#can i find an excuse to bring Anarchy back later in the book?

[loopyhoopywrites]

“In case the alarm beacon didn’t give it away,” Anarchy repeated, “the post office is protected by the latest in arcane security systems. And whilst Trickster might be decent with mundane locks–”

“Excuse you, I’m incredible with mundane locks.”

“–Breaking magical ones is a little outside his skillset.”

“If you’ve quite finished insulting your kind and generous older sister–”

“Two words which have never been used to describe you.”

“Your incredibly intelligent and charming older sister–”

“Nope.”

“Your devastatingly handsome older sister.”

“…I can’t really deny that one without insulting my own face, can I?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine,” Anarchy rolled her eyes, “what does my devastatingly handsome older sister want to know?”

-sibling banter my beloved <3

[emybain]

Nightmare’s Memories

I became inspired by...a text post I made about a prodigy with the ability to touch an object and create a sort of projection that shows a deep memory associated with the object. kinda like Millie for anyone who remembers her. 

summary: Sketch’s team comes across a prodigy who offers them help because they had helped her when she needed them. however, they learn much more than they bargained for. 

    Nova watched the medics take care of the young girl, shivering and dripping wet and coughing. Off to the side, her friends were being given a lecture by Tsunami, one of the Council members, on the importance of water safety. The girl being tended to had been having a sunny day at one of Gatlon’s nearby smaller lakes with her friends and siblings when things had gotten a little too out of hand. They were all taking turns jumping off the pier into the lake, seeing who could jump the furthest. The girl had jumped, and one of her friends had thought it would be funny to jump right next to her to scare her. Only they had miscalculated the distance and ended up landing directly on top of her. The girl had passed out from the shock, and after a few minutes of believing she was pranking the rest of them, they had panicked and started searching the waters. The lake, although not terribly deep, was still murky and deep enough for an adult to be unable to touch the bottom at its deepest part.

    Sketch’s team had been nearby. Since the night of the gala, Oscar and Ruby were making an effort to be there for Adrian and keep him distracted so he wouldn’t do anything impulsive. Nova had been trying to distance herself from her team for the past week. The Anarchists were planning a rescue mission for Ace before the Renegades could take away his power. Nova didn’t need Renegade distractions; the more she separated herself from them, the easier it would be to leave them for good.

    Or so she told herself.

    But Ruby had practically begged on her knees for Nova to go with them to the lake for a picnic, and Nova reluctantly agreed finally, if only to make the dozens of texts from Ruby stop. They had been watching the people swimming in the lake as they ate sandwiches and fruit. Nova played the role of supporting girlfriend, if that’s what she even was, and was attached by the hip to Adrian, holding his hand the entire time. Not that it was hard. She secretly wanted to help him the best she could, but seeing as she was the cause of nearly one hundred percent of his problems, it pained her more. Only in a perfect world could she be the girlfriend Adrian deserved. A world where her family never died and Nightmare didn’t exist, where she could’ve met Adrian and they could’ve been together without any conflict that would end in her crushing him.

    Screams for help from the lake had alerted their attention, interrupting their meal. The injured girl’s sister had called the Renegades, but the lake was a way from Headquarters. Sketch’s team interfered immediately, and upon hearing what had happened, Adrian was the first to react. He had kicked off his shoes and tugged off his shirt and all but threw himself into the water to search for the young girl. The remaining three all sent messages to Headquarters about the situation in hopes of getting the medics there quicker.

    Just before Nova or the others decided to go in after Adrian after a few minutes of nothing, he shot out of the water, struggling with the girl in his arms. All of them, his team, the sister, and her friends, ran to the water’s edge. Nova had gone into the water and helped him carry her out to shore.

    Thankfully, she had regained consciousness surprisingly quick. Not much later, Renegades appeared along with medics. Tsunami was with them, and the dark look on her face was embedded in Nova’s memory.

    “Excuse me?” Nova tore her gaze from the girl being treated. Standing in front of her and her team was the girl’s sister, wringing her hands out awkwardly. Her eyes were down, but Nova could see how red they were from crying. “I...I just wanted to thank you.” She sniffled. “I almost lost my sister, but...but you saved her.” Without warning, she surged forward, wrapping her arms around Adrian, who was sitting beside Nova. The blanket around her shoulders shifted, as she had been sharing it with him until he let go, in surprise, and hugged the girl back. She hugged Nova next, and Nova stiffened. It was over quickly, thankfully.

    “Just doing our job, uh..”

    “Sloane,” she said, interrupting Adrian. “And still, you didn’t have to do that and you still did. So...if there’s anything you ever need, I can try my best to help.”

    Oscar leaned forward as Adrian protested, declining her offer. “What do you mean?” he asked, cutting off Adrian mid sentence.

    Sloane hugged herself and looked around, then took another step toward them. When she spoke, her voice had lowered. “I’m a prodigy,” she explained. “I can touch any object and create a projection of a deep memory associated with the object. I heard that lots of Renegades like to investigate, so I thought I might offer it up.”

    Oscar raised an eyebrow. “That’s impressive. Any object, you say?” Sloane nodded. He turned to Adrian.

    Upon seeing his face, Ruby started to protest. “Adrian, you can’t. Not with Max and Danna. It’s too much!”

    Adrian appeared to ignore her, as he remained unbothered. “There might be something you can help us with, then, Sloane.”

    “I don’t like this.” Nova’s knee bounced up and down restlessly. She was sitting on a couch in Sloane’s house next to Ruby. Sloane’s parents were gone, according to her. Her sister was upstairs resting from the events at the lake just days before.

    “Me neither, but there’s no convincing Adrian.” Ruby sighed. “I’m really worried about him, Nova. I’ve never seen this side of him before.” Since the gala, Adrian had been in a dark mood most days, speaking little and only letting Nova touch him. Nova had been to his house multiple times just to hold him. Sometimes he cried, sometimes he just wanted to hold her close.

    “Are the others going to be here soon?” Sloane entered the room, carrying glasses of iced water for Nova and Ruby. She handed the glasses to them, then started moving the coffee table off to the side.

    Ruby checked her wristband. “Um..yeah. Two minutes.”

    Nova cleared her throat. “So, Sloane, if you’re a prodigy, why haven’t you gone to the Renegade trials? Surely someone with a power like yours would be useful to the Renegades.” When Sloane had revealed her power to the Renegades, Nova had immediately thought of Millie, the woman who had created the documents for Nova to give to the Renegades when she went to the trials. Millie’s power was Psychometry, the ability to see into an object’s past. She wondered if Sloane’s power was the same, or different in some way. She had mentioned being able to produce a projection…

    The doorbell rang, and Sloane answered it. Oscar and Adrian walked into the house, Adrian holding a box in his arms.

    “What’s that?” Ruby raised an eyebrow. They both stood to greet the boys. Adrian set the box down and accepted Nova’s side hug, kissing her cheek distractedly.

    “I managed to get these out of artifacts past Snapshot and Callum,” he explained. His armed stayed wrapped around Nova, his hand resting on her waist. Nova peeked down into the box, and her heart plummeted.

    Inside the box were her things. Nightmare’s things.

    Nova momentarily forgot how to breathe.

    She had figured his plan had something to do with Nightmare, as she was his sole focus at the moment, but she had no idea just what he had been planning.

    Sloane grabbed the box before Nova could fully examine its contents and walked over to the set aside coffee table, setting the box down. She gestured for them to follow her into the living room.

    “This is what you want to see?” Sloane’s voice carried skepticism, confusion. Adrian hadn’t informed anyone of his plans. It was slim that Sloane had any clue as to what the contents of the box were. When Adrian nodded, she shrugged. “Okay, then. What do you want to see first?” She began to take out the objects carefully, handling them as if they were fragile. A book that was so worn that the cover was torn off, the pages curled and bent beyond recognition. A babydoll with a stained dress and a missing eyeball; a gift from Ace when she was a toddler. A gun, her first gun, specifically, gifted to her by Ingrid when she was twelve. And lastly, an incomplete invention, a tinkered mess of wires and screws. Nova remembered it, but she couldn’t recall exactly what she had been trying to create. Most likely something to distract her on one of her nights alone.

    “Are those...her things?” Ruby asked quietly. She sighed. “Oh, Adrian, you can’t be serious.”

    “I am, Ruby,” he said not-kindly. She shrank back, but Adrian didn’t notice. Nova pulled away from his arms.

    “I don’t think this is right.” She narrowed her eyes at Adrian. “Adrian, is this really necessary?”

    “Yes,” he snapped. His eyes softened. “Sorry. But yes, it’s necessary, Nova. You know that.”

    “What do you want to see first?” Sloane repeated, voice softer.

    Nova held eye contact with Adrian, her face hard.

    “The gun.”

    Adrian didn’t understand what was upsetting Nova so much. After all, she had agreed to help him. Yet the way she was looking at him made him uncomfortable, as if he was violating her in some way. Which made no sense.

    “Okay.” Sloane nodded and grabbed the gun. It was an older model, most likely from the Age of Anarchy. Oscar had helped him find things to bring from the Artifacts Department, and, for whatever reason, the gun had stood out among all the other weapons belonging to Nightmare.

    “I forgot to mention this, but,” Sloane scratched the back of her neck sheepishly, “I’m unable to create the faces or establish names for the people who are in my projections unless I know them personally or who they are and I can draw the information from my memory. It’s been that way since I was little. I’m not sure why.”

    “That’s fine.” Adrian waved a dismissive hand. “Although a name and a face would be tremendously helpful, we have other ways of learning.”

    “Good.” Sloane offered a supportive smile, but when no one returned it, it fell. She sighed and closed her eyes, hugging the gun close to her chest. The four Renegades watched as nothing happened at first. Then, the quiet room was flooded with a gasp, a man muttering disbelief, a woman expressing discontent. A squeal and a childish “thank you thank you thank you!”

    Slowly, people appeared before Adrian’s eyes. Immediately, he recognized the Anarchists: Cyanide, the Detonator, Queen Bee, the Puppeteer, but no Phobia. And standing before all of them was a young girl with choppy, long black hair and knobby knees and a faced covered by a shadow. She looked to be no older than Max.

    Ruby gasped. “Is that her?”

    “Woah,” Oscar muttered. “Dope.”

    It was obvious that the people before them were not real, at least at that moment. When they moved, they trailed a fog-like substance behind them, and they were outlined by a soft, glowing white. And they were see through, which was the ultimate deal breaker. They were like ghosts.

    “I thought we agreed on giving her a gun when she was fourteen, Ingrid Thompson,” Cyanide muttered. The girl, who must’ve been Nightmare, was too distracted by the gun in her hands to listen to them.

    The Detonator rolled her eyes. “She’s almost fourteen. And besides, age is stupid. A birthday doesn’t define who you are, old man.”

    “But she’s only twelve, Ingrid,” Queen Bee whined. She watched Nightmare forlornly. “Why not gift her with makeup or perfume or something more...stylish?”

    The Detonator opened her mouth to respond, but a gunshot rang out and she ducked, cursing loudly. The bullet flew past her ear, and something far off shattered.

    “Holy bomb squad, kid!”

    Nightmare giggled. Giggled. “Sorry, Ingrid.”

    The people disappeared, but were quickly replaced by a new apparition. It was a single girl, a little older than the child, but Adrian got the feeling that they were the same person. Her long hair was gone, replaced by a pixie cut, the sides shaved and the top a little longer. She was taller, although not by much. Her lower face was covered with a bandana; Adrian was reminded of her more current attire.

    There was a gun, the same gun, in her hands, although she seemed to have a better grip on it than before. She was muttering to herself quietly. Adrian took a step closer.

    “Pull the trigger,” she whispered, whipping her hair out of her eyes and raising the gun. In one quick, fluid motion, she found her target and fired. “They did this to you.” She whirled around, facing the Renegades. Up close, Adrian was taken aback by the striking blue of her eyes, the hard set of her eyebrows. She shot again, this time in Ruby’s direction, causing Ruby to jump out of the way with an undignified yelp. “Don’t let them know-”

    A voice echoed, calling Nightmare’s name, although the name was inaudible. Nightmare lowered the gun, yanked her bandana down, yelled back. “What, Honey?”

    “Some of us are trying to get some beauty sleep! Don’t you remember what I told you about shooting at four in the morning?”

    Nightmare faded away. Adrian waited for another image to appear, but none did. Sloane, whose eyes had been closed in concentration, opened. She blinked a few times.

    “Good?” she asked innocently.

    “Could you not tell?” Oscar frowned at her.

    Sloane shook her head. “That’s a downside to my power. I can’t see or hear it. I guess it’s because all my energy is being used to create the projection.” She sighed and set the gun next to its companions. “What next?”

    “What about that thing?” Ruby pointed. “With the buttons and wires?”

    Sloane nodded and grabbed the object, an unfinished invention of sorts, no doubt. “Ready?” They nodded back, and Sloane closed her eyes again.

    It was silent for a few minutes. Sloane’s brow furrowed, as if she were having trouble finding an important memory. Then, Nightmare appeared, younger again, although not as young as she was in the first memory. She sat on top of the coffee table with her legs crossed. She tinkered with the object in her hands, too focused to pay attention to anything else. It must’ve been night, for she wore a ratty black t-shirt and loose cotton shorts. Pajamas. A knock sounded, and she looked up. Her face wasn’t covered by anything this time, but the dark shadow that protected her identity had returned. All he could see were her eyes.

    “Leroy?” She set her project down, but didn’t get up from her spot. Another figure appeared, Cyanide. Adrian couldn’t decide what was weirder: seeing Cyanide in a bathrobe and slippers or Nightmare looking like a normal teenage girl in her pajamas. “What are you doing up?”

“Thoughts,” Cyanide replied, sitting next to Nightmare on the edge of the coffee table. Adrian had the feeling that in the memory, it was actually a bed, or maybe a couch. “You?”

Nightmare narrowed her eyes at him, as if to say, You’re kidding, right? Cyanide chuckled, shaking his head.  

“Also a certain moody teenage girl.” He cracked a smile. “Have you happened to see her? Her angst ridden woes are preventing me from getting a good night’s sleep.”

Nightmare pushed Cyanide in a joking manner. Seeing his greatest enemy be so...domestic...was unsettling, Adrian thought. “If you’re going to be that way, you can leave. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

Cyanide didn’t budge. “Is there something wrong? Two AM is usually when you go running, isn’t it?”

“Two AM?” Oscar blurted, looking between Nightmare and the other Renegades, clearly confused. “She’s a mad woman!”

“SHH!” Adrian and Ruby shushed at the same time.

“-feeling it tonight.” Nightmare shrugged sheepishly.

Cyanide sighed and nodded. “Understandable. Routine has to change every now and then, I suppose.” He pointed to the mess of whatever it was she was previously working on. “What is the latest invention?”

Nightmare picked up the object, staring at it with a familiar, hard set of her eyes. “Not much. Just another weapon, but I don’t think this model will work with the prints I drew up.”

“You are your father’s daughter, no doubt about that,” Cyanide teased.

Nightmare looked down, clearly uncomfortable with the comment. Adrian was curious as to why. 

“I’m serious.” Cyanide stood slowly, his age showing in the way he stretched. “If he could see you, he’d be proud, little Nightmare.”

Nightmare didn’t respond, so Cyanide just nodded and walked in the direction he came, leaving.

Then, the softest, “Don’t call me that.” The memory evaporated, and no others appeared.

“The doll,” Adrian said before Sloane even opened her eyes. The invention was set aside, the doll was grabbed.

This memory came sooner than the others. First, there was the distant sound of a child crying. It grew closer and closer until a child came into view right in front of Adrian’s feet on the floor. Her face was covered by her tangled hair. Her shoulders shook from silent sobs. In her hands she clutched the baby doll, which was in better condition than the present version. Adrian, lips pursed, knelt down in front of her. He reached out to push her hair away from her face, but his hand passed through her. The hand fell limp at his side.

She was younger than the twelve year old they had seen, much younger. She was thin, too thin for her age. Her clothing, stained and wrinkled, hung off her tiny frame. A spark of sympathy coursed through Adrian’s body, surprising himself.

“What do I do?” she whispered to the doll, hugging it to her chest. “Uncle Alec was my only family. First Mom and Papa and…Ev-” she broke off with a torn cry of anguish. “And now Uncle Alec.”

“Crying won’t bring him back,” a voice echoed. The hair on the back of Adrian’s neck rose.

Nightmare sniffled and looked up. Although her face was still shadowed, her eyes shone with tears and a coldness Adrian was all too familiar with. “Beat it, Phobia.”

Phobia never appeared like the other Anarchists had. His voice was enough to unnerve Adrian nevertheless. He hissed out a laugh. “You believe your greatest fears have come true, but believe me, devil spawn, they have not. You will not face them for years to come-”

Nightmare stood suddenly and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I said beat it!”

“And when you do,” Phobia continued as if he hadn’t heard her, “you will fail. And you will perish, like the rest of your family. At least then you can finally see them again.” Nightmare fell back, as if pushed by an imaginary force. She hit the ground with an undignified “oomph!”. She glared up at Phobia, chest rising and falling from her anger. She tripped over her own feet getting back up.

“Get out!” she screamed, as children do when they’re upset. “Get out get out get OUT!” She threw the doll at Phobia, who laughed more. Her hands grappled for objects around her, throwing whatever she could find. Adrian heard glass shattering more than once. Her screaming rage grew with each thing thrown at her bully. Adrian, who had been standing, fell back onto the couch beside Nova. He was too engrossed in the scene before him that he was unaware of how stiff Nova had gotten.

Nightmare threw one last thing, then collapsed into a defeated pile on the floor, her tiny body convulsing in loud, uncontrolled sobs. Once she was able to get somewhat of a hold on herself, she crawled across Sloane’s carpet and grabbed her discarded doll. She crushed it to her chest, rambling in a voice so quiet Adrian had to lean in to hear it.

“I will kill them,” she whispered with certainty, body still shaking. Adrian had an idea it wasn’t from her crying, either. “I will kill the Renegades for taking my family.” Then she disappeared, blown away by an imaginary wind.

The room was silent. Adrian exchanged glances with Oscar and Ruby. Oscar’s face was ashen, as if he had seen a ghost. Ruby was crying, gripping Oscar’s hand so tightly her knuckles were white. From beside him, Nova sniffled and took a shaky breath. He looked at her, and was immediately taken aback by the tears streaming down her face. She was looking at the spot where Nightmare had disappeared. Adrian reached for her hand to comfort her, but when he touched her, she jumped and shrank back. Adrian gulped.

Nova stood. “This isn’t right.” Her voice was hoarse and shaking. “I-I...I have to go.”

“Nova, wait!” Adrian stood, but Nova held out her arm to keep him back.

“No!” she said stiffly. “There are better ways of finding information. This,” she gestured to the room, “is private. Those are her private memories.”

“But-” Adrian protested, only to be cut off.

“As much as you hate her, Adrian Everhart, she is a human being just like the rest of us.” Nova took a deep breath. She turned to Oscar and Ruby. “I’ll see you guys back at headquarters.” And with that, she was gone, slamming the front door shut behind her. Adrian watched her leave from the window, wanting to go after her, but knowing she needed space. She just...she just didn’t understand. He had to find Nightmare, and he was willing to do anything to bring justice to not just his mother, but to his dads and Max and all the Renegades she had wronged. He had to destroy her.

Sloane cleared her throat, bringing their attention back to her. She bit her lip, looking at Adrian apologetically. “The book is the last thing.”

Adrian sat back down, ran his hands over his knees, and nodded. “Yeah...yeah let’s see it.”

He felt Oscar and Ruby staring at him, but his eyes didn’t leave the ground. Not until the fourth and last memory appeared.

This was a much more recent memory. Adrian recognized Nightmare’s build and mannerisms, even as she laid across the floor with a book open before her. In all the other memories, she had been too young for him to find things that clearly labelled her as Nightmare. This memory was probably right before the Anarchists were run out of the subway tunnels. Back when Nightmare was not considered one of Gatlon’s Most Wanted.

Nightmare hummed to herself, absentmindedly twirling a lock of hair around her finger. It was short, like the memory with the pixie cut and half-shaved head, but it had grown out to just past her ears, making a messy bob. When she did nothing else interesting other than turn a page and hum, Adrian shook his head.

“I’ve seen enough.” Sloane opened her eyes, and the memory disappeared immediately.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Sloane set the book down, minding the tattered cover.

“Yes,” Adrian lied. He had glimpsed into the life of his greatest enemy, but had found nothing. Instead, he felt a weird sense of guilt, as if he had seen things he shouldn’t have. That was just Nova’s words getting to him. No. Nightmare didn’t deserve privacy, not after what she had done to Adrian. The sooner she was found, the sooner Adrian could erase her existence.

Adrian had thought Sloane would be able to reveal Nightmare’s identity, despite her shortcomings of not knowing names or faces in memories. Instead, he was left with more questions about the mystery that was Nightmare.

[thefandomdirtymind]

Sane to insane

Gotham 

Jeremiah Valeska x Reader (Older sister of Bruce Wayne)

Request : hecatemacbeth7 : Could you write one we’re it’s Jeremiah Valeska x reader who is Bruce’s older sister? Both normal Jeremiah and now the crazy version of him? The reader is scared of his new self now.

* Please excuse the liberty I take about the time. In the serie everything take place in a kind of short time who’s not let a realist time to fall in love. 

Being the older children of the Wayne family had become a lot more difficult after the death of your parent. Under the protection of Alfred Pennywhorth, you try to take care as much as you can of your little brother, Bruce Wayne, even if it seem a lot more harder recently. 

Between the little on and off teenage romance he have with Selina Kyle and the insane plan of Jerome Valeska to kill him, you was glad when he finally came home telling you that he has find a new friend in the person of Jeremiah Valeska. Even if the man was the twin brother of the psychopath creating a wave of anarchie in the city, Jim Gordon have swear that the young genius wasn’t a danger, being himself a target for his sadly mad brother.

Bruce, clearly impress by his new friend, was talking of him and his project as much as he can, exposing you his best idea about a collaboration between Wayne enterprise and the young engineer.

“ And you know Y/N, something Jeremiah remember so much of you, you have a lot of thing in commun, I should introduce you soon.”    

“ Bruce don’t play Cupid with me, i’m too busy for these silly games “ You respond, a smirk playing on your lips, amuse that you little brother try to find you a lover. 

“ In fact master Bruce is right, Mr. Valeska could be a suitable candidate” Alfred continu, taking away your dishes. 

“ Alfred, don’t support him please, not you too “ You ask.  

You had meet Jeremiah few days later, during a dinner organized by Bruce. You had to concede that the tall ginger had a little something, that make you fall for him from the start. Maybe it’s was the little extra time he keep your hand in his,when Bruce had introduce you. Or the look in his eyes, when you surprise him at spying on you, when you was quietly busy at reading your book and him at working with Bruce on a project.  

" You are exactly how Bruce has describe you, he always talk about you as a brillant and strong influence, he admire you so much you know " He said to you during the dinner when Bruce was off the table to help Alfred.

"Bruce is really a kind and great brother, you're also exactly how he say, you're friendship is really a good things in our life. " You smile.

" I’m glad to hear that" He said before Bruce came back with the plate of the dessert.

It had take him some time to build all his courage to invite you to a private visit of his bunker and a drink. But, since that night and the breath taking kiss you share, you seem to fall more and more deep in love with the man every time you see him. Soon, you pass the half of your night with him, helping him to forget the stressful situation who was his brother.

“ He kill our mother, he totally blame me for all the misery he had in his life...maybe it’s truly my fault you know.” He open to you one of this quiet night. 

“ Where all responsible of our own misery, you’re not to blame, don’t be to harsh with yourself.” You respond, doing small circle with your finger on his naked chest. 

Smiling a little, he had kiss your hair, pulling you closer.

“ I wonder what I have done to deserve such a beautiful and kind woman like you “ 

“ I ask myself the same things about you “ You respond, putting a kiss on his lips before falling asleep.  

You had pass your day at the Wayne enterprise office, doing your small part as the older representative of the family, when you had hear the news. Jerome had take a full crowd and some important personality in hostage, asking to the GCPD to bring him your brother and boyfriend. In a rush you had try to join Alfred without success. 

When you finally pass the frenzy of the street and reach your destination, everything was finish and Jerome was dead. 

Grabbing Bruce in your arms, you try to stop the panic of almost losing the last member of your family.

“ Y/N, i’m alright I swear. “ Your brother say, returning your hug before heading to Alfred. 

Turning on you heels you meet the gaze of Jeremiah, talking to Gordon. Finishing his discussion, he join you, pressing you against him, welcoming your kiss.

" I'm so glad that you and Bruce are okay" You finally said.

" Me too " He reply. " I think Bruce will need is older sister tonight. "

" Are you sure ? " You ask, looking at the corpse of Jerome Valeska being remove of the car.

" Yes, everything is fine now. I can start to think about the futur." He said, smiling. “ But I need some times alone, I will call you tomorrow, I promise “ 

Nodding of the head, you kiss him slowly.and let him go, joining Bruce and Alfred to come back home. 

You knew at first that somethings wasn’t right, when, the next day, Jeremiah didn’t call. But, you knew him enough to not be that mad or worried. Sometimes, he was working on a project and totally forget everything else. The two other days was, though unusual. Of course, you had try to call or even pass by the bunker, but the door stay close and the phone silence. 

Until one night, when you start to think that maybe you had did something wrong. Catching the phone before his last ringing, you respond the most calmly you can. 

“ House of the Wayne hello ?” 

“ Y/N” the voice of Jeremiah say, making you heart skip a beat.

“ Jeremiah, oh my god, what’s happen, where you been ? I was starting to become worried !” 

“ I’m sorry, I...I’m not like I used to been lately...It’s like if I just open my eyes” He respond. 

“ What are you talking about ? It’s about the death of your brother ?” 

“ Yes, in a way. Let me show you, can you come at the bunker tonight ?” He ask, not really giving you an answer. 

“ I can be there in half an hours” You reply, looking at the old clock on the mantel. 

“ Good, see you soon” He simply said, hanging out without a proper goodbye or a sign of love. 

Preparing yourself, you left the house, heading to Jeremiah odd residence. Ecco had open you the door, guiding you in the maze of corridor, to the office of his boss and what you hope, still your lover. 

“ Y/N, i’m glad to see you tonight” Jeremiah greeting you, putting a soft kiss on your lips. 

“ Jeremiah, please, tell me now. What’s happen, why did you avoiding me...”

“ I didn’t avoiding you, I was busy to preparing our futur and showing the truth.” 

Confuse, you try to understand. For a reason you didn’t know, you’re instinct telling you that something wasn’t normal. But, you couldn’t put your finger in it, yet. 

“ I don’t understand...” You confess. 

“ My brother had help me to open my eyes. He was only like to destroy things. But me, i’m a builder. I want to create a new and better Gotham.” He say, keeping you in his arms. 

“ Creating a new Gotham, how ? “ You ask, now a little bit afraid. Never before he had talk like this. 

“ We need of course to destroy some old things to build new and better one, but every change need some sacrifice.” 

Escaping of his embrace, you try to fight the little voice in your head screaming you that he sound like a insane maniac.

“ Jeremiah, you scare me at talking of sacrifice like that “ 

“ I was scare that you didn’t understand my vision, but soon you will see that I was right.” Sighing, he pass his hand on his face, removing by inadvertance huge part of makeup. His skin, way more white know, fringe you more that ever. 

“ You’re face, whats happen to you...” You can’t prevent yourself to ask.

“ Jerome had left me a last gift. I guess my new pale skin is a side effect of his gaze, my eyes had change too” Removing his glasses, he also remove the contact lens he was wearing.” But the good side is that I don’t need glasses anymore” 

Stepping back slowly, you try to remember the exact way to find the exit. The most brillant man you know had now clearly became crazy, dangerously mad. Taking another step back, you prepare yourself to running. But, the stoic body of Ecco behind you make now your escape way more difficult.

“ Y/N, I didn’t want to go there, but, I can let go like that. Your brother is my, well if it’s really Bruce, best friend. So, I have to protect you, even if it”s from yourself.” The man sadly tell.  

Trying to understand the meaning of his speech, you scream when the woman behind you, totally emotionless, grab your arms. 

“ We have prepare you a room. I hope you will find it confortable enough, even in this situation.” Jeremiah say, smiling softly, speaking of your custody like it was only a sleepover. 

“ what, no please let me go !” You plead, but Ecco was already dragging you, putting you finally in a unconscious state after a strong punch.

Before falling in the dark, your heard the voice of Jeremiah. 

“ It sad, she could have been a brillant ally, but at last, she will not be a collateral dommage. Even if I’m more awake that ever, I still love her. Put her in the room and bring her some food in few hours, I going to take care of Bruce.” 

And then, you fall in the total darkness. 

Tag: @joker-valeska-twins

[homeiswherethestuckis]

The Midnight Event

Happy birthday, @peirette!!!!  I heard you like humanstuck Vrisrezi, so I wrote this for you ;) 

I hope you like it and that the rest of your birthday (and year) are as awesome as you are!

Terezi has been your best friend for years, and your sort of girlfriend for three months now.  You say sort of because even though you’ve both admitted your feelings to each other you’ve never...actually gone on a date with her.  

Yeah, you’ve hung out a bunch since your confession, but nothing that would qualify as a date.  Everything is basically the same as before.  

So, after months of awkwardness and uncertainty, you finally took matters into your own hands and planned a date.

A real date.

Your first date.

With Terezi mother fucking Pyrope.

You have no idea what you’ve just gotten yourself into.

Turns out, you don’t know shit about planning a date.   The “date plan” you worked so hard on ended up being about the same as your usual plans with Terezi.  But you’re determined to make it work regardless.  

You invited Terezi over to your place for a sleepover.  Of course, she said yes without hesitation.            After school ended, you walked her to the gas station nearby for snacks.

“So what do you think we should get?”  You ask, inspecting a shelf of junk food in front of you.  “Chips?  Candy?  Drinks?  Come on, Terezi, I can’t make all the snack decisions here.”

“Well, give me my options, then!”  She pokes you in the leg with her cane.  “What are we looking at?”

“Right now, we’re lookin’ at the chips.  There’s a couple off brand potato, tortilla, those nacho cheese Doritos- before you ask, it’s just the nacho cheese ones- Funyuns, and like three different kinds of Fritos.”

“Hm,” she strokes her chin thoughtfully as she weighs her options, “do they have those sea salt and vinegar ones?”

Your nose wrinkles in disgust.  “No, they don’t, thank christ.”

“And how do I know you’re telling the truth?”  She squints suspiciously in front of her.  

“You’re just gonna have to take my word for it.”  You shrug.  “Do you really think I would lie to you about chip flavors?”

“Honestly?  I wouldn’t put it past you.”  Terezi laughs.  “Get the Funyuns.”

“Funyuns it is.”  You grab a bag off the shelf.  “On to the drinks!”

In the end you bought a bunch of poprocks, a bag of potato chips to go with the Funyuns, a two liter of Coke, and a generic bottle of cherry soda that Terezi insisted on because she wanted to mix the two together.

“You know they carry cherry coke here, right?”  You point out.  “We could just buy that.”

“That’s not the same.”  Terezi tsked, shaking her head in disappointment.  “And if you think it is, then clearly you have an unrefined palate.”

You buy both.

It takes two bags to fit all of your stuff.  You try to hand one of them (the heavier one) over to Terezi.  “Here, you carry this one.”

“Um...excuse me?”  Terezi raises an eyebrow at you.  “I can’t carry that, my hands are already full.”

“Really?  With what?”

“This.”  She holds up her cane.  “And this.”

She takes your hand in the other.

You’re so glad she can’t see how hard you’re blushing right now.

“O-okay, fine.”  You roll your eyes in a futile attempt to try to regain your composure.  “I guess I see what you mean.”

You wrench your hand out of Terezi’s grip and shift the bag in it over to the other.  

“You’re carrying shit next time, though.”

“Yeah, yeah.”  She laughs as she pokes your foot.  “Come on, lead the way.”

You walk hand in hand to your apartment building.  When you make it up to your place on the eighth floor, you have to put your bags down to unlock the door.  Terezi laughs at you again.

“What?” You ask as you kick open the door.

“Why didn’t you just let go of my hand instead of putting the bags down?”

“Inconvenient.”  It honestly didn’t occur to you as an option.  You pick the bags back up.  “Aranea!  I’m home!  And I brought Terezi!”

“Welcome back!”  Your sister calls from her room. “Hey, Terezi!  Make yourself comfortable!”

She’s already kicking off her shoes.  “I always do!”

“Are those toe socks?”  

“You bet your ass they’re toe socks!”  She wiggles her toes emphatically.

You think your sister’s on the phone.  You can still hear her talking, but it doesn’t seem to be directed towards you or Terezi.  Thank fuck for that, otherwise you would be stuck talking to her forever.  

You go to your room, still holding Terezi’s hand.  You close the door behind you to keep your nosy sister out.  She’s distracted right now, but who knows if she’ll stay that way. Terezi lets go of your hand and immediately flops face first into your unmade bed.  “So what should we do first?”

You shrug.  “We’ll figure something out.”

The two of you end up sprawled on the floor in your room, talking and doodling half assed portraits of each other.  There’s music playing in the background, and you have a bag of chips open between you to munch on as you draw.

In other words, what you usually do.

You’ve been talking for awhile about nothing in particular when your sister opens your door and pops her head in.  “I’m going to the library to study with Meenah for a bit.  Depending on how things go, I might not be back until tomorrow.”

“Okay.”  You nod.  “So we should just order pizza or something?”

“Yeah,”  Aranea says, eyeing your snack stash, “if you even need it.”

You throw a chip at her.  “Bye, Aranea!”

She blocks your chip with the door and closes it behind her.  “Later!”

“That was a waste of a perfectly good chip, Vriska.”  Terezi comments pointedly.

“Whatever,” you scoff, “it’s still good. You could still eat it.  Five second rule.”

“Okay, then bring it to me.”  She holds out her hand.  “I want to eat it.”

“Alright,” you sigh overdramatically as you stand up, “I’ll bring you the chip.”

You walk over to the door and pick the chip up off the ground.  You rub it against your shirt to get rid of any dust or dirt that might have gotten on it.

“Here you are.”  You present it to her.  “A delicious floor chip.”

You don’t drop the chip into Terezi’s outstretched hand, instead you wait for her to take it from you.  She leans forward and eats the chip right out of your hand.

“Gross, Terezi!”  You wipe your spit covered hand on your shirt.  “What are you, a dog?”

“Yes.”  She licks the residual salt off her lips.  “Hey, now that Aranea’s gone, that means we have free reign over the apartment.”

“That’s true.”  You nod in agreement.  “That means we can do whatever the hell we want!”

“Yeah!”   “And our first order of apartment anarchy is we’re ordering pizza!”  You declare.

“Yeah!”  Terezi pumps her fist excitedly.  “Pizza!”

It’s a forty-five minute wait on the pizza.  Until then, you’re going to have to keep yourself busy.

“Hey, should I do a dramatic reading of Aranea’s fantasy history book?”

Terezi raises her eyebrows.  “Do you even have to ask?  I’ve been waiting on an update of that for months.”

“Gotcha.  I’ll go find it.”  

It takes you about five minutes of searching Aranea’s room to find the book she’s been working on.  She tried to disguise it as a diary in the hopes you wouldn’t read it (obviously she doesn’t know you very well if she thought you’d hesitate to read her diary).  It’s a boring as hell first draft, but you and Terezi have gotten some laughs out of it.

“Okay, I got- what the fuck are you doing?”

Terezi is sitting on your couch, pouring pop rocks into a big bowl.  “I’m sorry, can you not see what I’m doing?  Are you blind now?  Is that what’s going on?”

“No, I can see what you’re doing.  Why, though?”

She tears open another packet of pop rocks and pours it into the bowl.  “Why not?”

You shrug.  “That’s fair.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”  She leans back against the couch and scoops a handful of pop rocks into her mouth.  “Get to reading.”

You pick up where you left off and read your sister’s difficult to decipher handwriting as best you can in the most dramatic tone possible.  It’s the only way you can get through reading it without dying of boredom.  The thing reads like a history textbook otherwise.

“Should I pour coke into this bowl of pop rocks?”  Terezi wonders out loud.

“No, you really shouldn’t.”

Terezi groans loudly and shovels another handful of pop rocks into her mouth.  “You’re no fun, Vriska.”

“What,” you reply defensively, “like this isn’t fun?”

“No, this is fun.”  She’s quick to correct.  “It’s just not bowl of pop rocks and coke fun.  This is more like nerd entertainment.”

“Are you calling me a nerd?”

“You’re doing a dramatic reading of your sister’s wannabe-Silmarillion manuscript, how is that not nerdy?”

“Fuck that, I’ll show you nerdy.”  You pick the bowl up off the table and dump as much of the pop rocks you can fit into your mouth and then run into your bedroom to grab the rest of the snacks.  

You come back into the living room carrying the bottle of coke.  You open it and start chugging, there’s a lot of fizzing and popping going on in your mouth, so much that you nearly choke on it.

You cough as you swallow down the last of the pop rocks, even so there is still the remnant of a popping sensation in your mouth.  “What do you think of that?”

Terezi blinks at you.  “You realize I didn’t see any of that, right?  I have no idea what you just did.”

“I just...did that thing with the pop rocks and coke...”  It sounds lame when you say it out loud.  “It was a lot of it.”

“Oh wow, the pop rocks and coke thing,” Terezi says sarcastically, “that’s real impressive, Vris.  You sure proved me wrong.”

“Yeah, well...fuck you.”  

“Nice comeback.”  Terezi laughs.  “Hand me the coke.”

You give it to her.  “Don’t pour it in the bowl.”

“Relax, I won’t.”  She raises the bottle to her lips, but pauses before drinking it.  “You didn’t backwash, did you?”

“No, I didn’t.”  You reply, feigning insult.  You scoop a small handful of pop rocks into your mouth.  “Now, continuing from where I left off...”

You  read as dramatically as possible as candy pops in your mouth.  You manage to finish off a few more paragraphs before the pizza arrives.

“Hey, I got an idea.”  You’re holding the pizza box in one hand and the bag of Funyuns in the other.  “You wanna take this party to the roof?”

Terezi tilts her head questioningly.  “Why the fuck would we do that?”

“Because why the fuck not?”

“Alright,” she shrugs as she stands up, “I get your point.  Just let me get some stuff first.”

Terezi disappears into your room and comes back a few minutes later carrying her cane and some paints.  “I couldn’t find the cherry soda.”

“I already got that over here.”  It’s still in the bag from earlier.  You hand it over to her.  “Why do you have paint?”

“In case I get bored.”  Terezi replies.  

You live on the top floor, so it doesn’t take much time for you to lead her down the hall and up the stairs.  Your ands are full, so you have to lean all your weight on the door to open it.  “Right this way.”

The roof is basically empty, except for two cheap looking plastic folding chairs set up in the middle.  You set the pizza and the Funyuns on the ground between the two chairs and then lead Terezi towards them.  

“Wow,”  Terezi says as she sits down, “it’s so nice out!”

“Yeah,” you open up the pizza box and hand her the first slice, “it really is.”

It’s early March.  Warm enough that most of the snow has melted, but there’s too much of a cold bite to really be classified as ‘spring’.  Still, it’s refreshing.

“Hey, how’s the view from up here?”  She asks.

“It’s pretty nice.”  You look up at the sky.  “The sun is setting.  There’s a lot of bright orange and yellow.  A little red.  If I look past you there’s an outline of the city, and over there it’s closer to a purple and dark blue.”

Terezi nods.  “That does sound pretty nice.  Can you hand me the soda?”

“Yeah, here.”  You unscrew the cap and hand it to her.  “All yours.”

“Cool.”  She takes a swig.  

You mostly eat in silence.  With everything you ate beforehand, plus the Funyuns you’ve been munching on between slices, it doesn’t take you very long to get full.  

“Fuck, I’m stuffed.”  You groan, patting your stomach in satisfaction.  

“Same.”  Terezi wipes her greasy hands on her pants.  “Should we stay up here or go back down to the apartment?”

“I’m cool with staying up here for awhile, but we can go back if you want.”  

“No, I like it up here.”  She pops a Funyun in her mouth.  “What’s the sky like now?”

“Dark.”  You answer.  “The sun’s pretty much gone.  There are a couple stars out, but it’s really cloudy, so there’s not much to look at.”

“That sucks.”  Terezi says.  “Guess that means you can’t tell me about whatever cool constellations you see.”

“Yeah, guess not.”

“So what are we gonna do?”

You shrug.  “No clue.  You got any ideas?”

“There’s this D&D podcast I’ve been listening to that I think you might like.”  She suggests.

“Alright, yeah put it on.”  You’re not a huge fan of podcasts, but you’re willing to listen to one if Terezi thinks you’d like it.  “I wanna hear it.”

“Sweet.”  She digs her phone out of her pocket.  “I’ll start you up on the first one.”

She starts the episode, and you try your best to get into it, but it’s kind of tough because they only seem to be setting up their characters so far.  

“Hey, Vriska?”  Terezi says suddenly halfway through the episode.  

“Yeah?  What?”  You’re guessing she’s going to ask you what you think so far.

“Can I paint on your back?”

That’s not what you were expecting.  “Can you what?”

“Paint.  On your back.”  

“Um...okay.  Just let me go downstairs for a sec to get something to put my hair up.”  You stand up.  “I don’t want you getting paint in it.”

You come back a moment later wearing a sports bra and with your hair pulled up in a pretty messy bun.  Some of your hair is still loose, but not enough to get in the way.  “Listen, I’m chill with you painting on my back, but this is technically a public space so I gotta at least keep my bra on.”

“That’s so lame.”  Terezi groans.  

“Yeah,” you agree as you take your chair and turn it so it’s right in front of Terezi, “it is lame.”

You sit backwards on the chair so your back is facing her.  

“I’m gonna get paint on your bra.”  She says, reaching down beside her and picking up one of the paints she brought with her.

“Don’t care.”  You reply with a shrug.  “I don’t like this one very much, anyway.”

“Okay, if you say so.”  

Terezi’s cold, paint slickened fingers meet your spine, and the contact makes you shiver.  She stops.  “You okay?”

“Yeah, just cold.” There’s goosebumps on your arms. “Keep going.”

She keeps painting.  Over time you get used to the sensation and relax.  The paint is still cold, but it’s not as bad as before.  It almost feels like she’s giving you a  really weird massage.  You close your eyes and focus on listening to the podcast that’s still going.

She’s still painting when the first episode ends.  “Would you mind grabbing my phone and putting on the next one?  I would, but my hands are covered in paint.”

“Sure.”  You twist around and grab her phone.  “What are you painting, anyway?”

“It’s you, as a pirate fighting a huge dragon.”

“Oh, that sounds sick!”  You can’t wait to see it when she’s done.

“You’re damn right it’s sick!”  You can hear the smile in her voice.  “You should get this tattooed on you later.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”  

Terezi spends over an hour painting on your back.  You’re on to the third episode of the podcast by the time she’s finished.

“Alright, done!”  She claps her hands.  “Now we just gotta wait for your back to dry.  Try not to smudge the paint until then.”

“How long do you think that’ll take?”  You wonder if you’re allowed to move.  Your legs are starting to cramp.

“I dunno.  Another hour, maybe?  Just don’t lean your back against anything and you should be good.”

“Alright.”  You nod.  “I’m gonna lay down on my stomach now.”

You do it, and the ground is freezing and uncomfortable against your exposed skin.  “Fuck!”

“What’s up?”  Terezi lays down on her back next to you.

“The ground’s a lot colder than I thought.”

“Sit up for a minute.”  Terezi commands.

You do as she says.  “Why?”

“Because.”  She sits up and starts taking off her sweatshirt.  She lays it on the ground, spread out between both of you.  Underneath she has on a thin looking tie-dye shirt.  “I’m feeling chivalrous.”

You lay back down.  Her sweatshirt’s still warm from residual body heat.  Terezi lays down next to you again.  

“Hey, Terezi?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think these assholes are playing D&D right.”  You point out.

“Yeah, well,”  Terezi shrugs, “fuck you?  You have terrible taste in podcasts.”

“You have terrible taste in everything,”  you snort, “fuck you.”

“Fuck you,” she laughs, rolling onto her side so she’s facing you,  “you’re like the human embodiment of bad taste.  And you smell bad.”

“Woooooooow, that’s a real insult coming from you.”  You flick her in the nose.  “Considering you’re the god damn queen of stink.  What, did you brush your teeth with a skunk or something?”

“Oh, so you don’t like my breath?”  She grins as she inches closer to you.  “Do you not appreciate the lovely smell of Funyuns and generic cherry soda souring in my mouth?  You don’t enjoy this?”  She breathes right into your face.  Her breath is hot and smells just as bad as she described it. “This is unpleasant for you?”

You wrinkle your nose in disgust.  “Yeah, it’s nasty!”

She raises her eyebrows.  “I’m nasty?”

“Super nasty!”  You intertwine your fingers with hers. The paint on her hands is almost dry. “You’re the nastiest person I know.”

“Please,” she scoffs, pushing her forehead against yours affectionately, “you love it and me.”

“Yeah,” you laugh, “I guess I do.”

And then you kiss her.

You guess this wasn’t too bad a date after all.

[entergamingxp]

I went Christmas carolling in Rust with a real piano

Quite frankly, I’ve been looking for an excuse to show off my piano skills on Eurogamer for some time – and this month the perfect opportunity fell right into my inbox. A few weeks ago, Rust – the survival game infamous for its anarchy and general brutality – added a surprisingly wholesome instruments DLC pack, allowing players to construct a variety of instruments such as trumpets, drums… and pianos.

This was already intriguing, but one line of the press release really caught my attention. The instruments accept MIDI input. Oh boy. Did this mean I could hook up an entire electric piano to a computer, and play live piano in Rust? I had to try it out.

And, of course, it’s the Christmas season – so to make it festive, and my life extra complicated, I announced to my editors that I would go carolling. Live. In Rust.

I had mixed results.

First things first: the setup. I ordered myself a MIDI to USB cable, a book of easy Christmas carols, and hijacked my flatmate’s Kawai keyboard. Due to space constraints I had to move all my PC gear into my flat’s living room – but the upside of this was I able to easily swivel between keyboards, and have a Christmas tree in the background to set the mood.

Next, I had to actually acquire a piano in Rust, which is easier said than done. The Wheelbarrow Piano requires 200 wood and 100 metal fragments to craft, and players must be in the radius of a level one workbench (which in itself requires 500 wood, 100 metal frags and 50 scrap). Thanks to the nature of Rust, you die – a lot – and I quickly realised playing on ordinary servers would take me days to craft a piano, with a high chance of then being offline raided. I also (correctly) anticipated being frequently shot and mugged – thus meaning I needed several back-up pianos.

To speed things up and make the process of dying and losing loot less painful, I selected a modded server with increased resource harvesting levels, along with instant crafting and free starting tools. After an hour of base-building and resource-gathering, I had my first piano. I then created about 10 more, and buried them in the ground like a paranoid squirrel.

Before I started performing Christmas bangers to the unsuspecting denizens of my Rust island, however, I needed to get to grips with the piano.

In my initial experiments, I discovered Rust’s piano doesn’t actually play like a modern piano, thanks to the way the MIDI input works. It may sound like an out-of-tune modern piano in tone and boast the same range of notes, but without a sustain pedal or proper dynamic nuance, it plays more like one of the piano’s forerunners, the harpsichord.

In 17th century Europe, clavichords were capable of dynamic contrast via touch – but they were too quiet for proper performance. Harpsichords had volume, and a precise crisp sound, but no dynamic control thanks to their plucked-string mechanisms. The first true modern-day piano capable of dynamic variation was invented around 1700 by Bartolomeo Cristofori of Padua (pianoforte literally means “quiet-loud” – although it wasn’t named that until later). Cristofori’s piano introduced a sophisticated hammer-action mechanism which allowed strings to be struck quickly before the hammer retracted – creating sound louder than a clavichord, and providing the dynamic contrast the harpsichord lacked.

Why do dynamics matter so much? They allow for greater emotional expression, but also for the voicing of specific parts within complex pieces. In essence, you can bring out a melody and other subtleties within chord-heavy music which you just can’t on a harpsichord. This is partly why, unfortunately, Moonlight Sonata sounds whack in Rust.

Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata in Rust is NOT the one pic.twitter.com/eqBkQibwzA

— Emma Kent (@GoneEFK) December 17, 2019

The other reason is lack of a sustain pedal – the right-foot pedal allowing for the continuation of notes, which didn’t come into common use until the Romantic era around 1800-1850. Yes, this is actually a stealth piano nerd article, I fooled you all.

Here’s Cristofori looking smug after inventing the first piano. Credit: The Met.

You can sustain the sound in Rust by manually holding notes (which isn’t always possible in some pieces), and you might be able to get away with it by editing a pre-recorded MIDI file to artificially lengthen notes beyond human capabilities. But, in short, Rust’s Wheelbarrow Piano is a mish-mash of keyboard instruments from across the centuries – and feels more like a harpsichord than a modern piano. I guess that’s unsurprising, seeing as it looks like it’s been created from sheet iron, gardening equipment and baby’s first keyboard.

Unfortunately it sounds more like my school’s practice room pianos than a baby grand.

All this means the Rust piano is perfect for Baroque-era and early Classical pieces such as those by Domenico Scarlatti, or Johann Sebastian Bach – but less ideal for flowing Romantic/Impressionist pieces by the likes of Claude Debussy and Erik Satie. Thus, for the purposes of Christmas carolling, I tried to select fast-moving pieces, or ones where I could hold chords to make up for the loss of a legato (smooth) sound and thicker texture provided by the sustain pedal. Not that it always worked.

Ok this is kinda cute

J.S. Bach’s Prelude in C, from The Well-Tempered Clavier

I wouldn’t call Rust’s piano well-tempered but here we are pic.twitter.com/UqbHYnpYMy

— Emma Kent (@GoneEFK) December 17, 2019

On top of these limitations, the Rust piano is definitely in need of tuning. I guess it’s going for the honky-tonk vibe, but this does make singing along more challenging. I also discovered that listening to the piano as I played it in-game, rather than through my keyboard speakers, made the pieces themselves slower. Thanks to slight input lag, my brain was waiting longer than expected to hear the notes actually sound in-game, which led to a more hesitant playing style. I could bypass this for flashy piano solos by simply muting the in-game sound and listening to my real-life keyboard (as I did with my Scarlatti performance), but it wouldn’t work for accompanying my singing, which I needed to time perfectly with the piano in-game. This slow pace would come to haunt me when attempting the very long “gloria” in Ding Dong Merrily on High. I eventually resorted to playing left-hand only accompaniments, as along with semi-sightreading the music and the input lag, it was too much for my brain to process.

The world’s slowest rendition of God Rest You Merry, Gentlemen pic.twitter.com/L32NQ88MQR

— Emma Kent (@GoneEFK) December 17, 2019

Then, finally, I realised I had yet another problem. Rust normally requires players to hold down a key to activate voice chat, which is an issue if you have both hands on a piano. I was later told this is possible to activate via console commands, but at the time, I sped up the process the old-fashioned way by using two items in my kitchen: a lollipop and a spatula.

Why does this look like a Rust instrument?

Finally set up, I started hunting for people to serenade. The downside of picking the modded server, it seemed, was that it was less populated than the regular servers – while the abundance of resources meant the southern area of the island was effectively a PVP warzone. I got shot many, many times by people simply acting preemptively before they were killed. Most of the time, I was merely mauled by bears, or killed by radiation poisoning. “DO YOU WANT TO HEAR A CHRISTMAS CAROL??” I screamed desperately at a player flying overhead in a chopper. They carried on flying. Perhaps they didn’t hear?

Eventually, someone actually approached me and said hello. By this point, I was mid-way through a bottle of red wine, with a terrible mic too close to my face, a slightly laggy out-of-tune piano, and the unnerving sound of gunfire in the background. I instantly pounced on the poor sod to play them We Three Kings. They had the decency to wait until the end of the carol before murdering me.

Next, respawned and restocked with a fresh supply of pianos, I found someone looting a small shed and called out to them over voice chat. As ever, I immediately got knocked down by gunfire. Slightly irate, I offered the only thing I could.

“If you help me up, I will play you a Christmas carol on the piano.”

Despite all odds, that worked, and my life was prolonged for at least a few more minutes. After a very breathy Ding Dong Merrily on High, I asked the voiceless player to jump if they wanted to hear another one. They T-bagged my head, which I took as a yes. God Rust You Merry, Gentlemen started off well enough, until mid-way through I started to hear the sound of a gun being cranked very loudly above my head. This was slightly off-putting, and I soon messed up my accompaniment. Punishment was swift, and severe.

Playing piano with a gun to your head is quite stressful, it turns out.

Feeling a little despondent, I ventured north in the hope of finding a more appreciative audience – like one of the three kings, looking to impart a wondrous gift on the right person. Fittingly, I found a horse and ventured through the desert, where I found someone rooting around inside a barrel. This time, I decided to take a gentler approach, opting for a piano rendition of Ding Dong rather than going all-in with singing. Apparently they enjoyed this so much they were willing to stick around when my game crashed, and I had to load in again. Surprised, I then cracked out the absolute classic Once in Royal David’s City, and waited to hear their response.

“That was actually sick”

I couldn’t believe it – I’d finally impressed someone. “Are you feeling more festive?”, I asked. “Yes”, the player replied. Fantastic.

My work there done, I sailed away across the dunes on my horse, happy in the knowledge I’d imparted some Christmas joy on at least one Rust player. Although the game is renowned for its trigger-happy players, I wonder if I would’ve had more success on a normal server, where the resources are more scarce, the risks of being overly-aggressive are higher, and the island is more populated. Still, the fact I was able to convince someone not to shoot me in Rust – even temporarily – truly shows the healing power of music. And I hope you all learned something about pianos.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2019/12/i-went-christmas-carolling-in-rust-with-a-real-piano/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=i-went-christmas-carolling-in-rust-with-a-real-piano