#emulation saves the day yet again

[youryurigoddess]

A nightingale sang in the London Blitz

When exactly was that certain night, the night Aziraphale and Crowley met — and spoke for the first time in 79 years in the midst of the London Blitz?

And what’s the deal with the nightingale’s song, really?

Grab something to drink and we’ll look for some Clues below.

The night they met

The Blitz, short for Blitzkrieg (literally: flash war) was a German aerial bombing campaign on British cities in the WW2, spanning between 7 September 1940 and 10 May 1941. The Luftwaffe attacks were carried out almost non stop, with great intensity meant to force a capitulation and similarly strong impact on British life and culture at the time.

Starting on 7 September 1940, London as the capital city was bombed for nearly 60 consecutive nights. More than one million London houses were destroyed or damaged, and more than 20,000 civilians were killed, half of the total victims of this campaign.

The night of 29 December 1940 saw the most ferocity, becoming what is now known as the Second Great Fire of London. The opening shot of the S2 1941 minisode is a direct reference to recordings of that event, with the miraculously saved St Paul’s Cathedral in the upper left corner.

The actual raid lasted between 06:15 and 09:45 PM, but its aftermath continued for days. The old and dense architecture of this particular part of the city turned into a flaming inferno larger than the Great Fire of 1666. Multiple buildings, including churches, were destroyed in just one night by over 100,000 bombs.

Incendiary bombs fell also on St Dunstan-in-the-East church that night, the real-life location of this scene as intended by Neil. It was gutted and again claimed by fire in one of the last air rides on 10 May, when the bomb destroyed the nave and roof and blew out the stained glass windows. The ruins survived to this day as a memorial park to the Blitz.

Such a delightfully Crowley thing to do: saving a bag of books with a demonic miracle adding to the biggest catastrophe for the publishing and book trade in years. 5 million volumes were lost, multiple bookshops and publishing houses destroyed in the December 29th raid alone.

Even without this context, judging by the seemingly unending night, overwhelming cold and darkness, broken heating at the theatre, and seasonal clothing (like Aziraphale and Crowley’s extremely nice winter coats), it’s rather clear that it was the very beginning of the year 1941.

Everything suggests that Aziraphale and Crowley’s Blitz reunion happened exactly 1900 years after their meeting in Rome — which, according to the script book, took place between 1 and 24 January 41 (Crowley was right: emperor Caligula was a mad tyrant and didn't need any additional tempting; there's a reason why he was murdered by his closest advisors, including members of his Praetorian Guard, on 24 January 41).

Interestingly, both events involved a role reversal in their otherwise stable dynamic, with Aziraphale spontaneously taking the lead instead of letting the demon be the one to do all the tempting and saving, and ended with a toast.

The S2 Easter Egg with the nuns of the Chattering Order of St Beryl playing table tennis at the theatre suggests that the Blitz meeting happened on a Tuesday afternoon, which doesn’t match any of the above mentioned days, but sets the in-universe date for 7 January 1941 or later.

The Chattering Order of Saint Beryl is under a vow to emulate Saint Beryl at all times, except on Tuesday afternoons, for half an hour, when the nuns are permitted to shut up, and, if they wish, to play table tennis.

The nightingale

January means one thing: absolutely no migratory birds in Europe yet. They’re blissfully wintering in the warm sun of Northern Africa at the time. But, ironically, when the real nightingales flew off, a certain song about them suddenly gained popularity in the West End of London.

It might be a shock, but A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square wasn’t a hit from the start — even though its creators, Eric Maschwitz and Manning Sherwin, were certainly established in their work at this point. The song was written in the then-small French fishing village of Le Lavandou shortly before the outbreak of the Second World War with first performance in the summer of 1939 in a local bar, where the melody was played on piano by the composer Manning Sherwin with the help of the resident saxophonist. Maschwitz sang his lyrics while holding a glass of wine, but nobody seemed impressed. It took time and a small miracle to change that.

Next year, the 23-year-old actress Judy Campbell had planned to perform a monologue of Dorothy Parker’s in the upcoming Eric Maschwitz revue „New Faces”. But somehow the script had been mislaid and, much to her horror, replaced with the song A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square. She had never professed to be a singer but even so, she gathered her courage and went out onto the moonlit set dressed in a white ball gown. Her heartfelt rendition of the now evocative ballad captured the audience’s imagination and catapulted her West End career to stardom.

It was precisely 11 April 1940 at the Comedy Theatre in Panton Street and the revue itself proved to be a great success — not only it kept playing two performances nightly through the Blitz, but also returned the next year. And the still operating Comedy Theatre is mere five minutes on foot from the Windmill Theatre, where Aziraphale performed in 1941, and not much longer from his bookshop.

Now, most Good Omens meta analyses focus on Vera Lynn’s version of the song from 5 June 1940, but it didn’t get much attention until autumn, specifically 15 November, when Glenn Miller and his orchestra published another recording. And Glenn Miller himself is a huge point of reference in Good Omens 2.

According to the official commentary the infamous credits scene is establishing Aziraphale and Crowley’s final resolve for the next season using the same narrative device The Glenn Miller Story (1954) does in its most crucial scene. It starts with the tune (and audio in general) totally flat, then adds a piano on one side, and gradually becomes fully multidimensional. The Good Omens credits not only emulate the same sound effect, but bring it to the visual side of the narrative by literally combining the individual perspectives of the two characters together. Even though they’re physically apart, their resolve — and love to each other — brings them even closer than before. Aziraphale smiles not because he’s being brainwashed, but because he knows exactly what to do next.

Some of you might have noticed that Tori Amos’s performance for Good Omens is actually a slightly shortened version of Miller’s recording — much less sorrowful than Vera Lynn’s full lyrics that include i.a. this bridge:

The dawn came stealing up

All gold and blue

To interrupt our rendez-vous

I still remember how you smiled and said

Was that a dream or was it true?

Which is a huge hint when it comes to what we can expect from the main romantic plot line in the Good Omens series. The original song introduces an element of the doubt — it seems like there was no nightingale at all, only the mirage woven by the singer clearly intoxicated with love, much like Aziraphale and Crowley for the length of the last six episodes. Crowley’s comment in the season finale might allude to that interpretation, stating that there are no nightingales — never have been. It was all a dream. But the version we’re working with here is short and sweet, and devoid of that doubt. In the Good Omens universe angels were actually dining at the Ritz, the streets were truly paved with stars (or will be shown as such in the next season), and a nightingale really sang in Berkeley Square, as the omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent narrator, God Herself, had shown us.

All in all, it’s not an accident that the “modern” swing ballad activating Aziraphale’s memory and opening the 1941 minisode is the Moonlight Serenade by Glenn Miller. It’s a track naturally associated with A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square when it comes to music style and the sentiment in the lyrics.

But why the sudden popularity? In the great uncertainty and hardship of the Blitz, A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square provided solace and escapism for listeners, offering a glimpse of hope and love amidst the darkness of war. It became a universal anthem of resilience and a reminder of the power of love transcending difficulties. By January 1941 the whole city knew this tune by heart, including a certain West End aficionado with a cabinet full of theatre programs in his bookshop. Thanks to Maggie’s grandmother, he most probably had a record at hand to play during his spontaneous wine night with Crowley. We can only suspect the details, but it was was mutually established as their song exactly at that time or soon afterwards. Pretty sure we will see a third installment of that minisode for many, many reasons, but especially because of this “several days in 1941” answer by Neil:

The Man Hunt

In 1941 A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square gained even more popularity as the romantic theme of the Fritz Lang’s newest film Man Hunt. The 1939 story by Geoffrey Household first appeared under the title “Rogue Male” as a serial in the Atlantic Monthly Magazine where it received widespread comment, soon becoming a world-wide phenomenon in novel form. Its premise criticizes Britain's pre-war policy of appeasement with Germany, ready to sacrifice its own innocent citizens to the tentative status quo. Sounds a bit like Heaven's politics, right?

Yes, I'm trying to make you watch old movies again — like all the other classics, Man Hunt (1941) is easily available on YouTube and other streaming websites.

The next part will include spoilers, so scroll down to the next picture if you prefer to avoid them.

The plot of the movie seems simple enough: the tall, dark, and handsome Alan Thorndike, who nearly assassinates Hitler, narrowly escapes Germany and back in London continues to evade the Nazi agents sent after him with the help of a young trench-clad “seamstress” named Jerry, bridging the class divide and becoming unlikely friends-partners-romantic interests. It doesn’t end well though.

Jerry's small London apartment serves as a hideout for Alan when he was being followed by Nazis, similarly to how Aziraphale's bookshop is a safe haven for both Crowley and Gabriel in S2. She helps the man navigate the streets and eventually out of London — by sacrificing herself and getting forcefully separated from him by a patrolling policeman. The last time they see each other, Alan watches Jerry look back at him yearningly and disappear in the fog, followed by the elderly officer.

Unfortunately in the next scene we learn that the latter is a Nazi collaborator and helps the agents apprehend Jerry in her own flat. Staying loyal to her love and uncooperative, she’s ultimately thrown out of a window to her death, but posthumously saves Alan once again — through the arrow-shaped hatpin he gifted her earlier that is presented to him as the evidence of her off-screen fate.

Long story short, thanks to Jerry’s sacrifice Alan not only survives, but is able to join the war that broke out in the meantime and go back to Germany, armed with a rifle and a final resolve to end what he started, no matter how long will it take. The justice will be served and the dictator will pay with his life for his sins.

I wouldn’t be myself without mentioning that the main villain has a Roman chariot statue similar to the one in Aziraphale’s bookshop, an antique sculpture of St Sebastian (well-known as the gayest Catholic Saint) foreshadowing his demise, and a chess set symbolizing the titular manhunt/game of tag with the protagonist.

Aziraphale’s song

Will Aziraphale sacrifice himself as well? Or has he already? If his coin magic trick can be any indicator, we should expect at least a shadow of a danger touching the angel’s wings soon.

Let’s sum up the 1941 events from Aziraphale’s perspective: the very first time they’ve interacted after almost a century, Crowley actively sabotaged his entire existence twice by stepping onto a holy ground and by being outed by agents of Hell, both on the very same night and both because of his undying dedication to the angel. That’s enough of a reason not only for performing an apology dance, but also maintaining a careful distance for Crowley’s sake for the next 26 years. Only when he heard that his idiot was planning to rob a church, he gave up since he “can't have him risking his life”.

That’s when Crowley, sitting in a car parked right under his bookshop, offered him a ride. It wasn’t even subtle anymore. It was supposed to be a date, this time both of them understood it. But Aziraphale wouldn’t risk Crowley’s safety for his own happiness, especially not when he can name his feelings towards him and knows that they are reciprocated — the biggest lesson he learnt back in 1941.

So he did what he’s best at, he cut Crowley off again, but this time with a promise of catching up to his speed at some point. Buddy Holly’s Everyday, which was originally planned to play afterwards instead of the Good Omens theme, adds additional context here:

No, thank you. Oh, don’t look so disappointed. Perhaps one day we could... I don't know… Go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz.

Aziraphale, carefully looking around and feeling observed through the whole conversation in the Bentley, consciously used the “Dine at the Ritz” line from A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square, from their song, as a code only the two of them understand. Not as a suggestion to go out for a meal, but a promise. A hope for the privilege of being openly in love and together — maybe someday, not now, when it’s too dangerous — even if it leads to a bad ending.

Fast forward to 2023 when for one dreadful moment Crowley’s “No nightingales” robbed Aziraphale even of that semblance of hope. He looked away, unable to stop his tears anymore. Only their kiss helped him pull himself together and make sure that a nightingale did sing the last time he turned — just like in their song — this time without a smile, as a goodbye.

[cinnamontails-ff]

Writing Interview Tag Game

Thank you so much for the tag @roguishcat ❤ I love getting to chat about these things.

When did you start writing?

I know this sounds cheesy, but the answer is probably as soon as I could hold a pen. My grandma still has stacks of little stories I wrote (and illustrated ...) when I was a kid. Very cute, but I'm glad I gave up on drawing in the meantime.

I've been writing on and off ever since, but it wasn't until I was in my mid twenties that I decided I'd actively pursue a career in writing. I wrote a few original novels, none of which were ever successful in the world of traditional publishing, then got into fanfiction as a way of rekindling my joy. Once I'm done with my current fic, I'm ready to try with traditional publishing again. Maybe it'll work this time, maybe not, but I guess the bottom line is that I'll always write in some capacity.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I really like stories that are a little unsettling. Not horror, per se (I'm a coward), but those underlying creepy vibes, especially when they come wrapped up in beautiful language and actually end up culminating in something cool toward the end of the story. "Uprooted" by Naomi Novik comes to mind, "The Devil and the Dark Water" by Stuart Turton, and "Portrait of the Pale Elf" by @larvasmoon.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

Terry Pratchett is the person who first sold me on the English language. Prior to his books, I'd never seen anyone use English in such a fun, cheeky yet poignant way, and it's definitely something I find myself emulating (all while hopefully putting my own spin on it). I have been compared to him a few times and it's always made my day.

Oh, and I guess Stephen Sommers because people compare my fic to "The Mummy" a lot. Which honestly, is just as flattering.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

At my desk, with a mechanical keyboard. Not because I'm a hipster but because I have absolutely destroyed my laptop's keyboard and then the shop where I'd buy the replacement keys stopped selling my model and I refuse to replace the whole laptop.

I need a sense of quiet when I write. Usually, I write early in the morning before I go to work, and it's honestly my favorite time of the day. It's dark and quiet, I'm all alone, and the day still feels so fresh and full of possibility. I cannot write in public; I find it too distracting. Occasionally, when I'm very in the zone, I'll edit at work but it's never quite as productive.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Go and hunt that bitch down. I know many people love romanticizing their craft and if it helps them to light scented candles or play aesthetic playlists - go for it! For me, the most powerful tool is routine. Knowing that every morning I will sit down and I will write, whether I feel like it or not. Sometimes I drag my feet the whole time, sometimes things click into place and suddenly, I'm having the best time ever. But I will always put words on the page and for me, there's no better feeling than having written (past tense).

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

You probably know this, but I really, really love stories where a regular guy/gal saves the day. It makes me so happy to see the evil vampire lord taken out by the mousy accountant, the fountain pen striking harder than the sword. I think it's because I like to read about real people. People that you could have met in real life, that seem simple on the outside, but have all this strength locked up inside. It's why I dislike stories with picture perfect beauty goddesses that always have the perfect quip, always take out their opponents with 1 blow because they're just that special.

Normal people are special, too. You just need to look a little harder to see.

What is your reason for writing?

I believe it was Brandon Sanderson who said "Stories are like real life but with the boring parts removed". That has really resonated with me. I think the beautiful thing about stories is that they can portray very real issues and conflicts in a way that is infinitely more satisfying because it's all been arranged just so. It can give you closure, it can make you see something in an entirely new light without feeling confrontational. It's like a really, really good conversation with the author and I hope that's what my writing feels like as well.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

Two things. I love when readers point out specific lines they enjoyed and I love it when they tell me they reread my work. The term "comfort read" makes me particularly happy because that's exactly how I reread my favorite stories as well.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I think the most important part to me is that my stories feel real. I dislike pretentious, over-the-top writing where you can tell the author is trying super hard to sound clever or sexy or just drowns you in heaps of cheap, undeserved drama that never leads anywhere. With my stories, I want things to feel earned. Natural. Maybe you wouldn't have made those choices, but it makes sense that these characters would have and now we're looking at the very real consequences of their actions.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Character voice, specifically in 3rd person limited. My favorite type of narration because I love getting into a character's head and making you see things through their eyes.

How do you feel about your own writing?

I think every writer struggles with their confidence here and there. I've gone through so many cycles in the past 1.5 years, it's kind of crazy. Going from constant failure in the world of publishing to writing your very first fanfiction just for fun and then having it blow up out of nowhere, all these people showering you in praise, only for the vast majority of them to disappear immediately afterward is a lot to process. We write for ourselves, yes, but as a writer, you can't help but take reader responses to heart. Fortunately, I've never let it influence what I write or how I write; it really only affects my mental state. I know what I like to read and those are the stories I am going to tell, whether they're successful or not.

Aww, this was fun! Tagging @larvasmoon @davenswitcher @pickel182 @karinamay @pouroverpaloma ❤ ❤ ❤

[aziraphales-library]

hello lovelies!! thank you all so much for all the work that you do!! y’all really are lifesavers.

i was wondering if you had any recommendations for fics that emulate the style of the original book/have a Pratchett-y vibe (footnotes, humour, structure, etc.)? i’d be especially interested in ones that are in this style but exist in the show’s canon rather than the book’s, but I wouldn’t mind either way!

We have a #footnotes tag, please check that out. Here are more fics with footnotes...

A Lot of Space Between Your Ears by nerdsandthelike (G)

“And you expect us to just waltz into Heaven, rob the archives, and walk back out?” “Yes.” “No.” Nearly a year after they successfully stopped the world from ending, Heaven obtains evidence that would result in Aziraphale being recalled from Earth. Crowley and Aziraphale decide to steal it back.

DIY How to build your own Garden of Eden by ximeria (T)

Post-not-end-of-days Crowley feels a change is needed, but he can't do it alone. Not to mention, he's not entirely sure what it is, this nebulous thing that he wants. He just knows it involves Aziraphale.

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by divisionten (T)

“Well, Pulsifer, I can say with confidence I know exactly what’s wrong with your car.” “Oh? What’s wrong?” Newt peered down, looking at the undercarriage, as most people do who want to help but have absolutely no skill in basic car repair. “It’s shit.” (An anthology collection of the times Anthony J. Crowley, retired demon and occasional slumber party guest, and Aziraphale, forcefully instated Guardian Angel of the downtrodden, get summoned to deal with humanity.)

Yes and Please and Thank You by WyvernQuill (T)

"Go to alpha centauri, for all I care! Go now, this very instant, and never return, do you hear me, Crowley? Never!" Due to Crowley's firm conviction that "he need never know", Aziraphale has, for all the time they've known each other, been blissfully unaware of the obedience curse Crowley's been looping holes around since 4004 BC. You can't really blame him, is the point. Aziraphale had no idea what his unthinking words might do, and is already planning to apologise profusely at dinner... ...which might get a little tricky, seeing as Crowley has just been sighted in the vicinity of Pluto, and has concrete orders to never show his face on earth. Ever. Again.

Demon in Heaven, Angel in Hell by Hexqueen517 (T)

When the world ends, Aziraphale will be called back to Heaven and Crowley will be banished back to Hell, separated for eternity - unless they’re willing to listen to Beelzebub and Gabriel’s plan. Which is Beelzebub’s plan, of course, but they need Gabriel to act as a shield against plant misters filled with holy water. But not everyone in Heaven and Hell is on board with Beelzebub and Gabriel’s leadership. When everyone at the top of the Ineffable Bureaucracy has their own ambitions, the chances of averting apocalypse yet again may seem random. You never know who will come out on top when the dice begin to roll …

i have spent all my years in believing you by braveatironheart (M)

This is the story of how Aziraphale and Crowley inadvertently end the war between Heaven and Hell. The story of how they – indirectly, at least – avert the Apocalypse is in there, too, but I suspect you already know that one. If pressed and in an uncharacteristically honest mood, Crowley would have to admit he’d fallen for Aziraphale in the Garden of Eden. Things were not so straightforward for Aziraphale, who spent six millennia trying to ignore his growing fondness for the demon. He supposed the first time he’d felt drawn to Crowley would have been in Rome, eight years after the death of Christ. And what had he done? Invited him to lunch. It was no wonder, really, that he kissed him two thousand years later. How else was one to respond when one’s hereditary enemy saved one’s life and one’s books? 5945 years after they meet, Crowley and Aziraphale confess their love for one another. They certainly aren’t going to let anything get in the way, no matter what Heaven and Hell throw at them. aka Good Omens, except the only plot is Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship. Complete with original, lockdown-era plot.

- Mod D

[skyloftian-nutcase]

It was a particularly dark night tonight as the moon was hidden by clouds in the sky. The castle halls were silent, save for the occasional chatter of those on the night shift, guards and the few servants who were on call trying to stay awake.

The barracks were equally silent, though the song of crickets trickled in from outside and the snores of some soldiers and knights carried across the way. The Hero of Hyrule didn't notice, completely dead to the world.

He didn't notice as someone entered the room. He didn't notice as they pulled up a chair beside his bed, as they gently brushed hair out of his face. Link sighed a little, leaning into the touch, before it disappeared, tucking him a little.

The captain of the royal guard watched his son silently.

A heavy feeling pulled in his chest, and Abel tried to ignore it. Seeing Link sleep reminded him of when he was a little boy, but that boy was full grown now. Abel and Link saw each other fairly regularly when the young man was in the castle, but they hardly ever spoke - each had their own duties to attend to, and Abel knew his strong sense of obligation had been emulated by his son.

That was a good thing. It was. Link was an amazing knight, was renowned by the entire country, was chosen by the goddess. Abel was proud of him.

But proud as he was, he still missed his boy. He still wished he could spend time with him. It hurt, that they could be so close yet so far. Most days it made him happy to see Link fulfilling his role. But some nights it made his heart ache. So here he sat, basking in the comfort of being able to take care of someone who didn't need his care anymore.

Wasn't that the role of a parent? To raise their child so that they wouldn't need them? To make them a good person, a capable individual, someone who fulfilled their destiny set out by the goddess, someone who loved and fought and cared? Link was all of those things. He didn't need his father's help anymore.

Abel swallowed thickly. It was fine. This was enough. Just seeing him safe and comfortable was enough. The captain knew he was nowhere near as important as his boy, and he tried to stay out of his way. So this had to be enough.

Tomorrow Link would leave again, going on another journey with Princess Zelda. Supposedly, with her seventeenth birthday coming up, they were headed for Mount Lanayru for a final attempt to awaken her powers. Abel prayed it work. He didn't know the princess well, but based on his observations the girl needed all the help she could get.

This was his last chance to see Link again before they returned from their trip. So he would bask in it without being overbearing. His boy was a grown man now, and he didn't need him.

But sometimes, Abel found that... he still needed Link.

Sighing, he rested his hand on his son's back for a moment before rising. Perhaps someday he himself would grow out of this too. Either way, he needed to get some sleep. There was always work to be done.

He'd see his boy again when they returned, safe and sound as always.

[cidthesquid]

Closing the Book on Fashion Forward! (Mini Review+Personal Story) Post #5

[Previous Post]              [First Post]            [TrendSetter] Yes, yes, I'm aware, this is the 3rd “I've finish Style Savvy FF" post! But This time it's for real, I completed the (spoilers) event, and I've even transferred my save off the emulator for long-term storage on the game cart! [My adventure spanned from 11/04/23 - 12/26/23]

Here are my last few outfits! (mini-review to follow!)

Overall, had a ton of fun with this game! It was one of the most memorable gaming experiences I've had in years. But it was not without it's hiccups, the most obvious being how events are handled, At times you'll have to wait for the correct person to pop-up to progress the plot, and sometimes they just refuse to show up. The Real time clock is a neat addition, with a season system for fashion shows, shop inventory, and for some slight weather features. it's FAR less strict than in games like animal crossing, but it can make unlocking some content really annoying, since you have to wait a real-world day for shops to refresh, and some in-game locations are locked out for different based on the time. But it by no means hampers you from enjoying the game's core loop. (Nigh owls rejoice) I could also complain about unlocking colors and hairstyles and makeup, as they all feel pretty random without a guide. But again these are all just extra. The core gameplay loop of managing inventory, designing outfits, and matching style to your customer was absolutely top notch! Even on my last day, I ended up coming with at least two new ones when I thought I'd exaused all options. The only snag with this, is after a fashion show, everyone will get excited about the theme, and will demand that you only make outfits in that specific style for multiple days afterwards, so that can get a little repetitive. But other than that, the core designing has been more fun than I thought possible! (Personal story relayed to SS, after the break!)

Alright, well since this will be my last post for a little while, (I'll take a short break before starting trendsetters) I figured I'd talk a little about why Style Savvy means soo much to me. (It's SUPER long, and get's a little personal, but you've been warned!) In short, I've always been a bit self-conscious about how I present myself in games. I'm a guy, and generally only play as guy characters designed to look as much like me as possible, Not because it's more 'immersive', or that that's because I'm most comfortable with, but because it would mean less 'uncomftable questions' from others, Yet I'd still get comments such as "that doesn't look like you", why'd you choose that.. weight/height/ hairstyle/skin tone/etc, that's not accurate"!

And that, mixed with many offhanded comments about how others chose to dress their characters, (and the possible reasons why they chose 'a specific outfit', applying a negative connotation to even the idea of a guy playing as a female character) It kinda enforced in my mind, that even wanting to play as a cool, cute or even sassy female character was just creepy in some way. So for a long time, I just avoided it my making all my main characters as close to myself as possible, but even having a female side/alt directly based of an existing TV show/game character would still cause some sarcastic remarks, so I just stopped using them in any multiplayer games, and stuck with my main. Eventually i stated playing Final Fantasy XIV and made my standard character, but the friend that introduced me to the game decided he had no interested in playing the start of the game again, and the few others I planned to play with were always busy, so I decided to make a female side character, and came up with a design I liked and ended up playing as them a lot, while waiting for others to be free. In Final Fantasy, I picked up crafting, and started making my own armor and clothing, and for the first time, I was actually designing outfits for an original female character! and began really enjoying the various outfits I could make, and mixing pieces for new looks It still felt kinda weird, I'd never cared about how other people designed or dressed their characters, but it still felt 'wrong' for me somehow, (Like I was enforcing my own will on them, deciding how they dress. as silly as it sounds) The compromise was making a few alt characters, giving each a style an personality, and just sticking to only designing within "what they would actually wear"

That allowed me to be much more comfortable designing in various styles, but I still felt a little weird making specific styles, as I was worried about how it would be precived by other players. ...And eventually 'Fashion Dreamer' released it looked interesting, looking it up online introduced me to 'Style Savvy', So I gave Fashion Forward a Shot, and fell in love with the game. It let me designed outfits my and other characters, but removed all the previous sources of anxiety! I did not have to worry about anyone else's feelings, no one in the game cared about who I was or how I looked in real life, I was not taking away anyone elses control, they decide they want to look cute/cool/feminine, and I'm just helping them achieve their goal. I could look however I want, and it would never bother anyone or make them feel uncomfortable. The people in the world were all very nice and friendly, and while they may be fake, the positive improvement the game has had on my live has been very real! The game may not be a teaching tool, but I still feel I've learned a fair bit about the basics of fashion and outfit customization. and I feel more confident in not just my designs, but how I feel about making characters in general! ...I mean to a point. I did completely redesign my avatar when I started posting here, as I was worried about what people would think, of my working with an avatar that appeared to be of a different race, ....despite me never posting any IRL pics... ...But, baby steps, I have to start somewhere! Click here for my bonus post: Fashion Forward x Final Fantasy XIV (Click here for my blog of playing through my Style Savvy TrendSetters!) --- Thanks Syn Sophia, this game has truly changed my life for the better! :)

[heliads]

One Mission

Based on this request: "can you do an avengers x teen!reader where the reader is 14 and the avengers don’t want her to go on a mission and they get kidnapped and she saves them"

masterlist

It is impossibly cruel to put a girl such as yourself in a position such as this and expect her to do absolutely nothing at all, yet that is the predicament you find yourself in at the moment. The Avengers had always been a far-fetched dream of yours, some golden vision verging on paradise. It seemed as if all of your problems would be solved the second you stepped foot in Avengers Tower and could call yourself a part of the team.

After a year of official Avengers status, however, you think you’d factor in a new and wholly important clause to such a declaration. It is beyond wonderful to be a part of the Avengers, of course, but only when they actually let you do things. Things to do would include being able to train with the other agents without them being terrified of hurting you, not having Tony bring up the fact that you should be doing your homework every other hour, and oh, you know, being able to actually go on missions like you were meant to do in the first place.

Truth be told, it’s been wearing on you for a while. You know you shouldn’t complain. A thousand kids would kill for a chance like this. You’ve lost track of the number of times your friends from school have begged you to let them walk around Avengers Tower, or meet Black Widow, or experience any one of the countless little details that makes up life on the team. You mention a team bonding Monopoly session once and they’re practically turning green. From jealousy, not rage, of course. They may adore Bruce Banner with all their hearts, but not enough to try and emulate his career path.

You are happy with the Avengers, truly you are. They go out of their way to make sure you’re having a good time. You think they feel guilty in some part for what has become of you. You became an inhuman after a freak accident, and now you’re stuck with the weird life you lead. You’d be lying if you said that the Avengers didn’t hold themselves responsible in at least some way. 

After all, if they’re supposed to be protecting the world from unusual activity like what gave you powers, what happened to you should never have happened at all. Even if they weren’t aware of the incident at the time, their lapse in being able to keep the entire world population safe led to you never being able to lead a normal human life again.

Obviously, the logic is a bit lacking there, but that’s what they feel nonetheless. You’ve made your peace with your newfound extraordinary abilities, but you might be the only one. It feels like some days you’ll only ever be a poster child for what happens when the Avengers don’t commit to their job and follow all the rules. They slip up, people get hurt, and that includes kids like you.

That’s not the way you see it, of course, but the fact remains. The Avengers treat you like you’re a window of stained glass– wonderful, to be sure, bright and cheerful, but breakable at the slightest touch. When you first joined the team, you were filled with hopes about doing missions all the time, proving yourself to be as valuable as you saw yourself.

It’s been about a year now since your first day, and that dream has been swiftly crushed underfoot. You think you’ve gone on about two missions total, and given the fact that opportunities for such assignments seem to come up at least once a week if not more, that number’s a little disappointing, to say the least. 

You’ve brought this up with Tony and Steve and the rest about a thousand times, but they say the same things every single instance they can. You’re too young, too experienced. The real world out there isn’t going to be pulling their punches like your instructors. You point to that as a reason that your teachers should stop babying you so you can be ready for what will actually come your way, but they just shake their heads and laugh. Maybe when you’re older, you can join the team on their missions. Until then, you’re going to be left behind, abandoned to the intermittent radio reports and the thrill of looking over the shoulders of the S.H.I.E.L.D. teams hired to watch the team’s progress.

Obviously it gnaws at you. Being told to wait is infuriating, especially given the fact that you’ve already done a year of it. All of these people are on this team because they started too young, because they were forced to confront the world and its injustices far too early. You know they’re just trying to protect you from what they had to go through, but you’ve already faced your fire and brimstone beginning. There’s no way you can leave this life, so you might as well commit to it, right?

That’s what you tell yourself, at least. It still burns like acid at the back of your throat when the Avengers bring up their latest missions. They talk about it over meals and in the halls. Every word seems to strike you like a paper airplane launched by a coming-of-age movie villain, the bully in class who can’t seem to leave you alone. Every single moment spent in the Avengers complex reminds you of the fact that they’re not going to trust you to actually do your job until you’re too old and jaded to care about going on missions anymore. All you wanted to do was save the world. Surely your own team shouldn’t be getting in the way of that, right?

The Avengers are heading out again this morning. There’s a HYDRA base tucked away in the mountains somewhere, another one in a string of what feels like hundreds. You cut off one head and two shall take its place, indeed. This excursion should be at least a little more exciting than normal– you’ve heard there’s an inhuman on the enemy base, one given to leaving S.H.I.E.L.D. agents mangled and bloody whenever someone tries to rid the complex of HYDRA foes.

That’s why the team has been called in. As per usual, you begged to be allowed to go along, and as per usual, you were denied. It’s too dangerous, obviously. They do take pity on you and allow you to ride in the Quinjet with them to the base, but only after extracting promises from all the agents on board that you won’t be allowed to leave the ship, which will be parked very far away from the scene of the drama. It’s a terrible compromise, but it makes the other Avengers feel like they’re not locking you up in the tower, so it’s going to have to do for now.

Sighing, you adjust your earpiece and watch the holographic display of their progress along with the other agents. The team left the Quinjet about half an hour ago and are on the edge of the HYDRA base now, just making their way inside. They had to take out a few patrols along the way, but no alarms have gone off quite yet.

This tentative peace is blown once they step foot inside the walls, however. The base, supposedly only half occupied, is practically full to bursting with enemy agents. You watch as your team launches themselves at the waves of HYDRA forces gunning for them, occasional radio transmissions crackling through your earpiece with calls for aid and directions to head towards a nearby source of shelter from the endless waves of bullets spiraling their way. 

The Avengers are able to fight their way into a nearby radio control room and bar the door, but it’s clear that the situation isn’t good. If they can make their way into a central control room a few halls down, they can shut down the base, but that’s going to take a lot of luck.

Luck which, by the way, they don’t seem to have. The Avengers rally and force their way back into the surrounding corridors, but they only make it halfway to the control room before they’re greeted with a new, certainly not friendly, face. The HYDRA inhuman is a menace, you can tell that from the blurry camera streams if not the collection of curses that ricochet through the team comms. The guy is massive, his head practically touching the ceiling as he glowers down at the Avengers. When he raises his hands, he can conjure up a tower of fire just as tall as him that rushes down the hall towards your team.

The Avengers give it their all, but when they’re so severely outnumbered in such cramped quarters, there isn’t a whole lot they can do. They’re taken alive, at least, and marched to a row of cells in the basement of the HYDRA base. The last thing you hear before the comms lose their signal is that HYDRA was expecting them, and that’s that.

You stare at the other agents, who all seem to be in a similar state of shock. The Avengers don’t mess up, they just don’t. They never lose. This is stunning.

A thought occurs to you, the only solution. “You have to send me in.”

The agent in charge of monitoring the mission shakes her head. “Not a chance. We swore to Tony that we’d keep you safe.”

“And Tony’s doing such a great job of keeping the rest of the team safe, isn’t he? Look, you heard what they said. HYDRA was expecting the Avengers, now they’ve got them locked up. They don’t think anyone else is coming, certainly not me. We have to hit now while they still think they have time before S.H.I.E.L.D. comes to collect. Let me go,” you reason.

The agents exchange glances. “It’s not a bad plan,” one of them admits at last, “but I think you’re missing the point that the rest of the Avengers couldn’t get in. What makes you think that you can do it all by yourself?”

“Easy,” you declare, “I’ve got something to prove.”

They don’t seem to like that as a battle plan, but seeing as losing the Avengers would look really, really bad in a mission report, the agents eventually sigh and agree to let you out. No one wants to be the one to call Director Fury and admit that the other Avengers are all sitting pretty in HYDRA cells, so letting the resident teenager handle the problem sounds good to the rest of them.

It sounds good to you, too. You brought your armor in the off chance that everyone might come to their senses and let you on the mission, so you’re able to be ready in a matter of minutes. You’re given a live camera and your comms are double checked, and then you’re off, hurrying through the surrounding area on the way to rescue your team.

Despite the pressing danger, you can’t stop a delighted grin from crossing your face. This is what you’ve always wanted, a chance to prove that you can do this, you can take part in the missions. They’ve been doubting you all this time, and now you’re on your way to save them all from certain doom. Sure, the situation isn’t looking great right now, but you can at least admit that this feels pretty freaking fantastic.

Your hunch was spot on, and when you scale the walls of the HYDRA complex, you’re pleased to note that the waves of enemy agents that had been waiting for the Avengers to arrive are nowhere to be seen. They’re all inside, toasting the fact that they’ve been able to do the impossible and capture the Avengers. Your uniform is nondescript, so you’re able to slip inside so long as you just walk around like you’re supposed to be there.

Sticking to the shadows, you make your way down to the cells in the basement. You haven’t run into the HYDRA inhuman yet, which is great, although you have no doubt that he’s lurking about somewhere. Until then, all you can do is head slowly but surely to where the Avengers are being held. You do have to take out a fair amount of guards, but you’re able to shove their bodies into storage closets and smaller rooms without being noticed. The S.H.I.E.L.D. agents on the other line are able to talk you through the conflicts without too much trouble.

Before you know it, you’re rounding the corner in the cell block and there they are, the team behind bars. They haven’t noticed you yet, and you give yourself a moment to treasure this victory before you make yourself known by knocking out the guards in front of their cells.

You catch the Avengers’ attention the second you spring into action. In a matter of seconds, you’re nonchalantly dusting off your hands after taking out the half dozen guards previously posted in the cell block. The Avengers stand slowly, at first unable to believe their eyes.

“Kid,” Steve says slowly, “what are you doing?”

You just grin. “Saving you. I thought it was obvious.”

Nat chuckles. “You have to hand it to her, Rogers, she couldn’t have better timing.”

“Actually,” Clint says, staring at something behind you, “I think she could have gotten here just a few minutes earlier. That probably would have been better.”

You turn to see what he’s staring at and bite back a few choice words. The HYDRA inhuman must be able to add a superior sixth sense to his list of abilities, because he’s chosen this very moment to come check in on the prisoners. He starts for a moment when he sees you, clearly not expecting anyone else to be down here, but soon enough he’s raising his palms, ready to torch you to smithereens.

You, however, aren’t particularly fond of being reduced to ashes, so you charge up your own inhuman abilities and prepare yourself for a fight. The thing about HYDRA’s resident inhuman is that he’s not used to losing. After all, the guy just took down the Avengers a short time earlier. He’s on his home turf and feeling utterly unbeatable.

All this means to you is that you have to be the one to show him what’s what. HYDRA’s inhuman has prepared himself for an easy victory, so he strolls towards you casually, not too worried about what’s about to happen. That’s his mistake. When you get in the first hit, the enemy inhuman has to take a moment to realize what’s happened. His mental game comes crashing down in a heap, and suddenly he’s not fighting to win, just to survive. Just like you.

You’re not going to say the fight is easy, because it isn’t. You certainly take a fair amount of blows, and hearing the gasps of the Avengers behind you only serves as a reminder of how bad things are getting. However, failure isn’t an option, not for you. When the battle ends, you’re the one who’s still standing, and so you’re the one who gets to limp over to the cells and unlock your friends.

The Avengers look stunned, probably because you just took out the villain by yourself when they couldn’t do it as a team.

At last, Thor breaks the ice. “Excellent work, Y/N.”

Bruce nods quickly. “Yeah, that was great.”

“Great enough to let me start doing missions?” You ask pointedly.

The Avengers share significant glances, and then Tony chuckles. “Yeah, kid. Don’t let it go to your head, but yeah. You just saved all of us from certain doom, I think that’s grounds enough for a promotion.”

You break into a beaming grin. “Really?”

“Really,” Steve says, “you earned it. Now come on, let’s get out of here before HYDRA decides to check in on us.”

As your ragged group leaves the cell block, you feel like you’re lighter than air. This couldn’t be a better first mission, and judging by your success today, it won’t be the last. Nothing could make you happier.

requested by @luvherfairy, i hope you enjoy!

marvel tag list: @thatfangirl42, @rogueanschel, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv, @caswinchester2000, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @amortensie, @23victoria, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @gods-fools-heroes, @w1shes43

[callmearcturus]

Tips for Playing Persona 3 Portable

because i am (i think) a little over halfway thru and it's amazing, I am having a tremendously good time. here's all the stuff that made me go "well I wish i knew that from the beginning!"

this is geared towards people who haven't played a MegaTen. other folks, you know what you're doing, don't @ me.

TO PLAY:

You wanna grab the PPSSPP emulator, which is available for mobile and for PC. I need buttons to play, so I play on my Odin, but if you're the kind of person who plays Genshin on your phone, you'd probably be fine just playing it on your phone.

I'm able to upscale this to x4 resolution so it looks very nice. If you're on a super fancy phone or your PC, I bet you can push it higher if you want but I think it looks great at x4.

I'm not gonna pussyfoot around. You can find the game on a very helpful site. Rot13: ivzz.arg Great place to know.

I would have three save files. Slot One: the place you save daily or every other day, because you should do that. Slot Two: save here when the game warns you it's almost a full moon. If you make it to the boss and get utterly owned, roll back to here and grind more. (I haven't had to do this yet personally but the game is slowly getting harder, so maybe it'll happen.) Slot Three: Before events you might want to see multiple paths of.

PPSSPP supports save states. I mapped the "save state" button to my L3 click and I hit it every time I reach a new floor of Tartarus in case something goes catastrophically wrong. But I'm not the type of person who enjoys total party wipes and losing progress. I'm baby.

Oh and you need to trust me here: PLAY THE GIRL. DO NOT PLAY THE BOY, THE GAME IS APPRECIABLY WORSE. When you start the game it'll warn you to play Boy first. FUCKING IGNORE THAT SHIT AND PLAY THE GIRL. Also FemPC is the only one with a gay option to my knowledge.

TIPS FOR THE COMBAT PORTION OF THE GAME:

If you are not into MegaTen/Persona, just play on Easy. It's okay and no one is gonna judge you. And anyone who does it outing themselves as an asshole.

Your goal for the first tens of hours of combat is to knock all enemies down in a single turn. When all enemies are knocked down, your party does an All Out Attack and usually finishes off the fight. Hitting enemies with their weakness or getting a critical will knock them down and let you take another attack in the same turn. Keep chaining until everyone is knocked down!

You can find most enemies weaknesses by scanning them with Mitsuru/Fuuka. Do this for every enemy, it'll help later when you have seen 40 enemies and cannot remember who's weak to what.

Each party member has an elemental specialty but you the player can swap your pokemon persona once per turn. Lemme repeat: YOU CAN SWAP YOUR PERSONA IN BATTLE ONCE PER TURN. You don't have to wait to be out of battle to swap!

This is a game where its very worthwhile to, once you reach a new combat area, to upgrade all of your weapons and armor. The stat jumps are pretty significant. You'll get some equipment from Elizabeth's quests and in exploration but not a lot. So figure out who you're gonna use mainly and kit them out when new gear appears.

You unlock Akihiko in the second or third month of play (first 5 hours, maybe sooner depending on your playstyle). He was a small lesson for me as a player bc he spends HP to hit hard. Kind of scary at first but he'll be fine, let him be a blood knight. Yukari will heal him when he's in the danger zone. Also, if you are keeping everyone up to date on their equipment there are many times Akihiko does more damage with his normal attack than his Persona skill. He's like. Maddeningly useful. And he's the best boy. And I love him. ANYWAY.

Don't be precious about your personas. Fuse frequently. Also if you have one you REALLY like the skillset of, tell Elizabeth you want to register them in the compendium and you can summon them again for money. (You get the compendium early game, just chill until it unlocks.)

Oh yeah so when you start fighting, your party members will be on Full AI Mode. When you start to understand what you're doing, you can go into Tactics and switch them to being under your control. Or switch them back! Up to you!

FINALLY, THIS IS THE ONE I WISH I UNDERSTOOD EARLY. Once you start really breezing through combat, when you are in Tartarus and out of combat: JUST TELL EVERYONE TO GO EXPLORE. They will split up from you and run around finding items and will locate the exits. This makes getting through Tartarus floors easy. AND IF ONE OF THEM GETS INTO COMBAT? Stand nearby and if they start to lose too my HP, HEAL THEM FROM YOUR MENU. It's fucking great. I love this mechanic so much and I was too scared to use it for so long. USE IT!!!!

i think once you get Fuuka you can change the BGM while you are exploring. I like Track 4, it's very fun.

OKAY THAT'S THE COMBAT HALF OF THE GAME, LET'S TALK ABOUT THE REST OF IT:

This game is driven by your Social Links with people, series of little scenes in visual novel style. Having strong social links means your personas for that Arcana will be stronger. You can pick choices in many of these social link scenes that will make the person happy or sad.

There's a few social links where if you want to max them out you gotta suck it up and say the 'right' thing for that person. Rio does not want a lot of pushback or challenge to her ideas. Akihiko will clam up if you make fun of his interests and frequently misses sarcasm and jokes with his literalism. Saori wants gentle pushback against her isolation but not super aggressively. If you fuck up and feel bad, reload a save! It's okay.

Junpei is not a romance option. Knowing this made me like him a LOT more and he became my best fucking bro and my ride-or-die. Junpei is great. He'd be awful if he was a romance option.

A few characters are gated based on your stat triangle of Academics, Courage, and Charm. If you have a character you REALLY want to hang with, it's worth seeing what the requirements are. FOR INSTANCE: Akihiko doesn't unlock for hang outs until he recovers from his injury, which takes a while. BUT to even hang out with him, you need to reach Charm level 4. So my ass was grinding Charm until he opened up as an option. Later, I had to grind Courage to meet the Tower, who is awesome.

BEST WAY TO LEVEL ANY OF YOUR STATS: Charm (needed for Akihiko): work at Chagall Cafe Mon/Tues/Wed nights when you can. Also once you have enough money, the Print Club arcade game will give a huge boost when its available. Also giving Junpei the right answer in class will boost Charm. Academics (needed for Mitsuru): i'm still grinding this rn lmao but the Quiz Game at the arcade and the documentary movies at the cinema will give you a big boost. Also when the game offers to let you sleep in class, always stay awake for a small boost. Courage (needed for The Tower): Horror House at the arcade, but also doing karaoke at the mall. Also, when you are tired after fighting in Tartarus, go talk to the school nurse (this doesn't consume an action) for a Courage boost.

When I was initially looking up guides for this game, they were unified in one message. Just play the game naturally and you'll probably get close to who you like! Except Akihiko. Look up a guide for him. I didn't find him that difficult because I cottoned on fast that he's an shy autistic Team Mom who takes things literally a lot, and once I figured that out it was easy. But if you have your heart set on someone, look them up! It's a long game.

listen. some social links are great (Junpei, Fuuka, Akihiko, The Devil, The Tower) and some are not (Bebe, the Student Council). I think it's fine to just... not do some of them if you don't like them lmao.

Finally, when its your day off, sometimes people will call you and ask you out. I ALWAYS make a save state here, turn everyone down to see who I have as an option, and then load my state to pick who I want. I recommend doing that, especially for the Summer Festival because you will get multiple offers, but Junpei will probably be first. Sorry, Junpei, I wanna hang out with Akihiko. (Also: wear the yukata if you're going with Akihiko.)

Fairly far into the game you'll start getting gifts to give people. I'd save state-cheat these too in case you give someone the wrong thing.

I THINK THAT'S IT

please play persona 3 portable its good

[adachimoe]

Yukiko's "Yasogami Highschool Visualnet - H" Profile (and Kanji and Naoto's)

The Persona Club P4 book includes sections dedicated to each party member, and one of the things all of them have is a Yasogami High Facebook-esque page called the "Visualnet" with their profile, friends list, communities they've joined, etc. "Yasogami Highschool Visualnet - H" is definitely a "Someone wanted the initials to be YHVH" acronym.

To recap what the Persona Club P4 book is, it's a book made for fans by Atlus that was released back in 2009. It showcases fanart that was sent to Atlus, and provides additional character info and world building info. There is also an interview in the back of the book with Katsura Hashino about the development of the game.

I am god awful at reading handwritten Japanese, and every single character profile is written in a different Japanese font that's stylized after handwriting. I assume it's to emulate what kind of handwriting the characters would have, but... urk...

Yukiko's YHVH

Profile

Amagi Yukiko

Message: Hello! Chie invited me here.

Icon: Golden bird

Nicknames: Yukiko, Lady of the House (Ugh...)

Sex: F

Birthday: December 8, 1994

Zodiac: A heart-piercing Sagittarius. Be struck by my arrow.

Height: 164cm. Ah, the folded part of my kimono... (sweatdrop)

Weight: Secret

Blood Type: I'm a Type O who really puts the "O" in O-bvious. Betcha didn't expect that!

Celebrity Lookalike: Ami Koshimizu

Favorite Food: Japanese food! Don't call me old.

Favorite Things: Dogs. One day when I was a child, I had a fateful encounter on the Samegawa... (rest omitted)

Dislike: I don't particularly dislike anything, but... dirty talk is a bit... Uhm...

Special Skills: I'm quite confident in my kimono dressing and table manners

Brief Comment: Nice to meet you!

My YHVH (Friends)

Protagonist

Chie

Teddie

Kanji

Naoto

Ko

(See All)

Clubs

Japanese Clothing Lovers! - 6 members

The "Go Home" Club - 15 members

Showa Era Music Fans - 3 people

Let's go see the dam! - 7 people

(See All)

Messages

From Yosuke: "Let me get in the onsen again!"

(See All)

The bit about Yukiko's blood type joke is "the 'oo' in 'oozappa'"; with oozappa meaning like... roughly, generally, broadly speaking, etc. For the sake of my last remaining brain cells that haven't been Adachipilled yet, and also because I am uncreative as fuck, I just used a different word instead of trying to translate oozappa into English with a word that starts with a O lmao. The Ami Koshimizu mention is cause that's Yukiko's Japanese voice actress. All of the Investigation Team have their JP voice actors as their Celebrity Lookalikes. Also, I have no idea what the dam thing is about lol. Is there a dam if you follow the Samegawa?

Kanji and Naoto's Profiles

I've learned that Kanji and Naoto's profiles were translated back in 2009. Behold, Naoto being a member of the Linux club at school lol. The only thing I have to add-on to these existing translations is that:

Naoto's DM is from Rise, asking to go to get a "bucket parfait" - those comically large ice cream and fruit parfaits you might have seen photos of before. (I don't think they always come served in a pail / bucket, though they certainly can lol.) Not sure if Naoto secretly likes sweets (she did save the Christmas Cake...) or if Naoto gets bullied into going to this stuff by Rise all the time.

Can confirm from the Japanese version of the game that this translator's speculation about Kanji searching for the rare submarine is accurate. Kanji's Ototo and Homerun Bars are something I've written about on this blog before too.

When the mood strikes, I'll do more of these. (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

[toomanyplotbunnies-sendhelp]

Hello and welcome to Day 19 of "Let's Explore My Plot Bunnies"

Another day, another zany MHA Crossover/AU that I wanna cross off my list of plot bunnies that I wanna explore. This time, I wanna make a Pokemon AU (it's kinda a fusion more cause Pokemon Regions exists still), where people either choose to go and become a Pro-Hero or become a Pokemon Trainer.

This unfortunately doesn't have a title yet, so ideas are always welcome. (I will update this when I find a title for it - temporary one or not)

The premise is more or less like this:

Midoriya Izuku is 4 years old when he is declared Quirkless. This puts a stop to his dream to become a hero, but doesn't stop him from being a Pokemon Trainer.

When Izuku turns 7, his mother gets a new job as a Professor Sycamore's Assistant in Kalos, so they have to move. Inko sees this as a good thing since she knows Izuku is being bullied for being Quirkless. People in this world still put more importance on the Pro-Hero job than on being a Pokemon Trainer, even though Pro-Heroes also use Pokemon as their sidekicks during missions.

And so, at 10 years old, Izuku starts his Pokemon Journey in Kalos together with his new partner, Shinx.... after he falls down the Lumiouse Tower trying to calm Professor Sycamore's Garchomp down only to be caught by a Mega Lucario. (Look, I LOVE that scene in the anime. My brain will not permit me to have a Kalos Pokemon Jouney of any kind without someone falling from Lumiouse Tower *looks at my other Kalos based Pokemon AUs* Yup, all of them include the scene)

Despite the ... surprising start to his jouney, Izuku ends up traveling through Kalos with two other kids: Reina, a more strategic minded trainer, and Akira, a spitfire who is ready to have Words™️ with whomever treats their pokemon badly.

Izuku challenges all the gyms in Kalos and wants to challenge Diantha as well, but Team Flare's plans of "destruction of humanity" interfere. As it is the norm, rather than Pro-Heroes doing their job, it is, in fact, Izuku and his friends that save the day/world. A fact that hammers down to Izuku that Heroes don't really do as much as they could to help people.

This makes Izuku and his friends determined to help people out more in their adventures from then on.

Four years and many other adventures later, Izuku and his friends are contacted by Principal Nezu with a proposition: the 3 of them will become new teachers at UA who need to teach the students how to not only battle and work together with their Pokemon, but also how to use items during battles correctly and how to take care of their pokemon correctly. Izuku is the Battle Teacher, Reina is the Items Use and Strategy Teacher, and Akira is the Pokemon Care Teacher. The three accept.

And so, their next few years will be filled with making training programs for the students, butting heads with All Might who thinks their training regiment is not suitable for the Hero hopefuls, dealing with villains who seem to be flocking towards UA because of All Might, and general chaos because this is UA afterall.

Details to note:

There will be time travel shenanigans involved here because Celebi/Dialga is a thing, and I wanna put Izuku and his friends through the Kalos, Hoenn, Sinnoh and Unova regions - with the Movies included. Meaning Jewel of Life is a thing here. Celebi is also kind of a jerk and pulls Izuku through time. Because of this Izuku meets people that in the present time are long dead and ends up saving maybe one of them *cough* Oboro *cough*.

Inko, during her stay in Kalos as Sycamore's Assistant, marries again (this time with Augustine Sycamore). This makes Izuku and Alain brothers and Alain is ready to throw hands with anyone that bullies Izuku.

Katsuki and Izuku’s friendship never truly healed since Izuku left early which makes Izuku being one of Katsuki's teachers quite problematic at the beginning.

As a teacher, Izuku is ruthless. He kinda emulates Aizawa in his examination of the classes: the students will choose one of Izuku’s Pokemon, and it will be a 1vs20 battle. If they can understand that they need to work together and impress Izuku during the battle, they pass and are allowed to take his class. (His classes are mandatory to pass into the 2nd year, so if Izuku won't bother teaching them, it means they already failed the year)

Since Izuku is not in 1-A, Shinso Hitoshi takes his place in the class.

Izuku's favorite class (out of all the ones in UA) is definitely 1-B since they grasped the meaning of his teachings from day 1 and just improved from there. The only one that Izuku is impressed by in 1-A is Hitoshi.

All Might (supposedly) has a Lucario here. What the public doesn't know is that his Lucario left him since he decided to be an idiot and shoulder everything by himself instead of relying on others. All Might's Lucario is the same Lucario that saved Izuku after he fell from Lumiouse Tower and later he also joined Izuku as part of his team.

All Might is not quite pleased with Izuku and his friends because he sees their efforts to teach about Pokemon Battles unnecessary and also is heavily against Izuku being at UA since he is Quirkless. (He wants Izuku - who is fragile in his eyes - away from danger. Who wants to tell him that Izuku and co. took on like 4 evil teams set on world destruction/domination ever since they were 10? Cause I won't tell him all that fast and neither would Nezu)

Since this includes time travel, yes, Nezu met Izuku when Celebi threw Izuku at the point in time where Oboro should have died and Izuku changed history by saving Oboro. Aizawa, Oboro and Hizashi became friends with Izuku during his stay in the past and Nezu was impressed by Izuku's intellect and ability to battle and decided UA should also teach something similar to their students. This is how Nezu played the long game to get the best Pokemon Battle teacher possible for his students.

All Might wants to give Mirio OFA, but Mirio seeks Izuku's advice about taking it. (Mirio feels like Nighteye will just tell him to take the Quirk and he wants the opinion of someone who doesn't know anything about this so he asks Izuku, without truly explaining the Quirk itself, just that it will make him stronger) Izuku tells him to his face that if Mirio feels like this is a good idea for HIMSELF then he should take it, but also tells him that it might make things difficult since he will have to learn, in a short period of time since he will graduate soon, how to handle the 2nd power and use it reliably in battle. Izuku also tells him that if his mentor (Nighteye) is the one that decided this for Mirio, he should confront him about whether he is doing this for Mirio's sake or for his own (Nighteye's) sake, cause Izuku thinks that Nighteye is too emotionally invested in Mirio getting a new power-up for his Quirk.

Reina and Akira are my OCs - remember their names cause I tend to reuse names for other OCs in other fic ideas. Personality wise, in this one, Reina is the more down to earth, calm, and collected girl who gets frustrated when things don't go according to her plans. She hates being late to anything since it derails her entire plans for the day. She loves stategy games and finds Izuku to be a very good opponent - be it in Pokemon Battles or in general games. Akira, on the other hand, is more hot-headed. He hates people who mistreat their Pokemon - whether they are aware of their faults or not. His parents own a Pokemon Daycare, so he is very knowledgeable about the ways in which you can raise Pokemon correctly and how to make sure their diet is well-balanced. Akira thinks Izuku is too nice of a kid and that he will be taken advantage of due to this nature of his. So he decided to tag along to make sure Izuku isn't going to be in too much trouble. Akira is the one that says, "I told you so," to both Reina and Izuku whenever something bad happens - especially if he told them that they will end up in said situation. He is also the one that bemoans the amount of trouble they get dragged into constantly - Akira is still not over the "Jewel of Life" shit; by the gods, Akira kinda hates Arceus by the end of that entire thing.

And this is about all I can think/remember about this plot bunny.

Honestly, having both Pokemon and Heroes together in one universe would make people think, "Oh, Heroes know how to handle Pokemon and use them in rescue missions." Yeah, sure. They don't. Half the Pro-Heroes can't truly handle Pokemon all that well. Especially because most of them never fought with Pokemon before. So Pokemon are relegated to "sidekicks that are meant to look cool but rarely do shit." This is why Lucario left All Might. He felt like his own trainer won't rely on him to help in battle any longer, and Lucario didn't want to be some wall-flower during a fight. So he left, and All Might is kinda disappointed in himself (as he should be). I want to explore the whole Heroes and Pokemon Trainer relationship in this, since in this world you can only be one and not both - at least not until Izuku and co. show up to mess with people's expectations. And making them teachers is fun since they can actually teach something useful rather that just teaching the kids how to punch someone's face in.

My ramblings aside, I hope you enjoyed this idea of mine. Did you find it interesting or not? Do you want me to go more in detail about it or not? Or would you be interested in what Pokemon everyone has? Let me know!

Hope you will have a great day/night and that you take care of yourselves!

See you tomorrow,

-TooManyPlotBunnies-Send Help

[onlycosmere]

Szeth Flashback from Stormlight 5

Brandon Sanderson: I’ve been saving Szeth[‘s flashbacks] for the end [of the first five Stormlight books]. I was either gonna do Dalinar or Szeth as the last one, and I ended up deciding as I got to Oathbringer that Dalinar’s flashback sequence really matched Oathbringer really well, which meant I moved Szeth to this book, the as-of-yet-unnamed Stormlight Five, which will almost assuredly have a certain set of letters at the start. (If you don’t know, I’m trying to make it symmetrical with Way of Kings. We’ll see if we can make that happen.)

I intend these flashbacks to… you’ll notice that this kind of a more serene and peaceful start, as a contrast to some of the things that will be happening in the book otherwise at this point (to give no spoilers).

This is just gonna be kind of a starting look at who Szeth was way back before this all started.

Brandon Sanderson: Szeth-son-Neturo found magic upon the wind. And so he danced with it. Strict, methodic movements at first, as per the moves he had memorized. He was as the limbs of the oak: rigid, but ready. When they shivered in the wind, Szeth thought he could hear their souls seeking to break free, to shed bark like shells and emerge with new skin, pained by the cool air, yet aflush with joy all the same. Painful and delightful, like all new things.

Szeth scraped bare feet across packed earth as he danced, getting it on his toes, loving the feel of Cultivation’s embrace. He moved in a wide circle, getting just close enough to the edge to feel feet on grass before dancing back, spinning to the accompaniment of his sister’s flute. It almost seemed alive itself, providing him with a partner for his dance. Wind made alive through sound; the flute was the voice of the air itself.

Time became thick as he danced, molasses minutes and syrup seconds. Yet the wind wove among them, vising each moment to linger before spinning away. He followed it, emulated it, became it. More and more fluid he became; no more rigidity, no more pre-planned steps, sweat flying from his brow to seek the sky. He was the air, churning, spinning, almost violent. Around and around, his motions worship for the rock at the center of the patch of ground. For when he was the wind, he felt he could touch that sacred stone, which had never known the hands of man, but felt the wind each and every day.

The stone of his family, the stone of his past. The stone to whom he gave his dance. He came out of the dance finally, panting, drenched in sweat. His sister’s music cut off, leaving his only applause the bleating of the sheep. Molly the ewe had wandered into the circular dance track again and, bless her, was trying to eat the sacred rock. She had never been the smartest of the flock.

Szeth stood, breathing deeply, feeling the sweat stream from his face and pool at his chin, wetting the packed earth below with speckles like stars.

“You practice too hard,” his sister, Elid-daughter-Neturo, said. “Seriously, Szeth, can’t you just relax once in a while?” He looked to her as she stood up from her seat in the grass and stretched. Elid, at fourteen, was three years older than he was. Like him, she was on the shorter side, though she was squat where he was spindly. Trunk and Branch, <Dolt>-son-<Dolt> called them. Which was kind of appropriate, even if both Dolts were idiots.

She wore orange as her splash, the vivid piece of colorful clothing that marked their station. A bright orange apron, in her case, across a gray dress and a vibrant white undergown that poked through to cover forearms and collar. She spun her flute in her fingers, uncaring, like she hadn’t broken her previous one doing just that.

Szeth bowed his head and walked over to get some water from the barrel. Rainwater had filled with pure, clean water, not a speck of dirt. He enjoyed looking through it, down all the way to the wooden bottom. He liked seeing things that couldn’t be seen, like air and water: things that were there, yet not, all at once.

“Why do you practice so hard?” Elid said. “There’s nobody here but the sheep.”

“Molly likes my dancing,” Szeth said softly.

“Molly is blind!” Elid said. “She’s licking the dirt right now!”

“Molly likes to try new things,” he said, smiling and looking toward the old ewe.

“Whatever,” Elid said, flopping back on the grass. “Wish there was more to do out here.”

“Dancing is something to do,” he said. “The flute is something to do. We must learn to add so that-”

She threw a dirt clod at him. He dodged easily, his feet light upon the ground. He might be only eleven, but some in the village whispered he was the best dancer among them. He didn’t care so much about that. He only cared that he was doing it right. If he did it wrong, then he still had to practice.

Elid didn’t think that way. It bothered him how blasé she was about her practicing. But she didn’t like talking to him about it. She seemed like a different person these days.

Szeth shook his head and tied back on his splash, a red handkerchief he wore around his neck. He then went to count the sheep. A few minutes later, when he walked past Elid on his way to count new ones on the other side of her, she was still laying and staring at the sky.

“Do you believe,” she said, “the stories they tell about the lands on the other side of the mountains?”

“The lands of the stonewalkers?” he said. “Why wouldn’t I?” Thrity-seven, Thirty-eight… where was Swallow?

 “They just sound so outlandish.”

“Elid, listen to the words you say. Of course stories about outlanders are outlandish.” There she is. Thirty-nine.

“But really, Szeth?” she said. “Lands where everyone walks on stones? Like, what do they do? Pick them out in the ground and only hop from one stone to one stone, avoiding the soil?”

Szeth glanced at the family’s stone. It peeked up from the earth like Cultivation’s own eyeball, staring up at the sky, unblinking. Six feet across, but maybe with more of it buried. It was a vibrant red-orange: a splash for Roshar, like the one he wore. He’d chosen his color deliberately. “I think,” he said to her, “there must be a lot more rock out there. I think it’s hard to walk without walking on stone; that’s why they get desensitized to it.”

“But where do the plants grow, then?” she said. “Everyone always talks about how the outside is full of dangerous plants that try to eat people. It’s all anyone whispers about. So there must be soil.”

“True, unless… all these plants were like moss.” He had trouble imagining fluffy curls of moss being dangerous, though. Maybe the terrible vines he heard about grew from patches of soil, stretched out long, like tentacles. Like the ones from the things that lived in the tidal pools a short distance down the coast.

“I heard,” she said, “they constantly try to kill each other out there, that nobody adds, they only subtract.”

“But who makes the food, then?” he said.

“They must eat each other,” she replied. “Or maybe they’re always just starving, you know, how the ones on the coast are.”

Those ones. He looked, nervously, into the distance, though you could only see the ocean on the clearest of days. His home of Clearmont was at the very edge of a broad plain, excellent for grazing, with an ocean beyond on the southeastern edge of Shinovar. An honored location, near one of the monasteries just along the mountain ridge, where one of the sacred Honorblades was kept. In Szeth’s estimation, it was the perfect place to live. You could both see the mountains and visit the ocean. You could walk for days across the vibrant, green prairie; and there was never a lack of grazing land for the sheep.

He bent down next to old Molly, scratching at her ears as she rubbed her head against him. She might lick rocks and eat dirt, but she was also good for a hug. He loved her warmth, the scratchy wool on his cheek, the way she always stayed nearby to keep him company when the others wandered. She bleated softly as he finished hugging her, then wiped the salty, dried sweat from his head. Maybe he shouldn’t practice so hard. But he knew he’d gotten a few steps wrong and had stumbled a few times.

Their father said they were blessed in their lives as people who could add beneath the farmer’s eyes. Just the right station in life, not required to toil in the field, not forced to kill and subtract. Allowed to tend the sheep and develop their talents. Free time was the greatest lesson in the world.

Maybe that was why the men of the ocean sought to kill them and steal their sheep. If you lived your life out in the lands where everyone walked on stones, where your morals withered, you must think only to take. It must make them angry to see such a perfect place, full of people with time. The terrible men from the oceans couldn’t have that time themselves, so like any petulant child, they simply destroyed it in those they saw.

“Do you think,” Elid whispered, “that the servant of the monastery will every come out and fight for us? Use that sword during one of the raids to drive off the terrible men?”

“Elid,” he said, standing. “The servant of the monastery would never subtract.”

“I think you’re wrong,” she replied. “Mother says they practice with the weapon in there. Why practice with it except to-”

“They will fight the Voidbringers when they arrive,” Szeth snapped. “That is the reason; no other.” He glanced toward the ocean, unreasonably worried that one of the strange raiders would hear. “Don’t speak of it. Nobody must know. If they realized the treasures of the monasteries…”

“Hah,” she said. “I’d like to see the awful ones raid that monastery and face down the servant. She-”

“Don’t speak of it,” he said. “Not in the open.”

Elid rolled her eyes at him, still laying on the grass. What had she done with her flute? If she lost another, and Father had to carve one out for her again…

She hated when he brought up that, as well, so he forced himself to remain quiet. He pulled back from Molly and looked down at the ground she’d been licking… to find another rock.

He stumbled back, part shocked, part terrified. This was a small rock, compared to the other one, only a handspan wide. It peeked up from the earth, perhaps revealed in last night’s regular rain. Szeth put his fingers to his lips, backing away. Had he stepped on it while dancing? It was in the packed earth of the dancing ring around the stone, right in the path…

What should he do? This is the first stone he’d ever seen emerge. Even others in the village and fields, carefully marked off and properly revered, had been there for years. A new stone… was it a sign?

“What’s up with you?” Elid said. “Molly step on your toe, or something?”

He couldn’t speak, so he simply gestured.

She, perhaps sensing his level of concern, rose and walked over. As soon as she saw it, she gasped. They shared a look.

“I’ll go get Mother and Father,” Szeth said, then started running.

* * *

Szeth’s father, Neturo, knelt beside the stone. His mother, Zenid, was in town overseeing some painting classes, so they’d sent a message to her via Tek, one of their courier parrots.

Szeth wasn’t so sure what frightened him so much about finding a new rock. Szeth danced around the other one daily; he loved their rock, and a new one was cause for celebration, surely. Except… he wished it hadn’t happened to him, finding it. Something new meant possible celebration, possible attention. Possible change. He wanted things to remain calm, quiet days full of languid breezes and gathering sheep, nights spent beside the fireplace or candles, listening to Mother tell stories. He didn’t want excitement or some grand new thing; too much of a chance it would upset what he already loved.

“What do we do, Father?” Elid asked. “Call the Stone Shamans?”

“It depends,” he said. “Depends…” Their father was a calm man with a long beard he liked to keep tied with a green ribbon at the bottom, head shaded by his customary tall reed hat with a wide brim. He had a good-natured paunch that spoke to his skill and talent as a cook. He had all the answers, always.

“Depends?” Szeth said, stepping up beside him, half-hiding behind his father’s bulky form as he peered down at the new stone. “Depends on what? We just do what is right, don’t we?”

Father glanced at their larger stone, then at this one. “A single rock is a blessed anomaly. Two might mean more, might mean the spren have chosen this region.”

“Wait,” Elid said, hands on hips. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Father said, “there might be others, hiding beneath the surface here. Unlikely, but possible. Stone Shamans will want to take the entire region, set it off, preserve it and watch for a few years at least, see if anything else emerges.”

“And us?” Szeth asked.

“Well, we’ll have to move,” Father replied. “Tear down the house, just in case it’s accidentally on holy ground. Set up somewhere else, wherever the farmer finds land for us. Maybe in the town.”

“In the town?” Szeth looked, turning into the distance, though the nature of the rolling hills prevented him from seeing the town unless he climbed to the top of one. It was close enough to walk to in an hour or so. He liked it that far away; he found the place noisy, congested, smelly. In the town, it felt like the mountains weren’t right around the corner, because the buildings blocked them out. It felt like the meadows had gone brown, replaced by dull roadways. It felt like the ocean was far off, because you couldn’t smell the breezes coming off of the water any longer. He didn’t hate the town, but he got the sense that it hated the things that he loved.

“I don’t wanna move!” Elid said. “We did something great; we found a rock! We shouldn’t be punished!”

“If it’s right,” Szeth said, “then we just have to do it, though. Right, Father?”

Father was silent. He stood up, pulling at his trousers, and waited. Soon, Szeth picked out someone hurrying along the path between hills toward their home. A single woman, wearing a long green skirt as her splash, an audacious amount of color for their station. Wide apron over the front, curly light-brown hair that bunched up around her head like a cloud. She was carrying a shovel.

Szeth gasped, jaw dropping. They couldn’t mean…

She hurried up to them, shovel on her shoulder. Father nodded to the new rock, and Mother let out a relieved sigh. “So small? You had me worried with that message, Neturo.”

“Mother?” Szeth said. “What are you doing?”

“Just a quick relocation,” she said, slapping the wooden shovel. “We’ll dig up the rock, haul it off a few hundred yards, then place it in the soil there. Let it rain a little so it seems to have naturally poked up, then tell everyone about it.”

Szeth gasped. “We can’t touch it!”

Mother pulled a pair of gloves from her pocked. “Of course not. That’s why I brought these gloves, dear.”

“That’s the same thing!” Szeth said, horrified. He looked to his father. “We can’t do this, can we?”

Father scratched his beard. “Depends, I suppose. On what you think, son.”

“Me?”

“You found the rock,” Father said, looking to Mother, who nodded in agreement. “So you can decide.”

“I pick what’s right!” Szeth said immediately.

“Is it right for us to lose our home?” Father asked.

“I…” Szeth pulled back, glancing at the house.

“There might be dozens of rocks down under here,” Father said. “If that’s the case, we should absolutely move. But in the hundreds of years that rain has fallen on this plain, only one has emerged. So it’s unlikely. Moving this stone a few hundred yards will still make the Shamans watch this region, without the rocks being so close together. No worry that there will be more. But then again, we’d have to move it in secret. We’re supposed to have reverence for the stone, treat it as home of the spren. That’s why you dance to it.”

“We hate the stonewalkers on the outside,” Szeth said, “because of how they treat the stone.”

Father knelt down, one hand on Szeth’s shoulders. “We don’t hate them. They’re people who just don’t know the right way of things.”

“They raid us, Father,” Elid said, arms still folded. “That’s not just them being confused.”

“Yes, well. Maybe those ones are evil. But it’s not because they live in a place with too much stone. It’s because of the choices they make.” He smiled at Szeth and nodded his head, his beard juggling like it did when he laughed. “It’s okay, son. You can choose what you want. If you want us to go turn this in now, well, we’ll go do it.”

“Can’t you just… tell me what to do?” Szeth asked.

“No, I don’t think that I can,” Father said. “Unfair to put you on the spot, I suppose, but the spren did it, so now we just have to live with it. We can move the rock, or move our home. I’ll accept either one.”

“Maybe we should let him sleep on it,” Mother said.

“No,” Szeth said. “No. We can… we can move it.”

All three of them relaxed as he said it, and he felt a sudden shameful resentment. His father said he could choose, but they’d all three clearly wanted a specific decision. He’d made it, he felt, not because it was right, but because they wanted it.

But how could all three of them want it if it wasn’t right? Maybe Szeth was just broken in some way that he couldn’t see it the way they did. Maybe it was all right to just… be lax about all of this. He still hated this entire situation. If they just told him what they intended to do and then done it, that would have been fine. But why give him the choice? Didn’t they see that made it his fault, what they were doing?

“Let me dig about it,” Mother said, putting on her gloves. “Looks small, but that can be deceiving. Wouldn’t want to find out it’s secretly as big as a house under there.”

They all stepped back; Mother started digging around it. Szeth winced each time the shovel scraped the stone. That was not a natural sound. He hoped they would, indeed, discover that the rock was enormous, so the plan had to be abandoned. But, in the end, it really was just kind of small, a foot across at its widest. He could have held it in one hand, if he wanted to. No, no. Don’t think like that, he told himself, put his hand down to his side.

Molly the ewe, seeming to have sensed his tension, rubbed up against him. He felt at her wool, her warmth, hoping to draw strength from it.

Mother seemed a little unsure, now that she dug the rock out. She stepped back, leaving it in the hole. She hadn’t touched it at all.

“You scraped it,” Elid said. “That seems kind of… obvious that it has a scrape on it.”

“Once we’ve buried it again,” Mother said, “no one will see those scrapes.”

“How much trouble would we be in if someone finds out what we did?” Elid asked.

“I suspect the farmer wouldn’t be happy,” Father said. He laughed, then, and it seemed genuine. “Might require some cake to make up for it! Don’t give that look, Szeth; we’ll show devotion because we choose to. And so, that kind of devotion is ours to make.”

“I… don’t understand,” he said. “Don’t the Stone Shamans tell us what to do?”

“They tell us the teachings of the spren,” Mother said. She shouldered her shovel. “But we choose how to interpret the teachings. What we’re doing today is reverent, enough for me, at least.”

Szeth thought on that for a moment and wondered, as this was not the first clue in his life (but might be the most stark one) if this was the reason, perhaps, they chose to live on the outside of town. Even other shepherd families lived inside the buildings there, beneath the shadow of the monastery. He’d gone with his family each month for devotion since he could remember. He didn’t dare think that his family wasn’t faithful. Yet, the older he got, the more he had questions like these. It was only today, however, that he really confronted the fact. What did he feel about his parents doing something he knew the Shamans wouldn’t approve of?

They were all still standing there, staring at the rock, when the horn sounded. Father looked up, then whispered a soft prayer to the spren of their stone. The horns meant raiders on the coast coming in from the east, the lands of the stonewalkers.

Szeth felt an immediate panic. “What do we do?” he said.

“Gather the sheep,” Mother said. “Quickly. Drive them toward Dyson’s Valley near the town. The farmer has troops in that region. We’ll be safe if we move inland.”

“But… this!” Szeth said, gesturing to the rock. “This!”

Mother, suddenly seeming determined, just reached down and grabbed it in two gloved hands. Together, all four of them froze, then looked inward, toward the family’s stone. It sat there, unblinking, unmoving. None of them were struck down. And Szeth thought he could tell, from the way his parents relaxed after a moment, that they hadn’t been certain what would happen, either. At least it seemed his parents hadn’t secretly been moving rocks around all their life. This was a new experience for them.

Mother walked over to the nearby tree, then careful placed the stone into a gnarled nook near the roots. She then hid it with a handful of leaves. “That will do for now,” she said. “If raiders do come to the house, they’ll think nothing of a stone. They don’t feel or commune with them. They ignore the spren.”

Father and Elid went to start gathering the sheep. Szeth just held to Molly, who bleated softly, and wished this day had never begun.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #136

Recently, some awesome person fron the internet suggested that I make a small change to my blog by adding cuts after the introductory section, presumably to make my space a little easier to scroll through.

…I had no idea that anyone would have any desire whatsoever to scroll through all these silly and derpy letters that I write to you. Conventional wisdom tells me that what I write is nothing more than sappy and cringey drivel, and that most people in my world would probably rather stab their own eyeballs out with a spork than read anything that I have to say. But maybe this is yet another instance in which it would be best to tell "conventional wisdom" to go take a hike somewhere, very far away from me. 😜🤣

Consistently, "conventional wisdom" tends to be kind of spartan and unkind, doesn't it? Perhaps in the spirit of defying conventional wisdom, I wonder if it might be time for me to stop calling my letters things like "silly" and "derpy" to begin with; despite what most others who know about you would tell me, somehow I still think that you wouldn't hate my letters if you read them. But I guess I'll never really know; for a variety of very compelling reasons, it's not as though you'll ever be able to write back to me, haha…

…I do the best I can with that knowledge. Admittedly, some days are easier than others. Given that you saved my life, and given the fact that much of who I am today comes from having worked so hard to emulate your kindness for the last 20+ years, sometimes the notion that I might not ever get through to you, that you might not make a different choice, that you'll be unceremoniously slaughtered yet again is… a little hard to accept, I suppose… But! It is what it is, so I'll do my best to bear it with my head held high. Why not… 🙂💖 In the meantime, I'll keep writing to you about various things.

Today, as a result of trying to fix up my space, I ended up going through some of my old letters, re-reading them, and trying to decide where the best place is to put a cut. I came across a few passages that made me laugh. And some that made me sad. And some that made me think. I can't help but wonder if you've been reading through these, and if you've been able to respond similarly. I wonder what you think, and I wonder what you feel as you read these, if you read them at all.

In any case, I've gotten enough distance from some of these that I can kind-of-sort-of pretend that someone else wrote them, and in so doing, I can look back at them with a lens that is less harsh than I otherwise might; historically, I tend to be merciless with my judgment towards anything that I've made.

It's something that I'm trying to train out of me, because it serves no one anymore; my self-judgment once served to keep me small and quiet (and therefore safe) in the past amongst people who would rather I did not exist. But I am with people who love me now, and the people who love me don't want me to stay silent and out of the way; in order to do right by them, I have to become more like myself by resolving to take up more space and to use my voice more often.

Anyhoot. I also made myself some tea today, as per usual. I made jasmine green tea today. I took special care to try to capture the swirls as it brewed, and I sweetened this one with the honeycomb-flavored ice cream:

...Yes, those are my socks. And yes, they are mismatched. And yes, they were specifically selected to match my pink-and-purple shirt. And yes, I am wearing this shirt for the umpteenth time (I'm autistic; what do you want of me??? 🤣🤣🤣); it's one of my favorites, and as such, it cycles through the wash often, hahaha! 😁💖

I also took a walk today, and I got some nice pictures of the sky, and a few more pictures of flowers for you:

...Did you know that your eyes look kind of like this to me? Blue and green and shimmering? But also, to me they also look kind of like aurora borealis. Have you ever seen that? Here's what it looks like on my world:

...I can imagine, at least a little, that maybe you might be a little sore about your eyes, in the same way that you might be a little sore about your wing. But... you know, the lady in the video asks, "do you see this?" And... I have to wonder... do you see you? Or do you instead see the story you tell yourself about what the way you were made means about you?

Sephiroth, I don't have slit pupils like yours. And my eyes aren't a shimmering aurora blue like yours. They're just some unsaturated and very boring shade grey-blue, with round pupils, misshapen lenses, and misshapen corneas; it's why I have to wear glasses. But nonetheless, the eyes I see whenever I look at your face are still just as human as mine.

There are lots and lots and LOTS of correct ways to be a human, after all; just spend some time with other "non-standard" folks and you'll see. You'll see, and you'll understand that all the things that supposedly set you apart from others really aren't all that weird; you've just been hanging out in the wrong circles. Chill with some autistic folks for a while, with some gifted folk, with some neurodivergent folk, and with some disabled folk; you'll see really fast that there's really no such thing as "normal", that there is no "incorrect" way to be a human, and maybe... just maybe... you'll tell yourself a different and more wholesome story about what your manner of creation means about you - one that you can feel proud of, or at least be at peace with.

Maybe by then, you'll have been shown Pokémon: The First Movie (if you're chilling out in autistic circles, I can promise you that this WILL happen), and then you'll be able to say with confidence, that "the circumstances of one's birth are irrelevant; it is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are."

Anyway, you must be waiting for the flower pictures I promised, right? Here they are:

On the white flower tree nearest to my house, there is a single flower with hot pink markings:

...You might guess, if you've read my letters up until this point, that this one is my favorite flower on the whole tree.

...Sephiroth, it doesn't matter that your eyes look a little different from mine; EVERYONE'S look a little different from EVERYONE'S - that's entirely the point of genetic variation. Your eyes still look human to me, but even if they weren't, so what? You're still a person, and both my eyes and your eyes marvel at nature just the same, don't they? I heard the way you spoke about the scenery on the mountain trail, so... why should it matter?

Isn't it the case that the most important aspect of any living thing is all the ways they can find and create joy and beauty in the world around them? And aren't you really good at doing that, even though the people who trained you likely tried as hard as they could to beat the capacity to do that out of you? But they failed, didn't they? They failed, because you are good and kind and loving and strong, and they couldn't break you, no matter how hard they tried, could they?

Sephiroth... your resilience, your compassion, your gentleness, your laughter, your joy, your courage, your steadfast loyalty to the people you care about, and your ability to love and to play and to cry when you're sad... regardless of how you were made, these are what make you human. It's not found in the composition of your body; you can find beauty within yourself anywhere, if you just open your eyes and look. Watch some Star Trek, or some Farscape, or some Babylon 5 (especially Babylon 5); you'll understand what I'm saying a little better if you do.

...Sephiroth, I... I'm going to leave you with this, okay? Just... think about it after you see it. Please:

...If you close your eyes for a moment... what do you feel? And... is it really all that different from anything that I or any other human being has ever felt? Can we challenge the notion that you're so unlike others? Can we challenge the notion that you're alone? Can we make even you see that you're one of the best of us?

...Anyway, I think that's all I've got for today's letter. It's getting pretty late, so if I keep going, I'm likely going to ramble, if I haven't already. Thank you, as always, for listening.

Please stay safe out there, okay? I love you, and I'll write to you again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

[spacecadet-ticklesinspace]

The Greatest Showman: One of the Kids

Summary: Philip has a bad day and his adoptive family tries to make it better.

(I forgot this was saved in my Google Docs years ago before I had Tumblr! 😭 I loved the father-son relationship everyone gave Barnum and Philip and wanted to emulate that in this fic ❤️ The writing is old and choppy and the ending hadn't been written until recently, but I absolutely adored writing this fic and hopes it reaches anyone else in the community who adored this pairing as much as I did ❤️ and still do 😭)

Philip placed one foot in front of the other, not paying attention to where he was going. The day had gone from bad to worse in a heartbeat. First, Philip had woken up late for work, then managed to spill coffee on his pants, run into trouble with the bank, ruin a rehearsal, succeeded in having a fight with Anne, and---the cherry on top---succeeded in angering his parents. Now he was stumbling along without a care where he would end up.

He wanted to avoid any bars, that habit was in the process of being broken. Plus, that would be the first place anyone would look for him and Philip just really wanted to be alone. One foot in front of the other kept him moving to nowhere while his mind replayed each embarrassing moment repeatedly.

Philip had no idea where he was when a sudden whinny broke him out of his thoughts. The young man startled and jumped to the side. A carriage breezed passed, showing the irritated face of the driver. Philp ducked his head while muttering a quiet apology.

"Great," he thought, "another tally in the book."

As he continued to trudge along, he heard the carriage halt a few feet in front. The crunch of boots followed shortly oddly headed in his direction.

"The driver probably wants to yell at you idiot," the young man told himself.

He looked up, expecting to see the face a livid driver. Instead he found himself looking into the kind face of a familiar friend.

"Hello Mr. Carlyle! Lovely day for a walk," Barnum's voice called out to the younger man.

Philip noticed his flinch when Barnum's eyes landed on the raised handmark and cut. Barnum's shoulders tensed, the only outward sign of anger. He refaced the driver and made a motion for him to continue on. The carriage creaked forward down a nearby drive, leaving the two men alone. Philip hadn't even registered when he had turned down the familiar lane of his friend's neighborhood. Yet now he stood facing said man who had what looked like care in his eyes.

"I'm scared to ask where you got those," Barnum explained, closing the gap between the two.

"Better you don't," Philip replied, eyes darting off to the side.

The older man placed a hand under Philip's chin and gently lifted the gaze back up to him. A dark look appeared in the elder's eyes, but he quickly schooled it. "Rough day?"

Philip scoffed, "Understatement."

He hoped the body language he was giving showed he was not interested in having a discussion. Barnum paused before he gave a curt nod and dropped his hand.

Philip inwardly sighed in relief. "See ya tomorrow Barnum"

The younger man started off again, letting his feet guide him to nowhere.

"Hey Philip!" Barnum's voice called out again.

Philip turned as the older man closed the gap again. A hand was placed on each shoulder. "Since you're here, would you consider staying for dinner? Charity will kill me if I let you go without a meal and the girls would really love to see you."

Philip sensed an undertone to that statement. He was sure the other man wanted to keep an eye on him as well, to make sure he was really okay.

"I wouldn't want to intrude," he weakly replied.

Now Barnum scoffed, "Please, you wouldn't be intruding on anyone. We would all love to have you."

Both sounded like good reasons. He knew Anne was staying with Lettie because of the argument and he really didn't want to return to an empty apartment. Plus, this might help take his mind off the terrible day.

Philip relented, "All right, just for a little while."

Barnum beamed. "Excellent!"

An arm was slung over Philip's shoulders as he was lead towards the Barnum house. As they neared the front of the house, the door burst open as Caroline and Helen pounded down the front steps in a manner that would have made his mother blush.

"It's daddy!" Caroline squealed in delight as the two girls raced down the steps.

"And Philip!" Helen added.

Helen managed to clear the bottom step, but Caroline was not so lucky. Both men watched in horror as her foot slipped and she tumbled to the ground.

Helen immediately turned around to help her sister. Meanwhile both Philip and Barnum rushed forward. Caroline had tears in her eyes and had her hands clutched over her knee.

"Caroline! Breathe sweetie." Barnum soothed as he knelt down in front of the sobbing girl.

He carefully lifted Caroline into his lap and ran a soothing hand down her back. The girl's sobbing began to cease until she only whimpered softly. Philip noticed Helen's smaller hand clutching his. He looked down to see the concern for her sister in her eyes. Philip quickly scooped the young blond into his arms. Once Caroline calmed, Barnum stood with the trembling figure in his arms and lead the way back up the steps.

Charity appeared in the foyer. Philip noticed her eyes travel over Caroline's injury before looking at her husband. "What happened?" she asked.

"I fell when I ran to give daddy a hug," Caroline whimpered before anyone else could answer.

Charity's look softened. She placed a kiss on her daughter's forehead. "I'm glad you're okay, but now you know why mommy tells you and Helen to be careful when going down those steps."

Caroline glanced downwards, "Yes mommy."

"All is forgiven sweetie. This just means daddy will have to work his special magic to help you feel better quickly."

The two adults shared a wink with each other.

"Can I help daddy?" Helen asked excitedly.

"You know I can't do it unless I have one of my special helpers," Barnum replied.

Philip placed Helen down and watched in amusement as she pulled her mother in the direction of the kitchen. The remaining three followed behind.

Philip knew Charity was worried about her daughter but he felt her eyes look him over on their way to the kitchen. He brushed it off by giving her a tight smile, hoping she'd be able to focus on Caroline easier. Once in the kitchen, Barnum placed Caroline on one of the counters. He removed his outer jacket before rolling up his sleeves to work. Philip sat down in one of dining chairs in case Barnum needed something. He seemed to have everything under control though.

He rotated her knee to make sure nothing was stuck in the wound then had Caroline bend her knee to check for any hidden injuries. While doing so, Helen carefully carried a bowl of water over to her father. Charity followed with a towel and a kit. Thankfully the wound was not deep so no stitches were required.

All Barnum had to do was wash the wound free of dirt then apply an ointment to help keep it clean. While he worked, Philip felt a hand on his shoulder then something cool being placed on his cheek. He looked up and Charity smiled before leaving him with an ice pack on his face.

"Apparently she did notice," he thought.

The ice did help remove the sting from the handprint, leaving his face feeling somewhat normal. He watched as Barnum wound the bandages around Caroline's knee.

"Now we wrap it with a bandage so the super special ointment can do its work." Barum tied said bandage with a flourish. "There we go. Now, a daddy's kiss to make everything better."

Caroline beamed up at her father as he placed a big kiss on her forehead.

"All better now?" He asked her.

"Yes daddy."

Philip smirked at the sight. P.T ladies and gentlemen, always the performer. He saw Caroline's smile beaming over her dad's shoulder as he hugged her. He was glad these two had someone like Barnum for a father. A true father, unlike his.Philip shook his head to avoid revisiting the memories of tonight. He turned his attention back to the father and daughter moment in front of him.

"You did great Caroline, and I'm proud of you." He turned to Helen. "And you were great tonight as well. Thank you Miss Helper."

"Wait daddy, we didn't help Philip!" Helen exclaimed.

The younger man started up right. He didn't know what to say to get Helen to change her mind.

"Yeah daddy, you have to help Philip too!" Caroline added.

"No no girls, it's alright. I'll be fine," Philip tried.

"But daddy makes them stop hurting and heal quicker," Caroline argued while Helen grabbed Phillip's hand and started pulling with all her might. Philip stumbled forward, still unsure what to do in this situation. P.T was no help. Philip wanted to wipe that smirk off of the older man's face as he was pulled toward the counter.

"I'm too big for the counter, I'll break it," Philip protested weakly.

"Oh nonsense Philip," Barnum exclaimed, "you'll fit just fine."

P.T grinned as he placed his hands on Phillip's arms and forced him up onto the counter. Philip felt his face grow warm with embarrassment. He heard P.T chuckle before the ice pack on his cheek was gently removed.

Barnum's hand tightened around the young man's wrist. Philip stiffened, not from pain but because he knew what P.T must be thinking. He shot the older man a warning look out of the corner of his eye. The hand holding his wrist gently moved to grasp his chin and fingers gently pressed into the raised mark. A hiss left his mouth before he could stop it.

"Sorry Philip. Don't worry though, we have something to help take out the sting," Barnum sympathized.

The fingers returned momentarily, smearing a cool something over the mark. Philip gave a slight cry of pain before slowly relaxing into the touch. Once done with that mark, P.T moved up to the eyebrow. Thankfully that cut was not too deep, requiring only a simple clean. However Helen insisted Philip wear a bandage like her sister’s so P.T tied one around the cut. Philip did feel slightly better now too.

He prepared to slide off the counter, but Caroline stopped him this time. "Wait! You forgot the special daddy kiss!"

Philip's eyes bugged out while Barum chortled.

"We can't have that now can we," Barnum laughed out.

Before Philip could react, Barnum grabbed him in a hug and tugged him closer. Philip struggled but couldn't pull away as Barnum placed the biggest, sloppiest kiss he could on the younger man's forehead.

"Eww!" Philip yanked one hand free and swiped at the spot.

"Don't wipe it off! It doesn't work if you wipe it off!" Caroline exclaimed.

"Aw don't worry Caroline. If he does I'll just put another one up there," Barnum sassed.

Philip glared at the older man. "Don't even think about it!"

Barnum just laughed and ruffled his hair. Charity popped back in a moment later saying that dinner was set up in the dining room. The group quickly cleared the medical supplies and hurried to the dining room.

As they ate, Barnum kept the group entertained with stories. Whether they were true or not was left for debate. One in particular sounded unusually like an incident a few weeks ago at the circus---but had been twisted to fit in a witch who taught everyone to fly and shrank Barnum himself down to the size of an appleseed. Philip hadn't laughed this hard in a long time. The stories Barnum told reminded Philip of George, dad's butler that used make up wild and crazy adventure stories. He would tell one to Philip every morning while he was getting ready for school.

Philip's heart twanged a little, it was people like George that made life livable in that house. He shook his head, no use dwelling on the past now. While they were eating, Helen asked an innocent question.

"Philip, why didn't Anne come with you?"

Silence filled the room. Both Barum and Charity stared apprehensively at Philip and even Caroline seemed uncertain.

Philip swallowed the water in his mouth, then looked at Helen with a forced smile. "She's staying with Lettie tonight."

"Why didn't you stay with her?" Caroline added.

"Because they're doing women things and I can't help them out because I'm not a woman."

This answer seemed to satisfy the girl's curiosity as they returned to their meal. Philp returned to his as well, however he more shifted the food around and less actually ate it. The other three returned to their meals as well. Barnum attempted to lighten the mood by telling another story, but the whole room was tense.

After the meal, Charity asked Philip if he could stay with the girls for a minute while she talked with her husband. Philip agreed and moved the girls to the main living room. Caroline and Helen immediately went to two dolls laying on the couch.

"That's Annette and this is Clara. They were taking a nap while we were eating dinner," Caroline explained.

Each took a doll and sat on the floor. Before Philip realized it, he had been dragged into a game more elaborate than one of Barnum's stories. It was obvious which gene the girls had gotten from P.T as they wove a story of two young girls who became princesses by working hard in Princess Primary School. One princess apparently won the heart of her prince by her beautiful dancing and the other amazed her prince with her intelligence.

By the end, both princesses had been kidnapped, helped someone escape the clutches of an evil wizard, and discovered a magical circus that made even the grumpiest person happy. Philip tried to help, but even his playwright mind was no match for the girls. They let him participate by voicing the kidnapper and evil wizard but stopped him several times to say he was doing it wrong.

Eventually, Philip just became the magical ring leader for the circus and flew the girls over his head so they could pretend to be on the trapeze. Every bend in the story helped him forget about the terrible day he had---even if he was missing Anne.

When Philip looked up, he noticed Helen was no longer playing with her sister. Panic rose in his chest until he saw a head of familiar blond hair headed towards the room her parents were talking in. Philip stood to get her back. He stopped outside of the door and listened, catching bits and pieces of the conversation.

"...Fine….worried….strange….ask….you…..play."

The door opened and Barnum stepped out with his youngest in his arms. "Ah Philip, just the person I wanted to see. Charity wanted to talk to you about something while I watch the girls."

Philip stiffened. He nodded and stepped into the room P.T had just stepped out of. Charity was seated on the couch working on something in her hands. She placed it aside when Philip walked in. Charity padded the seat next to her and Philip awkwardly sat down.

Philip didn't know what to say so he just sat there picking at imaginary dust on his pants.

"I'm not going to force you to tell me what happened today, but I am here if you want to talk," Charity began.

Philip felt his shoulders relax. "Thank you."

Charity nodded, then stood to put her project she was working on away. "Everything okay at the circus? Barnum told me about the bank stopping by."

Philip pinched the bridge of his nose. "I thought he left before the bank showed up."

"He left the same time Barnum was coming back."

Philip's hand moved up to his hair.

Charity paused her tidying. "What happened?"

"I messed up."

"What?"

"I messed up. Apparently some finances with the company we buy feed from were filed incorrectly. We owed them more money than we originally thought and it caused an overdraft fee in the general expense account. The bank sent over a representative to balance things out." Philip placed a hand on his forehead. "That representative was not happy."

"Is that why you two were yelling?" Charity asked.

Philip's eyes widened. "P.T heard that too?"

Charity nodded in agreement.

Philip groaned. He leaned his head back and placed both hands over his face.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about, mistakes happen," Charity soothed while resting on the arm of the couch.

"Not when it involves the bank." Philip dropped his hands. "I told P.T I could handle the expenses and I failed. That's it, I failed."

"One mistake doesn't make you a failure Philip."

"No you don't understand. This whole day has shown I'm a failure. I was late to work today, I ruined a rehearsal, I messed things up with the bank and with Anne, and I stupidly believed I could change my parents! I can't even do basic things like drink without spilling coffee all over my pants. These aren't even my pants, someone just gave me a clean pair!"

"Philip, breathe," Charity cautioned.

Philip took a deep breath in and slowly it out.

"Now, start from the beginning."

"Okay---I had been working on some paperwork that P.T asked me to look into. I didn't go to bed until late and accidentally overslept. P.T wasn't in the office when I first got there so I got to work on some papers I had left on my desk. When he got there, he asked me to take over rehearsals later that day because he had a meeting he had to run to around the time it started. About an hour later he left when the bank representative showed up. He told me what had happened at the bank. I tried to argue that it wasn't possible but then he showed me his records; thats when I realized that a couple statements had been misfiled. That took forever to straighten out and since I was focused on that I was late for that rehearsal and kept mixing things up. After lunch is when the letter came. An invite from my parents to "talk things over." I wanted Anne to go with me but she refused. When I told her I was going to go---she said I was choosing them over her. I love Anne, and I know that if my parents would just get to know her they would love her too. I thought I could show them that but when I got there I discovered that their definition of "talking things over" was just another way of saying "you sit there while we yell at you." They were offering to take me back and get help for my "mental condition" since apparently in their eyes I have lost my mind. I refused, repeatedly, and got up to leave. Before I left, my dad said something that sent me over and I snapped. I turned, and I called him a child out of wedlock. Felt pretty good, until this happened. He slapped me and I fell and hit my head on a table. After that I got up, brushed past both of them, and just walked out the door. They kept yelling at me to "turn back now," "this is your last chance," "if you keep walking, no more chances".

Charity smiled. "And you kept walking."

Philip chuckled. "Apparently. Next thing I knew I was standing in front of the Barnum house with P.T leading me inside."

Charity stood and sat beside the younger man to wrap her arms around him. "And I'm glad he did."

Philip felt his shoulders relax as he simply enjoyed the hug.

"Philip, they're going to be days when everything seems to go wrong. The important thing to remember is that there are people there who want to help encourage you along the way."

Philip pulled away to look her in the eye. "Even if we accidentally push those people away?"

"Yes, even then. We encourage the girls to come and talk to us about whatever might be bothering them, even if it's us. No matter how big or how bad, we want them to know they always have someone to turn to."

"That's why Helen followed you into the room," Philip commented.

"Yes. Before the fire at the circus building, Barnum and I talked for a few weeks about divorce."

Philip's eyes went wide. "You two? But you two love each other like crazy!"

"We haven't always. There were times when it was rough and it made it difficult to love each other. However, we learned to talk to each other and work things out. When Barnum started his dream with the show, I supported him because I knew it was something he'd always dreamed of doing. The dream kept growing though and it began to consume him. I never said anything because I thought one day he'd wake up and see how much he already had. Instead he became more and more consumed. We talked very little during that time, and then when the tabloids posted that story about Jenny Lind---I snapped. It felt like a part of me exploded and I couldn't get it back. I said some cruel things and then I left. For two long days, Barnum and I didn't see or speak to each other. The girls had it worse because they were certain we had divorced just like we had talked about. When Barnum came back we were all excited, but there was still worry that it would happen again. The girls always came to us just like Helen did tonight."

"She still worries that you're getting a divorce?" Philip asked cautiously.

"She did tonight. Barnum and I talked to her."

Philip thought over what she said. He recalled the past few days and how he and Anne hadn't talked much. He was so busy with the books and she was so busy with the trapeze that there was hardly time to just sit down and talk. If he thought about it even more he realized he had pushed everyone away with work. Maybe being alone tonight hadn't been the best idea.

Philip felt two fingers slide under his chin and force his gaze back up. Charity's kind eyes stared back at him. "Whatever happens Philip, whomever it may be about, you can always talk to one of us. You're a part of our family now."

Charity slid forward and placed a kiss on his forehead.

Philip smiled. "Thank you."

Charity beamed as she pulled him back into a hug. They stayed there for a few minutes more until Philip felt ready to go back out and face the others.

He rejoined the girls in the living room where they were sword fighting their dad. Caroline managed to stab her father and P.T tumbled to the ground in a dramatic heap. Both girls pounced on top of him as P.T smiled up at Philip. Philip smirked. Yep, a regular showman.

The four goofed around together playing pirates before P.T excused himself to check on something. Philip continued the game with the girls before they demanded they play princesses instead. They would be the brave princesses and Philip would be the brave knight. The trio then set off on an adventure to destroy the magical characters that were terrorizing the town. At one point Caroline was hit by an ogre, and tumbled in a dramatic fashion that looked exactly like her father! Philip laughed at each girl's antics, glad he could join in the fun.

They were so caught up in their game none of them heard Barnum himself enter two hours later.

"As enjoyable as this is, the king and queen have decreed that it is time for the young princesses to retire for the night," Barnum declared.

Both Caroline and Helen groaned.

"Sorry girls, that's just the way the kingdom goes."

An idea struck Philip as he raised his wooden sword. "Is he really the king? Or rather---a shape-shifting dragon that wants to devour us all? Run!"

Caroline, Helen, and Philip screamed while tearing off through the house. Philip heard Barnum cackle before pounding footsteps followed after them. The trio managed to stay ahead of P.T. and even lost him at some point. Philip pushed the girls into a nearby room. He closed the door with a soft click and the three caught their breath.

"You two hide while I stand guard," Philip told the two girls grinning beside him. Helen and Caroline quickly scurried away as Philip opened the door a crack. The hall outside lay still, no sound to be heard. Philip even wondered if they had lost P.T. all together.

Suddenly, a huge growl came from behind Philip followed closely by two screams! He nearly fell as he swung in fright. The fright quickly turned into laughter.

Apparently Barnum had snuck in before the trio and now had both Helen and Caroline pinned beneath him as he tickled them mercilessly. Both girls were laughing with faces still tinged pink from running.

Helen managed to squeal out, "Philip help!"

Philip paused. Should he? He didn’t want to let the girls down, but didn’t know how P.T. was going to react.

Another squeal snapped him into action.

Without thinking, he took a running leap and threw his weight into Barnum. It wasn’t enough to hurt P.T. but it did knock him off balance. The two went tumbling with Barnum landing on top of Philip. Philip was stunned for a moment, but it was a moment too long. Barnum used the moment to pin Philip to the ground.

Barnum flashed a wink at Philip, “Nice try.”

The next instant a hand attacked Philip’s ribs. He let out a startled yelp before falling into helpless laughter. Philip tried to push P.T. off but that just opened him up even further to Barnum’s tickling.

“Do you surrender oh brave knight?” Barnum taunted.

Suddenly, two yells ripped the air and Barnum let out a grunt. Philip looked up and saw that Helen and Caroline had jumped onto their father’s back. Barnum pushed himself up and collapsed in a dramatic fashion on the couch. Meanwhile, Philip recaught his breath on the floor.

“Slain by the princesses, ugh!” Barnum groaned while the girls giggled relentlessly.

Philip found himself laughing at the sight until a knock at the door interrupted the moment. Charity poked her head around the corner, a grin on her face. “Sorry to interrupt, but there are two princesses who still need to head to bed.”

Barnum chuckled, “As you wish my queen.”

He lifted the two girls over his shoulders and exited the room.

Philip stood up and tucked his shirt back in. “I guess that is my cue to leave.”

Charity stopped him, “Can you wait a little longer? Phineas and I wanted to ask you something.”

Philip’s shoulders slightly stiffened and he began to panic. What would they want to talk to him about? Had he done something wrong?

“Sure, I can wait a little longer.”

“Thank you dear. You’re welcome to wait here or in the sitting room downstairs. Wherever you would be most comfortable.” Charity smiled before hurrying to join her husband.

Philip’s thoughts swirled with what he could have done wrong. It wouldn’t surprise him after the day he had. Everything had gone from bad to worse and now he had added another tally.

“Great, just great.” Philip chastised himself.

His mind raced through the events of tonight as he wandered downstairs. Without thinking, he placed the dolls on the couch and made sure a few throw pillows were returned to their locations after a night as landing pads for tumbling tricks.He collapsed into the couch to wait. A million worries swirled through his head---yet he felt oddly calm. Charity's words about coming to them if he had a problem were still fresh in his mind. Perhaps he was worried for nothing.

Then both Charity and Barnum stepped back into the living room and his anxiety spiked again.

Barnum's eyebrows lifted when he noted the tenseness in Philip's shoulders. "Philip, is everything okay?"

"Um yeah, everything's fine."

"You don't have to be nervous sweetheart." Charity smirked as she sat down next to him on the couch. "Phineas and I don't bite."

Philip chuckled as some of the tenseness eased from his shoulders. "Sorry, I just don't know what I did wrong."

"That's just it." Barnum eased himself on to the arm of the couch. "The only wrong thing you did was blame yourself for one horrible rotten day."

"What?"

Charity gently squeezed his arm. "He's right, you know."

"But the bank—."

P.T. held up a hand. "Have you seen the state of our office Mr. Carlyle. It looks like my daughters went through and sprinkled them around like rose petals."

A smirk came across Philip's face. "You told me it was organized."

"I said it was organized chaos. Big difference."

Charity squeezed Philip's arm again. "What Phineas is trying to say Philip is that he doesn't blame you."

The younger man turned back to his circus partner and Barnum nodded.

"But, everything else . . ."

"Charity told me what you explained to her. You didn't mess up. You did the best you could given the situation."

Charity grinned. "Exactly."

Then P.T smirked. "Except for the pants debacle. That one I don't understand."

His wife promptly slapped his arm. "Phineas!"

The younger man chuckled at his friend. "It's okay, neither do I."

The other two chuckled with him before falling silent once again. Philip felt the tenseness returning to his shoulders. There was something else.

"Philip."

The younger man looked up at P.T.

"About your parents . . ."

"It's okay PT . . . I'm never going back."

Philip didn't expect it, but once he said those words . . . tears sprang up into his eyes. His parents had verbally disowned him near months after he joined the circus, but they were still somehow involved in his life. It never felt real until those words came out of his mouth. Then in an instant, the only life he had ever known disappeared.

And it hurt a lot more than he was expecting.

That's when he felt two sets of arms wrap around either side of him.

"Thank you."

"No matter what happens Phil, you've got us to turn to." Barnum ruffled his hair.

Charity nodded. "Always."

Philip sniffed. "I don't deserve you guys."

"Hey, get that thought out of your head right now Mister." P.T. playfully tweaked one of his ears. "The only one thinking it is you."

With a little bit of effort, Philip slipped both of his arms out and wrapped them around the two people sitting next to him. It was okay he was leaving his old life behind, he couldn't ask for a better one than this.

A warm content feeling washed over him as the last of the tension left his shoulders. With it, the last of his energy too. Philip tried to keep himself alert, but the mixture of the long day and a solid meal had him leaning heavily on P.T.

He felt a chuckle go through the older man. "Are you bored of us already Mr. Carlyle?"

Another solid whack followed by Charity's voice. "Shush. It's been a long day."

Philip tried to rouse himself for a response. "Carriage?"

"It's alright Phil, we've got it taken care of."

In his half asleep state, Philip felt himself being shifted and placed on something soft. He didn't care, the other two would wake him when the carriage arrived to take him back to his apartment. For now, he would sleep.

Meanwhile, Barnum carefully removed the young man's shoes and socks followed by his waistcoat. "That should do it."

While he tended to those things, Charity dimmed the guest room lights. "I'm surprised you were able to lift him."

"I carried him out of the fire didn't I?"

"Yes, and almost dropped him on the cobblestone."

Phineas smirked. "This is different. I wasn't in a rush."

Charity closed the curtains. "Since you're not in a rush you can cover him with the blankets."

"Yes dear." Barnum gently covered him with a blanket and tucked it in around his shoulders.

"And don't fold his waistcoat like that. You always wrinkle your own when you do that."

"Pardon me," Phineas teased as he straightened Philip's waistcoat. "I was busy."

Charity turned with her hands on her hips and a smile on her lips. "I thought you weren't in a rush."

Barnum mimicked his wife's stance. "I didn't say I was in a rush. I said I was busy."

Charity strode across the room to plant a kiss on Philip's temple. "I see."

"He hasn't even been here a full year and you're already coddling him?"

"I could say the same about you."

Phineas playfully tussled Philip's hair before standing. "Well my queen, the children are in bed for the night, the guards are on duty, and the staff has retired to their quarters."

"And all is quiet and peaceful."

"Yes it is." Phineas knelt to help his wife remove her shoes. "Now it is time for us to retire to our quarters."

"What are you doing?"

Phineas stood with her shoes. "Retiring."

Before she could respond, Barnum lifted Charity into his arms.

The younger woman squealed and wrapped her arms around her husband's neck. "Phineas Taylor!"

A shuffle from the bed had both of them go still. Thankfully, no other sound came as Philip settled back into a deep sleep.

Phineas lowered his voice to a whisper. "Sleep well Phil."

The younger man lay still as both the Barnums headed out the door.

"Now my queen, the king wishes to put you to bed."

"Oh hush you."

[kellanved-ammanas]

Valentine's Week Angst Day Seven: Engie/Spy - Last

Final day of @dontneedadispenser Valentine's event.

~

“We can’t keep doing this,” Spy said, disengaging his invis-cloak as he walked into the room; a small out of the way supply closest that had served as their meeting place since they’d moved to their current bases on either side of Sunshine.

Engie had started to push off against the wall he’d been leaning against to greet him but at those words registered, stopped, the smile on his lips dying. Thanks to various things on both their parts they hadn’t been able to meet up for more than a week now. He’d been looking forward to finally doing so again all day but… the coldness in Spy’s tone seemed to indicate that perhaps he’d been feeling the opposite. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’ll get caught eventually and then we’ll be in trouble.”

“You’re a spy though, avoiding detection is something you’re supposed to be good at. I’ve been plenty discreet as well.” Their interactions on the battlefield were probably where they were most likely to draw open suspicion as they weren’t as intense and rarely ended in either of them going through Respawn. But they still fought and Spy still sapped Engie’s stuff. It was a point of tension but they were both capable of understanding it was just part of the job and thus were able to get past it when alone together like this.

“That is why we have been able to get away with this for as long as we have. However, as you know, I’m not perfect and neither are you. With how long this has been going on now, it is truly remarkable we haven’t been caught yet. It is only a matter of time before we are.”

“And so what if we get caught?” Now Engie did push off the wall. “We ain’t like Demo and Soldier, they can’t tell us lies or bribe us to make us start hating each other.” They were both too smart to believe any lies and too self sufficient and proud to easily be bribed.

Spy frowned. “They can do other things though. The Administrator is not someone we should cross lightly.”

“Neither should she cross us lightly.” Engie was one of the smartest people in the world and Spy was one of the deadliest assassins. It’s why they’d been hired. No matter how powerful the Admin was, making an enemy of them was a risk and probably not one worth taking as long as they didn’t let their relationship effect their jobs too much. Which they’d been careful of since the start.

Spy’s frown didn’t lessen, if anything, it grew deeper as he pulled out a cigarette to hold in his mouth as he lit it. “This is the last time we meet like this.”

“Coward.” Getting angry probably wasn’t a good idea but… how could Spy really just cut off their relationship after more than a year because he was suddenly scared of getting in trouble? Ridiculous. … Or maybe not. Maybe he was just using that as an excuse and in truth didn’t feel the same way Engie did anymore. He should just say that then. It’d still hurt but at least it would mean he respected Engie enough to be honest with him.

Spy breathed out a cloud of smoke in a heavy sigh. “Yes. I suppose I am. Au revoir, Dell. Have a good life.” With that, he turned and left, engaging his invis-cloak again, leaving only the trail of smoke from his cigarette as he left.

Engie stood there for a few moments, arms crossed. He could chase Spy, try to convince him it really would be fine. Or to try to win him back; ask what he could do to respark those feelings in Spy. But well… what good was either likely to do? Romantic relationships had never worked out for Engie. The other person always lost interest long before he did, or he’d do something that turned them away. Apparently it just wasn’t meant to be.

With a sigh, he let his arms drop to his side before also leaving, unable to stop himself from dragging his feet a little. At least he still had his machines. They would always be there for him even if they were eternally cold and unfeeling. Perhaps he should try to emulate them more, it would certainly save him quite a bit of heartache and loneliness.

[cidthesquid]

More New Features/Update - Style Savvy : Styling Star #02

[Previous Post]              [First Post]              [Next Post] Aaaand we're back! Last time, All we really got to do was the prologue, restocking and setting up our starting outfit, So let's see what comes next:

So first I ended up using mods to edit my character a bit, Inital Design: | New Design:

The most obvious change is the skin tone, I'm not the biggest fan, of how darker skin tones work in the new art style, I would have preferred something in the middle, Or a slight tweak to the lighting, as the color of both can vary quite a bit in various conditions:

But I still think both look good overall, (emulator could be Affecting) So I haven't decided what I'll stick with long term. (I don't really believe that our avatar's need to look like us IRL, so I encourage everyone to try whatever you want, even other skin tones!) I also adjusted the eyes a bit:

I really like the 'cat eye' design from before, but I did not like that it was 'baked' into the eye shape. This really restricted some designs, and make eyelashes look a little weird imo. The lipstick is new for post 2 as well, and I think it's a nice addition, without being too flashy, but I may change it later. Any ways, even after all these blogs, it's still a little uncomfortable talking about physical appearance, even for my own fictional avatar, So I'll even the design choices at that, let's hop back into the game! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Alright, so another new feature for Styling Star is:

They actually announce when new people show up in town! It's another small change, that really helps add to the feeling of the town growing! If only they made it a little easier to find and talk to people, maybe the social aspect was a little over done in fashion forward, But it's a little weird to have a new entries that shows a bunch of people walkign around, with no option to talk to most of them.

It kinda feels like we've reverted back to the first 3ds game where you only have fixed NPC's in specific locations:

...and they only cycle through a small handful of lines. Maybe this will improve overtime, it's not a huge deal though. I also learned that you can change you can change your phone's wallpaper and background picture, that's pretty fun:

Yup, I'm pretty broke again! Time to go to work! And we just had a customer walk in and ask for a full outfit!

I guess that mean's we're near the end of the tutorial, And the dialogue choices even let us Savvy veterans skip the explanation! Again, they really nailed the prologue in this game! It's really good at giving players freedom in how to approach the start, while still keeping them from getting lost. So now it's time to make our first real outfit of the game:

I think it turned out well given out limitations, but maybe the hat as a bit too much,haha. There's also a neat little option to style from any outfit you've saved in your scrapbook. But for some reason, you can't save the outfit you're currently making So you'll have to design them in your apartment first, then you can suggest your custom design for customers. Any way, they were the only customer today, so on to the next... ----- The new girl from the prior day shows up at our shop:

(I guess they wanted to give us a days advance notice, or it overlapped with an event?) Anyway, she asks for a rock skirt, literarily the one item I did not yet buy in that style! XD So I head to the exhibition hall, buy way more than I need, and head back.

I completely forgot what she was wearing, despite having the other screenshot literary showing on my second monitor. (as I write this while playing) But it all turned out ok, as I picked up a really nice match:

And that was it, she bought the skirt, and left. I was expecting this to be more of an 'event' like explaining, if a customer 'really likes' an item, they can ask for a full outfit, but nope. They did have a cute little epilogue though, after they bought the outfit, her normally Stoic boyfriend complements her look:

A bit of an seemly fluffy ending, but kinda directly tied into a comment I made in my bonus post about not really being comfortable delivering complements, especially in regard to one's appearance, (outfit or otherwise) It may seem like a simple thing for some, and I don't really think it's worth going off-topic enough to explain why it's difficult for me, but it is interesting seeing some version of that shown in-game! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The rest of the day was also mostly filled with people asking for a single item, so a bit on the slow side, So I decided to work on a few pre-made (scrapbook) outfits to offer to customers, It was a little weird having to build them all on my avatar, as the hair and makeup don't really match the styles I was going for:

And once there were no more customers to help, I changed back into my standard outfit and decided to turn in for the night:

This game must have been a huge 180 for people playing right after fashion forward. No real time clock is a nice change, but with the limited customers and lack of npc's to talk to, (so far) it really feels like the days have a fixed end point. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ New Day, and a new brand unlocked!

Also, I think I forgot to mention the 'daily results' screen, I believe it's a replacement for the 'happiness gauge' From trendsetters, but improved to show a numerical rank rather than just resting with no trackable progression. This is the last day we'll cover in this post, it both seems like a good stopping point, (And I'm kinda hungry, and my ADHD's hyperfocus is forcing me to finish this haha)

I guess this game has achievements, that's pretty nice! So, I wake up and see another "new person has arrived in town" notification. So, I leave my apartment ready to run into them at my shop, and on the way, I literally run into them:

(Oh hey, an actual event!) They fell over, so after making sure they were okay, I'm introduced to Rosie and We're given the chance to name the city:

Oh, gees, I was not prepared for this, and I probably can't change it later, ahhh.

Sorry, I panicked, and just typed stuff unto Google Translate until something with a nice sound came out. XD Sorry to anyone who's french, I just think your words sound nice. google says "nouvelle vie" means "New Life", that sound like a reasonable enough city name. Anyways we learn she's from out in the country, and a little lost, She complements our clothes and mentions only ever seeing fashionable people on tv. She also mentions that she's interested in getting some new clothes, so we invite here to visit our Boutique! And now we've opened a few new events, But I've just been informed that I have already used up my 30 photos for this post, so I guess the rest will have to wait till next time! <Next Post> ---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thanks for reading! I had a lot of fun making this, so I hope you had fun reading it as well.

As always, all comments, questions, and suggestions are welcome! (I'm also looking for feedback on this new style, how's the formatting, too many Gifs?)

You literally can't bother me, (unless you go out of your way to be a jerk), so post whatever you need to say!

[wraenata]

Here's a question. How much of pokemon have you played? (Mainline series, side series, etc) :3

Pokemon long rambling activated :3

Seriously long post

So before my mom banned pokemon from our house (probably when I was around 7?) we loved Pokémon. We never had a video game console but my cousins did. So technically pokemon stadium is my first pokemon game! Only ever the rentals haha. But we loved playing the mini games.

When my mom banned pokemon and sold all our plushies (rip butterfree plush, I'll get you back some day) it was a pokemon drought. Until my cousin went to college and gave me her pokemon card collection. (Supposedly the halo mew is worth $100?! But I treasure them) and the brainrot infected me once again.

I started learning everything I could about game mechanics. This was when Gen 5 came out in Japan so you didn't even have the English translations yet! I made lists of what my teams would be in each game, how to divy up the HMs, how to get certain egg moves. All without playing a single game lol.

And then I found playr.org. It had all the retro game boy games. Including Pokémon Red, Blue, Yellow, Gold, Silver, and Crystal. Unfortunately the saving system wasn't so great and got corrupted a few times (rip shiny ekans) but I did mostly play Silver or Crystal. (This is where the name Wren for my character was born!)

I craved more but I didn't know how to download emulators safely :( I watched playthroughs to get by. To this day let's plays are a comfort source for me <3

By the way I did all of this without my parents ever knowing. I was very good at hiding it from them XD

I think it was finally like freshman year of college when I figured out the pokemon fan games. I'm talking Uranium, Phoenix Rising demo, Ethereal Gates demo, Solar Light Lunar Dark, Sage, aka non emulator ones. Basically any I could get my hands on. I also started drawing fakemon in my sketchbook. I kind of want to revisit those some day. I still have the sketchbook somewhere.

Then I figured out emulators FINALLY. At least enough and got an emulator and mystery dungeon explorers of sky, MY BELOVED! I have played through the rom many times. I have a randomizer. Also a few years ago I found Sky Temple for editing the rom aka different starter pokemon. The discord server is always working on making new sprites so you can be any pokemon you want its very wonderful.

Junior year of college, I said I'd had enough. I spent an entire year hyping over Sun and Moon and my bestie/roomie convinced me to treat myself, something I literally never did. I bought a 3DS and Pokemon Sun and never looked back. I loved it. My first real pokemon game. (My parents were not happy when they found out lol). I spent so many hours. I got big into breeding perfect IV pokemon (idk why cause I never did online battles) or shiny breeding. I used to work til 11 pm some nights and before bed I'd just do some breeding. I would have the pokemon in the perfect ball and have all the egg moves and perfect IVs and nature and have the perfect nick name cause I was obsessive like that oof. I got ultra moon when it came out as well and loved it. I also bought pokemon X and Omega Ruby which I enjoyed. But Sun and Ultra Moon I played many times and bred so many perfect pokemon.

I did pick up roms around this time for Heart Gold, Soul Silver, Black and White and the sequels, and maybe Platinum? But they ran really slow on my computer so I never made it far. I preferred playing on my 3ds. But I still played quite a bit of Sky rom.

I was, less excited about Sword and Shield. I saved up a whole year to buy my switch and bought Lets go Eevee, Botw, and Sword when Gen 8 came out. I did inhale the entire game of Sword in one week, but I don't think I ever finished a second playthrough. The story was really disappointing and I did not like the gen 8 pokemon as much. It's hard when you're not a big fan of any of the starter evolutions, cause pressing B for every level up is tedious :(

I did enjoy Lets Go Eevee but after I loaned it to my bestie I had troubled getting back in. The ball throwing was a little off putting.

Oh I also bought Mystery dungeon Rescue Dx and I enjoyed that quite a bit!

Last summer I was struggling a lot with my emotions and frustration with my mom and as a form of therapy started spending money oof. I wanted a second DS so I could trade back and forth and make my life easier. It took a lot of bidding on Goodwill online but I snagged a second 2ds, legit copy of pmd sky! and pmd gates to infinity. And Pokemon Soul Silver! Also I bought the digital versions of gen 1 and 2 before the eshop closed.

I also bought Shining Pearl cause it went super on sale, but after I lent it to my bestie I haven't played since. I actually dont like too many gen 4 pokemon besides Glaceon, Leafeon, and Chatot.

Playing pokemon mystery dungeon on a 3ds instead of a computer keyboard was so much more satisfying. I played through Sky and loved it of course. Then I picked up Gates to Infinity which I never knew the story. I enjoyed it! I was and Oshawott with partner Snivy.

This brings me to last late summer, and the turtle brainrot set in and grew. Less pokemon, more turtles! I debated back and forth whether to get Scarlet or Violet up til the day it released. And then I just didn't. I watched playthroughs though. Seems pretty good and I like a lot of the pokemon, especially after gen 8 when I struggled to find enough to fill out a team of 6. I only like to use pokemon I like. I'm sure I'll get it someday but for now, turtles have my brain.

And that's my pokemon origin story! Still mad about my mom selling all our pokemon plushies. I do still have my cousins pokemon cards and I treasure them <3

I am very adamant about my pokemon having the perfect nick names.

Umbreon is my favorite pokemon <3

Not surprisingly this got very very long. If you made it this far, have a Leppa Berry <3

[flansterthefilm]

The Museum of Fat Albert

The mega-structure, the mecca, The Museum of Fat Albert.

It stood before me as I observed from the parking lot, near speechless at the scale of it all. Only one story high high and yet glistening in the Ohio sunlight in its gold plated glory. The tops of the building domed, emulating a castle of a mythical world. The sign glowing, blinding me more than the sun’s puny light ever could, reading “Fat Alb rt Museum”. The lights of the first E had been burnt out but that wasn’t an issue, the rest of what captured my attention more than made up for it. Large agape double doors, both ten feet tall, greeted all those who dare have their minds warped by the treasure trove of knowledge that lay within. I would be one of those who dared, I would get to feel the pleasure of my favorite cartoon character.

The contrast between the indoor region of the complex was as palpable as it could get without it being visible. The blistering heat of the midwestern summer, tainted as it was by omnipresent greenhouse gasses, met a worthy foe in the form of the air conditioning that had been built in. The force of hundreds of hydrogen bombs blasted through the many thousands of vents allowing for a cool seventy degrees fahrenheit to permeate throughout the museum. All this led to my distraction at the lobby, what a sight.

A large open rotunda, a circular desk at its center. On either side of the desk, large inflatables of the cast of the show, the show of Fat Albert stood tall. 

The clerk within this semi-circle desk looked dead inside. Her hair was uncombed and frizzed to hell. Her glasses were sliding down her face as did her skin, warped with her age. What stood out the most was the lack of others in the lobby. 

As much as I looked around my eyes never landed on another soul barring the woman. Less of a wait to see the numerous exhibits I supposed. Still, the echoes of my footsteps bouncing around were notes of confusion as I walked.

The purchase of the ticket was swift. As I requested a day ticket the lady looked at me with her cold, dead eyes. Eyes that lived so many lives, eyes that weren’t happy in the life they did not find themselves in.  She didn’t speak as she rang me up and this made me doubt that she even could. His lips sat pursed upon her face. They looked swelled, so much so that the possibility that her ability to open them was met with dubiousness as I pondered. When she handed me the stubs that’d get me in I took note of her hand, lord her hands. So boney, saying “skin and bones” would do a disservice to the slenderness of the digits. Liver spots dotted her hand and they shook, the weight of the ticket being almost too much to handle on her own in this frail age. What did they do to you?

As a boy I had seen these eyes before. My great aunt, mother’s side, fought in Vietnam during the war. However, whereas her compatriots fought with guns and planes, she stood behind friendly lines, she was a nurse. Seldom did she speak of her experience during her years of lucidity, haunted by whatever it was she saw while there. And these years brought intrigue, my younger self, oblivious to horrors, asked her again and again what it was she saw while overseas. And, of course, she never answered, why would she? It wasn't until her mind began to slip in what ended up becoming the latter days of her life. Diseases ate away at her brain. Trapped in a shriveled husk of a cranium, her memories forced her way out and they found themselves exiting through mouth as she spoke. Sometimes they’d come back, sometimes they were out permanently. She was relieved by what she had done, what she had seen. The injuries of the men, those she saved and those she had let slip. Cursed with the knowledge of the extent that which humans have the capacity to operate on. The look of this lady that I would never know was that of my great aunt.

What did they do to you?

Beyond the desk, the inflatables, was the ticket taker. In keeping with the trend of machines replacing the human work force, the being that would authorize my entrance was an automaton. A cutout of Rudy, legs bent, one hand on his hip and the other outstretched, a slit in it to feed my ticket into. And that’s what I did, and as I did the small, waist high gates opened and allowed me passage.

The astonishment that would’ve taken over my eyes and my attention had been hindered by the visions of my long deceased relative in the vestige of that woman. I stood at the precipice of a long hall, longer than it had any right to be, I could see this through my admiration for Fat Albert. I doubted that anything that originated from a show like Fat Albert could warrant a hall of this size, even if all of the accompanying Cosby Kids were represented.

Again my footsteps acted as notes. Echoing through the hall, not another being in sight, no clothes to absorb the sound. 

On both sides of my body I saw artifacts encased in glass, artifacts I wouldn’t have expected to be physical. 

Dumb Donald’s wool beanie and the orange cap of Rudy, the microphone that Fat Albert himself would sing into in the intro of every episode. The memorabilia was astounding to say the least. Each item I saw exceeded the quality of the last. The offputting sounds of my lone footsteps were drowned out by the tenacity of those who put together the museum. Every little item, down to the shoes Mushmouth wore and the slide Dennis ruined, was accounted for. My neurons were being fried by the rate of the internal fire raging in my head. 

As a boy I would watch this show, this show with Fat Albert, and clap in delight as my favorite group of kids would find fun things to do together and find new solutions to tough problems. Every moral fiber of my body owes its existence and reinforcement to Fat Albert and those Cosby Kids.

The television, playing worn out VHS tapes and scratched DVDs, often was my only companion during the long nights. My parents worked late into the evening to make ends meet and hadn’t any siblings to speak of. So in the absence of anyone else I imprinted on whatever old cartoons we had laying around. Home release media was my first target of admiration, but it was Fat Albert and his shenanigans that was my first true love.

So it’s no wonder that the joy and euphoria of this place hit me like a dump truck filled to the brim with lead. I could have spent hours simply rummaging through the exhibits and taking it all in if it weren’t for the allure of whatever it was that I could next see. The only true consequence of this desire to see all on display was the speed at which I reached the end of the hall.

Contrary to my belief the hall didn’t twist or turn in order to fashion itself into a loop, something to guide the guests back to the lobby after a day well spent. It just… ended. Ended in a set of double doors, far less grand than the ones at the front entrance. They look like they’d be more at home in a restaurant’s back area, somewhere where the dingey nature of them couldn’t be seen by the public. Atop the doors sat a sign that read “UNDER RECONSTRUCTION”. Beneath the letters that had been crossed out was “CONSIDERATION”. A room under reconsideration rather than reconstruction was an oddity 

I looked back at the hall I had just walked, then to the door, then back to the hall. No one in sight. Not a single person who cared enough to walk down. However this also meant that there wasn’t a single person to see me trespass. I paid for my tickets, it was only fair that I see more of what this place had to offer, sign be damned.

The doors opened slowly, the rusted hinges screaming as they did so. Neglect was the likely culprit. The “reconsideration” this section was being put under should have remained a reconstruction, or rather just a construction as this room was near barren. All that inhabited it was a glass casing, like the hall before it. However this casing was separated from the wall, it just sat square in what must’ve been the center of the room. I couldn’t be certain as to where it sight exactly, the room was dark, dark enough for the case in the center of a circle of light shining from a single lamp above, to be the only thing visible.

I walked, my footsteps did not echo.

I could hear my own breaths as they cautiously left my body. The cool climate of the rest of the museum had left me, and in its place was the warm stuffiness of where I found myself then. Humidity overtook me, just seconds in and I began to sweat from my brow. 

Flight logs. Brown Hornet related handkerchiefs, an image of Fat Albert with an old man… Jeffery Epstein.

No… no… no no no no.

My eyes widened, being irritated by the wind of my heavy breaths. I stepped back from the case as I tried to muster the slightest peep from my lips, something to prove to myself that I could control the situation, something to prove that whatever happens could be handled. 

Something from behind the case, a noise. The opening of a door hinges like the one from behind me. I stepped back further, nearing the exit, getting ready to make my escape at the slightest sign of danger.

Footsteps, not echoing, approaching me, from behind the case to the left. Large ones, a large man no doubt.

From behind the case emerged him: Fat Albert.

He saw the look of pure fear that had washed over my face. I could only assume that he knew that I knew too much. He reached his hand out.

“Hey kid…” he spoke to me in his deep, rough voice. “You ever wanted to meet Kevin Spacey?”

At near the speed of sound I whipped my body around and darted out the door. I sprinted down the hall, past all the artifacts I had once considered the highlight of my day, now painful reminders of the man I had once idolized. The absurd length of the hallway was being noticed by me now, it felt like I should’ve been at the exit by now, no avail.

But eventually I did, strafing left to avoid the center desk in the lobby. I took one last look at the clerk. Her boney hand reached out as her face gave me the impression that she’d been aware of everything and was here against her will. No matter, I needed to leave.

I still think about that place, The Museum of Fat Albert.