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vicea · 3 years ago

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dream merch discord recap (june 12, 2021) - disclaimer: i may have missed some things or mistakenly heard other things, apologies in advanced for that!

he has not played the new minecraft update

dream “knows” the date george is coming to florida but he’s not saying it :p

dream doesn’t have anyone muted on twitter

dream guesses his favorite disney princess is belle

sapnap has seen dream’s feet before

he’s not actually connor’s dad in the dsmp lore

dreamnap do not have nicknames for each other D:

dream likes olives but especially black olives

his mother makes homemade pickles

he doesn’t have a phone case

he has dropped his phone from his ear onto concrete in the parking lot before and the screen didn’t crack

dream has six fingers /j

he pours cereal first not milk when making cereal

dream calls sapnap nick most of the time :D

what’s your dream car? “idk the one that gets me to point A to point B consistently”

he finally fixed his sleep schedule, woke up at 8 am today

mrbeast owes dream a tesla because he never sent dream the audio file

dream is a very analytical person - he thinks with numbers/data

creativity is one his strengths that he is the most proud of

3 to 4 years ago, dream used to say george looks like shawn mendes a lot, now he doesn’t resemble him as much

patches is currently sleeping <3

swimming is very relaxing to dream, he swam the other day!

many houses in florida have pools than other places, even the cheapest houses in orlando have pools

dream has merchendise defects (misprints on merch) + milestone merch and he wants to give them away to those who live in orlando (probably to anyone but the event will be held in orlando) though he doesn’t want it to be a covid super-spreader thing so once you pick up your item you gotta dip. just all an idea though

he has been donating them to charity too though :)

dream has likely read Heroes of Olympus before a long time ago

he says that he’ll do a give away of his childhood books with his signature on it

he was obsessed with the series (Percy Jackson)

he really liked the Alex Rider series

has all of Maximum Ride books, 39 clues books

has read the legend series, the twilight series, and the maze runner

has all/read of the harry potter books, divergent, eragon

he would read all the time, to the point he would read more than one book a day (a book worm he says)

dream had a goal to read 200 books in a year and he wind up reading about 150

he doesn’t want to call it a library but- growing up he had something like that that had 600 or 700 or more books in it (privileged he admits it)

he has not read a book since he started youtube (about 2 years)

dream has a folder called Book that has his own writing in it

word count: 76000 words for one of his stories

another one he wrote 5 chapters of

he sounds very excited/embarrassed talking about the stories he wrote he’s so endearing

the very first paragraph of one of his stories (he was young when he wrote this) “What exactly is darkness? is it the lack of light? is it a pit of nothingness? ... your mind is full of darkness...” then he couldn’t continue.

the story is about a kid who wakes up in a cell and has no idea where he is with other people who are in the same situation

dream has a world building document

he has a sequel to the first book he has ever written

he found a query letter that he wrote because he wanted to get his book published- he finds it very funny

he’s calling himself a nerd but idk it’s kind of endearing

“as you can tell i’ve always been incredibly cool and not a nerd at all! ever.”

he cringes at his own old videos

dream took a lot of inspiration from witches and wizards by james patterson for writing

the story is written in a way where the main character is actually writing the story so you’re getting input from the main character during it. there’s a lot of sarcasm in it and it’s making dream laugh

very first person narrator

he feels like it’d be very cool if he were to publish his works he wrote when he was 16 on amazon or something but he probably never would because he’d have to read through all of it and it’s just embarrassing for him

dream used to video call sapnap fairly frequently- even before youtube

he strictly remembers, a very long time (at least 7 to 9 years) ago he was at his old childhood house he video called sapnap. he was wearing a (technically) suit and he remembers specifically that he was giving sap a tour...

“snazzy in a suit”

he had no reason to put on the suit (wow time is a flat circle huh)

drista is pretty close to sapnap’s height, she’s like 5′7″ but sap is still taller than her

dream filmed the whole thing when he and sapnap met but... it’s... gone because when he was clipping that one clip for twitter... it edited the whole video

he’s sure when they meet up with george they will film that too :D

DREAM IS PRETTY SURE THAT HE AND GEORGE WILL MEET THIS YEAR-- HE SAYS A 95% CERTAINTITY the five percent is like either restrictions or visa issues

dream does not play any instruments but he had a guitar hanging on his wall when he was younger...

dream is convinced they’re the same height but also sapnap is probably taller??

they had george compare his height to a door frame and dreamnap were googling for any doorframes to find any possible chance that george is taller than 5′8″ ... nothing came up

there’s a chance they’re both lying about being 5′8″

sap and george will literally just show up in stilts to prove they’re taller than each other /j

dream without shoes is between 6′2″ and 6′3″ with shoes he’s 6′3.5″

dream is talking about awesamdude’s fake height arc again LOL

dreamnap are very private people so they don’t bother each other but george doesn’t care and would just barge into their rooms and start bothering them- they were all joking about that over a voice call

he will visit europe

he thinks that greece would be a cool place to visit because sapnap’s family is from there :) so it’ll be like a nice “treat” to go back with sap :D

dream isn’t entirely sure that the dream team meet up will happen this year but he’s working out the details because he wants to make sure it’s safe

he’s talking to youtube about his face reveal

it’s up to george if he wants to eat healthy when they finally move in

dream just has a lot of meat and vegetables in his house

spinach with chicken is good

not much fruit (only apples and tomatoes)

“DRISTA IS 5″ is trending on twitter LOL (her height got cut off)

dream doesn’t want people flying to different places because he doesn’t want to encourage travel so he wants to do all of the meet ups with a two day heads up at most

he thinks that it’s awesome that ranboo and tubbo are meeting soon !! :D

it’s very cool to dream to see how far everyone’s has come since the beginning of the dsmp. everyone has done so much

dream finalized his youtube plan a couple weeks before he uploaded his video and he was talking to drista about how he was gonna be a big youtuber in a parking lot :”)

she was the first person he really ever talked to about it

dream would love to teach george how to drive it’d be really funny :D (a very good video or a livestream idea)

dream knows how to ride a bike, he used to have to bike to school

he can’t explain dnf.gay he has no clue he is not responsible. sapnap was the one who found it LOL. he is adamantly exclaiming that it was not him

dream doesn’t worry about views/likes/dislikes a lot- mainly views but that’s for the new uploads

he hasn’t uploaded in like a month and a half (*cries*)

he wants to stream at some point but he doesn’t know when

he wants to play geoguessr but not now... he doesn’t want to alt stream rn- maybe tomorrow!

he is insisting that the splash text on his minecraft home screen is by callahan

he asked callahan to send him bunch of text files that are dream team related so that the splash can rotate through it but callahan thought it was funny (it is) to put only dreamnotfound <3 so it doesn’t ever change at all and dream doesn’t even know how to change and he has asked callahan to change it but he said no (even though dream pays him LMAO)

the video referenced in the padilla’s video is still in the works, it might be handed over to sapnap though !

he has no idea if he will be in MCC pride yet

padilla got dream’s input for the video, dream found him to be a very nice guy ! :) it’s the first interview that dream did that wasn’t by a person with a negative opinion of dream

dream felt relaxed doing the interview with padilla

?????? he’s blaming callahan for his “dnfisreal” nickname in bedwars

he’s blaming callahan for a lot of dnf-related stuff

callahan runs the dream fanart account thus the liking of dnf content

he’s so insistent that it was callahan

dream admits that he was lying about the twitter and other stuff but for sure callahan did code the splash text in LOL

dream liking that tweet “the chances of george doing a hot tub stream is the same of dnf dating” was “funny” he wasnt trying to do any commentary...

the inside joke of “oh it’s all just a joke to you” originates from george and sapnap actually always fighting (like them yelling and shouting at each other) and george said something really mean and sapnap was hurt then geroge said “it was just a joke” and sapnap replied with that line and ever since then it’s been a meme LOL

he says that everyone does the hand-on-the-passenger-seat-while-reversing thing

dream is offline raiding with his chat with 6k people

dream appreciates us and will talk to us soon!

#dreamwastaken #dreamblr #long post #really long post xd #summary #not really a summary... literally just everything he said #merch discord

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todomitoukei · 4 years ago

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Japanese vs. English Dabi A 293 Comparison

Chapter 293 gave us another great speech by Dabi, filled with all kinds of information. Similar to my post for the previous chapter, the official translation for chapter 293 has, unfortunately, once again made some changes in regards to Dabi’s speech due to its bias that I would like to share and explain here to give a better understanding of Dabi’s actual character rather than just leaving it at his American version.

Because Dabi said so much in this chapter and we will be comparing the panels from the Japanese version and the official English translation and taking apart the Japanese phrases, the rest of the post is under the cut (this post may or may not be just below 6k words)

The interaction begins with a short exchange between Dabi and Shouto as the former is hugging his younger brother mid-air while the others are still on the ground trying to take down Machia. In the official translation, Dabi begins by pointing this situation out to Shouto.

The two panels aren’t too different from the Japanese version, but this is another case of lost nuance. So here’s the original for comparison:

The speech bubbles read:

「向こうは楽しそうだなァ」

「可哀想になァ」

「おまえはこんなに辛いのに」

Breaking down the first line we get

「向こう ; mukou」-> other side; other party

「は ; wa 」-> topic marker particle

「楽しそう ; tanoshisou 」-> looks fun

「だ ; da 」-> casual form of です (desu); be; is

「なァ ; naa 」-> sentence ending particle; expresses emotion/sentiment

= “The others seem to have fun, huh?”

Then we have the second line:

「可哀想に ; kawaisou ni 」-> pitiable; poor (interjection)

「なァ ; naa 」-> sentence ending particle; expresses emotion/sentiment

= “Poor thing, huh?”

And the third line:

「おまえ ; omae 」-> you

「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle

「こんなに ; konnani 」-> so; like this

「辛い ; tsurai 」-> bitter; painful; heart-breaking

「のに ; noni」-> even though

= “Even though it’s so painful for you.”

Someone made a post a few days ago where they made an interesting note about this part, specifically that last line, that I think is worth mentioning here: this situation is Dabi comparing his own past to Shouto’s present. Touya was in pain for so long until he burned to death because no one helped him (and by that I mean an adult that could’ve actually helped him and not his younger siblings). Similarly, Shouto has been in pain for so long and now that it’s especially obvious to those around him as he is in the process of being burned, no one is helping him and instead, they continue fighting each other. And while Dabi doesn’t know the extent of this, it’s true that Shouto has been vocal about his family’s circumstances and yet no one’s ever done anything about it. So while Dabi at this moment is primarily referring to the fact that in this very instant no one is immediately by Shouto’s side to save him, it’s also unintentionally pointing out how no one in charge ever looked at the teenager with a huge scar on his face who openly hates his father so much and thought to maybe at least ask him about it.

You can argue that that is interpreting too much because “Dabi doesn’t care about him” - but I think that Dabi not knowing enough about Shouto and seeing him as nothing but “Endeavor’s doll” and Dabi recognizing that Shouto is in a similarly bad situation as Dabi are two statements that can coexist, especially since he is right in saying that right there no one is helping Shouto. And, again, based on his broadcast and how much his speech has changed to be more polite and humble in contrast to his usual direct, rough ways, it’s important to recognize that Dabi has an understanding of people (and how to get to them).

So while his mind might be too focused on his hatred for Endeavor, there might also still be that ability to acknowledge that those around him are hurting, too. This is an important problem within the fandom (and outside of it) as far as vocabulary goes - a lot of people throw around the word empathy and how awful it is when someone lacks it. But empathy is the ability to feel someone else’s emotions. And you don’t need to actually feel what they are feeling in order to recognize their emotions, which is far more important. This understanding of someone else’s emotions is sympathy. Compassion, on the other hand, is not just understanding someone’s emotions, but also trying to alleviate someone’s negative emotions. So even if Dabi doesn’t care about people, he can still recognize when someone is in pain.

After this, we get Shouto’s only line of that chapter, and as much as I wished he was given more lines, this one’s so good, it’s okay there isn’t more:

Above you can see the English translation having Shouto say “But... you’re... burning up... too!”

For comparison, here is this same part in Japanese:

Starting with Shouto’s line, we got「てめェ。。。こそ。。。体が。。。焦げて。。。！」

This line already broke itself apart! How nice.

「てめェ ; temee 」-> you

「こそ ; koso 」-> for sure; emphasizes preceding word

「体 ; karada 」-> body

「が ; ga 」-> subject marker particle

「焦げて ; kogete 」-> to burn; to get burned (the dictionary form of this is 「焦げる」(kongeru), the te-form is used here to leave the sentence trailing)

= “YOUR body... for sure… will… get burned…!”

The reason I’m saying this line is so important is the emphasis on the “you” part through the usage of koso. The general content of the sentence already tells us this, but that emphasizing nuance doesn’t exist in English (unless you bold, italicize, and underline it). The line is important because we’re shown someone who is in the process of being burned alive, and yet his worry is on the person trying to kill him rather than anything else. He isn’t trying to argue with him, isn’t trying to protect himself - he’s simply saying: this is hurting you. It’s interesting because in the eyes of those around him, Shouto is the one hurting the most. But to him, it’s Touya who is hurting the most. To him, this isn’t the hero-to-be Shouto being fought by the villain Dabi. This is big bro Touya hurting himself for the sake of getting at their awful dad. And little bro Shouto is only thinking about his big bro.

Now for Dabi’s response, we get the line that particularly stuck out to me as far as the English translation goes: “Seriously, it’s great that you were raised with love.” What? If you read the fan translation, you might remember this line as “You’ve grown up to be so considerate - I’m happy for you little bro” - so which one is more correct? If you guessed the fan translation then, unfortunately, you are correct!

The Japanese line reads 「優しく育って嬉しいよ」

「優しく ; yasashiku 」-> ; tender; gentle; kind (adverbial form of「優しい」(yasashii))

「育って ; sodatte 」-> to be raised; to grow up; (te-form of「育つ」to indicate reason & means (this part results in the second part of the sentence))

「嬉しい ; ureshii 」-> happy; glad

「よ ; yo 」-> sentence ending particle; shows emphasis

= “I am glad because you grew up kindly”

First of all, an adverb is nothing other than an adjective that is directly affecting/describing the verb it precedes. So to understand that in reference to this sentence, you can ask the question “how was he raised?” - with the response being “kindly.” If you wanted to say “raised with kindness” on the other hand, you would have to turn the adjective into a noun. That part of the phrase would then be 「優しさで育って」As you can see, that’s not what it says in the original version.

More importantly, the word “love” is not part of this, so I don’t know why that word is used here. It really gives off a wrong understanding of what is actually being said here. The official translation makes it sound like Dabi is saying “I’m glad you were raised with love, while I wasn’t” sort of like a complaint?

We still don’t know exactly what Touya’s upbringing was like, but we do know that things gradually got worse over time, so with the assumption that he was raised in a more positive (not good, just better in comparison) environment than Shouto, the English statement then doesn’t make sense since he was “loved” too for a long time.

Besides, he is saying that in direct response to Shouto displaying his worry for Dabi, which says nothing about how he was raised but everything about what kind of person he is (a kind one).

Furthermore, it leaves out the part where Dabi says he’s happy about this. Instead, he just says “it’s great” - which is more something used when you can acknowledge a situation being good for someone else, even though you don’t have any particular feeling about it. It’s very objective, yet in the original, he is stating his emotions with this.

The official translation, in my opinion, just ends up turning the two against each other (more specifically turning Dabi against Shouto), when in reality, Dabi is happy that Shouto shows compassion for him here, despite Dabi currently trying to kill him. In other words, he is surprised by Shouto’s concern for him and happy to be proven wrong about him.

Next, we got「俺は大丈夫今とても幸せだから。」

「俺 ; ore 」-> I

「は ; wa 」-> topic marker particle

「大丈夫 ; daijoubu 」-> alright

「今 ; ima 」-> now

「とても ; totemo 」-> very

「幸せ ; shiawase 」-> happy

「だから ; dakara 」-> because (indicates a reason for something)

= “I’m alright, I’m really happy now, so...”

There are two things to note here in relation to the previous phrase. First of all, notice how both phrases include the word happy. In the first phrase, the Japanese word is ureshii, whereas in this phrase it’s shiawase. Once again, this is a question of nuance.

Ureshii is more of an immediate feeling that you feel in that exact moment. It’s a feeling that isn’t going to last forever (for example the joy you feel when you receive a gift).

Shiawase, on the other hand, is a long-term happiness.

The way to interpret why he is using both these terms is that he uses ureshii as his reaction to Shouto showing that he cares. He most likely didn’t anticipate for Shouto to say something like that, so signaling his concern for Dabi made the latter feel joy in that very moment.

So what about the happiness he talks about in the second phrase, how is it different from the first one? Clearly, Dabi is not exactly someone you would describe as happy when looking at the overall picture. I think one possible explanation as to what the shiawase here refers to is that Dabi has accepted his situation. While it wouldn’t be accurate to describe his state as one of having moved on from the past - clearly - at the very least, through admitting to his past and having distanced himself from that dark place, he has been able to now be in a better situation, where he is allowed to just live rather than trying to prove himself to someone day after day.

The second thing to note is that you might be wondering why I ended the sentence with “...” when the official translation is “I’m fine, because I’m really happy right now.”

Well, it’s kind of an odd sentence, isn’t it? The sentence as it is right there is just giving us a reason. But a reason for what? In Japanese, it’s okay to omit the main clause (the phrase that would follow after this to explain what you just gave a reason for) when it’s obvious what you’re talking about.

This confused me for a little bit until I thought about what sentence came before this one. Right before this Dabi says “I’m glad you were raised kindly.” The sentence we’re looking at right now is an extension of that. And what came before that sentence?

Shouto saying: “Your body will burn too.”

See what I’m getting at?

As explained before, Shouto is essentially telling Dabi “I know you want to kill me, but this is going to kill you.” Now if you add Dabi’s two phrases to that, you get his response as “I’m glad that you’re so considerate. That makes me really happy, so it’s alright if I die.”

Many people have pointed out before that Dabi doesn’t care about whether or not he will make it out alive and this is essentially him confirming just that. His only goal is to ruin Endeavor and knowing he is doing that is enough for him to accept death.

He then continues to explain that joy of his with the next sentence:「見ろよあの顔」

「見ろ」-> look (volitional form)

「よ」-> adds extra emphasis after volitional form

「あの」-> that

「顔」-> face

= “LOOK at that face!”

With his goal being all about destroying Endeavor, seeing this man look so defeated right there is the first proof for Dabi that his plan has worked out. While he doesn’t know yet what the actual consequences for Endeavor are going to be after this, he certainly has damaged him.

The next line reads:「最高傑作のお人形が失敗作の火力に負けて��にそうだってのに。。。！」

「最高傑作 ; saikoukessaku 」-> masterpiece

「の ; no 」-> hierarchy particle (the word before is the general noun, the word after the specific noun)

「お人形 ; oningyou 」-> doll

「が ; ga 」-> subject marker particle

「失敗作 ; shippaisaku 」-> failed creative work

「の ; no 」-> particle to indicate possession, works like an apostrophe

「火力 ; karyoku 」-> firepower

「に ; ni 」-> indirect object marker

「負けて ; makete 」-> being defeated (te-form because another verb follows)

「死に ; shini 」-> going to die

「そうだって ; soudatte 」-> I’m saying it’s so

「のに ; noni 」-> shows disappointment (“If only that weren’t the case”)

= “I say it’s a shame that the masterpiece doll is about to be defeated and die by the firepower of the failed creative work.”

A lot of people take issue with Dabi yet again referring to Shouto as a “doll” here. Obviously, that isn’t a nice thing to say, but please keep in mind that Dabi doesn’t really know Shouto and with that also doesn’t know how Shouto feels about Endeavor. All Dabi sees is Shouto being a hero-to-be, just like Endeavor has planned. Keep in mind that Dabi used to be in Shouto’s shoes, which makes looking at Shouto be like looking in a mirror and seeing young Touya trying so hard to be what his father expects of him, yet failing over and over again. They were both born for that selfish purpose. They were never born to be people, but only born to be what their father needs them to be. And now that Dabi has broken free from that role, it’s natural for him to describe Shouto’s position as such to emphasize it in case the others haven’t understood that this is the reason for their existence and them being right there in that exact moment.

The final part says「グプっ。。。なァ見ろって！壊れちまってるよ！！ははは！！」

「グプっ ; gupuu 」-> special effects sound (I will explain this one in a second)

「なァ ; naa 」-> when placed at the start of a sentence it’s an attention seeker, kind of like a “hey!”

「見ろ ; miro」-> look (volitional)

「って ; tte 」-> to say (in casual conversation this can be used to repeat what one has just said to stress one’s own quote; can show frustration)

「壊れちまってる ; kowarechimatteru」-> be broken (unintentionally; regretfully)

「よ ; yo 」-> sentence ending particle to show emphasis

「ははは ; hahaha 」-> laughing sound

= “Hey, I said LOOK! He is completely broken, hahaha!”

As mentioned in the translation comparison for the last chapter, the chimatteru indicates that the verb it attaches to has happened unintentionally or has yielded regrettable results. We know that it is Dabi’s intention to hurt Endeavor - so him being broken is neither unintentional nor is it regrettable to Dabi.

So in this case it’s not so much about how Dabi feels. Instead, it’s probably more fitting to say that it’s about Endeavor. This situation has broken Endeavor (which is regretful), even though it had never occurred to him that the past could come back to haunt him (he has not intended for this to happen).

[edit because someone pointed out that (as mentioned for the 292 comparison) chimatteru can also be used to indicate something has been done completely, so in this case he is saying Endeavor is completely broken]

Now for the part that I neglected before: the special effects sound gupuu. The reason I have been holding off an explanation is simply that it’s not necessarily that important for the sentence, however, when I looked this up this was the result:

Yes, you’re reading that correctly: *slurp*

I had a good laugh about that. The holy trinity of the slurping brothers is complete (albeit Dabi doesn’t have the noodles to go with it)

Anyway, back to the serious stuff!

Next, we get this big panel of Dabi with the three speech bubbles. Notice that there are several ha to indicate that he is laughing.

The speech bubbles all put together read:「焦凍！！俺の炎でおまえが焼けたらお父さんはどん��顔を見せてくれるかなァ！？」

「焦凍 ; shouto 」-> Shouto

「俺 ; ore 」-> I

「の ; no 」-> particle to indicate possession, works like an apostrophe

「炎 ; honoo 」-> flames

「で ; de 」-> by

「おまえ ; omae 」-> you

「が ; ga 」-> subject marker particle

「焼け ; yake 」-> to burn

「たら ; tara 」-> when (focuses on the results that can come from this first part)

「お父さん ; otousan 」-> dad

「は ; wa 」-> object marker particle

「どんな ; donna 」-> what kind of

「顔 ; kao 」-> face

「を ; wo 」-> direct object marker particle

「見せて ; misete」-> to show (te-form to connect to the next part)

「くれる ; kureru」-> something was done for the speaker (being shown)

「かなァ ; kanaa 」-> I wonder

= “I wonder what kind of face dad will show me, when you get burned by my flames, Shouto!?”

The official translation added the “burn you to ash” part, which just adds more harshness to this than there already is. I’m not exactly opposed to that as I do recognize that he is being harsh here, however, this overall theme of adding words to make the villains sound harsher is just not what a translator is supposed to do so it is important to point it out.

Also notice the kureru, which is used when something was given to or done for the listener (i.e. a favor). Previously, Shouto has pointed out that Dabi would not survive his attempt at burning Shouto, either, and yet here he is wondering specifically what face Endeavor will show him. He isn’t just wondering what face this man will make, but what his reaction would be that his own failure has killed his masterpiece.

After Deku interferes we get this panel of Dabi and this is where the conversation between him and Shouto ends and his speech to Deku starts.

The Japanese version essentially says the same as the translation:「他所の家に首突っ込むなよ！」

「他所」-> another place; outside (one’s family or group)

「の」-> particle to indicate possession, works like an apostrophe

「家」-> family

「に」-> in

「首突っ込む」-> expression to poke one’s nose into another’s affair; lit.: “to thrust one’s neck into something”

「な」-> sentence ending particle; expresses emotion/sentiment

「よ」-> sentence ending particle; shows emphasis

= “Don’t stick your neck (nose) into other people’s family!”

After this, we get the part where Deku gives his speech with the “And guess what?! You’re not Endeavor!” part that was supposed to… reach what exactly?

Someone pointed out that this wasn’t supposed to be an “It’s your power!” 2.0 speech, because with Shouto, Deku wanted to get to him and help him. With Dabi, on the other hand, he is saying (and he literally is saying this) that Endeavor is trying to be better. And Dabi not being Endeavor means that Dabi is not trying to be better. That, in turn, means that Deku is watching this Endeavor, the one that is trying to be better, but someone like Dabi who isn’t trying isn’t something worth watching.

Anyway, regardless of what the point of that phrase was, Dabi’s reaction is mocking this obvious statement

The Japanese line says「はははそんな事が誰でもわかる！！」

「ははは ; hahaha 」-> laughing

「そんな ; sonna 」-> such

「事 ; koto 」-> thing

「が ; ga 」-> subject marker particle

「誰でも ; daredemo 」-> anyone

「わかる ; wakaru」-> to understand

= “Hahaha, anyone understands such a thing!”

Continued by this part.

The first line here says「でも俺はかわいそうな人間だろ！？」

「でも ; demo 」-> but

「俺 ; ore 」-> I

「は ; wa 」-> topic marker particle

「かわいそうな ; kawaisou na 」-> pitiable; poor

「人間 ; ningen 」-> human

「だろ ; daro 」-> don’t you think?

= “But I am a pitiable human, don’t you think!?”

What’s interesting to note about this line is the use of ningen. Normally, you would more likely use the word「人」(hito), meaning person, when you put another word in front of it. After all, when you talk about another person (much like I am using the word right now) it’s obvious they are human, so you wouldn’t need to use the word human.

With that, Dabi specifically using the word human here is done in order to humanize himself to Deku. Not only is he asking “hey, don’t you pity me at least a little?” but rather he is saying: “I get that you think I’m just some low-life villain, but I am a human being with valid feelings, so don’t just ignore them because you don’t see me trying.”

Again - Dabi chooses his words carefully and this is no exception.

If you paid extra close attention, you might have noticed that the word kawaisou gets used again. But did you spot the difference? While in the first example the word is written in kanji as 「可哀想」now it’s completely written in hiragana. Why is that? You might wonder, and I did too. Keep in mind that the first time the word gets used here (written in kanji), Dabi is referring to Shouto. This time (written in hiragana) he is referring to himself. Kanji are generally used because it makes texts easier to read since there are no spaces in Japanese. Much like the rest of us, Japanese people are also born with zero kanji knowledge and learn about them as they grow up. Because of this, books for children tend to just be in hiragana (the letter Kota writes to Deku thanking him for having saved him is also written in just hiragana) so they can easily read them. With that, a text in all hiragana gives off a more childish, cute, innocent kinda feel.

Obviously, in spoken Japanese, you can’t hear that he is saying this word in hiragana. But we know that he is. So aside from him using the word human to make him more, well, human, he is also saying the word pitiable in an innocent way, which furthers the image he is trying to create of himself; that of an innocent human being that has been wronged. Because clearly, someone has to help the heroes see that villains are also people. As mentioned before, this is a common theme of the League of Villains and has most recently been brought up by Toga’s question to Uraraka of whether or not the heroes saw Twice as a person. Dabi is, in a way, asking that same question, just with several exclamation marks.

The second line says「正義の味方が犯した罪それが俺だ！」

「正義 ; seigi」-> justice

「の ; no 」-> particle to indicate possession, works like an apostrophe

「味方 ; mikata 」-> supporter

「が ; ga 」-> subject marker particle

「犯した ; okashita 」-> committed

「罪 ; tsumi 」-> crime

「それ ; sore 」-> that

「が ; ga 」-> subject marker particle

「俺 ; ore 」-> I

「だ ; da 」-> casual form of です (desu); be; is

= “The crimes committed by the champion of justice: that’s me.”

That first part seigi no mikata is sort of a set expression, but I wanted to break it down so you can see what the actual words are. It’s generally translated as champion of justice, knight in shining armor, crime avenger, or hero. Hero is obviously not the right translation here, since they just use the word hero for the profession. Champion of justice is just the closest to the actual words, hence I chose that translation.

The official translation is once again being biased with this sentence, this time though not so much to make the villains look worse, but to make a hero look less bad. While the Japanese version says that this “champion of justice” aka Endeavor has committed crimes that resulted in Dabi’s existence, the translation changed it to “did some vile stuff” which is seriously downplaying the fact that a Pro Hero, whose job it is to fight criminals, is actually a criminal himself! It’s just yet again a very odd change to make, especially given the fact that we know that Endeavor has committed crimes. So why make it sound like less here?

Okay, so you might be confused about this line if you read both the fan translation, as well as the official translation.

Again, the official translation says “evil is thriving” - the fan translation, on the other hand, says “evil will no longer prosper.”

To opposite meanings for the same short phrase. Why is that?

You see, the first line says「悪が栄えるんじゃねェ！」

「悪 ; aku 」-> evil

「が ; ga 」-> subject marker particle

「栄える ; sakaeru 」-> to prosper

「んじゃねェ ; n janee 」-> “isn’t it” (see explanation below)

= “Evil will prosper, won’t it?”

The reason for that confusion is that last part, n janee, because its meaning depends on the context, and with that, in cases like this, it’s less obvious which it is.

This is a rougher way of the casual n janai, which is a more casual way of no janai, which is a more casual form of no de wa arimasen. Or in simple terms: it’s very casual.

So what does it mean? Like I said, the meaning depends on the context.

The no is an explanatory particle and when paired with janai can be used for when you express an opinion, whilst seeking the listener’s opinion.

So you can treat it as a “isn’t it” in an affirmative sentence (when you express your opinion or talking about probability), but you can also use it to negate a sentence (hence the two opposite translations). The former can also be used when you’re making a point.

Knowing that it’s pretty much down to context, we have to ask what makes more sense. Is Dabi saying that evil will prosper, or is he saying evil doesn’t prosper?

To put this into context, you have to look at the surrounding sentences. Prior to this one, Dabi mentioned that he is the crimes of the hero system. In the next phrase, he talks about justice collapsing. Because of that, I think “evil will prosper” is a more accurate translation as justice collapses as a result of evil - unless you interpret evil as being about the heroes.

Anyway, the second line says「正義が側板するだけ！」

「正義 ; seigi 」-> justice

「が ; ga 」-> subject marker particle

「側板 ; gakai 」-> collapse; downfall

「する ; suru 」-> to do (turns the noun it attaches to into a verb)

「だけ ; dake 」-> only

= “Justice will only collapse!”

If you look back at the official translation, it says “Justice is losing this war!” Meanwhile, the Japanese version doesn’t mention the words losing or war. While they still somewhat say the same thing, losing a war doesn’t inherently lead to irreversible, long-term effects. Instead, this situation is about more than just losing this war. The entire system is taking a fatal blow from this. Not even so much from this war, though. The reason Dabi is so certain that this will be the downfall for justice is that how are people supposed to still trust in this justice system when those that are supposed to defend it are criminals themselves? It’s more of a natural consequence resulting from a system that has been corrupt for far too long - the exposure is simply what will put an end to it.

The third line in that part is「俺はその責任を感情豊かな皆々様に示しただけだ」

「俺 ; ore 」-> I

「は ; wa 」-> topic marker particle

「その ; sono 」-> that

「責任 ; sekinin」-> duty; responsibility

「を ; wo 」-> direct object marker

「感情 ; kanjou」-> emotion

「豊かな ; yutaka na」-> extremely; very

「皆々様 ; minaminasama」-> everyone

「に ; ni 」-> to

「示した ; shimeshita」-> pointed out; showed

「だけだ ; dake」-> only

「だ; da 」-> casual form of です (desu); be; is

= “I only pointed this responsibility out to all you very emotional people.”

What irked me about this phrase in particular in the official translation was yet again the choice of words. I get that Dabi has a rough way of speaking. But sometimes, he chooses to use polite words and that shouldn’t be erased.

So when the official translation makes him say “All I’m doing is showing you sentimental dopes who’s to blame for that!” It’s just a rude phrase. But in Japanese he says minaminasama. You might be familiar with the word minna or minna-san, with the san in the latter example being a polite suffix (kind of like Mr./Mrs.,...). Sama is similar to that but even more polite. So minaminasama is about as polite as you can go. There might not be a direct English equivalent to that level of politeness, but I think we can all understand that “dopes” is not a correct translation here.

The responsibility/blame part goes back to what Deku said to him. “You aren’t Endeavor” - no, he isn't. And no, he isn’t exactly trying to be better. But that kind of mentality only ignores the obvious fact that this all could’ve been prevented, had it not been for Endeavor and his own selfish goals. It was a hero - the “champion of justice” - that committed crimes just like a villain. But it’s unheard of for a hero to do such a thing. Society doesn’t get shaken at its core when it hears about a villain committing a crime. A hero, on the other hand, being found guilty of a criminal record, will lead to people doubting the integrity of heroes altogether and that is not Dabi’s doing. All he does is share the truth.

To round this speech off, we get one last phrase:

“The future coming down the pipeline… is one where all that schmaltz and lip service is gonna get blown away by the chaos!”

The Japanese line says「これから訪れる未来はきってキレイ事など吹けば飛んでく混沌だろうぜ！」

「これから ; korekara 」-> from now on; after this

「訪れる ; otozureru 」-> to arrive

「未来 ; mirai 」-> future

「は ; wa 」-> topic marker particle

「きっと ; kitto 」-> surely; without a doubt

「キレイ事; kireigoto」-> glossing over; lip service

「など ; nado 」-> such as

「吹けば ; fukeba 」-> to blow (conditional form of fuku)

「飛んでく ; tondeku」-> to go flying (short for tonde iku)

「混沌 ; konton」-> chaos

「だろう ; darou」-> it seems; don’t you think?

「ぜ ; ze 」-> ending particle for emphasis (more casual/ruder version of yo)

= “Surely, if things like this lip service get blown over, the future coming after this will be chaos flying around.”

In Japanese, there are several conditional forms. The ba form, as used here in fukeba, is used when the preceding clause expresses a condition, which results in natural consequences. In this case, something happens in case pretty things get blown over.

Mirai is one of the words you can use to talk about the future in Japanese. This word is more intangible and more general rather than being about one specific event or person, so everyone will be affected by this.

And with that, we have made it through all of his speech from this chapter, congrats!

Something you may have noticed is that there are plenty of particles you can use at the end of a sentence, usually for emphasis. One of the most common ones you find throughout the chapter are yo and ze. Yo is a pretty standard one to show emphasis, whereas ze is more of a colloquial version of yo that has an assertive feel and is therefore usually only used when speaking in very casual conversations or to someone of lower social status than you. Dabi has used this on Endeavor before and is now also using it on Deku - aka his opponents.

Going back to the start of the chapter when Dabi is mainly focused on Shouto, though, he ends most of his sentences with naa. As mentioned before, this particle is used to express emotions/sentiment.

He also uses that during their first on-screen interaction during the summer camp. While I do think that Dabi is mainly still only seeing Shouto as an extension of Endeavor, I do think that there is also a part of him that does see himself in him and that can somewhat sympathize with him. He isn’t being as rough on him overall (verbally that is), and instead is trying to come off as more emotional, possibly just to appeal more to him.

To sum it up, there are a lot of things that just get lost in translation due to nuances that don’t exist in English. More often than not, though, the villains are being given harsher words, whereas anything related to heroes is softened. Dabi is constantly shown to be someone who puts great care and thought into the words he uses, so there is a lot of that emotional intelligence that gets neglected in the translation and then makes him seem more like someone on a random mission rather than someone who has put genuine thought into this.

There are still so many people in the fandom who, for some reason, think Dabi is in the wrong and irredeemable for having killed thirty people, whilst having the same stance as Deku in thinking that Endeavor is much better because at least he is trying.

While they should both be held accountable for their actions, Dabi has a good point when he said that heroes are to blame for his existence and that their crimes are what will ruin the justice system and not him.

Best Jeanist’s reaction to this whole situation was complaining that Dabi uses his personal past to shed a bad light on the heroes, which summarizes that exact problem of the hero society: That heroes are more concerned with their own image than actually being heroes who go above and beyond to bring about peace and safety.

Seeing Shouto’s reaction, being concerned about his big brother rather than himself, is at the very least giving some hope that at least one person on the hero side is able to see beyond the villain exterior and see them as a human-being - without needing a long speech for it.

We’ll have to wait and see how this is going to continue, but in more likeliness, the official English translation will continue to include its bias.

If you’ve made it this far - thank you so much for reading! This post was filled with a lot of information and trust me when I say some of these lines almost broke me as I tried to understand them. I hope I could clarify some parts of the chapter, though, specifically Dabi’s character, since the official translation loves to change his character.

#bnha #dabi #293 #translation #meta #boku no hero academia #bnha 293 #todoroki #shouto #touya #mha #my hero academia #mine #japanese

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letsperaltiago · 5 years ago

Text

because you’re the reason i go on

the post-”trying”, angsty, emotional, 6k+ oneshot no one asked for

Jake and Amy confront Camila Santiago about her judgemental ways at a Santiago-family event.

They’d been sitting quietly on their couch one afternoon, one where they both happened to have the day off, for once allowing them to hang around the apartment with no specific or urgent to-dos on their minds. This resulted in Amy keeping herself busy on their shared laptop, taking up a corner of their couch with her legs stretched out and feet resting in her husband’s lap, whilst Jake himself played Mario Party – he’d never say it out loud, because, in the end, it didn’t matter when it was the for the sake of their possible future child, but he’d really missed playing when the ‘way more scheduled’-Amy way had flipped their daily lives upside down.

It’d been a week, just barely, since they’d shared a disappointed glance at the sight of yet another, and for some time the last, pregnancy test in Amy’s hand. They both know a week wasn’t a long time meaning the aching in their hearts was perfectly normal. Just as well, giving them a sense of faith, the fact that they very much had each other to lean on and help manage the pain and frustration they still felt meant everything was, given the circumstances, fine.

Or at least it was until the updating of her inbox notified her of a new, very specific email which immediately caught her full attention.

As soon as the letters came together, quickly deciphered by her brain to form words with meaning, said meaning sent a dagger through her heart completely paralysing her. Even distracted by his video game he, Jake, could tell from the way the typing and clicking of the keyboard had so abruptly stopped that his wife had stopped amidst whatever she was doing.

“What’s up?” His eyes stayed glued to the tv where he was currently almost, and for once finally, beating Wario in the final lap of the game. Although that didn’t last for long since his wife’s obvious lack of reply, compared to Wario catching up to him during the final, crucial seconds, raised significantly greater awareness.

“Ames?” he tried looking this time, quickly snapping his head in her direction as to not miss out on the game, only to be met by the blank, hopeless expression on her face and still body: Something was definitely wrong.

“Hey,” this time he rushed to put down the controller, not caring about whether or not Wario would beat him again and instead using his newly freed hands to caringly rub her knee as he scooted in closer. “Amy, babe, what happened? Are you okay?”

Her empty expression, still staring blankly at the laptop screen, stayed stuck for another few beats before a small, single, torturously slow tear rolled down her cheek. This of course immediately alerted Jake even more.

“Amy,” he desperately tried to snap her out of it with a pleading, although remaining calm, voice whilst squeezing her knee as if she somehow, maybe, had forgotten he was there with her.

That’s when she finally resurfaced, turning her face to look directly at him only to reveal that there were matching tears rolling down her other, before out of sight to him, cheek. Although the last few months had been hard and had taken its toll on them both, especially her, Amy had seemed fine once they’d settled on not thinking about babies for a while: They both slept significantly better, reverted to their enjoyment of what was their usual regularities and, all in all, everything seemed back to the way things were.

So this sudden eruption of sadness from his wife, when just 30 minutes ago they’d joked around talking about what take-out, something they’d missed dearly during their trying-times, they should treat themselves with for dinner that night, worried Jake a lot.

“It’s-” she finally broke her muteness, then once again briefly pausing in silence to catch her breath like she’d been holding it. “Tony and Elena.”

Her husband’s brows furrowed with worry. He couldn’t tell what exactly she meant, which he hated, but it had struck her like lighting from a clear sky so it obviously had to be a great, sorrowful deal to her.

“What happened? Are they okay?”

With Amy’s huge family it was sometimes hard to keep track of every single member, but Jake had gotten pretty familiar with all of the Santiago-brothers and took, especially, great liking to the second oldest Tony.

“Y-yeah, they’re fine but they’re-“ her voice’s transition into whimpering interrupted her as she tried to hold back incoming tears alas quickly failing to do so.

“Jake, I’m such a horrible person for reacting like this,” her whimpering evolved further into small heaving sobs prompting Jake to, gently as to not further upset her, take the laptop away from her to get a look at whatever had triggered such reaction. His eyes wandered across the screen for a brief moment before his frame froze the same exact way her’s had just minutes earlier.

‘SURPRISE! JOIN US IN CELEBRATING ANOTHER FUTURE SANTIAGO’, wide and bold, screamed from the subject line of what was indeed and very clearly an email-invite to Elena and Tony Santiago’s baby reveal + shower.

A heavy sigh along with a defeated drop of Jake’s shoulders complied with the so happy yet so distressing nature of the news.

“Oh, babe…” he’d put the laptop away in order to be able to move freely before moving in to engulf his wife in the tightest hug possible allowing her to cry her sadness out into the crook of his neck, a spot which had grown to be her safe place, where she’d automatically buried her face the moment he pulled her sideways into his lap.

In Jake’s ears, not only as her husband but also being her best friend, any cry, even the smallest sniffle, from Amy Santiago was absolutely heartrending and a perfect world would be one where his wife was never hurt, angered or confused enough to need to utter these kind of sounds. In this perfect world there would be constant peace in her mind, a smile on her face and, goddamn, he wished more than anything else, a baby in her belly.

His hand, which had automatically tightened around her figure, started rubbing soothing circles between her heaving shoulder blade, the other pushing her beautiful raven locks of hair away from her face. There, to the newly exposed forehead, all while saying nothing thus giving her the needed space to cry it out all while wrapping her up in a safe presence of his own, he pressed a tender kiss. Quite a few years spent together with her had led to a lot more of maturing on his part. Suddenly he saw, understood even, a lot of the matters and issues from her perspective, one he’d before called the one of an ‘old cat-lady’. Jake had learned a lot from Amy, which he was especially thankful for during these kind of scenarios where he needed her. He took pride in being needed by Amy Santiago; thus he had to do it right.

This also meant that sometimes it was better to say nothing at all. “Silence is just as powerful as words” was one of the things she’d had taught him, so as long as he got to sit with her, letting her know that he was there for her, Jake could feel calm and confident about not interrupting her crying.

It was not too long after when the sobs, shaking and shock slowly wore off and silence engulfed the two wrapped up figures.

“Hey,” he spoke softly. Silence was the only reply he got but he was okay with that. The necessity of a reply wasn’t there; her attention was enough and he knew he had it. Meanwhile his neck had craned in an attempt to get the best possible look at her face where it was still resting into the soft curve of his neck. The tiniest shuffle of her shoulder as she readjusted in his lap confirmed that she indeed listening.

“You don’t have to do anything you genuinely don’t want to do. You know that right?”

It was all she could give for now, which was okay, Jake thought, when he felt the nodding movement of her head against his neck.

“Okay good,” he paused thinking for a brief second before resolving on leaving a feathery stroke to her forehead with the length of his nose, his lips automatically taking over afterwards in one swift movement.

“We don’t have to go if you’re not genuinely feeling up for it. We can just say we both have work that day.”

Beneath where his hands were continuously drawing lazy circles on her upper back Jake could tell she was thinking – hard. Then suddenly her face was no longer hiding in his soft skin, instead she rose to an upright position although remained put in his lap. With red eyes, a version of his favorite pair of eyes he hated to witness, she looked at him.

“I just...” She sniffed in the process of wiping tears off her face with the back of the hand that wasn’t keeping her stable with a hold on her husband’s firm shoulder. “If I choose not to go then it means I’m letting this deterring situation get the best of me, and I just-“

As if he hadn’t already been aching for his wife and feeling utterly frustrated by the feeling that came along with it being way beyond his control, her voice, once again, started to quake, slowly and torturously breaking Jake’s heart like a disk on repeat. The following words made it out in-between tiny sobs and heaving halts from trying to hold them back.

“I can’t let it control me, Jake. I don’t want to it to define me more than it already has.”

It. Two letters: one word… The one, little word substituting for whatever force was keeping them from becoming pregnant contained so much pain. He cupped her face in his hands trying to fight her tears by wiping them away but alas; every time he had, new ones just dropped right in the exact same spot.

“Shhh,” he whispered pulling her back into his chest with the strong urge, and the only way he could think of to protect her from what, lately, had been the very cruel and unfair world around them. He didn’t say anything else right away once again leaving her space to continue speaking if she wished to, but all that came out of her and into his neck were small whimpers.

“It doesn’t define you, Ames. You’re bigger than this and it doesn’t change who you are. And for every single ‘me’ you say, you have to remember that I’m right here in this with you. Whatever has happened and whatever will happen is something we’re in together.”

Shuffling against his neck followed by the tingling sensation of her warm lips against the skin let him know that what he’d said had struck the right chord.

“Thank you,” she croaked.

“No, thank you for being so incredible. And if you want to go then we will and if you don’t, then that’s alright too and we just won’t. No bigger deal than that, okay?”

He looked down to be met by a rush of relief; a tiny faint smile was once again present on her face.

“Okay.”

***

Thus it resulted in Jake and Amy, together as the unit they were, deciding to disregard what the pain was telling them to do and instead just go. A few days after their talk that afternoon, the emotional knockout upon receiving the email, Amy had looked herself in the mirror one evening and agreed with herself: no, this shouldn’t define her and therefor she wouldn’t let it.

But even then, on the morning of the baby shower, Amy caught herself feeling overwhelmed, emotions stronger than anticipated even though she was still circling around the will to admit. Slow and unconsciously, allowing her no fighting chance to prevent it, a train of pestering thoughts infested her mind. Looking at her reflection in the mirror feeling ready and put together, pretty even, wearing simple makeup and one of her staple floral dresses, she suddenly hated how she wished the skirt of it was draped over a round belly, one with a baby in it, rather than her usual curves.

In the midst of this staring contest from hell with her own reflection there was suddenly the sudden urge to break down all over again; give up and go back to bed like a way more manageable alternative to smiling and pretending to be okay around people who’d so easily accessed what she was dying to have. In the very same instance her jaw locked in an attempt to hold back a whimper, when her eyes blinked obsessively to wipe away incoming tears forming in the sockets, her husband, thankfully, appeared behind her in the reflection she suddenly hated so much.

“Is my favorite incredible, beautiful wife ready to go?” He wrapped his arms around her middle like it was the most right thing in the world instantly making her forget that, just a second, she’d hate that specific area of her body.

Amy could feel her jaw unclench and the tears stand down from their position on the verge to falling the minute the sound and feeling of Jake engulfed her. This was without a doubt what saved her from breaking down right then and there.

“As ready as she’ll ever be,” she sighed with a small smile looking at him in the mirror.

He nodded, understanding.

“Good. And remember: if it becomes too much, or you’re just not feeling it, then let me know. We’ll be out of there before you can say ‘Pierogis, potato pancakes and hot chocolate’.”

This turned out to be an excellent example of exactly why she needed Jake Peralta: a chuckle danced off her lips as it was indeed close to, if not entirely, impossible not to be charmed by his small jokes and overall sweetness. She then turned around hitting him with the kind of smile she knew he was always yearning for like she did for his.

“Thank you, I will,” she placed a hand to his cheek to stroke it in a small act of gratitude. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Ames. So much,” he quickly pecked her lips before sending her a tender smile.

“And I wish I could continue to stand around all day to tell you that over and over again, but I really don’t feel like being on the receiving end of that judgmental look your mom always gives me if we are more than 10 seconds late.”

Once again her point was proven: it was impossible to hold back a smile and chuckle around him.

“That’s fair. Let’s go.”

They untangled only to lock hands on their way to the car. The 30-minute drive to Tony and Elena’s house was comfortable considering where they were headed to and how nervous Amy had felt right before leaving the house.

To her defense, with Jake’s right hand on her thigh rubbing small circles with his thumb, accompanied by their favorite jams and loud, horrible but nonetheless enjoyable singing, Amy actually forgot why she was feeling anxious about the day’s event in the first place. This especially when Jake performed ‘My Heart Will Go On’ in such a cheesy and overdramatic way, right to the point where it was almost too much since he chose to direct every word at her whilst, of course, still focusing on the road ahead. Luckily there were quite a few red lights along the trip for him to safely twist his body and directly serenade her with his Celine Dion-impression which successfully earned him loud affectionate laughter.

The mood was set and they were both ready to take on whatever the previously half-dreaded baby shower would turn out to hit them with: good or bad. Although, when they knocked on the front door Jake felt Amy shuffle nervously. Wanting to put out the fire of anxiety he could tell was sparking within her, he quickly grabbed his wife’s hand to give it a small, affectionate squeeze, telling her he was right there. They’d agreed on this and he’d do anything within his power to take sure: the baby shower would be okay.

And it had been okay.

It had been okay to see Elena glow with her growing, round belly. It had been okay to be surrounded by colorful balloons, cupcakes and presents. It had been okay to congratulate her brother and his wife, genuinely meaning it from the bottom of her heart. It had been okay.

Until it hadn’t been.

All the guests, which included eight Santiago-siblings with respective partners plus the future grandparents and a couple of Tony and Elena’s closest friends, were all spread throughout the living room in the suburban home. It had been a couple of hours of mingling, opening gifts and snacking on color-coordinated goods, and although one of them would occasionally stray off or get pulled aside by a familiar face, Jake and Amy mostly stuck together and admired the buzzing brunch-party from a safe distance. This when they weren’t catching up with Amy’s siblings or giving Tony a helping hand with small tasks so that he could enjoy the festivities alongside his wife.

Everything was going smoothly making Amy consider how she’d completely blown the entire thing out of proportions before coming. In retrospect she could see how it had been silly and a waste of her own energy to be so scared of feeling like the odd one out on a day that was Tony and Elena’s day. No one would actually care about her lack of a growing baby-bump when they were here to celebrate someone else’s.

Or that’s what she’d thought.

“Amy, ” Elena’s mother had called out sending them a warm accommodating smile as she snaked her way through the crowd to where they were currently resting on the couch while enjoying some kind of sweet sparkling wine.

“Hello, Mrs. Cardea,” Amy greeted politely as she got back on her feet to hug the slightly familiar face. Tony and Elena had been together for quite a while, even before getting married 3 years prior, which meant Elena’s mother was no stranger. On the other hand it’d been a while since Amy had last seen her, which meant the introduction and use of last name was more out of politeness and routine than anything else.

“It’s nice to see you again, dear. It’s a luck that I frequent your mother quite a bit so that she can let me know how you’re doing.”

“I’m sorry it’s been so long,” Amy returned the sweet sentiment of the older woman’s remark. Beside her she could feel Jake follow her lead standing up and reaching out to shake the newcomers hand.

“Hi, Mrs. Cardea. I’m Jake Peralta.” He paired the greeting with his best polite smile.

“Oh,” the older woman’s eyes widened. “So you’re the famous boyfriend of the only Santiago-girl? ”

The couple let out a collective chuckle exchanging tiny, secret smiles in reaction to the unintentional mislabeling.

“Husband, actually,” Jake grinned proudly raising his hand to show off the silver-band which, with two years of marriage and an even older love, felt like natural, extended part of his body.

As if the revelation had come out of nowhere, which puzzled Amy since her mother must’ve mentioned their marriage to Mrs. Cardea at some point, if they spoke regularly, like the woman claimed, Mrs. Cardea’s smile transitioned into a lightly confused gape.

“My oh my,” Mrs. Cardea seemed to be at a loss of words but quickly picked herself back up and within seconds the smile, warm and genuine, was back. But even then Amy could tell something was off. “I can’t believe Camila didn’t tell me. Must’ve slipped her mind.”

The wedding of her only daughter slipped her mind? Amy hoped to God Elena’s mom was right, a feeling of anger slowly coming to a simmer inside of her. Although she couldn’t let people around her know, she had the strong urge to storm of to talk to her mom or pull Jake aside to rant, but for now she bit her lip and put on a brave, now very forged smile.

“Yeah…” Amy tried to give the off-roading conversation a nudge back on track which Jake quickly picked up on, prompting him to reassuringly grab her hand. “… I’m sure she just forgot.”

“I’m sure it’s a mouthful with so many kids to keep track of,” Mrs. Cardea cackled obviously not picking up on the iffy mood surrounding the topic.

Then the feared, for a while forgotten, bomb was dropped.

“Speaking of kids, especially now that I know that you’re married: when are you going to give this fine young husband of yours his first child?”

First of all Amy hated how she made it sound like she would be making Jake a favor by falling pregnant. Secondly, if Amy thought she’d already gone through the peak of the pain from what they were going through at the moment, then she was dead wrong. Right then and there, being slapped across the face with those words, Amy felt her heart completely fall apart. More frustrating than not being physically able to make a child was being reminded of it by a, basically, stranger who knew nothing of what they were going through within the four walls of their home.

Beside her, out of the corner of her eye, there was no doubt that Jake had flinched along with her, evidently clenching his jaw in order to suppress a biting reply. If it hadn’t been for the crowd around them she would’ve collapsed in anger and tears, meanwhile he would’ve definitely snapped at the poor Mrs. Cardea.

“We’re just getting settled into married life and we’re in no rush. It’ll happen when it happens.”

To Amy’s relief Jake did his best, as always, to stay calm and advert the situation in favor of them both. He squeezed her hand, firmly believing what he said even though it also happened to be a half, tiny white lie since now was no time nor place to tell a stranger that ‘Well we’ve been trying for the past eight months, hopelessly and with every trick in the book, but nothing seems to work so right now we’re kind of just trying to get through the pain of quite possible not being able to conceive.’

Even though Jake, Amy included, thought he’d adverted the situation nicely apparently Mrs. Cardea saw this from a completely different perspective. The older woman’s before sweet smile faltered to one of a rather skeptical nature, implicitly telling the couple that this was not what she’d expected to hear.

“Well…” the older woman recomposed herself to speak even though all Jake and Amy wished for was to get away from the conversation and the radical road it was currently being forced down. Amy knew her family was one of old traditions, and even though she’d learned to deal with it and, to some extent, respect it, she in no way wished for her and Jake to take part in it. They were their own family.

“Just make sure to not wait around for too long, Amy. I mean, compared to your brothers, it has already taken you quite some time to evem get married: you wouldn’t want to risk waiting for, well, too long, to make a baby.”

Amy thought she’d just barely survived the worst but now, this, was the equivalent of an emotional apocalypse slowly shutting her entire being and will to do, try, speak, anything, down. Her surroundings seemed to darken letting her know it was only a matter of crucial moments before she’d be shut down completely and beyond social criterion. The simultaneous ache in her head, her heart, her entire body actually, was too overwhelming to ignore anymore.

“I’m-“ she barely managed to utter whilst staring into nothing because it was better than to look at anything in this room that reminded her of what she for some ungodly reason couldn’t have. “You’ll have to excuse me.”

With the blunt announcement that she was leaving, not even caring about what Elena’s mom thought of her sudden switch, Amy detangled her hand from Jake’s in order to rush away to wherever she could turn into a decent hiding place. For the next few hours or perhaps forever. Suddenly, like an epiphany, all she could seem to think about was getting out of the house and lock herself inside their car. There, at least, there was no risk getting found since, apparently, no one knew she was married and, even less, had a champagne-colored midsized Sedan. It was bulletproof.

Or, it was, right up until life seemed to have other plans for her, because getting to the car turned out to mean ‘going through the kitchen’ and ‘going through the kitchen’ meant ‘stumbling into her mother’, who then was about to reprimand her for not paying attention to where she was going. the sight of tears streaming down her daughter’s face caused her to halt though.

“What’s wrong, mija?”

Wrong. The word haunted her: she, Amy Santiago, was wrong: her body was wrong, biology was wrong, giving up was wrong, continuing to try was wrong, all in all everything was wrong. It had to be when something she wanted more than anything else in the world seemingly wasn’t meant to be hers. However, her mother, the one person in her life who was, more than anyone else, supposed to make her feel right? She made her feel, if possible, even more faulty.

Seconds prior to the colliding all she had been able to think about was getting the hell out of the house. But now, seeing her mother, triggered something angry, spiteful even, within her, setting free all the words and thoughts her brain, unknowing to Amy herself, had formed.

“What’s wrong, you ask?” Amy heaved with broken, wet eyes shooting daggers. Her brain short-circuited making Amy unsure of exactly what had been said past this point. “You’ve kept my marriage a secret because you’re embarrassed.”

“What are you talking about? Why would I be embarrassed?”

“Because your only daughter, the only chance for you to experience ‘your little girl becoming a mother’, has been married for two years,” she over-articulated the last two words as emphasis. “And she still hasn’t had a child of her own, and to make matters even worse? She’s not even pregnant. That’s, apparently, embarrassing.”

Amy felt a figure rush up behind alas the heat of the moment resulted in her not even caring one bit. Tears were impairing her sight and all she had to get through was another few points – then she could leave.

“Ames, honey,” the figure behind her was Jake gently mumbling into her ear, carefully, as to not startle her before placing his hands on her waist. “We can go if you want to.”

He could tell his mother-in-law looked rather pale, more tight-lipped than usual, but had yet to put two and two together. That was until Amy spoke up again, chest heaving with all the sadness and sobs she was fighting so hard to repress.

“I’m not embarrassed, Amy,” her mother spoke to her own defense, of course paired with the look of pity, a look Amy hated. “I just don’t understand why you and Jake want to wait so long? Why is it that you must do things differently than everyone else just to prove a point?”

Not only did this strike Amy twice as hard as anything else that’d been said that day; this time Jake was not only aching for his wife but also for himself. This was bigger and more personal than Camila Santiago having high expectations for her kids, wanting them to shine and succeed at everything. No, this time it was wholly inequitable discrimination of her daughter’s way of living her life, included Jake and the things she struggled with when no one else was looking.

This was also drawing a line; the very last straw.

Jake broke in, stepped out from behind Amy to instead take a protective stand in front of her. It was no secret that Jake was terrified of his mother-in-law but if there was something which could make him not give that the tiniest care in the world, then it was the second she dismissed Amy they way she just had.

“First of all, with all due respect, Camila, you have no right to deprecate the things Amy, neither the things Amy and I, do and do not chose to do. It’s her life and while you’re her mother, which is just one of many good reasons why you should support her unconditionally, you have no right to talk her down the way you are right now.”

Angry was not a word Jake was very familiar with but by now his regular voice had definitely transitioned into a defensive scowl, eyes shadowed by anger and jaw clenched whenever he wasn’t speaking: he was not about to let another one of Mrs. Santiago’s jab at his wife slip by – especially now that it concerned such a delicate matter.

“All Amy wants is to please you, but you never actually take the time to acknowledge anything she does and at some point, which I strongly believe is now, it has to stop. You can’t reprimand her like she’s a little child living a life as if it was an open, always accessible book to you. You don’t know half the things she does and goes through: you take no interest in hearing about or understanding the bad, the hard, the frustrating… And the incredible things she does? You ignorantly dismiss them. She has no chance of winning with you.”

Jake was almost chuffing from lack of air caused by combination of exuding anger and the fast talking. He too was now getting emotional feeling the weight of the past months pushing down on him. Leading up to today’s events he’d remained extra strong and supportive for Amy but, truth be told, he was hurting just as much as she was.

“As a matter of fact, if you must know, Amy and I have been trying for a baby for quite some time now… And it’s been very,” he paused to swallow and compose himself before continuing, ”hard.”

A lump started to form in his throat, obviously affecting the pitch of his voice quickly prompting Amy to grab his right hand with both of hers from where she was still shielded behind him. Before him, when she finally seemed to understand what Jake was really telling her, he could clearly tell how Camila’s expression changed from cold, probably annoyed by her daughter’s “rowdy husband” meddling, to shocked and actually showing emotions.

“Oh, mija,” she looked past Jake to get a hold of her daughter’s hiding eyes. “I had no idea. You should’ve told me… It doesn’t have to mean that you can’t have a baby. There’s probably just something you’re doing wrong, and I-“

“No,” once again Jake was quick to interrupt her, the word bursting out his mouth out as a snarl, before she could finish the sentence.

“Amy’s been doing everything perfectly right, and even beyond, so you don’t get to tell her otherwise.”

Silence enveloped the entire kitchen whilst the life of the party buzzed in the background.

Camila stood frozen in the very same spot she’d been caught in for the past few minutes. Here, after what felt like a lifetime, Jake made up his mind and decided that there was nothing else to say. Getting the hell out of there to take care of his wife was of higher priority than waste time, hopelessly and with no gain, trying to talk Camila to her senses.

He turned around to look his wife directly in the eyes, searching for some kind of sign that would tell him that what he’d just done was okay – it was Amy’s mother, after all.

And although tears were still washing down her face Amy also couldn’t help but send him a small affirmative nod. If she hadn’t been too busy crying she’d tell him that, once again, him acting by instinct had paid off.

“I want to go home,” she whispered.

He took another good look at her to make sure that she was okay for now, then quickly replied with a whisper telling her “Of course. Let’s go,” before leading her away and out of the house by the hand. Once he’d gotten her settled in the car Jake ran back to grab their coats, in the meantime also coming up with an excuse to Tony and Elena about Amy being sick thus having to leave. Jake was unsure of whether or not either hosts had overheard the fight but nonetheless they both nodded understandingly, thanking Jake and Amy for the gift and for coming.

So yes, the baby shower had been okay until it hadn’t been.

***

In contrast to the ride to the party, the ride back home was very quiet with minimal to no words spoken. Amy knew she could speak up, if she wished to, but then the act of staring out the window, watching the city grow thicker and thicker by the mile, simply seemed more manageable. Once in a while Jake would throw a glance in her direction to make sure she was somewhat okay while also keeping in mind that the urge to get home and hold her didn’t cause him to drive irresponsibly.

Immediately upon arriving back home, the minute the door closed behind them trapping them in their own little cocoon, Amy carelessly, and very unusually, Jake couldn’t help but notice, kicked of her shoe before heading in the direction of their bedroom. Although Jake was fast, managing to grab her wrist before tugging her back to wrap her up in his arms. This, hopefully, would prompt her to react however she needed to.

And indeed, the moment she was tugged into him and her face could hide from the world in the crook beneath his neck, she did. The heaving movement of her shoulders came first, then the muffled sobs.

Jake, knowing that the silence on the way back home was both of them fighting a war within themselves with only a of question of not if but when they’d burst at the seams, could only hold her as tight as physically possible whilst rocking her back and forth as his own eyes started to prick.

During his life time Jake Peralta had undergone many kinds of pain: anything from, compared to this moment, that is, stupid bagatelles like watching the woman he was pining for be with someone else to being wrongfully accused and sent to prison, where he lived a daily life in a constant state a fear. Nonetheless it was still crystal clear that nothing, not by a longshot, had ever been able to tear him to shreds like seeing his wife suffer from something so out of his, or anyone’s, control.

“I wish I could take your pain away,” he mumbled into the top of her head, his voice tearful and heavy from despair.

Another sob, this time smaller, escaped her body before the next sound he could hear was her taking a deep breath.

“I know,” she sniffled as her shoulder rose in fighting another incoming cry in the meantime also allowing her lungs to stock up on just enough fresh air. Then silence. The quietness, the silence after the storm, that came after felt post-apocalyptic, when in reality they were in the eye of the hurricane: in the clear but surrounded by chaos.

But perhaps that was good enough for now.

“…And I yours, Jake. God, I wished.”

“I know,” he smiled, through tears, into her hair before burying his face in it. Nothing felt safer than her – even during her darkest hours. In the end he felt reassured as long as she was there by his side and he by hers.

“But one day at a time,” he sniffled peaking tears away. “Okay?”

He felt her untuck from his neck, her safe spot, in order to look at him properly for the first time since they left Tony’s house. As expected her eyes were bloodshot, exhausted and red, although there was also a tiny twitch, something hinting at a smile, of the corner of her lips that implicitly accepted Jake’s statement.

“Okay,” she nodded.

“I love you, Ames,” he tipped his head down evening out their height difference in order to press his forehead to hears. “And I’m so stupidly in love with you.”

Finally, this was what it took, a full smile broke out on her lips; a smile which Jake Peralta wasted no second reciprocating. It didn’t matter that the affectionate chuckle sliding off her lips was half-teary from the intense crying nor that her cheeks were still very much damp and puffy; Amy Santiago was wholeheartedly chuckling and this Jake Peralta had been dying to witness.

“And I know things aren’t turning out how we had hoped, at least not right now, but…” His fingers calmly, almost unconsciously, slid down to stroke her waist, his forehead still leaning against hers.

“… I’m never going to stop loving or being in love with you, Amy Santiago, so there’s no need to worry. We’ve got time… Time to hurt, time to laugh, time to fall down and then get back up again. It doesn’t feel like it now, which is so very okay… ” he pulled back to look right into her eyes, making sure to emphasize his point, “… But in the end, we’re going to be the ones in control of our lives: Not biology, not your mom, not anyone or anything else. If we want a child then that’s what we’ll have - one way or the other, I promise you.”

Tears were once more forming in her eyes although this time, to his relief, it appeared to be tears of joy rather than sadness. Being sad suddenly seemed so distant, so irrelevant, when she had a husband who loved her that much.

“And, like I said and will continue to say for as long as you need to hear it: we don’t have to think about a final solution now.”

On one hand she wanted to say something, express and return the incredible amount of love he always provided, yet, on the other hand, the need to grab his face and pull him into the deepest kiss possible was stronger. This, by all means, resulted in Amy doing exactly so. Of course Jake responded to the gesture so naturally thus allowing his hands to freely roam her entire body, up, down and around. There was no stopping them. He loved her and she loved him. This she’d whisper, whimper, whine and moan into his ear, neck, lips and chest, multiple times in the course of the day’s final hours as they stumbled across the floor, through the doors of their apartment without a single care about the outside world.

That night, intertwined, showering each other with love and chasing away the remnants of despair, nothing else seemed of great, grave nor grievous importance. Maybe, yes, the hurting wasn’t entirely behind them yet, but even so, something about hurting for love and the life they wanted to build together seemed to make that fact acceptable. Hurting also meant they were fighting, ultimately meaning that they weren’t giving up.

Hurting was hard, but also important for the process, and doing it together, thankfully, did the difference between unbearable and acceptable.

Life was unpredictable, not everything was in their control, but, as long as they were with the right people, they could handle anything. And they were, since the very first day, stuck across from each other as bickering partners at the Nine-Nine, the right people for each other.

#peraltiago #peraltiago fanfiction #Jake and Amy #jake x amy #Brooklyn Nine-Nine #b99 #fanfiction #oneshot #angst #trying #baby peraltiago

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thejollyroger-writer · 5 years ago

Text

Falling Paws Over Heels

SUMMARY: Captain Killian Jones -- the notorious Captain Hook -- has heard all kinds of stories during his travels around all of the realms. But the story that has always interested him the most is that of the enchanting sorceress of Storybrooke, a small town in the Enchanted Forest's Misthaven, the sorceress who takes men to her bed, but will only give her heart to the man who befriends her cat. Will Killian be the one who finally has what it takes?

a/n: I fought with this story, fought with myself over this story, and fought myself with this story -- and it’s finally here. I cannot thank the @cssns discord group for constantly being there to help me (and for G-rated cat-related puns), and some other friends that I’ve made alond the way: @shireness-says @profdanglaisstuff @kmomof4 @snidgetsafan @let-it-raines @teamhook @darkcolinodonorgasm @winterbaby89 @welllpthisishappening @thisonesatellite @resident-of-storybrooke @superchocovian (I really don’t know how to tag people for one-shots so I’m gonna leave it at that) AND to the ALWAYS INCREDIBLE @captainsjedi for her always-perfect artwork and for working with my terrible schedule to figure this sucker out.

6K -- rated G-ish

Also on AO3

----

Everyone knows a few things about Storybrooke. Everyone knows it’s a small town with more magic than anywhere in the world, the place where witches who want to learn more of their craft go to train. As much as they try to deny the rumors, everyone who has visited the small coastal town has witnessed a marvel they could not explain: time stopping, mysterious weather phenomenons, etc.

Those who spend the most time here even claim, in the small hours of the night or when they are snooping in places they don’t belong, to have seen some of the witches and wizards turn into animals — though all the residents deny these rumors more adamantly than any of the others.

But perhaps the best known rumor, the one whispered in dark nights spent in taverns up and down the coast, is about the presence of the beautiful sorceress, the strongest magic-wielder the world has ever seen, that lives on the outskirts of the small town in the coastal realm of Misthaven. The woman that charms all sorts of men, reels them in with her magic like a siren before having her way with them before breaking their hearts. Every man that has crossed her devastating path tells the same story: to win her heart, you must first win the affection of her cat and bring her the key from her collar. But the first step to winning the affection of the beautiful silver-blonde cat is finding her in the first place, since the cat and the woman never seem to be in the same place.

Word got around quickly about this test, and men and women alike would come from all corners of the world to try to win the affection of the mysterious blonde sorceress — by winning the affection of her cat.

Everyone would try all they could to catch the cat, given they could even find her in the first place, thinking this is the first step to befriending her; everything from offering her treats to trying to capture her in intricate traps.

But she is too smart, too clever — too fast — and no one has ever succeeded in winning the heart of the sorceress.

Killian Jones, the most villainous pirate to ever sail the seas, the notorious Captain Hook, has heard enough of these stories, many shared with him over tankards of ale and flasks of rum served on old wooden tables in dark taverns.

And he is bored.

This story, the mysterious, beautiful blonde sorceress and her cat, has been on his mind since the first time he heard it from across the empty bar room, though now seems like the perfect time to try his luck to win the affections of this cat — and of the sorceress — for himself.

How he has managed to avoid the beautiful scenery of Storybrooke is a mystery, one proven even more mysterious as he sails closer to the harbor and takes in the view: a large stone castle sitting on the top of a high, green hill, with rolling hills leading down to the water and bright forests surrounding it.

Captain Jones has seen a lot of sights during his years as a sailor, first in the navy before his turn to piracy, and even Neverland had its moments in the years he spent there, but very few of them compare to Storybrooke.

“What do you think, Captain?” a voice over his shoulder calls out, pulling him out of his own memories, and he turns to find Will Scarlett, both the youngest and newest member of his crew, standing behind him, watching as they approach the docks.

Because Captain Killian Jones is a different man towards his men than the hardened pirate that the stories make him out to be, the small smile spread across his features comes as no surprise to his crew.

“ ‘s just as beautiful as you’ve made it sound, Scarlett,” Killian says, turning his eyes back towards the new view. The second half of his thought goes unsaid, though: even more so if I can find the woman.

They picked the lad up in Wonderland, stranded on a beach in the corner farthest from the City of Hearts, wounded and terrified, but there was a light in his eyes, hidden beneath the depths of the pain on his face, that Killian recognized, that reminded him of his younger years, and he couldn’t bring himself to leave the poor boy where he was.

(If he had known just how much he liked to talk, something that only escalated as soon as he was in the proximity of alcohol, he may have given it a second thought.)

But after Wonderland, the Jolly had no plans, had no next course to which it had to be on its way to after Killian’s meeting with the King. So, when young Scarlett started telling stories of Storybrooke, stories of his home and this same sorceress that he had heard of countless times before, he decided. He was bored, and he needed an adventure that went beyond enacting someone else’s revenge, beyond running an errand for this royal or that monarch — and this sorceress seemed like the perfect plan.

(Especially since, beyond bored, Killian Jones, captain of the Jolly Roger, the world-renowned Captain Hook, is also lonely, missing his family and his first love and searching for something more meaningful than tavern wenches and quick fucks. If this sorceress somehow fills this void, Killian will be the last to complain.)

Even more so once Will points her out to him.

By some stroke of luck, whether it be the gods or the goddess herself, she is walking by the docks as he leads his crew towards the town, wearing a simple white dress that flows perfectly behind her as if she controls the soft breeze that comes off the harbor — which she just might do, if all the stories about her are true.

Even if they aren’t, he’s fairly sure that she is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, with soft golden curls that almost seem to radiate light, and her features only become more strikingly perfect as he approaches her.

She is walking slowly between the merchants set up in the marketplace, turning her attention between the stands on either side of her, a light wicker basket slung over one arm while she holds a shining red apple to her nose with the opposite hand before a bright, warm smile spreads across her face.

Killian really doesn’t mean to run into her. She takes a step to one side to avoid running into the person in front of her, and he is too enamored by her to move quickly enough out of her way to pass her, as he meant to do. But, instead, he runs right into her, catching her arm with his hand as they collide.

He has his apology in his throat, his hook caught on the handle of her basket, but as soon as his eyes meet hers, he can feel the blush creeping up his cheeks, and he loses all ability to speak.

Captain Hook, the most fearsome, most sinister— and, perhaps most importantly, most handsome — pirate to ever sail the seas, finds himself tongue-tied by a pair of bright green eyes, shining so perfectly in the sunlight that he swears they may be cut from an unblemished piece of emerald.

“My apologies, sir,” she says, her voice like music to his ears, the sound of it causing his heart to beat wildly in his chest, though perhaps that is her mere presence. “I don’t believe that I’ve seen you around here before, have I?”

Thankfully, he swallows the lump that has formed in his throat, fighting back the urge to scratch the spot behind his ear that his hand finds when he’s nervous, and flashes her his best smile.

“No, love, you haven’t,” he drawls, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible — though if the smile on her face is as knowing as he has a feeling it might be, it may have been all for naught. “We just docked in the harbor earlier today.”

“And what brings you to Storybrooke?”

“A man hears so many stories when he spends as much time travelling as I do,” he says softly, only now realizing that his hand his still wrapped around her forearm, and he loosens his grip, not releasing her completely — though she could very easily remove herself from his grasp if that was what she desires. “He can only hear the same stories so many times before he has to come investigate on his own.”

A knowing flash crosses her face, almost too quickly for him to notice before it disappears. “What sorts of stories?”

Either he has gone completely mad, or she is flirting with him, swaying further into his space in the middle of the busy market as she looks up at him through her eyelashes.

What harm can come from playing along? he asks himself, slowly moving his hand further up her arm until he reaches her bicep, taking the smallest of steps towards her.

“Oh, you know,” he says, trying to stay as nonchalant as possible, though he fears the wild pounding of his heart in his chest will give him away. “Witches, magic. Women who use their charms to lure innocent men to their beds.”

This time, her knowing smile is paired with a sinister glint in her eye, and she presses her hand against his chest, leaning even closer to him, close enough that he believes for a moment that she is about to press her lips against his.

She does not; instead, she whispers, “I have found there is no such thing as an innocent man, Captain Jones,” before quickly moving out of his grasp and away from him, disappearing through the crowd of people.

By the time his mind catches up with what she has just said, he quickly turns on his heel to try to find her in the crowd, but she is gone.

Four days pass without Killian so much as seeing her — though not for his lack of trying. He spends his free time in the taverns, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, or overhear one of the many stories he is sure Storybrooke residents have to share, but he fails on both counts.

During the busiest times of day, he finds a seat on one of the benches along the marketplace, slowly working his way through the small piles of fruit, nuts, and dried meats that he purchases from various vendors, hoping that she will come back to the place they met, but she does not.

He does, however, see many things that he knows he would not find in other towns: firedancers, who can not only control their flames, but who can conjure them in the palm of their hand; piles of fruit enchanted to never go bad (though, when he acquires, the farmers simply insist it is due to the soil in Storybrooke, which is unlike any other soil in the world); “magic” pendants that hold promises to keep a loved one safe, to cure a disease, to ensure good business. While he has seen some trinkets like these during his journeys, there is something about these in particular, something about the air in Storybrooke and the very real way that people believe these promises here when he knows they would just be a hoax in other towns, that makes him want to believe in the magic, as well.

Young Will Scarlett certainly does, his stories of home filled with fairies and wood nymphs and forests that grant wishes — and a powerful sorceress and her cat.

At first, Killian thinks nothing of the growing number of cats that he begins to see around the Jolly while it is still docked, beyond the regular three that he has kept on board. Everyone knows that ships are the perfect breeding ground for mice, which, of course, includes the cats themselves. He makes sure to tell the cook to leave out some snacks so that they don’t have to hunt as much and some fresh milk, make sure that they know they are welcomed on his ship. But it is the one that keeps finding its way into his private cabin that catches his attention the most, with a silver-blonde coat and bright green eyes, eyes that seem to follow him through the room from the corner where she — Killian has a gut feeling it is a female, though he finds himself unable to explain it when his first mate asks — always seems to be sitting.

Killian has a lot of experience with cats, perhaps more than any of the other members of the crew. He assumes that he is the only one with the exact experience he has, the only one who spent his childhood checking the ship cats for fleas, making sure they had enough food and were healthy, and has always been around them, since he has always been on ships. And he knows how to befriend the cats, a lesson that he learned the hard way more times than he can count, and though most of the scars from the scratches have since healed, the memory of them has not — especially since it took most of his adolescent years to get over his fear of the felines.

But this one — the one who either sits in the corner and grooms herself as she watches his every move or is nowhere to be found — is different somehow. He’s known cats to be attentive, to be watching him sometimes, to turn their attention towards him when he moves, but this is the first cat he has ever known that just… watches him. Every time he looks up from his desk, her bright green eyes are focused on him.

It takes three days for him to speak to her the first time, when he finds himself struggling with some of the numbers from the ship’s books. This is one of the many times that he’s cursed himself for choosing to be his own accountant instead of hiring someone to do it, as many other captains choose to do.

He’s never been like other captains.

But that hasn’t stopped him from all the hard work that comes from keeping his own books.

“Bloody hell, why can’t I figure this out?” he mumbles, then lifts his flask to his lips. His rum is warm, almost too sweet after spending the day in the pocket of his duster, but it’s the only option he has to still the pain from the voices in his head — and hopefully straighten them out enough to help with his arithmetic.

That’s when she mews from across the room, the sound does not immediately register. It’s a sound he has not heard for a very long time, that of a cat that wants attention, that has something to say, since most ship cats just learn to mind their own business, catch rodents, and sleep on the warm wooden deck.

“Do you have an idea?” he asks, half-joking, but is amazed when she saunders across the room and carefully perches herself atop his desk, minding the placement of her paws so as to not step near the bottles of ink or liquor sprawled across the surface. She takes a moment, almost as if she were looking over the numbers in the book, before setting her small paw atop one of the columns and meowing again, then jumps back to the floor.

Amazed, Killian focuses his attention on that column in particular, and it only takes him a few moments to find the mistake that had eluded him, and once he fixes it, all of the issues he’s been having are fixed, as well. He turns his eyes back to the room, hoping to find the cat to thank her, but she is not in her usual corner; instead, she is nowhere to be found.

“Thank you,” he mumbles under his breath anyway.

He sees her again the next morning. The blonde, not the cat. He is in the tavern, minding his own business in the corner while his crew are enjoying some time with the locals. He almost doesn’t see her walk in, besides the fact that her presence seems to pull his attention away from the pages in front of him. She’s dressed much differently than the first time he saw her, in a simple dark red dress with a striped skirt, leaving none of her curves to the imagination. He pulls himself back together at the same moment she turns to face him, snapping his jaw shut.

“Can I ask you a question, Captain?” she asks, sliding onto the bench beside him, straddling the bench so she is facing him.

“Yes, darling?” he hums, watching, eyes wide, as she takes the bottle of rum in front of him, pouring some into the glass, and downing it all in one quick gulp.

“Tell me,” she breathes, leaning closer to him as she reaches out to wrap her slender fingers around the curve of the appendage. “How you got the hook. You hear so many stories.”

He smiles, his breath hitched in his throat, along with his heart. “It seems,” he starts, inching slightly closer to her on the bench, “As if you know who I am, while I have still yet to learn your name.”

The smile spread across her face grows, and she moves another inch towards him, her knee almost pressed against the outside of his leg. “Emma Swan,” she says, her voice as melodic as a soft spring breeze whispering through the trees.

“Miss Swan,” he says, reaching across his body to take her hand in his, pulling it up to his lips to press a soft kiss against her knuckles. “The pleasure is all mine.”

She hums, taking another quick drink from the bottle. “I sure hope that’s not the case, Captain Jones.”

He’s honestly not sure how it happens: one moment, he is sharing a bottle of rum with her in the tavern, telling her of the demon that stole his hand and his love from him, the man who he defeated in order to escape from Neverland; and the next moment, he has her pressed against the cool brick of the side of the building, sliding his lips over hers. He does not realize that they have even left the table until he grinds against her, covering as much of her body with his as he can.

“What do you want, Captain?” she asks, trying to cover the groan that rises to her throat when he presses his lips against the curve of her throat.

Killian, he wants to tell her, wants to beg her to be the first person to use his real name since he lost Milah, but it’s almost as if his lips can do nothing but kiss her, nothing but suck gently on her pulse point as his hand wraps around the swell of her breast, mostly covered by her dress. Instead, he manages, “Anything the lady desires,” brushing the soft skin of the exposed tops of her breasts with the short stubble that covers his skin before retracing the path with his lips.

They are not the last words shared that night, but somewhere between the exterior wall of the tavern and his cabin on the Jolly Roger, she turns the lead over to him, and he leads her to the sweet release she desires twice before finding his own within her. Sweat-covered and sated, they fall asleep as a tangled pile of limbs, his body curled almost possessively around hers as the ship sways softly on the waters of the harbor.

When he awakes the next morning, he is alone in his bed. The first thing he feels is cold, a feeling he has not noticed for years — cold and alone.

And then he hears it, a soft, almost silent meow from across the room. The cat is sitting in her corner, as if she is waiting for him to wake. As soon as he meets her gaze, though, she turns away from him and disappears through whatever hole between his cabin and the hall she has been using. He’s thought multiple times over the last few days of looking into her secret passageways, of figuring out how she’s been getting in and out, but he’s realized since that, ridding the ship of these passageways would also mean ridding the cat of her access to his room.

“Swan,” he whispers, almost groans, still calling her by her surname, as he drops his head back to the pillows, though he can almost swear that he hears the cat respond with another soft meow before he falls back asleep.

“Scarlett!” he calls out to his crew from his position at the helm, unable to find the lad among the men currently helping with repairs on the main deck. He has a few questions for him, wants to know more about this challenge and exactly what he needs to do with this cat in order to win the heart of the blonde — to win the heart of Emma Swan. She has been at the forefront of his mind since the night they spent together, and on his mind for much longer than that, but in the two weeks since he woke alone in his bed, every meeting between them has been public: shared meals at the tavern, meetings in the marketplace.

Though, perhaps on his mind more than the sorceress herself, is the cat who he has started to see around his ship even more than before. It wasn’t until the morning cat was there and she was not that he began to believe that this cat, the one whose fur is the equivalent of her blonde curls, who somehow has the same perfect emerald eyes as she does, is the cat, the one he must befriend in order to prove himself worthy of her.

But he knows there is something else, knows that there is a second part of this tale that he has somehow forgotten about while becoming enamored by her.

He has the lad’s name on the tip of his tongue, ready to call out to him again, when he hears the creak of the metal grate that leads down to the main cabins, and Scarlett’s head comes peeking out from below.

“Yes, Captain Jones?” he asks, already pulling himself up from belowdecks, so Killian simply waves for him to join him on the top deck.

“Tell me again about the cat,” he says once Will is standing beside him, and the confusion that paints his face shows Killian that this is the absolute last thing Scarlett expected him to ask.

“The sorceress’ cat?” he asks, trying to make sure that he has understood his captain’s question, and Killian nods.

“Aye.”

“She, uh, carries a key around her neck, on her collar. The sorceress herself wears a matching one on a necklace, so she would know if you tried to make a fake instead of using the real one. You have to get the key off the collar and take it to the sorceress.”

Killian nods again, his eyes set far beyond the horizon, and he must focus on the rise and fall of the waves to not allow himself to be overtaken by memories of the night they spent together. “The key,” he says after a moment, and though it is not a question, Will still nods. “Thank you, Scarlett. You may return to whatever you were doing.”

But Will doesn’t move away from him, silent beside him for a few moments. Killian is about ready to question him when he finally speaks:

“You’ve seen her, haven’t you?”

“You know I’ve met the sorceress, Scarlett, you were there for many of those times.”

“Not the sorceress, sir. The cat.”

Killian hasn’t told any of his crew about the new regular guest he has in his cabin, though he has had a few conversations about the cats’ presence on the ship. He’s not sure whether he wants to tell Scarlett about her, but something in his eyes makes Killian suddenly want to tell him all of it.

So, he nods. “Yes. I have — I’ve seen her around, the silver cat with the key around her neck. She’s, uh, been in my cabin a few times.”

A huge grin breaks out across his face. “Captain! Her cat only comes around for men that she likes. If she’s been spending time in your cabin, that means that she probably wants to see more of you.”

He knows that Will probably means the nights they spend together in the tavern, when they find one another in the marketplace, but his mind immediately moves to the night they spent together in his cabin, and how much he wishes he could be with her again.

When he says nothing else, Will just nods, quickly saluting his captain — how he wishes his men would not do that, though he could never being himself to ask — and he’s gone.

He’s seen the key. Not to the point where he has really taken a good look at it, but he’s seen it, noticed it just two nights before when the cat was curled on the corner of his desk. It’s not very large, maybe an inch total, and fairly thick. He wonders what it opens, and if that holds the secret to winning the hand of the woman he has been so taken by recently. The cat almost let him pet her that night in particular, rubbed up against his legs while he was sitting at his desk before she disappeared into the woodwork once more. That has to be a sign.

And, as much as he wants to win Emma’s heart, wants to ability to get to know her better, to spend more nights with her, he is nothing if not patient — two hundred years in Neverland taught him that. If patience is what the cat needs, is what Emma needs, then he shall give it.

She finds him at the tavern again that night, in a simple white dress with a tan corset, and there is something in her eyes that he did not notice before, a look that he has seen almost too many times in his extended lifetime, and a look that he would probably recognize anywhere: a need for adventure. He has seen in each of his crew members, in the Lost Boys of Neverland once they realized they did not have to be stuck on that godforsaken island — and he remembers seeing it in the eyes of his brother one too many times, wishing that he would not have sought that last adventure, the one that separated them for good.

“Tell me stories of the sea,” she says, almost pleading with him, as she sits across the table from him. He misses the first time they met here, when she got as close to him as she could, but he likes this just as much — spending time with her, getting to know her, learning what she wants out of life.

“What of the sea do you desire to know? I’ve spent my whole life on it, could spend every breath I have telling you of its marvels and its wonders, and still would not have scratched the surface.”

But this does not lessen her excitement. “Tell me what it is like to be out there, to know that you could go anywhere, do anything, without rules or anything tying you down.”

This is not quite the answer he expected, and it almost catches him off-guard, though only for a moment. “Why, Miss Swan,” he answers, leaning back on the bench as he crosses his arms over his chest. “To me, that sounds like you’re interested in a life of piracy. The sea is not what rids life of rules, I can assure you that as a man who did his due diligence in the Royal Navy.”

She presses her lips into a thin line, leaning closer to him with her arms on the table. “Perhaps,” is all she says.

Killian smiles. “Forgive me for asking, but why can’t a powerful sorceress like you have the life you desire? Can’t you go anywhere you want, live out your dreams?”

She is silent for a moment, her eyes cast down on the table between them. Killian is afraid that he has said something out of line, has insulted her, but when she turns her eyes back up to his, they have not lost their brightness. “You are the first man I have ever met who does not fear me,” she says, her voice soft, but her eyes do not leave his. “I have all the magic in all the realms at my fingertips, can control the wind and the waves and bend them to my will, but every time I have asked for the opportunity to experience the sea for myself, the captain has laughed in my face. I’ve been called every form of bad luck the imaginations of sailors can conjure, and have yet to find someone brave enough to allow a woman that could just as easily save them as she could destroy them on their ship. People come from all around to try to win my heart, but they have to see me beyond just a prize to be won to be worthy of it in the first place.” She stops for just as long as it takes him to take a complete breath. “Now, if you will, Captain Jones, I would like to hear your best story of the sea.”

For the first time in his life, he recalls the story of his brother’s first day as Captain, the proudest he has ever been in his life. The sea was calm, perfect, as if welcoming Liam into his new position, and they sailed into the kingdom of Arendelle just in time to watch a storm brew over the water. It was still, to this day, almost three hundred years later, both one of the most beautiful and terrifying sights he has ever seen.

After he finishes his story, Emma thanks him, leaving him alone with his own mind even after he pleads with her to stay. “I think you know what you have to do, Captain Jones,” he says, as cryptic as ever, before turning away from him and leaving the tavern without another word.

He thinks about what she said to him for the rest of the night as he finishes the bottle of rum by himself, as he makes his way back to his ship, and as he drifts off to sleep. He dreams of her, both of taking his time and pleasuring her every way he knows how, and of sailing away from Storybrooke with her by his side, of taking her on adventures and showing her the most beautiful parts of all of the realms, just as she deserves someone to.

And, as he wakes with a jolt to a loud crack of thunder and a bright flash of lightning out the windows of his cabin, he realizes what the last thing she said was supposed to mean.

The cat.

He's awake in an instant, his eyes frantically searching the dark corners of his cabin for her bright green eyes. When all he finds are shadows, none of them cast by a slender silver-blonde cat.

For what feels like the first time in his life, the rocking of the waves in the brewing storm does not lull him to sleep; instead, every movement of the ship, every moving shadow from the flashes of lightning outside his cabin, draw him back to consciousness, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

When sleep does finally pull him back, his dreams are much weirder, of townspeople transforming into animals, of dark forests and magic, and this time, when he wakes, he is glad the dream has ended.

He does not see the cat until later that afternoon, but he really does not blame her — the rain is unwavering, falling from the sky in sheets that seem to seep into the deepest parts of you. By the time he does see her, the sun has started peeking through the dissipating clouds, and though the ground is riddled with deep puddles, the rain itself seems to be done. He does not notice her in his cabin at first, too focused on pulling his soaked shirt over his head, and he hangs it from the hook inside his door before he senses another presence in the room. Searching her normal places first, the corner and her spot on his desk, he finds them empty, but when he begins to search the rest of the room, he notices that she is somewhere he did not expect: lounging atop the neatly-folded pile of blankets at the foot of his bed.

"Well, hello there, sweet girl," he purrs, moving to sit on the bed beside her, though he does not immediately reach out to pet her.

She mews at him, soft and sweet, and he can't help but smile at her. Slowly, he reaches out his hand towards her, but lets her move into the last of the space that he leaves for her.

She does, leaning her head forward until he can feel the silver fur between her ears against his fingers. It is soft, almost impossibly so — much softer than he remembers the matted fur of the ship cats of his childhood. He trails his fingers down her back, though her fur never loses its softness. Beneath his hand, she begins to purr, the vibration humming through him, and he carefully adjusts his position on the bed, moving closer to the back wall to hold him up.

"You're such a pretty girl," he whispers, scratching behind her ears, and she turns her bright eyes up towards him.

That’s when he notices it: the small brass key hanging from her black velvet collar around her neck, almost completely lost in the thick fur around it. He doesn’t reach for it right away, not wanting to startle her away with his quick movements, so instead, he slowly works his fingers through the fur around her head. Scratching behind her ears, around her neck, and down onto her chin, before carefully taking the small key between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Can I have this, love?” he asks, then realizes that he has started holding his breath, waiting for her answer.

Softly, she chirps at him, rubbing her chin against his fingers, which are still grasping the key, before she begins purring.

Well, he thinks, that’s an answer if there ever was one.

Even more so when he tugs gently at the to slide it away from her neck, and she turns her eyes towards him again. He can almost swear that she is smiling at him — which he knows is bloody impossible, he knows, but he also knows what he just saw, and he would swear all the treasures in all the world that she —

Bloody hell.

If he thought the silver cat smiling at him was impossible, it’s nothing compared to the shock that paralyzes him where he is sitting as that very same cat changes in a small cloud of smoke.

Changes, in a small cloud of light grey smoke, into a woman

No. Not just into any woman. Into her.

Into Emma Swan, sitting beside him on the bed in his cabin, wearing the same flowing white dress that she had on when they met for the first time.

“Emma,” he breathes, her name almost a question on his lips.

The brilliant smile that lights up her features makes him question even more if this is real, or if he has somehow fallen asleep while petting the cat. “Hello, Killian.”

The warmth of her hand against his knee doesn’t quite answer his question, but when she reaches across him to press her other hand against his cheek, pulling her lips to meet his, he has never wished to not be dreaming so much in his life, especially as the echo of his name — his real name — rings in his ears.

It takes him a moment to regain his composure after she backs away from him, but once he is able to breathe again, he is completely unable to stop the smile that spreads across his face. “That was, uh, not quite what I was expecting, love.”

Emma laughs, a soft, twinkling sound that Killian feels all the way down to the center of his soul. “Believe it or not,” she says, lowering her eyes to where her hand is still resting on his knee for just a moment. “It’s a little frowned upon to go around telling people that Storybrooke is full of therianthropic magic-wielders.”

“Or that the cat you tell people they have to befriend is actually just you,” he jokes, resting his hand on top of hers.

Pulling her lip up between her teeth, she shakes her head, threading her fingers through his. “Yes, of course,” she mumbles, “That, too.”

“So, it’s been you the whole time?”

“What do you mean, Killian?” she asks, but the smile that she fails to hide tells him that she knows exactly what he means.

“All those nights you spent here, lounging on my desk, curled up on my bed while I worked — all while we could have been having much more fun than that.” He waggles his eyebrows, inching closer to her on the bed, though she does not let him finish, pushing him back into the mattress so she can cover his body with her own.

“Well,” she mumbles, her lips never quite leaving his. “I suppose we have to make up for a few of those.”

She pulls his lip between her teeth, laughing softly as he wraps his arms around her. The kiss they share is unlike any other he has experienced, a kiss that not only promises making up for lost time, but also more than that — promises something Killian ever thought he would have again: a future.

#cssns #captain swan #captain swan supernatural summer #cs ff #cs fics #captain swan fics #enchanted forest au #magic au #shapeshifters #(Though technically that's a spoiler)#its not quite as good as I wanted it to be #and i should have given myself more time #but mental health is no joke folks #and maybe one day soon I'll actually finish the statue one

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000609 · 6 years ago

Text

50 Miles Later

Pairing: Hyunjin x female!reader ‹‹ ft. Jisung & Felix ›› Genre: Fluff & Horror (very light though) Words: 6k Warnings: Swearing

The person who thought it would be a good idea to visit the abandoned, presumably haunted hospital outside your town really didn’t consider the possibility of actually waking up something paranormal. On the bright side, at least you get to run for your life together with your crush.

The night was growing darker and you were growing colder.

You had waited in the parking lot for what felt like forever. If you knew your company would be so extremely late, you would’ve considered changing out of your school uniform. The skirt did nothing to keep you warm and the tie, even though you had already loosened it, still felt like it was going to choke you.

If they had forgotten that you were supposed to meet and left you here alone, you swore you would strangle them all with your bare hands. You hated people who had no respect for time, especially if it meant you were the one who was kept waiting.

You looked at your phone for the hundredth time even though you knew already that there would be no signal this time either. Just a few minutes earlier you had climbed up on the roof of your car, looking like an absolute buffoon as you raised your phone towards the darkened sky to try and get reception. It had not worked, obviously, and when you thought you had heard a car come you had climbed down so fast that you almost fell face first onto the cracked asphalt of the parking lot. However, no car had come and you swore you were gonna avenge every single one of the three boys who was keeping you waiting. Well, avenge all of them except… maybe one.

You didn’t really know why you had agreed to wait for them on an empty parking lot right by the edge of where the thick forest surrounding your town began. Maybe it was because they had convinced you that it would be fun to pass time by driving there after you picked up some stuff at home and while they did whatever errand they prioritized to be done right before you guys met up. However, you were regretting it and you wondered if there was any way you could make them wait in the middle of nowhere while you did whatever it was that they were doing at that moment. Probably something stupid.

You were fiddling with your flashlight, repeatedly turning it on and off in annoyance, when you finally saw a car turn in to the parking lot. The headlights swept over the forest, drenching it in light before they turned towards you, completely blending you. You put a hand up to cover your eyes as you started to walk towards the car that was slowly coming to a stop.

The engine suddenly cut off leaving the parking lot for a short moment quiet and pitch-black, before the car doors opened and three teenage boys spilled out while talking rapidly.

Your friendship with Jisung, Felix and Hyunjin were rather weird in the sense that you could under no circumstances recollect a single memory of when you three first became friends. In your mind, they had always just been there right beside you. The earliest memory you did have of your three friends were moments as small children where you often got a front seat at the playground having to watch two of them eat sand.

You loved them all. However, this time was different. Not only had they kept you waiting, but when you also saw the half-eaten cookie in Jisung’s hand, you truly had to hold yourself back as to not throw your flashlight right at his forehead. You angrily put your hands on your hips and tapped impatiently with your foot, you felt like an angry toddler but it was the only way you could hold yourself back.

”You guys left me out here alone,” at the sound of your voice the three boys turned towards you, almost as if they were surprised to find you standing in an empty parking lot in the middle of nowhere. ”Do you know how big the chances are for me to get kidnapped out here wearing this,” you said as you gestured towards your school uniform. Though you realized quickly that your argument fell pretty flat seeing as the three boys were also still wearing their uniforms.

”Well if I remember correctly you have pepper spray in that car of yours. Do you know why I remember?” Jisung said as the three boys came to a halt in front of you. ”Because my eyes still burn after you attacked me with it.”

You had to bite your tongue as to not laugh at the memory of Jisung scaring you only for you to - without knowing that it was him, of course - completely drench him in the spray. ”And right now I’m considering spraying you with it again,” you said, glaring at Felix as you heard him snicker. ”Why were you guys late?”

”Sorry, Jisung had to change the batteries in his flashlight,” Felix said as Jisung held up said item in his hand.

You raised an eyebrow as you looked at the flashlight. ”Then what the hell is the cookie for?”

”Provision Y/N,” Jisung said like it was obvious.

You just sighed as you dropped your hands from your hips, looking over your shoulder at your car as you felt your anger turn in to excitement for the plans that lay ahead. Slowly you turned away from the boys and started to make your way towards the said vehicle. ”Well did you at least bring a cookie for me?” You asked as Jisung and Felix walked past you towards the car.

”Sorry-” you don’t know why you got startled when Hyunjin walked up beside you, speaking for the first time that night. He looked at you sympathetically as he carefully grabbed your arm. Even though there were several layers of clothing between his hand and your bare arm, you still found yourself shivering. If you hadn’t forgiven Hyunjin even before he had shown up, you sure had forgiven him now. ”I didn’t get one either if that makes you feel better.”

You sighed as you handed Hyunjin your car-keys, not really in the mood for driving around in an unfamiliar forest. ”I’ll forgive you if you really take out the turns and make Jisung choke on that stupid cookie.” Hyunjin only laughed as he got into the driver seat and you got in the back after finding Felix already comfortably seated in the passenger seat.

Tonight was going to be a long night, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little bit excited.

The acoustic guitar music Felix had insisted on having on did nothing to help ease your nerves as you looked out the window at the dark forest quickly passing by outside it.

It wasn’t the first time you were wondering why in the world you always kept agreeing to join the three boys on their crazy missions to seek adrenaline kicks that would keep them in check for maybe a week or two before they went out again.

It was around one year ago now that the boys had first shared their curiosity with you. Back then it was only one innocent mission that they had in mind; to prove that the rumor about the old man that supposedly lived in the old, worn down shed deep in the forest was false. You had then only agreed to join them since you thought that there was absolutely no way that it was indeed real and so for you that was only going to be a pleasant outing to the woods. However, none of you had expected to actually find a man sleeping in the shed, let alone run away from there in zigzags as said man pointed a rifle at you.

The adrenaline had completely taken over all of your bodies, leaving you mostly tired but the other boys wide-eyed and craving more. That was the start of late nights in Jisung’s room, circling with red on a map of your town with places you wanted to go next, borrowing books from your library about old hoaxes and tales that you could all explore the true layers of.

You were however not as engaged as the other boys, the angry mans’ shouts still echoing in your head. When the boys had eagerly told you about where they wanted to go next you had been very hesitant, not really craving the adrenaline as much as the others.

However, this was also the time that sort of blurred together in your mind because of a certain someone. It was the time where you’d find yourself noticing all the small details about Hyunjin, details you hadn’t noticed about anyone else. It was the time where you’d relish the moments that you’d make him laugh, the time where you’d lay awake at night wondering if Hyunjin had looked at you a little longer than usual or if that was simply a fragment of your own imagination.

Now you looked over at Hyunjin’s face in the rearview mirror, his eyes concentrated on the road as his fingers tapped along to the guitar strumming filling the car. It was embarrassing to admit how easily persuaded you were as long as he was in the picture.

As you had joined on more and more of their adventures you had come to actually enjoy it all. You loved the mystery of arriving at a new unfamiliar place, always feeling a mixture of fear and excitement as you with flashlights went around to discover, never knowing what you’d find next. But as the car now started to slow down and as you thought of the pliers and the crowbar in the trunk behind you, you thought that this idea might be the craziest of them all. This wasn’t old sheds and graveyards, this was on a whole other scale compared to your last adventures.

When Jisung had told you and the others about the abandoned and presumably haunted hospital that laid a forty-minute drive away from you, you had flat out refused. Even Felix and Hyunjin had been wary as Jisung had eagerly told the history of the place.

However, when Jisung later told that other people had gone there as well and as he - with a slightly disappointed look because of the lowered fear factor - showed youtube videos of people walking through the old hospital, you had all agreed on joining him, even after he insisted you went when it was dark.

You were quick to regret your decision to join now though as you saw the big dark building through the car window. As you opened the door and stepped outside, you could tell that the others shared your regret as the building loomed tall over all four of you. No-one said anything as you all just stared at the hospital. It was like a building straight out of a horror movie. Some windows where boarded shut with rotting wood while you could still see some windows with glass, though they all were pretty much broken. The fence surrounding the building still had barbed wire at the top and you wondered what kind of hospital this actually used to be.

You were all still quiet when a crow suddenly flew from one of the pine trees surrounding the parking lot, flying straight at the car and the four of you surrounding it. With a shriek, the loudest one coming from Felix, you all threw yourself towards the ground, your arms coming up around your head as protection. You winced as your bare knees hit the asphalt and for a moment you could only hear your heart beating loudly in your ear as the bird with a loud caw flew up towards the trees again, leaving the parking lot in complete silence.

”Is it gone?” You heard someone say, not really sure who since your blood was still rushing around in your head.

Suddenly you felt something on your back and you thought that the bird had come back to eat you alive. You couldn’t help but shriek again. ”Woah, hey it’s just me,” You peeked up from under your arms only to come face to face with Hyunjin. ”Are you okay?”

You barely noticed his hand stroking your back as you sat up straight on your knees while releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Jisung had already gotten up and was rummaging around your trunk for the supplies you had brought, while Felix was brushing off his pants from dirt. You looked over at Hyunjin and gave him a weak smile. ”Fucking birds man.”

”Fucking birds.” He agreed as he grabbed your hand and helped you up to your feet.

”Do you really think this is a good idea?” You said, trying to ignore the fact that Hyunjin was still holding your hand even though you were standing up just fine on your own.

Hyunjin looked over at Jisung who was handing some pliers to Felix while he was talking excitedly, his mouth moving fast. ”When has a good idea ever come out of Jisung’s mouth?”

You just sighed as Jisung, seeming to have found everything he needed, closed the trunk and with Felix on his side made their way towards the two of you. It was quick, but you still saw the way Felix glanced down at yours and Hyunjins still intertwined hands. Hyunjin must’ve seen it too because he quickly let go of it.

”So, did everyone bring a flashlight?” Hyunjin asked as the four of you raised your respective said items into the air. ”Great! Did everyone bring a good mood?”

Felix sighed. ”Stop it, let’s just get this over with.”

”Well I take that as a no, let’s hope the spirits take Felix first then. Otherwise, I guess we’re all ready to go. Jisung,” Hyunjin motioned towards the dark building. ”Care to lead the way?”

You don’t know how you ended up being the one at the front as you with your flashlight shone at the graffiti-covered walls of the corridor you were walking in. The boys were trailing behind you, Jisung and Felix talking about something that did not have anything at all to do with the building you were currently in. You didn’t know if it was fear that made them talk to distract themselves, or if it was simply them being unimpressed and just passing time. By the way Jisung had screamed when you guys first entered the building with him in the lead, after he tripped over what he insisted was a rat but you think was only air, you figured that it was probably the former that kept him talking. He had maintained a steady place in the middle of the group after that, leaving you, who had realized quickly that this place wasn’t that scary and that the pliers were totally unnecessary since people had rummaged this building before, at the front with Hyunjin close behind you.

”I just think you’re being a little dramatic about it, that is all.” You had no idea what they were quarreling about this time. By this point in your friendship you were extremely used to the bickering of the two boys at the back and so tuning out was easy.

Hyunjin walked past you as you stopped shortly to examine what you thought was a syringe but only turned out to be a stick. You rolled your eyes as the two boys stopped shortly behind you, before continuing on as you started walking again. ”Why are you calling me dramatic? I just normally don’t ruin things like that.” Jisung said.

”Yeah well, you are the one who ruined my mother’s favorite ramekins with burnt soy.” You threw a curious look over your shoulder at the boys, wondering what could have possibly led up to this conversation. You had to bite your tongue as to not laugh at the irritated expression both of them wore.

”Oh my god, I was just trying to make a nice meal!” Jisung said a little louder than necessary as he threw both his arms into the air, blending you with his flashlight in the process. ”Besides you were the one who gave me frozen salmon after I specifically asked for a fresh one. Of course, I burnt the soy, because of you it had to be in the oven longer.”

”You cooked salmon in a ramekin?” You asked as you wondered how it looked when one tried to make a salmon fit in a small dish like that. Jisung didn’t answer but you could imagine him glaring at you and you couldn’t suppress the smile as you shone your flashlight at another graffiti-piece.

”Well I suggested pizza but you just had to cook something. You said it would only take twenty minutes but I waited for one hour.”

”Because the salmon was frozen!” At Jisung’s sudden outburst, you swore that you heard something move behind a closed door you just passed. The others must’ve heard it too because in the blink of an eye you were all shining your respective flashlights at the door. You all glanced at each other, but no-one looked very tempted to open the door. Hyunjin made a gesture towards the hall, let’s move on he mouthed as he started walking again.

You turned towards Jisung and Felix who both had lost all color in their face. ”Shut up, both of you.” You whispered before following Hyunjin down the hall.

You were all quiet after that as if the sudden noise had wired your mouths shut with the possibility of there actually being something haunted about this building and not wanting to be discovered by whatever it was. Though the probability of the four of you being quiet was very small and as you moved further down the hallway you couldn’t help but bet on who would be the first on to talk. However, you had not expected it to be Hyunjin.

”Who in the world has a favorite ramekin?”

Felix just sighed and as you looked over your shoulder you saw him give Jisung a pointed look. ”My mom. She says nothing ever burns in it.”

”Well we’ve established that that was clearly wrong,” Hyunjin suddenly stopped and lowered his flashlight as he turned to face his small entourage. ”Now lady-” he said giving you a look that made your heart flutter. ”and gentlemen, we got a left and we got a right ahead of us. Do we split up or do we go together? According to my calculations,” he said, furrowing his brows as if he was actually counting something. ”the latter will probably take longer.”

Felix looked down at his wrist at a clock you knew didn’t exist. ”I say split up. I have to be home by nine so your calculations better be right.”

Jisung snorted. Oh boy, you thought. ”Is mommy cooking you dinner?”

”She would if only we had our ramekins left.”

Jisung threw his hands up in an exasperated manner as he turned towards Felix. ”Dude is all your food intake dependent on those fucking bowls? Because you wouldn’t shut up about it last night either. Don’t you own some normal ovenware or plates you can eat from-”

”Okaaay, split up it is,” you said as you moved to stand beside Hyunjin. ”I’ll go right with Hyunjin and you two can go left.” You didn’t give them any time to answer as you grabbed Hyunjin’s arm and dragged him down the right wing of the hallway.

However, it didn’t seem like any of them had any complaints as you could still hear them talking as they went down the other way. ”-no I just don’t understand why you don’t classify ramekins as normal ovenware.”

”And I don’t understand why you feel like it’s a good time to discuss whether or not we find certain kitchen tools normal. I just said that because-”

”I honestly can’t believe that we’re still friends with those two.” You looked up at Hyunjin as he spoke. He was walking close to you, his arm brushing against yours as you both made your way down the abandoned corridor.

”Yeah, sometimes I wonder that too. I was about ready to strangle Jisung when he showed up with that cookie earlier.”

”I’m sorry about that by the way. We shouldn’t have left you waiting.”

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling grateful at his apology. ”Honestly it’s fine. I’m used to it by now.” Hyunjin suddenly grabbed your arm and you looked down at it in confusion before looking at his face as he pulled you to a stop.

”You shouldn’t be used to it though-” You were surprised to hear the frustration in his voice and you felt yourself take a step back. Hyunjin must’ve been surprised by it himself because he closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. ”I mean… we always drag you along on these things even though I can see that you don’t want to. It just feels like we’re pressuring you sometimes and it makes me feel bad.” He said as he looked down at you again.

You tried not to think about the fact that Hyunjin, though not exactly literally, just said that he’d been watching you. For a few seconds, you had to force yourself to take a few deep breaths as to not start giggling hysterically before you carefully placed your other hand over Hyunjins’ who was still holding onto your arm. ”Hey, don’t worry about it. Trust me, I would’ve said no if I truly did not want to come.” You said. ”Going with you guys isn’t that bad. I mean this hospital isn’t exactly what I imagined it to be, but it’s still fun.”

For a moment Hyunjin just looked at your hand on top of his own. ”Are you sure?”

You took a deep breath as you tried to come up with anything to say so that the two of you could continue standing in that position, with your hands touching, but you came up blank so instead, you just smiled reassuringly. ”I’m sure.”

Hyujin nodded and did exactly what you were afraid would happen, he let go of your arm as he started walking again down the corridor. ”I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said as he shone down with the flashlight on his feet. ”What do you really think of all this?”

”I don’t know honestly,” You sighed. It’s a question you’ve been trying to answer for yourself too. ”Sometimes I wish we could move on and find other things to do. I mean we’re spending or free time roaming this normal, empty building where nothing is obviously going on. I’m one hundred percent sure that what we heard earlier in the other room was just a dove.”

Hyunjin laughed at that and you smiled at him before continuing. ”But then you know. It’s just something about going out with you guys, seeing parts of town I never in a million years though I’d visit. Exploring like this makes me feel really young again you know? It gives me the essence of childhood,” you said and Hyunjin looked up at you with a smile.

”You’re speaking as if you’re fifty years old.” He laughed as you rolled your eyes and lightly hit his arm.

”What I mean is, I loved spending my childhood with you guys and this just gives me reasons to relive it,” You said and discreetly looked over at Hyunjin to see his reaction to your next words. ”…you guys are truly my best friends.”

It was hard to tell his reaction since the corridor was so dark and you seriously contemplated if you should shine your flashlight in his face to see. You knew it was probably the worst idea you’ve had so far in your entire friendship with him, but you still had to grab your arm holding the light so it wouldn’t fly up straight to his face.

However, you did see when he started to nod as if he was taking your words in. He suddenly looked over at you and you quickly looked away as to not make it obvious you’d been starting. ”Don’t you think it’s time to move on though? Like we can’t be in the same position forever.”

You were slightly taken back by Hyunjin’s words. It had never really occurred to you that Hyunjin maybe didn’t like all of the exploits you guys did, though you had often gotten an impression that he did. ”What do you mean?” You asked, voicing your confusion.

Hyunjin suddenly started to slow down and eventually came to a halt and you mimicked his moves as you turned to look at him. ”I mean that time changes, and,” Hyunjin looked down at the ground as he scratched himself on the neck. ”…relationships. They change.”

What he said did nothing to help your confusion, if anything it only made it worse. Because was he implying what you thought he was implying? ”Well, I mean…” you began, trying to come up with something to say that didn’t make it obvious how much you wished he was saying what you thought he was saying. ”Relationship can still change even though- even though we still do this stuff. As long as there is a will behind it, you know…” You wanted to hit yourself on the forehead, weren’t you being too obvious?

Hyunjin met your eyes and you felt yourself clutch the flashlight as to not break eye contact with him. ”Do you think there’s a will to change behind… us?” He asked.

”I mean probably not in Felix and Jisung, but,” you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. ”There’s definitely one in me.”

Hyunjin suddenly took in a breath and you wanted to do the same because hadn’t you just technically confessed? You didn’t know how it had happened and why it suddenly felt so right to do it - especially not since you were currently in a presumably haunted old hospital - but you think it was the weird wording that tricked you. In your head you had imagined the two of you standing under cherry blossom, holding hands while the two of you confessed in a blushing mess that you liked each other. This was probably the most unromantic place on earth and it was so dark that you couldn’t see if Hyunjin was blushing. Maybe it was good though because it certainly forced you to talk. You took a deep breath. ”Do you think there’s a will in you?”

It felt like forever before you thought you could finally see Hyunjin’s head move up and down. ”There has always been one.”

You wanted to scream and do cartwheels down the entire hallway because you just couldn’t believe what was happening. When you waited in the parking lot earlier, this was definitely not what you had thought would go down. You tried to gain your composure by looking down at your feet and tucking another strand of hair behind your ear. There were a million things running around your head so you didn’t really know what to answer, instead, you quickly grabbed on to the first word you could find. ”Cool…” you said and then you wanted to scream for an entirely different reason. Cool? That’s all?

”So…” Hyunjin said. You couldn’t meet his eyes just yet, you still needed time to compose yourself. ”Does that mean you would like to go out on a-” He suddenly stopped when the flashlight in your hand started to flicker.

You looked down at it confused. Just this morning you had changed batteries so that this wouldn’t happen. You hit it a few times against your palm, however, it didn’t seem to help as the flickering grew more and more intense. The flashlight suddenly became borderline insane, like it had been possessed or something, and you held it out in front of you in fear. Hyunjin suddenly stepped and in a swift motion grabbed it from your hands before throwing it hard down on to the ground.

You both watched as it flickered a few more times before it turned off completely. With wide opened eyes you looked over at Hyunjin and he did the same, mimicking your expression. You were just about to ask him what the hell that was about when a scream from the other end of the corridor interrupted you.

In lightening speed you turned around as you heard heavy, quick footsteps along with constant screaming coming closer and closer. Hyunjin grabbed your arm as he shone his flashlight towards the sounds and soon enough you saw Jisung and Felix, both screaming equally as loud and looking equally as terrified, sprint towards you.

At first, you thought it was just a joke, seeing as they both a little earlier had been almost equally as scared by a bird. Hyunjin must’ve thought the same thing because his grip on your arm slightly lightened. However, as the two screaming boys came closer and you could sort of distinguish Felix screaming run, run, run and Jisung screaming something along the lines of holy shiiiiiiiiit, you thought that something must’ve happened. You looked up at Hyunjin and he met your eyes with a confused frown before you both looked at the boys again.

”I said run you motherfuckers,” Felix screamed when they got close enough to practically scream it right into your faces. You still couldn’t really comprehend what was happening and neither could Hyunjin it seemed like because the two of you just watched as Jisung and Felix ran right past you.

Hyunjin continued to look over at his shoulder as the two boys suddenly seemed to realize that maybe they shouldn’t leave their two friends to meet whatever it was that they had just seen, because they suddenly stopped further down the hallway. You looked back at the direction the boys came from and that is when you saw it.

It was hard to describe what it was, the only reason being that you honestly had no idea what it was you were seeing. Further down the corridor, it was like a black shadow was appearing, a cloud of black smoke surrounding it as it slowly, slowly crept down the corridor towards you. You had to rub your eyes to make sure you weren’t hallucinating, but the dark… thing was still there and you threw out your hand to hit Hyunjin to make sure he was seeing it too.

”What. The hell. Is that?” Hyunjin whispered and you couldn’t respond because you had absolutely no idea. Things like this weren’t supposed to exist outside of movies. You felt your hands starting to shake as the darkness came closer, but you couldn’t seem to move. It was like you were hypnotized by the way it was coming closer and closer.

If it weren’t for the hands that suddenly grabbed your arm, you probably wouldn’t have moved at all.

”You fucking bitches I swear I will kill you all,” it was Jisung shrieking in your ear as he grabbed you to pull you backwards as Felix did the same to Hyunjin who must’ve been as mesmerized by it as you.

You almost fell flat on to your butt when Jisung used all his bodyweight to pull you away, but it was enough to suddenly wake up something inside of you. With adrenaline pumping hard in your body, you took off sprinting along with the three boys.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t comprehend what was happening as you all rounded corner after corner in search for a door leading outside. Maybe it was the adrenaline that was making you hallucinate, but you swore you saw the black smoke surround your legs at one point.

But then you suddenly remembered how before you came here, Jisung had forced you all to study the blueprints of the hospital, something you had back then thought was the most unnecessary thing in the world but was no extremely grateful for as you suddenly saw a corridor with a line of windows that you recognized from the blueprint. If the blueprints were legit, there should have been a door at the end of this hallway.

”Quickly, down here!” you shouted as you turned in to the corridor and continued to sprint down it. You didn’t check if the boys were still following you, but even though the blood pumping in your head made it hard to hear, you thought that you still heard their footsteps and Jisung’s occasional whimpering as you passed the lined windows and then finally, finally saw a metal door at the end of the hallway.

You were all panting as you burst through the door, the sound of the door hitting the wall behind you echoing so loud both you and Jisung screamed. Hyunjin quickly grabbed the metal door and slammed it shut as you all ran down the stairs towards the fence that surrounded the building. Felix suddenly pulled out one of the pliers from his pocket and frantically started to snip the wires off the fence to create a hole you could all fit through. He was taking a really long time though, something the others must’ve agreed on because Jisung suddenly screamed, his voice cracking in the process. ”Hurry up!”

”I’m doing the best I can you idiot!” Felix screamed back as he with a few last cuts with the plier started to pull the fence apart so that you could all fit through.

Hyunjin placed an arm on your back as he pushed you towards the hole, holding it open for you as you climbed through, probably ripping your uniform blazer in the process. It seemed like the door had led you out to the back of the building and after the last one went through the hole in the fence, you all quickly ran around the old hospital to the parking lot located at the front, where you could see your car further down. None of you stopped sprinting until all four of you rounded the car and crouched down behind it.

The wind was the only sound as it ran through the pine trees to stir its leaves. You closed your eyes and listened to it in hopes of calming your beating heart and heavy breathing.

”Do you guys see anything?” Someone whispered and you heard someone’s shoes move against gravel. When you opened your eyes you saw Hyunjin slightly standing up as he looked through the windows of the car towards the building.

”I don’t see anything, I think it’s gone.” He said, making all of you carefully stand up straight as you looked towards the building. Like Hyunjin just said, there was absolutely nothing to be seen. The building looked exactly the way it had when you first arrived.

”Holy fuck, what was that?” Jisung asked.

For a moment you all just stood there, taking in what you had just seen and the fact that you all actually made it out. You looked over at Hyunjin and was surprised to find him already looking at you. As your eyes met his, his face broke out into a relieved smile as his hand reached out towards you. You looked down at it, ready to meet him halfway to lace your cold fingers together when a ding suddenly interrupted you, both of you quickly dropping your hands to the side.

Felix quickly reached into his pocket and took out his phone which must’ve gotten a text.

”Oh hey, my mom is inviting all of you over for dinner.”

a/n: fun fact, I wrote this one after I burnt soy in a ramekin trying to cook frozen salmon.

#stray kids au #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenario #stray kids fanfic #stray kids #skz #stray kids hyunjin #hyunjin au #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin scenario #hyunjin fanfic #kpop au #kpop imagines #kpop scenario #kpop fanfic

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smoothshift · 5 years ago

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Six month and 10k mile review of my 2019 Civic Si sedan via /r/cars

Six month and 10k mile review of my 2019 Civic Si sedan

In April of this year I traded in my Charger Scat Pack for the Si. Since then I have put a set of 235 mm Michelins PS4Ss on and had a local tuning shop install the Ktuner 19.5/23.5 psi V1.2 tune. I paid 24k exactly otd.

Interior quality of the 10th gen Si is great for the price point IMO. While almost all hard plastic it looks and feels nice for what it is. The faux carbon trim is a nice touch if a bit cheesy. One of the best things about all 10th gen Civics is the configurable center console. Absolutely love it. I can fit a 30 oz Yeti and 20 oz Brita bottle in it with room to spare. The digital gauge is a high quality and does not lag. For some reason this car doesn't have tire pressure readouts, just a low indicator. The digital cluster has a boost gauge, accelerator/brake percentage, G force meter and the other typical things like fuel economy.

The infotainment is a little disappointing compared to the Uconnect in my Charger...actually it sucks ass compared to that but I use AA every day so it's a non issue. The 10 speaker stereo is pretty good. Not quite as good as the Beats system in my previous car but it is loud and clear even with the windows down. I cant complain for the price point.

Now onto the important stuff. I'll touch on the transmission first as it seems to be everyones favorite part about the car. The shifter is buttery smooth, never notchy and light as a feather. Clutch is the lightest I've ever felt and easy to modulate. Surprisingly it has feel and you know where the engagement point is despite how light it is. I had my girlfriend drive it a few times and she never stalled once despite never having driven stick before. Out of every manual car I've driven this would be by far the easiest to learn on. I have sat in multiple 30-45 minute traffic jams and not felt fatigued in the slightest, same could not be said for my 6 speed 5.0. That said, for aggressive driving I still prefer the heavier shifter and clutch you get in a GT, SS or Corvette. It's just what I'm used to.

The engine sucked with the stock tune and still kind of sucks post tune. The is zero turbo spool noise unless youre under 30 mph with the windows down and radio off. Even then, barely anything. Exhaust note actually isn't bad and I hate how 4 cylinders sound. Stock it had awful rev hang and artificial turbo lag. The car was slow. After the tune the rev hang is 100% gone and the turbo lag is better. Under 2k the car doesn't spool at all. You have to have this car over 2k to do anything. Once over 2k though, it does pull hard. Rolling on in 4th or 5th at 2500 rpms still feels weird knowing there's a 1.5L under the hood. Anything over 3k and it will pull hard. Stock it ran out of breath at 5k. Post tune it pulls to about 6k. Still a disappointing top end tbh. Mid range 2.5-5.5k that little 1.5L is a beast. But a 3k usable power band sucks especially after owning a 5.0 and 392 Hemi. Also as with all boosted cars heat and humidity have a major affect on drivability. It's finally cooling down in TX and the car feels quite a bit more powerful and the turbo spools quicker.

When the car was stock I raced an Si with the tune I currently have in it's 24 psi Sport mode setting. We did multiple runs starting from 40, 50 and 60 up to about 110 and the tuned Si pulled 5-6 car lengths every time. The tune makes a huge difference in outright speed and drivability. After getting mine done I have raced a few cars. Multiple stock and tune/intake/exhaust 8th and 9th gen Sis. Ran away from all of them. Wasn't a race at all. The closest race was a 2004 auto G35 coupe with exhaust and TB. Ran multiple times from 50/60 to over 100 and it was always a half car victory for whoever got the hit. Basically dead even. I got walked by a 10 speed 5.0 F150 from a 30 roll pretty badly.

Handling is pretty great. I drive with it in Sport mode pretty much all the time because it feels floaty in Normal mode. The adaptive dampers really do work. Also it feels a lot quicker being able to spool to 24 psi. The chassis is balanced, has almost no body roll in Sport mode and is communicative of what type of pavement you're driving over. Steering is precise but feels artificial compared to actual sports cars. You can feel the front weight bias and the car does understeer pretty badly when taken to the limit. The PS4Ss feel like a cheat code when on this car. They are way too much tire for the power level. The seemingly unlimited grip and 2,900 pound curb weight make this car an absolute joy to drive on the street at 7 or 8/10ths.

Overall I give the Si a 9/10 for it's price point. It's not a 10/10 due to the engine. The 1.5T is perfect for DDing but leaves something to be desired during spirited driving. There is no other new vehicle that even comes close to the 10th gen Si for under 25k when you factor in resale value and the overall package. I'm sure the Elantra Sport comes close but the cost of ownership would end up being a lot more when you go to sell it. This would be a perfect first performance car for someone.

I average between 29 and 30 mpg on 93. Pretty impressive when you consider this car is constantly in boost, being redlined and driven hard. Also at 70 mph in 6th it's at 2,600 rpms.

It seems like the jack of all trades car for it's class after having driven the WRX, GTI, ST etc. Each of those cars does something better than the Si but non were as good as an overall package, at least to me. If you're coming from V8 rwd cars like I did it will leave something to be desired. As much as I love the Si I crave an 8 cylinder sound track and rwd driving characteristics every time I get behind the wheel. I'm planning on hanging onto this car until the PS4s are worn out and then getting back to the class of cars I really enjoy. I don't regret buying it. Always wanted to experience this class of car and I'm impressed so far.

#reddit #autonews #auto #cars

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shsl-shipper-gamer-fangirl · 7 years ago

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Dangan Thieves AU - The Circus of a First Palace

A/N Finally! An actual fic for the dangan thieves AU. I think it’s a good 6k draft (I’m a bit rusty, sorry!) Also please take note that I’m going to skip the tutorial and awakening scenes so we can jump right into the first palace! But first! Gotta thank these awesome people for inspiring me! Send them lots of love please!

[concept art Palace Ruler Chisa 1] [2] @ministarfruit

[first summary] @annsparksthegmr

Beloved Teacher and Ringmistress

“Chisa Yukizome. Hope’s Peak Academy. Circus.”

“Commencing navigation.”

All it takes are three keywords and a mysterious app to see just how despairing someone’s heart can be.

Once the dull throb inside their heads subside, so does all form of rationality. What once was the school is now replaced by a circus tent. Spotlights surrounded it, making it hard to miss among the drab concrete buildings. There aren’t even cognitive students loitering around, after all they are most probably the performers inside the tent. From afar, a crowd cheers, over what they’re not sure. If there’s anything they are certain of it’s that this is no dream.

This is reality. This is the reality as seen through their teacher’s eyes. This is a despairing palace.

This is Miss Yukizome’s Palace.

“No matter how many times I see it, it’s still… sad,” Chiaki— Bonnie says with a dejected sigh. She’s already transformed into her Dangan Thief outfit, prepared but not as enthusiastic. “To think that someone like Miss Yukizome has a palace… It’s a plot twist but I don’t like it one bit.”

“Me neither. But this is what we’re up against,” Hajime— Ace says with a face that isn’t exactly thrilled about this either. He readjusts his gloves out of nervous habit. “I don’t like the idea of confronting her like this but this is only way that might get through her at this point.”

“I don’t want to hurt her but… I don’t like how she’s hurting the others. I just want our old teacher back,” She contemplates morosely. If she was still the same Chiaki then maybe she wouldn’t have done anything. But she’s different now. She won’t let herself be a helpless npc. This time she’s going to be the best playable character. “Let’s go talk some sense into her, Ace.”

They enter the circus tent shortly after and explore until they eventually reunite with Monomi at a safe room.

“Uwawa! You came back!” Monomi cries as she hurls herself at them, only Bonnie catches her though she doesn’t seem to mind the cold shoulder from Ace.

“Not like we had a choice. Us coming back has nothing to do with you though,” Ace comments it goes ignored.

“Were you lonely, Monomi?” Bonnie affectionately pets the bunny mascot.

“Just a bit!” Monomi pulls back, she wipes off the tears from her button eyes and puts on a sweet smile. “But I’m okay now that you two are here! Are you going to steal the treasure?”

“No, we just came here to visit you,” Ace says sarcastically.

“Is that so? Ehehe, that makes me so happy!” Monomi blushes and shuffles her feet shyly.

“…” Ace doesn’t react at first. He doesn’t know how to react to this. So he doesn’t. At all. “Anyways, we’re going to look for this treasure now.”

“Oh! Oh! Let me help!” Monomi excitedly hops towards him with her arms raised in volunteer.

“No offense but we don’t even know what you are, much less what you can do,” He shot her down.

“It’s alright. Let her help,” Bonnie counters him with a smile that was more reassuring than the third party in question.

“What.” Ace shoots her an incredulous look. “Why? You can’t tell me that she isn’t suspicious. Besides, I don’t think we can afford to babysit her.”

“You don’t need to worry about me! I can defend myself pretty well!” Monomi puffs proudly at first but then shrinks back to awkwardly shuffling her feet. “Actually, the shadows don’t attack me for some weird reason… So! I definitely won’t hold you down since I won’t need defending!”

He points at her in accusation. “Okay first of all, that sounds suspicious as hell.”

“Or convenient for us,” Bonnie amends. She’s taking this new information too well that it has Ace concerned. Did that seriously not raise any alarms? She sure didn’t look that alarmed though. Then again, this is the same girl who sleeps through alarms that could save her life. She’s too complacent around alarms apparently. “She won’t hold us back and that’s all that matters. For now, shouldn’t it be fine?”

No, it definitely wasn’t fine. But Ace feels like he couldn’t win this argument anyways, at least not without a worse headache than this. They’ve already wasted enough time as it is. Might as well just go along with it just to get it over with and hope this won’t be their downfall. “Fine. But we’re not going to wait for you if you get left behind.”

Bonnie mouths a ‘thank you’ at him and then she turns to their guest party member. “You hear that, Monomi? You’re coming with us, probably.”

Monomi jumps, overjoyed. “Yay! I pwomise you, I won’t be a pwoblem!”

They’re Dangan Thieves trying to steal from the ringmistress of this circus filled with shadows out to kill them. Ace thinks that a walking stuffed toy is the least of their problems.

Well at least Monomi was somewhat helpful. She was able to find a map so there’s that. Ace had to hold back a comment about how any of them could have found it, it just so happened that Monomi was walking in front so she’d see it first. Bonnie was encouraging Monomi too much.

They traversed through the circus according to the map. There were four main levels and upon exploration, they were able to discern the specific themes for each level. There was a clown level aka nightmare fuel level, they never talk about it. There was a human performer level which would have been amazing if only they didn’t recognize some of the faces of the cognitions. There was even an animal level, those shadows were more brutal than cute.

Perhaps even more bizarre than the levels themselves, was the main mode of transportation.

“I’m not afraid of heights but I’m starting to reconsider,” Ace comments as slowly walks on a tightrope with his heart hammering in his chest. He can never be too careful since one misstep could land him dead. Meanwhile Bonnie just speedwalks right ahead of him. How does she even do that? Does she have a cheat code or something? “How are you so calm on these?”

“Why shouldn’t I be calm?” Bonnie asks without a single tremble in her voice, as if they aren’t walking on a trapeze wire that’s above a god knows how deep chasm. He had a feeling that if he wasn’t on the wire, she’d be jumping across it instead. “I’ve played lots of games with tightropes so I’ve gotten the hang of it… I think.”

“Bonnie, I know you’re into games and all but that is not how this works,” He tries to correct her thinking, he tries so hard.

There is no doubt in his mind that videogame skills do NOT transfer in real life, especially tightrope skills. Why does she make it sound like it makes so much sense when it doesn’t?

She even says it so innocently that it physically pulls a deep sigh from him. Maybe it’s because this is a cognitive world. Her ignorance transforms into unprecedented skill here. Yeah, right. “I mean, aren’t you the least bit scared of falling?”

“But I’ve never fallen in videogames?” She replies, honestly confused at what he was getting at.

“That’s not— Ack!” He loses his balance and for a moment, he thinks he sees his life flash before his eyes. He snaps out of his reverie through pure spite at the fact that his life was boring. He recovers his foothold with some effort on his part. Then there’s Bonnie, already at the end, watching him with curious eyes. He gives up. “You know what, forget it. Why do I even ask?”

“Ah. There’s a cannon here we can use.”

“That better shoot us to a safety net because I’m still pissed at the shadow trap the last one shot us into.”

It did land them on a safety net but as they were about to find out, it was just a false sense of security.

“Another cannon? What the hell?”

They landed on a glowing safety net but surrounding them was pitch black. There was no floor or tightrope to walk on, just darkness. However once they climbed that net, they found four cannons at the top, one for each corner. Each cannon was aiming at a different direction, at what exactly they couldn’t tell. It was far too dark to see anything other than the glowing safety net.

Until there was fire. Several fires actually.

“Seriously? Rings of fire?” Ace asks, already dreading where this was going.

“This feels very Zelda-esque. I think these cannons will lead to more cannons but there’s only one true path,” Bonnie analyzes at the top of her head. She claps her hands in appreciation. “Amazing! I’ve always wanted to try solving this kind of puzzles outside of videogames!”

Ace however, didn’t share her enthusiasm. “Didn’t we already meet our quota for puzzles at that house of mirrors?”

That puzzle in particular was more confusing than it should have been. Ace still feels a hole where his pride used to be since Bonnie knew how to solve it at a glance while he just wasted half an hour in there. How was he supposed to know that he had to look at the backgrounds that the mirrors reflected? He was too preoccupied comparing his own actual reflections which looking back, was obviously a lost cause. Anywhere he looked, his reflection was warped in some way.

Hell, there was even this one mirror which he was sure was broken since it wasn’t reflecting him at all. It was reflecting some dude with long black hair and red eyes. That was just plain unsettling.

“Only lazy dungeons have one type of puzzles. You got to give our teacher credit for creativity,” She shouldn’t be praising this torture palace but that’s what it sounded like. At least someone was enjoying this. She turns to him with expectant eyes. “So how should we do this? Should we split or stick together?”

“Let’s just take turns shooting each other I guess.”

Eventually they solve the puzzle with ease but not without grudge. And here Ace thought he hated trapeze wires but it doesn’t come quite close to his animosity towards cannons. How many times did he get blasted off them? Too many in one lifetime. At least this puzzle was pretty straightforward so he couldn’t complain, as much. He can still hear ringing in his ears.

Not long after that, they finally arrive at the Treasure Room. It’s more anti-climactic than it sounds.

“This is the treasure? Doesn’t look much of a treasure to me,” Ace comments on the floating blur in front of them. The only hint that it was some sort of treasure was that it was the last room and by default, it should be the treasure. That and sometimes it sparkles or at least he thinks so if he squints hard enough.

He is not impressed. “Don’t tell me this is another puzzle.”

“Hmm… Not a puzzle but maybe it’s a locked key item?” Bonnie suggests thoughtfully. “Maybe there’s a certain condition we need to clear first before we can get it.”

“That’s right!” Monomi suddenly pipes in. “Right now, the treasure is distorted just like everything else here. To steal it, we need to transform it into something physical.”

“How exactly do we do that?” Ace asks with his usual skepticism.

“By having the Palace Ruler conscious that her treasure’s about to be stolen!” Monomi says it matter-of-factly.

“Doesn’t the Shadow Chisa already know that we’re going to steal it though?”

“No, not that one. The one you should target is the Miss Chisa in your world,” Monomi corrects and then adds on, “This world is built from the real world. Remember how you two had ambushed her in her office and how that opened a level here? It’s the same principle.”

“I see. So if we tell the real Miss Yukizome that we’re going to steal her treasure then she’ll be conscious about it enough to actually have the treasure manifest here… or so I think,” Bonnie concludes with honed logic.

“That’s exactly it! Good job!” Monomi flails her arms in cheer. She’s proud that her students learn fast.

“So what? We just tell her something vague like, 'we’ll steal your treasure’, just like that?” Ace holds his chin, contemplating. His lips form a straight line. He doesn’t like this plan at all. “I don’t know about this. It feels like an express ticket to expulsion.”

“Don’t worry! You don’t have to actually do it yourselves. Or rather, you don’t need to reveal your identities!” Monomi cheerfully reassures them. “As long as 'someone’ is out to get it then the effect should be the same.”

“Got it. Leave this to me.” Bonnie raises her hand enthusiastically. Her face is determined but also just barely hiding her excitement. “I’ve always wanted to try something like this.”

“Wait, what something? What exactly do you plan to do?” He asks in concern but she just smiles coyly.

“It’s a surprise.”

Sending a calling card was definitely a last surprise.

Not just one calling card but several in fact. They practically littered the school. They were scattered on the ground outside, and on the floor inside, some were posted on the walls. They were hard to miss. How did she even get to print this many without getting caught? How did she post them all without getting caught?

And yet here was Chiaki, playing nonchalantly, still not caught.

He walks towards her and whispers discreetly, “Hey, isn’t this a little bit overboard? Shouldn’t one calling card to her desk be enough?”

“Maybe… if we were already famous.” She shrugs. She doesn’t pause the game but she continues the conversation, “If it were you and only you got this card, what would you have thought?”

“Someone has too much free time on their hands?”

“Exactly. It’ll come off as a prank and it’s easier to contain it into a private incident. Something she can control.” She stops talking when a few students pass them by and then whispers in a low voice, “But this? This is public humiliation. This will at least cause a panic and an outrage at most.”

“I see… Posting on the whole school level does make it look high priority.” He has to admit, this was a well thought out plan. Impractical as it may seem at first glance, the reasoning behind it was on point. There’s just one concern left. “Do you think it worked though?”

She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t need to answer.

Because someone else makes the answer known for them.

“What rotten oranges! The most rotten of all fruits!” They turn around and see Miss Yukizome shouting furiously, already sweeping a pile of calling cards. “To think that someone would go so far? I don’t think they understand just who they are messing with! I will find the brats behind this. After all, rotten oranges should be either thrown or buried.”

And while Hajime was sweating bullets from that obvious death threat, Chiaki seemed to take the news better.

“It looks like we have a treasure to steal,” She states with a triumphant look.

—

Dear Ringmistress Yukizome

Your despairing desires have turned this school into a circus. You no longer treat students as they should be, instead you educate them mercilessly. This distasteful show has gone long enough. We have come for you to repent and so we are going to steal your heart.

Sincerely, The Dangan Thieves of Hope

“Did you really think you could steal my treasure?

This school is my circus and I am its ringmistress! You rotten oranges are nothing more than stage performers who jump at my command! Petty thieves have no place in my circus!

I’ll make sure to have you jump through fates worse than rings of fire!”

—

Just as Chiaki had said, when they returned to the Treasure Room, the treasure had manifested. Instead of the indiscernible blurred blob, an extravagant top hat floats before them. Even at a glance, the material woven with is of high quality and the buttons glimmer with a shine similar to polished gems. Truly for a hat, it could be hailed as a treasure.

“A fancy top hat, huh. I was kind of expecting a whip honestly,” Ace comments as he admires it from afar, almost mesmerized.

“I guess you would think that. But it’s actually the top hat that’s the true status symbol, I think,” Bonnie adds on, just one of those trivias she picked up from videogames.

“The top hat is prettier too!” Monomi practically coos from the side.

“Well it doesn’t matter. Either way, we’re stealing it.” What’s important is that they’re taking this treasure with them regardless of their preferences. He tentatively reaches out for it—

Only to be pushed away by Bonnie.

“Ace, watch out!” She shouts and tackles him just in time before flames errupt from where he once stood.

“What the hell?” He coughs, accidentally having inhaled smoke. Suddenly the room felt all too hot.

Just as soon as the flames burst, they die out in an instant— along with the room’s lights. Suddenly, darkness swallows them.

“Did you really think it would be that easy?” The voice of Shadow Chisa creeps upon them. In the darkness, she could have well speaking through a megaphone beside them. “Do you think the way I treat my performers is cruel?” She chuckles eeriely and her hollow laughter echoes in the dark. “Well then let me show you how I treat thieves!”

With a snap of her fingers, the spotlights are on again.

Gone was the backstage room they were in. Now they were out in the performer’s ring, surrounded by bleachers filled with a crowd seemingly materialized out of nowhere. Shadow Chisa flicks her wrist and her whip cracks. The sharp sound summons a savage shadow that could pass off as a monstrous tiger. She sits on it as if it was her throne. It was a dangerous sight to behold. That was the least of their concerns at the moment. After all, the treasure was now beyond reach, and on top of Shadow Chisa’s head.

“My top hat is not some pretty thing to be simply stolen. It is a right to be earned. An honor that I earned,” She boasts high and mighty from her perch, looking down on them. “Only those who can perform the best shows have the right to wear this!”

She cracks her whip numerous times, each time a shadow comes forth.

“Watch and learn just how inexperienced you truly are without my guidance!”

Naturally they wouldn’t be able to take the treasure without a fight. This much they expected. They even managed to sweep off the first batch of shadows in just a few turns. But every time they defeat a shadow, Shadow Chisa simply cracks her whip and summons another, sometimes even more. They knew that in order to win this, they had to attack Shadow Chisa but she remains beyond the shield of shadows and out of reach. But that’s not even all of her tricks.

“Ugh!” Bonnie grits her teeth when a critical hit lands on her. She’s down on her knees, gasping.

The crowd roars. It isn’t just for show either since the enemies get buffs while the two of them get debuffs.

“Sorry… they got me off guard,” She slurs, already feeling her speed lowered.

“It happens. Just take care,” He answers curtly.

This isn’t working out. At this pace, they’ll end up exhausted and out of items before long. They have to change strategy, maybe aim elsewhere. Ace tries a different tactic and pulls out his dual pistols.

He fires at Shadow Chisa but she dodges with a flamboyant flip, mocking him. “Dammit!”

The crowd’s roar is even louder this time. The effects are instantaneous, perhaps even stronger.

“What the hell? Isn’t this a little unfair?!” He shouts in frustration as he feels his attack power leeched from him. He can barely hold his weapon with what little strength left in him.

“What did you expect when battling in this ring? We are all performers here. It’s our job to please the crowd, is it not?” Shadow Chisa taunts them with a malicious grin.

“Just give us the freaking hat already!” He barks at her as he narrowly dodges a shadow’s swipe. It’s sloppy and he knows that he can barely dodge another. These debuffs were hurting them more than the actual attacks.

“Wait, Ace. Maybe we’ve been doing this wrong,” Bonnie suddenly brings up when they were cornered.

“What? Did you figure something out?” He shoots her a desperate yet hopeful look.

She doesn’t disappoint. “It’s just as she said. Even though we are fighting, we’re also in the middle of a performance.” She gestures towards the crowd surrounding them. “Don’t you think we should show off our showmanship a bit more?”

…Show off?

Something clicked in the back of his head. That makes sense. That could actually work. That could turn the tables for them. “Oh… I think I get it now.” He nods at her, placing his full trust to her idea. “Alright, Bonnie. Show them how it’s done.”

“Blast off, Galaga!” She summons her persona but rather than using it to attack, she uses it in an improvised routine.

Bonnie latches on it and lets it take her to the highest point where she stays there for one dramatic moment longer. She lets go and falls head first. Her arms are crossed over her chest and her face is as peaceful as ever with her eyes closed. The crowd gasps at her bold move. She plummets fast towards the ground. Even Ace has to hold his breath. Just when there’s only several feet left, her eyes open. She flips herself upright and Galaga swoops in from beneath. She lands tall and proud.

The crowd goes wild. It has never been this loud and this time they were cheering for them.

“Alright! It looks like now’s our chance!” Ace triumphantly shouts, he feels stronger than ever.

From there, they regain their momentum. Aside from sending out Bonnie to do tricks, Ace found out that pulling off flashy moves or dodges had that same effect. For most part of the battle, they were the ones buffed rather than the shadows. It didn’t take long until Shadow Chisa finally ran out of shadow performers to summon.

“Enough!” Shadow Chisa growls at them. “You think that those cheap tricks are enough to best me? Truly the folly of amateurs. I’ll show you just how entertaining a performance should be!”

With another snap of her fingers, the spotlights converge towards Shadow Chisa, the light so intense that she could not be seen. From the blinding light, she bursts through transformed. Dark skin seething with fire, pointed horns portruding her head, and three pairs of arms each holding a flaming whip.

The crowd’s cheers are deafening.

“See? This is how you excite the crowd!” She gloats at them and the crowd goes ballistic. She looks down on them from her high perch and challenges them, “Now let me see how you top this!”

Her attacks were brutal. Six hands meant six attacks per turn and then there was that special tiger move. There’s also that annoying fact that she can do a trick before every turn of hers so all of her attacks are strengthened. But with Chiaki’s performance, they managed to get by somehow. She keeps coming up with impromptu routines that steal the show. Literally stealing the whips certainly helped, that was Ace’s favorite trick of hers.

All of them were exhausted at this point however against all odds, they were winning.

And it pissed off Shadow Chisa.

“You insolent brats. How dare you ruin my performance!”

“Give it up! You’re already out of tricks!” Ace jeers.

“The crowd loves us more so this is our win!” Bonnie shouts and as if on cue, the cognitive crowd cheers.

Shadow Chisa is not taking any of this.

“What kind of a ringmistress do you think I am? Of course I always save the best for last!” She barks, unwilling to accept defeat. She narrows her eyes at them. “Your last that is.”

They did not like the foreboding feeling that sentence held.

“Didn’t I tell you before that I’d make you jump through fates worse than rings of fire?” Six hands snap consecutively. Six large rings of fire encircle the two thieves from top to bottom. There’s no room for them to escape. “I like to call this one, Orange Flambete.”

She extends all of her arms and then swiftly brings them towards three pairs of claps.

Time slowed down at that point. Ace realized with all too much certainty what was happening. As her hands were getting closer and closer to contact, so were the flaming rings growing smaller and smaller around them. At some point they will undoubtedly get trapped and burned alive. No reflex or persona could save them. He chances a final glance at Bonnie, he recognizes the dreadful realization on her face. The same inescapable realization that mirrored his.

They were going to die.

He didn’t want to die.

He didn’t want her to die.

He didn’t sign up for this just to die.

Dying like this… Dying like this is…

Boring.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!” He clutches his head which feels like it was just set on fire. The pain scorches along his skull and his screams burn scars along his throat. He panics when he thinks that the flames have already gotten to him. Everything burns. Everything hurts. Everything dies. He doesn’t want to die. Not like this. Not a boring death like this.

But Ace eventually dies.

And so Blackjack is born.

Whatever remnant of Ace was had combusted into dark flames and replaced with someone else. His short brown spiky hair was now long ebony locks. His suit was replaced with a trench coat, his bowtie with a cravat, and his gloves were now dipped in red. His mask held a long beak and large clear lenses cover his eyes that glow red through. It was eerie, how different he carried himself. There was something unsettling about every fiber of this being.

Whereas Ace seemed full of life, Blackjack felt like death incarnate.

With a flick of his wrist, the flames instantly die out and in the next moment, the rings instantaneously crumble into dust. He didn’t even need to summon a persona. It’s as if he has complete control over everything simply by existing. If the Reaper exists then surely this person was Death himself.

The room falls into a reverant hush, even the crowd is uncharacteristically silent.

“What just happened?” Shadow Chisa asks, shocked but mostly annoyed.

His head slowly turns towards her, his eyes glow menacingly. Red is the color of blood.

Do shadows bleed?

Shadow Chisa feels her blood leave her body. She instantly fears for her life.

She doesn’t even get the chance to put her fear into action. She doesn’t even see what’s coming. In one swift movement, Blackjack has disarmed her of her weapons and her arms bend at all the wrong angles. “AAARGH!” She crumples helplessly with barely enough life left.

He calmly walks toward her as she tries to crawl away.

“G-Get back! Go away!” She shouts at him. She tries to snap her fingers but even those were broken without her knowing. She doesn’t bleed, not externally at least. But she doesn’t need to see the blood to know that she is dying.

And she will be killed faster.

So she pours what little remains of her life into desperate panic. She tries, and squirms, and crawls harder, as harder as her broken body can go.

Unfortunately for her, she doesn’t go that much farther. At least not enough to get away from the encroaching death.

He doesn’t hasten his walk, he doesn’t need to. In just a few languid strides, he reaches her. He stomps a foot on her chest, halting her movements. It weighs heavily on her like judgement. His heel digs into her, as if digging for a grave, her grave. Two guns are aimed at her head, loaded and ready to fire.

Two bullets, one for the kill and another for pity in case she survives the first one.

His expression is unshifting, unreadable, unfeeling.

He has yet to even say a single word.

It all happened so quickly that it had Bonnie reeling. She feels as if she was just watching some show, not really something happening in front of her. It was all too surreal. But the sight of Shadow Chisa on her dying breath snaps her right out of her reverie. Hajime or whoever that person is— is about to kill Shadow Chisa.

They came here to steal the treasure, not to kill the palace ruler.

She recovers on her feet and rushes towrds them. She thinks she sees him from her peripheral vision, curiously watching her every movement. But even so, he does not stop her. Not even when she was rushing in with desperate hurried steps. Not even when she abruptly pushes the guns away with trembling hands. Not even when she looked at him with a dead set determination.

He does not stop her. Instead he simply observes.

“That’s enough,” She starts off sternly. She may be out of breath but her resolve barely wavers. His face is still impassive but hers softens. As much as she wants to stop him, she also wants to show her gratitude. And so despite the situation, she smiles warmly. "Thank you for saving me… us.”

“…” He observes.

“But I think we can handle it from here.“ She stands her ground even as he quietly regards her. There is no movement from him, not even the slightest twitch of fingers on the triggers. She holds her breath, her eyes never leaving his.

He is done observing.

”…“ There is the faintest flicker in his eyes or maybe that’s just the glint from the lenses. When he speaks, his voice is as empty as his eyes. "Hmph. How boring…”

She wanted to ask him what he meant by that. Boring? What exactly did he find boring? And who was he in the first place? How is he related to Hajime? What happened to Hajime? How did he even appear? And why… why do his eyes look so empty? These were only a few of the questions she had wanted to ask. She wanted to ask him but she never did get the chance.

Dark flames errupt from nowhere and consume him whole.

When the flames die, so does Blackjack.

And so Ace comes back.

He clutches his head which strangely felt like it had just been set on fire. He couldn’t tell if it was a migraine or a hangover or both. Probably both. Or maybe just something worse. Just what the hell hit him? Hot white flashes of pain scorch along his skull as he groans weakly, “Ugh, I can’t… Did I get a critical hit to the head or something?”

“I’ll explain later,” She calmly reassures him. “For now, let’s deal with this first.”

Shadow Chisa is already on her knees, face towards the floor, and begging. “I didn’t mean for it to get this far. I just wanted what’s best for my students. But somewhere along the way, I forgot what’s important.” Her body shakes as she cries. It’s hard to imagine that this was the same shadow that was hellbent on killing them before. But it’s easy to remember the sincerity their teacher used to show. “Please forgive me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I think there are others who deserve to hear that apology more than us,” Bonnie says as she gently pats her by the shoulders.

“Yeah, so long as you reflect on what you’ve done, there’s always hope for you.” Ace snatches the top hat from her, she doesn’t even fight for it.

With the treasure gone, the palace crumbles and so does her despairing desires.

“We’ll see your change of heart on the other side.”

That wasn’t the only thing they saw on the other side.

“What the?”

“What is it, Hajime?”

“Remember what Miss Yukizome’s treasure was?”

“A top hat… right?”

“Yeah, well about that…” He sucks in a breath, readying himself for delivering the news. “I can’t seem to find it.”

She tilts her head. “Did we drop it on our way out?”

“No, I’m pretty sure it was in here all the time and the zipper was closed so there was no way I could have dropped it.” He goes through the loot bag again but grumbles when he still can’t find it.

“Maybe I should look at it instead?” She offers.

“Okay. But be careful—”

She unceremoniously pours out the contents.

He sighs, tired. “Nevermind. Just go do your thing.”

She sifts through the various valuables they collected and makes a note of each one in her mind. Nothing else seems to be out of place, all the other loot is still here. Except for the top hat. But there was something there that wasn’t there before. “Huh? What’s this doing here?”

She holds up the strangely misplaced item.

“Hey, isn’t that your class picture?” Hajime comments as he looks over her shoulder.

“Yeah, it is,” She confirms with a fond expression.

“I wonder, how did that get in there?”

“Maybe this was the treasure all along…” She whispers.

“Huh?”

“I think that Miss Yukizome, in her own way, was just trying to protect everyone.” She examines the photo closely and takes note of its pristine condition, as if it had been conscientiously cared for. This only confirms her suspicions. “After all, this was her treasure, right? Her intention was good but somewhere along the way, her methods turned bad.”

“I guess so. I mean she’s a kind person at heart.” He almost winces at his choice of words considering she also possessed a despairing heart. But they both knew what he meant. Their teacher was truly a kind and caring person. “That’s why it was so shocking at how despairing her desires were. It didn’t feel right. Especially not with her.”

“I get the same feeling too. Her methods were too extreme. And it’s not like her to think such dark thoughts.” She places the photo down as she contemplates further. “What if… What if someone else had implanted them?”

He raises an eyebrow at the idea. “You think so?”

“I’m not sure… It’s just a theory,” She falters.

“It’s… plausible I guess.” He nods as he develops it further. “I mean if we could go into the cognitive world and change hearts then who’s to say that there isn’t someone else out there distorting other people’s hearts?”

“It’s certainly better to think that Miss Yukizome’s actions were caused by someone else but…” She hesitates a bit for she concludes, “That would imply that there is someone else out there.”

“And that person is still out there,” He finishes.

It’s not a happy theory.

But it’s something that they can’t look away from.

“If there is such a person then I want to find them,” Chiaki announces with a face set with determination. “We can’t just let them wreak havoc. All they’re doing is spreading suffering. We have to stop them.”

“I agree. Besides, who knows who else they might have changed hearts? Depending on the person, we could be facing a crisis if we don’t do anything about this,” Hajime seconds her conviction. “We have to make sure. Once we know, we will find them. And we will steal their despairing heart as well.”

They may have stolen the despairing heart of their teacher but this was just the first of the many heists of The Dangan Thieves of Hope.

#dangan thieves AU #chisa yukizome #chiaki nanami #hajime hinata #dangan ronpa #danganronpa #izuru kamukura #hinanami #sdr2 #dr3 #dr3 despair #gotta love those two tumblr pips #I honestly do

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wholesaletechgear015 · 5 years ago

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iv-kplpt · 7 years ago

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a stranger in my phonebook [exorcist au]

~6k words, t-rated (shocking, i know) summary: charlie’s house is haunted. she calls an exorcist. he’s hot. also, the ghost has an agenda.

Gotham City was weird, especially compared to New York - it had Batman. It had the Joker. It had truly staggering amounts of gangsters.

It also had ghosts; granted, it did lead to something good - but it was still… Weird.

“So, how did you two meet?” was a question Charlie and Oswald heard quite often; they told the story to anyone who wanted to hear it - but it never made it any less weird.

When Charlie first moved there, she was blissfully unaware of weird things happening in Gotham - it was never anything big enough to make it onto national news. Somehow Gothamites managed to keep everything under the wraps, making Gotham seem like a reasonable place to live in - low living cost, plenty of opportunities. Some people called Gotham “the city of second chances”, claiming the old hag has something to offer to anyone willing to take it - and Charlie was precisely that kind of person.

New York was ruined for her; Gotham, on the other hand? Not at all.

Sure, she expected some problems - such as getting lost or making new connections or getting homesick - but being haunted… Was never on the list. She never even believed in ghosts - but it was hard to not believe, when her porcelain cup started to float right in front of her face.

“Well.” she said, crossing her arms and sighing. “That’s a new.”

The cup kept floating, and she carefully touched it with her fingertips; it budged slightly, but didn’t drop.

(Good. She liked that cup.)

“This is real, right?” she asked; the cup didn’t react - but her sugar bowl opened and flipped, spilling all the sugar onto the counter; and the tiny crystals were moving, as something invisible was writing a message.

“Yes.” the message said and Charlie groaned.

“Do you want my blood?” she asked. “Or soul or… Whatever?”

The previous message got erased quickly.

“NO.” the next one said.

“Alright, that’s a good start.” she muttered. “Can I have my cup back? I… Really want some tea.”

Experimentally, she grabbed the cup and pulled it; it moved easily, as if nothing was holding it in place.

Nothing more happened that evening and the only proof she had was a message written in sugar; but it was a long day. She was sleep deprived and stressed.

She decided it was all her imagination and didn’t think of it again - but then it happened… Again.

She was taking a shower; and as she left the cabin and was squeezing the water out of her hair - there was something on the mirror.

Charlie assumed the ghost attempted to tell her something by using toothpaste - but it was mostly illegible.

Either the steam ruined the message, or her ghost had a truly abhorrent handwriting.

“I can’t read that.” she said with resignation, staring at the toothpaste smeared on the mirror surface. “Can you maybe… Let me get dressed? Knock once you’re outside, I don’t feel like showing my tits to… A dead stranger.”

(The thought occurred to her that the ghost probably had seen her naked more than once already; it probably also saw her masturbate. Absentmindedly she wondered if ghosts get boners.)

After a short moment, there was a quiet knock, coming from the other side of the bathroom door. She hanged up the towel she was covering herself with and put on a bathrobe and left.

“Alright.” she said into space, feeling awkward. “I’m going into the kitchen. I have sugar there. And plenty of flour.”

But the ghost didn’t react; and nothing happened as she went into the kitchen.

“Hey?” she asked hesitantly. “Ghost? You there?”

No answer.

“Right, leave me with that mess you made in the bathroom.” she muttered, sighing. “Thanks a lot.”

But when she returned to the bathroom some time later - the mirror was perfectly clean, empty, completely flat toothpaste tube being the only proof of anything happening.

“That was my last tube!” she said with exasperation. “I assume there’s no point in asking you to go to the gas station then.”

No answer; so she only sighed, dried her hair, dressed up and went to a nearby gas station to get some toothpaste.

The station was empty; she and the clerk were the only people there. The clerk - handsome man, around her age - looked mildly amused as she put a single tube of toothpaste on the counter.

“Usually people just buy gum.” he said, ringing the tube. “Will that be all?”

“...make it five.” she muttered, glancing at his amused face. “I’ll pick it up on my way out.”

“Alright.” the man said, briefly glancing at her; her face was bare and she could feel his eyes on her freckles. “Have a good night, ma’am.”

“You too.” she said, turning around; before leaving, she picked up four more tubes of paste.

“I wonder if it’s just in my home, or maybe I’m haunted.” she muttered, walking to her car. “Hey, ghost, you there?”

But there was no answer - maybe her ghost was mute. Or maybe it stayed behind.

For about two weeks, nothing had happened - she was simply living her life, slowly getting accustomed to Gotham; she met some new people and was learning how to cook. Those evenings were so absorbing she probably simply didn’t notice stuff happening - floating bell peppers or a short message written in flour or moving furniture.

The ghost was never aggressive - until one morning it almost killed her with a phonebook. She didn’t even know she has one of those, in times of the internet - but she apparently did, as it landed on the pillow, inches away from her head.

“What?” she muttered, opening her eyes. “What?”

No answer; only the brickish tome next to her.

“No.” she said firmly, getting up. “This isn’t funny, ghost.”

No answer; she only sighed and threw the book under her bed and went back to sleep. What else was she supposed to do?

(She never told anyone about her ghost problem, that was not really a problem; she felt like nobody’s going to believe her anyway.)

The thing with a phonebook happened a few more times; until one morning she grew frustrated.

“What do you want?!” she yelled, still sitting on her bed, her hair a mess. “What?!”

It was almost as if that was the thing her ghost was looking for - the phonebook opened. The ghost flipped a few pages and moved the book towards her.

“...E?” she said hesitantly, rubbing her eyes. “What, do you want me to call an electrician?”

The book shook, as if ghost was holding it and shaking its head furiously.

“You know what, I have a better idea.” she said, reaching for a pen, coincidentally lying on her nightstand. “Here. Take this and just… Show me what do you want. Who do you want.”

She put her pen on the book, and the ghost picked it up; after a moment, the floating pen circled a name on the bottom of the page.

“You want me to call an exorcist?!” Charlie asked in disbelief, glancing at the page. “Are you suicidal, ghost?”

Instead of answering directly, the ghost wrote “important” on the empty space on top of the page.

(Apparently, there was only one exorcist in Gotham. His name was Oswald Cobblepot; the name sounded vaguely familiar, though she couldn’t connect it with a person.)

“Well, alright.” she said hesitantly, reaching for her phone. “I’ll call him.”

But she only reached his answering machine.

“Allo!” she heard a cheerful voice that also sounded vaguely familiar. “I’m probably asleep, or my phone’s dead. I’ll call back… Eventually.”

Beep.

“Good morning.” she said, wondering if the ghost is still in the room. “Please do call me back, mister Cobblepot, I have a ghost in my home. You can reach me under this number.”

She ended the call.

“Happy?” she asked; no answer.

Oswald Cobblepot called her back in the evening.

“Is the ghost problem still there?” he asked without any greeting and she blinked, needing a moment to connect the dots.

“Yeah, I think so.” she said hesitantly, looking up from her cookbook. “I mean, it hadn’t been very active today, but-”

“Can we meet in person?” he interrupted her hastily. “My phone battery’s dead and I have no bloody idea where did my charger go. Can you drop by my place?”

“Mm-hm.” she muttered, trying to figure out whether the recipe calls for a big or medium onion. “I can be there tomorrow afternoon. Text me the address.”

“Splendid!” the man said joyfully. “I’ll see you then. Tatty-bye!”

He ended the call before she said anything; one minute later she got a text from him.

“I’m going to see your exorcist tomorrow, you know.” she said, dicing a carrot. “I’m not sure how to tell him you sent me, but I’ll think of something. I hope you’re happy.”

The ghost poured all the sugar out of her bowl and wrote “Very.” in it; it then added a pinch of sugar to the pot, where her curry was slowly beginning to boil.

***

She visited Oswald Cobblepot early in the afternoon the next day. Google Maps lead her to the Slavic Quarter - a bit sketchy part of town, inhabited by immigrants from various Slavic countries. It was cheap and somehow looked older and more grim than rest of the city.

She was standing in front of an art shop, trying to figure out if this is the building she’s looking for; after a while she gave up and went inside.

The shop was tiny, but well lit; working the counter was a dark-haired girl with a long, wavy ponytail and straight bangs.

“You look lost.” she said with a thick, Polish accent as soon as she noticed Charlie.

“I’m looking for Oswald Cobblepot.” Charlie said hesitantly. “The-”

“The exorcist, I know.” the girl interrupted her with a sigh. “He lives upstairs. Come, I’ll show you the way.”

It turned out there was a narrow door, hidden on the wall at the back of the shop; the girl opened it and Charlie saw dimly lit, wooden stairs.

“Go one floor up. And tell him I said hi.”

“Thank you.” Charlie said quietly, climbing up; she felt out of place and tense.

It took her a good two minutes of knocking to finally get Oswald to open the door.

“I’m here, I’m here!” she heard him say grumpily as he was unlocking the door. “It’s five am, so it better be-”

“It’s two pm, actually.” she interrupted him with an amused smile, as he finally opened the door, yawning; they both froze for a moment.

The guy from the gas station. Of course.

“Well shit, I’ll be damned.” he said, running his fingers through his messy hair and cocking his head. “The toothpaste girl.”

“That’s me, Crest Hill’s newest cryptid.” she said hesitantly, looking at his sweatpants and avoiding looking at his bare chest, decorated with scars. “Can I come in?”

“Sure, sure.” he said, stepping aside, staring at her. “Welcome… To my lair.”

His place was a mess, she noticed absentmindedly; it was small and kinda dark and she could see piles of dirty dishes in a sink in the tiny kitchen.

“Please, sit down.” he said, seemingly completely unbothered both by the mess and his indecent state “Tea?”

“Alright.” she said, carefully sitting down on a nearby chair and looking around; it looked like Oswald Cobblepot hadn’t made his bed in about a year, judging from the state of bedclothes.

“Do you like jasmine tea?” he asked, looking at her over his shoulder; she quickly turned her eyes away his scarred - but very nice to look at - back.

“Yeah.” she said, instead briefly glancing at a nearby bookshelf; it seemed like Oswald has an affinity for trashy romance novels.

“Sugar?”

“Ruins the flavor.” she said firmly and he snickered.

“Oh, I already like you.” he said, handing her a cup full of the same high quality jasmine tea her mother used to drink; it seemed like this is where all his money go.

He sat on the bed, holding a cup of coffee, staring at her attentively.

“Oh. Right.” she said eventually. “My name’s Charlie. Charlie Schiller-Aberdeen.”

“Mmm.” he muttered, taking a sip of his coffee and not taking his eyes off her.

“Do you believe in ghosts, mister Cobblepot?” she asked without thinking and instantly regretted it, seeing an amused spark in his eyes.

“No.” he said politely, not even trying to hide his smirk. “I do not. My exorcisms revolve around me telling the ghost it doesn’t exist enough times to make it question its own existence.”

“...and does it work?” she asked with a wink and he laughed.

“I once dealt with a ghost of someone with dissociative identity disorder. You’ll never guess how I got rid of it.”

“So you’re a dick to ghosts.” she said taking a sip of her tea. “And Gotham’s only exorcist. How come?”

“People here grew used to their ghosts, I suppose.” he said with a shrug. “They have bigger issues, they can’t be bothered… Who cares about a dead grandma when there’s Batman, basically.”

He set his cup down on the floor and rested his elbows against his knees, slightly leaning in her direction.

“What brings you here?” he asked finally. “I know you have a ghost problem. Now give me details.”

He straightened his back and stretched, glancing at her with his eyes half-closed.

“Take your time.” he added. “Your ghost won’t reach you here.”

“My ghost wanted me to contact you, actually.” she said nervously, holding her - now empty - cup. “And I know how it sounds, but… It threw a phonebook at me. And I don’t even have a phonebook.”

“What, did your ghost throw a ghost phonebook at you?” Oswald asked with a smirk and she rolled her eyes.

“It doesn’t matter! What matters is that my ghost wanted me to contact you, specifically.” she said, as Oswald reached out and took the cup out of her hands; his fingertips brushed her skin and oh my god were those goosebumps?

“Did it say what it wants?”

“No.” she said, looking away; suddenly his gaze felt weird. “In fact this is the only time it wants anything from me.”

“Mmmm.” he said, still staring at her intently. “Where did you say you live?”

“Crest Hill.”

“Mmm.” he muttered. “Alright. Can you take me there?”

“What, today?” she asked, taken aback; he nodded.

“Yeah. I think I know what’s going on.” he said very seriously, getting up. “Just let me get dressed.”

“So.” she said as he locked himself in the bathroom. “What is going on?”

“Best for you to not know.” he said from behind the door. “But I’m going to have a conversation with your ghost.”

“What, is there like, a well known ghost of Crest Hill?”

“You could say that.” he said, leaving the bathroom and putting his shoes on. “It’s complicated, really.”

“Just as long as it works.” she sighed, as he put his coat on; on the hanger it looked like a shapeless sack, on him - it just worked. “You don’t need any stuff?”

“Not for this ghost, no. I have my wits with me, so we’re good. Come on. Let’s get going.”

As they were leaving through the shop, Oswald snickered and shouted something to the girl working the counter, who yelled back; and Charlie couldn’t understand a word.

“A friend of yours?” Charlie asked as they were walking down the street towards her car. “Oh! She said hi when she was letting me in.”

“She has cojones made out of stainless steel.” Oswald said, putting his hands in his pockets. “Let me guess. You drive the lamborghini.”

“I know it stands out.” she muttered, fishing for keys. “Front seat, back seat?”

“Front. Motion sickness is a bitch.” he said, sliding inside.

He only said something as they reached Crest Hill; he sighed heavily, looking out of the window.

“I grew up here, you know.” he said casually and she blinked. “In this part of Gotham. Ah. Good times.”

“And how did you end up in the other part of town?” she asked carefully.

“An ugly story.” he said shortly. “And a long one. Not for now.”

She parked the car in the garage and went outside, breathing in fresh air.

“Beautiful day.” Oswald stated, standing next to her.

“It is.” she agreed, opening the front door and entering the house. “Hey! Ghost!”

Oswald went in after her, looking around silently; she put the keys on the kitchen counter, glancing in the direction of the sugar bowl, to see if her ghost left her a message; nothing.

“I brought Oswald Cobblepot!” she said, feeling awkward; somewhere in the background Oswald had snickered. “He’s the guy you wanted, right?”

“He won’t answer.” Oswald said, walking towards her. “He’s not very chatty. Is that where he first manifested?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Good. Could you give us a moment?” he said with a grin. “Take a bath of jack off or whatever, we need some privacy, my ghost friend and I.”

“Can we not talk about masturbation?” she asked faintly. “But yeah, I get the hint. I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be… Upstairs.”

As she was leaving the kitchen, she heard Oswald say “Come out now, we gotta talk. Now.”

***

It wasn’t the first time it happened.

Ghost of Theodore Cobblepot - because Oswald was sure this is who’s haunting Charlie Schiller-Aberdeen - had a peculiar habit of haunting people around Oswald’s age he believed to be his son’s type. Oswald’s mother made it to the other side; but his father stayed behind, very determined to see his son build a future with someone. It was kind of touching - the knowledge his father wanted happiness for him so badly it was stopping him from getting some peace - but it was also annoying. Most people in Gotham dealt with their ghosts on their own; but Theodore was… Remarkably stubborn.

Oswald knew something’s up when he saw a young woman he knew is living around buy five tubes of toothpaste in the middle of the night; it was just a matter of time before she showed up on his doorstep, saying she’s looking for an exorcist.

(She didn’t mind he looked like a mess; sure, hot mess, but still a mess. He appreciated it, even if her wandering gaze was amusing. She looked adorable when she was pretending she hadn’t been staring at his back.)

“Alright, dad.” he said, leaning against her fridge and feeling suspiciously at home. “You can come out. We’re alone.”

He could sense a presence in front of him, meaning Theodore decided to show up.

“This is fifth time this year.” he said casually, playing with a teaspoon that was lying nearby. “Fifth time!”

“I just want you to be happy, my son.” the ghost whispered faintly, so faintly someone else would easily not hear it. “Is that a crime?”

“It’s not a crime, but it’s annoying.” Oswald said. “Look, you have to let me live my own life. Stop playing a matchmaker.”

“You spent your childhood alone, my son.” the ghost whispered. “I don’t want you to spent the entire life alone. Me and your mother - we left you. I want to see you happy.”

“But I am happy!” Oswald said, more angrily than he intended. “Well, I’m managing.”

“So you’re not happy.” the ghost sighed. “She’s a nice girl, Oswald. I like her.”

“I know you do, dad.” Oswald said softly. “But it’s time for you to go. What happened happened, there are no necromancers in Gotham. Please.”

“No.” the ghost said stubbornly. “I will not go, not yet.”

“Why?” Oswald asked, sighing; they had this conversation many times already.

“Because you’re my only child.” the ghost murmured. “And you’re sad and alone and I won’t find peace. There is no peace for me, not yet.”

“Mother had found peace.” Oswald pointed out.

“Your mother was tortured, my boy. Death… Gave her solace.”

“But don’t you miss her? You’d be with her if you just… Left.”

“I miss her dearly.” the ghost said sincerely and Oswald sighed, remembering the way his parents used to hold hands. “And so I know what loneliness feels like. And I don’t want you to feel this way your entire life, just because we’re gone.”

“And so we’re back to where we started.” Oswald sighed, putting the teaspoon down and sliding his hands into his pockets. “Fine. What do you want me to do? What will bring you peace… Dad?”

“This is a nice girl.” the ghost murmured stubbornly. “Intelligent. Caring. You’d be happy with her.”

(Oswald would be lying if he said he didn’t consider asking her out at least once.)

“She’s not my type.” he said and the ghost of his father scoffed.

“Please, son, don’t lie to me. You know how this works.”

“Unfortunately… I do.” Oswald admitted. “Fine. I’ll try. Will you stay on the other side if I do?”

“Show me a dinner receipt and we can negotiate, young man.”

“...for fuck’s sake, dad, don’t make me throw salt at you.”

*** Charlie was in her bedroom upstairs, as Oswald was chatting up her ghost; she was sitting on her bed reading Anna Karenina when she heard him outside.

“I’m here!” she called out and he entered her bedroom, briefly looking around.

(Her face briefly turned red when she realized her panties are hanging from a nearby chair; but he seemingly didn’t notice anything.)

“There’s no good way of saying this.” he said carefully, staring at her intently. “But don’t worry, it’s nothing overly serious. It’s just… Complicated.”

“I already love the sound of that.” she sighed, putting her book away. “I feel like I should have stayed in New York.”

“Why?” he asked, crossing his arms on his chest; she suddenly felt the urge to get up, walk up to him and fix his messy hair; but she fought it off.

“Because we don’t have ghost there. And we have more exorcists there, paradoxically.”

“Well, just like I said.” he said, shrugging nonchalantly, not taking his eyes off her. “We have Batman here. People don’t have the energy to care about their ghosts.”

“Yeah, well, I’m from a civilized part of the world. Now tell me what should I do.”

“You’re from New York.” he said with a lazy smirk. “That’s an opposite of civilization.”

“You know, I’d probably kill you, if it wasn’t for the fact you’d probably come back to haunt me.”

“Of course I’d come back!” Oswald said with another shrug. “I’m an exorcist. I know all the tricks in the book. I’d probably haunt you forever.”

He grinned at her and she giggled, covering her mouth. He was funny, easy to talk to and very, very handsome; for a moment she wondered what’s his policy on close relationships with clients.

“Alright, but seriously.” she said, looking him in the eye. “What should I do?”

“Go out with me.” Oswald said calmly and Charlie raised her eyebrows, not amused with his supposed joke.

(She was attracted to him, and she could imagine a one night of fun, after a brief game of cat and mouse; but that was very straightforward.)

“In relation to my ghost, I meant.” she said, trying to hide how flustered she was. Oswald sighed.

“That’s what I meant. That is, of course, if you want to. If you don’t… Say it out loud, and the ghost will leave.”

“Mister Cobblepot-”

“Oswald. Or… Oz.”

“Oswald. What the fuck? I’m not going out with someone resorting to cheap tricks.” she said faintly; it all sounded very unreal and didn’t make any sense. Was he lying? Of course he was, she decided; he only showed an interest in her after seeing her house, the proof of her wealth.

“Please, let me explain.” he pleaded; and for a moment he looked like a kicked puppy.

She gave up.

“Alright. Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“You’re being haunted by the ghost of my father, Theodore Cobblepot.” Oswald said matter-of-factly. “Ever heard of the Cobblepot family?”

“There’s a park, right?” she finally realized. “The Cobblepot Park.”

He nodded.

“Yes. My family built it. I am the last Cobblepot alive, after… After what happened.”

His voice cracked for a moment and he looked away, crossing his arms tightly.

“My mother passed to the other side.” he said, seemingly calm again. “But my father… Is plagued by guilt. He committed suicide; and he feels like he left me alone. And he doesn’t want me to be alone.”

“How am I supposed to know if you’re telling the truth?” she asked faintly and he sighed.

“We could just ask him.” he stated. “Hey, dad! You heard the lady.”

She saw her favorite lipstick float and she let out a desperate gasp.

“No, not this one!” she pleaded; the lipstick stopped. “Just… Hold on. I’ll get you pen and paper, alright?”

Theodore’s ghost set the lipstick down, as she pulled out a notepad and a pencil.

“Alright.” she said. “Is Oswald telling the truth?”

“Yes.” the ghost wrote. “He is.”

“I’ve only known him for less than a day though.” she pointed out.

“Give me a chance.” Oswald said; the ghost started to write something, but Oswald hastily pushed a notepad aside and slipped the pencil into his pocket. “And ignore my old man. He’s feeling chatty all of a sudden.”

“So.” Charlie said, trying to make some sense of this bizarre situation. “I can either tell you to fuck off… Or go out with you?”

“That is correct, yes.” Oswald said, running his fingers through his hair. “And I realize this is a… Weird situation and I apologize. Just tell me to fuck off. Loudly. Explicitly. So there’s no doubt left.”

She looked at him, standing in her bedroom - tall, handsome man she’ve known for less than twenty four hours, who came to her home to talk to a ghost haunting her, and who apparently had more than one ghost he couldn’t run away from.

He had a lot of sadness in his eyes and he lived in a tiny, dark flat above the art shop in Gotham’s poorest district; and in a heartbeat she realized she can see herself developing feelings for him - even though she barely knew him.

(Part of her just knew. Part of her just felt it.)

“Let’s go out.” she said instead and he blinked a few times. “You heard me. Let’s go out. Let’s give your old man some credit for his steadfast efforts at matchmaking.”

“I knew you won’t be able to resist my charms.” Oswald said, quickly regaining his confidence, giving her a cheeky grin. “No one is.”

“...your what?” she asked innocently and he snickered.

“Ah. Touché.”

***

They went on a number of first dates, actually - because Oswald very conveniently kept “losing” proofs the ghost of his father wanted to see. He kept “losing” receipts and movie tickets and photos - but the truth was, he didn’t lose anything; he kept everything in many pockets of his weathered coat.

He felt like this is going to end once his father’s ghost is dead; he felt like this is just a business arrangement, and once it’s all over - a kiss on the cheek and a kick in the ass.

And good lord he didn’t want it to end, this thing that was slowly developing, between accidental touches and shyly intertwined fingers and coy kisses. He both didn’t want it to end and he wanted it to advance at light speed, to get them to that part where they can drag their nails across the other one’s back and cover each other’s skin in hungry kisses.

He saw the way she looked at him. She thought she’s so smart, so quick; but he saw everything. The way she sometimes couldn’t take her eyes off his profile and they way his gestures made her lips curl in a blissful smile and the way her eyes would sometimes get fixated on his fingers.

And he hoped she sees the way he looks at her the way; because sometimes he’d get lost in her image, the skin of her neck, the way her hair curled on her cheeks, the shape of her lips and her long, delicate lashes. He knew she’s made of anything but glass; but he still wanted to be gentle with her.

(Or not. Depends on what she was into; but something told him gentle - infuriatingly gentle - is the way to go.)

But eventually - after their tenth or so first date - the time had come for Oswald to face his father one more time; Charlie insisted on it, as she parked the car in the garage.

“I feel like I’m being watched.” she complained. “And I don’t like it! It feels weird. I need some alone time, you know?”

“Oh, I can imagine.” he said playfully, trying to hide how anxious he felt. “Just you, and your imagination… Am I on your mind often?”

“More often than you suspect.” she purred and his heart skipped a beat for a moment.

(She was on his mind quite often when he was alone and only had his own company. She and her voice and her smile. Ah, that woman and her devilish ways, hidden beneath coy smiles and giggles.)

“Come on.” she rushed him, yanking him out of his bedsheet gripping focused dreamworld. “Let’s get this over with. How much I owe you?”

“What?” he asked absentmindedly and she snickered. “Oh. Right. The job. It’s all part of the job.”

“Just part of the job?” she asked flirtatiously and he smiled with poorly hidden relief. “Don’t break my heart like that, mister Cobblepot.”

“I would never.” he assured her softly, as they entered the hall. “But you’re right. Let’s get this over with.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” she said, heading towards the stairs. “Give your father my regards?”

“Will do.” he said with a nod, heading towards the kitchen.

Once he heard the door to her bedroom upstairs close (she was probably changing and for a brief moment he got distracted by the thought of her naked skin in the soft, afternoon light) he cleared his throat.

“I know you’re there.” he said carefully; there was a presence nearby, undoubtedly his father. “We have to talk.”

“Yes.” the ghost whispered. “We have.”

Oswald stood there, hesitating.

The truth was - he didn’t want to let his father go. Now was as good as any time to finally admit it; he didn’t want to let go. Why would he? It was his father, for fuck’s sake, his father who died when Oswald was still a child. The thought of Theodore still looking after him, the thought of him still caring - it was comforting.

He didn’t want to be alone again.

“You’re not alone anymore.” the ghost murmured and Oswald winced. “Right?”

“Right.” he finally admitted, playing with the sleeve of his coat. “I think she might stick around.”

“That’s good.” the ghost said with relief. “Tell me. Tell me about it.”

“What do you want to hear?”

“Everything a father should hear, I suppose.” the ghost said. “I am so sorry, my son, I know-”

“It’s alright.” Oswald interrupted him calmly. “I have to let it go eventually. So. Her.”

He cleared his throat, glancing towards the stairs, to check if she’s not eavesdropping; she was nowhere to be seen.

“Good choice, dad.” he said finally. “I think it’s mutual. She’s funny, she’s smart… And she’s a little devil, under all those sweet smiles. We might balance each other out. I can see her in my future. I can understand why you could see her in my future.”

“You’re not alone, Oswald.” the ghost said lovingly and Oswald sighed.

“No, I’m not.” he finally said. “I’m not alone anymore. You’ve done it.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” his father said, but he sounded sad. “Can we speak to her? I want to tell her something, before I go.”

“Sure.” Oswald said and they headed upstairs; he knocked at the bedroom door and opened it, after hearing a muffled “Come in!”

(Her face was flushed and he cocked his head, wondering if she was doing what he thinks she was doing. Probably yes. That girl.)

“He wants to speak with you.” he said and her eyes widened slightly. “He’s… Almost ready to leave.”

“Alright.” she said hesitantly. “Is he here?”

“Yes.” the ghost said and she jumped, completely unprepared.

“You could talk this entire time?!” she asked indignantly and Oswald turned his head away to hide his grin. “And you decided to use toothpaste instead?!”

“My apologies.” Theodore said carelessly, not sorry at all. “But please, listen to me.”

“I won’t hear it anyway.” Oswald said, still looking out of the window. “He can make it so.”

He never found out what did his father’s ghost tell her; he never asked and she never told him. But she listened intently, nodding from time to time. She listened to every word. As if she cared. As if it was important to her.

It gave him hope.

Finally, the ghost spoke to both of them.

“My task here is done.” he said calmly and Oswald could almost see him, could almost see his transparent, familiar features; but maybe it was just dust particles, dancing in last rays of autumn sunlight. “You’re not alone.”

“He’s not.” Charlie said softly, looking at him from under her long, long lashes. “I’ll make sure of that.”

“And I trust you.” the ghost said. “My boy…”

“Yes?” he said, his throat clenching. “Dad?”

“I love you.” Theodore said gently. “We both do, me and Esther. And we’re so, so proud of you. And we always will, no matter the universe, no matter the events.”

(And for a brief moment, Oswald saw a flash of spilled blood, of a bird skull shaped mask, of running, of hiding, of looking the Bat in the eye and of a string of bad, bad decisions. He winced and instinctively fished out his penguin skull shaped, metal pendant from underneath his shirt; he bought it on a whim on a flea market in London once and it always gave him some weird comfort.)

“I can hear your mother calling.” the ghost said softly. “I… I can see her. She’s waiting for me and she’s smiling… I’m coming, my love.”

He heard footsteps, quieter and quieter, until the silence in the room was only interrupted by quiet breaths.

“He’s gone.” he said finally, his voice cracking. “He’s… Gone. I’m alone again.” he said without thinking.

“No.” Charlie said firmly. “You are not. You have me.”

“Do I?” he asked quietly, looking at her. “Do I really? Or was it all just a part of the job?”

“Are you kidding me?” she asked with a sigh. “We’ve been on ten first dates. I told you more about myself, than I told all my local friends combined. I like you, Oswald. I thought we already established that, by finally giving your father his eternal peace, or however you call it.”

He looked at her silently and she cocked his head and patted the bed.

“Come on. Sit down. We’re… Alone.” she said hesitantly. “Stay the night, Oswald.”

He sat down, still avoiding looking at her. He felt weird - that thing was something new. He never expected it to get so far.

“I really like you.” she said softly, brushing his hand with her fingertips and he sighed and closed his eyes. “Alright?”

“Well, I suppose I like you as well.” he muttered. “Can I kiss you?”

Instead of replying, she leaned in, put her hand on the back of his neck and pulled him in, kissing him. It wasn’t their first kiss; but this time they were alone and only had each other and it turned out her body is as beautiful as he imagined it to be.

His father was gone, but he was not alone, not anymore; and he understood it the next morning, when he woke up in her bed and she was in his arms and it felt perfect, like that was just the way things were meant to be.

Theodore trusted too much and it cost him everything; but this time Oswald felt like his father finally picked the right person to trust.

Only time could tell.

#ff #eng #oc #pinnguin

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becthevet · 7 years ago

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Advice for any vet student beginning to plan their final year rotations:

If you are even remotely entertaining the idea of doing an internship after graduation, do some research early and

Try to get rotations at the practices whose internships you’re interested in

It sounds like common sense right? But it was a bit of common sense I stupidly didn’t think of. Why? Because I had lots of self doubt, hadn’t done any research into internships, and thought that financial constraints would make it impossible

I’m about to graduate and applied for 3 internships so far (I missed some others). Two I got offered interviews for. None resulted in job offers. And I am pretty sure of the two main reasons why:

Two of the practices I didn’t visit

We filled out our final year placement preferences at the end of 3rd year, an entire year before rotations began. I did not do any research into internships until after 5th year started, so didn’t even think properly about where I wanted to go.

Because they were in different states, I could not organise to fly down last minute for the interview I was offered (it was time and financially impossible). If I had gone there in person my chances would have been much better

One (at the uni I attend) was because of my lack of experience compared to other applicants

This ones a bit harder to do stuff about. I wish I’d done more volunteering (social anxiety got in the way for a long time) or attempted to get jobs in veterinary clinics (they’re very competitive though)

If you want to go overseas but finance is holding you back, look into loan schemes. I know for Aussie university students, there is a HELP loan you can apply for that gives you up to $6k for overseas placements and it’s added to your HECS.

It is honestly my biggest regret of final year that I didn’t think to apply for more competitive placements earlier.

But another thing, not getting a job offer straight up is not the end of the world

The most common piece of advice I’ve received from vets this year is take your time finding your first job.

It makes and breaks a lot of people. You want to find a place that will support you and encourage you. Don’t rush it. But also, don’t be afraid to leave if it isn’t right.

This is something else I’m trying to tell myself is good right now, especially off the back of three rejections. It’s back to job searching for me (once scary VIVAs are over in a week and a bit), then a few years experience, and then one day I’ll be applying for internships again.

#vet students #vet school

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sightsoundmusic · 6 years ago

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EXCLUSIVE: Joshua Powell Talks Indianapolis, Stoner Jams & David Lynch

Written by Luke Jaggers

Over the past month we here at Sight & Sound have been obsessed with a singer/songwriter by the name of Joshua Powell. He sent us over his 2019 release entitled Psycho/Tropic and we’ve been enamored with it. We wanted to reach out and get an exclusive look into his life with the band and what he’s looking to accomplish in 2019. We hope you enjoy this interview and his album as much as we did.

In Jaye’s video about your album, you were compared to artists such as Bon Iver, Ben Howard and Sufjan Stevens. I personally hear some From Indian Lakes as well, but my questions are what do you think of those comparisons and also what influences you?

Joshua: I'm cool with those comparisons, especially with Vernon and Stevens because those two have indelibly influenced me. The fact that both of their careers are rooted in lyric-heavy folk tropes that were compounded upon and extrapolated across their discographies. I've followed a similar trajectory and am no stranger to their work. I've only heard a half dozen tunes from the other two artists you mentioned. I don't love 'em, but I like 'em as a friend. My art intake is real heavy and broad, so each record sort sort of has its own council of influences. The ones that have made the longest and deepest marks are Bon Iver, Kanye West, Neil Young, and David Lynch.

That’s interesting that you note David Lynch as an influence. Specifically because a lot of bands don’t look towards other mediums of art to influence their music. Especially after listening to your album I can definitely hear those influences to other pop culture. Is that something you think about deliberately when making your music?

J: Absolutely. I was drifting toward disenfranchisement with music as a medium because of its inherently bifurcated medium of consumption. With music, you make recordings, or you perform live. I was spending a lot of time with other non-musical artists who, it seemed to me, had a much more inspiring, cosmic, holistic view of art. My friend Emily talked to me over a diner breakfast about the body of a dead bat she found for like half an hour. I was enraptured. Turns out it was too small to taxidermy, but the ARTIST (vs the musician I s'pose) sees art everywhere. That's much more sustainable an MO if you ask me. So yes, I'm looking at a lot of cinematic surrealism and horror, reading a lot of classics and philosophy, going to galleries--the creative principles are super transitive if you have an open spiritual ear I think.

With a project that’s so expansive as Psycho/Tropic the production really shines all over the album. Who recorded your album and what was the recording process like for you?

J: Thanks! I think so too! Jonathan Class produced, as he always has for me with only a few exceptions. We worked at Varsity Recording Co. in Anderson, IN, where both of our music careers germinated. I worked with my brothers Jacob (drums) and Adam (guitar), my bandmates with the longest tenure. Their fingerprints are all over the arrangements. Working with Jon is always a total dream because he interprets my visions really accurately. And he becomes the extra band member in the studio. We're also all total goobers and hanging out was effortless. We took our time with it more than we ever have, and that extra care I think really translated into the end product.

Speaking of Indiana, seems like right now we’re seeing a lot of talent get picked up from here and getting noticed. Do you think Indiana is a good place for musicians to create?

J: *laughs* I know, right?! We're coming out of the woodwork! Someone from Wisconsin said the same thing to me the other day! The short answer is hell yes. I believe the Midwest is having it's meta-modern renaissance, and Indy's jockeying to be its palpitating heart, man. If you have an idea, you can make it here. Every month the culture gets weirder, richer, more diverse, more hospitable. The other day I was talking to my poet friend about the Midwest - He was so excited about what was happening in the DIY music scene here, and in the indie booksellers, the small print press and he talked about the vibration that these full rooms have been emanating--this idea that "Something good is about to happen here." And I think that's the spirit of the Midwest. We work hard and we keep hope. We know what we look like sometimes, when our potholes and grey days are held up against the shining LA lights and the happenin' ATX thrall, but we believe in our own capacity, and we trust that what's happening here is real, and big, and good. Every time I think I have a handle on the local scene here, another door opens and I realize just how much is being MADE here, by all sorts of folks. It's the most inspiring place in the world to someone with the right mix of creative pension, inner light, and grit. Shit, I'm getting evangelical over here.

What would you say to someone that's never heard your music before and they're about to listen to it for the first time?

J: If it's an older person, I say, "imagine Neil Young songs played by Pink Floyd." If it's a younger person I say, "It's stoner jams for English majors." I think one of the selling points of our band is that you can listen to it with whatever level of intentionality you bring to the table. I'm told it works as background study music. Some of our heaviest songs lyrically are built to be summery sounding anthems or uptempo rock toe-tappers. But it's also built for repeated listens, in headphones or studio monitors, lying in bed with your eyes closed, or with the lyrics in your hand and a highlighter for annotating. There are layers built into everything, from the connotative references in the lyrics to the way the production elements are panned. It's super deep if you want it to be. But it's also just rock 'n roll.

What do you hope to accomplish in the near future with your album already releasing earlier in the year? Tours planned?

J: Recently, thanks to the help of people like yourself, we're doing the most extensive press campaign we've ever done. Trying to cull fans from the internet because I'm told that's the happenin' place to be these days. But we also, just this week, acquired a new tour van by the fiscal grace of our darling fans who raised over 6k for us on GoFundMe. So starting in April, we're back to hitting the non-digital streets. We have tours planned so far this year with The Outside Voices, Sylmar, and Mister Moon, as well as a busy summer festival schedule, and more plans looming in the lessening shadows of the autumn. We want to bring the new record to as many physical people as we can afford this year, before we start the whole cycle over again. Shaping up to be a busy and beautiful year, and we're excited to keep building on this framework. We also just booked our first national television appearance on PBS that we're shooting in March that will be syndicated everywhere, along with some other great bands like Mike Mains and The Way Down Wanderers, so keep an eye out for that!

I just wanna say personally that your music was such a surprise and we’re so excited to share it with the Sight & Sound audience. Thank you for reaching out to us and sharing this absolutely incredible album with us!

J: Dude! Thank you so much! So pleased y'all connected with it, truly. Thanks for being down to help us spread the word, it makes all the difference.

Psycho/Tropic by Joshua Powell is available on all streaming platforms now.

https://www.facebook.com/joshuapowellmusic/ https://twitter.com/JoshuaPowellGTR

#Joshua Powell #Indianapolis #Pscyho/Tropic #Stoner #Vibes #Music #Indie

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superiormerch-blog · 8 years ago

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Introducing Four Letter Word Coffee

We've been planning on sharing interviews with the roasters we partner with since our inception. Though it took nineteen months to implement, we felt like there was no better time than now to introduce Four Letter Word Coffee, whose multi-national presence is beginning to take hold in the U.S.

Ria Neri has her hands in A LOT of things. She's known for being a beer program director for some of Chicago's best restaurants and beer-centric spaces, she's one half of upstart Chicago beer company Whiner Beer Co. and most importantly to us she's one half of Four Letter Word Coffee. Four Letter Word began as a long-time friendship between Ria and Eylem Ozkaya — it was a great convergence of energies when the pair realized that Eylem's baking/pastry skills worked well with Ria's infinite desire to know more about coffee. Ozkaya had familial ties to Turkey — specifically, an island 35 minutes off the coast of Istanbul named Burgazada. Their dream became reality on the island in 2014, as a café which roasts and serves specialty coffee out of a tiny rectangular space known as Four Letter Word Coffee.

In 2016, Four Letter Word and Whiner Beer Co. began roasting in the U.S. and brewing beer with more than ten businesses by opening up shop in The Plant — an innovative "incubator" space that values closed loop systems. The Plant's long term goals include complete reuse of waste and materials along with the production of energy to power not only the space itself but over two hundred homes in the region. Though still in its beginning stages, Ria can already rattle off ways in which byproducts of coffee roasting and the jute bags that green coffee ships in are being reused throughout the building.

We (accidentally) heard about 4LW through stumbling across the list of folks participating in this year's Uppers and Downers, a beer+coffee focused event held yearly in Chicago, the new and unusual name piqued our interest. Considering Ria has her feet firmly planted in both the specialty coffee and craft beer worlds, forging a connection was a no-brainer. Our number one goal at Superior Merchandise Company is to offer unparalleled + unexpected hospitality for our guests and we can think of few better ways to deliver than by bringing in a roaster that until now could be found only in Chicago + Turkey. Read on to hear about specialty coffee in Turkey, the intersection where coffee and beer meet and Ria's advice for folks interested in getting started in the roasting business:

What brought you to coffee? I drink a lot of coffee, and decided I needed to know more about it. I’ve always been curious about processes, especially those that involve multi-levels of sensory and craft - food & drink. They can be instantly gratifying, once served to you, yet they took multiple steps to get there, with each process of the journey being so important to the end product.

Describe your favorite memory of coffee being served to you: Sitting in a hut in Southwest Ethiopia, no electricity, only fire, stars out at night, sounds of nature, shoes filled with mud, unshowered but happy, drinking traditionally prepared Buna.

How "different" is 4LW's coffee in context with what is being served in Turkey? While we serve the same quality coffees in Turkey, via the same “modern” methods, in Turkey, coffee is more of a social ritual. Our coffee shop stays open until 2AM. 2am? Does it serve alcohol? Nope! Technically we are open until midnight; however, people linger up until 2 am.

Are you incorporating traditional Turkish brewing techniques with newer specialty coffee techniques in service on the island? In Istanbul, sometimes yes. We incorporate traditional Turkish brewing techniques, but utilize better coffees — for instance, instead of a bulk Brazilian Rio Minhas coffee (common in Turkish coffees) we will use a Yirgacheffe, or a coffee from Burundi…etc. We also will play around with grind size, extraction time, etc. But, most people, as I, prefer drinking the traditional Turkish coffee. Most of our guests want a taste of nostalgia more than anything else, and would rather explore specialty coffee through other methods (pourovers…etc). So in Burgazada alongside pourovers and espresso, you are also serving Turkish-style ibrik coffee? We are, yes. It’s not on the menu, however. We tend to have native islanders and traditional older folk ask for them. Can you speak to any of the infrastructure difficulties of running a roastery on an island that doesn't have any motor driven vehicles? Is green coffee tough to move? Yes and no. Logistically it takes a bit more planning — scheduling a ferry for instance is harder than scheduling a truck. But once it's on a boat, with the help of able-bodied people on the island, it’s a breeze. Any wild stories about operating a specialty coffee business there? Lots of cats. It’s not just people watching anymore. Big cats catnapping little cats, seriously, and then taking off your barista apron because you’re having to chase after them so the little ones stay safe. How difficult was it to transition from roasting on a Geisen 6K roaster (in Turkey) to a Probat 12K roaster (in the U.S.)? Not so difficult. The Giesen was the first roaster I have ever roasted on, so that in itself was already challenging. I was learning “how to” roast, but at the same time learning about the machine itself. Having gone through all that, when I was faced with a Probat, the transition was very smooth, the Probat is more manually driven & very intuitive, which is the way I love to work.

Can you pinpoint and discuss a moment on your roast learning timeline where you felt like you'd made a major breakthrough? I feel like it was not any single moment, but I think the major breakthrough was once I established my own system on paper wherein I was able to visually compare data and make decisions based on them. There are so many variables in roasting, and I was able to isolate each one of them in my head, however, until I was able to put those pieces together, it helped me make sense of the puzzle’s big picture. We do use Cropster, besides, and it’s a very useful tool to keep the findings based on my system consistent. Any advice for folks just starting out with roasting? Don’t be scared. And buy great green coffee. It does not matter how “perfect” you roast it if what you begin with is bad. Can you detail your most surprising revelation when visiting a coffee producing territory? Sounds cliché, but very true — how much I don’t know and still need to learn. Each origin is different. Every visit I come armed with new questions, develop questions while I’m there and leave with other new questions. Lots of questions always. Being a new/small roaster, can you speak on what you believe your role in being present at origin is? There’s a sense of gratitude that is exchanged between roasters & producers that is especially motivating to both parties; that human connection helps me to be more mindful and do things better.

What made you decide to package Four Letter Word's coffee in 10oz retail bags? I think that 10oz bags allow for more variety of open coffee bags at home, without the risk of one getting older before it’s finished. Especially with single origins, those coffees are more about exploration, and you know, maybe I feel like going to Burundi one morning, maybe Honduras another.

Your bags are the first bags we've placed on our shelves that don't have the actual roaster name spelled out on the front! Clearly this isn't a mistake — I suspect it speaks more to your desire to let the coffee speak for itself? Tell us about this decision! I’m pretty minimal and I love when simplicity can make a statement. I suppose that I wanted the bags to stand out on their own, force a sort of mystery on the consumer, hopefully encouraging them to pick up and ask about it, without being distracted by a brand name, and stimulating conversation. Can you talk about any similarities or differences between the specialty coffee industry and the craft beer industry? What I love about both industries is the sincere interest from the audiences on the product you produce, like an appreciation from both parties which is reciprocal. Once again there is this product that is a catalyst for human connection and interaction. Non-flattering criticisms also welcome. In what ways does your experience as a beer program director/buyer come into play as a green coffee buyer/leader at 4LW? When I was (still am) a beer buyer, I bought beer based on: quality & where it came from (which brewery, which brewer, their philosophy). I do the same with coffee. 4LW's visual aesthetic is kind of the polar opposite to Whiner — the former being stately & thoughtful, the latter being fun and whimsical. Were these intentional choices when bringing these brands to life? Not intentional, it was more organic. They are a statement of merged personalities, I think. 4LW — Eylem (my 4LW partner) is classical, where I am more of a minimalist. I brought that simple, minimal aesthetic to Whiner and combined it with Brian’s (my Whiner partner) bright & animated charm. As loud as the cans are, the illustrations are very simple. Your description on the Good Beer Hunting podcast of wanting to share/create "WHOAments" (great term, by the way!) — is that your singular, driving force for your businesses? A WHOAment is that time when you flip on your chair after an encounter with a seemingly familiar product or thing or idea that completely changes everything you have ever perceived about it. I love sharing my “WHOAments” — seeing others experience theirs, therefore changing their lives (or palates) forever. And re-living my WHOAments in return. How much collaboration is there in each 4LW and Whiner? Are both 50/50 with each respective partner? Full collaboration, yes. We respect and trust each others skills. And lastly, what is the best piece of advice someone has ever given you? Always be patient and listen to music. Thanks Ria! We look forward to having your coffee on bar from March to April!

#Four Letter Word Coffee #Ria Neri #Chicago #Superior Partners

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spacegaywritings · 4 years ago

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Warming Paws and Melting Walls (6/8) “Queer Voices”

Summary: Remy has a lazy day after his hard and long day at work. Virgil is very glad to be with him and comment on his shenanigans as much as a cat can.

Tags: human = slave for a cat, mentions of pets eating humans, mentions of cat scratches, Remy going worst case scenario of “lmao cat might kill me”, mentions of blood, wtf remy seriously, criticising the world, hating on rich people, fuck reality tv, remy has weird thoughts, migraines, chronic pain gang, medication-induced dummy thoughts, questioning the world, microphones, singing, weird echo distortion, auditive triggers (described), eating, silly dummy, soft cat shenanigans, remy is a soft owner

I do not think there is any to be applied. If you need me to add anything, please contact me here or on my tumblr (spacegayparty, spacegaywritings)

ao3: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 // all.

tumblr: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 (you are here) / 7 / 8.

My KoFi - Support me ♥ or Commission me

Remy flopped his body back down onto the couch. He had just about left his bed and done the most essential actions to start a day.

“Virgilius kitty catticus”, he called lowly, laying flat on the couch.

His legs were sprawled out like the seductive lover in a peculiar pose... or any liquid simply taking up as much space as they could. Yeah, he classified to be the latter, if any. This was to put it nicely. He did not look loving or seductive at all. His body was about as tempting as a greased bucket of expired fat for frying fries. For a more trained eye, he might have resembles a starfish with his limbs facing away from him and stretching wide and far into the world as if to get as much exposure to air and light as possible. Maybe he was some kind of starfish-lover-grease-plant.

Yes, he was a really super special plant and he shall live like this!

Immobile, comfortable, unfit for work and cared for by nature only. Not to speak of how he refused to care for anything and anyone either.

Didn’t everyone aspire to be a nice house plant? Like a house cat! Now he and Virgil could be more than friends - bestest friends... perhaps even bitches in crime.

They would absolutely trash the household by demanding a lot of care and just throwing out some dirt. If he was a plant with mobile or flexible limbs under his control, he could knock things from counters like the void did. Remy definitely learned how much cats seemed to enjoy playing into gravity’s power. Virgil was a never-ending source of knocking random things off the counter, off the shelves and tables and whatever else they could find.

“Virgiiiiiil~”

Remy had accepted his fate: he was hosting a little demon kitten, a spoiled mini Queen expecting royal treatment when he was just a humble worker who bitched at idiotic people.

Why, oh why-

As he laid there, drama overcoming him, existential dread rumbled in his guts. The hunger from going without sustenance for a whole night consumed his being, Virgil finally made their way over to them and decided to give him a lovely greeting. His migraine-ridden head was met with the sudden impact of a whole furry kitty skull just crashing against it.

Instantly, pain exploded in his mind, his brain pressing against his skull from the inside and pounding wildly. Throbbing agony painted his features and he groaned, his face distorting to present the mask of a broken man, hopeless for any improvement. It was not that the area Virgil had bonked their head against was hurting more. No, it was like touching a bubble and destroying the whole of it in the process.

“Ughh...”

His voice was tired and, his brows heavy and lethargic from the constant anguish pushing him into the ground. At the same time, his head felt detached from reality. It was an unreal experience.

The pain was present, persistent and heavy on him as it crushed his appetite. While his body demanded food, it also demanded him to stay off any intake of nutritions via mouth. Nausea washed over him and he felt warm , uncomfortably hot even. Sweat seemed to break over his miserable, physical vessel and he pressed his lips together in regret, not even daring to think about opening it. He felt feverish but knew he was not. He had tested it several times.

He had to stop thinking.

Thinking hurt.

“ d’s hur’s...”, he mumbled incoherently.

Neither his head nor his lips wanted to do the talking at the moment. Sounds hurt, too.

The man wanted to tell the little bitchy kitten that head bonks - while affectionate - were painful when he had bad migraines. He wanted to explain himself to the little creature who would just meet his torture with the inability to understand him. Even if the kitty tried, they would be unable to ever understand his words as he meant them. Virgil learned by context.

Realising the kitten got no head pats in return or any other sorts of physical affection, the little void pawed at his face and gently nudged their head against Remy’s once more.

It was gentle, this time.

“Mrow!”, the cat argued.

Remy wanted to shake his head but feared the nausea would become even worse. The little soft nudge was.. endearing. The tender displays of affection did not heal him but it helped, it eased him. It was nice to know the kitten did not understand but still reacted to him, still cared and was there at once when he decided to call for them.

Remy was brave enough to swallow his nausea. He shifted experimentally.

Huh.. fine. It was kinda fine, right now.

The nausea was just out of reach and he took the chance to quickly shift to his side and turn his whole body over. Remy gently patted the couch and patiently waited for the little kitten to follow him. His face was in the same space, just facing the other side.

He was unusually off-fashion. His boxers were basically all his pyjamas, his shirt was a loose shirt from the women’s section. It was barely gracing over his features, loosely falling onto his skin.

Listen, he looked especially pretty with his hips showing a bit.

“Huhww...”, he whined in pain.

HIs eyes shut automatically. It was good that eyes had the reactive mechanism of closing when light hurt too much. With the little bits of light that intruded home shut out , he curled further around the kitten. Virgil gently nudged his chin and stretched into his arms. Pushing the little head into his palm, they received little head scritches once more and he gently caressed the kitten’s small chin.

His pain killers should kick in soon. He was so glad that special medication for migraines existed... if he was lucky, they would just knock him out and he would wake up in a bit, lacking pain and nausea at all and feeling so much better. One day, he wanted to feel like a person would feel when waking up in the morning: free, fresh and ready to seize the day.

Remy soon drifted off to sleep. The comforting feeling of his Queen of Salt tapping his hip bones was one of the most assuring actions one had ever performed on him. They curled up in his arms, right next to him. In solidarity to one another, the two eventually drifted into a respectful and hopefully healing nap.

A few hours passed and magically, Remy woke up. His body was heavy and his energy levels ran low. Instinctively, he rolled onto his side and rubbed his eyes.

The process was.. not just as smooth.

As he started to roll over, a little resistance could be felt next to him and he felt the intense heat on his chest suddenly be exposed to the much cooler air around him.

Remy’s head was still heavy when he turned and he could feel his mind draw a painfully sneaking blank. Thinking was a drop-by-drop process compared to quickly pouring liquid from one into another container. But when he blinked, looking around and not seeing the familiar Overlord of Darkness, he knew there was a problem.

Oh- Oh, Virgil.

“aw.. sorry Virg”, he mumbled.

St once, he moved off the squeaking kitty and sighed. Holy fuckery, he was more than glad he had not tried to roll over the kitten. This could have ended in the worst possible ways. Surprised at himself, he blinked.The kitten complained and nastily pushed their tail into his face in revenge. Yeah, the one and only Queen of Salt was right then and there. If they acted like this, they were obviously all up and healthy.

Oh, and would you look at this. His nausea was almost entirely gone. The rest persisting in his throat and stomach was probably the greedy claw of hunger.

Cat + pain-free state = happy Remy.

“Aw, kitty”, Remy cooed and gently pulled the crabby bean into his arms, cradling them close.

Virgil meowed in protest but it was a formality rather than a wish. When Remy got up, they decided to stay put and curl up against his chest once more, the inviting warmth winning over even the the charcoal grumpy cat. If they had been truly enraged about him squeezing them by accident, they would have given Remy an actual taste of pain.

“Meow”, they mumbled in return and Remy kissed their head.

“Yeah, sorry for the wait. You and I are getting food right now”

He carefully got up, minding his step and circulation as he made his way into the kitchen with calculated movements. Whenever he got a bit further, he identified the next space he could lean against or a corner he could slide down from. Just in case his body was “too weak” and prissy with him to make it over to the kitchen and stay loyal to him while making a meal.

Remy should get a walking stick.

Eventually, he got over, took his supplements to further ward off migraines, dizzy spells and many other issues his existence was pained with. Cramps and muscle twitches. Those were those bitches!

Virgil was down at his feet, not daring to wander the counters when he would cook. They knew better than to do so. The kitchen was basically off-limits for feral cat shenanigans of jumping and dumping anything they would find interest in.

Within a few minutes, Remy and Virgil were snuggled up on the couch, lazy breakfast in his hands and kitten sprawled over his leg, nibbling at a little snack he had gifted them.. well, as a treat. Also, the cat just needed to eat, okay? The cat was contently purring on his leg, basically massaging it with the stubborn vibrations radiating off of them. They were happily chewing on a bit of meat Remy had placed on a napkin for them. He himself was stretched out under a thin yet fluffy blanket, as black as his soul. With that, he meant that it was a dark, shimmery blue that looked almost as dark as raven yet shone like charcoal and reflected the light blue-ly enough for him to call it blue. Every now and then, it would look like a cave of darkness when from other angles, it would look like a mysterious shade of blue.

A bit like the vast universe.

The official cat owner pushed his eggs aside with his fork and let said cutlery rest abandoned on his plate as he finally gave up on eating. This whole breakfast thing might not have been exactly his type of life.

Eating at 11 am was... illegal. Too early. A true abomination. Who would do anything like this? What kinda fucking bitch even invented this sort of activity? This was torture, not a fucking luxury!

Mornings were there to either work or sleep forever.

Remy groaned.

Virgil seemed to have passed out on his left thigh, a whole bundle of raven fur curled up next to him and halfway covering up his own body - even warming it. This cat was probably the only person he ever wanted to see in the morning. Or even interact with.

Yeah, fuck everyone and everything else. It was “No social, only Virgil” - his new life motto.

Seriously, now. This little monster was probably the only creature allowed to breathe around him during mornings. He detested mornings but during migraine days, he could not bear to be existent - oh, this was another level of hatred he bore in his angy heart.

Mornings were the worst because he had to take medication, sleep away half the day and then still be in at least a bit of pain. Yet the idea of Virgil lazily purring on him without annoying him, without demanding attention or needing anything? Now this was true luxury if he ever knew any! Being himself was already a luxury and he paid a lot for it with sweat, pain and an angelic patience to never spill scalding hot coffee over other people when they dared to annoy him during his most painful episodes.

Remy pushed his food away, plate immediately deserted on the other side of the couch. If he dared to as much as move a bit more to the front, he would have to lean in closer and move his upper body. This was too much work. Cancelled.

With Virgil cuddled up on his thigh, head literally resting close to his hip, he would quite frankly crush the little kitten or trap them at the very least. He did not want to disturb or even hurt the little void. Come to think of it, he could not stand the thought of it even in the slightest. The little beast getting hurt was also illegal. This was his favourite bitch and he would not just let them get hurt. Under no circumstances, especially if he could prevent it by any means.

His body curled around the little blob of black as if they were about to get hurt and only their close physical contact was able to save them both from tremendous trouble. Remy shielded the little spark of joy in his life.

However, the kitten was about as sympathetic as always and grumbled in response.

“Meow!”

Virgil looked at him. Remy blinked back, dace unmoving.

“Shut up, I am loving you right this fuck.. the.-...the f u ck now.”

He cleared his throat and, again, blinked back at the Queen of Salt who slowly blinked at him. They pushed Remy’s annoying appendages away and nudged themself into a more comfortable position within their owner’s arms. Once completely satisfied, the cat continued purring like the motor they were.

“There you go, sassy snitch.”

The tired man commented, a small chuckle erupting from his throat. A warmth started spreading in his chest again, filling him from the inside. Virgil fuelled themself with their persistent purrs in order to produce more and more heat and vibrations.

This was a circle of heaven.

On one hand, it was a bit like rich people going to these fancy salons so they would look a bit less shit and also much more artificial. Somehow it was a big fucking trend for some fashion victims to look the least human possible and resemble plastic more than anything else. That or maybe some horror creatures.

Remy had no more than cynical eyebrow raises left when he saw shows coming up that presented these people like on a plate of food. Dehumanising, really. Society made people hate themselves for being people and looking like fucking people. As if anything about mean, horrifying mask faces were anything people wanted to see or talk about. The viewers were probably all thirsting after a big old cup of tea because they would definitely not get a tall glass of water in these trying times of reality TV or whatever this bitchy excuse of bullshit was called.

“Meow.”

“Yes, Virgil, Totally think so, too.”

This, this was it. Those interactions were all he needed to make him feel... complete. He felt.. rich but in the more sensible and less extremely insane way. He was not materially watch. Ha, suck it “Material Girl”. No, he was emotionally enriched by Virgil’s presence. It was another kind of fancy and luxurious since it pleased his soul rather than his need to be loved by others. He was blessed and warmed with the love and closeness of a little creature that enjoyed him being around.

Somewhat at least.

“I love you, little kitty cat. You are the right kinda bitch.”

Okay, LISTEN. Virgil did not try to eat him in his sleep yet so he might was well consider them best buddies, given that the cat had so many opportunities to slice him open and drink his blood until he was dead and the little hellspawn was satisfied but instead they were simply cuddling up to him all the time. Maybe they were just tolerating him but they were doing a pretty good job and pretending to care about his ass whenever he was not moving a lot or literally suffered greatly.

Virgil turned to him, blinking ever so slowly, “mrow?”

Yeah, that was all the evidence needed. Virgil loved him and he deserved it because he was a truly rich bitch who worked for his shit and did not try to look like plastic or be scary. Wow, rich people were so scary with their weird needs and urges and deeds... He would never get over plastic faces and that was his last word on this topic. This sudden realisation kinda hit him hard. Like, even in that slow, numbed and dull conscious, he saw the dots, observed the connections and got to a surprising conclusion of people being plastic and this being very weird.

Striking thoughts, clearly. Or maybe he was just being ..confused..Uh, what was he thinking about? Oh man.. It felt like he has had a major mental break through about whatnot - maybe, Kim Kardashian’s ass and how he can achieve his butt to be just as thicc.

The man shook his head, letting all the confusing thoughts leave his head. He shook them off like the wetness of an umbrella after coming in from a rainy day. Outside, the world was pretty silent and not a single sound other than Virgil’s sing-song purrs lulling him into comfort could be heard. He was a chronic pain bitch, he made sure to never have too many sounds around which was why his hobbies were silent and boring, mostly.

Still, Virgil loved him. They really did because they bonked their head against Remy’s hip bone, once more. There was no pain, only ore head scritches for the little kitty.

He closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath. It smelled of love, of warmth and hugs. How were these valid scents? Because he smelled them, honey, that is literally all it needed to qualify.

“You are perfect, little kitty.”

The two cuddled for a bit longer, Remy’s thoughts drifting slowly. His mind was on a ride on one of these slow merry-go-rounds. It was delirious, magical. Thoughts brushed over him like a breeze, one after the other passing him and tickling his imagination until one would stick with him for long enough. Instead of just passing by, it was more like bumping him and making him look at this thought content in particular.

Music.

For some reason, the idea of nice calming melody was the worst to ever happen to him but maybe a peppy song would get his spirits back up and work down the soreness from being stuck in a morning, still. The idea was so alluring, he felt his heart beat in excitement.

Virgil rose their head.

Remy cradled them close, picking them up and settling them on his chest. Arms were still wrapped around the little void.

Instinctively, he got up, his body sweeping over the floor. His toes were numb to the feeling of the ground and his mind saw nothing but his task. As always, the warmth of the void was close to his chest and keeping him warm as the loyal little disaster they were. They curiously looked around as the flat passed by him. It was so natural for them to be close and go to any place together, Remy felt as if their auras would melt together.

“Meow?”, the cat inquired curiously.

There was such an innocence in their deeds. Apparently, they realised a bit of a change at the very least. They looked over his shoulder as they only ever did when they just arrived here for the first time. Or, well, would be new to any other area they went to together. Virgil knew where they were but something about Remy’s actions seemed to spark a sense of novelty.

The cat meowed again, a larger chunk of excitement swinging in their voice as Remy did not acknowledge the first attempt at communication they had proposed.

“Meow!”

The persistent meowing grabbed the determined man’s attention and Remy settled in his room, in front of a box, little charcoal monster in his lap.

“What do you want, Queen? Is my body not soft enough for your royal ass?”, he teased softly as one of his hands settled on their head.

Fingers entangled in the fur and gently scritched the areas around their ears.

Virgil leaned in. Their head rested in his hand and they simply relished in the soft touches and rewarded their obedient owner with a low purr.

“Oh, what is that? Are you happy now? Are you happy, now that I give you more attention?”, Remy asked softly, his voice prickling in amusement yet being overall subtle rather than pushy, “You are just the best little kitty, V.”

“Memrrroww!”

Remy got lost in the little void looking up at him, neck craning to accommodate the new angle. They blinked ever so slowly. A snail would move faster from one end of the street to another than Virgil would when taking the time to blink at him. It was sort of amusing, really. Remy read it was some kind of display of affection. It was endearing for sure. The owner knew because Virgil’s snuggling up to his palm and purring out “meow”s was something to make his heart feel.. warm and.. and right in his chest.

Things felt right.

Then it occurred to him.

The box.

He had come here for a reason, not for nothing. There was a sense of determination lighting up his heart just as much as his love for the little bundle of black salt in his lap.

His unoccupied hand carefully lifted the box’s lid and let it slide down until it arrived on the ground with a dull sound. At once, the vibrations in the air ceased, the soft sounds of purring abruptly stopping as if the internal cat programme to keep it running crashed and failed to recover. The kitten moved its head to follow the sudden intrusion of the sound. Their ears were up, sharp and indignant at the sheer audacity of a noise around them when they did not personally and officially approve of it to exist here at this time.

However, at least the cat did not hiss or anything. They just looked for a bit while Remy reached into the box, intent guiding his blind hands.

Virgil stared into the box for another moment before their ears slowly retreated to their more relaxed state and the kitten allowed themself to nudge Remy’s hand again. With one hand in the box, he only had one more to actively stroke the thunder cloud in his lap. He gladly took the opportunity to gift the small beast with a few more scritches, his hand travelling to their shin to gently stroke and scratch it with as little force as possible in order for the feline monster to be appeased with his actions.

They were.

Virgil let the weight of their head be carried by Remy’s patient hand while the other rummaged in the box the cat has already lost interest in.

What. A. Fool.

His free hand wrapped around the pole-like shape, his fingers gracing the cool material. Ah, finally. He pulled at it until he had retreated his hand enough to reveal the object to broad daylight. It shone a bit, almost as if to mimic the metal it wanted to be made of. He pulled up the slender object, the weight enough to tell him he had something in his hands. It was light but not enough to make him forget about the fact he was holding something. The object’s shape was clear and direct. A few simple touches told him he was right.

His eyes were not needed in this point. He could tell it was the desired object without being able to see through the muffled darkness of the little storage. It was dark, it was always dark where he lived and got to control the dimness of the light.

“I got ya, bitch.”

Virgil gave him a look for a moment but he had only eyes and hands for the object. By now, he was “inspecting” it with both hands.

The weight was low enough for his noodle arms to get it easily without any exhaustion. Even with barely any food in him, he was capable. Okay, sure, he worked out but he was not that strong. A sandwich was probably just as heavy as this object. Remy pulled it against his chest with a sense of satisfaction washing over him. A proud smile adorned his features and he glanced back down at the Queen of Salt in his lap. Something within him told him that the furry friend by his side would understand what he just did, would feel what he had in mind.

For now, he was saved by the cat’s sweet and sour ignorance.

They were like a little child. Not knowing much about the world yet being so eager and amazed at every little novelty they deemed to be a true wonder and a wonder only, for it was revolutionising the world for them. Probably, it was.

They did not know it just yet, but there was a big big miracle approaching them. Virgil was about to get to know a very natural yet artificial wonder very soon, Remy would make sure of that. As their caretaker, it was sort of his job to teach them about the good and the bad of the world. This lesson would be the perfect middle ground of morals and societal standards.

Or maybe just his own opinions... Yeah, maybe rather that, considering he did not really give too many fucks about society as it was.

Remy pocketed the middle-sized item (it reminded him a large amount of a torch) and got his little kitty cat into his arms before getting up. Together, they returned to the cozy living-room. They cozied up together and the owner got his phone out and ready.

“Virgil, be a dear, entertain me”, he softly requested before making a little “click” sound with one of his hands.

The kitten whipped their head around, staring into the source of sound that happened to be their miserable excuse of a human servant. With a cautious “meow” coming from them, they leaned in, tail standing still and body tense. Even their ears stood very firm.

Remy barely breathed when he clicked his tongue in thought.

“Yo, Queen, calm ya kitty senses. It is a fun surprise. Promise, honey.”

They eased a bit, sitting down onto their little void butt with their eyes intensely looking at the source of sound, despite it being gone for so long. Reassurance did not reach through their raven fur.

“Be a good kitty, come on”, he suggested as he brushed a hand through their endlessly dark fur. The sassy child complied, carefully purring into his palm. As usual, they pushed their head closer. The trust was big between them. Virgil shut their eyes effectively and purred on, for longer, for louder.

It was the time, it really was.

Remy pulled his own arm closer to his chest, the microphone in his hand. It was active, activated and more than ready for this - just as he was.

If there was any pain or discomfort left within him, he was invincible and ignorant to it since the mere idea of his little plan becoming reality has him in the sweet ecstasy of hyperfocusing.

Everything but his objective and the required tools became invisible to him.

Virgil purred and suddenly, without warning for the little salty royal, the sound of their own purr echoed back to them in an odd, distorted manner. The object threw sound back at them because it was a microphone. Said microphone gave a high-pitched feedback in return, leaving the cat awestruck.

Despite the soft cuddles and little encouraging nudges, they remained silent. Their doll-like, spheric orbs widened and their jaw locked at the weird noises. The cat’s whole posture was simply the shadow of a scare and the embodiment of confusion. If Remy did not know better, he would call them a boomer for the look on their face that could best be described as disgust.

“You okay there, kitty? Do you hate me and life now? Do you hate your wife- ”

They eyed the man for a moment, a hint of bewilderment in their intense eyes. Virgil seemed to smell the bullshit that was Remy calling them a boomer, maybe even a Karen. In reality, the cat was more than right! Someone get the manager of dummy thicc kitty-slaves!

This was heresy! No, it was CARESY! How dare this poorly-made, human-encouraged machine of deafening sounds be alive and working around this cat and even throw back their royal noise with cheap, messed-up pitches? This was a crime!

The perfect balance of demanding and adorable was lost to the heartless machine.

“Mrrrrrr”

Virgil started vrooming in spite.

They frankly produced a sound between a growl and a purr. Remy did not know what it was. He was sure not even Virgil knew what kind of sound exactly they were making and had it not been for the microphone, he would not have even heard it. However, with the useful device, the sound was amplified and came back in an echoing mess of sounds that layered over one another, wavering and stumbling over each other in their heightened pitch as they fought to reach one’s eardrums before the others.

Distorted echoes and overlapping noises vibrated their way into his hazy mind. Virgil squinted at the atrocious object before the.

He giggled.

“Virgil, listen to yourself, you silly void!”

His suggestion fell to deaf ears. Virgil’s ears were, in fact, moving and in place to detect the danger of the intrusive sounds, the loud and sudden shit to bother them in their comfortable existence.

They wrapped their paws around the microphone, both “arms” slinging around it and holding it in place. The microphone was just a finger away from the kitten’s wet nose. The patting sounds was amplified. Rustling occurred, scratching Remy’s and Virgil’s glorious hearing senses.

They stared again. Remy stared too, his eyes captivated by the sudden turn of events happening before him.

“Hey, little storm cloud, what are you doing?”

The cat continued, thrashing the microphone and letting out an actual growl at this point. Louder pats and could were vocalised by the poor, abused microphone.

The dummy duo paid with their hearing abilities. Holy fuck.

“MeoooooooOOOW!”

The sound grew louder at the end, forcefully so. It was a powerful establishment of dominance on Virgil’s part. How would the microphone react? Stay tuned for the nex- OKAY The microphone obviously echoed the whole thing back right on impact, leaving Virgil to retreat their head yet not their stubborn paws.

The cat had licked blood and it was not going to give up not. Not in front of their new enemy!

All the while, Remy decided to be wise enough and retreat his hand from the slightly feral-ing cat.

It was a matter of time for Virgil to just ba-

Iiiiit was already happening~

Virgil released one of their paws while keeping the other around to stabilise the foe. They committed themself to observing it and keeping it in place while their black hook got back at it, fully swinging against the cool microphone. Remy let go, merely catching up on the series of movement Virgil started carrying out after he had retreated his caressing hand. He had just stopped himself from giggling in amusement as the situation turned into a somewhat serious scene.

“BADANG!”

His grip on the microphone was no more - as much as the noisy foe Virgil had bashed the annoying bitch far, far away. The kitty paw had practically yeeted the whole apparatus away from them, the little microphone flying over the couch and landing on the other side of it while echoing the sounds of whooshing air breezing into its loudspeaking function. It crashed into the cushions and sound exploded on them, leaving Remy and Virgil in a groan of annoyance, maybe even a slight tone of pain.

Hah, tone.

The microphone’s last cries died down as s quickly as they had torn into the world. Virgil sagely blinked at the fallen enemy. In a great sense of victory, the cat hopped into his arms. They flung themself at his chest and bonked their heads together once more.

“Meow!”

They seemed to argue in their own benefit, demanding a reward for defeating the evil intruder and saving their dummy thicc idiot of an owner. Stupid human slaves. Foolish mortals. Bringing their own enemy into their home and even cuddling with it. Good thing the fierce kitten was around to knock out any meanie!

Very well, they thought, they deserved a treat and Remy would have to hand over one of the good things. Virgil desired it.

The kitten nudged their owner, settling down on them in satisfaction.

“You go, Queen”, Remy cheered softly as he gathered the bundle of utter darkness and destruction in his arms.

Praise covered the kitten in warmth. They blinked slowly.

“I got you, you little sassy bitch.”

Remy wobbled into the kitchen with his bitch buddy and got some treats for the kitten especially and also some for his own tired self. The whole endeavour had not been the most clever thing to do. His head was hurting from the scratchy noises. Still, it was worth the silly fun they had together. Do not judge the bitch flat, they were both hungry and tired! Also, Remy was dummy thicc on meds. Weekends were made to bitch slap fucking microphones and other noise-generating machines and beings across the room just to get a little crunchy CRONCH CRONCH treat in return.

This was the local apartment laws because Remy and Virgil said so.

The owner carefully got something from the kitty drawer he had put together by now. With a ceremonial movement, he flicked his wrist and presented his little chaos charcoal with the treat of catnip paradise.

Virgil jumped into the sack of nice smells and good treats.

“MRRW!”

Remy found himself succumbing to giggles once more.

“Yeah, meow to you, too, dark and stormy knight. You are just the cutest little kitten, honey.”

He got himself a bit of cheese as he sat down to watch Virgil bite and rip into the bag of the good old cat nip.

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