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monstersdownthepath · 3 years ago

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Demigod Dossier: Velstrac Demagogues, part 1

Pictured: Aroggus, the Abbey-Maker

Lawful Evil Mad Artists of the Shadow Plane

The Complete Book of the Damned, pg. 120~121 Additional information is also present in Adventure Path: Return of the Runelords: The City Outside of Time, pg. 74~79

Our second-ever Demigod Dossier, now fully in-swing! The Velstrac Demagogues are the rulers of the Shadow Plane and all the lives within, though many of said lives within aren’t really fans of them. Natives to the Netherworld find the presence of the Velstrac an annoyance at best and a threat to their lives at worst, and would much prefer if they went back to Hell where they came from, but unfortunately for everyone everywhere they don’t appear too eager to throw themselves into the jaws of the inferno just yet. Instead, they’re busy throwing themselves into the jaws of one another.

The Demagogues represent the pinnacle of a specific subset of the Velstrac’s twisted senses of ‘art’ and ‘perfection,’ either because they’ve mutilated themselves into something wholly unlike anything else that can, did, or could exist, or they’ve pioneered a form of artistry that other Velstrac couldn’t even conceptualize in the first place and gathered a fandom. It takes some very twisted, alien forms of thinking to become a Demagogue and get others rallied behind you, even moreso because the Velstrac themselves are, putting it kindly, completely out of their gourd. When your audience already expects the insane and outlandish, you have to go even further, and many of the fiends you’ll soon see have.

We’ll only be covering four in this initial post, with the rest to be saved for later...

Demagogues view mortals as little more than primal clay to be shaped, and thus see little worth in investing true divine power into them, worshipers receive Boons that are are relatively simple: a trio of spell-like abilities, each of which may be used 1/day. Boons are normally gained slowly, at levels 12, 16, and 20, however entering the Evangelist, Exalted, or Sentinel Prestige Classes can see the Boons gained as early as levels 10, 13, and 16. Note that while they are Lawful Evil fiends originally from Hell, they are not devils, thus you cannot enter the Diabolist Prestige Class to obtain their Boons without DM fiat.

Aroggus, the Abbey-Maker

Demagogue of Possibility, Revenge, and Sanctuary Domains: Evil, Law, Protection, Trickery Subdomains: Deception, Defense, Fear, Tyranny

Obedience: List the names of those who have wronged you until the writing covers a page, then consume the parchment. Benefit: Gain a +4 profane bonus on saving throws to resist compulsion effects.

What a completely normal, sane, and healthy thing to do! As the first of the Demagogues to flee from Hell, Aroggus is EXTREMELY angry at the devils for locking them up in the first place. Angry enough to want revenge on the whole of the diabolic race, as well as the Asura... Angry enough that he hasn’t yet even started getting around to enacting his revenge, instead just constantly thinking about and refining it as if no iteration of suffering is perfect enough to match his fury.

True to form, he wants you to ruminate in your anger rather than doing anything to enact your vengeance, blacking out a page with the names (or just one name) of all who’ve wronged you no matter how petty or insignificant the inconvenience they may have caused. Unfortunately, no two ways about it, you’re going to look insane (in the literal definition of the term) doing this every day, especially if you only have one or two people who’ve wronged you enough to get onto your list. Scrawling their name, front AND back, until the page is filled and then eating it is behavior that will raise eyebrows no matter who you’re adventuring with. Best to keep this one behind closed doors. Make sure you have a glass of activated charcoal after, because all of that ink day after day (unless you write with, I don’t know, berry juice or blood) is going to do amazingly terrible things to your constitution.

The benefit is good. Compulsions are typically Save-Or-Suck effects, so having more Save means less Suck for you later on. It’s useful at any point in your adventure, so I can’t say anything bad about it! My only wish is that it was a little stronger, since some other gods give +4 vs compulsion and charm effects.

Boon 1: Nondetection Boon 2: Forcecage Boon 3: Imprisonment

Nondectection is a good spell for those times when you need to sneak by diviners, hide magic items from scrutiny, avoid the gaze of a Paladin who’s a little too judicious with Detect Evil, or to add another layer of shroud over Invisibility and the like. It’s a spell that’s a pain to prepare every single day, but useful to have when you need it... but you only have one casting of it per day, so using it wisely is paramount. Ironically, it combines well with your own Divination to find out if you’ll even need it later. More often than not you won’t be using it at all except to idly ward yourself when going into town or diving into a dungeon.

Forcecage is a completely different animal, the offensive and defensive applications of the spell simply mind-blowing, to the point that keeping this to just one paragraph to save space is going to take some herculean effort on my part! So, the basics: Forcecage has two versions, both of which halt all movement through them: A 20ft square of force bars that allow spells, projectiles, and line-of-effect through, and a 10ft cube that blocks line-of-effect and all forms of magic and supernatural abilities. A Forcecage is effectively invincible (having Hardness 30 and 20hp/level) and impossible to move, so anyone trapped inside without the ability to teleport is likely to stay there for the spell’s duration. Also, to put it simply, shoving enemies in the cage is the main point, but if you cannot, a 10ft/20ft square is an enormous roadblock to stop up narrow passages with.

Which leaves Imprisonment, a portable hole you can shove all sorts of problems into, which will likely create new problems down the line if the target had anything you needed on them. I recommend knocking out a foe, stripping them of their valuables, and then shoving them into their baby jail for all eternity! With the Freedom spell being the only means to undo Imprisonment (even Wish and Miracle fail), you’ll have no actual way to undo the spell against any target you cast it on for one or two more levels, if at all (depending on the party composition). Make sure to use it only when the villain has no MacGuffins, or is a powerful recurring threat. Imprisonment works on anything and everything capable of failing the Will save (take note, anyone wanting to fight Kaiju, Great Old Ones, or Spawn of Rovagug), which gets a -4 penalty if you know the target’s name and some facts about its life, so famous villains are even more vulnerable to being thrown into the Eternity Marble!

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Barravoclair, Lady of the Final Gasp

Demagogue of the Elderly, Fatalistic Insights, Resurrection Domains: Death, Evil, Healing, Law Subdomains: Murder, Restoration, Resurrection, Undead

Obedience: Practice breath control, holding your breath until you nearly pass out. Benefit: Gain a +4 profane bonus on checks to resist drowning and on saves against inhaled poisons.

A hell of a step down in terms of unhealthiness in terms of Aroggus, and significantly less suspicious, too. Breath control is practiced by people of all stripes, from athletes to explorers to simple monks attempting more profound meditation. While ‘nearly passing out’ is skirting an edge most people won’t approach, it’s not exactly as dangerous for you as, say, inhaling water or eating poison every day. Without any materials needed, the Lady of the Final Gasp is one of the simplest and probably the single cheapest Obedience ritual one could ask for! There is a minor caveat in that races who can’t breathe can’t technically do this Obedience at all, but those aren’t the audience Barravoclair wants anyway.

Unfortunately, the benefit is as weak as the Obedience is easy to do. Drowning is unlikely to come up as a danger unless you’re physically dragged into the water by a monster (which means holding your breath likely isn’t an option anyway), and inhaled poisons are the least common poison type in the game. Against the odd Catoblepas or Green Dragon it will come in handy, but it’s protection from injury poison you really need, which the Lady of the Final Gasp doesn’t provide.

Boon 1: Speak With Dead Boon 2: Resurrection Boon 3: Soul Bind

Alright, let’s face it. Some days, you need Speak With Dead to keep the plot running smoothly. Whether your overzealous DPS kills everyone in the room, your Fireball-lobbing Sorcerer kills everyone in the room, or your summoner’s unchained beasts kill everyone in the room, chances are at some point in your career you’re going to save the party a lot of headaches by being able to pull answers from a corpse. Having Speak With Dead available every day will likely not matter 80% of the time (meaning you can typically use it at your leisure just before going to bed), but much like with Water Breathing and spells like Remove Curse and Neutralize Poison, having it for those 20% of times you need it can keep the wheels spinning and stop unneeded side quests.

... And speaking of side quests and things you’ll need once in a blue moon, Resurrection? For free? Even 1/day? With the hefty cost of 10,000gp for the normal spell, even a well-off party will feel the impact every single time they have to use Rez, but the removal of the cost ups the power level of the spell by a margin so enormous that it doesn’t really matter what Boon you get before or after this one; THIS boon rewards worship of Barravoclair enough to justify putting up with her empty benefit. Even without factoring in the ability to raise party members, you can now curry favor with people of all stripes and demand all forms of insane payments for your ability to raise centuries-old dead at no cost but time... or do your work for free and call in favors at a later date. Do note, however, that you’ll also need someone else on standby to remove the negative levels/stat drain caused by the resurrection process.

I said it didn’t matter what the third Boon was and I stand by it. Unlike with the free Rez above, Soul Bind’s enormous cost still makes its use as anything but a once-per-campaign finisher of an annoying enemy irritating and unfeasible. Spell-likes normally require no components, but Soul Bind operates in a gray area of the rules in that its focus component becomes the subject for the spell, meaning that a DM can very easily and very rightly say you DO require the gemstone whose value must equal or exceed the target’s HD x 1,000. Binding even a simple 5 CR creature requires the tall order of a 5,000gp gemstone, and if you want to use it on a target that’s worthwhile, it gets expensive fast. It’s way cheaper and easier to just hire a Cacodaemon.

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Fharaas, the Seer in Skin

Demagogue of Experience, Murder, and Patterns Domains: Evil, Knowledge, Law, Repose Subdomains: Ancestors, Fear, Memory, Souls

Obedience: Study the interior of a freshly severed limb. Benefit: You are immune to bleed effects that deal 6 damage or less.

This Obedience is deceptively simple for what its implication is. You’d best get yourself a Sack Of Rats or have access to a lot of disposable prisoners (or the Regenerate spell)! But thankfully, there’s some wiggle room in the wording: ‘freshly severed’ means no cheating and using Gentle Repose on the same arm over and over, but it ALSO means you can carry around a single corpse and slowly slice it apart, as the limbs themselves don’t have to be fresh, just freshly cut off for the purpose of the ritual. Also, you can use the bodies of Undead, Constructs, and any other creature that technically has severable limbs! Though Fharaas, the Seer In Skin, will likely punish you if your ritual doesn’t involve the examination of actual flesh.

You’re going to look really weird, is what I’m saying. At least if someone barges in on you, you can claim you’re inspecting them for something or other. Infection, signs of magic, etc, whatever you can come up with to blunt the blow. You can cover yourself moderately well by being a butcher or a hunter in your day job, as the severed limb doesn’t have to be human, or even sapient (hence why I suggest a Sack Of Rats), letting you freely slice up and examine your kills.

Bleed effects are fairly uncommon in the grand scheme of things but are also a pain in the neck to deal with in the middle of battle, so this giving a +4 bonus aga--wait, sorry, hold on no, this isn’t a bonus to saving throws? Or skill checks to heal bleed? It just... Stops them if they deal 6 or less damage? You don’t even have to make a save?

Okay. Okay, alright. So you’re just immune to bleed, then?

More or less, really. There are very few monsters that deal more than d6 bleed damage with their attacks (be warned that higher-level ones can sometimes stack their bleed!), and this ability also works on the rare but dreaded stat bleed, and off the top of my head there are NO monsters that deal more than a d4 dice in stat bleed damage. My main problem is that it doesn’t reduce the bleed damage you take by 6, so taking even 1 more point of bleed damage makes this ability useless. Still, though it’s fairly narrow, being effectively immune to a dangerous and irritating status ailment at level 3 or so (when bleed is at its most threatening) is well worth taking up butchery.

Boon 1: Keen Edge Boon 2: Vision Boon 3: Foresight

Keen Edge is a spell you absolutely want to slap onto any vaguely pirate-y or hoity-toity party member you may have, as cutlasses, rapiers, and scimitars all leap from a dangerous 18~20 critical range to a terrifying 15~20, meaning they threaten to critically strike 1 out of every 4 attacks instead of just once every other fight or so. With a duration of 10 min/level, the enchantment will likely last multiple fights even if you only have it 1/day, but unfortunately it refuses to stack with any crit-boosting enchantments or feats the wielder may already possess, lessening its usefulness as your adventure goes on and your martial party members pick up increasingly fancy gear and pad out their collection of feats. Still, it’s useful for when you get it, and will remain useful for several levels after.

Vision is a whole different beast, and a dangerous one at that. It operates as the Legend Lore spell but vastly accelerated, allowing you to scrape the public consciousness for any information it may have on a specific person, place, or thing. I’ve complained about the general niche uses of Legend Lore before, but Vision grants the information in a much shorter time (a single standard action) at the cost of a potential for failure and a slap of fatigue whether you succeed or not. I don’t like 1/days that do nothing on a failure, but since Vision is purely a downtime spell (unless you need to know the boss’ weakness or info on the Evil Doom Artifact right now immediately), it’s not as much of an impediment to lose out on whatever information it could give you. That being said, the DM will likely have ways for you to do whatever plot-relevant research you need anyway, so Vision is more of a way to speed up the process than anything.

Which leaves Foresight, a spell whose main benefit relies intensely on DM cooperation, as I’ve ranted about here. Mechanically it’s fairly unimpressive, but if the DM reads the spell carefully, they should realize it gives whoever you cast it on a 6-second glance into the future at all times. Whatever horrors befall the victim 6 seconds from now should spring into your mind before they happen, making you the best trap radar on the planet, and the spell’s warnings for the best ways to protect yourself will urge the DM to grant you information about the enemy’s capabilities you may never otherwise know... but what do you expect from 9th level magic? It SHOULD be filling you in with details you’d never figure out!

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Inkariax, the White Death

Demagogue of Preservation, Absolute Cold, and Solitude Domains: Evil, Law, Void, Water Subdomains: Fear, Ice, Isolation, Slavery

Obedience: Inventory your collection of hoarded knickknacks, reciting your unique name for each item as you do Benefit: Gain a +4 profane bonus on saving throws to resist effects that would petrify or paralyze you.

God, finally, someone normal. At worst you’ll look like someone with a few obsessive issues, but at least you won’t look like a menace to society as you lay out your, I dunno, marbles or bone dice or dolls or what have you and make note that they’re still there, cooing to them with names only you know. It’s fitting for Inkariax, of all the Demagogues, to have an Obedience that requires no self-harm, physically or psychologically; unlike all the rest, he was born perfect and doesn’t need to chase after it. Instead, he pursues finding perfection in others, freezing and collecting people and items he believes represent perfection in whatever unusual way he desires that day (having perfect posture, or a perfect scream, or a perfect pair of eyes, etc). Much like him, you’re encouraged to expand a collection of whatever you deem perfect and desirable, which you’re often going to do just over the course of normally adventuring. I’ve yet to see a player character that doesn’t start amassing all sorts of junk in their pockets the moment they get a Bag of Holding or similar.

Indeed, you can just pick up whatever catches your fancy, be it stones, sticks, or severed bits of an enemy, though I’m sure Inkariax will ever-so-slowly raise a disapproving eyebrow if you just pick up any old junk. Make sure to curate your collection now and then! Being able to perform this Obedience with anything you happen to gather is especially helpful if you’re ever separated from your collection (always a danger) and need to start again, but note that each item you gain in your collection must have a completely unique name. That’s only really a danger for especially RP-heavy campaigns, but in such campaigns Worship of the White Death isn’t for everyone who just names all their collected bird feathers Jeffery. Start getting in the habit of stretching out your inventory sheet with names for all your items!

The benefit you get from lovingly counting up all your stolen statuettes and dusty books is resistance to two of the worst status effects in the game. While petrification is relatively rare it typically appears in Save-Or-Suck form, which makes protection against it far more valuable than, say, protection against something like the far more common fatigue or exhaustion. Paralysis is an ailment just short of a death sentence by itself, costing the victim their turn at best and their life at worst, so even a +4 between you and that is something you need to cling to with your entire being.

Boon 1: Sleet Storm Boon 2: Sequester Boon 3: Microcosm

Sleet Storm is a very simple spell with a decent number of functions. Its Long range means that any enemy in your line of sight can potentially be a target, letting you lash out easily at ranged enemies or dangerous casters by creating a 40ft-wide and 20ft-tall area of concealing sleet that’s impossible for any vision to pierce (except the rare and niche Snowsight or Fogcutter Lenses). Anyone inside will have to rely on Tremorsense or Blindsense (though the jury’s out on if the splashing of the sleet would confound those, as well) to navigate it, and 40ft of difficult terrain can feel impossible to clamber through when you start right in the middle of it with no idea which way is the way you need to go. It’s one of the strongest vision-blockers in the game due to its immunity to common tactics that thwart lesser spells (Gust of Wind, True Seeing, etc), forcing enemies to either blow their valuable uses of Dispel Magic or suffer for its entire duration. My only complaint is that you only get it 1/day and that it screws over your party just as hard if you use it incorrectly.

Sequester is as niche a use spell as there ever was for players, requiring a bit of forethought about what or who you’d want to hide with it. The target must be willing or inanimate to be affected, so tricking an enemy via Charm or Dominate into accepting the spell can keep them fresh as a daisy for weeks at a time if you ever have a reason to do such a thing. More often than not you’ll use it to conceal items you seriously don’t want seen or detected, such as a Bag of Holding or similar loaded with your collection of knickknacks or emergency supplies, a particular hostage, an NPC you need to keep alive, or your phylactery if you’re a Lich. If you’re especially sadistic, using it on an item someone else needs and throwing it into a well or a hoard of other objects will keep them occupied for a while. If you’re a more martial character, using it to hide your armor is viable, making it seem as though you’re invincible when enemy blows bounce straight off, or even your weapon to confound your enemies who seem to be taking wounds from an unseen item. Your mime routine will be killer, literally! Just... Just don’t drop the thing, because in the heat of battle you’re never going to find it.

Microcosm is one of the best spells you can hurl into a crowd of commoners or a swarm of foes meant to gum you up instead of actually threaten you. Its 30 HD limit will mean it likely will only strike one or two creatures capable of actually threatening you, but it’s brutal even then. The spell is permanent, trapping your victims in an illusory world in which everything goes right for them even as their bodies starve to death in the waking world. Anything with less than 10 HD is automatically affected with no saving throw, the spell easily mopping up mobs, while anything with 11~15 HD escapes automatically after 10 min... per level you have. On a successful save. There’s Save-Or-Suck, and then there’s the immensely rare Save-And-Suck! No wonder Microcosm is ONLY on the Psychic’s list! Anything with more than 16 HD is unaffected if they succeed their save, but all their allies are likely in an everlasting dreamland now. The big issue is that the HD restriction is way tighter than you may think; creatures, especially at higher levels, usually do NOT have HD matching their CR, but if you’re mainly battling level-appropriate Humanoid or Monstrous Humanoid creatures, Microcosm is fairly reliable in such battles, as those foes typically have HD that roughly matches their CR. But if you’re up against, say, Dragons or Outsiders, good luck bud.

Side note: Microcosm and Sequester used in combination make for excellent ways to start your own morbid collection of living creatures, just like your icy master! Just make sure you have some non-Divination means of seeing them, as Sequester blocks even True Sight.

#Pathfinder #dungeons and dragons #Demigod Dossier #Spiritual Spotlight #Sinister Spotlight

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player-1 · 4 years ago

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Anyone who’s been in the TMA fandom (or those who understand the bare minimum of the story) know damn well that whatever was going on with Michael D. Stortion and Gabriel/Worker-of-Clay was not just a simple Avatar/Entity partnership. No, in the twisted timeline of the Spiral itself, the Armageddon arms-race pales in comparison to the romantic tragedy subplot those two had long before Jon and Martin were in the picture.

(This is also going to be a long one, and with some MAG 101 spoilers, so buckle on in...)

Here’s what I mean:

Gabriel (or in this case, Gabe) works with Neil Lagorio (Web aligned special-effects dude) in the mid 1900′s on their first movie The Labyrinth of the Minotaur. Unfortunately for him, Gabe quits in 1972 just as the movie was released.

Not much is known of this time after 1972 up until the dreaded sculpting class in 2004. Speculation-wise, Gabriel might have been corrupted by the Flesh during his movie-making times or earlier before he came into contact with the Spiral.

Reasons: -The Spiral connects with the unraveling of reality, question one’s sanity and eventually “spiraling” into insanity. -The Flesh, in its literal sense, connects to the fear of people or animals being killed for meat; even the appearance of flesh/bone being twisted, bent, or butchered. But it can also connect on a emotional level, such as being viewed weaker than others, mostly relating to a person’s body image. That’s also the reason why the nature of his death is completely unlike the Spiral simply letting him fade out of reality. -Gabriel displays more Flesh-like qualities in his appearance and work up until the end of MAG 126. He doesn’t want people to judge him by appearance alone (even if his entire body is made up of clay) but he makes up for it with his unassuming personality and amazing talent. In a literal sense, he wants to mold himself into the kind of person that gets praised for his clay-making abilities, not just from his creations alone.

[Enter Ｔｈｅ　Ｄｉｓｔｏｒｔｉｏｎ: Stage Left] Of course, while there’s no evidence on how, when or why the Distortion would target him specifically, but there is one thing. Compared to all the other Spiral avatars and fear-aligned creatures, they all used to be humans in the past. The Spiral by nature is to cast aside their humanity and submit to the nature of insanity. But since most of the Spiral avatars either faded out of existence or just refused to do anything ritual-wise, how was it supposed to create a new world if all they ever do is destroy? It adopts an artist, of course. There’s nothing more chaotic than the struggles of a budding sculptor such as himself. But while that may be a convincing argument for the Spiral to get Gabriel to join the Dark Side, there could be more to convince him that it’s worth following the unknowable being of delusions. Long story short, there was no reason for Gabriel to judge himself so poorly if he knew how to reshape the world to how he sees fit. it would convince him that, like the archangel he’s named after, he could show the world the coming future; twisting the laws of reality so that there’s no room to judge how something should be right or wrong, imaginary or real. As if they were said from the Lord himself, Gabriel heard the Distortion’s tell him about a new world and finally found inspiration in them.

Then comes the sculpting class. It’s worth noting that, even with the angel symbolism for Michael and Gabriel, it could be implied that Gabriel is also a goody-two-shoes Christian boy who regularly attends church, as evidence of Michael having knowledge about Mass in MAG 20, assisting the Flesh in driving Father Edwin to cannibalism (so the Flesh and Spiral have an interesting partnership, huh?). Besides that, this is where Gabriel takes the spotlight. From Deborah’s point of view, he was a strange little man from the beginning; eyes always jutted out of his face, appearing right in someone’s personal space and disappearing just as fast, and of course, his works of clay. (Also a random headcanon just because: Gabriel may be afraid of water, either because his entire body being made of clay, and since you need water to help shape the material, he does not want to get it melded into his own flesh. Could also be the reason why he has short and greasy hair, cause he would practically melt into a puddle if he was unfortunate enough to get wet.) And apart from Deborah and her friends’ growing discomfort over Gabriel in general, he’s just vibing in the back of the class, trying to make a shape for the unknowable form of the Distortion. And the second Deborah inadvertently gives him a break from his artist’s block, he quite literally takes control of the class; switching over the biweekly schedule it was before into every week, and even manipulating the space of the classroom to further support his artistic needs.

“Ray told us the lesson was ‘faces.’ I put my hand up to say that sculpting faces was probably a bit advanced for where we were in the course, but he shook his head, and said that we were… a lot more talented than we thought. He said the key was that faces were twisted. All faces were twisted on the inside, and all you had to do was reach into the deepest part of yourself and put that twisted on the outside of the clay, and as soon as you can scream you’ll have your own face staring back at you.” (MAG 126)

This is also the key to the Spiral itself. With Gabriel’s assistance, he will be able to let the spiral to insanity move in reverse, create the physical manifestation of that fear instead of letting it collapse and destroy itself. And in that lesson as well, Gabriel finally creates a fitting image of the Distortion...A door, the physical entrance to insanity itself.

Then comes the final stretch in Sannikov Land, the nonexistent island that was said to exist between the years 2009 and 2011. And as Michael D. Stortion explains in MAG 101, was the perfect place for their ritual, The Great Twisting. After everything Gabriel had done to appease his good “friend”, The Distortion seemed extremely invested in the Worker of Clay at that point. Nevermind the fact that its telling Jon how its identity was stolen away from Michael Shelley by merging with the Distortion, but there’s more to this origin story.

“Michael was protective of the frail old woman he believed her to be. So… so delicate, so forgetful, yet gently wise. He cared for her. He trusted her. And she fed him to me. She made him to destroy our transcendence. And she did not hesitate.” “And it was me they sought to stop. Me and the others of It-Is-Not-What-It-Is. Our Great Twisting. The-Worker-of-Clay had laboured for decades on that contorted, impossible edifice of doors… and stairs… and falsehoods… and smiles. A thousand staring morsels stood, and not one of them believed themselves sane to look upon it. And in the centre, the door that would open to all the places that were never there, was me.“ “Perhaps I should have realised what was happening; seen those two lonely figures approaching me, but I cannot tell you the existential joys of truly… becoming. Of an entireness finally crossing the threshold into your self. So ecstatic was my completeness, I did not even hear my own door creak open.“ “Even sharper than the joy of becoming is the agony of being opened and remade. To have your who torn bloody from your what, and another crudely lashed into its place. To become Michael. And to do so at such a crucial point in our Twisting, in our becoming, well of course it destroyed it. The impossible altar collapsed. The-Worker-of-Clay tore out his veins to dissolve himself in crimson mud. The others of us were cast to all the places that aren’t; some have still not found their way out again...My very existence tied to my pointlessness. Wearing my failure as the very fabric of my being. Reduced once again to feeding on the unsuspecting and confused. That is who I am.“ (MAG 101)

Even if all of this was to explain how the Distortion became the being it is in the series, it’s easy to see how overjoyed it was during the ritual. All that the Spiral ever did was bring the sense of unreality and paranoia unto people for ages, only breaking down the mind until they eventually spiral into oblivion. It wanted to be something, it wanted to make something twisted and nonsensical from the world, to shape the world itself to the nature of insanity. And after all that time, no matter how many avatars it had in its control, Gabriel was the only one who began creating the ritual. Even if it was for an ulterior motive, The Distortion was pretty giddy as Gabriel worked for years on end to create the meaning of insanity; to create something that the Distortion saw as the perfect vessel for itself. And even as it was explaining it, with all these feelings of joy and ecstasy and very human thoughts and emotions, this was before it was forced to become Michael. So much for not being bound by human nature, huh? But it’s pretty ironic that, as the embodiment of delusions, insanity and lies, it never considered the idea of having an avatar that could make something out of that chaos. Even if the Distortion was explaining how Michael-not-Michael Shelley came into being, it also can be interpreted as Michael just yearning for his best Avatar so far. So instead of “I’m going to tell you my entire backstory.”, it’s more like “I’m going to tell you how a nosy old woman and her idiotic assistant ruined my chances to be with my Avatar of the Decade who may or may not be my boyfriend.”

In conclusion, Gabriel AKA The Worker of Clay AKA Igor with an art degree became the Hands of the Spiral because the nonbinary embodiment of delusion (who is also a door) gave a miserable struggling artist a shot of self-confidence (and a shot out of the Flesh’s control), eventually becoming its #1 Boyfriend Avatar of all time, and is the only person that would make the “hates gender and existence itself” Distortion yearn for years after his tragic death.

Takes notes people, this is what peak performance looks like.

#not kh #tma #the magnus archives #tma spoilers #tma michael #tma gabriel #tma michael shelley #gay shit #shitpost #rant post #text post

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tackyink · 4 years ago

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#tacky i want to hear your dig site anecdote ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE @cinnamonroyalty

In fact you’re going to receive way more than you bargained for because I keep remembering funny shit from that excavation where a dead person’s tooth fell in my hand.

It’s a summer from 10 years ago, back when I only hated the sunlight but it wasn’t trying to kill me yet. Yours truly and one of her best friends are trying to get our degrees and we sign up for an easy class: give up two weeks of your summer vacation to go to the dig site where of the uni’s professors is a director and get credit with top marks attached to it. Not many people do it, but we like archaeology and are desperate to finish our degrees ASAP because:

It’s our fourth year and we're extremely burnt out. We need out.

Government only gives money to poor people if they’re overachievers and long story short, I need to take that class or risk never finishing the degree.

First order of business is getting there, and public transportation isn’t an option. We don’t have cars and can’t drive, so we ask my parents to give us a ride to the village where the dig site is and drop us off.

The afternoon before the trip, a classmate that I haven’t seen in a year because he’d been spirited away to France by the Erasmus program calls, and says he saw my name and friend’s on the list of guinea pigs students for the class, and asks how we’re going to make the trip. Turns out he just returned to our country the night before and doesn’t have any means to get to Bumfuck, Nowhere, so we become the means. I am okay with this because we actually met in another excavation a year prior and he’s great.

During the trip, he tells us that this dig site has a bad reputation in archaeologist circles because supposedly it’s been investigated to hell and back for 30 years. It’s exhausted, but the director keeps milking it to get research funding.

The dig site in question has a history of human presence from pre-Roman times to sometime in the Middle Ages. The Medieval section is the one you can see in the pic of the post I linked above. The Iberian part is directly below that image and is just a field with no visible structures.

There’s only a handful of us plus the director when we get to the village, and she shows us the way to the dig site and gives us leaflets and a little introduction, telling us that under the remains of the church we see there’s an Iberian temple.

I need you to know that, at least at that point in time (it’s been ten years, but I don’t think this has changed), no one has ever been able to locate an Iberian temple. Ever. We don’t know how they looked like, if they were even constructions or just natural sites. Nothing.

Great Guy knows this because he has worked in Iberian dig sites several times and ancient history is his jam. Great Guy is also right behind the director as he hears her declaration, and he looks up from his leaflet to look at friend and I straight in the eyes, and lifts one single, dramatic eyebrow with incredulity. I am in awe of how much a lone arch of hair can convey.

The waves of skepticism radiating from him must’ve been so strong that they hit the director square in the back and she turns around at the speed of light to reassure him in particular that it is true that there’s a temple there, and the three of us are very spooked for the remainder of our stay because how the fuck did she do that.

Not satisfied with that, the director also says that Hannibal Barca was there on his way to cross the Pyrenees, so any inkling of respect we might had had towards her is gone with the wind.

Fast forward a few days and we choose to work on the Iberian silos instead of the Medieval area because silos are where the interesting stuff pops up. This proves to be a mistake for the most part. There’s only sun, very dry clay-like dirt, vicious insects, and very soon we learn that not only the staff, but also this place is indeed a joke for a variety of reasons that would warrant a different post. We’re bored and miserable and Great Guy starts to recount the many practical jokes you can play on newbies at a dig site, such as the infamous trick of taking a bristle from a broom, dropping it near your victim, and telling them when they find it that that’s a hair from one of Hannibal’s elephants and this is a huge discovery.

We laugh, but we can’t do that. The director’s underling is our supervisor and of all the human senses he sadly skipped class the day God distributed humor. No whacky hijinks under his watchful eye. UNLESS...

There is another classic. Great Guy steps to the side with a basket full of dirt and water and starts molding something out of it.

It is immediately clear that we’re looking at an impressively sized dick, so we all laugh because we’re all twenty and about to die of sunstroke.

And here’s the plan: we’re going to let it dry and, on the last day of the excavation, place it inside one of the silos and cover it with a loose coat of dirt so the next person that works on it finds it.

We get invested in the joke. We aren’t even going to see the results, but we don’t care. Just imagining the reaction of the staff if they find it is enough. We check every day, several times a day, that the dick is still there and hardening to fulfill its final purpose and no this wasn’t supposed to be a double entendre it’s just what clay does in the sun.

Still, we want to leave our signature, and we don’t want it to be mistaken for an actual artifact. It's an absurdly long shot, but the people working there are so weird that we don’t want to risk it. In another stroke of hilarity, we decide to make our own Rosetta Stone and to leave no doubt as to what its future discoverer will be looking at, we make two inscriptions on the dick: one in Latin, and another in Greek.

The first says “PHALLVS” - pretty self-explanatory

The second says “πολλων“ - which is an actual Greek word, but it’s also the phonetic transcription of the Spanish word “pollón,” which means “big cock.”

We never knew if they found it, but it’s nice to believe.

#forgive me for the typos but it's late and I'm not double checking this #when tacky was getting her degree

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7yearsofdele · 4 years ago

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Okay, so here’s what I thought:

The main thing is that this is not its greatest season. I did not enjoy it for the majority and dare I say, I was bored. I only started to become invested around Episode 8. With the exception of the lockdown episode. That was when they finally hit on something good and really it should have been a season long arc. That being said, I really liked the show generally. And I’m not going to pretend I’m not a little sad it’s over.

The lockdown episode was one of my favourites. It was disturbing as fuck. But it really brought to light the fact that Americans think that shit is normal and that’s not okay. I liked the finale as well. Tony and Clay driving off the car as the final scene is a really good way to end it.

The characters:

Clay: Absolutely not surprised the kid had a mental breakdown. The main surprise is that it took so long. But I think Clay has done a lot right and I think he has tried to do the right thing most of the time. He’s loved and lost a lot. And I cried my eyes out when he lost Justin. He’s a decent guy you know and he did deserve to have a bright future in the end.

Jessica: I’ve always been fairly neutral towards her and this season didn’t change that. I appreciate everything she stands for and it’s a great cause and she’s been through things that no-one should ever have to deal with. That’s literally all I have to say though. I don’t really have any other thoughts on her.

Alex: Probably my second favourite character of the season. He’s come so far since he was that kid who shot himself in the head. He’s finally happy to be alive and that’s a beautiful thing to witness. I know this isn’t a popular opinion, but I actually prefer him with Charlie than Winston. Winston was using him, whether he ended up falling in love with Alex or not. Look, Alex is a fucking sweetheart and he deserves the happiness he found.

Tony: My angel. My favourite. The only one who means anything to me. He’s done it. He’s made a future for himself. He’s found something he’s good at. He’s found love. He’s found a life. There is absolutely no-one who deserves it more. Also, bleach blonde is a good look for him. So was the green at prom. Also, gay pride at prom 🌈 Top quality content. Not enough of him though. Then again, there’ll never be enough Tony for me.

Zach: Not entirely sure what happened to him this season. He just kind of gave up? And there was never really an explanation as to why? He just kinda turned up drunk one time and that was it. Suddenly he’s a drunk and a drug user and bringing hookers to prom. Then just as suddenly he’s getting a job offer, turning his life around and graduating. Even though his grades were so bad at one point he would have to repeat the year. I like Zach, I always have. He’s always been a decent guy and I am glad he worked it out in the end. His arc just didn’t really make tons of sense.

Justin: Another character I’m pretty neutral towards. Are we all forgetting he didn’t do anything when he saw Bryce raping Hannah? However, I can appreciate the progress he made and he obviously went through a lot in the aftermath. Becoming a junkie and having sex with men for money. He did good work pulling himself out of that situation. He absolutely did not deserve to end up the way he did and he should have survived. He had worked so hard and it feels wrong that his past is what killed him. It’s not a good message. Especially having him die with AIDS. A disease that is no longer a death sentence the way it used to be. He didn’t really have much of an arc this season either, at least not a new one. Relapse, recovery, Jessica, Clay. Response, recovery, Jessica, Clay. He’s more than that, but I don’t think they really showed that this season.

Charlie: AKA cookies. Fucking sweetheart. Has probably never done anything wrong in his life ever. Has amazing taste in guys. That pretty much sums him up I think.

Ani: Hated her last season. The whole Bryce thing. Yikes. However, this season was an improvement. While I’ll never like her, girls supporting girls is something to get behind. And she was a great support for Jessica. Plus, she finally spoke to Jessica about what happened with Bryce, which was a nice conversation. I think my main issue with her is that I’ve never really seen how she fits in. She ended up being a good friend though.

Diego: I don’t get where his vendetta came from. I don’t think he has a personality either. He could have had a great police and racism arc, but they never followed through. He was a dick during the lockdown episode too. You think you’re fighting off a shooter with a baseball bar? Alright buddy. Good luck to you.

Tyler: Didn’t do anything wrong all season, despite everyone obviously thinking he did. Not that they didn’t have a good reason of course. They did see him meeting a gun dealer and find the papers in his bag. Hearing him talk about why someone would want to shoot up a school was a really fascinating thing to hear. It was a really good insight into what he was thinking that night. Also, he’s a really talented photographer and he deserves to go to a good school where he can be talented without any of the shit.

Winston: One minute Alex is his true love, one minute Monty is his true love. So who does Winston really love? Did we ever even see the evidence he supposedly has? Apart from Alex confessing obviously. Anyway, he didn’t really need to be there. Diego worked most of it out anyway.

The Parents: All were good. In the case of Alex’s and Charlie’s, accepting. I don’t actually think there was a bad parent was there? I mean, I hated that they were fucking stalking their own children. But I suppose you can’t really blame them considering everything that has happened. They did it for the right reasons.

#13rw #13 reasons why #13rw spoilers

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inbarfink · 5 years ago

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Every Angel was created with a Purpose. When She brought them into being, she first uttered their Name, and than another word, a command, to indicate their Purpose.

People who know Aziraphale nowadays might be suprised to learn that the second word he heard after ‘Aziraphale’ was ‘Fight’.

The second word Crowley heard, and the first one he remembers (the Angelic Names of the Fallen have been throughly erased from existence and memory), was ‘Create’.

People who know Aziraphale nowdays might also be suprised that he used to be quite good at his Purpose. Well, there wasn’t a lot to Fight back than. Back then all the existed was Heaven and other Angels, and Her, of course. Aziraphale sometimes wondered why have soliders if anyone who existed worked together for the glory of the Lord, but I guess you can never be too sure? Most of what he did was train, or march, or try and make up Neat Tricks to do with his sword to entertain himself (with the same enthusiam and also general talent he later had for human Stage Magic. Thankfully, that was before any Angel had being assinged a corporeal body, so injuries were minimal).

Crowley (or rather the Nameless-Angel-Who-Would-Be-Crowley-One-Day) was excellent at his job. He was focused on stars, of course. The Alpha Centauri project was what he spent most of his Angelic Days on. (Although much, much later, Crowley suspected being turned into a Serpent was some petty ironic punishment about a snide comment he made passing by the Living Creatures Design Department. He wouldn’t put this sort of thing past Her).

Than came the Great War, and the Fall, and that changed everything for both of them.

Suddenly, ‘Fight’ was no longer an abstract, distant idea to Aziraphale. Suddenly, he and all of his platoon were in the front line of a new, terrible thing called a War. It was horrible. The only way to destroy an Angel’s being, Hellfire, was not created yet (nothing so unholy was created yet) but does it make better or worse when all of this hacking of limbs and holy fire thing is endless? A lot of Angels found that the Great War has made them harder and tougher, espacially the ones not created to Fight. But Aziraphale just found himself growing softer at the sight of all of the horrors of what fighting truly entailed. He discovered that he doesn’t want to hurt people, that he doesn’t want people to suffer, and that he doesn’t like to suffer himself. When the war was over he felt much, much older, even though Angels have no concept of aging.

All Demons have a complicated relationship with their previous Purpose, that’s a given. But if you’re a Demon who’s been previously commanded to Fight or to Lead or to Plan, it’s.... not impossible to find something to do in the newly-formed Armies of Hell. For those who have being told to Create, the situation is a bit more complicated. Demons are not supposed to Create anything. A lot of them decided to dedicate themselves to Destroying instead, as a big fat Fuck You to God. Now, Crowley’s all about giving God a big fat Fuck You in *general* but... he doesn’t like to Destroy, he still likes to Create. If you get him in a Mood, he’d tell you Heaven was all full of boring bastards and that there’s nothing he misses up there and he doesn’t regret Falling. But the truth is... he does miss being able to Create by God’s side, he really does.

His Name might’ve been taken away, but the nebula he designed was not. That’s his little cold comfort.

When the Angels were created, none of them were given a Purpose like the sort of job Crowley and Aziraphale ended up getting on Earth. God never told any Angel ‘Yeah, Guide but also Protect and Teach do some Blessings and Healings and maybe a tiny bit of Fighting’, and so there wasn’t any Angel or Demon that was right for that kinda job. Some might say it’s because Angels were created before the World and so there was no need for ‘Secret Earth Agents’ Angels, but also God created Warrior Angels before there was anyone to Fight so you know.... it’s all very ineffable.

Heaven and Hell could send temporary agents here and there for spesific jobs, relay a message from God, lay a curse on this spesific person, apparently one of the patriarchs of the Chosen People need someone to wrestle??? But when it comes to someone they can stick on Earth on a permanent basis and just... trust they could nudge things in their direction? Who would they send?

Well, Heaven had Aziraphale, an Angel who is supposed to Fight and yet is quite unfound of waving shiny bits of metal around and hurting people. And who’s favorite pick for a corporeal body was short and chubby and pleasantly unthreatning.

So, you know what? That job is... kinda like Fighting against the forces of evil, but you don’t use a sword (most of the times), you use words and guidence and maybe some miracles - that’s close enough, right? Better than having a useless Angel sitting around in Heaven thinking about the horrors of war or whatever, so down you go, Aziraphale! You got the job!

And Hell had Crowley, who didn’t want to Destroy, but found out he was pretty good at Corrupting. The difference between Creating something and twisting it into something different was pretty blurry. Every pot was once a mere piece of clay. And Hell is not short on corruptors and tempters, but Crowley had a real talent for it, and if it’s the closest he’s ever gonna get to hanging the stars again....... he’s gonna take it.

Aziraphale noticed at some point, that although Crowley sold him on the Arrangement as a way to generally minimize work, there’s a certain type of projects the demon is actually passionate about doing. Where Crowley invoke the Arrangement not to say “Hey, how about you take over this temptation job for me and I’ll owe you one?” or “Look, it’s gonna be easier if we just TOLD Head Office that we faced each other in Battle and scared the other one away, right? I know how much you hate to do battle”, but rather “Manchester is going to be MY city, Angel! I’ve got big plans for it! So you don’t get to touch my project and in return... I won’t touch Shropshire for a while, how’s that sound?”. Times where, even if he’s got no ideological stake in Hell, he is still invested in his project working right. He’s got a real passion for them All of those projects have been about... Creating something; like the M25, Reality TV, or Furbies.

It takes a long, long time before Crowley opens up to Aziraphale about his life before he Fell. It doesn’t come as a big suprise to the Angel that the Demon was told to Create, even if he wasn’t actively TRYING to figure it out before. He didn’t know what to say, save for the fact that his Heavenly creations were beautiful, he’s going to remember every star Crowley put into place and cherish it as the work of his beloved serpetn, even if his name was Erased from it.

Next time Aziraphale sees a map of the M25, he thinks about Crowley moving marker pegs in muddy, wet fields and wonders about how similar it is to painting a constellations in the night sky

#Good Omens #aziraphale #Crowley #crowley good omens #ineffable husbands

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goblin-gardens · 6 years ago

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Gob Or Not? An Extremely Scientific Examination Of The Mighty Nein

A couple weeks ago, as an attempt to lure my friend Grim into Critical Role, I made a Goblin Inventory of the M9. this post is an updated survey of the team, slightly reformatted, mostly to be more accurate to my current understanding of the characters (as of Episode 58) and also funnier.

Abstract:

The goals of the initial report were two-fold. First, to examine the differences between being a member of the goblin species and Being Goblin, and second to determine whether Nott The Brave was truly the most Goblin of the group. The first findings showed that Nott scored a 40 out of 77 on the Goblin Scale, not an especially high score and far from the highest in the group. While the conclusions of this survey are not wildly different, the key to Science is repeating your experiments and coming up with not-exactly-identical findings, and doing this roughly a billion times and then you can say that you’re Probably Right (Most Of The Time).

The Goblin Quotient is determined by quantifying, on a scale of 0-11, how fully a person embodies each of the 7 Habits Of Highly Effective Goblins. These are, 1) Collection Of Crap, 2) Chaos, 3) Minionhood, 4) Gooey Center, 5) Laser Pointer Focus, 6) Furious Devotion, and 7) Hideous Cackling.

the full text of this very serious academic paper is under the cut and not behind a paywall.

1) Collection Of Crap

Top scorer, Caleb Widogast As a wizard, Caleb has purposefully immersed himself in Collecting. He is constantly filling his pockets with spell components including, but by no means limited to, sulfur, molasses, honeycomb, bits of copper wire, and literal bat shit. it’s all just. in his pockets. being slimy. Other Caleb Collections include: Books, Paper, Friends, Magic, and Pain. unfortunately, he still has not collected a fantasy therapist to help him KonMari some of it into healthier boxes. Nott’s new form has upped her Collecting habits, but this is a fundamental hobby of Veth’s. This quells some uncertainty about how much of this is truly Her. turns out, lots! (Runners up: Jester, with the animals and haversack of holding, Nott, with the buttons. Special mention: Fjord, with his balls.) Lowest Scorer, Yasha: a 6 of 11 ain’t shabby, but it’s not much compared to the others. This might be due to her having had less screen time, but she does tend to travel light.

Trait The Second) Chaos.

Top scorer, Jester Lavorre: The M9 are a pretty Chaotic group, but Jester is the only one who’s built a religion out of chaos. She’s a high priestess of drawing dicks on things. Her magic powers come from a divine mandate to fuck shit up. Pets (to which she has added Yarnball) up the chaos meter, and their virtually indestructible plot armor means they’re not going anywhere execpt maybe home wth Yeza. In general, Jester’s childhood in the Lavish Chateau was sort of like a pandora’s jack in the box getting wound tighter and tighter and tighter past all physical comprehension, and though the lid has been lifted, the spring is only just starting to sproing. we haven’t even reached the Zenith yet! After seeing some more of Veth and Yeza, it’s clear they’re not the most sedate of couples. Some eyebrows have definitely gotten singed in the Brenatto lab. However, since they aren’t the ones who burned it to the ground, a bit of Safe Science Techniques have to at least be assumed. (Runner up: Molly, with the egg dick incident) Lowest scorer, Beau: She’s not settling down, but she is… settling. Beau does her share of the check-ins, and has made the highest number of Agreements To Not Be Assholes Together. She might be in the running for mom friend??

C) Minionhood.

Top scorer, Fjord “No-Name” Swordvjore. In CR, goblins are not often leaders. They will work together to target weaker and easy opponents, but aren’t typically masterminds. They aren’t prone to individual heroism and rarely, if ever, go out of their way to save a friend. In their villages, little value is placed on familial relationships or education, they’re not big team players, and everyone has a terrible sense of humor. So how does Fjord factor into this? By showing the other side of the coin, like how tactics that don’t rely on using yourself as canon fodder are more successful, or like how the power of friendship and diverse skill sets makes your team stronger. Nott is not much of a follower, though she is an aggressive supporter. Though both these green kids were outcasts when they were younger, finding love with Yeza, stating a family and running a business has given Veth a strong sense of what she wants, and it’s not to be a leader or a follower. (runners up: Caduceus Clay, committed WildMinion and Jester, Travelerite) Lowest scorer, Caleb Widogast. He’s had his brush with Minionhood and the further and safer from it he feels, the more he wants revenge.

Four) Gooey Center Top scorer, Yasha Nydoorin. The Gooey Center is protected by a spiky, brittle, intimidating, crunchy, and/or off putting exterior. Yasha is our big, scary, tenderhearted wlw. our giant soft-hearted, angelic, full-of-boiling-murderous-rage, lightning-punching, funeral-not-having runaway who loves her wife and makes us cry. she shaves her arms with her sword. she uses books in non-traditional ways. she vanishes into the night sometimes in a very mysterious and tragic manner. she is our most Romantic player character, and she is super ripped and super queer, which are all aspirational goblin qualities. in practice, most goblins connect with their gooey center by being squished by someone like Yasha, maybe with a giant hammer. Nott does more to protect others’ feelings than her own, really. Poking at her sore spots makes her stab at yours, but she’s pretty up front about how she feels. When actually fighting, she’s proven to be pretty adept at not being hit. (runners up: Caleb, glass canon with a very crunchy exterior, Fjord, known horc twunk, Caducues, mystery boy, and Molly, who rudely showed us just how how close that center can be to the surface) Lowest scorer: Nott! She’s actually…. Relatively well adjusted? Has emotional intelligence?

5️⃣) Laser Pointer Focus Top scorer: Caduceus Clay. Related to Minionhood, this is the aspect of Goblinry that the leader uses to achieve goals. the dogged focus of a True Goblin is powerful and direct, but can be redirected with the proper pressure or leadership, or lost when a cause or leader is not compelling enough or doesn’t provide adequate payment. the Laser Pointer Focus has an investigatory aspect as well, gathering little bits of info from every which way in moments, though the information gathered is rarely put to use immediately. Caduceus, who sees all but doesn’t always act on it, and is content to support the Nein and follow their meandering path to his goal, checks many of these boxes. Nott knows exactly what she wants in life, which is her old life. She knows how to get it, which is to keep Caleb alive until he can learn a powerful enough spell. The difference between her pursuit of her goal and Caduceus’s lies in the fact that this isn’t a Hero’s Quest for her, with no Tests of Character or Symbolic Goals set or arbitrated by an outside force. (runners up: Fjord, spiritually chasing a laser pointer at all times, Jester, whose laser pointer always points at chaos. Special mention: Frumpkin) Lowest scorer: Beau. Maybe she’s still figuring out what her driving forces are. She knows what they aren’t, but Not Being The Same Type Of Shitty As My Dad isn’t a full thesis. She’s dedicated to protecting her friends, but until we see exactly what it is that she defines herself in opposition to (ie. get that sweet sweet Loregard) her intentions might remain a bit fuzzy around the edges.

VI) Furious Devotion Top scorer: Beauregard Lionett. Also going hand in hand with Minionhood (Minionhood has two hands), this is the trait that makes goblins actually willing to die in battle against adventurers and town guards and shit. It doesn’t require any comfort with or willingness to follow authority, it’s the more feral side of love that is reigned in by Minionhood in true Goblins. this is the part of the Goblin that drives the Collecting of Crap because it genuinely loves all the shit it finds. Beau is a prime example of this trait, especially because as she gets more and more invested in a person or ideal, her willingness to let go, even in the face of likely death, decreases dramatically. see episode 55 for reference, among others. she also has a rather Goblinish inability to effectively communicate the depths of her feelings, though this is sort of an aspect of her defense of her Gooey Center and something she’s actively working on. Now here’s something Nott’s got. So much love. More love than can be contained by one family. Angry love, protective love, throw-all-the-dishes-on-the-floor-in-a-pile love. Draw the dragon’s attention so her friend she’s had for less than a day can get away love. She can and will sacrifice herself for the people she cares about. (runners up: Nott, whomst loves, Yasha, very good at using the Fury to pursue the Devotion, Jester, whose love is so powerful it brings people back from the dead, and Caleb, even less able to discuss his feelings than Beau) Lowest scorer: Fjord. This does NOT mean he doesn’t love his friends, or that he’s not sometimes very angry, but they aren’t connected. He’s still keeping everyone at arm’s length, tbh. Again, this is something that will be easier to judge with more backstory.

and finally 7) Hideous Cackling Top Score: Mollymauk Tealeaf. This is what a Goblin does when surveying their Collection of Crap and the Chaos they have caused. This is how they communicate with fellow Minions in the know, how they react to seeing someone else’s Gooey Center, to catching the Laser Pointer. This is the easiest way to express their feelings of Devotion. The Hideous Cackle of a True Goblin is un-selfconscious and entirely for the benefit of the Cackler. Cackling Hideously is an act of self love. You can find your goblin group by listening to the Discordant Chorus made by Cackling together, and when you’re all reveling in the cacophony, there you are. It’s a little hedonistic and a little punk and a little queer, disregarding conventional expectations of beauty or family or polite behavior, and all about diving deep into the things that you are and the things that make you happy. An extremely Molly philosophy, truth be told. Nott Cackles, sometimes. More since Yeza is back. Unclear whether this arc ending in safe Brenatto Boys will leave her more prone to Cackling, or if she’ll miss them and be too sad :( (runner up: Jester, gleeful agent of chaos) Lowest scorers: Caleb and Fjord. Part of their higher charisma is being careful with their words and presentation. A truly Hideous Cackle doesn’t have time to be self conscious.

And now, the rankings themselves!

Nott The Brave Collection of Crap– So. Many. Buttons. 10/11 Chaos– FLUFFERNUTTERRRRRRRRRR! 8/11 Minionhood– Eh. She’s more of a supporter than a follower. 3/11 Gooey Center– She’s not particularly secretive about her feelings or opinions 4/11 Laser Pointer Focus– Her main goals are all inwardly motivated and have not changed during the campaign. 3/11 Furious Devotion– Her love is extremely powerful. 10/11 Hideous Cackling– Reunited with her husband, she has felt freer to Cackle, she also seems to appreciate her current job a lot 6/11 total score: 44/77

Caleb Collection of Crap– keeps everything in his pockets except for his cat, which is in his heart. 11/11 Chaos– Absolutely creates it, and is starting to revel in it. 6/11 Minionhood– Formerly a Minion, he is now hellbent on the destruction of the System. Good for him. 0/11 Gooey Center– Easily smashed by any large or medium-sized hammer, but maintains staunch denial of inner Gooeyness. 8/11 Laser Pointer Focus– Has goal, will travel. Difficult to redirect. 5/11 Furious Devotion– Slow to accept his own devotion, but very committed once he has. 10/11 Hideous Cackling– Having friends and talking about his feelings is good for him. He’s getting better at this. 3/11 total score: 43/77

Yasha Collection of Crap– A whole book of pressed flowers! 6/11 Chaos– She doesn’t really revel in it :/. 5/11 Minionhood-- Serves a higher power and follows along the decisions of others in the group, even when not super enthused about them, like going to Xhorhas. 8/11 Gooey Center– All the Gooeyer for being well protected, and though her emotional walls are not the most formidable in the party, the amount of protected feeling was unexpected 11/11 Laser Pointer Focus– Loyal to two guides, the Stormlord and the M9, though the Stormlord can pull her easily away from the group. 9/11 Furious Devotion– Very very angry. 10/11 Hideous Cackling– Could stand to be a bit more open about it. 4/11 Total score: 53/77

Fjord Collection of Crap– Collection is limited in scope and volume, but high in Strangeness. 8/11 Chaos– a troublemaker, for sure and certain. 7/11 Minionhood– Literally A Minion right now, summons demonic minions on occasion. 11/11 Gooey Center– Desperately wants somebody, anybody, to tell him he’s doing a Good Job. Adamantly refuses to admit that. 8/11 Laser Pointer Focus– this man cannot resist pushing buttons, be they physical, emotional, or likely to end the word. 10/11 Furious Devotion– He is angry, but it’s not focused. To get more points here, he needs to be less angry at himself. 3/11 Hideous Cackling– too self conscious! loosen up! needs to Cackle in his own voice. 3/11 total score: 50/77

Beau Collection of Crap– Wants to know everything, is building a family. Some points lost for minimalist monk aesthetic. 8/11 Chaos– Aspiring member of Nott the Best Detective Agency, punches people to learn about them. BUT she is apparently a Voice Of Reason, which makes it harder. 4/11 Minionhood– would destroy me for even suggesting it. 1/11 Gooey Center– just! wants! everyone! to! get! along! 7/11 Laser Pointer Focus– Is becoming a moral compass? 2/11 Furious Devotion– JUST! WANTS! EVERYONE! TO! GET! ALONG! 11/11 Hideous Cackling– Tries too hard to be cool. Like yeah, she is cool, but she tries too hard to make sure people know. 5/11 total score: 38/77

Molly Collection of Crap– Behold the coat. 8/11 Chaos– He has that certain je ne se quois. 10/11 Minionhood– The Moonweaver in not a fan of her followers following anyone’s orders. also he has his own minions and doesn’t want them 3/11 Gooey Center-- Loves openly and without reservation. and also…………………… 8/11 Laser Pointer Focus– Molly’s focus is loving his friends and knowing fuck all. 5/11 Furious Devotion– Found a tall sad lady and made his circus adopt her. gives money to orphans. 7/11 Hideous Cackling– Genuinely personified this action for two years. 11/11 total score: 52/77

Jester Collection of Crap– In addition to being the Holder Of The Bag, she also collects doughnuts and cool shit. While most of her random shit has potential uses, it’s also a whole lot of random shit. Some of its weasels. 10/11 Chaos– Spreading discord is a religious mandate for her. Her powers come from chaos. 11/11 Minionhood– A champion of the Yes And, she is more likely to voice her opinion of an existing plan than come up with her own. She is definitely a better minion than the Traveler’s other ONE. 10/11 Gooey Center– Physically well-defended, she has the luxury of wearing her heart on her sleeve. 6/11 Laser Pointer Focus– It might seem like she’s easily distracted, but that’s actually because her surface level attention is secondary. her primary goal is actually Fucking Shit Up, and she’s good at it. 7/11 Furious Devotion– Gets attached and does. not. let. go. 10/11 Hideous Cackling– The end goal of practically everything Jester does is Cackling With The Traveler, and she often succeeds. 10/11 total score: 64/77

Caduceus: Collection of Crap– Dude has a swarm of bugs living in his staff, and his backpack is full of tea. 8/11 Chaos– NOT a fan of stuff that disrupts the proper order of nature, but he is developing a wonderful and unique sense of humor. 5/11 Minionhood– Of all the M9, Caduceus has the strongest adherence to an ironclad and pre-written set of ethics and willingness to follow the path a greater power has laid out for him. 10/11 Gooey Center– Encourages everyone else to talk about their feelings, yet doesn’t talk about his own in the same way. Mysterious. 7/11 Laser Pointer Focus– Has a well-defined goal, but not a well defined path. 11/11 Furious Devotion-- You can’t be On A Quest To Save Your Home (And The World?) if you’re not devoted to your home. However we haven’t seen the fury? Structured devotion is different and not exactly Goblin. 5/11 Hideous Cackling– Cackling is a bit more intense than what he does, but he’s on the right track. 5/11 total score: 51/77

final ranking (out of 77)

38, Beau 👊

43, Caleb 🐱

44, Nott 🏹

50, Fjord 🗡️

51, Caduceus 🐞

52, Molly 🎴

53, Yasha ⚡

64, Jester 🦄

All in all, a pretty Goblin Group, and Nott, the only one who is physically a goblin, is not even in the middle of the pack. Clearly, true Goblin Spirit is something else all together.

It seem that perhaps the True Goblin Was The Friends We Made Along The Way. also Jester.

#critical role #cr2 #the mighty nein #nott the brave #veth brenotto #caleb widogast #beauregard lionett #fjord #caduceus clay #mollymauk tealeaf #yasha #jester lavorre #critrole #is this a Whole Lot? yes #was it fun? also yes #is it better than the original version? yes

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creamypudding · 5 years ago

Text

Combo story sneak peek

I sort of finished the Clack/AkuRoku combo story I started in 2017, waylaid for The Two Penguins, and picked back up this year to complete it for a Big Bang, which died before it ever took off. I say sort of finished because I haven’t written the very last chapter yet, which is an epilogue set several years after the end, and which I am not very invested in writing at the moment (if at all). I haven't read through the entirety of this story yet. It’s still in first draft. I’m going to put this to bed for now and get going on some other projects I’ve yet to start/complete. The break will let me come back to it with fresh eyes and opinions and I hope a feeling of wanting to refine it.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I don’t feel very satisfied finishing this story. Well... ok, thinking about it, I think I do know why I feel this way. In part, it’s because this story isn’t satisfying. It’s not got a happy end. But I suspect the main reason is that I don’t feel like the emotion I wanted to transpose from my own experience into this story is adequately portrayed. At least that’s how I feel not having read the whole thing in one go, nor even the last chapter in one go. Maybe I need to be kinder on myself. Maybe the story isn’t even so bad. And if the story does lack the emotional punch like I suspect, it’s probably something I can fix in the subsequent drafts. Anyway, for anyone interested, you can have a sneak peek at the first chapter. May it pique interest. If anyone wants to be a pre-reader for me please get in touch with me. I would appreciate at least one person to read through this and give me feedback on the story, pacing, character development, and relationships. Title: Fleeting Moments (working title) Chapter: 1/(possibly)7 Fandom: FFVII/Kingdom Hearts - Modern AU Pairing: Cloud/Zack and Axel/Roxas Rated: Mature (drug use -smoking and drinking-) Word Count: 8,170 Summary: Cloud and Roxas meet Zack and Axel in a laundry, of all places.

CHAPTER 1 -

The mechanical whir and swish of the washing machines was almost hypnotic, and drowned out the dripping of a leaky faucet somewhere within the laundry room. Cloud, with his back pressed to the wall, sat on the wooden bench lining the side closest to the door.

The laundry was wholly unremarkable. It smelt of washing detergent and liquid softeners. Garish lights above only served to wash out the drab, peeling paint of the walls even further. The cold, gray concrete floor had lost all its polished sheen, and the change and vending machines had all seen better days.

Yet this was one of Cloud’s favorite spots. Winter was dismal up in the mountains, with long hallways and wide open expanses lying between the laundry and his temporary residential housing. So Cloud chose to sit, cocooned in the underground warmth of this room, while he waited for his clothes to be washed so he could move them into the dryer.

He got a lot of reading done down here, which was a definite benefit. Most sane people chose to go do other things than hang in the laundry while their things got clean. So it was mostly quiet and empty in the laundry, and for Cloud this spelt sanctuary from society and his own rather busy life.

People came and went, and Cloud took no notice. He only looked up whenever a machine beeped, checking if it was his one announcing the completion of its cycle. It was never his, so he continued on with his book, an auto-biography. He found himself deeply engrossed in it when eventually a beeping did faintly register. He looked up again, like so many times before, searching out his machine. From where he sat he could make out the LCD display. There were still ten minutes left.

“Hey. Whatcha reading?”

Cloud jumped with a start and then frowned. Eyes darted to see where the question had come from. He found the source in seconds. A man stood by one of the machines facing the opposite wall. He was hauling clothes out of the toploader but looking directly at Cloud.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” came the apology, along with a smile, which lit up the man’s whole face.

Cloud couldn’t fathom why he was being spoken to. “It’s fine. And, um… it’s a auto-biography of Ferdinand Papora.” Cloud flashed the front cover up, so the man could see it.

“Who’s that?”

“A racing car driver.”

“Pretty famous?”

“Obviously not famous enough if you’ve never heard of him.”

“Well he might be. I’m completely oblivious to that sort of thing. You like racing?”

“Not particularly.”

A confused look was followed up with the question, “So what’s with the book then?”

Cloud inspected the paperback cover before he spoke. “I just like to read biographies. Doesn’t really matter whose it is. And the library here has tons of different ones.” The man continued smiling. “That’s a cool way of expanding your horizons. I might take inspiration from you, if that’s all right.”

Cloud shrugged. “Go ahead. It’s not like I’ve got copyright over reading books on subjects I’ve no interest in.”

“Well, you must have some interest, right? I’ve been here for five minutes, trying to ask you a question but you were totally engrossed in that book.”

He felt slightly taken aback and said, “Oh. Sorry.”

“No worries. So the book’s a real page turner?” The man hoisted up a collapsible laundry basket and moved toward the dryer section.

“Mmm. It has its moments.”

“Think you’ll finish it?”

“Of course. I see things through to the bitter end.”

The man laughed. “That sounds dire. You a perfectionist?”

Cloud hummed thoughtfully. “Nah, I’m just a completionist.” “I stand corrected.” The man dumped his load of laundry into the dryer, inserted coins and pushed some buttons. “So this Ferdinand—ah…”

“Papora,” Cloud assisted.

“Yeah, him. What are some of his more notable moments?”

“Well,” Cloud inspected the book, to help jog his memory, “He survived three near-fatal crashes. Went through some pretty hefty rehab in hospital, and continues driving even to this day, despite the peg-leg.”

“Woah, seriously?”

“No. I made up the peg-leg, but the rest’s true.”

The man laughed loudly. It shook into Cloud a little. “What a shame. That would have made even me read the book.”

“It’s still a worthwhile read. The guy’s pretty… driven.”

Another laugh and a great big smile lifted and turned the other man’s rather tanned complexion a little darker. “Nice one.”

Cloud cracked a smile. He wasn’t usually this chatty, particularly with a stranger but… well he put it down to being in a relatively good mood.

The man closed the lid of the machine and leaned against it, looking across the room at Cloud. “I’m Zack, by the way.”

“Cloud,” he responded.

With raised eyebrows Zack said, “Nice name.”

Cloud gave a small sigh. His mood was about to go south. “Here we go,” he muttered.

The raven-haired man tilted his head to the side. “Go where?”

“The weather related puns. Go on. I’ve heard them all.” He resigned himself to the inevitable. Cloud opened his book again to give a clear indication that he was done communicating.

“Really? That thought didn’t even cross my mind.”

Cloud laid eyes on him without lifting his head. “What was with that look, then?”

“What look?”

Cloud imitated what he had just witnessed.

Zack shrugged and pushed off the machine, walking toward Cloud. “It’s just how my face works. I think Cloud’s a cool name. They’re my favorite things about the sky, you know.” He came to a standstill a few steps away from Cloud.

Cloud skeptically scanned the man before him, dressed in dark jeans and a dark wool-knit turtleneck sweater. This close the man looked rather tall. It wasn’t even the thick heeled boots. He was probably really tall even without those on. Cloud wondered if he should he believe him. The man looked sincere enough; that soft smile plastered on the rather handsome face—broad cheeks, pointed jaw and nose—spoke of gentle earnestness. But with distrust in his voice Cloud questioned him, “Even more than stars?” Because everyone loved stars. It was a fact of life.

“Yeah. Even more than the stars and moon. Give me fluffy altocumulus or wispy cirrus clouds in a wide blue sky any day of the week. Even these nimbostratus clouds around here, bringing all the snow, are nice. But I do prefer the other ones. If I had to choose.” Zack tapped at lips, thoughtfully.

That response took Cloud by surprise. “Well, I’m impressed. Look at you, totally nerding out about clouds. You a meteorologist or something?”

“Nup. Just an amateur cloud fancier,” Zack grinned.

Cloud’s heart thumped a bit at that wording. He paid it no mind and returned a small smile of his own. Both men stayed like that for way too many moments. Cloud grew uncomfortable, desperately searching for something to say. He didn’t like people just looking at him. “What did you want to ask me?”

“Oh, right,” Zack slapped the side of his head. “I wanted to know if you’d have a drink with me this Saturday. I’ll be at the Clay Bar. Eight til late,” Zack positively beamed.

Cloud blinked, not comprehending. “What?”

“I mean, if you’re into it. If not then don’t worry.” The man’s toothy smile simmered down.

Had he heard right? Was he being asked out? By someone he just met? No way. Cloud opened his mouth to say… he knew not what.

“Cloud!” His name rang out several times, down the hallway, getting louder and louder by the second.

Both men turned their heads to look at the source of the tumult.

Roxas flew through the open doorway, “Cloud! Guess what! Sophia Tiller will be giving a symposium right here in the center!” By the time Roxas had finished that sentence he had slid with great force along the bench and was now in Cloud’s face, with hands resting on Cloud’s thighs.

“She is?”

“Yeah,” Roxas nodded eagerly.

Disbelief melted and excitement bubbled inside of Cloud. “We gotta get tickets.”

“Already sorted,” Roxas grinned.

“Nice one.” Cloud put his closed fist up and Roxas completed the gesture by fist bumping him.

The sound of a slight cough drew both men’s faces up and over.

Roxas frozen. The bubbling warm excitement gave way to overwhelming and sheer dread. Who was this guy? How long had he been there for? Had Roxas just embarrassed himself completely before a stranger? He looked to Cloud for a minute second.

Cloud saw the tension which seized Roxas. He gave him a quirked lip and a slight eyebrow raise to encourage him and let him know it was alright. That seemed to snap Roxas out of the panic.

“Oh. Hey! Uh—” Roxas glanced between Cloud and the stranger. Could he regain some dignity? Could he just… avoid? “Did I… interrupt something?”

“Ah… this is Zack. Zack, this is Roxas. We were just…”

“I was just leaving. But it’s nice to meet you, Roxas,” Zack said with a big smile.

Cloud was relieved, because he didn’t know how he would have finished that sentence had he been left to his own devices.

“Ah,” Roxas let out, half in relief, half in reply.

The room was quiet other than the sound of the clunk-clunk-clunk of the dryer going around. The men all looked between each other. The whole situation felt unnaturally awkward.

A loud beeping startled everyone. Cloud saw that his load was finally done, so he got up and made his way over to the machine, thankful that it alleviated the weird tension. He walked right past Zack. It was unavoidable and made Cloud full aware of the man’s height. He barely came up to his shoulders, and in no way was he short, not like Roxas.

“Do you need some help?” Zack asked as Cloud squatted down and pulled open the front loader door

“No, it’s what I’ve got Roxas for,” he said without looking up. “Roxas,” he commanded.

Roxas snapped out of his panicked thoughts which circled around telling him how he had embarrassed himself and how he was to blame for the absolutely stifling awkwardness which was in the room. “Coming,” he muttered and slid off the bench and shuffled over to Cloud, with his head bowed so as not to be seen by Zack. But Roxas still felt the towering presence. He reached Cloud, held out his arms and received the dumping of wet clothes. He then scurried over to the dryers, relieved to have his back to the source of his embarrassment.

Cloud stood up and followed Roxas with his eyes, but was brought back to himself as warmth radiated next to him. He turned and looked up at Zack out of the corner of his eye.

“Cute kid. He yours?” Zack nodded toward Roxas.

Cloud glowered. Roxas froze, somehow even more embarrassed. Kid? Roxas looked down at himself, dressed in his big blue Cookie Monster hoodie. He winced.

“We’re brothers," Cloud almost growled.

“Oh.” Zack laughed and rubbed at his neck, “Shit, sorry for assuming. That’s embarrassing. Sorry. My mistake.”

Exasperated, Cloud said, “Can you just leave?”

“Oh.” The way Zack’s face fell felt a little comical to Cloud. “Yeah, sure. But.. before I do… are we… okay?” He looked at Cloud with concern, and then throwing his head in the direction of Roxas said, “Hey, Roxas, man, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that.”

Roxas was focusing all his energy on putting each individual item of clothing into the dryer separately. He waves with one hand, not turning to look at the other man, and said, “All good.” His face was burning up. He wanted to strip off his hoodie and dump it in the trash.

Cloud looked over at his brother; the tension in his shoulder, his slow movements. He could feel Roxas’ discomfort and embarrassment. Why was Zack still here? Maybe Cloud wasn’t being tough enough? He needed the other man gone. Cloud pressed his lips together, leaned against the washing machine with his arms folded across his chest and gave the other man a pointed staredown.

Zack took a step back as if Cloud’s stance had put up a physical barrier. “Uh-oh. I’ll leave, no worries. Bye, Roxas,” he said loudly, and then more quietly, “See ya around, Cloud, yeah? I hope we’re okay. Clay Bar. Eight to late on Saturdays.” Zack gave Cloud a little smile and a casual two-fingered salute and hurriedly left the laundry. His hasty footfalls echoed and faded down the hall.

Cloud let out a deep breath, peeled his eyes off the doorway and onto Roxas who turned around to face Cloud across the way. His cheeks were a deep, splotchy crimson. Cloud felt terrible for him.

The two brothers stared at each other for a few beats and then the smiles grew and the laughter started out of both of them.

“You really let him have it with your Cloud-stare-of-death,” Roxas giggled madly, feeling so good to have the anxiousness replaced by a different sensation.

"Well, he was making everything really uncomfortable."

Roxas stopped laughing. "I think that was just me."

"It wasn't."

"Oh." Roxas left it alone. They argued way too much about what was and wasn't his fault. Roxas supposed life would be easier if he could believe Cloud, but they were brothers, so Cloud would always say stuff to make him feel better. "Was that a friend of yours?" he deflected.

Cloud returned to the bench to collect his discarded book. “No. He’s just a random guy I literally only met about ten minutes ago.”

Roxas chuckled. “That’s so unlike you; making random friends in the laundry.”

“We’re not friends.”

“But he said something about going to the bar?”

Cloud didn’t want to think about it. “How’re you feeling?”

“Oh… yeah… okay, I guess? Now anyway. Do you think I dress like a little kid?” He pulled at his sweater, looking down at Cookies big smiley face.

“You shouldn’t worry about it. There’s nothing wrong with liking Cookie Monster.” “Yeah, but I’m twenty and a guy. I had to go to the women’s section to find all the cute stuff.”

“Stop doubting yourself.” “You know I can’t do that. I wish it was easier.” Cloud sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. Is it getting better at all?”

“Little by little, I guess?” he shrugged.

Cloud smiled at his brother. “I definitely see the improvements you've made since you've been pushing yourself.”

The smile that should be on Roxas’ face never came. He just looked down at his sweater some more and frowned harder. “I still feel like I fall apart when you're not around.”

“Keep practicing. Worst case scenario; pretend I’m behind you, giving you this look—” Cloud gave him a dead serious and slightly angry scowl.

Roxas broke into a smile then and laughed. “Got it. The disappointed-dad glare. You do it so well.”

“I got it enough times to have mastered it.” Cloud rolled his eyes.

“He only looks at you like that because he loves you the most and expects the most from you.”

“Why couldn't you have been the older brother? It's all your fault,” Cloud threw out with a dismal and exaggerated sigh, ribbing Roxas.

Roxas stuck his tongue out as way of reply. “Hey, but that guy; Zack.”

Cloud sat down, trying to cast his mind back on that weird encounter. “What about him?”

“I think he’s got the hots for you.”

Cloud gave a startled cough. “Huh?”

“He was totally checking you out when you got the laundry out.”

“No.” “He did. I was stressing out but I still noticed. He totally was.”

Cloud groaned. “How about you get the dryer started or our clothes’ll never dry.”

“Oh, shit, yeah.” Roxas remembered what he came down here for. He turned back to the forgotten machine and inserted the coins.

Having Roxas’ eyes off him gave Cloud some reprieve to acknowledge what he was trying to deny himself. “You really think so?—about Zack?” he asked tentatively.

“Yup.” Roxas smacked the machine and felt it jolt to life with a loud rumble. He turned back around and walked over to where Cloud was sitting.

“Damn.” Cloud wrinkled his nose and looked at the floor. “What’s up?” Roxas returned to Cloud’s side giving him an inquisitive look.

“If you’re right then he also totally asked me out on a date before you came in.”

Roxas’ eyes and mouth sprang open. “Ooooo,” Roxas sing-songed and giggled. He snappily sat down next to Cloud and nudged his side with his elbow. “So I did ruin the mood, huh.”

“There was no mood to ruin,” Cloud denied and stood up. He hadn’t even been sure of what it had been before Roxas had bombarded him with his observations.

“You gonna take him up on the offer?”

Cloud pressed his lips together, thinking about it

“Hmm? Well?” Roxas grinned up at his always too serious brother.

Cloud grimaced and turned away from Roxas a little. He wasn't used to people asking him out, preferring to keep to himself as much as possible. But… “He is sort of… attractive,” he understated with a mutter.

“Only sort of?” The tease was unmistakable.

Sexy chiseled jaw, tight jeans, cool leather jacket, and did he already think of those tight jeans? He had smelt really nice too as he had passed him. Cloud merely grunted and then conceded with a small, “Maybe.”

Roxas sniggered and wore a satisfied smirk. “Attaboy.”

“Shut up. When’s this Sophia Tiller thing happening?”

“Oh right. Two weeks from now. I left the flyer with all the info on the kitchen counter.”

“Okay. I’ll go email it out to both our groups and then I really need to get ready for work. Don’t forget to take the clothes out.” “No worries. I’m on it, and thanks!” Roxas waved as Cloud took his leave of the laundry room. --------------

Roxas sat in the laundry, fiddling around on his phone to pass the time. He played some mindless games, trawled through online message boards, and checked the clothes, separating and pulling out the items which were drier than the others and putting them in a plastic bag he had pulled out from his pocket.

Dark hair and a somewhat familiar face popped through the doorway at some point, attracting Roxas’ attention.

“Hey, Roxas. Is it okay if I come in? I need to get my stuff out of the dryer.”

Roxas felt his stomach drop and butterflies kicked up a storm. His heart jolted into an uneasy pace. He pulled his arms around himself, trying to hide his sweater. Heat prickled his chest and cheeks. “You don’t have to ask me. It’s a public space,” he got out, trying to shut off his thoughts.

“I just thought… if I make you uncomfortable I can always leave and come back later.”

That offer took Roxas aback. “N-no, you’re fine to come in.”

“Oh, cool.” Zack grinned and he strode into the warm room. “I didn't mean any offence.”

Roxas just nodded, hoping Zack would leave him alone, and he pulled his phone out again, hunching in on himself with his feet up on the bench, knees up and slouching against the corner wall. But apparently Zack took Roxas’ silence as something entirely different—

“I'm sorry, really. I just wanted to figure out who you were to Cloud. I didn't wanna overstay my welcome if you were… well, you know.”

Roxas didn't, but figured he had to make conversation if he was ever going to have Zack believe that he wasn't angry at him. He tried to picture Cloud’s disappointed-dad face and told himself it was fine because he had already made a fool of himself once. He took a deep breath and then, “It’s all good. All fine. Really. A lot of people assume I'm much younger than I am.” And no wonder with the way that he looked and often times acted. If he wasn’t running away from social situations he ended up saying dumb shit which made him look like a complete imbecile.

Zack advanced further towards Roxas’ position. “Well, I’m sorry anyway.”

“You don't have to keep saying that. You're not in Cloud’s bad books or anything,” he muttered, wondering—hoping—that this wasn't really about himself.

“Well, he does love reading,” Zack chuckled to himself. “Ah… hey, Roxas,” Zack sat down and slid across the bench toward him. Roxas pulled his knees closer to himself. “You think I'm in with a chance? With your brother, I mean.”

The tight coil of panic eased a little bit and he felt breathing to be a little easier. It really was all about Cloud. Thank god! Zack clearly didn’t care about him at all. Such a relief! He shrugged by way of reply. Cloud would definitely hurt him if he told Zack what they had discussed earlier.

“Got any tips for me?”

Roxas shook his head. He wanted to be left alone, so he looked back down at his phone.

The hint seemed to finally be received. Zack sighed and got up. “It wasn't supposed to be an interrogation. Just came to get my stuff.” He walked to a dryer and started pulling clothes out.

Roxas would have felt relieved… if he didn’t feel so bad. He wished for Cloud to be around to make him feel more at ease. But he wasn’t, and Roxas was stuck in his own anxiety-riddled skin. He stared blankly at his phone, tapping the screen to keep it from going into sleep, while all his senses were trained on Zack, without directly looking at him.

He worried and wondered what Zack thought of him to an unreasonable extent. Why should it matter to him? He didn’t even know Zack. But no amount of reasoning ever seemed to do him any good. He wanted to leave a good impression though. He didn’t want Zack to hate him, especially if he would be around for a while. The fact that Cloud had apparently engaged Zack enough for them to have talked for a bit was significant. Unless it was for business, or a close friend or family member, Cloud didn’t give people so much as the time of day. For some weird reason this felt weighty, in his chest and limbs, and especially in his head.

Lid slammed. Roxas tore his unfocused gaze away from his phone and up toward Zack, who walked carrying his load of washing in a cloth bag. His unhurried but determined footsteps echoes around the quiet space. “Later, Roxas.” He gave a wave and a congenial smile.

Roxas was totally leaving a terrible impression right now. He could feel it. “Peanut butter,” he burst out as Zack vanished through the doorway.

Footsteps ceased and seconds later Zack leaned backward through the doorway and looked at Roxas, confused. “Huh?”

“Cloud. He loves peanut butter. Smooth. Not crunchy.”

Gray-blue eyes lit up and Zack’s smile stretched wide across his face. “Thanks, man!” and with that Zack was gone, his steps fading off into the distance of the long concrete hallway beyond.

Roxas was left alone once more and he breathed out his nerves. He had managed to not make a fool of himself this time. But what if Cloud got angry with him? Should he really have given the man any information about anything pertaining to his own flesh and blood? Had he become some sort of an accomplice? Roxas tried to take a deep, calming breath. And another. And another. “Fuck!” He got up, poked his head out past the doorway to see if anyone was around. The coast was clear. He went toward the back of the laundry, around a corner where the wash basins for handwashing were situated. He went to the very back corner, squeezing in between the end of the washbasin and the corner wall to where a ventilation grate sat recessed in the wall. He loosened the screws which held the vent grate in place. A bit of jiggling leant itself to the metal coming out of its wall fitting. It revealed a hollow and dark cavity, leading out of the building. Roxas reached into the void, expertly finding what he had put there himself; a ziplock bag with a stage of cigarettes and a lighter inside. He looked at the bag and swore. He only had one left.

Without thinking about it he took the lone smoke and lighter out and shoved the empty bag back in the hole. He’d have to bum a few smokes off someone when he got another chance. That thought made him feel even more stressed out.

His hands jittered a little but he got himself lit up after two tries. He took a deep dragging suck of the heavy smoke. It delightfully hit that spot right at the top of his throat and instantly soothed his nerves. He took a few more longer drags, exhaling into the vent and then stubbed out the cigarette and returned it into the bag. He wasn’t a heavy smoker. It was just a vice to help soothe his nerves. If he could save this cigarette he’d be spared the anxiety of having to ask strangers for a new one.

“Blowing-fucking-hole-of-motherfucking-shit!”

Roxas jumped with fright and snapped his attention to the main part of the laundry. He quickly worked at securing the vent and quietly walked over to the corner, to peek around and see what was going on.

He saw the source of the profanity and it certainly wasn't hard to spot; a lanky redhead, sporting hands on hips, staring at the detergent vending machine which was mounted on the wall near the first row of washing machines.

Roxas slunk back around his corner and took deep breaths. The few puffs he had of the nicotine still calmed him. He could stay hidden here. He could go over to the dryer and check it to make himself look busy. There was no need to be shy or nervous.

“Why’re there so many Goddamn brands to choose from in this metallic piss pot?” A loud metallic thump sounded through the space.

Roxas felt his heart sink. He probably should help. No one else was around after all and the longer he lingered in indecisiveness the worse his embarrassment would be if the guy realized he had been in here all along. Roxas pictured Cloud’s stern stare. He told himself to play it cool, took a deep breath, clenched his trembling fists, and stepped out of his hiding nook, saying, “You need a hand with anything?”

The man jumped and yelped. He whirled around, squeaking slightly, “Oh geez. Where’d you come from?”

Roxas stared at piercing green eyes, high cheekbones and pointed chin. An overwhelming sense of inadequacy rushed through him. This stranger was completely handsome. Roxas shrunk in on himself, crossing his arms in front of himself, trying to hide Cookie Monster. He screamed at himself for still wearing the sweater.

“Eh…” the man said.

Roxas blinked rapidly. Shit. What had been the question? “My mom and dad?”

The redhead’s eyebrow rose as did the corner of his mouth.

Roxas screamed internally at his stupidity. He was aiming for cool - not complete dork. “I-I mean I’ve just been here,” he gave a vague shrug towards the dryers. Had he saved it? “Need help?” he tried to deflect walking closer and calling himself names.

The amusement the other man wore melted away, “Yes! I don’t normally do laundry. I have no idea which of these to use.” He pointed at the dispenser and stuck his hands deep into his jean pockets.

Roxas' heart raced uncomfortably, his palms sweat, but he could handle the topic of laundry. He’d just focus on that instead of vivid green eyes. He walked over with a bit of confidence as he fixed his gaze onto the vending machine. He tried to ignore the fact that the redhead was very tall. He hugged himself tighter, really wishing he had worn something cool today, instead of childish. “Well,” he began, “most of these are all the same. You can have liquid or powder—not that it really matters. The only thing you might need to watch out for is if you’ve got sensitive skin. Then you’d want this one or this one,” Roxas pointed and looked ever so briefly at the other man. “And don't even worry about all these at the bottom. No one needs fabric softener in their lives.”

“But what if I hate scratchy fabric on my delicate skin?”

Roxas looked up and studied the man next to him then, not sure if he was being messed with or if the guy was sincerely concerned. But he couldn’t tell because he got too distracted by porcelain skin which accentuated and drew out the color of the green eyes and the red hair and Roxas had never seen someone like this before, and he hung out with artists all the time, but still nothing compared to that color palette and what was he looking at the man for again?

The mesmerizing green eyes flicked onto Roxas. Thin lips quirked up into a smile.

Roxas quickly looked away and pulled his stupid mouth shut. How long had he been slack-jawed for? Washing Powders! “Ah—” he cleared his throat and tried again, “Then maybe do buy the softener?”

“Nah. Think I'll manage without it.”

Whether on purpose or by accident the man's arm brushed Roxas'. He hardly heard the next part because he was so focused on inconspicuously shifting away from the redhead.

“I’m pretty easy. I could wash my clothes in dish soap and I’d be fine. Why don’t we use dish soap for clothes?”

Roxas shrugged, trying to catch his breath and tell his head to shut up and to not say anything more embarrassing. “Wouldn’t want your clothes squeaky and sparkling, right?” An internal groan followed. He couldn’t pull off cool in a million years. Dork it was always destined to be.

A small laugh came out of the other man and then he said, “Right.”

Roxas’ heart pounded. His cheeks were so definitely red and hot and fuck he wanted to vanish. ‘Just focus on the topic,’ he told himself. “Anyway, you’re better off using this one,” Roxas pointed to the brand Cloud always used. “That seems to work best with these old machines.” “Cool. Thanks.”

Roxas gave the briefest of smiles to the stranger, not daring to focus too hard on his face. He turned his back and walked to his machine where he was definitely going to throw himself into it and disappear from view. He got to his destination, opened the lid but determined he wouldn’t fit. Instead he checked on the clothes, especially the jeans; checking the hems to see if they were drying properly.

“Yo, guy—dude—you. Cookie!"

Cookie! Roxas was mortified and absolutely wanted to die. He turned his head to take a look and saw flailing hands, beckoning him over.

“Roxas,” he offered, shutting the lid of the dryer to let it continue its tumbling. He reluctantly walked toward the redhead, still trying to distort Cookie Monster on his chest by bunching the fabric up.

“Sure. Sup. I’m… Axel. So this machine… what gives?”

“Whaddya mean? Have you never used one of these?”

“No. Well, yeah. But usually there’s like one button to push and I walk away. These things are ancient.”

That made Roxas huff with a small laugh. “Yeah. Their almost like lost relics from another dimension.” Roxas’ smile fell when he saw Axel give him a confused look. He kicked himself. Why couldn't he stick to simple yes and no answers? He didn't know, but he grew determined to be helpful and just focus on the machine, and not the man. “Ah… you just set the cycle here, hit this, spin that and you’re done. Oh and don’t forget to put the detergent in there.” Roxas pointed to all the things he mentioned.

“Awesome. Thanks, man.”

Roxas gave a small nod and turned to get distance between himself and Axel. He barely made it back to his machine before he heard a frustrated grumble.

“I did what you said. So why isn't it starting?” A metallic thud echoed.

Would this troubleshooting nightmare ever end? Couldn't Roxas be left alone? How much more help did he have to give? Clearly, this was a cruel test on his determination for self-improvement. Roxas turned back around. “Kicking it won't help.”

“Maybe. But it's fun. Wanna try?” Axel grinned.

Roxas’ nervousness died a little bit. He shook his head and returned to Axel's side, checking all the settings, redoing them himself and then they both stood around, hands on hips, looking at it.

Axel gave a loud groan and bowed his head. “I’m not cut out for domestics.”

“I don’t know why it’s not working. You put money in, didn’t you?”

Axel raised his head, stared at Roxas and suddenly looked behind Roxas and pointed, “What’s that over there?”

Roxas snapped his attention behind himself. Was it a fire? A large bug? Another person having walked in? He saw nothing bar the empty doorway. Had he just been made fun of? Roxas turned back around fully prepared to get laughed at but saw the other man slip two coins into the coin slot of the machine and push the start button.

The machine sputtered to life.

Axel side-eyed Roxas, and Roxas quickly looked away.

“Oh look, magic! It works now!”

The smile grew and Roxas tried to stifle it but he laughed anyway and Axel let out a small laugh as well. They looked back at each other, smiling.

“Amazing magic,” Roxas remarked, nervous tension sliding off his chest.

Axel nodded. “Hey, uh… Roxas?”

“Mm?”

“You seem like the kind of guy who would know where to get a smoke around here.”

The good mood froze inside of Roxas. “Why?” he asked as he stared.

“Well, I can smell it on you.”

Shit. Roxas frowned and snapped at himself for having been so careless. He was so fucking lucky that Cloud wasn’t around right now. “And?” he asked, hesitant of where this would lead.

“I could really use one right about now.”

Roxas could relate. He debated with himself whether or not to give Axel directions to the tobacconist down in the town or if he should keep Axel around. He heavily leaned toward sending Axel away but… “Well—” He looked around, making sure the coast was clear, and then beckoned Axel to follow him around the corner to where the handwash basins and his hidden stash were.

This was unprecedented, but Roxas thought they had shared 'a moment' so maybe it would be all right. He walked with purpose to the corner of this section of the room and squeezed into the gap between the washbasin and the wall. Axel was right beside him, squeezing into the small space as well.

Their sides were pressed together. Roxas could smell a hint of musk and feel the other man’s radiating body heat. He really hoped he wasn't going to say something stupid as he began talking, “Can you keep a secret?” he asked in a hushed tone.

Axel leaned down. “I’m master of secret keeping.”

Roxas swallowed down the lump forming. Axel’s warm breath brushing against his face was caught and detected by every fine hair on Roxas’ cheeks and caressed his lips. Nervous butterflies swirled around inside himself. “Ah… normally I wouldn’t do this but—” The tremble and buzzing radiated outward from the pit of his stomach. Roxas really needed to calm his nerves. A smoke would help. He shifted, turning toward the wall, and swiftly got the grate undone and his half-smoked cigarette and the lighter out again.

“Ooo, a secret stash!”

Roxas heard the excitement in Axel’s voice as he slotted the grate back into place, without redoing the screws. He pressed his back against the opposite wall, trying to get an inch of space between himself and the other man, before offering up the nearly half-smoked cigarette.

"Sorry, this is all I've got left."

Axel took it, but not without dragging a finger down the length of Roxas’ hand. "Thank you for sharing it with me."

The touch nullified all of Roxas’ thoughts and sent his heart racing. He looked up at green eyes, which looked down at him, half closed. Roxas didn’t know what to make of it. He simply watched long fingers holx and push the cigarette against thin lips in a well-practiced manner.

"We'll share the rest of this one?" Axel mumbled past the obstruction in his mouth and leaned towards the lighter which Roxas held up.

Roxas nodded and flicked the lighter a few times. He could hardly breath. Green eyes kept looking at him in a way that was too sexy for Roxas to comprehend. He needed to smoke a whole packet if he was ever going to recover from this.

Roxas kept flicking the lighter, hating himself that he couldn’t get the blasted thing working. He never had a problem doing this in the past. The one time someone was watching him—someone insanely hot, no less—and he couldn't get the blasted thing working. Well, of course, it figured.

“Here.” The other man's warm hand clasped over Roxas’, steadying him enough so the flame could be lit.

The touch was almost electric with the jolt it sent through Roxas and the flutters it caused. He felt so embarrassed that it made him nauseous.

“You don’t do this very often?” Axel leaned the cigarette into the flame and took a few drags to get it lit.

“Only sometimes—blow into the vent,” he instructed. “Stops the place from stinking, and the fire alarm from going off.”

Axel hummed in appreciation. Whether it was from the nicotine hitting him or from Roxas’ instructions he couldn’t tell.

Smoke was exhaled into the ventilation system. “Clearly you've done this enough times to know the ins and outs of the place. A real veteran at doing the sneaky sneaky, huh” Axel grinned and winked before passing the cigarette on.

Roxas took it, trying his best to ignore the way their fingers touched and connected. The longer he was pressed up against Axel like this the more in need of a smoke he was. He took a drag, and pulled thick air into his lungs, where the nicotine could do its magic. He let out a shaky breath into the ventilation system and coughed a bit at the end.

More embarrassment welled, counteracting the calming effect the smoke was supposed to have on his nerves.

Roxas passed the cigarette back and saw the way Axel barely held laugh at bay.

“Go on. Let it out.”

“Nah. Couldn't do that. Not after your generosity.” Axel took another puff. “Ah… what about the ashes?”

“Tap them into the sink behind you. We’ll wash them down after.”

Axel did laugh at that. “Nice. You got this all figured out. But why the covert operation? Last I checked smoking wasn't illegal—outside that is. Pretty illegal us doing it in here. You doing it for the extra buzz?” Axel chuckled, passing the smoke once more and as it got smaller and smaller their fingers grazed and connected more and more.

“My brother would lose his shit if he found out.” “Why’s he such a busy-body?"

“Our grandad and uncle died from lung cancer. So it’s probably a genetic predisposition and probably in my best self-interest to not smoke. But… you know,” Roxas shrugged, feeling more relaxed in his own skin even as he could feel himself trembling and feel his cheeks oh so hot with the flush he was experiencing. “Once in a while won't kill me, right?”

“I hope not. Would be a waste.” Axel smiled and Roxas chose to look at the wall instead.

They passed the cigarette between one another for a few more pulls before it was all used up. Roxas was glad when it was all over. Having to reach his arm around the guy so he could ash was wearing on him. As was all the body contact, if Roxas was honest with himself. He tried to ignore it because he could feel his heart race every time he noticed the sensation of legs against his own and the man's pelvis and hips digging in. He shifted as discreetly as he could because he was getting hard and he would die if Axel could feel.

Roxas turned away a little and pulled the grate off the wall once more and disposed of the butt in there and replaced the lighter. He really lamented the fact now that he would have to try and bum another smoke off someone in the near future. That activity alone was so nerve-wracking that he really considered forking out the cash to buy a whole pack for himself. But that seemed too risky for the once in a while medicating relief the cigarettes provided. He sighed to himself in resignation and Pulled out a packet of gum.

He turned back to face Axel, pressing himself tight against the wall to create some space between his groin and the warm delicious and ridiculously hot man before himself and held out the packet. “You want?”

Axel laughed and took a stick. “Thanks. What else you got hidden in there? Drugs?”

Roxas took a piece of gum, popped it in his mouth and threw the packet back in the vent. “Um… just this,” he reached in and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. What the hell. He figured he might as well go all the way with incriminating himself.

“Oh my God, Roxas!”

The look of surprised mirth, coupled with the laugh Axel gave, sent a tingle down Roxas’ body. “What?” he asked, trying to hide the smile. He figured his blush couldn't get any deeper so chose to ignore that, and instead focused on how maybe, just maybe, he was pulling off cool?

“Don't be giving me that cute little smile. You're way too badass for that.” Axel laughed some more.

Roxas let the smile spread. He totally was pulling it off. If it wouldn't have a detrimental effect Roxas would have cheered and fist pumped the air. “You wanna?” He held the bottle aloft.

Axel accepted it, unscrewed the top, took out his gum, and took a long swig. He passed it back to Roxas when he was done.

“I shouldn't have accepted the drink,” Axel lamented, popping the gum back in.

“Why not?” Roxas looked at him, confused, and took a deep gulp of his own. It tasted weird with the combination of cigarette smoke and minty gum freshness, but the taste wasn't the reason for drinking for Roxas.

“Well, now I can’t use my line of 'we should go out for a drink some time,’ on you, now can I?”

Roxas choked, coughed and sputtered, bending over a little, sending his forehead right into Axel's chest.

Axel's hand was on Roxas' back in moments, patting and rubbing, which only made Roxas sputter more.

“Take it easy.”

Roxas got control of himself, screwed the cap back on, replaced his gum, and thrust the bottle deep into the vent, closing it up. He was making a colossal fool of himself. His mood sullied considerably. “I can't go out for a drink with you anyway.”

“Why not? Do you need your brothers permission for that as well?”

“No. But I'm twenty, so legally not allowed in this dumb country.”

“I should probably be upset about you callin’ my country dumb—” Roxas suddenly froze, but then breathed out a small sigh as Axel continued, “but the drinking age is dumb. So I’ll let it slide. Do you really have a reason to complain though? You somehow got your hands on a red label,” Axel grinned. “You certainly are something else, Roxas, I'll give ya that.”

“Uh… thanks?”

“You're welcome.”

They were still wedged against each other, between the wall and the wash basin. Neither of them giving the slightest hint to the other that they should move. Well... Roxas couldn’t. He felt frozen in place, party by want and party due to sheer terror. He thought his legs would buckle and collapse under him. Axel was keeping him upright and as Roxas looked up at him he hoped he remembered to blink as he stared deep into pools of green.

Those eyes were so damn sexy.

Axel’s mouth drifted open, his eyes widened a fraction and softened just as quickly. “Ah, thanks. Yours are gorgeous too.” He smiled gently.

Roxas tensed up and forgot to breathe. He swore he could feel all the blood drain away from his face. Had he said something? Shit. He stammered out, “S-sorry. I shouldn't have—they’re not—I mean you’re not—you are—but—just… sorry.” He quickly extracted himself from the tight corner.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” It came out too hoarse and harsh for his own liking. Roxas berated himself for being a massive idiot.

“Is there anything I can do to repay you for sharing your secret stash with me?”

At least Axel wasn’t teasing him about it. That made him feel somewhat relieved. Roxas, feeling a tiny bit more composed, turned around. Green eyes darted upwards, where they exchanged looks. Fuck! Axel had seen Cookie Monster. Thought Roxas had lied about his age. Thought he was a complete moron and a little kid. Roxas crossed his arms. He was going to burn the sweater, he swore he would. But first he needed this to end. His nerves were getting shot again and he felt like he might need to down the whole bottle if this went on for much longer. With a bowed head and a deep grumble he said, “Can you please just forget what a massive dork I am?”

“Dork? I think you’re really cute… and a bit sexy.” Axel stepped out of the corner to stand right in front of Roxas.

That froze Roxas up completely. He stared at the black boots with a red trim. Swallowing down the tight lump in his throat he slowly lifted his gaze up over jeans, and the red and black sweater up to Axel’s face, where he saw a soft expression.

With hands deep in pockets, Axel said, “If I can’t buy you a drink at least let me take you out.”

“Like… on a date?”

“Mm. Not really but kinda?” he shrugged.

Roxas didn’t understand what that was supposed to mean. “No. Look, that’s not necessary. I didn’t share this with you ‘cause I wanted anything back.”

“Aren’t you nice.”

Roxas frowned and hugged himself tighter, looking away.

“Roxas?” “What?” he snapped, shooting Axel a grumpy look.

“I’d really like to hang out with you some more.”

It was bizarre and out of left field. Roxas looked around himself, half expecting someone to jump out and yell, 'Gotcha!' “Why? I suck.”

Axel chuckled. “Do you now?”

Roxas wanted to die to escape the embarrassment. “No. I…”

“It’s all right. I blow, you know,” Axel winked.

Roxas choked a bit on his spit. “What?” he croaked. What was even happening right now?

“I blow. I’m in this band and I play the sax. What did you think I meant?”

That cheeky smile said it all. Axel was teasing him. For good or for bad Roxas couldn't tell. “I didn’t think that. No.” He grumbled some more and hunched in on himself more.

“Shame, 'cause if you did, well—” Axel flashed his eyebrows up and a smirk bloomed while he flicked his tongue out to wet his lips.

A swirling hurricane of emotions and thoughts whirled through Roxas. What was going on? This stuff never happened to him. People didn’t hit on him. Axel was doing that, right? Or maybe he did just delight in making Roxas flush deeply and to make him uncomfortable? Roxas opened his mouth, but nothing bar incoherent sounds come out.

A low chuckle flowed from Axel. “It’s all right. Come and watch me blow—this Saturday. Any time after eight.”

Had Axel moved closer to Roxas? It felt like there was no space between them. He took a step back. “I ah—I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Good.”

The harsh beeping of the dryer was like a warm embrace from a dear loved one. “That’s me,” Roxas said with haste, turned and almost bolted to his station. As he pulled out the clothes with great speed and determination he heard Axel’s footsteps drawing closer.

“It was fun, Roxas. Don’t forget, this Saturday at the Clay Bar, yeah? You need to see me in action.”

“Yeah, I’ll… maybe.” Roxas slammed the lid shut and almost ran out of the laundry, the bag of laundry thrown over his shoulder. If he had left anything behind he wasn’t coming back for it.

That’s it for chapter one. Feedback appreciated. If you’d like to pre-read the rest for me get in touch on here or Discord or twitter. All my relevant contact info can be found on my AO3 Profile page.

#fanfiction #sneakpeek #Clack #Zakkura #AkuRoku #FFVII #Kingdom Hearts #drug use #relationship building #social anxiety

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ffwriteradvisor · 5 years ago

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On discovering your characters

A lot of times, you don’t get a lot of say in what your character becomes. It’s not for a lack of trying, but sometimes they just seem to... grow into something more than the collection of character traits and quirks you put together at first. Or maybe it’s like archeology - carefully unearthing one fresh detail at a time as you go along.

Now for the first few points I’d like to make about discovering your characters.

1) While you should know a bit about a character once you start working with them, you don’t have to know everything about them right away.

Obviously, there are a few things you should know about your character to start with, otherwise you wouldn’t have a character in the first place. Names, age, gender, hometown, appearance, personality, tastes, hobbies, motivations, ambitions, skills... you have to have a few of these established before you can start building more.

You don’t have to have everything, no - this isn’t a resume or a comprehensive biography that needs to come with sources and a bibliography card, but the more important the character is, the more you have to know about them. You’re going to be spending time with them in the story after all and going on a journey with someone that stays a stranger the whole way just isn’t done.

A guy who shows up for two, maybe three scenes has to have just enough of a sketch to carry him through - a main character? You’re not only going to want an idea of their personality and general likes/dislikes, but their backstory - where did they come from, where did they go, what happened to them, and why?

However, for all this information is important, that doesn’t mean that it’ll come up for sure in the story or even that most of it is true - as the character comes to life in your mind, you might find out that the first things you thought you knew about them were lies, half-truths, and misdirections.

I had a character that I’d come up with almost seven years ago reveal himself as trans two weeks ago when I started getting ready to rewrite his story and was taking fresh notes on the original. This same character had previously failed to tell me about his medical knowledge until chapter 14, but it ended up being both a useful ability and a peek into a backstory I hadn’t elaborated on at all before that point.

It happens. That’s why it’s important to keep an open mind about what your characters are and could be.

2) Your audience doesn’t have to know everything that you know about the character. At least, not right away.

The thing about writing is that you have to strike a balance between too much and too little. Description, personality, plot, words... too much or too little of any of those things can make or break your story.

You as the writer need to have as much as possible. You cannot make a house without bricks, can’t make bricks without clay after all, and have to make sure all of those bricks are built on a solid foundation.

But your audience? Like how your character might have lied and misdirected you about various facts about them, you too can do that to the audience. Lie, misdirect, give just enough kernels of truth to make the ultimate reveal one of those ‘Ooooh-my-gaaAAHD! I should have known! It was right there!’ moments.

You don’t even have to give them those things directly in the story either. If you’re the kind of person who likes to make character profiles, just make one of those and put in something like (this is a recent example from One Piece that I saw recently).

‘Favorite food - curry, Least favorite food - curry made by someone he doesn’t trust’.

Like that kind of shit will drive your readers nuts because - I mean look at that. That’s a whole backstory you just got exactly one clue into, but damn if that clue isn’t a doozy. It’s got drama, it’s got mystery - who hurt you, Franky? I want to know - and you don’t ever have to explain it if you don’t want to.

Just because you know your characters blood type and zodiac sign doesn’t mean that your audience needs to know that. You can show it off if you want, but it has to work in context - maybe one of the characters is a big believer in horoscopes and zodiac compatibility, so they introduce themselves with their star sign as a matter of course. Maybe another character has a bleeding disorder or, as a medic for a group, constantly anxious about having enough of a given blood-type available, so they constantly needle people for information on their blood-type and any possible conditions that might affect them (anemia, hemophilia, etc.). Or it might only show up in side-data - a character profile thing that is sort of a bonus to those interested in such things.

3) Not every discovery is going to be good and that’s alright.

So imagine you’ve gotten really far with a character you have a lot of energy and faith invested in. They’ve got most of a backstory with room for new developments, defined personality, a well-balanced skill-set...

And then they showed off something bad.

Maybe their egotism just flexed in a way that makes them out to be a bigot, legitimately or not. Maybe their risk-taking behavior just took a turn for the self-destructive or, worse yet, put other members of their cast in danger in exchange for a cheap thrill.

That’s bad on their part, but not necessarily bad for your story. You might not have total control of your characters, but you can control how their story reacts to them.

Prove that the bigot’s views are wrong - not because of an exception on the part of the people they slighted, but because of their own failure to see past their own failings. Educate the ignorant character, not in a way that sounds like they - and the audience - are being preached at, but in a way that would encourage a person to learn instead of react with resentment, unless that’s what feeds your next plot development. Make the risk-taker experience an adrenaline rush built entirely on terror once they realize what they’ve done - and then push themselves past the limit to try to fix it. Or have other characters punish them appropriately.

You can use these things... and you should use these things, really. A character can’t just be good all the time - they have to stumble and fall in order to rise above what they were... or make the final descent to villain.

There are limits, obviously. The characters belong to themselves as much as they belong to you - if you force them to be something they’re not, they’ll change into someone else when who they were won’t fit into the new box. But sometimes that’s what you have to do - and don’t worry if the new version is different from the old. They might just work with you better than their previous incarnation, even if you have to discover them all over again.

#characters #character development #character building

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eponymous-rose · 6 years ago

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Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E39 (October 23, 2018)

(This week’s Talks will be posted after the episode airs tonight!)

Tonight’s guests are Liam O’Brien and Taliesin Jaffe! Also ft. Peak Dani (who has had it with these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking show) and Marisha Ray Everywhere.

Announcements:

Marisha’s BtS episode has aired and is now available online on CR’s YouTube. Taliesin: “It’s not ridiculous to say she’s one of the best people I know.”

Matt’s BtS aired yesterday. Brian: “I’ve done twenty-some hours of interviews, and this is the one that broke me.” Liam: “Yeah, he’s super shallow, right?”

There will be a bonus holiday episode of BtS featuring Ashley Johnson.

The Halloween episode of All Work No Play aired last week! Liam: “The most handsome Sam’s ever been.”

Laura’s one-shot was pre-taped and aired on Thursday (now available on G&S’s YouTube). Brian, on trying to maintain a British accent for his character: “It’s a nightmare. I apologize to all the Critters. I’m going to get Peaky Blindered.” It’s truly a thing of beauty.

Stats for this week’s episode:

Matt surpassed 15 nat 20s and 20 nat 1s for the campaign in this episode.

The M9 got their 150th kill: the yuan-ti abomination killed by Nott.

This episode was the first time a character dealt more than 150 damage in an episode, with Fjord dealing 158. However, he only dealt the second-highest: Yasha dealt 301!

By the end of the fight, the Warden had grown an additional 8 heads and had taken a total of 428 points of damage.

Liam has the same mini at home that Matt used in this episode. “The hydra’s in the corner. All the heads are facing the wall.”

Caleb’s been enjoying the Menagerie Coast, but he’s starting to want to go home with all this time on the boat and the island. “He’s very much of the Empire, and sees leaving it as both a chance to learn things that he doesn’t know and experience things he hasn’t experienced so he can do things he wants to do.” He’s also very cognizant that the whole group has needs, and he can’t just railroad everyone to the library. Taliesin: “He’s evolving. That’s nice.”

Liam has dyed his hair green, red, and blue. Brian did purple.

Cad hasn’t yet put together that the Cloaked Serpent is the Wildmother’s mortal enemy. “I don’t think he necessarily believes that that’s what’s happening yet.” Even as Taliesin, he isn’t entirely convinced.

Caleb hasn’t been avoiding Cad or anything. “I think Cad would see what the others see, which that Caleb’s fucked up.”

Everything gets derailed at the realization that Taliesin was in Facts of Life. Brian: “You can’t just throw shit like that!”

Caleb’s been looking at Cad with the perspective of, “Oh, hey, he’s the new guy, let’s see if he lasts.”

Taliesin: “He’s fascinated by your intellectualism. He wants to know that.” Dani: “Yeah he does.”

Cad’s perspective on the M9′s casual disposal of bodies: “It’s all food. As long as the body’s useful, it doesn’t matter where it goes.”

Caleb put a lot of trust in Fjord to hand him his spellbooks. “He does trust Fjord for certain things. Not enough to tell him everything. Caleb’s been getting a little cocky lately.”

There’s some innuendo here. Maybe. Just a little. “Ball’s in your court, Brian.”

Who would they trust to come in and play their characters in their absence? Taliesin: “I don’t have friends anymore.” Brian: “YOU KNOW TERI HATCHER!”

But seriously, Taliesin would ask Ashley first, then Marisha or Travis, as the ones most likely to get the zen. Liam: “I think Ashley would be number one, RP-wise, for Caleb. And it would probably be Taliesin.”

Mary Elizabeth McGlynn once explained hentai to Brian on an airplane for half an hour. “It was the funniest goddamn conversation I’ve had in my life.”

Gif of the Week: the beheading of the hydra.

Caduceus has “definitely dabbled in some psychotropics. That’s definitely something that grows in the garden.”

Taliesin and Liam generally cut themselves some slack for any mistakes they might have made in a game that’s played late at night after a full day of work. Liam: “Even the bad decisions lead to awesome.”

Taliesin: “I would’ve liked to have gotten the hydra high, now that I know that was an option.” There’s some discussion as to what kind of high a hydra would have, and if each head might react differently. Liam: “I told you we shouldn’t have mixed!”

Brian: “This has more dick jokes than Honey Heist 2, for some reason.”

Fanart of the week: the beautiful orchard chamber.

Taliesin on Travis’ ‘Molly’ slip-up: “Honestly, there’s very few things in the world that delight me more than seeing a little bit of shame roll down his face.” He purposely made an offended face at him. That moment delighted him.

Liam’s getting some great schadenfreude over Travis having to agonize over his RP decisions like the rest of them this campaign. “Fuck you with your emotional investment!”

Taliesin specifically made a character who bonds easily with people. He loves knowing things about the characters but being able to back off from that and feign ignorance.

Caleb being high meant that his self-flagellation got pushed way into the background. “It felt good not to care.” Brian asks if Caleb might seek escape through addiction to something like that, and Liam notes that Caleb doesn’t actually want to escape that self-loathing; he wants to wallow in it. Liam: “He really likes hating on himself. That was the point of all this. He wants to do something unfathomable fueled by self-loathing. There’s a thin little window that, if he sticks the landing, he can untie the knot.”

Clay’s mostly just pushing forward with this whole release-the-snake-of-many-eyes thing in the hopes of getting answers; he hasn’t thought more deeply about it. Caleb think it’s a bad idea; he’d try to stop it if he could. Both Caleb and Clay feel like Fjord’s hiding a lot. Clay’s feeling curious and cautious about what’ll happen when Fjord finds out the things he doesn’t know. Caleb thinks Fjord’s hiding a lot and is making terrible decisions; “Caleb’s such a hypocrite, because he’d probably take steps to stop Fjord from doing the things that he’s doing, still knowing that he needs to do the things he wants to do.”

Talks Machina: That About Sums It Up:

What books would Liam keep in Caleb-esque holsters with him at all times? Hellboy: Seed of Destruction: Vol. 1, and Complete Works of Shakespeare. It would be a little unbalanced. If he could only pick one Shakespeare play, it’d be Hamlet.

Given the chance, Taliesin would dye Liam’s hair “a blue-silver with a little purple highlight, a gentle amethyst. It’d be good, bring out your eyes.”

I just love that this is a thing Brian said: “Fluffernutter. Does that scare you guys?”

Taliesin: “Anytime you have to roll that many times to get something to work, I’m a little hesitant. If we’re not in a cave next time, right next to people who are taking damage, I’d feel a little better.”

How would they defeat a Marisha hydra? Taliesin, instantly: “Could not be done.” He and Liam concoct a plan involving the right margarita, turkish delight, a pickletini, red wine, Minecraft, and giving one-sheet pitch docs to three of the heads.

Brian’s solution in four words: “There’s a weed drought.” Taliesin: “We once came up with a Magic card just called Pile O’ Weed. It’d just be a green card you could tap, and a whole turn would pass and nothing would happen.”

Molly would’ve had two of the fruits, “just to make a point”.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #talks machina #talks machina spoilers #long text post

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havenoffandoms · 6 years ago

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Chuckleheads in Love

Pairing: Destiel

Requested by @very-anxious-ottter

Prompt: Destiel Coffee Shop AU, but instead of one being a barista and the other a customer, both are baristas in training trying to get the one position left open...

I tried something here... added my own little twist to it. Hope you like it anyway. Bare with me if it’s horrible lol. I had fun writing it though, and I hope you have just as much fun reading it.

In the twelve years Gabriel had owned his own business, he had seen many a chucklehead pass the doors of his Wonderful Coffee Emporium, the most exclusive (and expensive) coffee shop in Lawrence, Kansas. He had had his share of rude, and downright arrogant customers. That was just something he had grown accustomed to over the years, and Gabriel fully expected his employees to be thick-skinned when working in his Emporium. The customers had ceased to be Gabriel’s problem a long time ago.

Employees. Them bunch could be a right nightmare to deal with. Recently, Gabriel had to get rid of his best barista because the dude could not keep it in his pants. The guy had knocked up one of Gabriel’s best client’s daughter… who had understandably not been very happy to his perfect angel girl turn into a potential future ‘Teen Mom’ participant. Very bad for the family name, you understand. Gabriel could not afford to lose this particular client – who also acted as a supplier of one of his best coffee brands – and therefore, sacrifices had to be made. Gabriel had only reluctantly agreed to let his barista go. He had been the best in the state, and replacing his expertise would be a challenge. And probably a very expensive one at that, too.

This was how Gabriel ended up advertising a barista position online and in the newspapers. He had interviewed around thirty candidates. He had only invited two back for a second meeting. Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester, both young, eager to please and ambitious. They were the raw clay Gabriel could mould into the perfect employee. The only issue was, they were both really, tremendously good. Their portfolio had been varied, professional and elegant. Gabriel would be judging their technical skills during a live ‘stand-off’. Exciting, right?

Gabriel went to greet the two candidates before his Emporium at seven am sharp. The shop opened at eight. They had one hour to convince him that one of them was fit for the job, and worth investing in. In a grandiose and dramatic way, Gabriel pulled the doors to his shop open and grinned widely at the two young men standing awkwardly a few feet away from each other, avoiding eye-contact.

“Hello, boys” Gabriel greeted them, stepping outside and letting the doors swing shut behind him, “my name is Gabriel and I own the Wonderful Coffee Emporium. This…” the blonde motioned to the building behind him, “is my little baby. I want what’s best for it, and that includes the most skilful employees. A brand like this one takes work. And like they say, the devil is in the details. Now… you both have what it takes, but only one of you will get the job. Good luck”

Gabriel invited the two candidates in, and went to sit at a nearby table. The taller man, whom the owner recognised as Dean Winchester, stood with his hands deep in his black chino pockets. He would have to neaten up his presentation, but those were details. Meanwhile the other young man, Castiel, was seemingly doing his very best to look everywhere but at Gabriel. Not ideal when dealing with clients, but again, easily rectified.

“Your first task… make me a large Iced Skinny Hazelnut Macchiato, Sugar Free Syrup, Extra Shot, Light Ice, no Whip” Gabriel grinned impishly when he noticed the confused and lost expressions on the two young men’s faces. “Come on, chop chop”

Castiel and Dean exchanged a worried look, but soon enough Dean nodded to himself and went behind the counter to get to work. Castiel soon followed, visibly trying to steer clear from Dean. Gabriel had deliberately left out instructions such as where to find the tall glasses or how to use the coffee machines. A good employee needed to cope well with stress and be adaptable. He watched carefully as the two men got to work. Every now and again, he would notice one of them glance briefly at the other. However, there was no malice or competitiveness in their eyes. In fact, they were furtive glances, almost apologetic ones. Odd. As far as Gabriel knew, the two men did not know each other. It did not take the two boys long to bring Gabriel his order. Unsurprisingly, despite the complexity of his order, the coffees were both perfect.

“Very good. Now, Dean… what could you have done better?” Gabriel asked. The green-eyed man cleared his throat, taking a moment to think of an answer.

“Well… I suppose I could have done better with the presentation. I mean… Cas is better with that kind of stuff, anyway” Dean admitted, blushing ever so slightly. Gabriel raised one eyebrow and noticed out of the corner of his eyes the smaller man glare at his counterpart. Alright. Curiouser and curiouser.

“Indeed, Castiel I really like what you did with the foam. Do you usually draw little pictures in your coffees?”

“I do, sir. Where I work now, it’s become my main duty”

“Very impressive” Gabriel granted, “although I have to say, the flavour is more present in Dean’s realisation. Maybe sometimes you should focus more on the taste and less on the presentation. Clients can’t taste foam-art”

“To be fair, sir, presentation is what distinguishes a good coffee from a great one” Dean piped up defensively, which earned himself another glare. Gabriel was not sure what exactly was going on, but he knew that something about the situation was off. Those boys knew each other, that was certain. What the circumstances were, that the owner of the Emporium vowed to figure out.

“Alright, your next job. Make me a tall non-fat latte, two percent foam. Do not be fooled by the simplicity of the order, though…” Gabriel advised, raising a warning finger. While Castiel’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, Dean once again immediately set to work. The smaller man’s actions looked more hesitant. Gabriel noticed with surprise how Dean discreetly – or so he thought – whispered the instructions in Castiel’s ear as he moved back and forth between his coffee machine and the dishware rack. While the smaller man did his best to pretend he was not paying attention to his counterpart, Gabriel noticed the increase in confidence in Castiel’s actions. Again, the two men brought him their concoctions and Gabriel tasted both of them.

“I can see a trope here. Again, Dean yours tastes smoother, but Castiel your presentation is just beautiful…”

“Thank you, sir” The blue-eyed man blushed delicately at the back-handed compliment, while the faintest of proud smiles grew on Dean’s lips. For some reason, Gabriel was convinced that the taller man was happier about Castiel getting recognition than his own accomplishment.

“I’ll need several minutes to make a decision” Gabriel declared, standing up from his seat, “you guys enjoy your own creations. Feel free to grab something to eat, there’s sweet bites next the bar”

Gabriel vanished into the kitchen with only one intention in mind; spy on the two peculiar candidates. As soon as he was out of sight, he noticed Dean lean over so his head rested on Castiel’s shoulder. From where he stood, Gabriel could make out the taller man batting his eyelashes flirtatiously. The owner of the Emporium could make out the faint voices as he picked up bits and pieces of their conversation.

“I’m still mad at you” Cas snapped at Dean, moving away from the other man, “and I don’t care how much you compliment me, I’m downright pissed”

“C’mon, babe” Dean moaned, remorse lacing his tone, “I said I was sorry”

“Working for this place was always my dream, Dean. You had no right to apply for the position” Castiel accused, turning his back on the other man. Gabriel wondered why he paid good money for a TV package when he could have hired those two cuckoos earlier and get his daily dose of soap operas for free.

“Hang on, this is a free country. I couldn’t pass the opportunity… Besides, you know Balthazar wants to make you manager of his coffee shop one day… I don’t understand why you’re so insistent on leaving” Dean defended himself. Gabriel recognised the name Balthazar… not exactly a rival, mind you. His concept was different, more family-orientated, which meant that the clientele Gabriel did not bother targeting had somewhere else to go where they could enjoy a nice coffee. And Gabriel knew it was good quality coffee… he had tasted it himself a while ago.

“Dean, that’s not the point…” Castiel sighed.

“What is it, then? Honestly dude… Balthazar let me go, I should be the one complaining that you’re here”

“How dare you…” Cas guffawed indignantly. Dean merely raised his hands in surrender.

“Babe, I’m just saying. We need both our wages if we want to keep the apartment. And you have a good job waiting for you when Balthazar retires. Why are you so mad that I applied for this job? I only meant well. That guy will pay a shitload… and then I’ll finally be able to get you that ring I’ve been meaning to buy you for ages now…”

Castiel looked at the other man, his expression softening considerably when his blue eyes met Dean’s green ones. The smaller man sighed in defeat, cracking an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry. I guess I needed to prove to myself – and to you – that I could do this. I know I’m not the best barista, and today proves this. I guess I should be grateful that Balthazar still allows me to work for him”

Gabriel noticed fondly how Dean interlaced his fingers with Castiel’s. Those two were adorable, they really were. Dean closed the distance between himself and his lover and sealed their lips with a tender kiss. A shit eating grin illuminated Castiel’s features, an embarrassed giggle escaping him.

“Dean, stop. Your boss will be back anytime now”

“Who says he’s gonna pick me?” Dean asked, peppering Castiel’s face with kisses. Disgustingly sweet was never an expression Gabriel thought he would ever have to use, but it was fitting to the scene unfolding before his eyes.

“Because even if he picked me, I would not take the job. You’re right, you have a right to this position, too. And I think you’ll love it here”

“You’re sure, babe?” came the uncertain question. Castiel nodded, smiling reassuringly and gently cupping Dean’s face.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m sorry for being such an assbutt”

“You’re my favourite assbutt, though” Dean countered, kissing his lover once again. Gabriel shook his head, slightly amused by the men’s silliness, however the two of them had their hearts in the right place. Walking back to the table, Gabriel braced himself to announce who would be joining his team. Castiel and Dean both tensed up as they saw him return.

“Well, Dean congratulations, you’re in” Gabriel announced loudly, a wide grin on his face, “but before you start thanking me and all that, let me tell you guys something. The key to a successful partnership is communication. Even a team of the most talented employees in the world would be worthless if they didn’t talk to each other. You guys should keep that in mind for the future” Gabriel then locked eyes with Castiel, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Castiel, son… you’re talented, and you have this je-ne-sais-quoi that is comforting and loving. I’m sure there’s no better person to take over Balthazar’s business than you. I will have no regret sending you back there, because I know your skills will be put to good use there”

Dean and Castiel shared knowing looks, and both men had the decency to blush when they realised that Gabriel had heard the entirety of their conversation. The two of them shuffled awkwardly from side to side, avoiding eye-contact once again. Gabriel merely rolled his eyes.

Chuckleheads, Gabriel thought to himself.

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the-real-xmonster · 6 years ago

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This thing about Yuzuru Hanyu which I can’t believe I still need to point out

(Warning: long text)

(TL;DR version: Yuzuru Hanyu is the best skater of our time)

I know I said I’ll stop ranting about things for a while but bear with me on this one. I just went through my friend Chib’s Curious Cat feed and usually it’s a very entertaining and enlightening thing to do, but yesterday what I managed to see over there made my mind go into hyperalert mode, though certainly not Chib’s fault. As it happened, apparently the talking point of “Hanyu is not the best at anything” is, once again, making the rounds. Of course the point doesn’t stop there, it quickly evolves, or devolves, more like, into how he can’t deservedly be regarded as the best skater out there if he is not unsurpassed in any particular thing, and how he’s a “jack of all trades master of none”, culminating in this sentiment from one anon, which was the final straw that completely shattered my hitherto camel-back-like tolerance:

ngl that's kind of a boring goat isn't it? not having that one little thing that makes you extra special? all of the best skaters before him had something but he doesn't seem to (x)

Now, I have tried to debunk this theory before, but in hindsight, I realized that it was likely not the right approach. My, or any Yuzu fan’s, attempt at defending his technique and asserting his supremacy in any singular thing will never not meet with counterpoint from people who wish to deny the validity of his achievements. Let’s call them the deniers for now because “hater” is too polarizing a word and I’m not sure if those people are actually that emotionally invested in Yuzu to begin with. If we get bogged down in their subterfuge, what we’d end up doing is bickering all the livelong day with people who would gleefully claim that skater X jumps better than Yuzu, skater Y has nicer skating skills, skater Z spins prettier, skater A has a more pleasant hydroblade and skater B does that one superior layback Ina Bauer. Skating history is long and the field is deep, so provided that you are persistent enough with your digging, you will more likely than not be able to unearth moments of brilliance that arguably outshine Yuzu’s on any single thing. Those repeated attempts from our side of the table to argue with the deniers on these little things also serve to fuel the confusion, especially in a new fan’s eyes, because this back-and-forth creates the impression that Yuzu’s abilities and achievements are questionable, therefore, doubtful.

So today let me try a different tack in, not proving, but simply pointing out to you that Yuzuru Hanyu is the best skater of our time and no, his worth as a champion of this sport is not up for debate.

First of all, the notion that a skater has to be the absolute best at something in order to be the best overall is childish and unrealistic. There is only one place where a person, in order to triumph above all else, vitally needs to have some special technique they can claim to be their own: fiction, more specifically, fantasy fiction, including video games, comics, manga and anime. “Special techniques” have a prominent place in, say, a shounen manga, because the authors will them to be: they are convenient plot devices to make a character memorable and to advance the story line (practice - enemy encounter - more practice - stronger enemy encounter). Real life, dare I say, is more nuanced than that.

Example 1: Jeff Bezos, of Amazon fame, is the richest man alive. Is he the best at any particular aspect of money-making? Probably not, he is not the best performing CEO in the world (Business Insider didn’t think so, neither did Harvard Business Review) nor the most well-liked boss (Mark Zuckerberg is, or used to be, the most likable, according to Forbes), didn’t even make it to Investopedia’s list of most successful entrepreneurs. As someone who currently works for Jeff (I say “works for” in a loose sense, seeing that he’s 6 levels of management above me and obviously doesn’t know that I exist), I can attest to the fact that his employees generally do not regard him as an infallible, all-seeing, all-knowing decision maker either.

Example 2: If there is any canon that tennis fans from all walks of life can agree on, it is the fact that Rafael Nadal is the best ever on clay. However, if you ask 1000 people (fans and players alike) to name one aspect of the game which Rafa is the best at and that could explain his dominance on the red dirt, you will receive a dozen different responses which, if you publish, will be met with hundreds of different rebuttals. His forehand? Nay, we think del Potro’s might be more fearsome. His two-handed backhand? Um, there’s this dude named Djokovic? His topspin? Well, we’ve heard Jack Sock can spin the ball even faster now.

Remember, though, that none of these queries can hope to erase even the tiniest bit of Jeff’s enormous wealth or Rafa’s transcendental record on his favorite surface. The question is always “why is he so rich?” “why is he so good?”, never “is he rich?” “is he good?” - those would be absurd.

So, coming back to the topic of Yuzuru Hanyu, my friends and fellow Yuzu fans, the next time you are confronted with the claim that skater X/Y/Z/A/B/C is better than him at any one thing, may I suggest the universal response of: so what?

Secondly, let us engage in a thought experiment: imagine if you could build your ideal figure skater, tailor-made to winning competitions under the current ISU Code of Points, which abilities would you give him/her?

I assume you would want your prototype to have good techniques on all 6 jump types. So as to ensure their competitiveness in this day and age, you’d give them the ability to land multiple quads of multiple types in one program. Your skater should probably strike the right balance between strength and flexibility, so that they can both jump powerfully and spin beautifully. Add on to that speed, agility, edge depth, knee bend, the control necessary to accelerate/decelerate at will and switch directions at the snap of a finger. Just as a safeguard, you might think about programming your android with a self-improvement piece of code which gives them the capability to debug errors in the original configuration (such as a lack of comfort with the flip jump).

What else? Ah, you’d want to make sure they have a good musical sensibility and then give them a team of choreographers that could construct for them the most distinctive, memorable programs. Might as well find them a group of first-rate technical advisers to fill their skates with transitions so complex nobody else has ever attempted them before. Given that this is a sport where appearance plays a not insignificant role, you should consider also providing your machine with a comely face, decent height, long limbs, and a lithe body.

It’s a competitive android we’re talking about, so I’d further suggest instilling your prototype with an insatiable hunger for success and then expose them to the elite level of competition as early as possible, so that they can stay fit and relevant and capable of winning across more than one Olympic cycles (after all, this is a big investment, might as well try as hard as you can for maximum utilization). To top it all up, and this might be hard to synthesize artificially, but you will want to try, nonetheless, to give your skate-bot a charisma so genuine and so enduring that they would be able to attract and retain legions of loyal fans who follow them around the world and shower the ice with their favorite soft toys after every skate - a customer acquisition strategy is always a good thing for your financials, and the soft toy rains will give the media something silly to cover, if nothing else.

I’ve run out of features to request. As an afterthought, may I just ask you to consider leaving out the asthma and reducing his propensity for injuries / freakish accidents?

There you go, isn’t that nice? Your skate-bot looks perfect to me, highly capable of championing this sport. He’d better win at least a couple of World titles, a couple of Olympic golds, and garnishing them all with a dozen records. You might receive questions down the line about why you didn’t make sure that he is the absolute, incontestable best at any one thing. To which you can rightfully answer that balance, rather than extremes, is what you were aiming for with this skate-bot, and remind those inquisitors that your goal was to create one ideal skater rather than a squadron of one best jumper, one best spinner, one step sequence expert, one choreographic sequence specialist, one transition master, and one musical interpretation virtuoso, if only because the logistics of arranging for them to skate together would be an utter nightmare.

If the result of this perfect skater thought experiment sounds too similar to someone we know, then, well, I told you so.

You, sir, are a robot, I get you now.

#yuzuru hanyu #figure skating #loooooong post #sorry not sorry

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screentimeblog-blog · 5 years ago

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Who Killed Bryce Walker? A review of Season 3

13 Reasons Why Season 3 shifted the focus onto a new storyline. Who Killed Bryce Walker? In typical fashion of the series we quickly learn that everyone had a motive, including new girl Ani who serves as the narrator for events that unfold.

There will be spoilers. So read on only if you have watched season 3 or you don't mind finding out what happened based on this review.

The first two seasons focused on Bryce and all the bad things he did trying to show he was the king of Liberty high school. Season 3 shed new light on Bryce as he made an effort to try and change his ways and realize all the hurt he had caused his classmates over the years. We quickly learn where Ani falls into this mix as her mother takes the job as an in home nurse to Bryce's ailing grandfather. She quickly becomes intertwined in the web of deception that surrounds the students of Liberty.

Season 3 started off slower than the first two taking time to really dig deep into what has transpired since the ending of Season 2. What happened to Tyler? How would they help him heal? Could they help him heal? All of that was addressed and more and as the season progresses we learn the truth as to what each student is hiding and why. Starting with Tyler who went to confront Bryce after Monty told him the beating Tyler received was at Bryce's command. Tyler accepts his truth throughout the season and shows his friends that change is possible leading to the ultimate question of whether or not a man as evil as Bryce is capable of redemption.

Next up is Tony Padilla. Already having been arrested twice for assault we learn that during the trial the Walkers were able to find out that Tony's parents were illegals and they were then deported by ICE. Bryce swore up and down to Tony that he had known nothing about what happened but Tony didn't care. In his eyes all of this happened because of Bryce because his actions lead to the trial which lead to Tony being separated from his family. Tony spends most of the season trying to keep this secret from his friends leading to them thinking his rage may have gotten the best of him.

It's safe to say that none of the audience actually believed Clay Jensen was the one who killed Bryce Walker but he was the number one person on the list of the police. This thanks in large part to multiple threats from Clay, including the events from last season where he pulled a gun on Bryce. Clay with the help of Ani, who we learn had an intimate relationship with Bryce look to clear Clays name for good. Clay just doesn't want to see anyone else's secrets exposed and once again protects his friends at all costs. Clay is both an admirable lead and a complete idiot at times. His courage is good for a lead, but for being a smart kid he does an awful lot that does make him look suspicious. His new found brotherhood with Justin Foley makes things even more complicated as he is willing to take the fall in order to protect Justin and the things he is hiding.

Then there's the truth. That 3 people directly lead to the events that took Bryce's life. First up is Zach Dempsey. We learn Bryce deliberately set out to hurt Zach because of Chloe (Bryce's ex who had an abortion). Zach then proceeds after the football game to assault Bryce leaving him with a broken arm and leg but very much a live laying on the pier. Which leads to the second and third person. Alex and Jessica. They roll up as Bryce had asked Jess to come see him so he could give her something. We learn that was a tape with his confession and apology. After Alex reluctantly agrees to help Bryce up he begins to swear at Jess and promise to ruin Zach prompting Alex to push him over the edge.

This is where it gets even more complicated. Ani is called into speak with Deputy Standall where she tells him Montgomery De La Cruz is the one who killed Bryce after the game as a way to keep him silent about the assault on Tyler. Standall agrees in order to protect Alex. Monty has been killed in prison. Yet we learn that Monty had a solid alibi. He was having relations with Hillcrest student Winston. Monty was very protective of sexual orientation and even assaulted Winston following their first hook up in order to protect the secret.

It was a very engaging season with the murder mystery central premise. It allowed Justin Prentice (Bryce) the chance to show more emotional range than he had been given in the previous two seasons. He was given the daunting task of humanizing a character that had been portrayed as the clear villain if the first two seasons. At times it was hard to feel any different towards Bryce but as the season went along he did make strides. He made an effort and he wanted to realize how badly he hurt people. Prentice has always been one of the best actors on the show and this was his chance to solidify that. He was easy to hate for the first two seasons and during season 3 he was easy to both hate and want to see do better.

Brandon Flynn as Justin Foley is probably my favorite performance. Justin is probably the most troubled kid in the series and even more so now. We learn he has not given up drugs like he tells everyone he has. Justin often says the dumb thing. He often is the weird comedic relief despite all the negative things going on his life. Justin is loyal. He loves deeply and is thankful for all the things his friends and family have done to try and turn his life around. He comes clean about the lies with the Jensen's at the end who vow that they will help him no matter what the cost. Justin is a troubled character but he has many layers and Flynn gets the chance to show us all of them very frequently throughout this season given that the truth is revealed in pieces as we go a long.

Hearing both Alisha Boe and Devin Druid deliver monologues about surviving sexual assaults had me tearing up multiple times. Boe played Jess as a new found badass ready to find justice for people who may have lost their voice because of a trauma while helping Tyler find his voice without even realizing. The assembly scene where the survivors stand was both powerful and emotional. Druid expressing all his heartbreak and sadness as Tyler confesses to Clay what happened was very emotional as well. 13 Reasons Why has always been a hard show for me to watch as a parent and just 10 years removed from High School. Now my experience of school was not as distressing as the events depicted on the show, I do remember the days of being pushed into lockers because I was not friends with the jocks. I remember being the kid who sat in the library to avoid the halls because of bullying from kids whose parents were prominent contributors to the school and no matter what happened I was always the bad kid.

13 Reasons Why is a powerful show for those who have never felt like they could be heard. For those who feel never felt like they had friends they could count on to do the right thing. It reminds the good kids to do the right thing. It reminds the bully's that you will face the consequences of your actions. Yes it does make these points in the most exaggerated way possible but unless they did that it's doubtful that people would listen in the first place or pay attention to the fact that all these things are happening. The show reminds us to pay attention to differences in behaviour, to see changes in our friends and to stand up for the people who deserve it most. I think it's safe to say that anyone who has been bullied or stood up to bullies or both women and men who are survivors of sexual assaults can see a little bit of themselves in Clay, Jessica, Tyler and Justin.

With the announcement of a fourth and final season I can say that I am invested in seeing what they do to wrap this season. I know both seasons 2 and 3 have been given very negative reviews but all of that seems unfair towards a show that has only ever tried to start a conversation and help those struggling with mental health and their secrets. There is no doubt that season 4 will be just as good as the first three and will continue the conversation about seeking help if you need it. For those struggling don't be afraid to reach out to counsellors and trusted adults.

#bryce walker #justin prentice #justin foley #brandon flynn #clay jensen #dylan minnette #alisha boe #devin druid #tv show #season 3 #review #13 reasons why #spoilers

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qqueenofhades · 6 years ago

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Tumblr is being DUMB and forcing me to ask you to please, pleeeease write a Garcy reconciliation after that evil little heartbreaker you cranked out this morning. I need reassurance that these two won't let anything get in the way of their love.

follow-up to this, because tumblr hates christine and won’t let her ask.

anyway. rated f for faaaaaahk.

Lucy spends the next four nights alone. There’s a mission to 1718 North Carolina and the death of Blackbeard in there, which should be very exciting, and indeed, it is. Garcia Flynn with a pirate cutlass is a role he was born to play, he protects her in the smoke and gunshots on the deck of the Queen Anne’s Revenge, and they have to stop Rittenhouse from taking all the treasure and hiding it (so they can invest it in a few more decades and turn a virtually unlimited profit in the present). It’s scary and high-stakes, as usual, but it’s also swashbuckling and exhilarating, and they’re making Pirates of the Caribbean jokes as the Lifeboat lands. Flynn helps Lucy down, and for a moment, she thinks that this is it, they’re back to normal. Looks at him with shining eyes and parted lips, desperately ready to come back to bed that night if he says so, but something shadowed crosses his face, clouding his eyes. He lets go of her, steps back, and goes off to his room. Doesn’t reappear even to eat.

“What’s up with Flynn?” Rufus asks, having checked over his shoulder that Wyatt is out of earshot. “I thought you two were… you know.”

Lucy gives him a sharp look, though she’s probably fooling herself to think it’s entirely a secret. They still all live together in close quarters, and there’s only so much subtlety (which is to say, not much) in her regular layovers in Flynn’s room at night. “Nothing. He’s just – he’s just being Flynn, I guess.”

She hates the words the instant they’re out of her mouth. They feel cheap, dishonest, when she knows exactly what’s up with him, and it’s not his fault. She shakes her head, and finally says quietly, “Actually, no. That’s not true. I just – I had to tell him something the other night, and I don’t know how he’s taking it.”

“What could you possibly tell him to make him successfully get more than six feet away from you?” Rufus looks surprised. Everyone knows that Flynn goes with Lucy now, it’s how it works. “Something really terrible, like you spoiled Snape kills Dumbledore?”

“No. Not that.” Lucy hesitates. “I’ll tell you later, all right?”

She isn’t sure she will, but Rufus can take a hint. He nods once and makes his way off, as Lucy stands there still in her salty-wench 1718 clothes, corset and calico skirt and bandana, and tries to rationalize. Flynn still acted the same as usual on the mission – he protected her, he helped her, he pulled his weight and was completely professional. If that’s what it’s going to be, if he is going to stick around and continue working with the team but he doesn’t want anything more from her personally… she can live with that, Lucy tells herself. It’s fine. It’s entirely understandable. She gets it. No problem. She can live with that.

(She can live with that. What’s one more loss by now?)

(But it’s him, it’s him, and she’s had him since the flames of the Hindenburg, first as a dangerous threat and then as an uneasy ally and then as a friend and partner and then as a lover, she has had him from the very moment this insanity began, and without him, she is half of a torn-apart creature. Lucy Preston does not need any man. But God, she wants this one more than she can stand.)

Lucy lies on the couch (it’s more comfortable than the one in the bunker, if marginally, and she doesn’t even have to sleep here, but she can’t stand going to her room) and stares at the ceiling until it is very late. Then all at once, she gets up (she still hasn’t changed, she doesn’t know why) and walks down the hall. Isn’t going to barge in on him if he doesn’t answer, but she just needs to know. He asked for space, she gave it to him, she’ll do it again, but this –

She comes to a halt, raises her fist, almost chickens out of it. Then clenches it hard, and knocks.

For several moments, no response. Then footsteps, and Flynn opens the door.

The first thing Lucy notices is that he hasn’t changed out of his 1718 clothes either, as if to hang onto the time where they were their usual effective team and act like nothing was different. The white blouson shirt is open a fair amount down Flynn’s chest, the sleeves rolled up over his dark-furred forearms, and as a sight to improve Lucy’s self-control and make her more at peace over walking away, it… does the exact opposite of that, frankly. A hot flush burns over her, her knees feel watery, and her fingers itch with the urge to touch. She summons a weak smile, suddenly wishing she’d changed after all. She doesn’t want to stroll up here with her half-laced corset and make him think she’s come to crassly seduce him. “Hey,” she manages, her voice a squeak. “Garcia.”

He inclines his head, gentlemanly as ever. “Lucy.”

As even that is the most they’ve said to each other outside the necessities since she left his room, it makes her feel briefly punched. She wets her lips, looking down, clutching her fists at her sides, then jerks her head up to meet his. “I just… wanted to see how… you were.”

He gives her a look which says that they both know damn well why she’s here, but after a pause, stands back with that little flourish he does to permit her to enter his space, and she steps inside, standing just inside the door as they stare at each other in excruciating awkwardness. Then Flynn, clearly scrambling for a neutral topic of conversation, says, “So, today. The mission, it was – ”

“Yeah, it was – ” Lucy struggles to think of all the facts about pirate history she could tell him, or that he might ask. “It was definitely – “

Their sentences collide and come to a halt at the same point as it’s clear that neither of them can get any further than that. There’s another unbearably uncomfortable moment as they continue to stare at each other, until Flynn rubs a hand across his mouth and turns away. “Did you need something?”

“I… no. I just…” Lucy plucks at the worn cloth of her skirt. “It’s… been a few days now, and… if you had thought about it at all, and…”

She stops again, cheeks burning. Perhaps she should have waited the rest of the week, another, as long as he wanted, and made no move back toward him until he did, but she can’t bear for him to think that she’s indifferent or apathetic or just taking it for granted that he’ll come crawling back eventually, that he has no choice and he’s still leashed to her in some way that neither of them can entirely understand or control. Voice very small, she whispers, “I miss you.”

Flynn flinches. He doesn’t bother pointing out that he’s standing right there, that that’s not the kind of missing him she means. Finally he says, “I miss you too.”

Lucy takes half a step toward him, then another, but Flynn doesn’t move to meet her. He remains where he is, arms folded across his chest, shoulders hunched as if to protect himself, until she wonders if he’s afraid of her. If she has returned to tell him something worse, or salt the wound, and the thought breaks her heart. She holds out her hand, as if trying to gentle a wild animal, and finally, slowly, he reaches out to take it, folding his fingers over hers and pressing them into her palm as he draws her closer, his other arm coming around her waist. He leans down and rests his forehead against hers, as her free hand comes up to settle on his shoulder and they stand there without moving for a very long moment. Then he shifts, wrapping both arms around her as she clings to him for dear life, and their breathing turns rough, gulping, unsteady. Lucy cups his face in her hands, close to tears. “Do you…” She stops, tries again. “Do you hate me?”

“Do I – ” Flynn isn’t entirely steady about answering either. “Do I what?”

“I’m just – ” Lucy is quickly losing the battle with the sobs. “I’m everything you’re fighting against – I’m the reason you lost – ”

“No,” Flynn says, the word as hard and solid as a hammer blow. “No, you’re not. You’re not. You’re not. You are not, Lucy. You’re nothing like them. You are their greatest mistake, did you know that? You are everything they could never be. It’s not me they’re the most frightened of. It’s you. It’s always been you.”

Lucy opens her mouth, shuts it, and can’t think what to say. She grips him harder, and he lifts her off her feet, as they sway on the spot and she buries her face in his shoulder. He holds her up with, as usual, no effort at all, and he smells like smoke and sky, like gunpowder and shivered timbers and the sharp edge of a blade reflecting the brilliant sun. There is soot in the creases of his mouth, the corners of his eyes. He is tall and solid as a tree, and she still needs to ask him so much more, she doesn’t know, she doesn’t –

Flynn moves his hand to the back of her head, and guides her mouth to his, and Lucy lets out a little hiss and practically attacks him, grasping hold of his head and kissing him as if her life depends on it. He more than returns the favor, as he walks backward to his bed and sits down with her in his lap. His hands imprint into her flesh like clay, and she tastes the salt of the sea in his mouth as she comes down on top of him. Doesn’t know why he’s let her back in, doesn’t know how he can love her enough to forget everything that’s made her, and yet the fierce and shattering and poignant gratitude that he does –

(Love barely seems sufficient a word, and even worship barely does it justice.)

(It’s only much later, with the pirate clothes on the floor – there’s something to be said for their ease of removal – and Lucy curled bonelessly into Flynn, that she kisses him once more, and realizes it was not the salt of the sea.)

#lucy x flynn #garcy #garcy ff #prairiepirate #ask

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imagine-that-one-thing · 6 years ago

Text

Styles. || 6.

Meant to be.

February 14th, 2015

Valentines Day.

I nervously bounce from foot to foot as I stare out the glass doors that give me the view of Gracechurch St. I’m waiting on a woman, something I haven’t done in a very long time. Tonight is the first business Gala for me to attend, I was kindly invited as part of the learning section of my internship. As explained to me, tonight is about learning how to network, socialise and talk business with the men and women who can probably crush me like a bug.

I take a deep breath, anxiously flicking my loam-grey eyes to glance down at the watch on my wrist. Part of me can’t help but wonder if she is going to bail on me, she has no reason to, but maybe she decided a business gala on valentines day wasn’t her thing.

I don’t blame her, I wouldn’t want to be here either, but if she can pull through with the next few hours I do have her favourite cake in my fridge at my apartment, along with some wine and roses. I also made a reservation at her favourite restaurant for tomorrow night as a surprise. Elise made me promise that we wouldn’t celebrate Valentine's day since we have only been together for three weeks, which is understandable— It made sense to not want to celebrate the day of love when we don’t know what love lies between us.

A smile forms on my raspberry-red lips as I see Elise in a cab before she can even manage to open the door, I beat her to it and open the door before offering her my hand. She takes it and steps out, allowing her baby blue coat-dress to fall just over her knee, “thank you,” she beams, leaning up and kissing my cheek.

She’s stunning as she wears something simplistic yet so elegant. I don’t even know how it’s possible but I somehow feel like the luckiest man alive to have her hand in my own.

She looks at me with her lemur round eyes. They are seductive and beautiful. My heart nearly stops when she gazes at me— how can someone as beautiful as she, be with someone like me? “You look lovely,” I compliment Elise as she puts some distance between us and adjusts her attire. She looks so fucking beautiful.

“Thank you, how far is the walk to the building?” Elise questions as she pushes her hair to fall over her shoulder.

“Not far, right here,” I chuckle as I gesture towards the glass doors to the building I intern in and the one that is currently holding the business gala.

Elise looks up at the building before glancing over at me, “Wait, you intern for Royal London Asset Management?” Her voice is low with a hint of syrup sweetness and filled with surprise as she speaks, and I can’t help but be intrigued by her surprise.

I bite my orchid-pink lips and nod, “you seem surprised, why?”

“No reason,” Elise shakes her head as I take her hand and intertwine my fingers with hers. I don’t bother to question her, mainly because I don’t think I’m going to get an answer for what’s running through that mind of hers.

“I should be able to leave by ten and then I have a surprise at my apartment.”

“A surprise, hm?” She questions with a tone of uncertainty.

My eyes grow wide as I process that my comment probably sounds like I’m initiating something sexual. “Oh, Christ. It’s not what it sounds like.”

My mind begins to race at the thought of her getting the wrong impression or idea of me. I am not the guy who wants to just take her back to my apartment to shag or anything. Damnit.

“What does it sound like?” Elise asks and I frown for a moment, unsure how to dig myself out of this hole. Oops.

I open the glass doors for her and allow her in before I step inside behind her and retake her hand with mine, “like I was insinuating adult activities on Valentine’s Day, and I wasn’t. Not trying to lure you to my apartment in an attempt to… you know.. I’m not that guy, and I swear it is just cake and some wine.” … “only if you want.”

I catch a giggle escape her sugar plum sweet and silk soft lips and part of me suddenly releases a breath and I feel relieved.

She’s fucking with me. She knew I didn’t mean things the way it sounded.

“Are you done stuttering and stressing?”

“Are you done causing my stuttering?”

“Indeed,” she nods with a grin.

“Woman, you’re going to send me to an early grave, I swear.”

“You’re so cute when you’re all stutter-y. I know you’re not that guy, wouldn’t have come tonight if I thought you’d lure me to your apartment just for a shag.”

“I’d never,” I shake my head and look over at her to see her smiling.

✿✿✿

Elise and I have made a few rounds with talking to some people and the best part about tonight isn't the fact that this is a significant step up for my career, because of the fact, I have Elise beside me. If she wasn't here, I can almost guarantee that I would be a mess and standing by the bar with a glass of whiskey in my hand while tapping my foot nervously. I don't know what pull she has on me but she appears to keep me a little more grounded and calm. I can't tell if it is a good thing or a bad thing at this point in time. Time will only tell— Who knows where this road is supposed to lead. We have nothing but time.

“Elise?” I hear someone calling politely for Elise. My eyes flick around the area, unsure of where the person is located.

“Can we go get drinks?” Elise challenges as she tugs on my arm. I go to agree but I am stopped when I see my boss, well not really my boss, he signs my internship hours and is teaching me how to rein the business world when I am not fetching coffees and files.

He grins over at us, “Elise,” he exclaims happier than I have ever seen him, perhaps it is the alcohol or maybe he does have some sort of personality outside the office.

Who knows?

I frown as I notice Elise mumble something inaudible under her breath, “you know Jamie Cartier?” I whisper as she flicks her head towards Jamie and offers him a smile.

“Hi Mr.Cartier,” Elise greets politely, “it is a nice event you have here.”

The man chuckles, “you’re lying, but thank you for being kind.”

“You’re welcome, Harry here was just telling me about your latest global equity funds.”

“Oh, really? And what are your thoughts on that?” Jamie asks with a smirk, his attention entirely on Elise. I frown for a moment, unsure of whether I should be concerned or not.

“Well, all I got out of it was something to do with a concentrated portfolio of global stocks from developed and emerging markets, then he lost me,” Elise informs my boss and he nods his head, seeming partially amused by Elise.

“And how do you two know each other?” Jamie gestures between Elise and I and I can’t help but grin to myself.

“Elise is my girlfriend,” I proudly respond, quite liking the sound of her being my girlfriend. If anyone had told me that the girl I had been drooling over since I first saw her in August last year would be dating me, I would have laughed.

I am still quite surprised that she said yes to me over a dinner date at my apartment that I lured her to. “Ah, I see,” Jamie nods, “well, I will let the two of you go. Harry, don’t forget to network. You know some of these people, don’t waste the chances.” Jamie informs me and I nod, taking his advice.

Elise and I walk away and before I can start to question on how she knows Jamie, I am thrown into a world of business conversations about Royal London Asset Management. RLAM is a UK-based investment management company with assets under management of more than £101 billion, interning under the CEO of the company is an honour, and having the opportunity to talk business with some of the biggest CEO’s in the country is an honour in itself.

✿✿✿

“You seem to know everyone here or they seem to know you,” Elise nudges me benevolently and I look down at her lovingly. “I can see in those effulgent eyes of yours you have something pondering through that mind. What is it?” Elise challenges as she cocks her head to the side.

“The business world is so astronomical, yet so diminutive, everyone knows everyone. If you don't —then you might as well be exiled because you are fucked."

“Wise words from a wise man.”

I lift my shoulders into a shrug, “wouldn’t say I’m wise, but I’m getting there.”

“Humble, I see.” I grin down at her and she leans up and kisses me sweetly, “I’m going to get a drink, I’ll be back in a minute,” Elise informs me and I nod, watching as she wanders towards the bar.

✿

I glance around the room of elite businessmen and women and I can’t help but wonder if this will one day be my life. If one day I’ll be hosting these events and drawing in businessmen and women to do business with me. I wonder if this is how my life will be and if it’ll be shared with Elise.

I smile as Elise has managed to fit in and find a comfort in talking to one of the other girlfriends at the event. The moment that they introduced each other, Elise hasn’t looked my way since. I like how she fits into the social setting better than I do, she has this energy and vibe to her that is attractive and alluring. I wouldn’t say she’s a social butterfly but I also wouldn’t say that she wasn’t one. She’s like a cold glass of wine on a summer day, everyone wants to taste the sweetness but not everyone gets the chance.

My clay-grey eyes transform from their usual grey to a sudden firing red of distaste as my eyes meet a pair of languorous, rapture-blue eyes, blue eyes that don’t seem to leave me alone— they follow me everywhere I go and they’re becoming my worst nightmare. No matter how hard I try to escape this damn sinkhole of disaster, the more it keeps following me and swallowing me whole. I moved away from Cheshire so I could cleanse my soul and wipe myself clean of the devastation, brokenness and bitterness etched into the fields of gold back home. I left Cheshire to forget the memories, the good, the bad and the ugly ones. I left Cheshire to leave behind my darkest and deepest scars caused by my bravest demons. I left to get a clean slate, to start fresh and not have to worry about my cryptic past, my secrets and my sorrows. No matter how much distance I put between me and Cheshire, the demons seem to follow me, they wrap themselves around me and strangle me at my core. They slowly but surely find me, one way or another.

I dance my eyes between Elise and the bar, debating whether to drown myself in a glass of whiskey or whether to take Elise and just go home. I think for a moment or two and come to my conclusion; I’m going to do neither. There’s no point in hiding from my demons, they’re possessed to continue to find me. I’ll handle it head-on.

I make my way through the melee of the crowd and Logan’s voyager-blue eyes meet mine, “what the hell are you doing here?”

“That’s not a nice way to greet someone, Harry.”

“Logan, what are you doing?” I repeat my question, doing my best to stay calm and not cause a scene despite the fact I can’t stand the man that is in front of me.

“I’m trying to get an understanding of the business world. I assume just like you.”

I shake my head, disapproving of his decisions. “Oh, no. No. You’re not fucking this up for me. This is my thing, get your own.”

“This is my thing, too.”

“You’re going to be my worst nightmare, aren’t you?”

“Not trying to be, but I guess so.”

“Logan, do me a favour and stay the fuck away from my business shit and anything to do with my degree. Got it?”

“What about your girlfriend? Is she off limits, too?”

“Logan, I swear on our father's drunken soul–“

“Relax,” Logan cuts me off and I glare at him, unamused by the love child that helped split my family.

Of all the places of study he could have attended, he had to follow me and bring his-our- past with him. It is bad enough I have to see this love child around campus and now at business holdings. I'll be damned if I let him near Elise or anyone I care about. I have done my best to keep him away from my mother and sister, isolating him and abolishing him from all family ties around me. My mother and sister don't even know about Logan at the moment. I don't think my mother can handle the information and as for my sister, well, I am not sure what her reaction may be. It is best if I deal with the love child dilemma on my own; I have dealt with the problem for three years now, I think I can keep hiding it on my own.

✿✿✿

I reach my apartment, and the first thing I observe is my guitar in the corner, my first instinct is to wrap my hands gently around it and to sit with it on my couch. I strum a couple chords and take a few deep breaths, attempting to discover my sweet serenity and safe haven with the sound of a few chords. I spend a few moments just letting my fingers find their way before I discover myself playing the chords to 'I Don't Want To Miss A Thing,' by Aerosmith. I’m taken back to a time where music was my happy place. I go back to the times I spent in NYC at a studio learning how to play, it was a small studio but large in the dewy, mist valley-green eyes of a young boy.

As I got older, I kept going back to the same studio, finding it to be my safe haven. The owner was a loving guy, and always had his doors open to anyone that had a small hankering for music and melodies. Every Wednesday night he would close down the studio and recording area and would allow anyone that wanted to learn the fundamentals of music and instruments into his studio. He would spend hours teaching and amazing young kids with dreams of being future musicians. I was one of the few that always showed up when I visited New York, the owner always seemed to gravitate to me and the way I would play any instrument with such grace.

When I was seventeen, right before I had to start University and buckle down, I dragged my sister to New York with me for the summer, we spent most of our time in and out of different, small coffee shops and stores, and every other night we would go to the studio where the two of us would sit the owner, talk, laugh, sometimes even cry, while also playing a few chords of our favourite melodies. Without a doubt, we would always end up humming and singing along to, 'I Don't Want To Be', by Gavin DeGraw.

It seemed to always fit the scenes of my life.

Those walls' grasp more heartfelt lyrics than anywhere else— those walls' hold the character of others that will never be shared— they hold esoteric talent that will never escape. Personally, those walls' grip the part of me that I had to leave behind— the part of me that couldn't continue its journey when I came to University and became who I am today— they hold the thoughts and harmony of a seventeen-year-old who didn't have an understanding of the real world.

As I strum a couple chords and get myself lost in my melody, I can’t help but think about how in such a short period of time, Elise has become a person I never thought I needed in my life until now. I was fine on my own and single. I never knew that there was something missing from me until I met her. I don’t know if I am just crazy or if the universe put her in front of me for a reason, but she has managed to match the piece I didn’t know I was missing. It is strange and difficult to explain, hell, I presumably sound a bit psychotic. But deep down, I know there is something about her that is meant to captivate my world and change it for the better. Perhaps it is wishful thinking, but either way, I am grateful for such the short time I have been granted with her.

If it wasn’t for Elise, I would have forgotten all about my birthday two weeks ago. Birthdays have never been my thing, they are usually nothing but an emotional wreck for several different reasons. I was never the one to get a birthday party every year, and when I did get thrown a birthday party, it usually ended up in someone crying, whether it be myself, my sister, my mother or anyone else who showed up. My birthday is always laced with some sort of melancholy and fighting. There were years I didn't even see my mother because she was busy working or sorting things out. My birthday became just another day to me, something I didn't wish to celebrate once I reached sixteen. One can only take so much disappointment before it gets to a point where the plug needs to be pulled. But this year it was different, Elise found out somehow about my birthday and met me after work, she waited until I closed the store. It was the sweetest thing that made my heart melt, her simple gestures and her angelic smile was enough to revive the good birthday sensations I hadn’t felt in a long time.

I suddenly stop strumming my guitar as I hear Elise clear her throat. She must have entered my apartment quietly. “Hey,” I beam as I turn to her and place my guitar down.

“Hey, that was a nice melody. I didn’t know you were musically talented.”

I shake my head, “I’m not,” I try to alter my voice to not sound so dismissive but I can’t help it. My love for music is tainted and no matter what I do, I can’t get it back to its purity.

Elise nods and I stand to my feet to give her the proper greeting she deserves; a sweet kiss. “Thank you for coming with me tonight, I do appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” she replies.

“I know I am probably the world's worst boyfriend; I didn’t get you some big fancy gift. I did get you your favourite cake from that coffee shop we went to the first night we officially met and I did cave and buy you a teddy bear,” I smirk at Elise as I take her hand and lead her to the kitchen where I have her cake and teddy bear already on the counter. “I know it isn’t diamonds or an extravagant dinner, but this is all I can offer. One day I will buy you diamonds.”

Elise smiles up at me, “I don’t need diamonds or a fancy dinner, still just need you and your sweet and somewhat reserved self.”

“Mhm, you say that now,” I chuckle as she wraps her arms around me and looks up at me.

“I mean it,” Elise assures me, “so how about we eat this cake and spend the last hour of valentine's day on the couch?”

“Seems perfect to me,” I agree, leaning down and kissing her lips delicately before we part ways and she cuts the cake.

Elise hands me my plate and I guide her to the living room where she gets comfortable on the couch, “so, I have a question for you.”

“Go ahead.” Elise nods.

“How do you know Jamie?” I challenge, well aware that they have to know each other somehow considering he knew her name.

Elise grows quiet for a moment before she looks up at me, “well, we are related, he is my Dad’s brother.”

My eyes grow wide, “your family are apart of RLAM?”

“Just my uncle,” Elise corrects me.

“So, your uncle, who I intern for, manages £106 billion of assets?”

“Yes. Jamie is my uncle.” Elise informs me and for a moment I feel like my world crashes down on me. I had not intended for this to happen. Now it looks like I am privileged because I just happen to be dating the niece of one of the biggest CEO’s.

Shit. Now I feel bad for the times I thought he was a lonely man who didn’t seem to leave his office often.

“What a small world,” I murmur and Elise cocks her head to the side and looks at me.

“That doesn’t change anything, does it?”

I am not sure what it could change besides my career. Fuck.

I shake my head, “of course not, still wanna be with yeh,” I assure her with a smirk and a subtle wink, “does this mean I get to go in late and sleep in for a change?” I joke around with her and she rolls her eyes at me, “no? Fine,” I grin, “why didn’t you tell me sooner it was your uncle?”

Elise shrugs, “I didn’t know until we were at his building. You never told me the company you interned for.”

“That makes sense,” I respond.

Elise and I avoid work-related conversations for the rest of the night, and we make the best of the last hour of Valentines Day we have, cuddled on the couch and relaxed.

Thank you to @harrystylesgotmeknockedup for helping and being a Beta for this Chapter. Xx

#harry styles imagines #harry styles prompt #harry styles prompts #imagine harry styles #harry styles blurbs #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles preference #harry styles preferences #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles writing

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