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2n2n · 2 months

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the Sounds of Nightmares...

Well specifically I'm being baited by the stupid Sounds of Nightmares podcast, despite my own insistence that I don't care about aside material or really consider any new content commissioned by Bandai-Namco, and the scattered independent producers of all the various things under the property, necessarily relevant when analyzing the 2 games helmed by Tarsier Studios ...

Which-- I do stand by that ! Here is... an important... precursor, to talking about it.

I think who produces something is very important. It's not the franchise name which makes something enjoyable to you, it is what voice is creating it. If there were JSHK stories written by someone other than Iro-sensei, or if the property was sold off to another artist & writer, would you still be a fan of JSHK? This is how properties like... Warrior Cats (which is a book packaging deal comprised of at least 7 ghost writers), Star Wars, Marvel, work-- those characters, worlds, are not anybody's baby, but are loose concepts which people are paid to contribute to, to generate money as a franchise. It banks not on artistic integrity, but recognition of the property.

For example, I don't love everything that 'Adventure Time' is, or has become. It has passed through different directors, artists, writers, to the point that the original team who made it what I love, is not a part of something as derived as Distant Lands or Fiona & Cake. I also think somebody could like Fiona & Cake and not like OG Adventure Time. Because these are entirely different creations, with different vibes. I'm sure everybody actually has a relationship like this to SOME franchise! Liking early seasons of AT under Pendleton Ward, doesn't incline me towards liking how Adam Muto directs things, once he takes over. If my favorite board artists gradually leave, and are replaced, then I may not relate to the new voices writing episodes. I may not recognize what I loved in the original thing at all, in these new voices. OR sometimes, I CAN like a new voice... that's the roulette spun when things change hands many times.

I mean, people can like or dislike any Star Wars movie, as a mundane example. There is not 1 voice for all trilogies. Or extended universe novels. Or games. Or cartoons. Or Spinoffs. Famously.

By design, art created this way can't represent a singular vision, goal, or worldview... so as a result, these things tend to be haphazard, sloppy, inconsistent, roguely retconning or redefining aspects of canon as different writers or artists want to remake, reinterpret, or ignore set-ups proposed by others, in favor of their own. You'll have characters... often forgotten, brought back, killed multiple times, imbued with significance as quickly as they are written off. Some writer might introduce a concept which the next installment's writer hates. Individual teams or studios for different disciplines (one may commission a wholly different place to make an app game, a podcast, and a comic), may have hardly any communication with one another, and may only be working off of a loose lore bible or rubric. It depends on... the integrity of the franchise ... but almost by uhm, virtue of being a franchise, I'd say most don't... have.... integrity. Because it's often better to just throw more and more darts at a board and test what your audience likes .... artist integrity doesn't necessarily make something popular or speak to what the audience wants, after all. If anything I'd say being an artist with integrity makes one stubborn and liable to act regardless of what the audience wants ...

SO. all that out of the way....

Where all Little Nightmares bonus material is concerned, I take in each on their own terms, and don't necessarily absorb it all into my 'canon'. I mean, I feel LN2 entirely threw away what VLN did, by locking the 2 games in an enclosed loop.

I can't think "this aside comic EXPLAINS this thing from the games" when the games writers don't often acknowledge or engage with what those teams are doing.

BUT BY ENGAGING WITH THINGS ON THEIR OWN TERMS, I CAN ALSO BE LIKE... UGHH??? urhghgg... any random thing COULD beguile me. I mean, nothing is STOPPING ME from LIKING a new installment of Adventure Time, it's just that I DON'T like them, as fate has it.

I think the Sounds of Nightmares, is ,, HILARIOUSLY badly written, like from a quality or believability of voice standpoint. The dialogue is so cartoonishly bad. Feels a bit like a fanfic written by a 14 year old 😭 unfortunately it do be sounding like the exact kind of dialogue the writer of 1&2 has mocked & talked about swerving to avoid in his own work. Like the lack of subtlety... its so funny when LN1&2 are, entirely composed of subtlety.

but you know what I cannot resist, in my godforsaken bones ................................................... the notion of Mono & Six having been siblings in their previous existence. For The Love of God!!!! THIS AVVY BAIT!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAOURUUGHHH ... Mono as a little brother growing older, struggling with the idea of his big sister abandoning him, refusing to believe she ever would willfully do such a thing... falling down an oubliette of moral decay, torturing children & sending them into oblivion in his desperation to reach her. The concept that he may do all of that only to become trapped in a loop where he both doesn't fully recognize her, or himself, but is also continuously abandoned by her endlessly. But also Did Find Her, Did Reunite, Does Have Her. So maybe the kid torture was the right choice.

I LIKE THE IDEA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But it is mildly frustrating to engage with, because of the lack of... absolutes. I feel like the implications are intentionally opaque yet ubsubtle all at the same time (Six's theme softly plays as Otto shouts at recognition of her yellow raincoat.... he is perfecting tuning the frequencies of the nightmares... he comments on the eyes watching him.... a tan trenchcoat is seen in the seamstress area wherein bodies are made to tether children into this other realm... otto mentions the importance of donning many masks...). There is a plausible deniability to it, and I wholly believe creating Red Herrings tastelessly is expected of the property, given the entire bait-and-switch of VLN is you thinking that girl is Six, But No She's An Unrelated Raincoat Girl (why?) (it helps the franchise recognizability by there always being SOME sort of girl in the iconic raincoat.. how could you sell an app game without that visual cache?)

I think the threat of "is this Six? Wouldn't that be interesting...." is frustratingly imperative to maintain audience attention, while the open possibility of saying "naaah lol nvm" is important to 'save' the lore (particularly if the audience doesn't like or rejects an idea ... you can pretend anything was the intention all along retroactively). This is the madness of franchises... *rubs temples*...

so what do I have to say. I do think the writing is not good, but I think the concept is delicious. I would love for Mono to have created a device to communicate with the Nowhere (and it as a semi-reality semi-dreamspace IS original canon...), and I like that suffering is essential to reaching towards it. I would love the creation of this device to be the inception of the Signal Tower, I would like his only window into this world to be the thing that will entrap him, as if the two cannot exist apart. I would like Six as a long-lost older sister who escaped through her dreams, but perhaps anticipated her brother following behind her.

The vibes of Otto, are great. I love a guy muttering "my beloved..." about his sister, and pathetically whining about how she'd never leave him. I like how much "Sisi" sounds like "sissy". I love how he speaks always in possessives about her "my Sisi" while Noone also fsr validates this by saying "your Sisi". Yeah!!!! I like how absorbed his life is in this, like he's had no pleasures or joys outside of his sister, and is always yearning for her.

I would say it suits Mono's description of being "uncommonly single-minded. When he sets himself to a task, he rarely gives up before it's completed." He's a uniquely determined person, to a fault. The Thin Man erodes many in his terrible city, so corrosive is the humm of his Signal Tower. I would like all of the irradiated child remains found in the Pale City to be children he treated with his machine, who were not only lost to their nightmares, but trapped within the Signal's call.

Imagining Six & Mono's lives before winding up in this nightmare... I haven't had anything in mind; I like to engage in the world as it is now, on its own terms. I would imagine neither remember what existed before this, anyway. Suddenly being proposed "Mono was Six's obsessive little brother" is like being electrocuted. UGUGHHH... YEAH??????? FINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! if YOU want to, SAY THAT.... !!!! to ME.... ! it's designed specifically to torment ME.... to test my integrity....

It is also kind of HILARIOUS!!!!! Ahhhhh imagine working tirelessly to reunite with your sister, only to have the demons that be give you the ironic fate of being unable to remember or recognize her in such terms, yet there is a draw, a pull, a sense to need to protect & keep her at all costs. And then what ! It would be amazing to fall in love with her, to find her beautiful. It would be amazing to fuck her brains out like that !!

For the mostpart I don't have... interest at all in Noone's, visions or what have you, it feels a little mind-numbingly episodic, but I could probably enjoy plenty of it fully visualized...? I don't really vibe the podcast medium as a tool for storytelling I am afraid; it feels simultaneously less than a book and also less than a visual medium. Not enough immersive prose or opportunity for shifts in perspectives a book could offer, limited duration, a kind of hokey amount of SFX and the need for a contrived framing narrative (which basically demands a lot of unnatural exposition to convey anything), really dampens it for me. I read it all as transcripts because that's a little more tolerable, but that just leaves me wishing it didn't need to be in a scripted format, and was .... a book .

My favorite concept it did bring forth, which well-aligned with my own impressions, was that seamstress room. I liked the half-made doll stabbed onto the table, and Noone feeling a connection, as if that was her, and all of these awaiting clothes. I enjoy the idea that one's consciousness is sort of split & hobbled when in-between reality & dream, until a vessel is made on this other side, which 'completes' you at last. I like the mythology of that, of needing a new body... exploring the 'doll' aesthetic we've got here.

I also like.... the notion of time not being linear, the Ferryman simultaneously existing for a lot of children. Since I'm only willing to engage Sisi & Otto as Six & Mono... I would love the notion of timelessness, that despite 'searching' for his sister for years, they might come into existence in this world at just the same time; maybe the Ferryman could have promised Six that her brother will come, & the matter of time is relative here as everything warps. They won't be apart, actually. I am FOND of the idea of Six & Mono's clothes coexisting in a trunk... despite Six having disappeared much 'before' his, in our world. Perhaps her body isn't finished being stitched together until Mono appears. That would be what I would like... </3 Maybe sissy only left because it was promised that you would eventually come.............. only the illusion of abandonment. To motivate you </3 come chase meeeeeee otouto

#avvy's LN #ughh i dont feel like proofreading this.... maybe i will edit. later #ITS JUST SO MUCH TO PREFACE AND THEN talk about .

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voistly · 4 months

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WHAT are ur top 5 favorite viddy-o games of all time

listed in no particular order. i am not a seasoned gamer so many of these are focused on how the art/writing/story has impacted my own worker over the mechanics of gameplay. because truth be told i do not understand game design all that well and the art/story is often what draws me in and keeps me around.

also note that i have trouble with picking favourites of all time since my tastes change very frequently. that being said think of these more of 'games that i think about a lot.' very rambly thoughts.

ultrakill

i haven't played many boomer shooters, but the few i have played don't have the same kick as ultrakill. i really love the entire art direction and the conceptualization of hell (for example i love how cerberus is designed after rodin's thinker from the gates of hell rather than the 3 headed dog.) also i have to give it some credit because i think ultrakill gave me much better reaction time & aiming skills for other shooters LOL

2. team fortress 2

not a game i'm particularly good at but i'm not terrible at it. i'm sad that a lot of the new maps seem haphazard and poorly thought out compared to some of the older community maps, but despite all of its jankiness i still have a lot of love for it (even venice... even wutville.) again something i have to give credit for being a huge inspiration on my art style. i think the tf2 comics are some of my more obvious style inspirations & the design of actual game got me thinking heavily about how to conceptualize a character (example being sniper being one of the tallest character to see over sightlines, engineer being the only character short enough to hit a teleporter without crouching, etc)

3. disco elysium

wonderful story. wonderful art. without hyperbole, i think about this game at least 3 times a week since i played it a year and a half ago. i think its also really obvious how disco elysium has impacted my art style (my work has gotten a lot more painterly since i first played it!) & now that i think xyril's city as a point&click/vn style game like disco elysium. but something obvious probably only to me is how its impacted my writing style... i tried to read sacred and terrible air, but i only got a few chapters in. of course i was interested in the story but since it was a fan translation it didn't have the same flow and pairing of phonetic sounds as disco elysium did. i like how the writing sounds when you say it out loud, like 'jamrock shuffle' or 'tequila sunset'

4. undertale & deltarune

honestly the game that got me into worldbuilding and writing in the first place. the role of the player & the world/characters surrounding them is what pushed me into actualizing my ocs into their own stories rather than as vague, dissonant concepts with a fun design.

5. lethal company

i get one recency bias answer. its just a really fun game and i really like playing it with my friends. i wouldn't say it has influenced my art or writing like any of the others have, but i think its gotten me to think about game design & sound design a lot more. especially sound design and how nicely it pairs with the aesthetics. all of the unique sound cues are really helpful in understanding your situation when you can't easily see your situation (low fov, low fidelity graphics, can't crane neck all the way down, etc).

honourable mentions: rimworld, barotrauma, pentiment (i was going to include this alongside disco elysium but i decided against it), portal 1 & 2 (was also going to include this alongside tf2)

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inventors-fair · 1 year

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Limited Experiences, Archetypes, and How a Little Madness will Get You Nowhere or Everywhere

Folks, I don't play Arena and I don't have a MODO account. I've drawn tokens and borrowed dice. My experiences in MTG have been weird to say the least and I've been playing since before I needed to shave regularly. Which I still don't.

But part of Magic's versatility is the ability to go hog wild with the card that you pick as long as you're doing something fun. I draft a lot with my students when we can, and I get to see the kinds of decks that they play as well. Back in Shadows over Innistrad, I was fascinated with a student's Jeskai Aggro build; he's still playing at the LGS whenever he can, with a real job and everything. When we drafted Streets of New Capenna, one student played BW Elspeth and another swung Temur, of all things. You don't have to be normal about anything.

I'm far from normal in my constructed designs, so I'll admit to being caught by the bug; my competitive Pioneer decks are a homebrew Mono-White Weenies deck that still runs Brimaz, and a Mono-Red Skredless Skred Karnfires pile of nonsense that baffles the Spikes right before they beat me (or get Glorybringer'd). And yet, when I draft, normalcy abounds. The big cards are big, and the other cards are... Well, sometimes control works. Sometimes.

I'm going to go through the four most recent standard sets and talk about their archetypes, my experiences, and whether or not weirdness is permitted. Hopefully this will encourage you to go back and find a bit of weirdness yourself. Or not. But whatever you make for this week, it has to capture something that'll make us feel again. Don't let me down—but how can you? You're an Inventor.

Let's start most recently...

MARCH OF THE MACHINE

As many folks have heard me crow about already, I won our LGS's March of the Machine store championship. The deck was greedy, swingy, and the legends really tore the deck apart with their power level. Elesh Norn, Grand Cenobite was and is a very powerful card. The limited archetypes were:

WU Knights

UB Instants/Sorceries/Recursion

BR Sacrifice

RG Battles

GW +1/+1 Counters

WB Incubate/Phyrexians

BG Incubate/Phyrexians

GU DFCs

UR Convoke

RW Backup

An abundance of mana-fixing ensured that the three/four/five-color decks could have fun on their own, and the wedge legends encouraged that as well if you could pick them up. The inclusion of Yarok and Atraxa were rare, but also pushed for a little bit of green-oriented power there.

As you can see, two archetypes (Battles & Backup) pushed for the newest set mechanics. Personally? I never tried them. Backup was best used wherever the aggro happened on its own, and Battles were better in the grindier colors and/or as bombs for other archetypes when necessary.

Grinding out fliers was usually the way to go. I don't have many fond memories of drafting this set, not in the same way I do with other sets. The mechanics were great, and Battles were surprisingly fun, but coming out on top felt less about who was the better player and more who could draw into the uninteractive over-the-top synergy first.

When things got good, things got GREAT. I stared down an amazing five-color Alara pile once that blew me out of the water, and knights had a heck of a time. But sealed... Sealed was amazing. Even the prerelease (which I missed winning by a hair) had amazing moments. The decks could pack all their iconic characteristics into one mashup and it felt like assembly of a monument, less haphazard and more genuinely epic. What does it say that a set feels more cohesive the less control you have over what you pick from it?

At least the Incubate mechanics were awesome all around. It synergized with Phyrexian typal, +1/+1 counters, and the transformation theme. I'd put Incubate as my favorite mechanic and archetype.

WEIRDNESS CONCLUSION: You had to get weird with this format, but even the weirdness didn't feel good because the biggest cards like Ghalta and Chandra performed regardless of their archetype. It was both cluttered and samey at the same time. Weirdness failed to find the good-feeling spot.

Best you could do was the five-color pile, and that relied on bomb support—not that you really had to ask for it.

PHYREXIA: ALL WILL BE ONE

This set was baller. It was fast. It was fun. It was interactive on the battlefield. Combat mattered immensely and topdecks felt radically tense. I had so much fun with this set. The archetypes were:

WU Artifacts Matter

UB Proliferate

BR Oil Sacrifice

RG Oil Aggro

GW Toxic Midrange

WB Mites/Tokens

BG Toxic Aggro

GU Proliferate

UR Noncreatures

RW Equipment

Out of all of these, the only archetype I saw eschewed was GW. My favorite deck I made was a four-color pile with Atraxa (hnnng, yet 2-1 overall) but I saw mono-red go undefeated one night as well. Two proliferate and two toxic archetypes meant there was a fair amount of love to be spread, yeah? But speed mattered a lot. Usually.

There was a night where I had the fastest BG deck possible, and only dropped a game where I missed four land drops in a row. But I won the match because the proliferation mattered when the toxic couldn't connect, and there was no way out. Battles were furious. People say that RB was the best archetype—or was it RG?—but just about everything could be done well. WU wasn't the most popular, and neither was UB, but both of them performed well.

Oil counters being the newest addition as do-nothing-but-synergize felt a little off at first, but when they worked, they worked immensely well, and they suited the environment in a way that I really didn't expect. You wanted to get them, use them, board them, and burn them. And don't get me started on the awesomeness of For Mirrodin! As a piece of noncreature-ish tech, the equipment archetype was more powerful than I had thought possible.

WEIRDNESS CONCLUSION: If you could do it right, you could do it well. 3-5 color decks had odd synergies but had stiff competition. This set didn't feel like it had quite the wiggle room for competitive oddities, but it felt good to perform with them all the same. Cunning mattered more.

Best you could do would probably be a control curve. A lack of sweepers meant true control was next to impossible, but you could eke it out.

THE BROTHER'S WAR

Out of all the disappointments, BRO was one of the most frustrating to contend with. Big stuff on top of big stuff only mattered when you could cheat it out or go fast enough that it hardly made a difference when you killed someone. Forgone conclusions were just that. The archetypes were:

WU Soldiers

UB "Draw Two"

BR Sacrifice

RG Powerstone Aggro

GW Artifact ETB

WB Small Soldiers

BG Self-Mill

GU Big Robots

UR Noncreatures

RW Aggro

Go fast or go home. When games got grindy, everyone went to time, and then everyone who drafted red got to sit around and watch them before winning the event. There were, on occasion, odd decks that managed to eke out victories, but the archetypes felt more or less directionless.

Soldiers had to be committed to so early that, if you didn't draw a bomb P1P1, you were done for. Powerstones felt good and versatile all around, but they were primarily sacrifice fodder and on occasion used in combat for tricks that would get lethal anyway. People would hate out the RB deck for that alone, and then whoever got the red bombs or the ramp would come out on top. Removal felt decent. Blue was a strange fiend where practically none of the archetypes felt supported, but WU worked if you just went for straight midrange. Urza's rare card in particular was stellar.

Drafting a curve was useless unless you built specifically to go against the decks that were going faster than you. The bonus sheet as well was...interesting. Quicksilver Amulet was particularly strong if you could find it. But even Wurmcoil Engine was slow. Sometimes you got to go nuts with Bone Saw. Most often, they slotted in, but didn't change much unless they hit the other singularly good card in your deck.

WEIRDNESS CONCLUSION: I watched my Students play with this one. One of them assembled the Workers in his deck and only lost one match. But RG aggro got there because the kids drafting RB weren't quite ready to go nuts. I was surprised at some of the expertise and not at all surprised at the others. With the LGS, nobody particularly liked the set because of the imbalance.

Best you could do probably WOULD be the Workers deck, unless you had some kind of combo. To get true jank, you'd have to board specifically against the best decks.

DOMINARIA UNITED

This is how you can make weirdness work. You know how in Khans of Tarkir, the lifegain lands made all the difference? But in March of the Machine, they muddled the waters? Well... Anyway, here are the archetypes:

WU Instants/Sorcery Midrange

UB Instant/Sorcery Control

BR Death/Sacrifice Aggro

RG Domain Beats

GW Tokens

WB Aristocrats

BG Graveyard Matters

GU Domain Ramp

UR Instant/Sorcery Aggro

RW Enlist Aggro

Fast and furious? It would seem so, but there was enough countermagic, removal, and interruption in this set to give it a strong back-and-forth. Even lifegain mattered immensely! My favorite deck I made was an incredible Sultai control build, but I got blown out on other nights with other fantastic decks, and in general? We had so much fun trying to be weird. That Sultai deck was splashing for the Domain lands, and that's where the fun happened.

The aggro was often offset by the other colors having big durdly butts and toughness that could match it, plus draw power on the side. Splashing was vital unless your game plan was tuned precisely. Equipment mattered, and every draw got you closer. Searching was fun and made for difficult choices. Domain was always relevant, always.

In every color combination, you could make something relevant, and if things went wrong, that was okay. Off-color kicker still felt great to build a powerful deck around. Removal felt like it had to be used at the right time, and it could turn the tide of battle with effort yet. Sometimes white felt a little weak, until it flew through the air and smacked the crap out of you. And if someone got a solid defenders deck, they were on cloud nine.

The format allowed for decks to slow down the field enough for interaction to happen, and the fast decks got their day in the sun all the time. Balance and options without too many cards and without a push towards bombastic setpieces meant that synergy could prosper. Yes, even with Sheoldred in the set.

WEIRDNESS FACTOR: If you could dream it, you could do it. The set punished spreading yourself too thin without support, but the support that it gave allowed for weird stuff to manifest quite well.

There's no limit to the best you could do: Abzan sacrifice, five-color goodstuff, Legendary typal, Jeskai spellslinging (that happened a fair amount actually), Bant control... It was awesome.

But these were just my experiences and my observations. On Arena, the same draft rules hardly apply. On MODO, the player base is much different. And of course, every LGS has its player base who plays differently.

What were your best limited experiences? What's the set where you felt the most powerful weirdness, and how do you want to bring that to your card this week?

With love, @abelzumi

#mtg #magic the gathering #monday blog #limited

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thefilmsimps · 2 years

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Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla II (dir. Takao Okawara)

-Jere Pilapil- 6.5/10 I held off on logging this one because I had to watch it again. My dumb ass couldn’t quite follow the story. I’m still not sure if it makes much emotional sense, in terms of having a rooting interest. This is a rare Godzilla movie where there isn’t really a bad guy - not even Godzilla himself, as is sometimes the case - but the plot is just so busy. The characters are all varying shades of doing their best. I guess that makes this one of the most morally complicated Godzilla movies, which is certainly something, but I also don’t necessarily mean that as a compliment. Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla is one of my favorites in the series: I’m a big fan of “alien apes try to frame Godzilla with a mechanical Godzilla” as a plot, plus it has serviceable martial arts, if I’m remembering correctly. This one is a far more emotionally grounded adventure, though it still partakes in its share of weirdness. This time around, some scientists find what they think is a pteranodon egg and take it (so many eggs in this series!). Instead of an irradiated ancient dinosaur, they find a Godzillasaur, or, a baby Godzilla, who they name Baby. There’s a psychic link between Baby, Godzilla and Rodan, though, which sends the adult kaiju off to wreak havoc on Japan. Japan’s ready in this one, though, having created Mechagodzilla and a fighter plane called Garuda, which frankly gets bitched out in favor of the hot new thing but actually comes in handy later. So it becomes a very “We don’t negotiate with terrorists” situation where the humans want to keep Baby and Baby keeps calling for Godzilla despite looking at one of the scientists as a parental figure. I don’t think there’s anyone to root for here, as Godzilla doesn’t even really want Baby: he’s just drawn in the kid’s general direction. That kind of deflates the plot a bit, when there is clearly a very simple solution to all of this. Thankfully, the ride is fun while it lasts. We get a truncated love(?) story between two humans, one of whom is obsessed with dinosaurs and invents his own Da Vinci-like flying decide. There’s a school of psychics for no particularly good reason. The costuming here is the real standout: Godzilla looks rad, and Baby is by far the best iteration of “Baby Godzilla” to date. He looks like a cute, human adult-sized version of Godzilla, which beats the hell out of the creepy old Minilla design. The monster fights are cool, but again, the plot lets them down. Still, the shot of Godzilla wrapping his hands around Rodan’s neck is pretty visceral, and there are some great ideas here (including Mechagodzilla being able to shoot Godzilla’s radiation blasts back at him). It’s all just very haphazard and desperately in need of a monster everyone can root against. When I watched this again, I asked myself if it’s possible to like everyone in a movie too much, and unfortunately the answer is “yes”.

#movie review #6.5/10 #Godzilla #kaiju #kaiju movies #sci-fi

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nimbus2224 · 2 years

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Bad Batch Season 2 Reaction *Spoilers*

Warning: This is the spoiler version of my reaction to the Bad Batch Season 2 trailer so if you have not watched it yet, I highly recommend you do so. I’ll be breaking down a really big (or at least big to me) reveal that occurred which I think you’ll probably want to see for yourself to get the full shock. :)

The non-super-spoiler/TLDR version is that I’m cautiously optimistic, somewhat terrified, and can’t spend time thinking about my favorite Star Wars character basically every day since I’ve watched this trailer. X_X I’m hopeful but also worried about what this story might be because of a particular, unexpected reveal.

Just to get this out of the way, I like the cinematography, the lighting, the animations, the character models...Just like in Clone Wars, the animation style really has come into its own over the years and this alone got me excited for this upcoming season. :) I actually like the new armor designs and coloration. It seems a bit haphazard but I suspect it may parallel a shift in perspectives for Bad Batch. I also like that Omega is getting older and seems a bit more capable in the trailer. I hope this means that she’ll be less likely to be constantly taken hostage like she was in the previous season. I would like to see her have more realistic responsibilities and behaviors not only as a member of the Bad Batch, but as a literal child who now has been exposed to her fair share of troubles.

I’m not saying she should be immediately traumatized or that the show should center around her grappling with mental issues that sprung up. Instead, I hope this season will explore her role not only in Bad Batch and as a clone, but function a little better at giving us an idea what being at war and hunted is like through her. How does she feel knowing that her family is quickly aging and will one day not be able to care for her? Will she ever become unwilling to participate in a mission when she finally realizes the danger? How will she help in her own way where it doesn’t feel like her life is being placed in direct danger? What are her feelings about what happened during the war before Order 66? How does she feel about regular clones and will she also accept them as her family?

____________

*Spoiler version*

Ok, so now that we’ve got the spoiler warning out of the way! Onto the reaction!

Like I said earlier, I’m both excited and terrified about what this next season might hold all because Commander Cody is featured in the trailer. I recognized him in the part of the video where he and Crosshair were walking around the hallway and then, yikes!, point their gun at what appears to be Omega and another young person. XC But it wasn’t until I saw him without the helmet that I was forced to say, “Yep, that was definitely Cody.” and that made me both really happy/excited and really sad.

Excited because this is literally my favorite Star Wars character (and one of my favorite characters EVER, if not top favorite) --- a character that I spent so many years enjoying drawing and writing about what I thought he was up to off screen in Revenge of the Sith, the EU books, and then Clone Wars. This is a character that I feel, in some way, positively guided me through my teen years and helped me heal from negative experiences.

Gut punch:

Seeing him again, and immediately thinking, “He’s going to be the bad guy, isn’t he. He’s going to get killed.” was a gut punch. :( This might sound stupid but even though I was bitter about Cody not getting many stories or screen time in Clone Wars, I held onto the fact that this meant that his character wasn’t in danger of being used as a complete opposing foil to Rex --- which is where I think a lot of viewers just organically gravitated anyways. Which is fine, there’s nothing wrong if you see Cody as Rex’s opposite/foil.

I’ve always viewed Cody as the precursor and forerunner to basically all clones (save for Alpha, who I believe may be the first named clone to ever exist in Star Wars --- which is extremely fitting considering at the end of Alpha’s introduction he specifically states going back to Kamino to teach other officers with the Jedi’s blessing to allow names instead of numbers). For me, Cody lays the groundwork for the type of struggles clones endure (finding identity, being their own type of leaders outside of the kind of ‘divine mandate’-ish way Force users look at it, not being super powered but existing in a super powered universe and surviving...) I much prefer the idea that Rex’s character arc in Clone Wars had him starting at much of the same place as Ahsoka (which is why he really rubbed me the wrong way) and then grow through his experience with being in bad/morally grey situations, learning humility and the value of being a servant leader, into someone who actually ended up more like Cody in the end (ironically). (I should make a blog post about those thoughts as well.)

Seeing him alongside Crosshair was alarming, unless they’ve somehow magically joined the rest of Bad Batch, which I doubt since they point their guns at what I think was Omega and someone else. :( So it feels like they’re setting him up to be a villain of some kind --- either crazy and brainwashed due to the inhibitor chip or, equally as bad, somehow completely drained of all humanity, intelligence, and empathy and now just a pawn of the Empire like Crosshair. And then he’s brandishing a knife defensively (RIP whoever he’s fighting, lol) and that’s never a good sign.

Yes, the creators own his story and can do whatever they like with it but I was really hoping that he could just “ride off into the sunset” and be forgotten by Disney. :L I didn’t want to see him and Rex fight because there’s only one way that would turn out: Rex, protected by eternal plot armor, would be the victor. I didn’t want him to reprise his role as the sacrificial clone whose only purpose was to die to preserve the same hero(es) (like Climber, Hardcase, Echo kinda, Waxer, Fives, etc.). I didn’t want to see him fight any heroes for that matter because that would mean that the Cody we see in the books and Clone Wars has crossed over a moral line that I believe defines who he is: Cody intrinsically values life (his orange-painted armor would signify as such according to Mandalorian color-meanings) and aware of right vs. wrong. For me, it would signify a failure for Cody to apply the same logic and empathy he displays throughout Clone Wars and the EU, and thus his character would essentially be dead.

Nimbus goes full-clown for a hot minute >_< :

This might be going ‘full clown’ here but I always (even before the inhibitor chips --- a concept I still dislike) saw Cody’s strange execution of Order 66 as him choosing the thousands of lives under his command over Kenobi’s. When I watch RoTS, I never saw him intending to kill Kenobi but rather to do a ‘fake out’ where really only he and the gunner would be responsible for the Jedi actually escaping --- Obi-Wan sadly believing that Cody had intentionally attacked. This would make sense to me as a carry through of the kind of person Cody is --- think the “I’ll do it myself’ scene from Cherynobl --- so that instead of an entire legion paying for a failure to kill Kenobi or protect against Kenobi’s attack, only he would be responsible. This is why I think, realistically, at the end of RoTS Cody would be almost immediately executed because his failure to make sure Kenobi was dead resulted in catastrophic damage to Vader, which Sidious was not pleased with at all.

Remember, Cody is a brilliant strategist who knows the rules, knows when to make the exception to those rules (i.e. not killing Slick on sight or shooting Kenobi himself), and is able to come up with a new plan on the spot. If he could tread the knife edge of this problem, then why wouldn’t he be able to think his way out of the Empire --- because he would immediately see that it’s values do not align with the people-centered values he upheld throughout the Clone Wars. A complete 180 from saying “Cities are just buildings, it’s the people who make them homes.”, reprimanding Boil for using derogative terms for Twi’leks, and clearly having a history with 99 and Bad Batch in season 2 would be so jarring/unfortunate. Ok, enough of this headcanon before this post turns into a full-on book. x_x

The dilemma and danger of being a side character:

I guess, where I’m going with this, is that I’m tired of Cody being tied to Rex and to Order 66 as those two things are the only things that define his character forever. It bothers me that, while doing so much good for the clones, Clone Wars ended up showing that it’s only the ‘special’, hand-picked clones like Wolffe, Bad Batch, and Rex who can be redeemed/saved or do anything meaningful --- who exist as individuals outside of which Jedi they were assigned and have backstories longer than a single paragraph (Gree, Cody, Bly, and so many other clones had such rich histories in the EU that are basically erased now).

Every time someone says Cody is “by the book” like it’s a condemnation (gonna write my own post about this because it deserves its own separate rant, lol) or that he wasn’t individualistic...it’s basically like saying all other clones not directly featured in Clone Wars or from the 501st were just meat-droids that mindlessly followed orders. As we see in Bad Batch, there’s so many reasons why each clone made the choices they did. I thought the Umbara arc did a great job reiterating the plethora of reasons clones have to follow orders, change their minds, and basically be believable characters in complex, morally grey situations.

It’s because of this characteristic that I’m not hopeful for how Cody will be portrayed in this new season of Bad Batch. Just reading some of the comments where people hoped that he would lose to Rex (and literally die) or stay with the Empire made me feel fearful for how this is going to play out. I don’t think the showrunners will forgo the popular “death battle” in exchange for a more thoughtful portrayal of a good person coming to terms with or explaining what happened during Order 66 and trying to escape. Again, this show and Clone Wars really does a number on the more grey or nuanced stories in favor of a pure black and white plotline. And that’s too bad.

Predictions/Hopes:

I would love to see Cody subtly trying to get his brothers out of the Empire or make a difference there, before escaping. Maybe my theory of the Empire killing off clones to quell possible rebellion, especially clones like Cody who are known to have failed to kill their Generals during the Jedi Purge, causes Cody to gather clones to escape. Maybe he learns about the Dark Trooper project. *shudder*

I would love to see him and Rex work together, now no longer under any ranks or being commanded by Jedi but instead by themselves. They can talk for as long as they like now, talk about their pasts (would love to hear stories about Cody and Alpha training Rex), mourn those that passed with Cody. Cody divulging that it’s possible Obi-Wan survived. I would love to know that he was one of the clones that was able to go on to live a civilian life, passing on what he had learned throughout his life to others.

I would love to have Omega and Cody interact positively in some way, maybe he tells her a story or teaches her something useful (like hand to hand combat or a trick to strategizing/anticipating enemy movements). It would be a terrible waste, I think, to have the literal first named clone in Star Wars (second if you’re counting Alpha from the EU) --- someone who literally helped lead the way for other clones, like Rex and Gree, to be allowed to show their individuality --- not to have some moment with Omega related to that aspect of his character. I would love for Cody to, for once, be able get a chance to tell his story and do more than just be support for Rex or whatever Jedi of the week was there (sorry, getting bitter about this all over again X’C).

And I’m not asking for the show to be about him, because that won’t happen. I just want him to be treated well instead of being morphed into a flat plotpoint for another character to bounce off of instead of dance with. Even if that other character is Crosshair or Gregor (maybe he can help sway Crosshair). Especially in a show about clone troopers, it could show how each clone important and a dying culture in the Star Wars universe with valuable knowledge, past experiences, and individuality that’s not categorical by which side of the Force they’re on. Regarding the desire of many fans for Cody to oppose Rex and the others, I’d argue that it’s actually less cliche for an intelligent, thoughtful character to seek to make amends and repair the damage he unknowingly caused due to the inhibitor chip.

It’s not cliche for a character who has a track record of valuing life, selflessness, wanting to raise his brothers out of ‘facelessness’ to live as people instead of meat droids, and knowing evil when he sees it, to buck the Empire and what it made him become. It’s not cliche to show the value of different types of people rebelling in different types of ways. One doesn’t have to be sassy, aggressively confident, or so powerful the plot orbits them to be a good person or rebel against oppression in a unique and thoughtful way. I just want a good story, even if it’s bittersweet (which is basically a given), which a plot and motivations that make sense.

Whatever happens, all I can say is that I will have to bring a box of tissues with me because there is no way I’m making it through any episode of this show without crying. TuT

Thanks for making it to the end! :) Hopefully I didn’t annoy anyone with my rant. Sometimes, I feel like I don’t speak up for my favorite characters enough and just gush out with all my thoughts. I don’t expect it to change anyone’s opinion, least of all a showrunners, but just wanted to share my ideas about this lovely character. What are your thoughts? Are you excited for the next season? Do you think Cody deserves a good ending or should he continue at the same level he’s at? What do you think a conversation between Cody, Hunter, Omega, or Rex would go like?

Lastly, whatever you’re going through right now, directly or indirectly, I hope you’re doing well and that there’s a brighter tomorrow for you. <3

#bad batch season 2 #commander cody #clone trooper #captain rex #omega #nimbus2224 reacts #fan theory #headcanon #star wars #clone wars #star wars empire

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babyspiderling · 4 years

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Under the Lights Daveed Diggs x reader

Before I even paste this into Tumblr, I want you all to know that this took me two days of constant writing, and FOUR pages on google docs. I know that the second I hit paste, it’s going to be like one page. Anyways, here’s Daveed x reader.

2010

“Hey, Y/N, I brought you muffins!” A woman with a mouth full of pins, her hair up in a messy bun, measuring tape sloppily tied around her neck, and a pincushion on her wrist, exited a space separated from the rest of the apartment by a thin curtain. Seeing her best friend and roommate enter with goodies, a bright grin fluttered onto her face. “Wanna see what I did while you were gone?” He nodded and followed her to her half of the work room. On a mannequin, a beautiful dress was fleshed out much more than it had been when Lin had left this morning. It had been nothing more than a sketch on paper for the Newsies show. As a major in history with a minor in design, Y/N was accepted by Disney to create the costumes. It didn’t hurt that The Lin Manuel Miranda of In the Heights fame was on her list of references. She had decided to start with Medda’s dress first. Medda was a personal favorite of hers and was excited to do her own spin on it. A deep purple sash had been half pinned under the bodice and sadly hung from its haphazard placement. “The sash would look better if you hadn’t distracted me with food dork.” He smiled and pressed the folded paper bag into her hand. “Alright. I’m going to finish this for Alan. It’s a miracle I have this job. I’m not screwing it up. I also meant to tell you that one of my guys are going to be here tomorrow for a measure and design session. Sweet kid. Amazing dancer.” Lin grinned teasingly as he set his laptop down on his desk. “Am I getting replaced? Is he going to be your new roommate and best friend?” Y/N stuck out her tongue at her best friend and continued her work. The sounds of humming and a machine whirring mixed in with the excited clacking of keys to make a strangely beautiful symphony.

2013

“Y/N! I need your help!” In the tiny apartment in the upper east side, an over-caffeinated Wesleyan Alumni burst through the front door, a paper bag of bagels clutched tightly. At the yells, another Alumni ran from her section of the apartment. “Lin! What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He thrusts the bag into her searching hands, and lets out another shriek. “Y/N! I’m fine! They want to put The Hamilton Mixtape through a workshop! And if we get this right, they’ll move us to a real show!” Shoving his shoulders, she muffled her screams behind pinched lips. “Lin, you can not go scaring me like that! I’m going to get gray hairs before we even get to the off Broadway! What do you need my help with?” He pulled her onto the ratty couch they had in the little space. “I need a costumer. You’re the best in the business. Not to mention I’ll be with you all the time, so there’s no chance of miscommunications!” Standing from her forced seat, she cradled Lin’s head in her hands. She saw the excitement glimmer in his eyes and softened. “Lin, of course I’ll help you, I am a history major after all. Who else could make it historically accurate while still being functional? Thank you for even considering me, and for the bagels.” She pressed a kiss to the crown of his head. Giving a crooked smile, she pointed a finger in his face. “If you ever scare me like that, I swear I will never cook or bake for you again.” He smiled sheepishly and shrugged in apology. “Sorry, but hey, you’re my costumer now!” She smiled and bumped her hip with his. She dug through her pads of paper and snatched her laptop off the charger. “Alright. Give me your tracks and I’ll get started.”

July 27th, 2013

“Alright, I’m here. Sorry I’m late, I got halfway down the block before I figured out I left my notes on the desk. Who do we have here?” Three men held my attention, understandable since they were the main cast. I recognized Brian D’arcy James from other productions, there was another man with big hair and bright eyes, and finally my eyes fell on Christopher. I smiled at him and gave him a quick hug. “Oh my God! What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you in so long! How’ve you been.” He chuckled and pulled me in again. “I’m good. I was missing our Vanessa for a while, but you’re working with us now so I won’t have to miss you anymore! Lin told me about the project and I couldn’t turn it down.” He turned me to the stranger at the clearing of a throat. “Oh, this is Daveed. He’s playing Thomas Jefferson and Lafayette. He raps.” I looked at him up and down, remembering the songs Lin had written for him. I cocked my head, and he looked at me with nervous eyes. “This will work. This is going to work great actually.” I saw his shoulders relax and sag with relief as I walked back to the table set up for the behind the scenes people. I gripped my pen in my hand, ready to jot down every little thought that passed through my mind for the time of the workshop.

After hours and hours of rehearsals and run throughs, I’d filled up a notebook and a half for costumes for the characters. This time around Lin wanted his cast flexible. Those whose characters were not in the second act were recast as another role, so I had to figure out how to do quick changes not only for the nine main cast members, but for the entire ensemble. As Lin and I packed up our things to head home, the man with the beautiful eyes stopped me. “Hey, Vanessa, right?” I heard Lin and Christopher snicker somewhere behind me and I shot them a look. “Actually, it’s Y/N.” His eyes widened in embarrassment and his hand lifted to rub the back of his neck. “Sorry, I just thought it was Vanessa since that’s what Christopher called you.” I shook my head and smiled. “Oh, no. That’s just a little joke between us. I was the demo Vanessa when Lin was trying to sell In the Heights. I’m the reason why Vanessa never speaks Spanish. I took French all through high school and college.” He nodded and rocked back and forth on his heels. “I’ve got some questions about costumes and everything you do. Could I have your number to keep in contact?” I nodded and pulled out my phone, switching it with his and I plugged in my contact information. “Alright. I’m headed home, but I’ll make a schedule for measuring and design sessions. I’ll see you tomorrow?” He nodded enthusiastically, making his hair bob with his movements. I waved goodnight and followed Lin out of the building.

“So, Daveed.” I looked up from my buzzing phone to Lin out of the corner of my eye, giving him an eyebrow. “What about Daveed?” He shrugged and wore a small smile. “You texting him?” I put my phone down to look at him headlong. “And if I am?” Once again he shrugged and got up to grab a snack. “Nothing, just remember your worth.” I shake my head good naturally. “Alright Dad. Now, I’ve got to sketch out what my brain was screaming during the workshop. And how to create every outfit as a quick change. Thanks loser.”

July 15th, 2015

“Alright everyone! We’ve practiced these changes for weeks! Remember your number, remember your cue. You all have been a wonder to work with and to create for. I love you all and break a leg!” Everyone is dressed in white for the opening number, and I am proud of my work. “Oh, and Daveed;” Daveed looks up at me, a strange look in his eyes. “Yes, Y/N?” I looked him in the eyes, stoic and serious. “If you rip your pants during Guns and Ships again, you will repay me by organizing the scrap bin.” He swallowed visibly and nodded his head. I smiled once again and put my hand out for a group theatre circle. “Break a leg!” Everyone scurried to their cue spot in their costumes and Lin hugged me from behind. “Thank you for doing this for me. I never would be able to have costumes this good if it weren’t for you.” I turned in his arms and smiled. “I’m glad I did too Lin. Now go, they’re calling your name.” I listened from my side of the stage, getting everything in order for the main cast. I pulled Daveeds coat off quickly and held out his blue one for him to slide on. “Hey, Y/N, maybe after the show we can-“ “Diggs! Get to your cue!” I smiled and nudged him. “Go. Talk to me after the show.” He gave a quick kiss to my cheek and went to do his thing on stage. As I pinned the rose to Renée’s dress, her sweet voice teased at me. “You do know that he loves you too, right?” I know what she’s talking about, but I pretend to play dumb. “Who loves me? Nevermind, neither of us have the time for this. Go kick ass out there.” She scrunched her eyebrows at me and pointed her finger to say “This isn’t over.”

The first act went by in a flash, costume changes and character changes took up all of my time. After I had hung up every dress, every coat, every pair of trousers and corset, Daveed had changed and packed up all of his things. I had just finished mending the lace cuff on his magenta sleeve when he had walked in. He wore a sleeveless Oakland jersey with a matching hat pressed onto his freed hair. “Oh! Daveed! Perfect timing! I was just finishing up here. What was it that you were wanting to tell me?” At my question, it was like a switch had been flipped in him. He went from the cool and collected suave man who the fans fantasized over to a shy and awkward man who had run out of words. Self-doubt and insecurity filled my inner dialogue as I watched him shut down and clam up. I was filled with the fear and anxiety that he had come to ask me to stop staring, to stop caring. I let the silence carry on for a while longer until Anthony called for us to leave. “I, I should probably go, then. You were amazing tonight, not a single trip or stutter. I am so proud of you.” I swallowed down the tears making their way up my throat and gave him a watery smile. I grabbed my bag, and started to make a hurried exit until my wrist was caught by a large and calloused hand. “Wait, no. Y/N, I wanted to know if you wanted to grab something to eat, go do something when we don’t have a show. You know, like maybe a date? Unless you don’t want to, then it’ll just be us as friends. I’d actually really appreciate it if you just forgot this whole ordeal and-” I smiled and blushed at his sweet ramblings. I stepped up onto my workbench and gripped his face in my hands. Taking a deep breath I leaned in and connected our lips, praying to every spiritual being in the heavens that they would allow him to kiss me back. I guess praying did me good because after getting over the shock of being interrupted, he kissed me back with the same fervour. Once more, we are called to leave the theater and we break apart, panting lightly with swollen lips and pink cheeks. He helped me down from my step and I lifted myself onto my toes to give a peck to his cheek. “Alright big guy, let’s go home. Lin’s either knowing of what we were doing, or he’s pacing in our living room, police on speed dial. And I would love to go on a date with you.”

#daveed diggs #daveed x reader #daveed diggs x reader #hamilton #hamilton x reader #lin manuel x reader #lin manuel miranda #lin manuel miranda x reader #hamilcast #hamilcast x reader #theatre #theatre x reader

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smokeybrandreviews · 3 years

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Singularity

The first season of Godzilla Singular Point has ended and, i have to say, i was pleasantly surprised. This show was everything i wanted those that trilogy of “anime” movies to be and so much more. Admittedly, I'm a Goji shill. I’ve been a fan since i was a wee sprout and it helped to shape my childhood, along with Transformers and Spider-Man. Going into Singular Point, i was a little apprehensive because of those sh*tty films but, more than that, i couldn’t see how one could adapt Goji to the long format of television. This how turned out to be thirteen episodes long. How do you develop plot enough for that when the whole reason for your show to even exist, is basically to smash giant monsters against ash other? The answer is not do that.

Singular Point is very interesting because there is a rather heady plot the drives it’s narrative, not some haphazard set-up for the Big G to fight some random monster or whatever. The Big G and the other Kaiju are a consequence of this plot, not the driving force, and i think that was the right choice because it’s actually a very intriguing set of events if you decided to engage. And let me say, you definitely have to engage. This is not light fair. Singular Point has more in common with Neon Genesis Evangelion or Serial Experiments Lain, than it does with it’s Tokusatsu roots. There s a great deal of existential pontification and heavy emphasis on time/space theory. I mean, the show is called Singular Point, of course you’re going to jump into some of the more timey-wimey aspects of science. For a cat like me who absolutely adores that sh*t, I’m all for it.

So where does Goji and the rest of the monsters fit into this? Rather snugly actually. A major point of this narratives tags them as existences that are outside of our basis for reality. They’re basically the same as the Angels in EVA and i kind of dig that. This gives the creators just enough wiggle room to do some amazing sh*t with the Kaiju designs and, let me say, these are some of the best in the entire franchise. Godzilla Ultima, itself, is easily the crown jewel of this show. It’s so f*cking menacing and aggressive, while somehow calling back to it’s Fifties origin. I love this Goji. It’s my favorite but that same attention and reverence was given to the other Kaiju that appeared. Be it modern re-imaginings like with Jet Jaguar, Rodan, Manda, and Anguirus or the way other Kaiju were amalgamated into new forms, like the Kumonga/Hedora/Megalon things, i was really impressed. Hell, even the new addition, Salunga, who is very obviously a combination of Baragon and Gabara, felt organic to the world. And, with that post credit stinger at the end of episode Thirteen, i can’t wait until the next season. My dude, Mecha G, is looking to make an appearance and i can’t wait!

Godzilla Singular Point was an amazing watch. It really was. AS a fan, there was enough meat here to bring you to the table. Aside from the fantastic animation, incredible Kaiju designs, and rampant fan service throughout, the actual plot is incredible compelling. It grabs you and grips tight until the very end. While i did love what we got of all the monsters, it was all the theory and imaginative physics that kept bringing me back. I adore the potential this universe has. I adored the actual characters in it, too, which is usually hard sell in a Goji flick. The human aspect of this show is some of the best in the entire franchise. It’s definitely not Shin Godzilla levels of intriguing but it comes close. This show is amazing and deserves all of the recognition and eyes on it as possible. As a fan, i had a great time. As a ct who loves great narratives, i can say it definitely delivers Is it for everyone? Probably not, but if you like anime similar to EVA, Guilty Crown, or Steins;Gate, you’ll like this. Actually, that Steins;Gate comparisons is pretty apt. It’s like that but with Kaiju.

#Godzilla Singular Point #Godzilla S.P.#Godzilla #Godzilla Ultima #Gojira #Goji #Big G

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mickeymouse-moshpit · 4 years

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For Auld Lang Syne, My Dear

A/N: This is my first time writing outside of the Star Wars universe and I’m both excited and terrified! Thank you @zeldasayer for letting me work with Chef!Tovar and write a little something. I really want to do more with him in the future, and want to flesh out this relationship I'm writing about, but writing about him and pastry chef!reader (AFAB) was something I really wanted to do for NYE. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! Side note I wrote this while drinking champagne and listening to fun music so there were regular dance breaks; if the editing is a little haphazard I apologize and will fix it in the morning.

p.s. there is a borderline cringe use of the term ‘yes, chef’ and I'm so sorry but it, it just... I don’t know it worked sort of and refused to leave no matter how much I tried to edit the line.

Summary: Chef!Pero Tovar and pastry chef!reader spend New Year’s Eve together. It does get spicy.

Rating: E

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: smut, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (reader has a Nexplanon), cockwarming

“Good morning, Chef.” You felt warm arms slide around your waist and morning stubble rest on your shoulder.

“Good morning, Chef.” You turned your head to give him a peck on the cheek. “I’m almost done here and then you can have the kitchen again.” You liberated the last gold chocolate sphere from its mold.

“No, hermosa, I don’t need your kitchen.” The Spaniard untangled himself from you as you went for the cake that was coming back to room temperature on the island. You ran the white fondant through the roller one more time before covering the small tier.

“Do you want to help me decorate?”

“No, cariño, you know what happened last time.”

You stifled a laugh at the memory of him looking dejected and covered in frosting that had managed to explode out of the piping bag. You weren’t sure you wanted a repeat in your almost clean kitchen. He was a master at his craft, but he did not quite have the delicate touch needed for the intricate designs and perfectly fragile pastry you were known for. You started arranging the gold and silver spheres of different sizes, gluing them on with a small smear of simple syrup and doing your best to mimic the way champagne bubbles would scatter. Pero watched you with his half-smile for a moment in silence. This was his favorite thing- seeing his other half at work in her element.

“Why are you baking for someone else again? Aren’t tonight and tomorrow supposed to be about setting the tone for your own rest of the year? I would like to see you doing that, not…this.” He gestured with his hand at all the things you had made, none of which were going to be consumed by the two of you tonight.

“I have to make peace, you know that. This is how I do it. We can’t spend tomorrow with them like they want so badly but at least I can offer an olive branch.” He wrapped his arms around your back again and rested his chin on your head.

“I know, hermosa. I know. But please tell me you’re at least going to make something for us for tonight.”

“Hmm, I was thinking a baked brie? And maybe some of this.” You unwrapped yourself and went over to the cart you kept in the kitchen, uncovering some of the things you had already made, bread and champagne cupcakes.

“Yes, chef.” He nodded at you and sat down on the counter to watch you finish the cake.

***

You weaved yours fingers with his as you walked up the steps to your townhome. He had been stoic, eyes hard as he stood just behind you while you offered the cake and pastries to them. You were all wearing masks, staying a good distance away from each other. He didn’t like what you were doing, didn’t want you anywhere near these people that had caused you so much pain. But he went. He respected you, wanted you to be happy, but was still not sure why you insisted on trying to make peace.

“Thank you, Tovar.” You squeezed his hand once, twice. “Want some help with the tapas for tonight?”

“No, mi amor. I want you to go rest now. I’ll have everything ready; you just go now.”

You nodded and hung up your coat. You made your way toward the bedroom, knowing he meant for you to bathe and put on something more comfortable than the crisp shirt and dress pants you wore. You pushed open the door and started getting out of your clothes, distracted by thoughts of Tovar and how you could have sworn he growled when your parents had taken your offering, voiced their thanks, and gone back inside. You dropped the clothes in the hamper and kept walking, clicking the light on in your bathroom, the sight that met you made your breath hitch. Sitting on the tub was your tray, laid with some of your favorite snacks and the book you had been working through for the last week. It wasn’t a lot, but you knew Tovar had been thinking of you when he did it.

You ran the water, adding some Epsom salts and letting them dissolve before climbing in. You let the water cover you up to your nipples, keeping warm while you chewed on one of the snacks and read another chapter in the book. You let yourself be absorbed, let yourself float on the words and be whisked away to another universe. You sat and read and snacked until the water chilled; when a chill ran up your spine you knew it was time to climb out and get dressed again. You pulled the plug on the drain and started to dry off while you wandered into the closet, trying to decide what to wear. You thumbed through a drawer, finally settling on something you thought Tovar might like. You slipped on your robe and went out into the living area.

You walked to the couch, but instead of stopping, went into the kitchen so you could watch him at work. He was chopping something while the scent of frying garlic and peppers floated to your nose in spite of the industrial downdraft. You could see the pan of rice waiting for plating and your mouth watered. You watched him in awe, the way he handled the knife bordering on lethal. You didn’t dare interrupt his flow. He would never yell at you, but he was in his element, his zone. That was a place that was sacred.

Instead, since you had an idea of what you were eating, you quietly grabbed some silverware and took them to the table, setting places and going to wait in the living room. He would call you when dinner was ready.

***

“God, baby I never want to cook again.” You never quite understood how he managed to make the flavors sing like this. He would say the same thing about your pastries, but you didn’t quite believe him.

“You don’t have to. I would cook for you every single day if I could.”

“Could I interest you in some dessert?” You were halfway out of your chair when he tugged at you, changing your momentum so you ended up in his lap instead.

“I can think of something far sweeter.” His eyes got impossibly darker as you maintained your eye contact. You thought you would catch on fire if you didn’t get closer to him. And closer you got.

You joined your lips together, wrapping your arms around his neck. You could taste the wine he had just drank lingering on his tongue. The notes popped as you squirmed in his lap, trying to find a way to get impossibly closer. He guided you up and backed you all the way through the house to your bedroom. He pushed you down onto the edge of the bed and untied your robe.

“If I had known this is what you were hiding, that this was all you were wearing, we wouldn’t have made it through dinner.” He ran a finger down the delicate gold chain running between your breasts and looping around your back. He left the robe on your shoulders as he slipped his shirt off. A man of few words, he gave you another one of his half smiles before grabbing your legs and hooking them on his shoulders so there would be no getting away from him. Not one for wasting time, he laid his tongue against your vestibule and licked a flat stripe up to your clit. He sucked against it, with just enough pressure to get you to thread your fingers through his hair, but not enough to give you any real relief. He brought a finger up to your entrance, coaxing out enough of your wetness to coat his finger and ease the slide into you.

You gasped as he teased you, only using one finger, barely applying the pressure you wanted on your clit, rubbing his stubble against you every once in a while. You tugged a little on his hair, silently begging him to give you what you needed, but he just laughed against you. The vibration made you whimper, and he pulled away, leaving his index finger buried in you but not moving.

“What is it, hermosa?”

“Please, Tovar!” He wrinkled his brow.

“Please what?”

“Please don’t tease me,” you begged.

“Oh, she wants to come, does she?”

“Yes, baby, please!”

He went back to your clit, lapping at it and adding a second finger. He added more pressure with his tongue, started curling his fingers inside you, seeking out that one spot that could make you see stars. You grabbed his hair with both hands now, trying to get him closer to you, a whine building in your throat. You squirmed against him as you felt your orgasm starting to build, but he pressed his free hand into your hip.

“You wanted to come, hermosa? Then come you will, but you will hold still and take it.”

His words came dangerously close to causing you unravel right then. He started humming against your pussy, adding the small vibrations to the combination of sensations already dragging you to the edge, and pushing you over the edge as you tugged at his hair and cried out. He lapped at you, taking everything you gave him, bringing you to the edge of it being too much before he lowered your legs and helped you move to lay against the pillows.

You watched as he pulled his pants off, cock finally free, the head of it red and oozing precum. Your mouth watered at the sight of it, but he was covering your body with yours before you could move to take what you wanted. He kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on him, a heedy combination that made your head spin. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he reached down to rub the head of his cock against your clit, eliciting a small moan as you squirmed again, wanting him inside of you.

“Do you know why I have so many pillows under you?”

“No, why?” You were breathless already, making the question short and to the point.

“Because I want you to see what I see every time I fuck you, how you stretch around me and take me so beautifully.”

You keened as you looked down at where the head of his cock was resting at your entrance, not pushing just let. He was waiting for you. You nodded, wanting him inside of you more than air. Satisfied, he pushed in slowly, so slow you could feel every ridge and vein as it rubbed your walls opening you up for him. He was right. You weren’t sure how you did it, but your pussy took him like it was made for him. The sight took your breath away, watching him bury himself into you until you couldn’t quite tell where you ended, and he began. He paused a moment.

“M—Move please, baby, I’m ready.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, setting a slow but borderline brutal pace. While he pulled out slow enough that you could savor it, could whimper at the gradual loss of him, he also slammed back into you. The way you were positioned, it made it feel that much tighter. You threaded the fingers of one hand through his chest hair while the other made its way to your clit. You wanted to rub small circles, but he redirected them to just above your pubic bone, making you feel the way it bulged slightly as he fully seated himself inside of you. You left them there, letting him do the work and rub at your clit, gently guiding you back to the edge of another orgasm.

“Are you going to come again for me?”

“Yes, chef.” You couldn’t keep the epithet from falling from your lips, not when he was guiding you through what he wanted from you. He kept up the same movements at the heat of your release started to build again, spreading in from your toes and fingers until it coiled and burst, making a mess of your thighs, and pulling a swear from Tovar and he slammed into you faster you now. You clamped around him again as you felt his release coat your walls.

He rested his arms on either side of your head and leaned down to capture your lips again. He went to slip out of you, but you held him in place.

“What’s this?”

“I—I want to stay like this. Want to keep you inside me until midnight.” You did your best to keep eye contact, but the heat making its way across your face and reality of asking for this when you thought he wanted to leave you, clean up made you look away; you would have buried your face in the crook of his neck if the positioning had allowed for it. He took your chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing you to look at him.

“Then stay like this we will.” He carefully helped you roll over so that he was still inside you, but you could rest on his chest. “I planned ahead to be in here at midnight while you were in the bath, so we don’t have to move at all until you are ready to.” He gestured at the two glasses and bucket of ice containing a bottle of cava, as well as a bowl of grapes.

You laid your head on his chest, still holding his gaze.

“Happy almost new year, Tovar.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Feliz año, cariño.”

#pero tovar #Pero Tovar x reader #chef!tovar x reader #chef!tovar #pero tovar fanfiction

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true-blue-megamind · 3 years

Text

Daylight and Dark Ch. 3 - Ares

Photo by Joe Waranont

Some Yuletide silliness and... At last! Enter the villain!

CHAPTER RATING: Teen; FULL FICTION RATING: Explicit. WARNINGS FOR ENTIRE WORK: violence, sex, language, references to prior domestic abuse, and rock n’ roll! CHAPTER WARNINGS: brief description of violence.

There is nothing NSFW in this chapter, but it is a bit long, so I am adding a Click Here to Keep Reading link. You can also read the entire entire fiction HERE.

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There were moments in life when Roxanne couldn't help but think about perspective: about how funny it was that a person could never clearly see the road to their destination until that destination had been reached. She'd felt that way one bitter winter morning, in her office, when she had suddenly realized that she was becoming one of those sentimental hack reporters she'd always hated. She'd felt that way on the long-ago windy spring afternoon when she had finally understood that she would never have feelings for Metro Man, and she'd felt it on the early summer day last year when she'd learned, to her own surprise, she was in love with his former nemesis. Roxanne had that same feeling tonight. Stepping out of the taxi Megamind had insisted on paying for she'd immediately been met by three brainbots, two of which immediately took charge of her small suitcase. Greeting them with pats, she had walked the last block through the biting December chill with her unusual escort bowging at her heels. The little cyborgs had darted away once their charge reached Megamind's invisible doorstep, probably to inform their master of her arrival. Now she stood alone and stared at a cross-stitched sampler, hung incongruously beside what appeared to be a solid wall, which read: "Lair Sweet Lair" in slightly crooked letters. What was he up to?

That September afternoon on the balcony, after the first night they'd made love, had been a turning point in Roxanne and Megamind's relationship. She had expected that, of course, but now that she had arrived at this still-mysterious milestone in her life, something in the back of her mind teased that it had been even more important than she'd realized. They had shared deep, personal sorrows, hidden from all other eyes, and an impenetrable glass wall had been removed. She realized, at this moment, that something undefinable had happened as well. Ever since that day, something had begun building between them, unnoticed and unspoken, creating a channel into which two spirits were poured and mingled. Try though she might, however, that something refused to slide into focus. It was both elating and terrifying, for Roxanne had not fully expected the cozy intensity that she and Megamind had found. How was it possible to feel so relaxed, so at home, around someone that being near him was like snuggling into a favorite sweater, while still feeling so powerfully and passionately attached to that same person that he made you antsy, strangely warm, and a little nervous? How was it even possible to feel simultaneously self-conscious and comfortable in the first place?

The oddity of those emotions was disconcerting enough, but worse still was the fact that Roxanne had realized that she no longer loved solitude, because solitude meant Megamind wasn't around. True, she still enjoyed many of the same quiet hobbies— reading books, binging sci-fi movies, solving crossword puzzles—but now she was only happy if a certain blue alien was beside her, busily sketching design schematics for his latest invention, or pointing out in hilariously descriptive detail why a particular piece of film prop "space tech" wouldn't actually work at all. She had always disdained those couples who seemed to be attached at the hip: the sort that showed up to every party together and skipped any function one of them couldn't attend. Now it seemed she was becoming half of one. Worst of all, she didn't mind. She liked it. She was sublimely happy with it.

What is wrong with me?

She and Megamind had fallen into an easy rhythm as serene and unquestioning as the deepest friendship, yet had retained all the fire and ardor of a new infatuation. A traitorous little voice in her head asked if this was the way people felt before they got married, moved to the suburbs, gained ten pounds, and started daydreaming about babies. She refused to listen, refused to even consider the possibility of leaving chic professionalism for matrimonial doom, but that same little voice reminded her that it wouldn't be so bad as long as it was with Megamind. Despite all her denials, Roxanne had to admit that something new had grown between herself and her favorite hero, inching up, bit by bit, undetected, until suddenly she noticed it was all around her. Small kindnesses, shared moments, camaraderie, and passion had all built into something beautiful, strange, and a little scary.

Which is what brought her to tonight and her current situation, as she stood shivering in the winter evening, looking at that foolish sampler and wondering why the sight of it set alarm bells ringing in her head. Megamind had invited her over, insisting that he had a Christmas gift that couldn't wait for Christmas, and she had not considered the oddity of the date until this moment.

Why now? Why tonight?

That was it. Roxanne's eyes widened with a realization that should have been obvious. Today was December 12th. Exactly eighteen years ago Margaret Ritchi, Roxanne's mother, had taken a turn too quickly, swerved on icy pavement, and ended her life. Although it wasn't unusual for Roxanne to visit her lover in the middle of the week, it was unlike Megamind to ask her over at a specific time, especially when she had just gotten back into town, tired after a business trip, which indicated that he probably had something planned. It would be exactly like him to researched old traffic incidents just so that he could invite her over to cheer her up on the anniversary of her mother's death.

The question was, was he just planning on distracting her from her memories, or did he have something more serious in mind?

"Miss Ritchi," Minion appeared through the hologram wall, less than two feet away from Roxanne. She had to crane her neck up to look into the fishy face set atop his six-foot-tall robotic body. "Miss Ritchi, if you please, could you come inside? He's been watching you on the monitor for ten minutes and he's starting to worry."

"Oh, I… Of course. I'm sorry Minion. I just—"

It was always odd watching a fish smile. "No apologies needed. Just come inside before you freeze."

He ushered her through with the wave of a metallic arm, and Roxanne stopped so suddenly that he nearly crashed into her as he followed.

"Oh, my…"

Garlands. The Evil Lair was strung with garlands of faux evergreen twigs, plastic holly, and red and gold ribbons. Multiple strings of colored lights, hung with no apparent order or plan in mind, blinked, chased, and sparkled in crisscrossing lines until the flashing dials and blinking buttons in the workroom looked like no more than additional decorations. In the middle of the yuletide chaos stood a massive Christmas tree, its top nearly lost in the shadows of the high ceiling. Brainbots hovered and buzzed around it, trimming it in a haphazard fashion that Roxanne suspected explained the random order of the rest of the decorations. Most of the items being hung on the tree were normal— glass balls, silvery snowflakes, diminutive, jolly Santas— but every now and again a brain bot added a shiny bit of wire or a large metal nut. Christmas carols were blaring from the nearby stereo.

"Roxanne! What do you think?" Megamind's happy voice startled her from her contemplation. He jumped down the last two industrial steps leading up to the second floor, his face glowing with good cheer and one arm sweeping out proudly to indicate the scene. Roxanne turned her eyes back to the seasonal décor and the happily buzzing robots. After the initial shock, it really wasn't so bad. In fact, it was almost cute, like the messy decorations of enthusiastic children.

"It's wonderful," she answered, turning back to her lover with a genuine smile.

He beamed at her. "I'm so glad you like it! And look," he added with a sly smile. "We've got rocket-toe!"

"Mistletoe, silly," Roxanne smiled, leaning up to give him a soft kiss.

"Rocket, missile, what does it matter? Missiles have rocket propulsion systems."

"Uh-huh," Roxanne's expression was all wry amusement.

"The early Soviet Vostok rockets were based on the R-7 ICBM," Megamind informed her. "So I can see no reason whatsoever why rocket-toe should be any less—"

"Megamind?"

"Hmmm?"

"It's still called Mistletoe."

"Potato, tomato, potato, cucumber," he answered with a teasing grin.

Roxanne laughed. "Cucumber? Really? Why cucumber?"

"Well, they both grow on vines. Yet tomatoes are technically fruits while cucumbers are vegetables."

Roxanne laughed. "I always thought that was kind of weird. I mean: why?"

"They're gourds."

"What?"

"Cucumbers. They're gourds."

"Megamind, I was talking about the tomatoes-are-fruits thing."

"Ah, well, botanically, they're ripened flower ovaries that contain seeds, and—"

"Sir—" interjected Minion.

"And this will really blow your mind: so are zucchinis!"

"Sir—"

"Think about it: cucumbers and zucchinis, so similar yet so different."

"Sir! Didn't you have something to show Miss Ritchi?"

"Oh! Of course!" his face lit up, and he grabbed Roxanne's hand. "Come up! You'll love this! Wait until you see the dining room!"

"Dining… But you don't have a—"

"We do now! Follow me!"

He pulled her bodily past the command room and back up the metal stairs, her surprise growing with every step. The conference room near the kitchen— which had never seemed to serve much purpose since any meetings involved only Megamind, Minion, and, during the last several months, Roxanne— had, indeed, been transformed into a cozy dining room. Another garland swagged across the doorway, and a dark wood table, set as if in expectation of a festive meal, displayed a centerpiece of holly and ribbons surrounding three crème-colored candles. Beside the industrial stairs leading to the third floor— their banisters also bedecked in Yuletide fashion— the plain bathroom that had once served the offices over the factory had been updated and expanded. It looked as if it belonged in a wealthy grandma's house— if Granny had decided to go Goth. A largely unused, cavernous storage space had been turned into a sitting room. It proudly boasted not only a black leather sofa, matching recliner, and built-in dark wood bookshelves stuffed with second-hand volumes, but also an old-fashioned pot-bellied stove that Roxanne was almost certain was against fire codes. In one corner, a more elegantly decorated Christmas tree— probably Minion's work— stood glittering with white lights and antique glass ornaments.

Even that wasn't the most shocking addition to the new living space, however.

"Megamind, there aren't any external walls here. How on earth did you put in windows?"

"Isn't it great?!" he threw himself into the chair, grabbed a remote control from a side pocket, and aimed it at the window. Instantly the view of Metro City Beach was replaced by a forested mountain range.

"It's absurdly simple, really: just a high-definition plasma monitor that I mounted behind framed glass and connected to video feeds that I've had set up in various locations! That conversation we had last autumn about your apartment windows gave me the idea. Look! If you don't like the view, you just change the scenery with a press of a button!"

He clicked the control a couple of more times, bringing up a snow-covered prairie, a quaint French village, and a tropical reef.

"Minion picked out the last one," he explained. "It also interfaces with the supercomputer, so you can use it for research, calls… Look, the frames retract for a better view!" he demonstrated. "Then you push this button, and... voila!" A holographic keyboard had appeared in midair above the remote. Megamind set the device down, and, to Roxanne's astonishment, began typing. A browser popped up on the "window," and he navigated to a video featuring winter scenery to the accompaniment of a Boston Pop's Christmas album.

"Megamind, that's really amazing," Roxanne managed. "All of this is, really... I mean, you've made it so—" she almost said "homey," but bit back the word and finished with: "comfortable."

"I'm glad to hear you say that!" There was something warm in his voice that both thrilled and frightened her. "Oh! Oh! Oh! But it gets even better!" He leaped up and tugged her out of the room. "Let me show you what we've done upstairs!"

The third floor, once comprised of large executive offices, was where Minion and Megamind slept. Roxanne had been there many times in the past weeks, though she was admittedly usually too preoccupied to give much attention to the décor.

Megamind's room had changed from a blacked-out bachelor pad to a stylishly Gothic bedchamber. The walls were a rich blue. A full suite of carved ebony furniture—bed, wardrobe, nightstand, and chest of drawers— had replaced the previous collection of mismatched thrift finds. The ornate four-poster sported a new satin coverlet set in hues of gray, black, and cobalt, and was piled with silky-looking ash-colored pillows that Roxanne suspected matched the sheets. An impressionist oil painting of a historic street at night— rendered almost entirely in blue shades and black shadows— and a large mirror both hung in antique silver frames. Two lamps and a small chandelier, all wrought iron, completed the picture. It belonged on the cover of Evil Lair and Garden. Or maybe as the set of a photoshoot for Bad Boys Weekly. That would be better. All it lacked was its sexy male occupant lounging on the covers. The thought made Roxanne shiver with delight.

Minion's room reminded her of a garden pool, all greens, browns, and teals. Its bamboo furnishings and simple stone accents gave it a slightly Asian ambiance. The style was completely different from Megamind's Vampire Chic bedroom. Full of clean lines and abstract art, it looked more like a post-modern interior design catalog than a Goth culture magazine.

"He picked everything out himself," Megamind was saying. "You should have seen him, like a kid in a candy store! When I told him I wouldn't invade his privacy by bringing you to his room, he was utterly offended! He insisted that if I didn't show you he would never speak to me again. And that I could expect literally everything he cooked to be smothered in mayonnaise for at least a week!" The blue man made a show of shuddering in horror. Looking around, he added: "I should have let him redecorate years ago."

"I'm curious, why is there no bed?"

"Roxanne, he's a fish. He lives in a fishbowl."

The grin she gave him was three parts knowing and one part sly triumph. "And so he has a bedroom because….?"

Megamind blushed a little under his blue tint. "Well, I mean, you know..."

Cocking one arm to rest on her hip, Roxanne gently poked his chest with her other forefinger. "I always knew you were a big softy deep inside, even when you were a supervillain."

He spluttered. "That isn't… I am not… I was disgustingly horrifying! And..."

She laid a finger over his lips. "I always knew, and I love you for it." Smiling into his emerald eyes, she tilted her face up to give him a long, deep kiss. "Now, before you take me back to your new bedroom, tell me: what's that other door at the end of the hall?"

"That, well," He smiled and rubbed one ear, a nervous gesture she had come to adore. "That's my early Christmas present to you. Come have a look."

He took her hand gently this time, and when he pushed open the third door, Roxanne's mouth fell open.

"Ta-da!" he spun to face her, cloak billowing. His tone was all bold showmanship as he swung his arms wide to encompass their surroundings, but Roxanne knew him well enough to recognize the uneasiness hidden behind the bravado.

She stared around wide-eyed at the vaguely familiar round room. Everything in it had been changed so completely that it took her a moment to recognize the place she had awoken during her final kidnapping. The industrial elevator and second floor had been removed. A spiral staircase now led to a cozy loft and catwalk lined with wooden bookcases. All of the equipment had been moved out, the domed walls and ceiling had been expertly plastered and painted, and, where there had once been a telescope with mechanical shutters, there were now two glass doors leading onto a private balcony overlooking Lake Michigan. It was… perfect. Wonderfully, frighteningly perfect. Her own style—too formal to be modern but too clean to be antique—her favorite colors—sage green, sky blue, and soft ivory with cheerful red accents. The bookshelves—obviously custom-made to fit the curving walls—and few other pieces of furniture were warmly-stained oak that exactly matched the contents of her apartment. There were several empty spaces where she was clearly intended to move in her things. Roxanne knew she should have been thrilled—all the work, care, and expense he'd put into this would be enough to make any one of those silly interns goofy with elation—but all she could feel was cold dread.

"I was thinking we could put your living room suite upstairs to make a reading nook! And look!" He grabbed another remote control from a bracket on the wall. "I've renovated the alligator pit!" With the push of a button, a round trap door—one the reporter remembered with something almost like fondness— opened, and a half-moon desk with a cushy office chair rose on a platform to click into place with the rest of the floor. "I've, ah, also included controls in a hidden wall panel. I know how you lose remotes." He paused expectantly. "So, what do you think?" His smile was starting to look a little forced around the edges.

"Wow, Megamind," she tried not to sound unhappy. His feelings could be so easily crushed, though he excelled at hiding it. "This is…unexpected..."

His face fell slightly, and she searched quickly for something more positive to say.

Deciding on gentle honesty, she added: "I mean, this is exactly the way I would have decorated it myself. I had no idea…"

"Really?" God, she hated the vulnerable hope in his eyes.

"It's beautiful. It is. And sweet. But…"

"But?" he urged uncertainly, nervously fiddling with one of the studs on his black leather gauntlet.

"It just… This… All of this… It's happening so fast." It sounded like a canned response even to her.

True to form, her blue-skinned lover tried to put on a brave face with humor. "Oh, come on, you already sleep here more than you do your own place. This would make everything easier."

"Megamind, this is serious. I'm not sure if I'm ready yet."

"If there's one thing I've learned from all my battles, it's that there are some things you'll never feel ready for, but if you really want it, you just have to jump in anyway."

"Okay, but this? We've never even discussed me moving in, and this is just one step away from being married, and… I just…" she sighed. "I love you. I do, but I've never lived with someone before, and I… I need a little time to think this over." she finished lamely. Seeing his unhappy face, she added: "I'm not necessarily saying no, just...not yet."

"But Roxanne—"

"This is a wonderful gesture, but it's so sudden. I just don't think I can."

"Of course you can. Please, Roxanne, Sweetheart, say yes. Stay here with me," his voice took on an almost pleading tone. "It doesn't have to feel like we're living together. That's why you have a separate bedroom. Whenever you need time to yourself, you know I'll always give it to you."

"Megamind, it's not—"

"This doesn't have to be any more than you want it to be."

"Megamind, please—"

"I'll never invade your privacy unless you want me to." He dropped his voice to a sultry purr. "And when I do, I'll invade it very, very well."

"That isn't what—"

"I promise I'll be the best roommate you've ever had. We share a bathroom," he indicated the door on the left-hand wall. "The plumbing was insufficient for two, but there is a double sink. And I can use the facilities downstairs if you need me to."

"That's really sweet, but it's not the issue. I'm not ready for this."

"Stay anyway."

"I can't"

He crossed his arms. "Can't, or won't?"

"Why are you being so pushy about this?! You never push! And now you're asking me to give up my apartment, change my life… Megamind, that's a huge decision!"

"You're right. I never push. I've never before asked you for anything unless it involved protecting this city. But you know what? I'm asking now. This is the only request I've ever made of you. So please, please do this for me."

"Damn it, Megamind, that is so unfair!" Hot tears stung Roxanne's eyes. "I can't! Not yet! I'm not ready! And it's really low of you to pull that never-asked-for-anything card!"

That hit a nerve. "I am NOT pulling a card, Roxanne! I'm being very, very honest!"

"I didn't mean… I just…"

"I'm offering you everything! My home! My privacy! A place in every aspect of my life! I am offering you—a reporter!—all my secrets! I'm offering my feelings, my time, my vulnerability! I'm pulling out my heart here, Roxanne, pulling it out and laying it at your feet! Don't pay me back by stomping on it!"

There was ringing silence for a moment.

"I'm sorry," Megamind said at last. "That was… It wasn't fair of me to say..." He drew in a deep breath. "I just really need you to stay here."

Roxanne swiped at her eyes in frustrated, jerky movements.

"I think I'd better go."

"No! Wait!" he grabbed her arm.

"Let go!" She demanded. He did and she stormed toward the door.

"Roxanne!" Megamind dodged around to block her path. "Roxanne, I'm sorry, but I can't let you leave yet. Please listen to me! I know you're upset, but please let me explain!" He braced his back against the door as she tried to push past him. "This isn't just about me wanting you close! This is about your safety!"

"My… Oh, God, now you're starting with the helpless damsel crap?!" She tried to push past him again. "Let me out!"

"I will, Roxanne, as soon as you hear what I have to tell you."

She glared at him. "Let. Me. Out."

"Sweetheart, please..."

"Megamind, I mean it!" she yelled. "You promised me! You said no more real kidnappings! You promised! Let me out!"

The pain in his eyes was like a punch to Roxanne's heart, and that somehow made her temper burn even higher.

"You promised!" she said again, her voice rising nearly to a shriek.

"That's not what this is, Roxanne! If you would just listen I wouldn't have to do this! You think I like feeling like a monster?!"

"Then stop doing it!"

"I can't. Not when you're trying to run away rather than listen. Look, you're angry. I don't pretend to know why, but I accept that you are," His voice was deliberately calm, emotion simmering underneath, but he held his ground, pressing his weight back harder when she scrabbled for the doorknob. She wanted to slap him. "But, Roxanne, I still need you to listen," Megamind lifted one hand like he meant to touch her cheek, but stopped himself, closing his fingers on thin air. "I know you can take care of yourself under normal circumstances, but things have changed. Something's happened, and now… Metrocity isn't safe for you anymore."

That stopped her in her tracks. "Megamind, what are you talking about?"

"I didn't want to bring this up until I could gather some more information." Fishing into his pocket, he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. "I didn't want to worry you, not until I had a plan…" He sighed. Reluctantly, Megamind handed over a folded letter. His lover opened it to reveal oddly formal calligraphy.

My Dear Hesperos,

I have recently undertaken a business proposition in Metro City, which I understand is under your protection. In general, I applaud your intelligent planning and remarkable success in execution, but I wish you to understand that I cannot allow my operations to be jeopardized. Although your newfound love of justice and position as Defender of Metro City are both, to say the least, surprising, I shall not disparage your change in career. However, I believe that you also have seen enough of the world and society through the eyes of a villain to know that law and justice are, too often, completely disparate, and that sometimes an act of villainy is the only truly righteous course. Therefore I am sending this correspondence as both a professional courtesy and as an offer of peace.

Out of respect and remembered fondness for you, I desire to find a mutually beneficial compromise. It is therefore my hope that this communication will achieve two purposes. First, I wish to assure you that, as my plans currently stand, my activities within your city will neither be aimed against the populace at large nor intended to undermine the normal daily operations of the city itself. I will not, however, insult your intellect or my honor by claiming actions will be viewed, by the strictest interpretation of the law, as anything other than criminal. Nonetheless, be assured that it is my intention to complete my business quickly, discreetly, and without any more loss of life than is necessary. Second, I wish to cordially advise you not to attempt to dissuade me. I do not desire harm to come to you, or any dear to you, but I am a gentleman of business and must protect my interests. If you will consent to allow me to complete my task without interference, you will hardly notice my presence. However, if you take it upon yourself to trouble me, I am afraid I shall have to extract a dire price.

I would take no joy in harming a lovely young lady like Miss Ritchi, but accidents do happen, especially to those who oppose me.

Yours in Good Faith,

Ares Coeus

Roxanne felt slightly cold by the time she finished reading. To think that two minutes ago she'd been worried about whether Megamind wanted to become too serious!

But she hadn't become a star reporter by letting fear control her. "Wow, okay. So, this is... Not what I expected." She looked at him. "I'm sorry... I..."

"It's alright, Love. And I understand. Believe me, it's thrown a wrench into my gears, too."

She nodded, forcing her mind to focus as panic tried once again to drown her natural spunk and curiosity. "Ares? Like the god of war?" she managed a wry grin. "Really? That's a little dramatic." Her attempt at a smile smile felt wrong, like it was stretched too tight.

Megamind didn't share her humor. "Yes, Sweetheart, like the Greek god of war."

Something about that name tugged at the depths of her mind. "I think... I think I remember hearing something about him now. Ares escaped Metro City Prison for the Criminally Insane when I was in the fourth grade. No one except you had ever done it before. No one except you has done it since. People were panicking. Some parents wouldn't let their kids go to school." She paused. "That was weird, now that I think about it. They never did that when you escaped."

"I was not just the local supervillain but also a recognized super-genius. My escaping was almost expected, even if they did everything they could to prevent it. That was just another Tuesday. But Ares' escape wasn't part of the show. They couldn't tell themselves it was only because of my extreme brilliance and ingenuity; not when the escapee was another human. That made it more... real."

Roxanne nodded and cleared her throat. "So… Hesperos. Is that you?"

"Yes. It was Ares' name for me. Hesperos Oldwin."

"Oldwin. That doesn't really fit the pattern. All the other names he chose sound Classical."

"You're right. It doesn't. Ares was obsessed with Greek myths, among other things—especially with both his namesake and with the story of the titan Cronos eating his own children, who were then reborn as gods—but the ancient Greeks didn't have a word for 'blue.'"

"Seriously?"

He made a brave attempt at a chuckle. "Clearly they didn't appreciate the finer things, at least where colors were concerned," His weak smile couldn't seem to hold onto his lips, and quickly fell away. He sighed. "Anyway, Ares gave me the name Hesperos Oldwin because it means Morning Star Blue Sky. The blue part is obvious—"

"Hmmm," she agreed

"And then, of course, my escape pod came from the stars and fell from the sky one morning."

"So he was, what? Your friend? Why is he threatening you?"

"I think I was the closest thing to a friend Ares ever had, but that wasn't very close. More like hero worship." At Roxanne's look, he grimaced slightly. "Remember, I was young and… less brilliant."

"But you liked him?"

"'Like' is too strong a word. Ares was… strange, but he enjoyed my company when I was a boy because I was the only one who could keep up with his intellect, even beat him at chess, although I quickly learned that outsmarting him too much led him to abandon me for days on end. He could be… disinterested, but more often he talked to me, sometimes for hours, when he wasn't locked in solitary confinement. I thought he was cool— smooth, sophisticated, well-spoken, smart, tough— and maybe I liked finding someone fairly close to my own age who didn't revile me for a change." He studied his black boots. "Maybe it made me feel special that I was the only other person he bothered naming."

Roxanne gently lifted his chin. "You were lonely. I can't really blame you."

"I can." Megamind sighed. "As I grew older I began to realize that some things about him were just… off. It wasn't until years afterward that I learned 'morning star' is also the meaning of the name Lucifer, as in the devil in most Abrahamic religions. By that time Ares was already gone, but I have the feeling the parallel wasn't an accident. The worst part is, I don't think he meant it as an insult."

"Okay, but how much of that is just a persona? You once said that the difference between a villain and a supervillain is presentation."

"Minion said that," he reminded her.

"It's still true."

"This is different."

"I don't mean he's necessarily a supervillain. You grew up in prison. You're better at analyzing criminal minds than any psychiatrist I've ever heard of. I've seen you figure people out so fast it's almost like mind-reading. I'm guessing Ares isn't his real name, so clearly he's putting on a show. How much is him and how much is just an act?"

"Oh, you don't understand!" Megamind threw up his hands and began pacing. "Ares does not play at evil insanity. He's the real deal! No one in that prison ever crossed him. Convicts, guards, even the warden feared him. Most people, even criminals, have limits… lines they won't cross, but Ares… He had no lines. He would be a perfectly nice and polite man until someone did something he didn't like—anything, a tone of voice, the wrong look—and then, in a flash, he could turn horrible and callous. He would get this cold smile on his face, and you knew sometime soon something truly terrible was going to happen to that person. And it never bothered him. Not even a little."

"You make him sound like a monster."

"He is."

Roxanne stood up and stopped his pacing with a hug. "No, Megamind. He's just a man."

With a sigh, Megamind gently pushed her away. "Roxanne," he looked her in the eye. "I was twelve when Ares was arrested. He was only a few years older than me, not quite a legal adult, but they sent him to a high-security facility for the criminally insane. Do you know why? When he found out his father was cheating on his mother, Ares murdered both the man and his mistress. And not in a crime of passion. He searched, learned, planned, and prepared. He found out about the spa resort his father often took his mistress to— an exclusive and very discreet place outside of town—"

Roxanne was starting to feel a little sick. "Oh my God… The Nelson Case. You knew that guy?"

"Yes. Ares' real name is Eric Nelson."

"I read about that trial for a paper when I was in college. Did he really kill them in the steam room?"

Megamind nodded. "He told me all about it. Bragged. The fake ID, the forged credentials, the Social Security System hack… And then he got a maintenance job at the spa resort. Even though he was rarely around guests, he was always in disguise, even changing his mannerisms and the way he walked… He learned how the steam system worked, created a bypass for the safety measures…." Megamind shuddered. "Roxanne, he literally steam broiled those people alive. And he watched. He stood there and he watched. His own father…" With a shake of his head, Megamind added: "He wasn't even sorry. Ares called himself a 'soldier of righteousness,' and insisted it was the legal system that was corrupt."

"How could he think that?"

"He's crazy. But he's also calculating, cold, and cruel. That makes him dangerous. When his twisted sense of honor and justice is incensed, he is capable of truly horrific things." Megamind sighed again. "After Ares escaped prison, he joined a paramilitary organization, but apparently his philosophies were too... extreme even for them. The last I heard, he was working as an assassin, but he only takes certain jobs that he feels are in line with his off-center views of right and wrong. He's so good at making his murders look like accidents that no one— not even in the criminal underworld— really knows what his kill count is. Even so, the sorts of 'accidents' he causes… Let's just say people don't hire Ares if they want the funeral to be open casket."

"Maybe he's not serious." Even to her, it sounded more like a plea than a suggestion. "What if he's just playing mind games with you?" Roxanne trailed off as she studied her lover's face.

"No. Ares isn't like other villains we've faced… like I was. This isn't something he does for fame, money, petty revenge, or for the simple reason that he's bored out of his skull and needs intellectual stimulation. He doesn't play games, or if he does, he plays for keeps."

It felt as if ice had replaced her spine. "And you really think he'll do it? That he'll find me?"

Green eyes met hers, and something in their depths made the ice expand to fill her stomach.

"Megamind?"

He glanced away again, like he couldn't bear to see her reaction. "Sweetheart, there were..." his throat bobbed.

"There were photographs enclosed with the letter," he answered quietly, as if lowering the tone of his words would somehow lessen their impact. "They were… One was of you standing just inside the glass doors of your balcony—"

"Oh my God." she breathed, moving to collapse into the desk chair.

"One was of you leaving the news station. The last was of you jogging in Hill Top Park." He finally met her gaze again. "Sweetheart… I'm sorry… He has already found you." He knelt beside her, turned the desk chair to face him, and took her hands in his, looking earnestly up at her. "I have to try to stop him. You know I do. I'm the good guy now. But I can't do that and watch your back at the same time. Not if we're apart. That's why I really, really need you to stay here."

Something in her vaguely understood that she should care about that, but it suddenly seemed as if her brain, overwhelmed with terror, had opted to turn itself off. Her heart, in contrast, was screaming and she felt like she might be physically ill. This, Roxanne decided distantly, must be what a panic attack felt like.

"What about… my job?"

"Telecommute."

Her laugh sounded bitter and wild in her own ears. "I'm an on-scene correspondent. I can't telecommute."

"Then take some time off," he offered gently. "We'll talk to the station, or have the officials contact them. This is little different from a witness protection program. And it's only temporary. They'll have to understand."

"And if they don't?"

"I'll make them."

Roxanne buried her face in her palms. She heard the tread of leather boots, the sighing swish of a cape, and deft hands began massaging her shoulders. Megamind's voice spoke gently behind her.

"Roxanne. Listen to me. It will be alright. Everything will be alright. We are going to get through this. He hasn't found this place, and I've made some alterations to ensure it stays that way."

"How do you know he hasn't found your hideout?" she asked between her fingers. "You can't possibly know that."

"He hasn't. Trust me. His letter was sent to my fan mail post box. Ares likes keeping people off balance, making them feel he has the upper hand. If he had known where my Lair was, he would have found a way to deliver it directly here. He didn't, which means we're safe. I've been working on some enhancements for a while, but Minion and I have put in a lot of hours to finish them quickly. This entire building is now outfitted with a cloaking shield: a hard light hologram similar to what the holowatch produces. I took it down briefly when I saw you approach, and put it back up once you came in. Now all anyone will see is an empty, condemned building. No dome, no signs of life, nothing."

Turning the chair to face him, she suddenly threw her arms around Megamind and held him close. He knelt to let her hide her face against his neck. Like a child awakened from a bad dream, Roxanne buried herself in his warmth and breathed in the comfort of his scent.

"I really am sorry," her words were muffled by his skin. "I'm so very sorry."

He ran gentle hands up and down her arms. "I am too."

"You shouldn't be."

"If you weren't with me, this never would have happened."

"No. People assumed I dated Metro Man, and they would have assumed the same about us."

"I should have realized sooner. I should have done better."

"You're doing your best."

"We both are."

"I'm so sorry I yelled at you."

"You didn't know."

The moment of weakness passed, and Roxanne gathered herself, gluing pieces of broken confidence back together with spunky determination and brave humor.

"Yeah, well, you know, you could have told me this sooner and saved us the trouble of arguing," she jibed halfheartedly, her crooked smile appearing through tears.

His answering grin was weak, and a little sad. "I didn't want to have to tell you. Not now, not tonight. And I didn't want to ruin your holidays." His shoulders drooped slightly. "Tonight was supposed to be about cheering you up. I wanted to make you happy, not terrify the living daylights out of you."

"But I thought you liked terrifying me. Why else did you kidnap me all the time?"

"How else could I spend time with you? Besides, you were never truly scared of me. Annoyed, yes. Sometimes even angry, but never scared." He wrapped her in an embrace. "And I happen to think you're extremely sexy when you're angry."

That drew a tearful laugh from Roxanne. "Right, because, you know, that's one I've never heard before." Sighing, she looked back at her new bedroom. "Thank you for everything you've done, Megamind. If it's okay, I'll enlist the brainbots' help in moving my things tomorrow."

"I'll be glad to have them give you a hand, but we should do it late at night. That's when Ares… works. He'll be less likely to be watching your apartment."

They were silent for a moment.

"Well," Roxanne's voice held a tone of determined calm. "At least we have a plan."

He smiled. "We have a plan."

There was another pause.

"So..." casting around for something to say, Roxanne landed on: "how long has Ares been in Metro City, and what do we know so far?"

"Not much. I got the letter last Thursday, but Ares has been laying low. I've had brainbots guarding you twenty-four-seven."

"I thought I saw more of them around than usual. Wait," she looked around her room with new admiration. "You managed to get all of this pulled together in six days? That's... Darling, that's beyond impressive! That's amazing!"

"Five days, six hours, and fifty-three minutes, to be precise," Megamind answered, standing up and managing another gray smile. "Incredibly Handsome Genius, remember? You'd be surprised what can be done with a little determination, a large budget, and thousands of tireless laborers."

"Large budget?"

"I have contracts with various companies for a cut of the profits from all Megamind merchandise sold, among other things."

"Seriously? That's not standard hero procedure, is it?"

"Being a good guy doesn't exactly pay well."

"Wayne never did that."

"Ha. Metro Man was adopted by a multi-billionaire. He has a trust fund big enough to support an entire third-world country, not to mention that all of his abilities are inborn. I, on the other hand, have supplies to buy, bills to pay, evil inventions to construct..."

"I thought they weren't evil any more?"

"Well, evil only to evildoers." His burgeoning grin faltered. "Roxanne, be honest, are you angry at me? For not telling you sooner? I know you always hated it when Metro Man treated you like a powerless victim, and I want you to know that isn't why I didn't tell you. I just wanted the brainbots to do a little reconnocense first. And, as I said, I wanted you to enjoy the holiday season before I threw this at you."

Drawing close to him, she cupped his cheek and looked sincerely into his face. "No. I'm not angry. Not now that I understand." She hugged him once more. "But from now on I need you to trust me enough to just tell me things. I can't be prepared if I don't know."

"It's a deal."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

She pulled away enough to look into his eyes. "I'm sorry I doubted you."

He kissed her cheek. "I suppose it's possible I could have handled it a little better."

She finally managed a real grin. "Maybe a little." She held her hands a foot apart. "Like this much."

"Oh, come on, not that much." He moved her arms closer until her palms were only a couple of inches apart. "Maybe that much."

"This much," she spread her hands even wider.

His mouth quirked. "Now you're just being unreasonable."

Despite everything, they both laughed, releasing the tension in the air.

"I'm glad I'm here," Roxanne said.

"Me too." He held her, kissed her brow. "You'll be happy here, Sweetheart. I'll do everything I can… I want this to be comfortable, and good… You like having your own space, and that's fine, but I want you to know that this is your home, too. Always."

She felt herself smile, although the expression lacked its usual confident strength. He wasn't wrong. Sometimes Roxanne felt she practically lived in his hideout already. Well, the past few weeks had been an exception. While the blue hero had dealt with a plot by the Doom Syndicate and the usual holiday season uptick in thefts, Roxanne had been forced to travel, first covering a rare blizzard in the Upper Penninsula, then a meeting of the newly formed Michigan State Disability Caucus in Lansing, and finally attempts by members of the state legislature to conceal certain business interest's tax frauds. She and her lover had only been able to steal occasional dates during her brief returns home, and he had spent one night in a Lansing hotel with her. Even when life wasn't so busy, however, the reporter and her lover rarely spent the night at her apartment anymore. Not since Ms. Farley, a sweet but nosy elderly woman who lived next door, had caught Roxanne out in the hall one evening and invited her over for what had turned out the be the most awkwardly embarrassing cup of tea in all history.

"Listen, Dear," the old lady had said amicably after a few minutes of small talk. "Between you, me, and the lamppost, I just want to tell you that I am really very happy you and our hero have such a healthy and loving relationship, but— I really hate to bring it up— but maybe three in the morning is a little late for… nocturnal activities? And… well… you might just ask him to be a little more circumspect about his language? It's only that Len Paszek mentioned that his little boy asked last week what all those funny words the Defender kept shouting meant…"

Megamind had blushed fuchsia when she'd told him, and admitted that one of his new friends on the police force had laughingly informed him they had received no fewer than three noise complaints from other tenants in Roxanne's building.

"He seemed to think I needed to be congratulated?" the blue man had said uncertainly. "He kept slapping my back and saying I must be doing something right?"

Roxanne had felt her own cheeks burning. "I… um… yeah, that's a… pretty normal human male bonding ritual…"

"Humans are strange," Megamind had informed her.

They'd spent almost every night at the Lair ever since.

"Sir, Code C and C," Minion's voice crackled from the vicinity of his master's left hand, disrupting Roxanne's thoughts.

"Code what?" Megamind asked into his wrist.

"Cookies and cocoa!" Minion explained. "Come and get it while it's—No no no! That is not a toy! Drop it! Drop it right now!"

A sound suspiciously like breaking china echoed through the watch's speaker.

Megamind and Roxanne looked at each other and laughed again. It felt good. "I suppose we had better go downstairs while the cookies are still edible," the blue hero said. "You don't mind, do you, Roxanne? It's just that— well, you know— Minion has planned out this entire evening, and it really means a lot to him…" he trailed off as Roxanne gave him his favorite knowing smile.

"Thank you and Minion both for planning tonight. Of course I want to be a part of it." She sighed, looking down one more time at the disturbing letter. "Let's just take a step back. We can deal with this tomorrow. Besides," she brightened slightly. "I wouldn't miss Minion's home baking for anything."

Megamind chuckled again. "Be sure to tell him that." With a dramatic flourish, he swept his cloak behind one shoulder and offered her his arm. "Now, Miss Ritchi," he purred in that tone that always melted her down to her toes. "If you'll come with me, please, I fully intend to spend the next several hours cuddling by the stove, if only I could find a beautiful, intelligent woman to cuddle with."

A small, very grown-up and professional part of Roxanne hated that Megamind always knew how to make her blush. The rest of her, however, adored it.

"I think I can oblige," she answered, linking her arm through his.

He returned her smile and led her downstairs.

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wellella · 3 years

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Bullet Journal Fonts

At its most basic level, bullet journaling involves writing by hand into some kind of notebook.

But if your ordinary handwriting feels a bit too boring, you can spice things up by using different fonts in your bullet journal.

In this post I’ll explain all about improving your handwriting and give you some inspiration and examples on new fonts you can try out.

How To Make Different Bullet Journal Fonts

Are you inspired when you see an example of cute or well-executed hand lettering in a bullet journal? I know I sure am!

My own handwriting was not so special for many years. It was bit unruly and haphazard, flipping between printing and cursive from letter to letter and word to word.

So three years ago I decided to delve into the world of hand lettering and start examining what it is that makes some people’s handwriting so amazing.

My biggest takeaway is that practice is the key to creating a neater-looking handwriting. It’s all about training your fine-motor coordination. In other words, strengthening the muscles in your hands and learning which type of movement produces which results.

If you’ve learned to play a music instrument, then you probably understand what I’m talking about. Muscle memory. The more you repeat a specific movement and focus on refining it, the better you will become at it.

Easy Bullet Journal Fonts To Try

Here are some pretty simple fonts you can try to copy.

These “hand lettering” fonts are calligraphy made with brush pen markers. I used several different sized brush pens to get different styles of hand lettering.

What are brush pen markers?

These brush pen markers are special pens designed in Japan for writing Japanese kanji. They have an extended, flexible felt-tip that mimics the shape and movement of a calligraphy brush on a much smaller scale. These pens have been and still are used in Japan for writing that needs to look more presentable, such as on cards or envelopes.

Lately, Japanese brush pens have become very popular as a convenient way to do calligraphy in Western languages. Using the brush pen is more portable than using a calligraphy pen, ink, and nibs that need to be cleaned after each use. They’re also quite inexpensive. My favorite brush pen is the Fudenosuke made by Tombow. It comes in a firm and soft version, and I prefer the firm one (“shikkari”).

Faux Calligraphy

Faux calligraphy is a type of hand lettering you can make with any pen, pencil or marker – it doesn’t have to have a brush pen or calligraphy nib.

To make faux calligraphy, you write something normally but with just a little more space between the letters. Once you have written it, you go over it again, making the downstrokes wider. You can use the same pen to add thickness to your downstrokes, or you can use a different color to make a different effect. There are lots of possibilities to get creative with faux calligraphy and to come up with something that’s truly unique.

More Bullet Journal Fonts

Here are some more bullet journal fonts I came up with:

Which one is your fave?

See more bullet journal fonts in the original post at: https://wellella.com/bullet-journal-fonts/

#bulletjournalfonts #bulletjournal #bujo #handlettering #study

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milknette · 4 years

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day 30 - roommates

promise me you’ll stay, beyond the sunrise.

tumblr month: @auyeahaugust

links: ao3 | ff.net

MARINETTE doesn't know how he got her address.

She'd only moved in that day, after a haphazard decision to do so for independence and freedom in her own work. (Though the whole Ladybug-and-unexplained-disappearances thing when living her parents was a huge factor, too.)

Scratch that, it's probably the onlyfactor.

If it weren't for her parents' growing suspicion and concern due to her heroic escapades, Marinette would still choose to stay at home and with them; or at the very least, stay nearby.

She had to move a good distance away— a bus ride or so, in order to rationalize with her parents why she had to move out. ("But why do you have to leave?" "Moving would be easier for me to do my work! It cuts down on transportation time a lot.")

Never mind that as Ladybug, she can move from one side of Paris to another in mere minutes.

The apartment itself is quite modest, with enough space for her to live comfortably (but not much for anything else). Nino, Alya, and Adrien had helped her move in all her stuff, though quite a few were still left untouched inside their boxes.

It's more a reflection of Marinette's need for privacy than their helpfulness as friends, though— since a hefty amount of the items in those containers hold her carefully-curated collection of Adrien Agreste collectibles, limited edition items, and posters.

So. Many. Posters.

(It's been years, but her crush on him has only grown all the more intensely. She's grown out of her stuttering phase, fortunately, but the butterflies in her stomach don't fade, either.)

Exhaustedly, Marinette lies on her mattress.

They only left an hour ago… is it okay to miss them this much?

She's not accustomed to the quiet, especially with the bustling energy of her family and the customers that arrive for their daily dose of caffeine in the early mornings. The lack of aromatic scents of freshly-baked breads and desserts as she lays down is a stark reminder that she's not home anymore.

Marinette sighs to herself.

Maybe she's lonely.

Just a little bit.

It's in that exact moment someone comes knocking on her balcony door. The balcony is a good amount smaller than the one she had at home, only really enough for a few plants and one person—

Or one disguised cat-themed hero.

His smile's bright as she pushes away the curtain and opens the sliding door.

Chat Noir doesn't even wait for a verbal invitation; he walks inside, looking around in wonder.

"Wow, you've already unpacked a lot," he starts, noticing her sewing machine set up on a desk nearby. "You already took it out?"

An eyebrow raised. "Yeah… why?"

"I thought you were setting up your sewing area last," he starts, before absurdly coughing to himself at her suspicious glance. "I mean, considering that it's the only one without a designated space… I thought you'd do everything else first, because it's common sense, right?"

Hmmm.

"That was the original plan," she finally admits. "But I have commissions to work on, so I decided to keep it there. Temporarily, at the very least." Chat Noir nods, before Marinette gestures at him. "So… how did you find out about here?"

"What do you mean?"

"My apartment?" She asks, leaning upon the door frame. "I don't recall telling you where I was moving."

"Oh…," he pauses, sifting through her boxes. "Uh, superhero, remember? Ladybug and I make it a point to know where everybody is at all times. To protect the citizens of Paris and all that!"

Well, that's not even the slightest bit true, but it's not as if Marinette can rebuff him.

So, she nods in fake understanding instead and shrugs.

"That doesn't explain what you're doing here, though?"

Chat Noir smiles. "I figured that you'd meowss the company. You moved pretty far from your friends." He sounds almost sad at that revelation, and Marinette almost feels sorry.

(What would he be so sad for? It's not like she moved far away from him.

Though she wouldn't really know, if she did.)

"Well, I can't say that I don't appreciate you showing up." She smiles, eyes bright.

It's a sweet moment.

Until:

"You can help me unpack everything else."

(They spend the rest of the night unpacking things, but Marinette insists that one box be left alone. When Chat Noir accidentally sees a peak of an all-too-familiar model's poster flap out from its cover…

he thankfully decides against mentioning it.)

ii.

Chat Noir makes it a point to regularly stop by her apartment.

(Even at times he should be busy and on patrol— though more often than not, Marinette can't find it in herself to be angry at him.)

She still doesn't see her friends and family that often, but being with him, she finds, lessens the loneliness a lot; to the point that she finds herself more fulfilled, if anything.

At first, she figured that he'd get tired of him— seeing him both as Ladybug and Marinette, and so often, but it's the complete opposite. They talk about and do everything together, with her learning so much more about him than she'd ever expected to.

If anything, Chat Noir is good and fun company, even though she'll never admit it to his face.

It's a few months into their arrangement of random meetings when Marinette makes the mistake of going to her apartment straight home as Ladybug.

"… milady? What are you doing here?"

She pauses as she reaches for the balcony door, belatedly noticing that Chat Noir follows right after her. He's perched on the balcony railings, staring at her with confusion and almost suspicion.

Oops.

"Chat?! What are you doing here?" She points at him accusingly, almost stumbling backward. "I thought you said you were going straight home after the akuma!"

"Yeah…," he starts, eyebrows knitting together. "But I always stop by Marinette's to check on her if she's doing okay. She just moved away recently, and I just want to make sure she doesn't feel lonely or sad or anything." He pauses, realizing how his statement may sound. "I mean, speaking as a superhero, you know… I can't risk her getting akumatized! Especially since she's Multimouse and all…"

"That's actually… pretty sweet of you Chat."

He smiles softly, before suddenly narrowing his eyes. "That doesn't explain what you're doing here, though?"

She halts, evidently caught off-guard. "I— uh—"

"Ladybug… visiting Marinette… in her apartment… that means…"

"Wait, don't connect the dots—"

"Marinette's planning a surprise for me!"

"I'm not—

Wait. What?"

She's never seen Chat Noir look so excited.

"I knew she was planning something for me! You know, last time I came over, we were talking about birthdays, and I told her it was some time around this month… is that what the two of you were planning all this time? Ack, this is pawsitvely exciting my tails on end!"

Ladybug wonders how he can be so smart but so dumb at the same time.

(Well, whatever the case— it works out well for her.)

Ladybug smiles. "You know I can' tell you that!" Her voice is a notch higher than usual, as she playfully and awkwardly punches his shoulder. "… pal! Now go home and let us plan your surprise, okay?"

"Can I get a hint?!"

"Uh. Cats." She stops, almost similar to the way a robot would if they were to malfunction. "Yup. Cats. Like you. Now that's all!"

She pushes at him, before he finally relents and leaves the balcony.

The next day, Chat Noir comes to Marinette's apartment, and sees his surprise:

A cat-themed party.

Marinette looks absolutely exhausted, but seeing Chat Noir's bright smile— she doesn't quite mind it.

"Happy birthday, kitty: however old you are, and whenever your birthday really is!"

They spend the rest of the night celebrating together.

(Adrien's birthday happens a week later, and she's surprised to find out that he wants to spend it treating her out, just the two of them. She wonders why he doesn't want a birthday party, and he explains that he already had one— and nothing could top how perfect it was.

They spend the day going around together, and end it as he drops her off at her apartment. Alya and Nino insist it's a date.

Marinette vaguely wonders to herself if it was.)

iii.

Chat Noir stops by when Adrien doesn't.

Marinette rereads the text over and over again:

I'm so, so, sorry, Mari. My dad's not letting me out until I finish all the work I do. Let's hang out another time, okay? Miss you, Alya, and Nino a lot!

She sighs, walking over to turn off the oven. The scent of passionfruit macarons makes their way around the apartment, as she carefully puts them into a container. Her outfit, a nicely-fitted red dress— the one Alya calls the first date dress, shines in the room light.

It's a strong inner debate as to whether Marinette should call her friends, but she ultimately decides against it.

(It'd be mean to burst into their lives with last-minute plans, and she especially doesn't want to disappoint them with the news that her dinner-with-Adrien-and-confess-your-love plan had failed spectacularly— before she could even do anything about it.

Marinette figures that she'll just disappoint them later on.)

She raises the container of sweets to her face. "So, what should I do with this…?"

"I'd like to try them."

She almost drops the macarons as a sudden voice bounces off the walls, clutching her heart in evident surprise. "Chat? What the heck, don't scare me like that! How long were you standing there?"

He looks almost sheepish. "A few minutes… I tried knocking, but you seemed so distracted in your thoughts so I just came in." His expression turns concerned. "Are you okay?"

She shrugs. "Just a little upset, but nothing new, really."

"I'm sorry."

Marinette shakes her head. "What are you sorry for? It's not your fault." She sighs to herself, before offering the container to him. "Anyway, do you want to try this? I'm not sure if you'll like it because it's passionfruit, but…"

"Are you kidding me, I love passionfruit! It's my favorite flavor!"

He beams, before quickly taking a bite of the snack, and breathing dreamily to himself. "These taste amazing." Then, a pause. "But are you sure I should eat this? Didn't you make it for someone?"

Marinette laughs softly, then walks over to sit on the couch, gesturing for him to come next to him.

"Chat, do you love anyone?"

The question is upfront and straightforward, and he's evidently surprised by it.

After the initial shock, though, he smiles to himself. "Of course I do. She's the purrfect girl, andI think about her a lot more than I should," he says, staring at her for a good moment.

Marinette doesn't know how to describe how his stare makes her feel.

"I love someone too," she finally admits.

The words hang in the air, and Chat Noir doesn't know what to say.

"He's a lucky guy," he finally breathes, a sad look in his eyes.

"You'd think," she laughs to herself, almost bitterly. "But I don't think he feels the same way, or if he ever will."

"What do you mean— who wouldn't fall in love with you?! You're kind, and sweet, and pretty on a regular day but tonight you're absolutely stunning…"

"Haha, thanks kitty," she mutters, before holding on to her dress. "I even dressed up for him today…"

A quiet pause.

"Wait… the guy you were supposed to meet today is the one you're in love with?'

She nods silently. "Adrien Agreste. He's a good friend of mine, it's just that my feelings are something so much more than that…"

Marinette isn't looking at him directly, so she's surprised to notice him abruptly stand up.

"Sorry, I have to go."

"Chat? I'm sorry if this was too much but…"

"I'll see you around, Marinette."

It's the lack of a playful nickname that gets her.

Almost frozen, she somehow manages to nod.

And Chat Noir disappears into the night.

iv.

The next time they patrol, Chat Noir tells Ladybug they need to talk.

"Are you sure I can't reveal my true identity to anyone?"

Her answer is instantaneous. "Of course. It's too risky." She pauses, then almost careful: "Why do you ask?"

(Things have become more awkward since the last time Chat Noir went to her apartment; when he just left her without explanation and stopped showing up completely. They still meet as heroes, but it's become much more strained since then.)

He sighs to himself. "It's just… I'm in love." Chat Noir pauses, then immediately backtracks. "Not with you, of course. Not anymore. I respect that you love someone else, and I've finally fallen for someone different. And I don't want to reveal too much but… she loves me back."

Marinette feels happy for him, of course, but can't quite explain why her stomach churns uncomfortably at the idea of him being in love with someone else.

"Then, what's the problem?"

He laughs bitterly to himself. "She fell for my civilian identity."

Oh.

"So you want her to know you're the same person?"

Chat Noir pauses for a moment, as if in thought, then shakes his head. "No," he finally says. "I just want to be sure she loves the entire me, and not just the perfect character I keep up in real life. I want her to fall in love with Chat Noir, too. Because this identity's just as much a part of me as Adr— as my civilian self is."

Silence, again.

"As a superhero and the Guardian, I cannot stress the importance of keeping your identity secret. Even if it is someone you love." He winces, and she presses on. "But as your friend, I want you to be happy, kitty. So, do what you must." She smiles at him. "I know you'll do what's right."

The superhero smiles back, then abruptly gets up.

"Then if you don't mind, milady… I have somewhere to be."

By the time Chat Noir arrives at Marinette's apartment, she's already home.

"What are you doing here, Chat?"

"… for two things. Do you mind if I come in?"

She doesn't exactly willing to do so, but lets him in anyway.

"The first part is an apology." He looks at her, evidently ashamed of himself. "I'm sorry I just left like that back then. I shouldn't have left without an explanation, and it was one of the worst things I've ever done. I'm so sorry."

"As you should be," she only says, before sighing to herself. "And the second part?"

"An explanation."

"Better keep it short."

"I can summarize it in three words."

She looks up at him, suddenly intrigued. "Which is?"

"I love you."

(The dots connect themselves even without Marinette willing them to, and she catches on before Chat Noir even realizes the situation they're in.

Knowing about her address, his birthday celebrations, his love for passionfruit, the mysterious person he was in love with—is in love with, and his abrupt disappearance after her confession…

How did she not realize it before?)

The faces of two people Marinette love dearly start blending into one.

She never knew it would be possible to feel so much for one person.

Marinette starts laughing, tears in her eyes, as everything becomes that much clearer.

She smiles.

"I love you too—

Adrien."

(He almost falls off the balcony.

Fortunately, however— this time there's somebody around to catch him.)

He knocks on the correct door, this time around.

And with him, a ton of boxes and containers that tower almost menacingly around his figure.

"Sorry I had to use this door," he starts. "But my stuff wouldn't fit through the balcony."

Marinette laughs, before putting her hands to fold in front of her chest.

"That's a lot of boxes," she observes. "I don't recall you having that much of a problem with my stuff back then."

"That's because I only stayed the night."

"And now?"

He smiles, then presses a sudden kiss to her lips.

"Hopefully, I'm staying the rest of my life."

She huffs at the sudden surprise, then smiles back softly.

"I wouldn't be opposed to that."

#auyeah2020 #mlauyeahaugust2020 #auyeahaugust #auyeah august #marichat #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir #miraculous ladybug #milk writes #this got out of hand so we r using a read more tag #COZ I KNOW HOW TO USE THOSE KNOW #ml fic #ml fanfic

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carewyncromwell · 4 years

Note

1, 2, 15, 16, and 31 for Ru? Need more info on cool new guy!

Hahaha, yes! Let’s talk about my Kelpie Kid! <3

1. Their gender expression re: whole spectrum.

Ru is genderfluid, accepting both he/him/his and they/their pronouns. They largely present as male just out of convenience, since male fashion from that period (1890′s) is a little easier to move around in and doesn’t have as many layers, and because the person Ru took the place of was a boy.

2. Their sexuality re: whole spectrum.

Ru is ace/pan! Though they wouldn’t really think to describe themselves that way. But logically, they are a kelpie interacting with a bunch of humans, so any romance they might ever cultivate would likely be primarily built on romantic attraction.

15. Do they collect anything? Do they control it or it controls them?

Hogwarts is the first time that Ru’s ever had a more “permanent” base of operations, so they’ve taken to collecting a lot more than they ever did previously, now that they have a safe place to keep personal belongings. Their favorite and most standard things to collect are books and thamatropes, but they also have a bit of a problem with holding onto stupid, quirky things like a shard of green glass from a broken bottle or an oddly shaped chicken bone from lunchtime, just because it tickled their brain somehow. Over time they transition into taking pictures of those things, so as to slim down the amount of bobbles they keep.

16. What’s their taste like re: interior design, art, gadgets? If they have (had) money - antiques or modern design? Ikea or whatever? Art collecting, fashion, wine? Pokemon cards in the 90s?

Ru’s fascinated with photography. The recreation of the real world in a small, portable form that can outlast its subject is ridiculously enchanting to them, so they tend to gravitate more toward the Realism art movement, even if it’s considered a bit old fashioned compared to the “newer” Modern art movements of the Victorian era like Impressionism or Expressionism. That being said, even if they like realistic art more than the more abstract, they really enjoy it when realistic artists try to visualize the supernatural or impossible, so I could see them being the sort to enjoy Rene Magritte’s “Surrealist” art from the 1920′s. Ru also is absolutely entranced by thamatropes, zoetropes, phenakistiscopes, and “moving pictures” -- in their seventh year, they pulled some strings to get their hands on a cinematograph of their own and subsequently used it as much as they possibly could.

When it comes to home decor, Ru isn’t picky. As long as it’s relatively dark so they can develop pictures and has walls, a floor, a ceiling, and several doors and windows, that’s all they really look for. It’s likely that they’ll sort of just pile it high with haphazard stacks of books, developed and undeveloped magical photographs, and random sheets of parchment anyway. XD

Food-wise, Ru’s rather flexible about what they eat, though they definitely prefer their meat on the rawer side...but one particular quirk of theirs is their distaste for eating around anyone else. Because they’re used to having to fight with other animals like grindylows for food, Ru even now tends to wait until everyone else has left the Great Hall or take their food out of the Hall with them so that they can eat alone.

31. Their fashion sense as they age - describe it. Is it dead but delicious? Necromancer Barbie? Mall shop goth? Wannabe Parisienne? Do they belong to any subcultures? Any tattoos, piercings?

Ru tends to dress on the dishelved, but colorful side, with a lot of loose ties, unbuttoned collars, brightly colored jackets and waist coats, and black top hats. Their favorite colors to wear are in the blue/black/gray/green color palette. Although Ru presents male, however, they wear their hair much longer than their contemporaries, and they’re fond enough of jewelry that they frankly don’t care what gender that jewelry was “meant” for. The constant is an enchanted silver chain around their neck, which was, er...”bestowed upon them” by a certain part-Veela Hufflepuff @that-ravenpuff-witch, to serve as a “bridle” of sorts. ;) They also love wearing rings and earrings -- it was very scandalous to both the Hogwarts staff and the Ollivander family when Ru decided to pierce their ears, which was decidedly not something an upstanding gentleman of the era would do. *snort*

World-Building Ask!

#world building ask #ru ollivander #hphl #hogwarts legacy #about ru #estrid soelberg

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astraeal · 4 years

Text

Commission for @thedashasaproblem! Hope you enjoy; read it on AO3 here.

Farmer Marie, original character, belongs to @thedashasaproblem. Stardew Valley, and all characters and settings therein, belongs to concernedape.

“Okay! We have quite a few things we need to get done today. Marnie called – you know how I asked her to let us know if she had any more available chicks? Yes? – and said there were some new ones we could pick up, which is perfect and just in time because Robin wrapped up the coop yesterday! And that means we need fresh hay in the coop, and if we need to restock the silo then we’ll mow too. Bessie needs to be milked and we’ll check if Sweetpea has any this morning or if she’s still nursing – ugh, little Delilah is going to be so stunning when she grows up, I can feel it. Oh, and good morning babe!”

Elliott blinks from where he’d stumbled into the kitchen, his hair thrown into a messy bun and loose auburn strands hanging around his face. He is in no way prepared for Marie’s chipper enthusiasm, but that’s what made him love her, after all. And, this entire situation is something he brought upon himself.

Head full of fantastical pastoral fantasies, he’d asked Marie to keep him appraised of what it takes to run Shady Land Farm. He was good with books, which was helpful – while Marie was running about the Valley in search of delicious fruits and rare stones, Elliott appointed himself the financier of Marie’s assets.

It had been difficult; he’d consolidated sticky notes scattered about the house with haphazard reminders about supplies owed to Robin, and items to sell to Pierre at the general store vs. what should be distributed to townsfolk directly, and birthday reminders, and favorite gifts, and occasional notes written in a script he couldn’t parse but appearing on a fantastical dark blue page that made his writer’s intuition spark. (That, and his fingers burned a little whenever he held such a note, as if it knew that he was not the intended recipient, but he never let Marie know that.)

After his book tour had completed, he had taken the better part of their first fall together to consolidate these notes and square the books. It had been helpful when Marie decided to go forward with the basement upgrade, and suddenly Shady Land’s wines and cheeses were worth quite a lot more. They’d only recently begun talking about incorporating more animals into the farm, hence the phone call to Marnie. With the addition of more animals, and Marie’s additional time spent working on repairing the old Community Center, Elliott wanted to assist more. It was only fair, after all; he still got most of his writing done at night, and there was no reason he couldn’t spend more of his mornings helping around the farm.

Marie had been ecstatic, of course, and he’d glowed with the anticipated appreciation for his efforts. So far, it hadn’t been that difficult. Sprinklers handled most of the watering, and with Marie’s clear eye for design, he wasn’t getting lost in the fields as he had feared he would.

But he still wasn’t a morning person, and his brain isn’t entirely on all the way, especially when his wife has inundated him with information and her beautiful visage so early in the morning.

Marie looks up at him, wide blue eyes and a warm smile on her face, blonde hair tucked away in two braids that usually resided beneath her sunhat. The hat now rests on the worn kitchen table, two steaming mugs of coffee and cozy breakfast platters set on the table. Still processing his wife’s words, Elliott makes his way to the second breakfast platter and pours some milk into his coffee, knowing he’ll need it to make it through the day.

“Good morning, my dear,” he murmurs as he finishes those first three blessed gulps of caffeinated beverage. “Would you like me to fetch the chicks? Or shall I stay on the homestead and you venture to the forest?”

Marie takes a bite of her eggs, done up with some goat cheese – “I bought it from Pierre but when we get some we’ll make our own, and it’ll be probably fresher than this stuff!” – potatoes, and sausage in her own little scramble. Elliott’s breakfast is far more tame, scrambled eggs and farm fresh cheese, with toast on the side.

“If you want to take Miss Daisy to Marnie’s, that would be great! She could use an excursion, and she loves the woods.” Marie sets her hand – soft, thanks to the gloves she uses, but still strong and capable – over Elliott’s wrist. “If you don’t mind, that is. I know coming back with newborn chicks might be a little…difficult.”

He warms at her touch. “I’m sure Marnie has a basket or some such thing I could use, don’t fret darling. She’d never let anything happen to the animals in her care.”

Marie smiles at him, and pecks his cheek. “Alright, babe, I’ll head down to the barn –”

“Oh, I can do that!” He blushes a little after his outburst, but still gives his wife a smile. “Let me handle the animals today, my dear. The first fruits of spring will be in the orchard, and you’ve got a better sense for flora than I.”

They both remember the catastrophic effort in Elliott’s old cottage when he watered his rose with sea water and was confused as to why it was dying. That had been one of the many points Elliott began to consider Marie as more than a friend.

She gives him a look clearly conveying that she’s thinking of the same moment he is. “Well, alright. Apricots and cherries, what a combination. Oh! And the wine! I’ll be right back!” She darts away, down the basement stairs, presumably to see if any wine has finished maturing yet. Some things she pulls out early, just for a little extra cash – Gus is always appreciative of a finer quality of any type of ingredient, especially alcohol.

Elliott knows it will take her a little while to check each barrel, so he quickly finishes his breakfast and coffee, and then stands, ready to take on the day.

First, to get himself prepared.

Then, to tend to Miss Daisy.

♢♢♢

Marie loses some time in the basement, checking each and every barrel, weighing the pros and cons of switching out some of the wine barrels for cheese barrels. With Bessie and Sweetpea both producing such quality milk, Shady Land has a near excess of cheese and she knows Gus would pay a fair amount to have some for his pizzas and salads.

Then again, better quality cheese keeps her going in the mines and other excursions, so there might be some incentive to keep some around? She’d probably ask Elliott for his thoughts, but by the time she surfaces from the basement and sees the clock perched over the coffee maker in the kitchen, she realizes it’s already 2:49pm.

She’d left her husband alone for hours. Elliott isn’t incompetent, but there’s still etiquette for handling new animals, especially babies, and all of Grandpa’s farming books are written in family shorthand, something she’d been meaning to teach Elliott but just kept forgetting.

Alarmed, Marie runs out to the front porch, expecting some sort of catastrophe. Bessie to be loose – not that she’d do much but perhaps wander up towards the house and eat a few tulips or something – or maybe Aspen to have fallen into the lake (again) but instead all’s quiet. She can hear the soft bells hanging from Bessie, Sweetpea, and little Delilah, but she can’t see them through the orchard.

She doesn’t run, lest she startle anyone, but she heads towards the tree line as quickly as she can. As she approaches, she can hear her husband’s voice. She quiets her steps as she enters the dappled shade of the orchard, the apple and orange trees still dormant for the season, yet producing beautiful flowers regardless. A sweet spring wind guides some fallen petals towards her, beautifully framing the tender scene she sees before her.

Elliott sits on a stump, Miss Daisy, Bessie, and Sweetpea, grazing peacefully beside him. He and little Delilah, however, are looking down, enraptured with three small fuzzy brown and golden chirping fluffy chicks in the grass. The chicks are barely visible from her current distance, but as Elliott straightens up his long hair goes back into place, revealing a fourth little chick curled up in his hand, which he gives little pets to every once in a while.

“You’re not too different from the crab that once lived in my pocket,” the story crafter begins, murmuring to the little chick in his hand. The chick chirps in response, and Elliott chuckles. “I haven’t told you that story yet? Well, I absolutely should.”

Marie takes another small step forward, not wanting to encroach on the moment nor startle any of the beings involved. The more she watches the scene, the more she sees things she hadn’t before. Like how all the adult females stood firmly on the edge of the lake, prohibiting the chicks, Elliott, or Aspen from wandering too close to it. And a small – hopefully empty – milk pail sits next to the stump, as if her husband had finished a chore and then simply couldn’t be away from the chicks for much longer.

What gives her away is another small fluff ball in the grass, this one bigger than the chicks, a brilliant white that rockets out of the higher grass and directly into Marie’s arms.

“Aspen! Who’s a good boy?” she coos, on reflex. Miss Daisy looks nonplussed, as if she knew Marie was there the entire time, while Delilah startles a little and runs back to the safety of Sweetpea.

Elliott also startles, which startles the chicks, who all climb and jump up his pant legs and into his lap, chirping loudly until they can take cover in the safety of Elliott’s lap. “Darling! I didn’t hear you arrive!” He looks caught red handed, though with what, Marie’s not sure.

She walks over, Aspen tucked to her chest, and sees with no small amount of relief that the milk pail isn’t full of milk, but rather water. Now, she can also see a small basket, no doubt from Marnie, in which the chicks probably arrived.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to disrupt…you just looked so cute, babe! Everyone treating you nicely?” Marie leans forward, letting Aspen back down to the ground, and gives an affectionate rub to Miss Daisy, who wandered over searching for some treats.

Elliott blushes, visible even with the mid-spring flush he seems to always have on him. “Yes, quite. Everyone has been remarkably kind to me. Miss Daisy had to guide us home herself! I was, ah, a little preoccupied with the newest young ones.”

The wind picks up a little, carrying more flower petals through the air. Elliott’s long auburn waves glint caramel in the sun, unfurling to the side, revealing the turquoise earring usually kept tucked away. Marie had mined that turquoise herself; the earring had been a wedding gift from Clint, repurposing a stone Marie had sold him a few weeks prior to their proposal. (She had briefly wondered if maybe Clint and Elliott had been in on it together, as the timing was so perfect, but maybe she was simply overthinking things.)

Elliott looks completely at home, sitting cross-legged on the stump, worn down by spring rains. With the chicks in his lap and the errant flower petals in his hair, the man looks ever more like a regal prince from all the books and movies Marie had seen growing up.

“They’ve taken a liking to you,” she observes, reaching a finger in to give gentle pets to the soft downy chicks. They accept them, curious and cautious in their new home, but feeling brave under Elliott’s protection. “Have you thought of any names?”

Her husband looks up, green eyes wide. “Names? Oh, darling, I thought that was all you.”

“Nonsense! You picked them up, you should at least be able to name them. These ladies will need fine names, if they’re to live here on Shady Land. And you’re a writer, names are what you do!”

The chicks chirp in agreement, looking up at Elliott.

“Well…I was thinking this one could be Carmelina,” he murmurs, touching the lightest brown one. “Caramel, for the color, but the full name also means “vineyard of Yoba” so I find that fitting for the main exports of Shady Land, don’t you?”

Marie blinks. “You…knew the meaning of the name on the spot?”

“Of course! Clara was almost named Carmelina in Camellia Station, but I thought that would be too close to the title of the book, so I changed it. Still kept the C though.” He gets that wistful look on his face, a little lost in thought, as he usually does when trying to come up with next big ideas for his writing career.

The farmer giggles, giving more pets to Miss Daisy, who finally nosed out the cookies in Marie’s pockets. She gives one to her steadfast companion, looking at her husband with a newfound appreciation.

She takes a seat on the stump beside Elliott, looking up at him as they discussed further names for the chicks. The sun dripped down through the orchard’s branches, spreading dappled shadows up the short grassy expanse. Eventually, the cows and Miss Daisy wander back to their respective barns and stables, and the chicks doze off in Elliott’s lap. Marie delicately takes a couple – the newly named Carmelina and Dahlia – and heads off to the newly constructed coop to set them inside.

The chicks barely move when they’re set down in their new hay lined beds, clearly Elliott’s handiwork while Marie was tending to the house. The two of them hold hands, walking through the fields of Shady Land.

“You know, we could wash up and head to town. Get a late lunch at the Saloon, then maybe walk down by the beach?” Marie suggests, watching her husband for his response. She likes to spend as much time with him as possible before she loses him to his nightly writing routine, and there’s something a little tender about meandering down by the places they had fallen in love.

Elliott beams, nearly glowing with happiness. “That sounds delightful, dear. I’ll be sure to put on my best shirt.”

It’s not necessary to dress up for a 4pm lunch at the Stardrop Saloon, but Elliott likes to go the extra mile, and Marie can appreciate the little efforts to glamorize being a farmer’s husband. She kisses his dirt smeared cheek, standing side by side on the porch, and marvels at how far she’s taken the farm since her grandfather had worked the land.

Maybe someday she’d tell her husband about the vision she’d received a couple weeks ago, with her grandfather and the ultimate judging of her efforts so far, and the new, strange, blue flame candles on her grandfather’s shrine in the northwest corner of the farm. Someday. But not today.

“I wonder if Gus will have crab cakes,” she teases, stepping into their home, to the sounds of fire crackling in the fireplace and her husband enthusiastically waxing poetic about his favorite dish in the entire Valley.

Truly, it’s home.

#commissions #stardew valley commission #stardew valley #sdv #thedashasaproblem #i think after typing it so many times i NOW can read your url correctly #but i think it will always partially be 'the dashas problem'#hope you enjoy!! 💖💖💖

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hazel-writes · 4 years

Text

Summary: You begin your first official day of work and meet your new coworkers, who turn out to be full of surprises.

Word Count: 2,300

Notes: This chapter is a bit slow, but I'm excited to introduce you to some new characters! If you want to see Picrew face-claims for these characters, look here. Otherwise, imagine them to look however you want!

Warnings: brief mentions of violence

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

I'm trying hard to hide

Keep the sun out of my eyes

Close them tight

And now I'm waiting for the moon to rise

Belle and Sebastian ~ Waiting for the Moon

You walked through the door, nervously wringing your hands, despite your best efforts not to. Your eyes scanned the room, eventually landing on a large, grey reception desk. Sitting behind the desk was none other than Ms. Stoney, the uptight woman who had “welcomed” you onto the ship the day before.

You took a deep breath before walking over to her, waiting patiently for her to look up and address you — but she didn’t. You tried subtly clearing your throat, shifting your feet from side to side, and moving into her line of sight, but nothing seemed to grab her attention. Eventually you forced out a meek, “Hi, there!” to which she responded with an annoyed glance in your direction.

“Oh, it’s you again,” she grumbled with a mix of tiredness and disappointment.

“Uh, yeah, it is,” you smiled back, which you could tell bothered her. “I’m looking for the artist workspace? I know it’s somewhere within this department, but I wasn’t sure where exactly…”

“Artist?” she questioned, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah! Ya know, an individual who… does art?” Your attempt at an explanation was met by silence. “Umm… they’re usually covered in some sort of paint or clay, might dress a little funny, are often a little angsty, possibly tormented by some aspect of their past?” More silence. You give a strained smile; you really shouldn’t keep trying to talk over awkward silences. “Not ringing a bell, huh?”

Through clenched teeth she replied,“I believe the people you are looking for are through those doors on the left.”

She said the word people like it left a bad taste in her mouth. She obviously didn’t think too kindly of them.

“Great, thanks,” you replied, heading to the door she indicated.

You opened it, and to your surprise you saw no canvases, paint splatters, tin cans, or haphazard brushes littering the room. The walls and floors were a spotless white. A large, circular table was positioned in the center of the room, surrounded by sleek modern chairs and data pads on tripods. This didn’t look like your dad’s studio back home; a place where the remnants of unfinished projects were put on display for everyone to see and learn from. Here, you could already tell: making mistakes wasn’t an option. There was no room for error.

You returned your attention to what was in front of you, only to have three pairs of eyes meet yours.

The first pair belonged to a girl of medium height. She had long, slightly frazzled, blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that contrasted her pale skin. She jumped when you walked in, her face immediately lighting up when she saw you. The second pair belonged to a taller girl. She had warm, chestnut eyes that complemented her dark, sepia skin. Her hair framed her face in a fan of tight curls. She seemed to examine you carefully, squinting slightly, before turning back to her work. The final pair belonged to a boy of medium height. He had shaggy light brown hair and a tanned, terracotta complexion. He looked at you with curious hazel eyes, smirking ever so slightly.

The three of them looked to be about your age, somewhere in their 20's.

The blonde-haired girl ran over to you, pulling you away from your observations. “You must be the new girl!” she exclaimed. “I’m Rilea, your new best friend.”

You were taken aback by her enthusiastic and cheerful attitude; it wasn’t something you encountered very often on the Finalizer. You laughed nervously. “Oh, uhh… cool?”

The boy with the disheveled hair spoke up from the back of the room. “Don’t mind her, she has a new best friend each week.” He smirked at Rilea and she threw a box of tissues at him playfully.

“While that may be true,” she continued, turning to face you, “I can tell that you are going to be my favorite best friend.”

“That’s literally what you say to every single new person you meet,” the boy piped up again.

“For star's sake, Takoda, why do you have to be such a mudcrutch?!” Rilea shouted at him, frustrated.

You continued to observe in silence, still adjusting to the rapid shift of atmosphere in this room compared to the rest of the Finalizer.

You moved to go sit, finding an open seat next to the quiet, curly-haired girl. You gave her a small smile when you sat down, and she returned the favor, scooting her chair over to give you more room. Rilea, and the boy whose name apparently was Takoda, continued to argue like a couple of four year olds.

“Are they always like this?” you asked the girl seated next to you.

“Yup, pretty much,” she replied. “That is, of course, in between the times when they aren’t getting any work done… and the times when they still aren’t getting any work done.”

You laughed. “Well, at least one person here seems to have a level-head.”

“Make that two,” she said, giving you a smile. “My name is Akilah. What’s yours?”

You told her your full name before giving her your nickname, Wren, as well.

“Wren…” she pondered. “Not as in Kylo Ren, right?”

“No, no, no, stars, no,” you emphasized. “It’s the name of a- ” You paused, reconsidering. “I actually don’t know where it comes from, my friends just started calling me by it one day...”

Akilah stared at you intently for a few moments before Takoda shouted over at the two of you.

“Hey, you two aren’t gossiping about us now, are ya?”

You sighed, “Nope, just getting to know Akilah here.”

Rilea poked her head out from behind Takoda, “She's my best friend too!”

You mentally face-palmed and turned to fully face the group.

“So, this is the artist workspace?” you questioned, skeptically.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I wouldn’t go that far as to say we are artists,” said Takoda.

You were confused. “But I thought-”

“You thought wrong. Here, you just follow the rules and instructions laid out for you. We are given colors, words, and images, and it’s simply our job to assemble it all into a neat poster or flyer for distribution.”

“Oh…” you replied, disappointed.

“I’m not even an artist,” he continued. “They just stuck me here after I was medically discharged from the trooper program. For the most part, everyone in this sector just got placed here because there was nothing else they could do”

“So why did they bother hiring me then?” you questioned. “If I’m gonna be honest, I’m used to a little more creative freedom back home. They could’ve chosen anyone for this job.”

“I don’t know,” Takoda replied. “Maybe they want their propaganda to look good for a change.” He smirked.

“Where did you say you were from again, bestie?” Rilea asked.

“Oh, I didn’t,” you replied. “I’m from Lothal.”

Immediately, each member of the team looked at each other, worried.

“Lothal…” Rilea repeated. “That’s one of the Order's targeted planets right now. I have a feeling that pretty soon we'll be distributing posters there. Maybe Hux thinks you can help reason with the people there?”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Akilah added. “First Order propaganda would be a lot easier to accept coming from a fellow citizen.”

You pondered their words. What they were saying was probably true: you were simply a tool to be used by the First Order. They didn’t care about your talent or passion; they just needed your image.

“Well, I don't know how helpful I'd be on that front,” you sighed, pausing. “So what is the project you are working on now?”

“We’ll know soon enough,” said Takoda. “Our fourth member should be returning soon with our new assignment.”

“Fourth member?” you questioned.

At that moment, the door swung open with a dramatic bang, revealing a tall, lanky boy with jet black hair and evergreen eyes. He was pale with light freckles speckling his face and arms. His eyes narrowed when they met yours, scrutinizing your presence.

“Look, here he is, ‘fun-sized Kylo’ himself,” Takoda quipped.

Rilea leaned towards you. “He claims that he adopted the whole ‘tormented soul, dramatic hair’ look before Ren even thought of it,” she snickered.

You were confused, but luckily Akilah came to your rescue.

“This is Soren,” she explained. “Our fourth member… Well, fifth, now.”

“Oh!” you replied, stretching out your hand for him to shake. “It’s nice to meet you I’m -”

“Irrelevant,” he interrupted bluntly, briskly brushing past you to sit at the back of the room.

You stood there, hand still outstretched, looking to the others for guidance.

Takoda spoke first, turning to face Soren. “Hey, laser brain, why don’t ya try being a little nicer to our newest member.”

“This is our newest member?” he responded, disapprovingly. “She doesn’t look like the First Order’s finest.”

“That’s because I’m not,” you interjected, defensive. “I’m from Lothal originally. Today is technically my first day with the Order.”

At the mention of your home planet, Soren visibly tensed, his fingers curling into tight fists. The other three looked nervously at each other; they knew something you didn’t.

Akilah, again, interrupted the tense silence. “We should probably get to work… What’s the new assignment Sor?”

Hearing her voice, he seemed to relax a little, pulling out a few papers with various sketches and color swatches.

“They want us to design posters directed at the people of Dantooine. The First Order is currently working to establish a blockade on the planet. It is our job to convince the natives to submit, while also showing them that they have the ability to contribute their own assets to our cause.”

You frowned, unsure of a few posters' ability to do such a thing. You were familiar with Dantooine; its history was deeply rooted in rebel allegiance. You doubted that a few pieces of paper could somehow shift the ingrained attitudes of thousands of people. But then again, you were an artist. And as an artist, it was your job to put blind faith into your work, simply hoping that others could see what you saw in it.

“How successful has this First Order propaganda been in the past?” you asked, genuinely curious.

Takoda laughed. “Not very. Usually, it just makes the citizens more angry. But that kind of works in favor of the Order: as soon as the rebels and their sympathizers become violent, whatever happens to them at the hands of the Order is then justified, so to speak.”

“What would happen if we tried to mix things up a bit? Like attempting a different style, color scheme, or whatever it may be, to make the posters more effective?” you suggested.

Suddenly serious, Takoda spoke. “No. We don’t do anything without the Order’s permission. Never. That’s our number one rule. We can mess around and make jokes all we want in here, but whatever finished product leaves this room has to be exactly what was requested of us.”

Something in Takoda’s voice made it seem like there was history behind this rule — history that didn't conclude with a happy ending. Looking around the room, you knew you were right. Everyone, except for Soren, was avoiding your gaze, choosing to stare at their shoes or the floor. Soren continued to bore into you with a death-glare, but your instincts told you he was like this with everyone and not to take it too personally.

“Yeah, I get it,” you responded. Soren looked at you sceptically. “Trust me, you have nothing to worry about. I’m on my last warning with General Hux — another mistake will pretty much guarantee my head a new home in the trash compactor.”

“Speaking of Hux, we are to report to him tomorrow with drafts,” Soren finally spoke up.

“Tomorrow?!” Rilea exclaimed.

“Yup,” Soren replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Of course he would pull something like this, giving us less than 24 hours notice...” Rilea muttered, irritated.

“Stars, I swear that man is 90% petulant child, 7% attempted scariness, and 3% toupee,” you responded.

This earned a chuckle from the group. Even Soren managed a smirk.

“Yeah, well, sadly, that petulant child has a big red button sitting under his bony finger that can destroy entire planets in the blink of an eye,” said Akilah, quietly. “So, we should probably get to work.”

“She’s right,” you say, desperate to end any talk of Hux. “Let’s start.”

And with that, the five of you began work on what was your first official project on the Finalizer. Akilah showed you how to accurately read the diagrams that the Order had provided. Rilea and Takoda attempted to work for a few minutes before devolving into yet another tissue paper fight. Soren sat quietly in the corner, working on the new project, glancing up every now and then at you and Akilah.

Despite the hectic menagerie of personalities that surrounded you, you were glad that you weren't stuck working with cold, robotic First Order employees like Ms. Stoney. You desperately wanted to ask your new friends about their backstories and how they came to be “artists” on the Finalizer, but Takoda and Rilea were busy stuffing tissues in each other’s ears, and Akilah and Soren seemed like the ‘work in silence’ types. You decided to settle with your own thoughts for now; it wasn’t as if you were lacking them.

It occurred to you that tomorrow you would have to face Hux again, the memory of what he sneered at you in the hallway this morning still fresh in your mind: Strike two.

You didn’t know what strike three would involve, but you definitely didn’t want to find out.

Unfortunately, you didn't get that lucky.

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