal from reality.”

But that’s not what her clothes in the books are doing. GRRM thinks these little details and symbolisms through, and he shows Dany embracing the people she’s among. IMO, this is in part because Dany doesn’t have a home and doesn’t yet know where she belongs. She remembers the house with the red door, but she doesn't really have a culture or homeland of her own. By adopting her new peoples’ cultures, she is trying to acclimate as a ruler but also trying to find the place she as an individual belongs.

At the same time, Dany doesn’t feel comfortable doing this all the time. She calls the tokar her “floppy ears” and recognizes thats it’s a performance and disguise she wears for other’s benefit. She seems to feel most at home among the Dothraki wardrobe, which she actively wears in Qarth as she leaves, rejecting a Qartheen gown:

If the Milk Men thought her such a savage, she would dress the part for them. When she went to the stables, she wore faded sandsilk pants and woven grass sandals. Her small breasts moved freely beneath a painted Dothraki vest, and a curved dagger hung from her medallion belt.

This is one main reason I’m excited for her to return to the Dothraki. Unlike her return to Dragonstone and Westeros, this will be a thematic homecoming, a return to the first place she felt independence and power and strength in her short life. But I digress.

The show instead chooses to have her reject the fashion of the areas she’s in. She doesn’t dress like a Westerosi on her return to her birthplace, instead continuing the clothing that she’s worn in her other countries. Which begs another question: where do these clothes come from? If she picked up a seamstress in Meereen or Qarth or Astapor, wouldn’t that woman probably sew things for Dany based on her own knowledge, using those local cultures?

It would be one thing if Dany came to Westeros reflecting ‘foreign’ styles from the other places she’s been, but show!Dany continues to reflect the styles that are wholly her own. If that was the purpose, to thematically show her as ‘breaking the wheel’ and eviscerating the Master’s clothes, that would be one thing. But Michelle Clapton has clearly shown that wasn’t the purpose of that design, but rather to set her apart from everyone around her.

When Dany goes North, she continues to be “apart,” even as she adopts the furs that are necessary for survival in the North. The red-lined fur outfit from her arrival that mirror her previous styles while adopting the warmth of the North is probably one of the most true to book!Dany outfits that we’ve seen since Qarth. But I still think that we’re going to see her continuing to do what she’s done since the beginning and embrace the clothing of people that she joins, and that rather than setting her apart, the clothes may end up feeling more like home and belonging for the first time in her life.

#asoiaf meta #got meta #anti D&D #michelle clapton #daenerys targaryen

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binsofchaos · 4 years ago

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Toni Morrison | Nobel Lecture December 7, 1993

We die. That may be the meaning of life. But we do language. That may be the measure of our lives.

“Once upon a time there was an old woman. Blind but wise.” Or was it an old man? A guru, perhaps. Or a griot soothing restless children. I have heard this story, or one exactly like it, in the lore of several cultures.

“Once upon a time there was an old woman. Blind. Wise.”

In the version I know the woman is the daughter of slaves, black, American, and lives alone in a small house outside of town. Her reputation for wisdom is without peer and without question. Among her people she is both the law and its transgression. The honor she is paid and the awe in which she is held reach beyond her neighborhood to places far away; to the city where the intelligence of rural prophets is the source of much amusement.

One day the woman is visited by some young people who seem to be bent on disproving her clairvoyance and showing her up for the fraud they believe she is. Their plan is simple: they enter her house and ask the one question the answer to which rides solely on her difference from them, a difference they regard as a profound disability: her blindness. They stand before her, and one of them says, “Old woman, I hold in my hand a bird. Tell me whether it is living or dead.”

She does not answer, and the question is repeated. “Is the bird I am holding living or dead?”

Still she doesn’t answer. She is blind and cannot see her visitors, let alone what is in their hands. She does not know their color, gender or homeland. She only knows their motive.

The old woman’s silence is so long, the young people have trouble holding their laughter.

Finally she speaks and her voice is soft but stern. “I don’t know”, she says. “I don’t know whether the bird you are holding is dead or alive, but what I do know is that it is in your hands. It is in your hands.”

Her answer can be taken to mean: if it is dead, you have either found it that way or you have killed it. If it is alive, you can still kill it. Whether it is to stay alive, it is your decision. Whatever the case, it is your responsibility.

For parading their power and her helplessness, the young visitors are reprimanded, told they are responsible not only for the act of mockery but also for the small bundle of life sacrificed to achieve its aims. The blind woman shifts attention away from assertions of power to the instrument through which that power is exercised.

Speculation on what (other than its own frail body) that bird-in-the-hand might signify has always been attractive to me, but especially so now thinking, as I have been, about the work I do that has brought me to this company. So I choose to read the bird as language and the woman as a practiced writer. She is worried about how the language she dreams in, given to her at birth, is handled, put into service, even withheld from her for certain nefarious purposes. Being a writer she thinks of language partly as a system, partly as a living thing over which one has control, but mostly as agency – as an act with consequences. So the question the children put to her: “Is it living or dead?” is not unreal because she thinks of language as susceptible to death, erasure; certainly imperiled and salvageable only by an effort of the will. She believes that if the bird in the hands of her visitors is dead the custodians are responsible for the corpse. For her a dead language is not only one no longer spoken or written, it is unyielding language content to admire its own paralysis. Like statist language, censored and censoring. Ruthless in its policing duties, it has no desire or purpose other than maintaining the free range of its own narcotic narcissism, its own exclusivity and dominance. However moribund, it is not without effect for it actively thwarts the intellect, stalls conscience, suppresses human potential. Unreceptive to interrogation, it cannot form or tolerate new ideas, shape other thoughts, tell another story, fill baffling silences. Official language smitheryed to sanction ignorance and preserve privilege is a suit of armor polished to shocking glitter, a husk from which the knight departed long ago. Yet there it is: dumb, predatory, sentimental. Exciting reverence in schoolchildren, providing shelter for despots, summoning false memories of stability, harmony among the public.

She is convinced that when language dies, out of carelessness, disuse, indifference and absence of esteem, or killed by fiat, not only she herself, but all users and makers are accountable for its demise. In her country children have bitten their tongues off and use bullets instead to iterate the voice of speechlessness, of disabled and disabling language, of language adults have abandoned altogether as a device for grappling with meaning, providing guidance, or expressing love. But she knows tongue-suicide is not only the choice of children. It is common among the infantile heads of state and power merchants whose evacuated language leaves them with no access to what is left of their human instincts for they speak only to those who obey, or in order to force obedience.

The systematic looting of language can be recognized by the tendency of its users to forgo its nuanced, complex, mid-wifery properties for menace and subjugation. Oppressive language does more than represent violence; it is violence; does more than represent the limits of knowledge; it limits knowledge. Whether it is obscuring state language or the faux-language of mindless media; whether it is the proud but calcified language of the academy or the commodity driven language of science; whether it is the malign language of law-without-ethics, or language designed for the estrangement of minorities, hiding its racist plunder in its literary cheek – it must be rejected, altered and exposed. It is the language that drinks blood, laps vulnerabilities, tucks its fascist boots under crinolines of respectability and patriotism as it moves relentlessly toward the bottom line and the bottomed-out mind. Sexist language, racist language, theistic language – all are typical of the policing languages of mastery, and cannot, do not permit new knowledge or encourage the mutual exchange of ideas.

The old woman is keenly aware that no intellectual mercenary, nor insatiable dictator, no paid-for politician or demagogue; no counterfeit journalist would be persuaded by her thoughts. There is and will be rousing language to keep citizens armed and arming; slaughtered and slaughtering in the malls, courthouses, post offices, playgrounds, bedrooms and boulevards; stirring, memorializing language to mask the pity and waste of needless death. There will be more diplomatic language to countenance rape, torture, assassination. There is and will be more seductive, mutant language designed to throttle women, to pack their throats like paté-producing geese with their own unsayable, transgressive words; there will be more of the language of surveillance disguised as research; of politics and history calculated to render the suffering of millions mute; language glamorized to thrill the dissatisfied and bereft into assaulting their neighbors; arrogant pseudo-empirical language crafted to lock creative people into cages of inferiority and hopelessness.

Underneath the eloquence, the glamor, the scholarly associations, however stirring or seductive, the heart of such language is languishing, or perhaps not beating at all – if the bird is already dead.

She has thought about what could have been the intellectual history of any discipline if it had not insisted upon, or been forced into, the waste of time and life that rationalizations for and representations of dominance required – lethal discourses of exclusion blocking access to cognition for both the excluder and the excluded.

The conventional wisdom of the Tower of Babel story is that the collapse was a misfortune. That it was the distraction, or the weight of many languages that precipitated the tower’s failed architecture. That one monolithic language would have expedited the building and heaven would have been reached. Whose heaven, she wonders? And what kind? Perhaps the achievement of Paradise was premature, a little hasty if no one could take the time to understand other languages, other views, other narratives period. Had they, the heaven they imagined might have been found at their feet. Complicated, demanding, yes, but a view of heaven as life; not heaven as post-life.

She would not want to leave her young visitors with the impression that language should be forced to stay alive merely to be. The vitality of language lies in its ability to limn the actual, imagined and possible lives of its speakers, readers, writers. Although its poise is sometimes in displacing experience it is not a substitute for it. It arcs toward the place where meaning may lie. When a President of the United States thought about the graveyard his country had become, and said, “The world will little note nor long remember what we say here. But it will never forget what they did here,” his simple words are exhilarating in their life-sustaining properties because they refused to encapsulate the reality of 600, 000 dead men in a cataclysmic race war. Refusing to monumentalize, disdaining the “final word”, the precise “summing up”, acknowledging their “poor power to add or detract”, his words signal deference to the uncapturability of the life it mourns. It is the deference that moves her, that recognition that language can never live up to life once and for all. Nor should it. Language can never “pin down” slavery, genocide, war. Nor should it yearn for the arrogance to be able to do so. Its force, its felicity is in its reach toward the ineffable.

Be it grand or slender, burrowing, blasting, or refusing to sanctify; whether it laughs out loud or is a cry without an alphabet, the choice word, the chosen silence, unmolested language surges toward knowledge, not its destruction. But who does not know of literature banned because it is interrogative; discredited because it is critical; erased because alternate? And how many are outraged by the thought of a self-ravaged tongue?

Word-work is sublime, she thinks, because it is generative; it makes meaning that secures our difference, our human difference – the way in which we are like no other life.

We die. That may be the meaning of life. But we do language. That may be the measure of our lives.

“Once upon a time, …” visitors ask an old woman a question. Who are they, these children? What did they make of that encounter? What did they hear in those final words: “The bird is in your hands”? A sentence that gestures towards possibility or one that drops a latch? Perhaps what the children heard was “It’s not my problem. I am old, female, black, blind. What wisdom I have now is in knowing I cannot help you. The future of language is yours.”

They stand there. Suppose nothing was in their hands? Suppose the visit was only a ruse, a trick to get to be spoken to, taken seriously as they have not been before? A chance to interrupt, to violate the adult world, its miasma of discourse about them, for them, but never to them? Urgent questions are at stake, including the one they have asked: “Is the bird we hold living or dead?” Perhaps the question meant: “Could someone tell us what is life? What is death?” No trick at all; no silliness. A straightforward question worthy of the attention of a wise one. An old one. And if the old and wise who have lived life and faced death cannot describe either, who can?

But she does not; she keeps her secret; her good opinion of herself; her gnomic pronouncements; her art without commitment. She keeps her distance, enforces it and retreats into the singularity of isolation, in sophisticated, privileged space.

Nothing, no word follows her declaration of transfer. That silence is deep, deeper than the meaning available in the words she has spoken. It shivers, this silence, and the children, annoyed, fill it with language invented on the spot.

“Is there no speech,” they ask her, “no words you can give us that helps us break through your dossier of failures? Through the education you have just given us that is no education at all because we are paying close attention to what you have done as well as to what you have said? To the barrier you have erected between generosity and wisdom?

“We have no bird in our hands, living or dead. We have only you and our important question. Is the nothing in our hands something you could not bear to contemplate, to even guess? Don’t you remember being young when language was magic without meaning? When what you could say, could not mean? When the invisible was what imagination strove to see? When questions and demands for answers burned so brightly you trembled with fury at not knowing?

“Do we have to begin consciousness with a battle heroines and heroes like you have already fought and lost leaving us with nothing in our hands except what you have imagined is there? Your answer is artful, but its artfulness embarrasses us and ought to embarrass you. Your answer is indecent in its self-congratulation. A made-for-television script that makes no sense if there is nothing in our hands.

“Why didn’t you reach out, touch us with your soft fingers, delay the sound bite, the lesson, until you knew who we were? Did you so despise our trick, our modus operandi you could not see that we were baffled about how to get your attention? We are young. Unripe. We have heard all our short lives that we have to be responsible. What could that possibly mean in the catastrophe this world has become; where, as a poet said, “nothing needs to be exposed since it is already barefaced.” Our inheritance is an affront. You want us to have your old, blank eyes and see only cruelty and mediocrity. Do you think we are stupid enough to perjure ourselves again and again with the fiction of nationhood? How dare you talk to us of duty when we stand waist deep in the toxin of your past?

“You trivialize us and trivialize the bird that is not in our hands. Is there no context for our lives? No song, no literature, no poem full of vitamins, no history connected to experience that you can pass along to help us start strong? You are an adult. The old one, the wise one. Stop thinking about saving your face. Think of our lives and tell us your particularized world. Make up a story. Narrative is radical, creating us at the very moment it is being created. We will not blame you if your reach exceeds your grasp; if love so ignites your words they go down in flames and nothing is left but their scald. Or if, with the reticence of a surgeon’s hands, your words suture only the places where blood might flow. We know you can never do it properly – once and for all. Passion is never enough; neither is skill. But try. For our sake and yours forget your name in the street; tell us what the world has been to you in the dark places and in the light. Don’t tell us what to believe, what to fear. Show us belief s wide skirt and the stitch that unravels fear’s caul. You, old woman, blessed with blindness, can speak the language that tells us what only language can: how to see without pictures. Language alone protects us from the scariness of things with no names. Language alone is meditation.

“Tell us what it is to be a woman so that we may know what it is to be a man. What moves at the margin. What it is to have no home in this place. To be set adrift from the one you knew. What it is to live at the edge of towns that cannot bear your company.

“Tell us about ships turned away from shorelines at Easter, placenta in a field. Tell us about a wagonload of slaves, how they sang so softly their breath was indistinguishable from the falling snow. How they knew from the hunch of the nearest shoulder that the next stop would be their last. How, with hands prayered in their sex, they thought of heat, then sun. Lifting their faces as though it was there for the taking. Turning as though there for the taking. They stop at an inn. The driver and his mate go in with the lamp leaving them humming in the dark. The horse’s void steams into the snow beneath its hooves and its hiss and melt are the envy of the freezing slaves.

“The inn door opens: a girl and a boy step away from its light. They climb into the wagon bed. The boy will have a gun in three years, but now he carries a lamp and a jug of warm cider. They pass it from mouth to mouth. The girl offers bread, pieces of meat and something more: a glance into the eyes of the one she serves. One helping for each man, two for each woman. And a look. They look back. The next stop will be their last. But not this one. This one is warmed.”

It’s quiet again when the children finish speaking, until the woman breaks into the silence.

“Finally”, she says, “I trust you now. I trust you with the bird that is not in your hands because you have truly caught it. Look. How lovely it is, this thing we have done – together.”

https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2021/books/best-toni-morrison-books.html

#toni morrison #nobel lecture #1993 #nobel prize #We die. That may be the meaning of life. But we do language. That may be the measure of our lives.#meaning of life #language

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four-loose-screws · 4 years ago

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FE Expo II - FE16 Stage Drama Translation

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

If you are interested in donating to support my work, please check out my Ko-fi here. Thank you!

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Fire Emblem Expo II - Stage Drama

Fire Emblem: Three Houses

“A Lively Arts Festival Meeting”

Cast: Claude, Dorothea, Felix, Ignatz

BGM: ‘Everyday Life at Garreg Mach Monastery’

Claude: Umm, first, I’d like to thank you all for gathering here today.

Dorothea: We don’t need the introduction, so please skip to the point.

Felix: Could you hurry up and get this over with? And I don’t need these tea sweets.

Ignatz: Hold on, everyone! Let’s listen to what Claude has to say.

Claude: ...I, um, tried to start this groundbreaking meeting that overcomes the boundaries between our classes with so much care that it would inspire all of you, but now it seems like my efforts were lost on every single one of you...

Dorothea: I heard about our task from Eldie. There will be an opening event before the White Heron Cup, and us four will organize it.

Claude: ...Wait, you heard about it?

Felix: Sylvain harassed me and forced me into representing the Blue Lions. Said he was going back into town. Argh, why am I stuck doing something like this…

Ignatz: So Sylvain was the first choice? I agree that he certainly would have been better.

Claude: Those chosen were gathered because they are the most artistic of Garreg Mach’s students. What makes every event stand out is, of course, the arts. Dorothea is the Mystical Songstress, Ignatz’s hobby is painting, and… Sylvain seems like the type to appreciate the arts.

Felix: Then I’d be of no use. And you don’t need me here to watch, either. Let me know what my responsibility is after you’ve decided on it.

Felix tries to leave.

Claude: Hey, wait a second! Um, think about it, you’re, uh, really good at repairing weapons and stuff, right? That, in a way, requires something of a sense of aesthetics, doesn’t it?

Ignatz: Though you only seem to do it to improve how well they can cut…

Dorothea: Don’t say anything more than you have to!

Felix returns.

Felix: ...Hmph. ...Continue. And be quick about it.

Claude: Then allow me to start. In short, this is meant to get everyone excited for the White Heron Cup, but we can’t take it lightly just because it’s an opening act. It’s like the preparations before enjoying a party. Think of it as an important duty that will get everyone excited for the big event.

Felix: The White Heron Cup, huh…? Why that…?

Dorothea: Awww, Felix! It’s too bad you weren’t chosen to be a dancer, isn’t it?

Felix: Ch… Who would pick me to be a dancer? I was just thinking about how relieved I am that I wasn’t chosen.

Ignatz: Hey now, don’t change the subject. That’s not what we’re here to talk about.

Claude: First, shall we try sharing the ideas we each think might be good, one by one? Dorothea, you’re first.

Dorothea: Of course, I think an opera would be best. A burning, passionate love story is sure to mesmerize our audience.

Claude: That’s not a bad idea, but doesn’t it take away from the dancing a little bit? What do you think, Ignatz?

Ignatz: How about we host an art gallery of works from the students talented in art? That would invigorate everyone, and it wouldn’t be a festival without any divine ornaments!

Felix: If there’s a decorative sword… then that’s not a half bad idea.

Ignatz: You think it’s a good idea too, Felix!? Then let’s make something together!

Claude: What are you thinking of, Felix?

Felix: How about a duel to get everyone’s blood pumping? It’ll double as training.

Dorothea: I knew you’d say that!

Claude: Ha ha ha…

Ignatz: So how about you, Claude?

Claude: A duel would injure some students, and then they wouldn’t be able to enjoy the festival we all worked so hard to put together… I know, how about we have a long distance archery tournament?

Felix: You… just want to showcase your archery skills, don’t you?

Claude: Figured it out, huh? Then how about we gather up some food and drinks suitable for the occasion, and make some noise?

Dorothea: You just want to have a feast!

Claude: Figured that out too, huh? Hmm, we can’t seem to make a decision, huh?

Dorothea: Perhaps we should try thinking up what ideas everyone else would propose.

Claude: For example?

Dorothea: Hubie would suggest a tactics seminar. Ferdie would want a horseback riding exhibition. And if Ingrid were here, she’d surely… I know! She’d suggest to open a bunch of different food stalls, or something like that.

Ignatz: Lorenz would likely agree with my art gallery idea. And Hilda seems to like accessories, so I think she’d be on my side, too.

Felix: You’re supposed to be suggesting people who would have different ideas than you.

Ignatz: Y-You’re right. Raphael and Lysithea would agree with the food stall idea Dorothea mentioned. Lysithea really likes sweets.

Felix: Hmph… sweets, huh? ...I wouldn’t vote for that, but Ashe might get excited about it. And accessory related stuff sounds like Annette’s thing…

Ignatz: Felix, no matter what anyone else says, you really pay attention to your classmates!

Felix: Ch…

Dorothea: Petra knows a lot about Briggid’s unique culture, so maybe she would collect many rare items from her homeland, then host an exhibition of them.

Ignatz: And Leonie seems to collect used, worn-out things, so she might have something we could put in an exhibition, too. Each of us would gather up things we want to display, and maybe we’d even critique them.

Claude: Hmm, Marianne would suggest an exhibition as well, but she seems to like animals more.

Dorothea: Wow, we’ve come up with a lot of different ideas, huh?

Claude: We certainly have! But now we don’t have a way to choose which one to go with… hm? Hey, I’ve got an idea! We have the perfect person to ask for an opinion, don’t we!

Ignatz: Yeah, you’re right! We were so slow to realize it!

Dorothea: We really were! They’re almost always quiet, but we’ve always had someone right next to us who leads us to the best decision at times like these. Tee hee.

Claude: Ha ha, we certainly have. The person who usually fishes all day, eats too much at lunch, and is the most reliable out of everyone, was right here all along. Alright then, let’s try asking them. What do you think about that?

All Four: Professor!