#also casual reminder my commissions r open!!!

[blotb0x]

commission for @moons-br done!!! my dumbass got so eager i finished this before having the full payment

[randomikemendegen]

It's nearly 4:45 in the morning (at the time of writing) where I am but fuck it, my brain's creative juices are flowing but my body says no so HERE'S A TEXT POST ABOUT MY OCS AND THEIR RELATIONSHIP WITH THEIR RESPECTIVE DORM LEADERS--

(note: I WILL be drawing a relationship chart sooner or later... or in the future, hopefully soon 🤡🤡🤡)

HEARTSLABYUL

Quintin Blanpine — Riddle Rosehearts

At first, their relationship was really.... kind of "cruel", in a way really.

What with Riddle essentially working Quin to the bone, though his reasoning was more of [He needs to build more confidence in himself] and genuinely thought that what he was doing was the right thing. Quintin wasn't PLEASED AT ALL with the treatment, but kept quiet about it...

.... at least until Chapter 1 occured.

They got to actually talking and found that they had some common grounds and became close acquaintances.

(One such thing is their shared thought of Seisear being a huge PAIN to deal with despite his usually good and sincere intentions; another is actually them bonding over the dormitory's hedgehogs and love of crossword puzzles.)

Seisear Marchare — Riddle Rosehearts

A one-sided "friendship" on Sei's part (initially).

Riddle really HATED how Seisear was almost always out-of-control "like a petulant child" and seemed to follow his own sets of rules, thus he more often than not hit the other student with his Unique Magic in order to make him reflect even just slightly.

Seisear on the other hand found Riddle to be quite the "hilarious little prince"~. He always found the redhead's reactions funny, and while he may act terribly uncontrollable, Sei does notice how lonesome and closed-off Riddle seems to be-- it's mostly the reason why he likes to bug his classmate almost all the time~.

(Thankfully it seems like after Chapter 1, they've actually become closer and a little bit more friendly... though Sei still keeps getting collared with [Off With Your Head!] due to how far he can go with messing with Riddle for the laughs~.]

SAVANACLAW

Lala-Phula Tigris — Leona Kingscholar

Kind of an odd relationship.

On one hand, they both act somewhat antagonistic towards each other, on the other hand they're actually... kind of close??? To say the least??? Like, they casually throw snarky words and insults at each other, but they also acknowledge each other as "okay"???

Leona finds Lala to be more like a bothersome kid that won't stop pulling his tail for some attention (if you can call the regular declarations of challenge to be that).

Meanwhile Lala thinks that Leona isn't deserving of being "the king of the pack" (ie. dorm leader, in her own terms) but also begrudgingly accepting the fact that he is genuinely strong and thus respects him.

Raetel Gura — Leona Kingscholar

More animosity here than the previous one that Leona and Lala had, though it's not out of actual malice and there's no actual fighting that's happened so far (except for the first time they met), but there ARE some close calls here and there.

Though they're more prone to hurling insults at each other and getting creative with their wordings on how to best annoy the other instead.

Raetel is GENUINELY livid with Leona, mostly out of the fact that they know that Leona could do so much better but chooses NOT to and instead prefers to usually lazy around.

Leona on the other hand mostly thinks of Raetel just as "that fox-sham of a teacher's kid", along with expressing annoyance at how much Raet gets up in his case.

OCTAVINELLE

Leviotan Genov — Azul Ashengrotto

This relationship is on thin-fucking-ice. Period.

Levi knows Azul's type and thus is ALWAYS wary and cautious of his dorm leader, while Azul notes on how distrusting Levi is and is just as wary of his potential plans and methods in which he can foil him.

Funnily enough though, they actually respect each other to some extent and have some slightly similarities here and there that have even both of them acknowledging that fact.

It's to the point of them actually often being seen talking with each other, though if you inquire about that they'll just reply with "it's just business talk".

Viviane Genov — Azul Ashengrotto

Friends....???? To be more accurate, Vivi sees Azul as a friend (like she does with literally everyone else) while on Azul's end he's not sure if they could even BE called "friends".

They certainly are on good terms though that's for sure.

Viviane can see past through Azul's personality and pick up on how actually lonely he is and how much hard work he had to do to finally get to his current self, so she's genuinely really nice and friendly to him.

Meanwhile Azul's kind of wary about Vivi's sincere attitude and is a bit doubtful, though he doesn't mind it at all now that they're both in 2nd year and even seems to actually take a liking to having her in his company on occasion.

Azul still thinks she would make for a good business advertisement and attraction to Mostro Lounge, but Levi threatens to suffocate him to death if he ever tries to so he'll have to pass on the tempting thoughts.

(NO SCARABIA FOR NOW I'M SORRYYYY :(((( I'LL MAKE SOME SOON I PROMISE)

POMEFIORE

Fuyume Yukitosu — Vil Schoenheit

Acquaintances? Of sorts?? It's,,, kinda hard to describe this relationship.

Fuyume has no specific feelings whatsoever to her dorm leader and is perfectly willing to go/do whatever he asks or whatever house rules there are.

Vil meanwhile likes the fact that Fuyu is among the more obedient (especially to the strict regiments that he makes EVERYONE adhere to) of the Pomefiore students, though he can't help but vocalize on how she should open up more to other people.

Which results in her acting like a confused child at times because she has zero ideas on how to NORMALLY converse with someone, so Vil personally takes to putting her in more social circles despite any plights she may have.

He is slightly bit jealous at how she doesn't need to do anything and still remain beautiful, but that feeling decreases due to the fact that she's basically almost like a wallflower with no life and thus can't help but also becoming strict with her in an attempt to get her to finally bloom.

IGNIHYDE

Ophiou Chos Gorgos — Idia Shroud

Close friends!! They have a lot of shared hobbies, likes, dislikes, and interests!!!

They're even close enough that they call each other with nicknames and are even online friends (they even message each other whenever Idia doesn't wanna go out of his room).

Ophiou does sincerely appreciate and like Idia's companionship (along with Ortho), and is very grateful to have someone he could finally call a "friend", yet he does acknowledge on how isolated Idia is more so than himself and can't help but occasionally worry. He is also still mildly scared of being rejected by his (first) friend because of his eyes.

Idia, meanwhile, is DELIGHTED to find someone he calls a "kindred spirit" and is even more open and honest with Ophi due to this fact. Though even then, sometimes Idia's slightly afraid that he might push him away if he ever gets too heated up about any topic and end up looking/acting creepy.

Regardless, they both game together on occasion and even hold anime marathons. (Of course, Ortho is more than welcome to join in)

Raneus Salpho — Idia Shroud

This relationship, unlike the previous one, is more distant. The two of them don't interact that much, but whenever they do, it's with a comfortable distance between them.

It's not that they hate each other, it's just that sometimes their interests align and it's mostly the reason they interact. (Even though they've known each other from way back, they were still distant towards each other and didn't talk much)

Idia often approaches Ran for commissions in sewing cosplay clothing or even just general merchandise that can be sewn before quickly going back to his room.

Though the few amount of times he actually managed to talk with Ran, he found that they actually had some few common grounds... before Ran ended up (unintentionally) scaring him (again).

Raneis meanwhile is totally neutral to his dorm leader, but is a tiny bit annoyed with how Idia doesn't take care of his appearance and thus often finds himself essentially getting up on his face and even threatens him to take better care of himself. Besides that little nugget, he takes up on Idia's requests with no complaint whatsoever.

DIASOMNIA

Cirnu Alva Valirgethen — Malleus Draconia

Cirnu treats Malleus like a younger brother and you can't change my mind.

Okay okay, but in all seriousness, they have a really close relationship! Almost sibling-like, in a way.

While Cirnu does like occasionally playfully messing with Malleus, it's just harmless fun and she's quick to apologize if she says anything out of line. She (also) looks out for Malleus and feels bad that he's not getting invited to anything by anyone, and tries her best to cheer him up by reminding the other Diasomnia members to NOT forget to invite him to any parties that the dorm may have.

(It's also the major reason as to why, despite knowing about it since way back, she allows and supports Malleus and Yuu to interact with each other.)

Malleus, meanwhile, does sincerely appreciate her efforts in making sure he does get invited to stuff and socializing, he does wish that she would be a bit more gentle in her readings since it's a bit embarrassing.

Especially since she often calls him "boy", despite the fact that even though she IS older than him, they only have a few years of an age gap between them.

Berebis R. L'Ephegor — Malleus Draconia

Another complicated relationship to explain??? Kind of????

On one hand, they've barely interacted with each other, but on the other, Malleus' heard of Bel so many times from either Lilia, Cirnu, Silver, and/or Sebek (definitely more with that last one due to his annoyance with Bel).

So Malleus more often than not decides to go looking for him out of curiosity.

After some awkward distance and general apathy (mostly from Bel's side) for a while, their relationship eventually becomes that of quiet acknowledgement and understanding. And occasional harmless jokes and teasing (from both sides).

Due to Bel being among the very few that neither fear nor revere him, Malleus finds some form of comfort and companionship in him. He's mildly curious as to why Bel is the way he is but doesn't push that topic any further since except for a few times due to being unintentionally more curious than he should.

Bel meanwhile didn't like the fact that the most powerful student of NRC kept approaching him and often ignored him, but eventually relented and decided to converse with Malleus. Only to actually end up slightly come to like how Malleus was different from his initial perception, and now kind of enjoys his company.... but you won't get him to admit it. Ever.

[the-science-of-stories]

Find Your Star.

A Dungeons and Dragons fiction writing commission for my buddy Noriaki on Twitter! 

They’re part of a campaign I am also a part of with Dahlia and have given me permission to post it here on Tumblr! This was my first writing commission and I couldn’t be happier with it. 

Characters that belong to the commissioner:

Star Chaser, Tabaxi Rogue 

Aegis Olyrnn, Female Elf 

“Huh. I guess this is the place.”  

Above the babbling brook that ran through the quaint expanse of a small forest came the voice of an elvish man. He wore the garb and carried the hefty bag of a researcher. Holding up a pamphlet he was using for reference he adjusted his glasses to get a better look.

It was a crude drawing of a small cottage flanked by an abundant garden and a quaint little pond. In front of it stood a couple of stick figure drawings: a woman with dark hair and a small cat-like figure with a cloak.  

Lowering the drawing to compare it to the cottage he stood before he gave an affirming nod. His boots clacked against the cobblestone path in melody with the stream and a few home-made wind chimes.  

He stepped up onto a creaky patio that led to a wooden door, both showing signs of their age with weathered surfaces. He gave the door a couple of raps with the back of fist before placing his arm behind his back in a patient stance waiting for an answer.  

After almost a minute the door creaked open, the sun spilling in onto its residence.  

It was a woman. One also of elvish descent with ears poking out of shoulder length dark hair. She wore a set of casual clothes with her hair hanging loose, cascading around her face with evergreen eyes that matched the lush vegetation around her dwelling.  

“51 seconds, that’s almost slower than last time.” The researcher observed, pretending to be impressed and earning a tired scowl from the woman.  

“I was taking a nap, Farlan,” she groggily answered, looking at his hand, “You received the drawing?”  

Farlan raised the paper before turning it around to face the drawing towards the woman, “I would say so, as I found your home.”  

The woman stepped aside, gesturing with an arm for the man to follow inside. He gave a thankful nod and stepped through the door.

Taking a look around he was immediately met by lush pots of different flora hanging from the ceiling or resting on shelves. The air itself almost smelled like perfume, something Farlan clearly noticed as he flinched a bit when he took a breath.  

“I see you still have your hobby,” he remarked, “Quite an... exotic home.”  

“Keerla likes it when she comes here.” Aegis crossed the room to a small stove where she set a kettle on a rack in a quaint fireplace.  

“Keerla was busy, so they sent me instead. Like they always do when she’s busy. She’ll be back before you know it. But in the meantime-” Farlan slipped a document out of his bag, adjusting his glasses and clearing his throat, “Aegis Olyrnn, my name is Farlan Chaedi of the Harpers Medical Wing. I will be your substitute physician for this visit. Do you accept my treatment?”  

The woman turned around, now holding two mugs that she set down on the table with a firm stare at the scientist, “Yes, Doctor Farlan, I accept. Do we have to do this every time?”  

Farlan nodded in answer, scribbling on the scroll before tucking it back in his bag. Aegis gestured to the chair opposite of her at the table. He nearly took his seat when he stopped to pick up another paper that sat atop a few others.  

“These came in a parcel, are these from him?” Farlan asked, holding up one of the drawings, pressing the back to his chest to face Aegis.  

“Yes, that is from Star Chaser,” Aegis responded, resting her cheek in her hand with a bit of an endeared expression, “Bless him, he learned how to use the mail. He has been sending me some of his drawings to let me know where he is and that he’s okay.”  

His brow furrowed as he turned it back, clearly he noticed something on the paper as he pressed it to his nose and took a sniff.  

“This smells like cinnamon,” Farlan observed, causing Aegis to chuckle to herself.  

“One of his new friends makes these cinnamon treats he is obsessed with. I believe he attempted to send me one tied to the letter.”  

Farlan’s lip curved up a bit with a quiet ‘hrm’ as if that were an answer he didn’t expect but definitely believed. He set the paper back down with the pile before taking a seat.  

“So we ran some more tests, and it looks like you are responding positively to the treatment. There are no signs of any infection or antibodies to the-”  

“Get to the ‘but’ please, Farlan,” Aegis interrupted with a couple of exhausted nods, “I was in the field as well. I may not have done as much medical study but I’ve been alive for over 400 years. I know what letting a patient down easy sounds like.”

Farlan pressed his lips together in a relent expression, setting the paper in his hands down before lacing his fingers together on the table, “We believe your condition might be spreading to your muscle tissue. We cannot be sure just yet, but it appears to be migrating away from where we’ve targeted the treatment.”  

Aegis took a heavy breath through her nose, her shoulders rising and falling in deflation. She didn’t seem surprised, but that didn’t make the news any easier to take.  

“If there’s nothing else you can do I’d like you to finish your test and be going.” Aegis requested.

“I think you should tell him.” Farlan responded, tapping the drawing.  

“I don’t want to hear this.” Aegis interrupted, standing up from her chair to walk towards the fireplace.  

“He is out on his own he should know about-”  

“Doctor Farlan.” Aegis cut him off as the kettle started to whistle. For a moment the loud screech was the only sound in the cottage before she quickly turned around and removed it from the heat, “My lifespan is likely to be much longer than his. Even with my condition I will outlive him.”  

“You may outlive him,” Farlan emphasized, “You knew this when we found him. I need you to recall I don’t ask this lightly, he was like a nephew to me.”  

Aegis had just started to pour the boiling water into the two cups laid out, her expression softening, “He did love his ‘smart uncle’, even if he thought you were strange at times.”  

“I think he found me just as fascinating as I found him,” Farlan countered, seemingly a bit annoyed. It made Aegis crack a smile as she sat back down and cupped her hands around her tea.  

She reached across the table, dragging one of the drawings out from the bottom of the pile. She picked it up and looked it over, tilting her head with a bit of a smile.

“Do you remember when we found him? Freezing and feral that night in the Mulhorand desert? He was so comfortable in the wild, but the moment I touched him he wouldn’t let me stop petting him. Such an affectionate little creature, alone for such a long time. Couldn’t even speak or write common yet.”  

“I had to remind you he was for a study when all you wished to do was play with him,” Farlan recalled, taking a sip of his tea.  

“You weren’t the most on task, either,” the elvish woman reminded, giving him a knowing glare, “I would find you pausing in the middle of taking notes when he was batting at your pen.”  

The memory sparked something with the researchers as Farlan cracked a smile before they both laughed for a moment. Aegis collected herself as she ran a finger around the rim of her cup.  

“He’s having so much fun,” she explained, looking at the stack of drawings and letters, “He’s met such a wonderful group of friends.”  

“We knew sooner or later we’d have to release him,” Farlan said, “He was still a living creature, even if he’s an adolescent. He deserves to make his own choices.”  

She shuffled the drawing she was looking at across the table to face Farlan.  

It was another crude drawing of the same cat from the reference picture he used to find the cottage. This time, he was standing atop a large hill with sword extended towards a starry sky. A shooting star’s trail streaked to where it was drawn in place at the tip of his sword.  

“He wanted to find a star. Just like a story I used to tell him: that shooting stars all landed somewhere and we had our own to find.” Aegis reminisced, her eyes starting to get misty.  

Farlan nodded somberly with his eyes on the drawing, “That was how you came to the choice of his name. Yes, I recall.”  

“He believes if he finds one it will make me better,” Aegis continued, “That if he finds his star then I’ll be healthy again. I can’t take that away from him.”  

Farlan exhaled, clearly he wanted to argue but he knew he couldn’t. Instead he elected to start removing equipment from his bag, “I don’t know if it’s a star he’s gonna find, exactly, but he may find what he’s looking for in a form he didn’t expect. Maybe a magic potion or an ancient artifact.”  

“Don’t patronize me, Farlan,” Aegis said, but she couldn’t hide the bit of a smile, “You’re my doctor today, you don’t get to tease me.”  

“Not teasing. Well, maybe half teasing.” Farlan assured, “It is quite a world out there, after all. From what you’ve told me already he’s on quite a remarkable adventure.” He held a hand out, flexing his fingers. Aegis rested her hand in his as he started to check her pulse, “For now, he has his own star to chase,” he cast a glance at the drawing again, “I think you’ve already found yours.”  

Farlan placed his other hand over top of Aegis’ as she nodded a couple of times, covering her teary smile with her hand. She sniffled, brushing some of her hair out of her face.  

“Remember, my little Star Chaser-”  

“- When you see a falling star, follow it. Follow it and remember that I see it, too. If you chase the star, I will know where you are!”  

A small Tabaxi with an orange coat sang the parable to himself as he had before hundreds of times, kicking his feet on a bar stool way too tall for him. He held a length of chalk in a fist drawing on a sheet of parchment.  

An empty glass with the remnants of what was likely milk sat next to him as he had just finished scribbling ears on a cat-like stick figure staring up at a very large tower.  

His party was about to go see a tower just like it nearby. He couldn’t quite remember why they were, but he was still so excited. It was so tall! Maybe if he could scale it he’d get close to the night sky.  

There were so many stars above where they were, and it was so pretty! One of them just had to be close enough to touch! If he couldn’t grab it, maybe he could just knock it loose.  

“Hey Star! We’re about to go to the markets and see the fresh catches for today,” A soft female voice called from the doorway, “Do you wanna come with us?”  

“Uh huh!” Star eagerly replied, nodding a couple times. Fresh fish at the market, he couldn’t wait! He just had to finish this drawing.  

A couple more details and... Done!  

He folded the drawing up along with a note, giving a rather unnecessarily large lick to the envelope  to seal it before waving it around to the barkeep, “I’d like to send this letter, please!”  

The barkeep, a burly man with a bushy mustache reached out with a bit of a forced smile as he grabbed the slightly damp letter with two fingers.  

“Same place as th’ last one?” he asked.  

The Tabaxi nodded a couple times, “Yes, please!”  

Star scooped up his drawing materials, hopping off the stool before padding for the door. Before long the letter would be on its way to the cottage, but the words almost rang in the air off of the paper that was filled to the brim with wondrous, if not brokenly written words.  

The envelope was lovingly (albeit a bit sloppily) wrapped and sealed. The cover sported a blotch of ink resembling a paw print and a couple words scrawled barely legibly across the front.  

                                            To Mama

[sonatanotwo]

Well... I barely slept. 😂 Least I’ve got coffee... Gonna try to fumble out some words... (Spoilers ahoy!)

I didn’t quite expect the emotional roller coaster this has turned into... and not entirely cause of the episode itself. 😂 It’s feeling ever so bitter sweet... mostly in that experiencing something so emotional without a lot of the people that made up this sorta... fandom home? that it was to me. All the friends I love and care about. It’s... been feeling kinda lonely... Even though I’m not alone of course, but... yeah. It’s hard to explain. 😂 And then with this looking like the end (...though I kinda doubt ITV is gonna shelve the franchise for another 10+ years... least I sure hope not. That’d seem VERY dumb to me. But what will they do with it? That’s the real big question, ain’t it? XD I was a bit agape after attaching ‘Season’ to every time they spoke of ending that today they finally changed their tune and was like THE END. What the ever loving heck, ITV. Seriously. 😂 BUT I digress...) ...IDK if any of that feeling will ever come back now. Shit changes... god, do I ever know it does... but I guess... I just wasn’t ready for it yet. ;A;

...And boy is my body telling me that. 😂 Anxiety is such an asshole.

ANYHOO.

SO.

This ep.

As I mentioned when I gif’d it (opening my gif making stuff was first thing I did XD) that HUG man. That old hug art I did, the original version (the one you see commonly around now is the tweaked one) was one of my first finished (ish) TAG piece (only few rough doodles and half coloured things were before that lol) that I posted June 10th 2015.... so long ago. (My first post that was some sketches was June 2nd XD Yeah, I’ve been around a long while now, blimey. Not quite the VERY very start, but nearly!)

BUT YEAH. I was wanting this hug for a VERY, VERY long time. XDDD Just, back then, didn’t think it’d involve their Dad too. lol

And then, gosh... Scott in this ep... Last ep was def more Scott heavy... to balance he was stepped back a bit, but... it did make sense? Scott just seems quietly basking in the feeling of having his Dad back. Him hanging back from the hug for a moment having that exchange with his Dad feels a bit like a... passing back the torch? Here they are Dad. I took good care of them. :Db Does that make sense??? IDK. I’m so tired you guys. 😂 But it didn’t feel like Scott needed to say anything. It was written all over his face. He must have been so happy... and relieved. It’s pretty overwhelming in all the best way to hear from someone you haven’t in awhile... so... in this case, it must be turned up to like... an 11. ^^a

Man, I don’t think I can go through this in order so, bear with me if I bounce around.

There’s been so much wondering what this version of Jeff would be like all these years... and in such a short time, we definitely got a LOT to go off of. He’s a Dad who definitely doesn’t hesitate to hug his sons. :3 Fears Grandma as much as the boys, lolololol HUGS HIS ENGINEER. I actually really just... LOVED that scene with Brains. That casual, ‘Hi Brains.’ And then just calling him PARTNER and going right in for a hug... and lol Brains’ lil happy sound. Jeff and Brains were certainly friends in TOS, but there was still a kinda distance between them in that Brains is working for Jeff, but that was definitely laid out to be much different in TAG. I’m not surprised by it, cause Brains is def part of the family, but it was lovely they took the time to show it.

ALSO just how he picked up Virgil was dwelling on something... we don’t really get a window into what exactly... but after all those years, he just... picks right up on Virgil’s in some turmoil. (As said in a tag... MAYBE MOM RELATED? He seems to think Virgil’s worried if he’ll really be okay, which is why I wonder... GONNA DEF WRITE SOME FIC THOUGH. XDb) Like. GOSH. I’m sad we aren’t likely to see more of this Jeff, cause with this single ep, he was absolutely sold on me. And I love he was a total presence... but he did sit back quietly and other than dealing with ‘Brains’ and largely just *watched*. Scott was still in charge here.

So as for the end and what role Jeff is gonna play... WELL... I mean. To be fair here at the end, John is probably changing and heading to the elevator... and I mean, we’ve seen Grandma fill in several times for John... he can’t be awake CONSTANTLY, so I’d always felt a bit like maybe they’d gradually gel into a team with just... one more member. And that seems more likely now that we’ve seen he didn’t just... jump to take command. He sat back and let them do their thing.  

And now we can see Jeff is def a bit younger... and as kinda already implied, is definitely one to get his hands dirty, so sometimes (once he’s recovered a bunch) maybe he’ll even go out with the boys. That’d be my guess. ^^a I mean, might be a little kinda jostling at first to settle into a new routine... but while he certainly has a strong presence... he’s also did kinda feel... a bit gentle too? He’s not nearly as stern as TOS!Jeff. It felt like a good balance??? IDK. I’m rambling up a storm. XDDD (...and making walls of text... I should... break these up more lol...)

OKAY ALSO...

WAIIIIT wait. WAIT. This looks familiar. V E R Y familiar... Bridge... rockety thing at bottom... explody warning? Two people inside... *squints* DAY OF DISASTER? IS THAT YOU?

I HAVE A FEELING... If so... //CHEF KISS//  VERY NICE. A+ XD

OKAY. WHAT ELSE. Uh. Glad they did end up using Fuse’s (or I guess I could say Clarence’s :D) mixed feelings, which was good and gave Grandma a heck of a moment of awesome. They also served to give some action for Kayo, Penelope and Parker which was good else I suppose they’d have been standing around worriedly. lol Which isn’t really suited to their characters. XD YEAH just lotta nice moments, especially with Kayo and Grandma. ANd just. YEAH. GRANDMA MAN. YOU TELL HIM. and also OMG she was a doctor?! THAT sure explains some things. XD And that’s awesome, gosh.

ALSO the number of HUGS in this ep were A+ Getting a moment with Jeff and Grandma was lovely. :D

LIKE REALLY. LOOK HOW HUG HAPPY THIS DAD IS. I AM PLEASED. A+

And just lol... ‘I don’t even have a car yet.’  ‘You have a rocket.’ ‘...oh yeah. That’s true.’ LOLOL SUCH ALAN. He is too cute.

...AND yeah. IDK. I feel like I’m forgetting things. I’ll ramble them into another post if I think of things. I gotta pop out for a bit. 😂

BUT YEAH. Yeah, there’s few things they didn’t get to addressing, but there were hugs and emotions which was what was really the important thing, right? :Da I don’t really feel like nit picking when had all that. XDDD

(It is kinda interesting how in a way the ending reminded me of Legacy’s a bit with a ...Oh we got an emergency. It’s a good note to leave off of... but goes to show when maybe S1 was written, it was largely on the assumption that it could be the only season... but then were able to hint of S2 in an additional scene. But if S2 hadn’t been commissioned, it was sorta ready to be a finale if it had to. In a way S2 was the same, though with bit more hints of S3 were there so... Just kinda interesting. =Oa But also nice that Rob has left it in a way that NEVER SAY NEVER (to quote Rob) is definitely open. ^^)

ANYHOO. That’s all my rambling for now. ^^

[miss-noo-na]

Reminder (Wonho Smut/Mafia AU)

Title: Reminder

Featuring: Wonho (Monsta X) x Reader

POV: 2nd

Rating: Mature. Dom!Wonho Sub!Reader, spanking, dirty talk, good girl/kitten, brief mention of death. 

Summary: Wonho’s job can be dangerous, and despite knowing you’re taken care of, you can’t help but worry. When you break a cardinal rule, Wonho has to remind you who is in charge. 

Note: This piece was a commission! Please see the request link in my bio if you would like to commission a scenario from me. 

Being Wonho’s fiancée wasn’t always easy. From the outside, everything seemed almost perfect. His business, the company you both kept, the vacations, getting everything you could have ever wanted, and the attention he paid you would make the best of them envious of your love. However, few knew what went on behind closed doors.

He was a high-ranking associate to a well-known family, one that you might call an established family. Words like mafia didn’t get thrown around like they once did, but if you had to attribute a definition to what he was apart of, that would be the more accurate one. He wasn’t a brute, although he looked like one, and he wasn’t a petty thief or a drug-lord either, he was simply well-connected and business minded, and willing to look the other way when more unsavory people and situations presented themselves.

This sometimes left you on edge, unsure of what the next day would bring. He could handle his own and he had people to protect him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a target. He knew things, and there were a lot of people who wouldn't be afraid to crack his skull for that information. No serious threats had occurred just yet, but you knew they were watching, and you knew they lurked just outside your comfortable life. You had been followed, a few times at that, and you had witnessed him being accosted and verbally threatened. These rare instances frightened you senseless, but Wonho took them in stride.

“It’s okay, kitten.” He smiled bright, pushing your hair out of your face and caressing your cheek. “Nothing will ever happen to you.”

“It’s you I’m worried about.” You’d say, hanging your head.

“Nothing is going to happen to me, either. I promise.”

Though you would nod and smile, you couldn’t help but feel a gnawing sense of dread.

This week had been particularly difficult. Someone who worked under him had gotten into some serious trouble with an opposing family, and they were looking for him. They had already roughed up some lower level clients for possible information, and when they didn’t get it, it only made them more angry and eager to find him.

“Do you know where he is?” You asked the evening after it got serious, pulling your legs up under you on the couch.

“No.” Wonho answered sternly, busying himself around the living room and not meeting your eyes. You wondered if he was telling the truth. You thought maybe he might lie to make you feel better about it.

“They’re going to think you know.”

He didn’t say anything, and it made your stomach churn.

“I have some people coming over tomorrow,” He said instead, changing the subject. “We have some serious things to discuss.”

You knew what that meant. Anytime someone visited his home office he wasn’t to be bothered under any circumstances. You had been staring at the ground, chewing your finger in thought, vaguely taking in his words. Then you felt a hand under your chin, firm in its hold but not too tight, just enough to pull your attention up to his face.

“Do you understand?” He asked, and you nodded slowly, nuzzling his hand in the process. “Of course, sir.”  You said in a quiet way, and you felt the tension in his arm relax. He could be strict, but it didn’t take much for you to soften him.

The next day you didn’t have much to do, so you went about some housework, making coffee, laundry. Wonho was distracted for the most part, in his office getting ready for his meeting later that afternoon. You only came in once or twice, to bring him coffee or tidy up, and he smiled and thanked you each time, giving you a grope here and there for good measure.

It was a perfectly normal day, and some of your anxiety had started to slip away, until you opened your phone and saw the news alert about a body being found in a local ravine. They hadn’t released a victim name yet, but you could tell by the details that it sounded like a planned hit. You swallowed hard and padded lightly to Wonho’s office.

“Did you see this?” You asked, offering him the phone. He read it over and his face went from curious to concern, but then he plastered on a fake look of nonchalance.

“Could be nothing,” He shrugged. “They find bodies in that ravine all the time.”

“Hogtied with a bullet in their mouth?” You asked, and sighed as he pushed himself away from the desk and stood. He was so imposing that it still overwhelmed you sometimes, until his arms found their way around you, pulling you close.

“You can’t keep this up, you know.” He said, squeezing you “You’re going to drive yourself crazy if you think every little bad thing is going to happen to us.”

“It’s hard not to,” You lowered your head, somewhat ashamed.

“Until I hear something more concrete, don’t worry about. And when I do, I’ll take every precaution I possibly can. We’ll be fine.”

With that, he kissed the top of your head and sent you on your way.

His associates started to show up one by one, and you invited them each in and led them to the office. Wonho told you exactly who would be there, and when the last person entered and the office door shut behind them, you sighed. It was evening now, the sun slipping beyond the horizon, and you didn’t know quite what to do with yourself.

You felt uneasy in the living room by yourself, even though there were people just down the hall. Thinking about the body in the ravine and trying not to picture it as anyone you cared about wasn’t helping, so you turned on the TV for distraction instead.

It was working for about a half an hour, and you had forgotten all about your worries. Yet, to your surprise, there was a knock at the door. You knew exactly who would be showing up tonight, “no more, no less” Wonho had said, so you felt immediate tension at the sound.

You got up and crept to the door, peering through the peep-hole. A man who you didn’t recognize stood there, and he seemed agitated.  You wanted to ignore it, and you did at first, but he knocked again, this time louder and with his fist, and it sent a jolt of fear through you.

“Wh-who is it?” You asked meekly.

“It’s Stevie, open up.” He said adamantly, as if you should know him. You hesitated, and he spoke again.

“Quit playing games and let me in.”

You swallowed hard, this could just be a set-up and the moment you opened that door could put you in a world of trouble. You started to back away from it and the man knocked hard once, making you jump and almost shriek.

“I don’t have time for this.” He yelled, and you turned and near-ran down the hall toward the office. You knew the rules, under no circumstances, but you felt this fell under the “in case of an emergency” clause.

You swung the door open into the office and everyone’s heads turned in unison at your brash entrance. Wonho’s eyes narrowed in your direction, but then he saw your face and the way your chest was heaving, the wild fear in your eyes.

“What is it?” He asked, standing. You gestured down the hall.

“There’s a man, he’s-” You could barely get out the words, feeling like you were on the verge of a panic attack. Wonho didn’t have to hear anymore, he left his place at the desk and passed you into the hall, a few of his associates following. The man was still knocking and talking loudly through the door. You stayed in the hall, trying to control your breathing so you wouldn’t hyperventilate.

After a brief exchange you heard the front door swing open, and then more words, but the voices didn’t sound hostile. You started to inch down the hall and peeked your head around the corner. Wonho and the man were having a conversation that seemed casual, and the man laughed, apologizing before he walked away.

You stepped out into the living room and Wonho shut the door and turned toward you. His associates mumbled in idle chit-chat as they passed you back into the office.

“Wrong apartment.” He said, and you blinked at him.

“What do you-”

“He was on the wrong floor. He had a few too many and was looking for his girlfriend’s place.” He explained, and you could tell by his tone that he was upset with you for overreacting, especially when you had interrupted him when you knew not to.

“I’m sorry, I really thought-”

He stopped you again. “We’ll talk about it later.” He said, returning to his office. You sunk down onto the couch, burying your face in your hands, the embarrassment washing over you in hot waves. You had made a total fool of yourself for no reason, and had also interrupted Wonho’s extremely important business for nothing.

An hour or so later, the men exited the office and bid you farewell, thankfully not mentioning the incident. You saw them out with a forced smile, but didn’t meet their eyes, closing the door behind them.

When you turned, you realized Wonho wasn’t around, and took a breath before heading toward his office, having an idea of what you were in for.

You came to the door way and opened your mouth to speak, but he did first.

“Close the door behind you.” He said, his voice in its hard, business tone. You did as you were told and watched him shuffle his paperwork and put it away. He then stood, moving to the leather couch on the other side of the room under the window, sitting down. He stared at you as he undid the cuffs on his dress shirt and started to roll them up his forearms.

“Come here.”

You felt an anxious shiver go down your spine at his words, walking to stand in front of him, arms behind your back, letting your hands fidget.

He sat back against the couch and let his legs fall apart. “Down.”

You knew what he wanted, laying yourself across his lap and resting your arms and head on the cushion. He slipped his fingers inside your leggings and tugged them down, along with your underwear, exposing your bare backside.

“You know what this is, right?” He asked, and you nodded.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Yes.” You spoke, trying not to let him hear the tremble in your voice.

“What is it?” He asked, smoothing his hands over your skin.

“A punishment.”

“And what for?”

You swallowed. “For interrupting your meeting.”

“Mhm,” He agreed, and as one arm braced you against his lap, the other that was caressing now rose up before coming back down hard on your ass with loud smack. You twitched, your breath hitching in your throat.

“Because I told you, didn’t I, kitten? I told you everything would be okay, but apparently my word isn’t good enough.”

He did it again on the other side and you hissed.

“How can I ever leave you alone like this? You know I love taking care of you, babygirl, but you have to take care of yourself when I’m not around, right?” He explained, and you nodded again before thinking better of it.

“Yes, sir.”

Smack.

“So what do I have to do? Do I need to stop spoiling you so much?”

Smack. Smack.

It was starting to sting a little now, the initial endorphins wearing off and replaced by a biting pain every time he came down on a spot he had spanked before.

“I want you to be safe, but I want you to be strong, too.”

Smack. Smacksmacksmack.

Tears started to tickle behind your eyes and you buried your face in your arms, both from the pain and the emotions. “I know, sir.”

He could hear the crack in your voice, and paused to pet the back of your head.

“Are you okay, kitten? You know what to say if you want me to stop, right?”

“Yes,” You pulled in a breath, because you needed this. “Keep going.”

He made a satisfied humming sound.

“That’s what makes punishing you so difficult, you take it too well.” He said, losing some of the seriousness in his tone. “You’re such a good girl.”

You felt your entire body melt at his words, his praise a soothing balm to every physical and emotional scar.

Smack.

You could feel the heat radiating off your skin, all your nerve endings sparking every time he made contact and burning when he stopped.

“Are you going to listen to me?” He asked, his voice returning to its deliberate and sincere tone.

“Yes, always, sir.”

Smack. Smack.

“We’ll work on ways you can protect yourself. Until then, you have to trust me.”

Smacksmacksmack.

Now the tears brimmed at the edges of your eyes and you sucked in a heavy breath.

“I trust you, I’ll listen, I promise.”

Smack.

“I know you will.”

The last time his hand came down was almost too much, and your safe-word tickled the tip of your tongue, but it didn’t need to be spoken, because now his hand went back to smoothing over your poor, tortured skin. His hands were soft and cool and you sighed in relief.

You weren’t given much time to recover, though, because now his fingertips were sliding down the dip of your cheeks and toward your slit, where they pressed and wriggled through your folds.

“Why are you wet, kitten?” He asked in an amused way. Now your face burned as hot as your backside.

One finger found its way inside you and you arched, moaning into your arm.

“That was too easy,” Wonho laughed, adding another for good measure as his thumb found your clit. He worked the digits into you slowly but firmly, massaging your inner walls in a hooked motion, finding your G-spot and pressing into it. Your body shuddered of its own accord, and when you bowed forward you could feel him hard in his pants, rubbing against your hip.

“Right there?” He asked teasingly, and you moaned again while nodding,  your hands gripping the leather cushion.

“You took your punishment so well,” He purred, “But do you deserve a reward?”

“Please,” Was all you could say, his thumb circling your clit in just the right way as he commanded you from inside with his other fingers. The pleasure made you forget all about how much your ass ached.

He worked you for awhile longer, making sure you were good and frantic, clawing your way toward your orgasm. When he felt your breath speed up and your hips starting to press back into his hand, he stopped, pulling himself out and away from you.

You cried out, the sound leaving you in a desperate way that made him even harder. He pulled you up to face him.

“I can’t let it end like that,” He smirked, sitting back again as you now straddled his lap. He reached up and took hold of your face, stroking your jaw. “I need to be inside you when you come.”

You whimpered, biting your bottom lip and giving him that doe-eyed gaze that drove him wild. The reaction was immediate, his eyes creasing as he let out a gruff sound, pushing his hips up. “You know what to do.”

You reached down and made work of his belt, then undid the pants themselves. You tugged them down along with his boxers impatiently, and he gave you a knowing grin.

“I love when you’re eager, kitten.” He smiled, letting out a sigh as you pulled his cock free.

You pushed yourself up on your knees, taking him between your fingers and angling him under you.

“Ah, ah.” He said, tapping your ass with his hand. It wasn’t hard, but on your already raw skin it stung. “No hands.”

This was his favorite thing to see, and in your fervor you had almost forgotten. You pulled your hand back and instead let yourself sink down onto him, pressing your hips in so he filled you completely, and you both groaned at the first deep stroke.

Your hands fell to his shoulders and you shuddered when he reached the pinnacle of your inner walls, then brought yourself back up. You repeat this motion until  you found a steady rhythm bouncing in his lap, and he watched with eyes creased into small, lustful slits, mouth hanging open. The way his plump lower lip glistened made your mouth water.

He looked up at you then, sensing your eyes on him, and he was so attuned to your every look and motion that he grinned knowingly, placing his hands on your hips and tugging you forward, consuming your mouth in a wet, needy kiss. You moaned into his mouth and slid your hands down the front of him, pulling his shirt open and exposing his chest, only to run your hands along him, making sure you felt every ripple and curve from his shoulders to his pelvis.

Even though he enjoyed it for a moment, he regained control by grabbing you by the wrists and forcing them behind your back, sitting up as he did so. You gasped, but you didn’t falter.

“You want to come?” He said in a lower, raspier voice, his breathing getting shallow.

“Yes, please, sir.” You moved your hips faster. You were so sore from the spanking and emotionally spent from the entire day, but you couldn’t stop, even now as your legs started to ache and sweat beaded on both of your brows.

“Have you earned it, kitten?” He near-growled. “Do you deserve to come on this cock?”

You whimpered, pressing yourself down on him and grinding him inside you. He let out a sound that surprised him, his mouth dropping open and his eyes shutting for a moment.

“Yes, sir.” You cried out, to further prove your case.

He opened his eyes and looked down at where you rocked yourself on him,  his hands tightening on your wrists. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

“I’m close,” You warned, pulling his attention back to your face. He let go of your wrists and held you by your lower back instead, bringing his face close to yours.

“Be a good girl and come for me.”

That was all it took for the floodgates to open, your pleasure rocking through you with every thrust, the friction of his pelvis sending you there almost without warning. As you pushed and pulled against him, he held you down on his cock as he groaned out his own release, filling you with everything he had.

Wonho fell back against the couch and you followed, chests panting unevenly against one another, and heartbeats erratic. He stroked your hair away from your face as you laid against his chest and listened to the blood pump through his veins, slowing until it hit an even rhythm again.

“Come on.” He said then, nudging you up. You brought yourself to your feet and your legs wobbled unsteadily for a moment, and he laughed as he followed you to the bathroom.

He turned on the faucet and made sure the water was as hot as you liked it, then helped you out of your remaining, disheveled clothing. As you sank into the hot water, he removed his own and followed you, situating himself behind you. He pushed some hair away from your shoulder and kissed it.

You hissed as the hot water made contact with your backside, and one of Wonho’s hands slipped into the water and under you, cupping your ass. “How does it feel?” He asked.

“Tender.” You said, nuzzling yourself back into his chest.

“Not too sore, I hope?” He asked, and when you peered over your shoulder at him, his soft eyes made you gooey inside.

“Its fine,” You said, turning yourself around and pecking him on the lips. “I like being sore.”

“You do?” He laughed as you laid your head back on his chest.

“Tomorrow, when I’m going about my day, and I feel that pain, I’ll remember how it got there.” You said with a sly smile, and he stroked a hand down your back.

“I hope it reminds you of what I said.” He placed his chin on top of your head. “That you’re strong, and that you’re always going to be okay as long as I’m around, and even when I’m not.”

You nodded, starting to feel sleepy in his embrace and the warm water lapping up your back. “Yes, sir.”

“Good, kitten.”

[musicalluna]

nice, a sequel

this is a commission for @ishipallthings who requested a sequel to nice

--

It's late spring in Manhattan and the weather's perfect when Steve leaves S.H.I.E.L.D. The sun is warm, but the breeze is cool, and Steve takes a deep breath as he starts toward the bus stop that will take him back toward the Tower. Days like this he likes to stay above ground where he can see the world go by. Today he doesn't pay as much attention to the trip as he normally might—his mind's somewhere else. On someone else.

He and Tony had sat in the kitchen for hours talking and passing the spoon back and forth while they made a considerable dent in the carton of ice cream the night before. With the cat out of the bag, Tony had wanted to know everything about the little gifts, details about the classes Steve was signing up for, which edits he'd liked best. Now that Steve was watching for it, he could see Tony taking mental notes of their conversation. More gifts would come out of it, Steve could feel it to his bones. He'd gone to bed feeling lighter than he had in years. Even now, in the searing spring sunshine, the memory hasn't tarnished. Without asking for anything in return, and without any recognition at all, Tony has been making Steve's life more bearable. Something he's realized as he thought about it is that no one does that for Tony. They ask him for things and thank him when he does them (it's fifty-fifty odds as to whether or not they also give him a hard time). Tony doesn't seem bothered by it or inclined to stop, but it bothers Steve. Now that he's paying attention, he knows he's been less gracious than Tony deserves for all he's done. Ma would be disappointed. Which is why Steve stops by a place on his walk from the stop to pick up a burger and fries. It's not unusual for Tony to show up in the kitchen ravenous because he's forgotten to eat. Bringing him something before he gets to that point isn't much, but it's something Steve can do. He pauses at the door to the workshop and says, “JARVIS, can you ask Tony if I can come in?” JARVIS doesn't respond, but inside the shop, Tony cocks his head and then glances back over his shoulder. Steve waves. Tony says something, and the door opens with a hiss. “To what do I owe the honor?” Tony asks and the question is casual, but there's something guarded in the way Tony looks Steve over. It makes Steve feel worse. Tony does all these nice things for Steve, but he still doesn't trust him. Pushing the thought aside, Steve holds up the bag. “I stopped for lunch, and I thought you might be hungry.” Tony stares in surprise for a moment. Then he gathers himself and says, “Yeah, I could eat.” To say the meal is awkward would be an understatement. Steve doesn't know where the easy conversation from the night before has gone, but he feels like a dolt as they stagger their way through. “Well, I'll see you later,” he says, when they've both finished, and Tony's eyes keep sliding over to the holographic displays nearby. “Oh,” Tony says, a mishmash of emotions crossing his face, “yeah, sure, okay. Thanks for lunch.” “Anytime,” Steve says and then makes a not-too-hasty retreat. That had been a disaster. Steve can't understand it, and he wants to, so he goes to the gym and starts going through his routine with the bag, trying to break things down like he would after a battle. He's nearly thirty minutes in when it hits him—Steve had come in the afternoon after finding out Tony's been giving him all these gifts and immediately given something to Tony and stood right there. Steve had liked that he didn't feel pressured to react in a certain way or to reciprocate the mystery nice person's gestures. Maybe that's why Tony had done it that way in the first place, and Steve's gone and put that exact pressure on him. “I have to be more subtle,” he realizes aloud. “Aim for the stars, Cap,” Clint calls from across the room. Steve swipes a wrist across his forehead and shoots Clint a dirty look. “I didn't ask the peanut gallery.” Clint grins toothily at him. “I offer my nuggets of wisdom freely.” “Let me offer you a nugget,” Steve retorts. “Don't.” – Before Steve gets a chance to try again, Tony beats him to the punch. Steve has an appointment with S.H.I.E.L.D. medical. He despises medical, but he recognizes that it's necessary to do regular checkups to be sure he's recovered from old injuries and to make sure he's healthy. Anything he might catch could easily kill the other Avengers. Better safe than sorry. He's not sure how Tony finds him, but he strides out of a hallway Steve passes on his way to medical and falls into step with Steve. His eyes are hidden behind a dark pair of sunglasses, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. “Hey, there, Cap. Where you headed?” “Medical.” Tony glances over at him, sunglasses glinting under the fluorescents. “Care for some company?” It's embarrassing, but Steve does. The idea of Tony watching on while the doctors poke and prod at him relaxes the knot in his belly. Tony won't let them do anything they shouldn't. “I'd like that,” he says, and Tony's mouth curls slightly at the corners. “You got it, Cap.” Tony talks the whole way to the medbay and hardly lets up once they get there. He talks about his projects and asks Steve questions to help him with the new advanced helmet he's working on for Steve. He wants to put a heads-up display into the eye holes. While the doctors put him through the shoulder maneuvers for the physical exam inspecting his muscles and joints, Steve tells Tony what kinds of information would be useful in a HUD and what would just be a distraction. Tony keeps trying to talk him into adding things, and Steve keeps patiently reminding him that as smart as the serum made him, he's still no Tony Stark. It makes Tony look quietly pleased. “Come on, Cap, I think you're underestimating the amount of data you can process.” Steve chuckles. “No, you're overestimating it, Smart Guy.” Tony's presence makes the appointment go by that much faster, and it should be uncomfortable doing all this in his skivvies while Tony watches on, but Tony keeps his eyes firmly on Steve's face and at this point, the more naked he is, the more comfortable he is with Tony there. He knows Tony will have his back. It's a funny, warm realization. – Steve's next attempt to be nice is less showy. Tony doesn't even see him doing it, because what he does is guard the coffee pot so there are still a couple mugs worth of Tony's favorite in the carafe when he comes to the kitchen. It takes a week worth of watching Tony to see what coffee types he likes best, JARVIS' help keeping track of his movements, and Clint being annoyed with him, but he does it. It makes him proud, and the satisfaction of watching Tony's contented expression as he takes his first sip motivates him to think of more things he can do to make Tony happy. Once he remembers Tony saying that's why he started doing it, that makes it much more comfortable. He's beginning to recognize what Tony looks like when he's happy and starts scribbling notes in his sketchbook alongside his doodles whenever he notices something in particular. Tony always seems pleased by gifts, even when they're stupid things like Natasha giving him a sauce packet from a restaurant with Iron Man on it, so Steve keeps his eyes peeled when he goes out and picks things out occasionally. A scarf with gold flecks that reminds him of Tony's eyes, an itty bitty Iron Man figurine, a pack of his favorite snack, anything that makes him think of Tony. Once he buys Tony a piece of art—a painting of the reflection of a chrome bumper—and Tony's face when he presents it to him makes him flush and start to draw back. “NO,” Tony says loudly, and grabs hold of one edge of the painting. “It's mine now. Thank you.” Steve swallows, his heart pounding at the base of his throat. Tony's fingers are touching his, and he feels completely unmoored. “You're welcome,” he finally manages. – It doesn't occur to him how much things have changed between him and Tony until he goes to the SI R&D department to deliver fifteen bags of take out because Tony had told him his team was working sixteen hour days trying to fix something that had gone wrong. Tony smiles as he watches the team dig into the bags, but it's heavy on his face, his eyes lined and his face a little gray. Steve curls a hand around the back of his neck and says, “Hey. You all right?” Tony looks at him and sighs. “As all right as I can be. My back hurts, and it feels like my brain's bleeding, but sure.” Steve squeezes his neck lightly. “Well, I can't do anything about the brain bleed, but I could rub your back?” He realizes immediately how intimate what he's proposing is, but before he can think better of it, Tony says, “Could you really? I might die.” That settles it and Steve nods. “Of course. It may not be very good, but I've got strong hands.” “You've got strong everything,” Tony mutters. “Come on.” He leads Steve over to one of the conference rooms and slumps down on to the nearest armless chair backward, pressing his face into the leather back. Steve puts his hands on Tony's shoulders but doesn't start in intense right away. He rubs his palms slowly over Tony's back, kneading lightly with his fingers, but not using too much pressure. He drags the tips of his fingers across Tony's shoulders and then down either side of his spine, just getting him used to the touch. After maybe five minutes, Tony's posture softens, and he leans heavily into the chair back, the tension slowly easing out of his shoulders. That's when Steve starts massaging more deeply, using his whole hands to squeeze the muscles and pressing harder. Tony groans. It gives Steve an immense sense of satisfaction to see Tony come apart like that, bit by bit.  There's something about it that just makes him feel accomplished, like he's done something that really needed doing. He keeps at it for the better part of half an hour. By that time Tony's slumped against the chair back, his face mashed into the leather, arms dangling loosely at his sides. Steve's pretty sure there's drool on the chair. “Ngh,” Tony finally grunts. “'f I don't go back I never will.” Steve slows his hands, kneading more lightly at Tony's shoulders. “All right. Let me know if there's anything else I can do.” “Help me up?” Tony asks. Steve helps him find his feet, steadying Tony when he wobbles precariously. Tony's face is right there, his eyes hooded and his breath warm on Steve's jaw. Steve freezes, staring directly into Tony's eyes and he watches them widen the slightest bit, Tony's breathing suddenly stuttering. His skin is warm under Steve's hand where he's still touching him, lingering on his skin because Tony's shirt is unbuttoned halfway and his collar's open and he smells like espresso and sweat and the lotion Steve had grabbed off a nearby counter at some point. Steve's heart is beating so hard in his chest it feels like being small and weak again, it feels like tachycardia, it feels like panic and anticipation and an urgency he hasn't felt for anyone since he said goodbye to Peggy seventy years ago. Realization takes his breath away. Oh. Oh. That's why he wanted so badly to give back to Tony. Why he wanted to see him happy. It's not gratitude, and it's not teambuilding, or it is, but it's all buried under the need to see Tony happy, thriving. He's in love with Tony. He doesn't know when exactly it happened but now that he's staring at it—Tony—straight in the face, he knows that's exactly what this is. At his back, the door opens, and panic lurches up Steve's throat. He steps back, letting go of Tony so fast he tips forward a little. Steve turns his head enough to see Pepper peering around the door. “Tony?” she says. “Here you are, they've been looking for you. Oh, Steve. Hello.” Steve reacts on pure habit and nods his head. “Ma'am.” He winces the minute it's out of his mouth because Pepper told him a long time ago that she didn't want him calling her ma'am or Miss Potts unless they worked together which they did not. She doesn't seem to notice though, busy approaching Tony who's trying to get his shirt back in order. Steve flushes as he watches them, suddenly all too aware of how this must look, him and Tony squirreled away in a conference room, Tony looking mussed and dopey. With an intensity that surprises him, Steve finds himself wishing that was precisely what had happened, and that Pepper knew it. “...lost track of time,” Tony is saying. “Captain America gave me a massage.” He sounds smug, and Pepper smiles indulgently at him. “Well, that was very nice of him, you needed something like that. Unfortunately, we need you back out there being brilliant now.” “Story of my life,” Tony sighs, but it's in good humor. “I should go,” Steve blurts, “let you get back to work.” “Hey, thanks, Steve. I feel a million times better.” Steve nods and smiles and flees. – Steve goes out to a coffee shop where he can get some distance and think. He does this often enough that he has a usual spot and one of the baristas smiles at him from where they're wiping down the other tables as he sits down. He sketches while he considers the piano that fell on his head while he was with Tony. He's interested in Tony as more than a friend. This isn't the first time he's felt something like this, and it's not even the first time he's taken a shine to another man, but. Well, he'd been aware of it then, it hadn't hit him like Thor's hammer out of seemingly nowhere. He feels guilty for it because if he'd only been doing nice things for Tony out of some kind of attempt to get Tony's attention that was wrong. As his sketch of the shop storefront develops though, the guilt fades. He hadn't been doing them to get Tony's attention, he'd been doing it to see Tony happy. As happy as Tony had made him. Steve's breath catches and his pencil stills on the page. Was that why Tony had done it? “You deserve to be happy, Steve.” The thought that Tony might reciprocate Steve's feelings fills him with a giddy bubble of happiness. When Tony has some time, Steve will talk to him and find out if he's right. – When he gets home, it's early evening, and Steve is feeling loose and contented, still warm with the thought that there may be something between him and Tony they can explore. He brightens when he walks into the kitchen to find Tony in his rumpled dress shirt leaning against the island countertop. He's grinning across it at Clint who has his hands thrown up in the air. “A dog park!” “Yes,” Tony says, voice thick with amusement. He takes a bite of the breadstick in his hand. “In the Tower!” “Where else would I put it?” Tony asks. “Lucky should be able to run around with his friends.” “You're unbelievable,” Clint says, which is his way of saying thank you. Tony grins. “I know.” Clint throws a wadded up napkin at Tony's head as he leaves. “Send pictures!” Tony yells after him. Then he catches sight of Steve and his smile widens. “Steve, hey. Thanks again for earlier.” Steve shrugs. “You needed it. What was Clint all worked up about?” Tony returns his shrug. “I had a dog park installed on the fifteenth floor. A high-rise isn't the best environment for a dog, you know? Clint doesn't get up early enough to take Lucky to Central for the off-leash hours, and SI's got plenty of employees with dogs—I figured why not?” “That's awfully nice of you, Tony,” Steve says, feeling his heart sink to his feet. Maybe he's not so special to Tony after all. – Steve feels like a heel for his reaction to discovering Tony does nice things for the others. He should be happy that Tony is a good, kind person who does stuff like this for no reason. It's part of what Steve loves about him after all. Despite the logic of that, he's jealous. He wanted to mean something more to Tony, that's all. It's embarrassing, how badly he misinterpreted things. More than ever, he owes Tony repayment for all the good things he's done. He just...can't quite face Tony with how foolish he's been, so he does his best to repay Tony's kindness without interacting with him directly. Natasha watches him enter the kitchen one morning just after Tony's left—Steve had waited in the hallway until he'd heard him leave. “Steve,” she says tone heavy with unspoken words. Steve grimaces at the coffee pot. “What's going on with you and Tony?” she asks, and he sighs. Of course she knows. “Nothing,” he says, knowing it's a feeble denial at best. “Mhm.” She sips her tea judgmentally. “Did he—say something?” Steve asks, voice getting stuck part way through the question. “Why, what would he say, Steve?” Steve shakes his head, feeling the back of his neck grow hot. “Nothing. That I know of.” “Which is why you waited in the hall until he left.” Steve's heart throbs, caught out. Natasha sighs. Steve slinks back out of the kitchen with his coffee, feeling guilty. Later, he's in the gym (after making sure Tony isn't, of course) and Clint strides in with a sigh. “Steve, man, I love you, but what the hell did you do?” Steve pauses his workout, wiping a hand across his sweaty forehead. “Uhh…?” Clint throws something at him—a small piece of paper that Steve catches against his chest. When he lowers his hand to see what it is, the paper drifts into his palm and Steve's throat goes tight. “Where did you get this?” he rasps. “Tony gave it to me and told me to give it to you.” Tony. The small paper is a photograph. He doesn't know who took it or where or how, but it's a photo of him and Peggy. There's a hand on Steve's shoulder in the picture that he's almost positive is Bucky. “Why's Tony giving things to me to give to you instead of giving them to you himself.” “What?” Steve says and tears his gaze away from the photo. “He made me an errand boy. Whatever you did, fix it, Steve.” Clint kicks him in the ankle, none too gently, and leaves. Steve looks at the photograph again, his heart clenching like a fist in his chest. He's never seen this one before, and Peggy looks… For a moment, the loss yawns so wide and dark inside him it feels inescapable. Then he remembers why he has this photo, and he swallows down his embarrassment and disappointment and heads down to Tony's workshop. Tony is sitting at his workbench working with a screwdriver and some kind of electronic with a hologram hovering close by feeding him readouts. “Tony,” he calls, “I can't...I can't accept this.” Tony pauses in his work and then turns slowly, one eyebrow rising up his forehead. “What exactly do you think I'm going to do with it?” Steve doesn't know how to answer that. Tony planned this he realizes when he meets Tony's eye. Tony's lips press into a thin line, and he whaps the screwdriver against the meat of his palm. “Why'd you stop talking to me, Steve?” Steve swallows, pulling the photo back in toward his body. Miserably, he says, “I'm sorry, Tony. I keep trying to fix this, and I just keep making it worse. I thought if I got some distance I could stop myself.” Tony frowns. “Stop yourself from what?” Steve closes his eyes, chin dropping. “Stop myself from being a jealous jackass.” He sighs. “Obviously I'm not doing a very good job.” “Jealous?” Tony echoes. “Jealous of what?” Steve scrubs his face with his hands. The sweat from his workout has dried, itchy and uncomfortable on the back of his neck. “I thought… I thought I was special. That maybe...you were doing these things—” He holds up the photo. “—because you—” Steve trails off, grimacing. “But then you gave Clint the dog park and—” He sighs again. “It's nothing you did, Tony, honest.” “Hang on—you're jealous because I gave Clint the dog park?” “I shouldn't be upset that you're a good guy, Tony, but—” “But you are.” “That's not why I'm upset!” Tony gives him a profoundly skeptical look. “I'm upset because I thought it—meant something.” Steve is mortified when Tony stares at him. He starts backing toward the door, hands raised. “I'm sorry—Tony, I'm sorry, I am. I'm going to—stop, I promise.” “Hang on,” Tony says, raising his voice, and Steve freezes. Then, very carefully, Tony says, “Steve, how many dog park-like things have I done for you?” Steve shrugs, uncomfortable. “Dozens, maybe?” “And do you know how many I've done for Barton?” Steve shakes his head. “One,” Tony says. Then after a beat, “Okay maybe two or three. A handful. But nowhere near the dozens I've done for you. Do you know why that is?” Steve swallows, his heart suddenly beating faster in his chest. Tony's eyes are intense, his lips trembling ever-so-slightly. “Because you're different, Steve.” Steve can't find his voice around his pounding heart. He's special to Tony and Tony's a good, kind person. “You're...something else, Tony,” he finally croaks. “I hope someday I can be half the man that you are.” Tony's eyes go wide, his tongue darting out nervously over his bottom lip. He gives Steve an uncertain, puzzled smile. “You're Captain America,” he says like that's half as important as Tony constantly working himself to the bone to make the people around him happy and, not only that, to keep the world around him safe. Steve is just a sickly kid from Brooklyn with something to prove. He shakes his head. “Tony, you fight the little everyday battles alongside the world-changing ones. You're the reason I can keep fighting at all.” “I think you're underselling yourself.” “I think you're underselling yourself.” Tony's mouth twitches upward on one side, and he twists the screwdriver between his hands. “So...you think I'm pretty great. And I think you get where I'm coming from now. So.” His eyes flicker to Steve's. “What now?” “Well,” Steve says, taking a slow step forward. “My last good kiss was in 1945.” A grin blooms over Tony's face, brightening until Steve feels like he's going to burst with the warmth filling him up.

[blackrose-ffxiv]

Last Project 10/03

Luke Gravespast had been working, bad on the desk and instead of the usual metal, there was instead the far more refined work of someone who knew more of their way around magitek than not.  A small pile of shavings where he'd slimly installed the /panic/ button in to the elezen's desk and around the room he'd slightly shifted things so that he could chip some of the flooring's mortar out and hide the system.  He was working in relative quite, though, the blacksmith focus and occasionally pulling out and then giving up and putting goggles on his forehead and flicking them down so that he could focus more easily.  He looked like an Ironworks transplant but shabbier, the shirt showing the ash and debris that smelting and metal work came with.  And his workboots were that just a bit mud-crusted that promised Lebeaux might check his carpets out later on to see if there was any new filth tracked in.  There likely wouldn't be, but Luke liked to taunt in sly ways.  Innocent ones, too!

Lebeaux Desrosiers had originally planted himself on the edge of the desk, the better to bother the blacksmith. But a few ‘accidental’ sprays of wood shavings had driven the medic away to take up residence on one of the chairs in the office, pushed back far enough that he could put his heels up on the desktop. Because it was his desk and his boots weren’t filthy like some heathens’. A journal sat open in his lap as he flipped through pages, but made no notes. His right hand rested on his lap while his left turned sheets of parchment and did his best to ignore the sound of his precious tiling being defaced. “How do you manage to make so much noise while chipping such a small section of mortar away.” He complained idly, for something to do more than anything else.

Luke hadn't even brought out the saws to cut through tile - that was a battle he'd deal with after he'd gotten most of the office laid through, instead, snorting and waving his hand absently - in what could have been a rude gesture, if Lebeaux would recognize such a base thing - before he continued to chip away on the tiling, fitting the slim track in and following up behind his delicate inlay work with a seal of mortar behind it.  Maybe the elezen wouldn't even object to the fact that he'd brought an undiscussed but useful addition he was going to work on making the elezen pay for installing.

Lebeaux didn’t even bother looking up from the journal he was flipping through as he complained. It was more for the sake of hearing his own voice than having any real grievances to air, thus far. There was a knock at the door, the first had been drowned out by petty chipping, then the medic glanced up and placed fingers of his left hand over his finger. “Oh, I nearly forgot.” He said cheerfully. “I’ve invited company.” Lebeaux lowered his hand and called out, “the door is open, come in.” He then closed the journal and set it aside, slipping his left hand into his pocket as he waited to see who would come waltzing through the door. Gloved fingers tracing the curves of a tiny two-shot pistol. Just in case.

Luke paused his work a moment and narrowed his eyes in suspicion at Lebeaux. "...who'd y' soddin' invite, then?"  He spent a moment or two dusting the chipped mortar away, and sat back as he just went to patching the mortar up.

Daijiro Satake steps inside, his soft slippers barely making any noise. He closes in and offers a deep bow in the formal, eastern style. "Ser Desrosiers. What a pleasure to see you again. Thank you for the invitation." His gaze then flicked over to the other fellow.

“A potential client so mind your mouth.” Lebeaux suggested calmly as Daijiro shuffled into the office. He didn’t bother getting up. Nor did he move his hand from his pocket. “Good afternoon, Daijiro. Welcome to my office, please excuse the dust I am in the midst of renovations.” He nodded towards the blond. “This is Luke Gravespast. The terribly clever blacksmith I keep praising so highly. Luke, this is Daijiro Satake. The Hingan merchant with deep pockets I’ve mentioned.” Charge him triple.

Luke stood up slowly, dusting himself off as he grinned at the newcomer and tried to look a little less chipped mortar dust.  Silver eyes took in the garb and while he looked slightly baffled with expression, an affable but confused at dress smile on his face, his eyes were almost noting bits of details.  He was almost comical in looking like he'd stepped into a possible embarrassment, offering a hand out when the man approached.  "Pleasure t' meet'y, then, aye?" He recalled the arrangement.

Daijiro introduced himself in the correct order, despite Lebeaux' efforts. "Satake Daijiro." He bowed first, then reluctantly offered his hand to the man. His own hands were soft, not calloused by even a single day of manual labour. Even so, if Lucien gripped the others' hand, the Hingan would not immediately let go, instead turning his own palm down so that he might look more closely at Lucien's fingers. "Ah."

Lebeaux smiled serenely as he eased the safety back onto the pistol and took his hand from his pocket, settling the left to join the right in his lap as he continued reclining comfortably. “Oh, yes. Daijiro is already intimately familiar with some of your work. He’s witnessed it first hand. Or rather first hands, I suppose.” He offered cheerfully. “He was so taken by them, he asked to keep one for himself. And now he seems rather keen to acquire your services with other projects.”

Daijiro studies Lucien's fingers while he waits for Lebeaux to answer that particular inquiry, seeming to make a mental note of each and every digit, his lips set in a smile. "Such delicate hands. They must be vital for your work", he remarked, then letting go, his reddish eyes fixing in Lucien's face.

Lebeaux rolled a shoulder lightly then removed his boots from the desk to sit up properly. “Daijiro, I have reminded Luke to mind his manners while there are guests present. I will ask you to do the same.” He rose to his feet to fetch a smoking box from one of the bookshelves. “As for the mate, I have it here. Safely tucked away should I ever have use, though now it’s more of a symbol than an actual tool.”

Daijiro smiles. "A symbol of our friendship" he echoes after Lebeaux. He then moves to sit himself on one of the chairs, looking up at the other. "Ah, I am so very curious. Are you about to finish up a major projects? Or perhaps your last project for my Ishgardian friend?"

Luke snorted as he tugged his hand back, folding his arms defensively as he looked off from the elezen to the Hingan.  The only thing keeping him from hunching his shoulders might've been the fact that he wasn't able to trust either of the two if they - his mouth twitched at 'friendship'.  "M' hands 're vital fer m' work, can't work with broken fingers," he muttered, shifting as Daijiro sat down.  "An' 'm doin' ah job fer Lebs 'ere, aye?  Somethin' took ah bit 've suns t' make, too."

Daijiro nods. "Of course. Your hands are very important to you. I understand. Surely nothing bad will happen to them~." He then smiles at Lebeaux. "Then is this introduction a sign of our rekindled friendship? How long until he finishes his last commission for you, Ser?"

“Luke has also been contracted by Kasumi to do some work for the Tradehouse.” Lebeaux noted as he set the box down on the desk and began preparing a pipe with his left hand. Plain tobacco mixed with spices for flavor and fragrance rather than somnus for the moment. “The integrity of his fingers are rather important to many interests beyond my own.” In case Daijiro decided to start breaking them simply to be petty. “I did promise to introduce you, and I made arrangements with Luke.” For referral discounts. “Sure he can juggle two projects at once. So long as you speak slowly.”

Daijiro hums. "Oh. I see that I've misjudged you. I thought you were bringing me a gift." He gestures to Luke without looking at him. "But then, revenge will have to wait until another life. Such a pity." He looks back to Lucien. "Please be forgiven for this misunderstanding, Ser. I do have an intimate familiarity with your craftsmanship, and I /am/ curious what else you can do with those hands intact. After all, I have a sound interest in keeping Kasumi happy.~"

Lebeaux exhaled a low chuckle as he brought the pipe to his lips and lit it. “I have laid quite a gift in your lap by introducing him to you. What you do with it from there is up to you.” He noted calmly as he exhaled a cloud of spiced smoke before holding the pipe out to Daijiro. “Pay him and see what he can make for you. Break his fingers so he can’t finish my project. Throw him in the river so no one can ever commission him again.” He suggested calmly, keeping his gaze on the Hingan.

Luke shifted on his feet, as the two gave him the space to just about get his back to a wall.  Nothing like feeling like you'd accidentally come to a hangout with some bloodshrieks while suffering the bleeding from a bad fist or knife fight... to Daijiro he gave a flash of a warm smile, just a touch uncertain at the edges of it. "Ah, aye, 'm still doin' me work fer Miss Gakunin, an' tha Tradehouse-" and he was an employee of it too, and then Lebeaux continued to speak and the slight edge of humor left his face and he looked at the pair, a bare shift as he let his hand rest casually on his tools hanging from his belt, just in case he needed a weapon. Claw hammers were useful at least. "...'r y' soddin' pay me fer work, an' nau' do tha' suggestion an' we's c'n end up somethin' useful fer each other," he offered.

Daijiro frowns. "I'm afraid I do not follow." He looks to Lebeaux. "Ah, could you translate? It is shameful though. I thought myself the sort of personage who has a knack for languages."

@glowinggunmetal  @grey-lotus-ffxiv

[sarcastic--fantastic]

Olympics, Music, Broadcasting And A Sense Of British Pride

This will be a bit different from previous posts, but it’s something I’ve wanted to talk about for a while. This is a story set in the Summer of 2012, and focuses on music, animation and technology used by the BBC in their television programming for the London Olympics.

A Mammoth Preparation

(photo courtesy of LOCOG, photographer unknown)

Let me set the scene - it’s a cold wet Winter in the British Isles, preparations are well under way for the Games of the XXX Olympiad and the XIV Paralympics, more commonly known as the London 2012 Summer Olympic and Paralympic Games happening the following year in July. Venues are having their finishing touches added to them, the London Mayor’s office is planning transport links for the huge surge in visitors, athletes are training in their home countries to get ready for the Games and the BBC are laying out their plans for television and radio coverage. Before anything kicked off, the hype was big enough in the UK that they even made a mockumentary about organising the Games.

I don’t work in media (yet), I certainly don’t work in the BBC but I can have an idea about the huge undertaking that broadcasting the Olympic Games (in the British Broadcasting Corporation’s home country and city) must be. And for 2012, the BBC were going full out; they planned to broadcast all 5000 hours of sport across 27 channels including the red button, Sky, Freeview, Freesat and online.

There’s a lot to prepare like: what programming they’re going to have and what features they want to produce and what filming locations they will be at and which presenters and commentators they want and what additional visual and audio equipment they’ll need and all the hundreds of behind the scenes crew that come with that as well as additional systems they need to set up to facilitate such a large amount of television being sent over the airways. And a big chunk of the BBC’s coverage is live which adds a whole layer of complexities.

I could quite easily nerd-out on the audio-visual and broadcasting technicalities the BBC/OBS (Olympic Broadcasting Services) set up for the 2012 Olympics like suspending the BBC Parliament channel to make room for more sport and how the Games were broadcast in 3D across the world but that’s not the main focus of this post today.

A Song For The Olympics

The BBC isn’t new to this shindig - they’ve broadcast live coverage of every Summer Olympic Games since 1960. A small but significant part of this coverage is a theme tune and a title sequence, and that’s actually what this post is about.

In November 2011, it was announced that Elbow, an English alternative/indie rock band would compose the soundtrack for the BBC’s Olympic coverage. This is on the back of the 2008 Beijing Summer Olympic Games, in which Jamie Hewlett and Damon Albarn (the musicians behind the British virtual band Gorillaz) produced music and animation for the opening titles.

"This builds on our recent tradition of using great British contemporary artists to deliver our music, as we did with Damon Albarn in 2008; and we reckon Elbow have a unique combination of credibility - hence their Mercury Prize - with a style that can be enjoyed by people of all ages." - Roger Mosely, BBC's Director of London 2012. [source]

"For our music to be sound-tracking it, there was a big feeling of responsibility but also we're just dead proud to be doing it. And strange as well with none of us really being athletic." - Guy Garvey, lead singer of Elbow. [source]

The BBC asked Elbow to come in and consult on composing the soundtrack. It’s reported they said: “if we asked you to do the Olympic theme, what would you do?” Garvey was told he had been invited along because of Elbow's 2008 single One Day Like This (an epic, anthemic, art-rocky track), which has been used on countless sport montages. Garvey replied: “Well, we can give you something similarly rousing. Something anthemic and bold. And we'd put lots of different parts in it for different parts of the coverage.”

And that is just what they did.

First Steps - Elbow (A.K.A. BBC London 2012 Summer Olympics Theme)

(First Steps cover art courtesy of Elbow and the BBC, artist unknown)

YouTube Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kj3_3vvHDwE

Lyrics: https://genius.com/Elbow-first-steps-lyrics

The track isn’t available on Spotify or officially from Elbow due to it being a commission by the BBC (of which royalties were waived in support for charity). Additionally, it was only released as a digital-download through selected retailers, none of which still seem to be selling it. So unfortunately this YouTube rip is the best quality I could find.

“First Steps” by Elbow is an epic 6 minute 21 second lasting tidal wave of sound that hits you with incredible emotion. The anthem was composed in secret by Elbow in Salford over the 2011-2012 Winter and recorded with the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra and the NovaVox gospel choir in Spring. Although the full version lasts more than six minutes, it was intentionally composed to allow different clips of one or two minutes to be played during montages of winners or losers. Additionally 40, 30 and five second edits along with a title sequence were used throughout the BBC’s London 2012 campaign.

The first bars of it would be aired around the time of the torch relay beginning in May 2012, with the full work revealed near to the Olympic Games opening ceremony. A one-minute edit of the track, accompanied with video sequence (more on that later) was first shown on BBC One during half-time of the UEFA Euro 2012 final on Sunday 1 July 2012. A four-minute edit of the track was premiered on Chris Evans' Breakfast Show on BBC Radio 2 on Friday 27 July 2012 (the morning of the opening ceremony). It was used in the opening and closing title sequences of BBC Sport’s Olympics coverage on the first and final days of the Olympics as well as throughout the Games.

"It should be just about the most heard piece of music in 2012." - Roger Mosely, BBC's Director of London 2012. [source]

"I've written something called First Steps. The song can be parents looking with pride at their kid walking for the first time, but also those hopes and aspirations - marvelling at what's going on, the human element of it - translates quite well to watching your finest athletes doing their very best." - Guy Garvey, lead singer of Elbow. [source]

It is in my opinion the perfect backdrop to an incredible event and an important time for the country as a whole. It’s so jaw-droppingly powerful and inspiring, it gives me goosebumps every time I listen to it and I have to commend everyone who worked on the track for such an accomplishment of music. Furthermore, Elbow are such nice chaps that they even waived all fees and royalites from digital downloads of the track in support of Children In Need (a BBC charity and annual fundraising telethon).

But this is only half the story, as while the music is incredible and served as brilliant theme/incidental/identity music for BBC Sport throughout their Olympic coverage - they still needed a title sequence.

Stadium UK - Red Bee Media (A.K.A. BBC London 2012 Summer Olympics Title Sequence)

(BBC Olympics 2012 wallpaper courtesy of BBC Sport, artist unknown)

Full Sequence (YouTube rip): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4cVrjFlt4hI

Shortened Trailer (original quality): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ViLiXA0E70

“Stadium UK”, named for the concept (seen in the sequence) of a giant stadium encircling the UK with athletes preparing and competing in a variety of landscapes, was devised by creative agency Rainey Kelly Campbell Roalfe Y&R. The animation was created by Passion Pictures and it was produced by Red Bee Media in conjunction with the BBC and Elbow.

The anthemic composition and the accompanying visuals were intended to sum up the achievement of reaching the Olympics, the emotions of those who win and those who do not, and the coming together of the whole country to support the event. The title was inspired by a child of one of the band members of Elbow learning to walk during the composition of the song, symbolising the hope and achievement of the moment.

As previously mentioned, this “trailer for the Olympics” was first shown during the Euro 2012 final and many more times leading up to the Opening Ceremony. It’s hard to get across the collective hype that was being experienced in Britain before the start of the London Olympics, because for a lot of people it would be a once in a lifetime event that simply couldn’t be missed. Olympic fever was really was everywhere you went. In the news, on signposts, in casual workplace conversation, on banners in pubs. To be fair though, us Brits love a big ol’ national celebration, we’d done the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee just a month prior.

“Across the 17 days of the Games, some 24 million viewers watched at least 15 minutes of our Red Button service - and what was particularly gratifying is that all the different sports proved to be a draw for the audience, with each of those 24 'channels' receiving at least 100,000 viewers at some point.” -  Ben Gallop, BBC Sport Editor. [source]

I can say with some degree of certainty that this Summer in 2012 was one of the biggest, and uncharacteristically, happiest moments for the country in many years. Many people were still reeling from the 2008 recession, the coalition government was struggling to co-operate following the 2010 general election and resulting hung-parliament and just a year ago many major English towns were something akin to a war-zone during the 2011 riots. The Olympics were a distraction, and the relative importance of sporting contests can be argued, but what can’t be is how much of a mood-lifter it was for much of the population. This title sequence got people excited - it had a major impact as it showcased the best of Britain. It not only reminded people that some of our own athletes are some of the best in the whole world, but that the upcoming Games would be a chance to show the world all of the wonderful, impressive and sometimes strange things about the United Kingdom. And that was something to look forward to.

A Legacy For Decades

(Ellie Simmonds’ golden postbox photo courtsey of Express and Star news)

The impact of the 2012 Olympics continues to this day, mainly in the form of sport centres with signs that say “home of the 2012 Olympic [sport] events” and golden postboxes on the sides of streets emblazoned with the names of winning athletes. The BBC have long since scaled back their broadcasting following the conclusion of the Games although due to the huge and somewhat slightly unexpected huge popularity of their coverage, many features of those Games’ coverage that were being trialled for the first time were implemented in wider usage must faster than they would have been without the Games. Notably; Twitter and social media interaction, live-blogs on the BBC Sport website and additional Red Button live broadcasting, which has been re-used for basically every Wimbledon tennis tournament since.

Elbow’s music hasn’t been entirely forgotten either (I hope this post proves that). I heard it recently during the BBC’s coverage of the annual London Marathon, they’re certainly getting mileage out of it. And why not re-use it for future sporting events, the track’s emotion and feeling is just as applicable to something like the London Marathon as it is to the Olympics. Not mentioned up until now but there was actually an official song for the London 2012 Olympic Games called “Survival”, by another English rock band: Muse. It does deserve a very honourable mention as Muse are a great band and it’s a brilliant song, but it’s very different in style and I would argue is not what people think of when you ask the question “what was the music for the 2012 Olympics?”. There were also two soundtrack albums for the Opening and Closing Ceremonies of the Olympic and Paralympic Games, but these are mainly live cover performances from those ceremonies.

To conclude, the London 2012 Olympic and Paralympic Games were incredible, and I get rather patriotic when talking about them. Bar a few controversies it was largely a huge success. Millions of people who were not able to attend events in person were able to be part of the action thanks to the impeccable British Broadcasting Corporation. Fantastic programming and coverage, great features and analysis and one stellar title sequence and music track. We all know the on-screen presenters but I don’t think the behind-the-scenes crew get nearly enough praise - so personally I would like to say thank you to those hundreds upon hundreds of people who worked thankless tasks so people like me could be a part of one of the greatest events this country’s ever hosted. And thanks to Elbow, for a work of musical genius, that continues to inspire and send chills down the spine of every hopeful athlete or just plain old regular person to this day.

Further Reading

A couple more things to mention before I close out this mammoth of a blog post (not many I promise). The BBC and Elbow produced a 10-minute behind the scenes video outlining the process of creating “First Steps”, which I highly recommend watching.

BBC Article: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/av/entertainment-arts-18960004/london-2012-how-bbc-olympics-theme-tune-first-steps-was-made

YouTube Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R5WfsWF4dfE

Additionally I do recommend this short VT featuring Benedict Cumberbatch, which was used to open BBC Sport’s Olympic coverage. He quite succinctly sums up many of my feelings towards the Games.

RadioTimes has a very lengthy article where they talk to Guy Harvey about First Steps and his Olympic thoughts, which you can read here.

BBC Sport Editor, Ben Gallop talks in-depth about the preparation and technology of broadcasting the Olympic Games in a blog post, which you can read here.

BBC Director Of London 2012, Roger Mosely, lists in detail the staggering TV output and staffing amounts for the summer Games in a blog post, which you can read here.

You may also want to the read the Wikipedia articles for the 2012 Summer Olympic Games and the 2012 Summer Paralympic Games for more information than just the broadcasting and BBC music I’ve talked about here.

Final note, I’ve only talked about the BBC’s Olympic broadcasting in this post. In the UK, Channel 4 (that’s the name of the organisation) have held the rights to Paralympic Games broadcasting for however many years and had their own idents and music.

Finally, if you did make it through to the end, thank you very much for reading. This took several days to put together and a lot of research (very easy to start going down rabbit holes), so I hope you learnt something and liked what I wrote. Comments appreciated. 

See you soon :).

[asaspro-blog]

Survey Results & Recruitment Picks (Also Apology)

New Post: https://fortnite.asas.pro/survey-results-recruitment-picks-also-apology/

#fortnite #game #fun #esport #news

Survey Results & Recruitment Picks (Also Apology)

TL;DR: Sorry for the delay of results and recruitment, was a crazy week for me. The survey ended as expected, with many people having negative feelings towards SBMM. There will be future surveys.

If you don't care for a wall of text, please leave now! I felt this post was unavoidable to keep short. Sorry not sorry.

An Apology

Hello everyone! I would like to start off by saying sorry for the delay of results. The previous two weeks were extremely busy and consumed most of my time. I appreciate all of you that have been messaging me to remind me to get this stuff done.

Furthermore, I would like to apologize to all the people that applied to my previous recruitment post and have not heard back. Rest assured, I have made my picks. (Spoiler: You can see them further down)

Survey Results

You can view the original post here

Brief Summary

I am sure everyone had a general idea of what to expect from the survey, and this definitely did solidify what most people already believed. Most people really do not like the idea of any Skill Based Matchmaking (SBMM) implementation. Rest assured, Epic Games has heard your fears and I have been told they would never consider such a feature without first strongly considering the myriad of variables it takes to get it right.

Noteworthy Results

Even after reiterating it many times, many people still believe I work for Epic Games and that the survey was somehow Epic related. Regardless, I enjoyed reading how much you think Epic is ruining the game with their "bullshit updates and emotes".

One thing I noticed coming up in discussion a lot is the type of player the average Redditor represents. Most people were under the belief that the average Reddit user was not casual, but in fact there is an almost 50/50 split between players that consider themselves to be a casual and competitive player.

In terms of the actual implementation of SBMM, there was definitely a common theme. Of those that believed it could work, the most common (and basic) answer was for it to exist as a separate mode. I personally believe that if any sort of ranked mode were to be implemented, that is how it would be.

Surprisingly, 15% of you think that a SBMM implementation should not be a separate mode! This (rather high in my opinion) percentage may be due to misinterpreting what the question was asking, but otherwise would mean that the community is wrong in how much everyone hates the idea.

Overwatch, Counter Strike, and the token (ticket) system. Many respondents who felt like being more passionate tended towards a couple categories. Overwatch and CS:GO were common games cited as doing matchmaking well. A token/ticket system was also a common suggestion that seems to have a lot of favor among the subreddit.

Another thing to note, you guys play a lot of Fortnite. Of the 15,028 people that answered, I'd estimate you all play in the high tens of thousands of hours a week. (Many of you answered 15+ hours, if all of you just played one that would still be 15k hours a week!).

I'll leave the interpretation of everything else up to you guys. But as an added bonus, I've generated

Raw Data

As promised, everyone now has full access to the survey data. You can view the spreadsheet here. If you find anything interesting feel free to make note of it in the comments below (I tried to go through all 15,028 responses but it is quite a daunting task).

You can view some more fancy stats here.

Future Surveys

I think we'll definitely be doing future surveys on what we consider to be topics of the week, as well as monthly "check ups" on where people believe the game is at. As a result, if you think there are any pressing questions that deserve data, shoot me a message.

Future surveys will be more planned out and last a week (until the next survey is posted). Upon closing, all data and a summary will be released.

Recruitment Picks

Programmer(s)

Please welcome your new code slaves /u/DaJuukes and /u/bcb67. They will be assisting my takeover of the world. We will begin by making a bot that doesn't break, doesn't have ugly code, and does my taxes. Perhaps also a Discord bot for everyone as well (mainly going be for us mods though).

Here's a little something about each of them:

/u/DaJuukes Hi! I'm a Node.js specialist and work in Discord and Reddit bots, along with Ethereum stuff. You can find more info about me here: http://dajuukes.codes

/u/bcb67 Hey Reddit squad! Just wanted to introduce myself, I'm /u/bcb67 and I'm going to be joining the /r/fortnitebr team to hopefully write some cool moderation tools / bots. I'm 21 years old and am a Senior at NC State University in Raleigh NC. I actually work as a part time Information Security Analyst @ Epic.

CSS/Designer(s)

Please welcome your new fashion designers /u/scorpionmechanic , /u/Ullaakut, and /u/Mastergoat. Two of which I've seen some brief initiative taken to help out, but I look forward to new ideas and new eyesores for everyone to look at! Being serious, I hope to tackle some long wanted features such as night mode, a proper filter, and a fancy sidebar.

Here's a little something about each of them:

/u/Ullaakut I'm a French software engineer working in Luxembourg (just fresh fired one week ago, my whole project team along with a few others have been trashed). I'm 99% backend but I still have some old skills in design and frontend so it should be fine for the job here. I'm 23, I like making video games on the Unreal Engine, playing tennis, and working on open source projects!

/u/Mastergoat Hey I'm MasterGoat (damn I wish I made a new account before this!) I'm a 20 year old FortNiteBR Addict from Darwin, Australia. My days consist of working for the government for 8 hours then another 8 hours of trying to get those Victory Royales! I've been creating my own video games and websites for a few years now and am happy I can finally apply that experience properly to a community that has been a big part of my life the past 6 months. Look forward to help make this site snazzy and pretty for you all!

/u/ScorpionMechanic Ok, my name is u/ScorpionMechanic, I just joined the FortniteBR Mod Team as a CSS Designer. IDK if my age will be a problem, but, I recently turned eighteen. I've been doing Graphic Design for almost ten years, mostly doing personal works or commissions from friends of my parents. I'm the designer of the FortniteBR subreddit. Both the Valentines and the Normal version. Also, help me to git gud. I haven' won in weeks.

[legalseat]

What We Can Learn About Criminal Justice From the Tragically Hip

Along with 4 million other Canadians, I watched the Tragically Hip end their tour with a nationally televised concert on August 20, 2016 from their hometown of Kingston, Ontario.

After learning of the news that the Hip’s poetic songwriter Gord Downie had brain cancer, I spent much of the summer of 2016 listening to the Hip.  Many of the songs touched me deeply but as a criminal law professor two of them particularly stuck out. 38 Years Old deals with an 1972 prison escape from Millhaven Penitentiary and Wheat Kings explores David Milgaard’s wrongful conviction and its aftermath.

Shortly after the Kingston concert, I started writing the article recently published in a special edition of the Manitoba Law Journal. The article allowed me to re-visit issues- mandatory sentences and wrongful convictions- that I had previously written about. More importantly, it allowed me to think about criminal law in a different and more open way. It gave me a chance to borrow the words of Mohawk elder Janice Longboat “to think until I could feel”.

 (To learn more about my analysis, )

38 Years Oldand Mandatory Punishment

38 Years Old is a sombre song about a 1972 prison break from Millhaven. The protagonist is “Mike” who has been in jail since he was 20 years old and had “never kissed a girl”. He killed the man who had raped his sister. He escapes and flees to his home only to be recaptured and returned to Millhaven which was an extremely violent prison opened prematurely to deal with the results of the infamous 1971 Kingston Penitentiary riot.

In the article, I examine why Mike likely would not have a defence and how this reveals the limited ability of criminal law to determine blameworthiness. I also examine how Mike at the time would have been sentenced to death sentence for imprisonment, but have benefited by executive commutation of that mandatory sentence. Today the death sentence would not be available. It has been replaced by a mandatory sentence of life imprisonment for murder.  All murders. Progress of a sort.

The Mike of 38 Years Old is as realistic a hypothetical offender as the one recently used by the Court in Lloyd

to strike down a mandatory sentence for drug trafficking.  But the Charter would probably not benefit Mike. The Supreme Court has already upheld mandatory life imprisonment under the Charter. (Disclosure, I unsuccessfully argued for the Canadian Civil Liberties Association in R v Latimer in favour of justified exemptions from mandatory sentences).

More recently the Truth and Reconciliation Commission has recommended that judges should be able to justify exemptions from all mandatory sentences and all mandatory restrictions on conditional sentences. Listening to 38 Years Old affirmed for me that this is a good idea and that the federal government should adopt escape hatches from all mandatory sentences.

So that is one law professor and frustrated law reformer’s take on 38 Years Old. But the Hip are not making that argument so part of the article tries to understand their message from the perspective of critical legal pluralism including the creation of belief systems that are alternatives  to the law.

The message that come through for me is the importance of family and enduring bad times. When Mike escapes, he flees to his home. The song tells us that the family home has the “same pattern on the table, same clock on the wall. Been one seat empty eighteen years in all.”

Some historical research suggests that one of the 14 real escapees from Millhaven, like Mike, was captured at his parents’ home. The press speculated he may have returned to his Niagara home to cross the border to the US. Perhaps he simply wanted to see his family. The lesson I take from this is that even under a reformed criminal law, punishment remains something that must be endured and resisted by offenders and their families.

True to its rock roots, 38 Years Old allows us even for 4 minutes to imagine ourselves in the shoes of the offender. Bruce Springsteen has done important work in humanizing offenders and so has the Hip.

Wheat Kings

Wheat Kings is one of the Hip’s most popular songs. Like Springsteen’s Born in the USA, however, it can be misinterpreted by casual listeners.

It is vitally important to understand that Wheat Kings was released in 1992, the same year that theSupreme Court refusedto declare David Milgaard innocent while recognizing that his conviction was a miscarriage of justice.

The Court was not convinced on either a balance of probabilities or beyond a reasonable doubt that Milgaard was innocent. The Hip seemed to have a different opinion.

Wheat Kings recognized that wrongful convictions were “nothing new” at a time when the Canadian criminal justice system was still reluctant to admit it made mistakes. Interestingly in light of Gord Downie’s subsequent role in championing Indigenous issues, two of Canada’s better known wrongful convictions in 1992 involved Indigenous accused: Donald Marshall Jr. and Wilson Nepoose.

Wheat Kingsdeals with many still unaddressed issues about wrongful convictions. In its reference to “our Parents Prime Ministers” it evokes current controversies over the role of elected politicians in granting those who claim to be wrongfully convicted new trials and appeals.  In its reference to “no one is interested in something you didn’t do”, it raises the issue of whether courts should make formal declarations of innocence.

Even after he was released from prison, David Milgaard suffered stigma both because of the Supreme Court’s failure to find him innocent and because the Saskatchewan Crown placed him in limbo by using a prosecutorial stay of proceedings. My article details how David Milgaard continued to fight in the courts to have his innocence recognized. He brought two civil actions but to no avail.

Milgaard’s innocence was only officially recognized when in 1997 advances in DNA testing revealed that Larry Fisher and not Milgaard was the real killer of Saskatoon nurse Gail Miller.

Although Wheat Kings can be interpreted as supporting various reforms of the law surrounding wrongful convictions, it, like 38 Years Old, also affirms the importance of resisting the law.

The Hip was prepared in 1992 to declare Milgaard innocent at a time when the Supreme Court was not prepared to do so. , I relate this interpretation of Wheat Kings to work on legal pluralism by a number of scholars including the late Robert Coverand the late Rod Macdonald.  The article suggests that it is a good thing that alternative discourses whether they be in the media, science or art can exonerate people even when the justice system is unwilling to do so.

Conclusion

Although 38 Years Old and Wheat Kings are only 4 minute songs, we can learn much from them. Some of their wisdom relates the need to reform criminal justice in an attempt to minimize the human suffering depicted in the songs.

Some of the wisdom is an important reminder for those of us who live in the law, that the law is not everything. It is sometimes necessary to look outside of the law for strength to resist, mitigate and endure the inevitable errors and harms that any legal system will impose.

This is my 28th year of teaching criminal law, but during the summer and fall of 2016, I learned much about criminal justice by listening  to Gord Downie and the Hip with my mind and with my heart.

What We Can Learn About Criminal Justice From the Tragically Hip published first on http://ift.tt/2vSFQ3P

[legalseat]

What We Can Learn About Criminal Justice From the Tragically Hip

Along with 4 million other Canadians, I watched the Tragically Hip end their tour with a nationally televised concert on August 20, 2016 from their hometown of Kingston, Ontario.

After learning of the news that the Hip’s poetic songwriter Gord Downie had brain cancer, I spent much of the summer of 2016 listening to the Hip.  Many of the songs touched me deeply but as a criminal law professor two of them particularly stuck out. 38 Years Old deals with an 1972 prison escape from Millhaven Penitentiary and Wheat Kings explores David Milgaard’s wrongful conviction and its aftermath.

Shortly after the Kingston concert, I started writing the article recently published in a special edition of the Manitoba Law Journal. The article allowed me to re-visit issues- mandatory sentences and wrongful convictions- that I had previously written about. More importantly, it allowed me to think about criminal law in a different and more open way. It gave me a chance to borrow the words of Mohawk elder Janice Longboat “to think until I could feel”.

 (To learn more about my analysis, )

38 Years Oldand Mandatory Punishment

38 Years Old is a sombre song about a 1972 prison break from Millhaven. The protagonist is “Mike” who has been in jail since he was 20 years old and had “never kissed a girl”. He killed the man who had raped his sister. He escapes and flees to his home only to be recaptured and returned to Millhaven which was an extremely violent prison opened prematurely to deal with the results of the infamous 1971 Kingston Penitentiary riot.

In the article, I examine why Mike likely would not have a defence and how this reveals the limited ability of criminal law to determine blameworthiness. I also examine how Mike at the time would have been sentenced to death sentence for imprisonment, but have benefited by executive commutation of that mandatory sentence. Today the death sentence would not be available. It has been replaced by a mandatory sentence of life imprisonment for murder.  All murders. Progress of a sort.

The Mike of 38 Years Old is as realistic a hypothetical offender as the one recently used by the Court in Lloyd

to strike down a mandatory sentence for drug trafficking.  But the Charter would probably not benefit Mike. The Supreme Court has already upheld mandatory life imprisonment under the Charter. (Disclosure, I unsuccessfully argued for the Canadian Civil Liberties Association in R v Latimer in favour of justified exemptions from mandatory sentences).

More recently the Truth and Reconciliation Commission has recommended that judges should be able to justify exemptions from all mandatory sentences and all mandatory restrictions on conditional sentences. Listening to 38 Years Old affirmed for me that this is a good idea and that the federal government should adopt escape hatches from all mandatory sentences.

So that is one law professor and frustrated law reformer’s take on 38 Years Old. But the Hip are not making that argument so part of the article tries to understand their message from the perspective of critical legal pluralism including the creation of belief systems that are alternatives  to the law.

The message that come through for me is the importance of family and enduring bad times. When Mike escapes, he flees to his home. The song tells us that the family home has the “same pattern on the table, same clock on the wall. Been one seat empty eighteen years in all.”

Some historical research suggests that one of the 14 real escapees from Millhaven, like Mike, was captured at his parents’ home. The press speculated he may have returned to his Niagara home to cross the border to the US. Perhaps he simply wanted to see his family. The lesson I take from this is that even under a reformed criminal law, punishment remains something that must be endured and resisted by offenders and their families.

True to its rock roots, 38 Years Old allows us even for 4 minutes to imagine ourselves in the shoes of the offender. Bruce Springsteen has done important work in humanizing offenders and so has the Hip.

Wheat Kings

Wheat Kings is one of the Hip’s most popular songs. Like Springsteen’s Born in the USA, however, it can be misinterpreted by casual listeners.

It is vitally important to understand that Wheat Kings was released in 1992, the same year that theSupreme Court refusedto declare David Milgaard innocent while recognizing that his conviction was a miscarriage of justice.

The Court was not convinced on either a balance of probabilities or beyond a reasonable doubt that Milgaard was innocent. The Hip seemed to have a different opinion.

Wheat Kings recognized that wrongful convictions were “nothing new” at a time when the Canadian criminal justice system was still reluctant to admit it made mistakes. Interestingly in light of Gord Downie’s subsequent role in championing Indigenous issues, two of Canada’s better known wrongful convictions in 1992 involved Indigenous accused: Donald Marshall Jr. and Wilson Nepoose.

Wheat Kingsdeals with many still unaddressed issues about wrongful convictions. In its reference to “our Parents Prime Ministers” it evokes current controversies over the role of elected politicians in granting those who claim to be wrongfully convicted new trials and appeals.  In its reference to “no one is interested in something you didn’t do”, it raises the issue of whether courts should make formal declarations of innocence.

Even after he was released from prison, David Milgaard suffered stigma both because of the Supreme Court’s failure to find him innocent and because the Saskatchewan Crown placed him in limbo by using a prosecutorial stay of proceedings. My article details how David Milgaard continued to fight in the courts to have his innocence recognized. He brought two civil actions but to no avail.

Milgaard’s innocence was only officially recognized when in 1997 advances in DNA testing revealed that Larry Fisher and not Milgaard was the real killer of Saskatoon nurse Gail Miller.

Although Wheat Kings can be interpreted as supporting various reforms of the law surrounding wrongful convictions, it, like 38 Years Old, also affirms the importance of resisting the law.

The Hip was prepared in 1992 to declare Milgaard innocent at a time when the Supreme Court was not prepared to do so. , I relate this interpretation of Wheat Kings to work on legal pluralism by a number of scholars including the late Robert Coverand the late Rod Macdonald.  The article suggests that it is a good thing that alternative discourses whether they be in the media, science or art can exonerate people even when the justice system is unwilling to do so.

Conclusion

Although 38 Years Old and Wheat Kings are only 4 minute songs, we can learn much from them. Some of their wisdom relates the need to reform criminal justice in an attempt to minimize the human suffering depicted in the songs.

Some of the wisdom is an important reminder for those of us who live in the law, that the law is not everything. It is sometimes necessary to look outside of the law for strength to resist, mitigate and endure the inevitable errors and harms that any legal system will impose.

This is my 28th year of teaching criminal law, but during the summer and fall of 2016, I learned much about criminal justice by listening  to Gord Downie and the Hip with my mind and with my heart.

What We Can Learn About Criminal Justice From the Tragically Hip published first on http://ift.tt/2vSFQ3P