#glad my delirium is entertaining

[froggytoess]

Incorrect thg text posts 2

(Part 2 to say Ty for all love in the first one ❤️❤️)

Again Inspired by @imisslucasbaker + @swiftlark

Part 1

[for-the-urizen]

I'm not going to talk about everything I loved about the latest chapter, but here are a few of my favourites. Spoilers for Hunter: The Parenting Chapter 5

I love how even though we've been given no reason to like him, Remold is shown to be an excellent Hunter in his own right when he's not distracted by his hatred for D.

It would've been easy for Ogrepoppenang to make him a fraud, and I'm really glad they didn't go down that route. Continuing in the same vein, I also really like how even when he's shown to be under the effect of Delirium, as seen from the shape of his pupils, he's still able to focus on destroying the Hunter Data.

I don't know if it's force of will, Hunter instinct or Fatigue's training, but it's awesome all the same. The last detail on the Blacklaws, I found it strangely heartwarming how Brok refuses to even entertain the possibility that Git or Spit could have been responsible for Fatigue's murder. Sure, they're all awful, but they look out for each other. My favourite detail is how even though he appears completely unaffected by the Delirium, D is also scared shitless when Matilda transforms. It really sells just how horrifying werewolves are that even D is struggling not to panic. Someone on youtube pointed out that after his first fight with Matilda, D has bloody clawmarks in his neck, but moments later when he tells everyone to GTFO, they're gone. And finally my favourite scene is when Kitten and the others appear in the hole in the wall and unleash everything they have at Matilda because the artwork for that moment, coupled with the music and Kitten's animalistic roar when he sees Markus in her claws, is just so damn good.

[ratherembarrassing]

2025: week 5

with a bonus monday to make this london week because what the hell else happened this week besides that? uh, nothing.

perth to london, qf9. it's a coin toss on whether this was actually better overall than going via singapore or the middle east. between the flight to flight to perth, the layover, and the delay to departure, all up it took 29 hours from leaving my house to arriving at heathrow, and only 18 of those hours were the long flight. on the other hand, having 17+ hours to sit, eat a food, watch an entire tv season, and then sleep (albeit badly) for 10 hours? is really nice? at the very least it made me pumped for when they launch the melbourne to london and new york direct flights. 21 hours and it's done and dusted? yes. please.

big mood, season 1 (qantas' in flight entertainment thing / channel 4, 2024). it's tradition now to find the dark british comedy on the long haul flight entertainment system and holy heck, this is dark. nicola coughlan is an actual treasure.

theatah: the devil wears prada: the musical (dominion theatre, west end). what i was trying to get at in my exhausted delirium is that when a movie is bad and then turned into a musical, musicals make all that bad worse. anyway, it was fine, i'm glad i went, no one will remember this happened three years from now.

theatah: elektra (duke of york's theatre, west end). every review of this hated it for a different reason, but whatever, i really enjoyed it. a special shout out to the american sitting behind me who said out loud my exact thought: this staging is exactly like the jessica chastain a doll's house. which was true, but also entirely irrelevant for reasons that will become apparent. brie larson is polarizing in the best of circumstances, and these were not the best of circumstances, but the take seems to be that this production was ultimately impenetrable. i think reviewers need to harden the fuck up, if i was fine while almost unconscious from exhaustion. also: stockard channing!

theatah: much ado about nothing (theatre royal drury lane, west end). aaaaaaaaarguably the reason i detoured into london in the first place. it was cute! people love to hate jamie lloyd, and i don't think the crux of those complaints will be overcome with this one. my issue was mostly just that it felt like it was set in a season of love island, which is a comparison i am now equipped to make, and that's just not how i like my art to feel. this was an especially odd vibe because the staging deployed the apparently very on trend empty warehouse thing.a real mixed bag of approaches. as for the celebrities of it all, it was opening night and the people were there for tom hiddleston. it was irritating. it's always irritating. can we bully these people a bit more to get this screaming for the actors thing to stop? and i didn't die from being in the same room as hayley atwell, so that's nice.

jolene, redchurch street. i would be here every day if this was my local. every bakery should do a mean lemon meringue pie.

the dusty knuckle, dalston. i did not let the disgusting laneway put me off: the food was fucking incredible. grilled cheese with an onioniny jam was the best grilled cheese i've eaten in years, pip and nut turnover i will dream about. if you go, get their lemonade.

regency cafe, westminster. sometimes hipsters are right about things, and they are right about this. you should be a little afraid while you try to get some food. it's good for the blood or something. they sold me like a pint of orange juice for £2.70, which is a bar against which i will measure every restaurant forever now.

tate britain. i'd never been before, and that was a mistake! for years i have been thwarted in seeing turners whenever i am in a place that ordinarily has turners on display. why had i then never been to the tate britain? because i did not know! they have an entire wing of turners! as well as an entire wing of all the other things! @notabuddhist is a great art museum buddy, which is the best trait a person can possess. she even hurried through the last two rooms with me when i needed to leave to get a donut halfway across london.

something that did not happen: me getting my donut halfway across london. and it's all the fault of jeremy clarkson and his tory farmers, as the cab driver put it. fuck that guy, i wanted my donut.

barbican: including this feels like a lie, but i did wander through and feel awe and wonder. but i did not get very much time, because see next item.

something that did happen: so there i am going on a casual wander from shoreditch to bask in the brutalist glory that is the barbican. a song in my heart, a coffee in my hand, and a vague idea of where i'm going, but not much more than that. a great time for my phone to die. a perfect time for my power bank to be completely flat. first time since 2008 when iphones were first released in australia that i was abandoned in this way. thank you curry's, for taking me for an absolute ride while selling me a new power bank.

shout outs: the lizzy line (so nice, so clean, always got my back (because i am always going to and from an airport)), the afternoon lost to getting from stratford to dalston on a rail replacement bus through what i'm pretty sure was a crime scene, m&s salt and balsamic vinegar crisps (why are you the most delicious salt and vinegar chips i've ever eaten and why did i only buy one bag), love island and morley's.

[foxes-that-run]

Taylor Swift’s Telltale Heart - Vanity Fair

By Nancy Jo Sales March 15, 2013 (x)

Swift’s friend said that the Styles situation is completely misrepresented in the media. This young woman claimed that Styles “chased” Swift for a year: “He wore her down.” And then, last spring, she said, there was a weekend “where they got really close, and he was all, like, ‘You’re amazing—I want to be with you. I want to do this.’

[...]

Girls, hosts Tina Fey and Amy Poehler mounted the stage with drinks in hand, making light of their disappointment by appearing bitter and drunk. “Everyone’s getting a little loose now that we’re all losers,” Poehler joked. “Congratulations, Lena,” said Fey. “I’m glad we got you through middle school.” The camera cut to Dunham shaking with laughter and clutching her gold statuette. “It’s getting sloppy in here, everybody,” Fey went on. “Look at how drunk Glenn Close is.” Close played along, simulating delirium tremens. And then: “You know what, Taylor Swift,” said Fey, shaking a finger. “You stay away from Michael J. Fox’s son.”

The joke wouldn’t have worked without the audience being aware of Swift’s highly scrutinized romantic life, the stuff of tabloid obsession. The 23-year-old music mega-star has dated some of the entertainment world’s most visible bachelors (Jake Gyllenhaal, Taylor Lautner, John Mayer, Joe Jonas), only to write chart-topping songs about how they allegedly broke her heart—or she theirs. She made $57 million last year and has become one of the best-selling female recording artists in music history, all while gaining sweet revenge. So the zinger hit home, and the audience exploded with laughter, and, as if it were middle school all over again, some went “Ooooooh.”

“Or go for it, or go for it,” Poehler interjected as the camera cut to a grinning Michael J. Fox (whose handsome 23-year-old son, Sam, was this year’s “Mr. Golden Globe”). “No,” said Fey. “She needs some ‘me’ time to learn about herself.” That got another big laugh. In gossip news that week: Swift had allegedly been left by Harry Styles, the then 18-year-old lead moppet of the British boy band One Direction and her boyfriend of a few months.

Swift, who had also lost that night, for best original song (she was nominated along with John Paul White, Joy Williams, and T Bone Burnett for “Safe and Sound,” from The Hunger Games), to Adele (who won for “Skyfall,” from the James Bond film), was in the ladies’ room at the time. So she didn’t hear the sound of everybody who was anybody in Hollywood laughing at her for allegedly having her heart broken all over again. It was the kind of thing that happens in a Taylor Swift song: nice girl gets made fun of by mean girl while powdering her nose, then goes home and writes a song about it—which becomes a No. 1 hit.

When asked by Access Hollywood a week later if she was afraid that Swift would write a song about her, Fey said, “I hope so. I would love it!” And maybe she will. When we were discussing that moment at the Golden Globes, and mean girls in general, Swift just smiled and said, “You know, Katie Couric is one of my favorite people because she said to me she had heard a quote that she loved”—from former secretary of state Madeleine Albright—“that said, ‘There’s a special place in hell for women who don’t help other women.’ ”

[...]

We had dinner—chicken sandwiches and lavender lemonade ordered in from one of her favorite spots—at her dining table, which sits cozily alongside her open kitchen. She kept using the word “situation”—she spoke of a “drama situation” and a “guy situation”—and I asked her if “situation” was now a “thing.” “Could I be paving the way for ‘situation’?” she joked. “I think so,” I said. “This situation is amazing,” she said. She was funny.

And then our conversation turned to the Golden Globes. “I was just sort of like, Oh well, you know, I can laugh at myself,” Swift said. “But what it ended up adding to was this whole kind of everyone jumping on the bandwagon of ‘Taylor dates too much’—which, you know, if you want some big revelation, since 2010 I have dated exactly two people.” Conor Kennedy and Harry Styles. “And the fact that there are slide shows,” she said, “of a dozen guys that I either hugged on a red carpet or met for lunch or wrote a song with but I apparently was, quote unquote, ‘linked’ to them—it’s just kind of ridiculous.”

[...]

She has a point. Joe Jonas is no stranger to dating (Camilla Belle, Ashley Greene, Demi Lovato), nor is Jake Gyllenhaal (Reese Witherspoon, Natalie Portman, Kirsten Dunst) or John Mayer (too many to list). Even Harry Styles, who’s only 19, has been seen around with plenty of girls (and older women, including 33-year-old British TV presenter Caroline Flack). But nobody calls them the kinds of names that get thrown at Swift. “They’re ‘playboys,’ ” Swift says wryly. “They’re ‘having fun.’ ”

She won’t go into personal details about any of her relationships—it’s one of her rules—but she does authorize someone who knows her well to discuss them with me. The fact that this information—once the purview of Seventeen and Tiger Beat—now counts as actual “news” is perplexing, but here we go:

Swift’s friend said that the Styles situation is completely misrepresented in the media. This young woman claimed that Styles “chased” Swift for a year: “He wore her down.” And then, last spring, she said, there was a weekend “where they got really close, and he was all, like, ‘You’re amazing—I want to be with you. I want to do this.’ ” Soon after that, when Styles was on tour in Australia with One Direction, he allegedly texted Swift to alert her to a picture of himself on the Internet “kissing a friend good-bye,” but said, “It’s no big deal.” When Swift searched online for the picture, however, she found that they were “making out like with their hands all up in each other’s hair.”

A rep for Styles, Benny Taranti at Columbia Records, called all of Swift’s friend’s claims “undeniably false.”

Swift ended the relationship, continued her friend, after which Styles allegedly pursued her for the better part of a year, professing his devotion and promising never to stray again. “So then they got back together, but the whole time she says she feels like he’s looking at every girl and thinking about hooking up with every girl.” And then, when they were in London sometime in the last few months, the boy-band balladeer allegedly “disappears one night and after that it was like he just didn’t want to keep going.” Now, said the friend, he is allegedly texting Swift “again nonstop, like ‘Where are you? Call me. Are you back?’ ”

At the Grammys in February, Swift made headlines again by seeming to reference Styles during her performance of “We Are Never Getting Back Together”: “So he calls me up and he’s like, ‘I still love you,’ ” she said with what seemed to be an English accent. “And I’m like, ‘I’m sorry, I’m busy opening up the Grammys.’ ”

I asked Swift’s friend if she found it odd that Swift’s last two relationships had been with such young men—teenagers, actually. Conor Kennedy, the son of Robert F. Kennedy Jr., was just 17, technically jailbait, and a senior at Deerfield Academy when they started seeing each other last summer. The friend said that Conor was “just like a two-month thing,” and that Swift “says he was awesome,” although his youthfulness did prove to be an issue. “It was like a pendulum for her, swinging back and forth. She dated Jake [Gyllenhaal] and John [Mayer] when she was really young and they were in their 30s, and she got really hurt. So it was like ‘That hurt—this won’t hurt.’ But then it did.”

[...]

[chaisarinawat]

Chai was glad to see that P'Dan was better, he was even able to hold a conversation, the delirium from the night before when his fever had spiked gone. It must have broken while they slept, because his boss was definitely more focussed, able to speak and respond to Chai's questions. He was somewhat confused about what they were doing on the same bed, but must've realised quickly as to the reason why since the medicine packets and the soup and water were still on the bedside table. They had both been exhausted.

The young assistant glanced away bashfully when Dan thanked him for taking care of him the night before, t

"I - was really out of it last night, huh? Thank you for, ah, for taking care of me... I didn't make it to my own bed..."

Chai glanced away bashfully, the acknowledgement making him feel warm inside. He didn't take care of Dan just for the recognition, he did it out of the goodness of his heart, but it was nice to hear those words anyway, because it made him feel like he was useful to others.

Dan was about to leave and go back to his bed when Chai spoke to him about calling him phi. His boss was giving him a weird look - like he didn't understand what was going on, as though the way Chai was acting wasn't what he was expecting. And Chai supposed that made sense, since Dan had been totally out of it the night before, not registering any of their conversation. Still, the young assistant felt a little self-conscious, thinking of a way to bring up what Dan had said in his sleep naturally so that this would make sense to him.

"It's not a big deal, Chai... If - you want to call me Phi, that's not a problem. Are you doing it because the others were saying something about it? It's - you don't have to do it, if that's the only reason. But I'd prefer it, honestly. It makes me feel closer to you. Did you want me to call you 'Nong', too"?

"W-whoa - P'Dan! Did you read my mind?" Chai shifted so he was sitting on his knees, looking at P'Dan in amazement at what he just said. That had been the reason Chai wanted to change the way he spoke with Dan, so that they could be closer to each other and rid themselves of the awkward uncomfortable tension that seemed to follow them around. If Dan was thinking the same thing, and if he preferred it, then Chai was happy to follow along. He wasn't pressured by the staff at all - but now, he truly felt like he was part of the Dragon Entertainment family. "I want to call you Phi for the same reason!"

After feeling P'Dan's forehead and hearing the other tell him that he was alright, Chai's smile grew. He was about to hop off out of the bed to see if Dan needed anything else, when the other reached up to press a palm against his forehead too. Chai froze, but not out of fear - but because Dan was actually reciprocating and he saw that as a sign of progress.

"How about you? Are you okay? Are you feeling sick?"

"I totally fine Phi," Chai assured him. "No fever at all."

"Did I do anything weird last night? Said anything? I don't remember what we talked about..."

Chai watched as Dan hesitated, the man appearing as though he were trying to think back to what he might have spoken about before passing out.

"Was it something I said? About what happened in Japan?"

Dan removed his hand, the breath he released heavy and burdened. Chai hated that his boss was still harbouring so much guilt over something that had been a complete misunderstanding, and wanted to put an end to it now. Dan didn't need reminding that what he had done wasn't right, but Chai recognised that he needed something else instead to make him feel better - reassurance.

"You said a few things, Phi," Chai told him. "You talked about your brother. I wasn't really able to make it out well. I know he's getting married to that heir - Khun Anon? You mentioned his name and that you would marry him instead." Chai explained, cocking his head to the side. Did Dan have feelings for his brother's fiancée? If that was the case, did that mean he didn't have feelings for Chai anymore? "It sounded a bit like a drama, Phi. Someone's life was getting ruined - but I don't know how or why. If it was a dream, it was a very bad one - you were moving around a lot beneath the sheets."

After explaining about the dream, Chai quietened down for a moment to think about how he would answer the next question.

"Y-yes Phi, you brought up Japan. B-but it wasn't bad!" Chai said quickly, so that the other wouldn't interrupt him with more apologies or try to push him away. They had to bury this hatchet, and if Dan wasn't brave enough to address his feelings then Chai had to do it instead. It wasn't like him, he usually avoided confrontation of any kind - but this was important, otherwise working for P'Dan was going to be impossible.

"Phi, I forgave you for Japan a long time ago," Chai said softly. "It was a misunderstanding. I didn't know that..." That you liked me. Chai didn't finish the sentence, swallowing instead before continuing. "I didn't know you still felt so guilty. I know you're not a bad person, you're the total opposite. You're very kind to me and I really love working under you. I don't want you to feel upset over what happened anymore, especially because I don't," Chai's face heated up again as he glanced down, chewing his bottom lip a little. He didn't know if he should bring up how Dan said he liked him - he wanted to, but didn't want to embarrass the other, especially if his feelings had changed and he now liked his brother's fiancée. "I'm not scared of you, and I'm not trying to avoid you. I-I hope you know that. And I'm sorry if I acted in a way that made you think that. I really... I really want to be close to you P'Dan."

Chai could feel his heart pounding. Why did this sound like a confession? Did he also like P'Dan? Even though the man was his boss? The more he got to know him, the more Chai realised how great of a person he was.

"Chai... Wake up. Chai... Chai... Chai?"

Chai heard his name being called in the midst of his deep sleep, slowly coaxing him awake. His arms were wrapped around something - someone - warm, and he tightened the hold in protest as he felt his body gently being shaken. He let out a little whine, unhappy at being woken up and instead remained where he was, cuddling the person beside him.

"Is it time for work already Phi?" Chai mumbled into what felt like a firm chest, thinking that maybe he needed to get ready for one of his jobs and that Warun was trying to wake him up. If he was supposed to be at The Playroom right now, he didn't want to go - though, Chai was already pushing it, since he had taken two nights off now because of his trip with Dan.

The trip... Dan... his boss had been so sick, Chai had been taking care of him... that's the last thing Chai remembered doing before succumbing to sleep himself. But he hadn't gone over to the free bed, he had been so tired so...

He had slept beside Khun Dan instead.

Chai opened his bleary eyes, blinking up a few times. He stared up at the man who was looking at him, a worried expression on his face. Chai's first thought was not to panic - he recalled the one-sided conversation he had had with a sick P'Dan the night before, where the other confessed his guilt because he thought that Chai had liked him back when they were in Japan. It had been a misunderstanding, his boss realised he was in the wrong, was still apologising for it, and Chai had forgiven him. He didn't want to make Khun Dan feel even worse by pushing him away, when Chai had been the one to fall asleep next to him in the first place. Wait, did that mean Chai was now the one taking advantage of another person?? Oh, maybe he was panicking just a little...

"...H-hi," Chai said softly, loosening his hold around Dan's waist. "S-sorry... I was so tired, I must have fallen asleep here instead of going to the other bed... I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, P'Dan."

Chai's eyes widened as he sat up, his face turning pink as he realised he had called Dan something different. He had asked his boss if it was okay to call him phi now - but Dan had been knocked out, sick and medicated, so of course the other couldn't remember their conversations. He probably didn't remember anything from the night before, about how Chai had told him about his own life before forgiving him for Japan and calling him a good boss. Or even his bad dream about his brother's fiancée, which probably happened because of stress and fever. Chai figured he should tell the other these things, soon. "O-oh, I"m sorry... the production crew were laughing at me yesterday because I kept calling you khun, t-they said I can call you phi now, but I didn't ask you if you were okay with that." Chai rambled, his nervousness showing. "I-I thought it might be nice... but I won't do it if you don't want me to."

Chai remained seated on the bed, turning to face Dan. "Are you feeling better?" He asked, reaching over to feel the man's forehead, used to the contact now and trying to show Dan that he wasn't afraid of the two of them touching any more. "You look much better." Chai smiled. "Do you... do you remember anything we talked about last night?"

[itsjamethyst]

A Descent into Delicious Delirium by J_Amethyst for swisstae

Title: A Descent into Delicious Delirium

Rating: M

Wordcount: 27,273

Content Tags: Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Quidditch Player Draco Malfoy, Enemies to Lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Sexual Tension, Implied Sexual Content, Sexual Humor, Drinking, Clubbing, Drunk Harry Potter, Bets & Wagers, Pining Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter in Denial, Period-Typical Homophobia, Quidditch Seekers, The Daily Prophet.

Harry makes a few piss-poor decisions. Malfoy’s still a rich prick. The lesson to be learned here: Don’t engage in a disastrous game of chicken. Unless, of course, you enjoy the idea of a naked photoshoot, and the entire Wizarding World believing you get off on Malfoy. The following is a recount of the course of events that unfolded. *All named persons have consented to the retelling of this story with stipulations of authorial dramatic flair. The author does not condone the views expressed and reflected by Rita Skeeter, The Daily Prophet, and other associated entities.

Now to thank some truly wonderful people, and a customary over-the-top spiel about how sappy I am about this fic.

I am unbelievably over the moon to finally talk about and share this fic with everyone. Writing this was such an amazing experience, and is possibly one of my favourite fics I've written to date. I feel like I say this every time a new fic gets revealed, but honestly speaking, every time I think about this fic I feel all happy inside.

Now that this fic is revealed, I can finally share that this Several Sentence Sunday post that a lot of people seemed to like is actually the deleted scene from this fic.

I want to thank everyone who helped make this story possible, so without further ado, give it up to all these phenomenal people: My alphas, @manixzen and @fantalf, you are both wonderful and were absolutely integral to this fic. From helping me with the tone and the pacing, and perfecting the events of the story.

To my beta @cam-the-chameleon, I don't even know what to say, because no words seem enough. Without you I don't think this fic would have even be possible. You are so thorough and your suggestions are always genius, some of my all time favourite moments in this fic were from your brilliant mind (WAGGLY, Horny Porker, doesn’t seem so inclined to keep away from big pairs of balls!) -- just to name a few.

Seriously, I am so proud of this story and I hope that everyone who read it enjoyed it as much as I did writing.

To the @quidditchfest mods, thank you for creating such an amazing fest. This was the very first fest I ever signed up to, and all I can say is that I am so glad to have participated.

Finally, to @swisstae. Your comments on every chapter of this fic were amazing, I am truly astonished. Thank you so, so much for all your love on that fic, I can't stop myself from going back and reading your comments... And dying a bit inside.

This fic was a lot of firsts. For one, it went through many, many changes during its infant stage. The time skips and the Prophet Article titles actually came a lot later on in the writing process. I was about half way into the fic when I completely changed the whole timeline, shifted scenes around, and decided to try the time skip headings. It was all a bit experimental, I had no idea if I was going to keep it in the final cut, but at the end of the day I'm so glad I did, because the time skips make Delicious Delirium what it is.

For the first time, I tried my hand at a little more light-hearted humour. Most of the fic is just me trying to make myself giggle with my shitty twelve-year-old humour. I'm so glad that my beta Cam shares this same humour, because we really did bounce off each other perfectly. Re: Horny Porker, doesn’t seem so inclined to keep away from big pairs of balls!

The Prophet Articles were also really entertaining to write, my favourite one is the Lockhart article. If you've read the fic, you know the one. Am I allowed to give myself a pat in the back for coming up with that Lockhart joke? Because I love it, and I was absolutely grinning when a commenter pointed that one out.

Thank you to everyone who engaged with the fic, it means the world.

[saipng]

tbh im here for the cringeporium, i have not and probably won't ever watch businessmen succ show but the posts about it are very entertaining

i’m genuinely glad you find joy in my delirium, you a real one

[sophieellisbextorarchives]

Lockdown's dancing queen: Sophie Ellis Bextor explains how she's survived with five sons while performing web concerts from her kitchen - and owes her life to the NHS after almost dying during childbirth

SOURCE: https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-8371137/Sophie-Ellis-Bextor-talks-surviving-lockdown-five-sons-performing-concerts-kitchen.html

Any mother of five who is still sane after two-and-a-half months of lockdown will surely have some survival tips for the rest of us. And Sophie Ellis-Bextor does indeed have advice.

Come Friday night, when the textbooks have been flung in a corner and you've finished screeching at the kids, you should dig out your heels and put on your sparkliest hot pants, she says.

'If you don't own a sequined one-piece, you should get one,' the singer insists. 'They make you feel like a disco superhero!'

She would also recommend a glitterball to hang in the kitchen. It will distract from the dirty dishes, she says.

Tidying the kitchen is optional, though: 'I do try to but if there's the odd dish in the sink, who cares?'

When the history of the great British lockdown is written, there will be villains (take a bow, Dominic Cummings) and heroes.

And Sophie Ellis-Bextor will surely be in line for a medal, for services to the national dancefloor (kitchen disco division).

Every Friday night for ten weeks she has donned her own glad rags and, via the magic of social media, invited us all to a disco round at hers.

She has been in charge of the mic, singing her own hits (with tweaks) and cover versions of some of her other favourites (speaking of favourite things, she even does a mean Julie Andrews).

Each week she has changed the lyrics of one of her biggest hits, Take Me Home, to the lockdown-friendly Stay At Home. We cheered. We heeded. 'Well, most people did,' she says.

Lots of entertainers have been doing their stuff in lockdown. Few of them have done so with five children in tow, though, and with such pizzazz.

You'd never guess it from the size of her waist but 41-year-old Sophie — whose mother is former Blue Peter presenter Janet Ellis — has five sons, aged from 16 down to 16 months. Her family life has never really been a part of her work.

But at the start of lockdown, something changed and she decided to stop being so precious about the work/home life divide.

'I've always been quite private, never showing the kids' faces, that sort of thing,' she says.

'But suddenly it all felt totally irrelevant. I just had this desire to sort of connect with people, to have fun and do something that just distracted us all — and for me, as an entertainer, that meant getting up and putting on a show.

'If it was going to be a show in my own house, the kids had to be involved as we're all locked down together. That overwhelmed any other emotion, really.

'I said to them, 'We're going to have a party. Do you want to come? What do you want to wear?'

'We pulled out all manner of sequined things we already had. They got out costumes, hats, whatever. There were no rules. They could be in their pyjamas if they wanted, because they often are.

'At the end of the first one, I remember making a joke like, 'This could be the end of my career.' '

In another time, it could have been. What too-cool-for-school singer sashays around the Lego, for goodness' sake? And what pop star hoicks a baby onto her hip, limbos around the lightsabers or attempts some sexy strutting when there is a pint-sized Superman in the way?

'It has been quite surreal, hasn't it?' she says with a laugh. 'But this whole situation is surreal, so I guess it has been fitting.

'We've had all sorts — the kids joining in, or sitting there bored with it all as I dance around them. We've had the baby crawling across the floor, trying to pull the plug out of the router. It's not stuff you normally have to contend with when you go on stage.'

And the performances have been all the more magical for it, I suggest. Her kitchen discos have been in keeping with the national mood, which lurches between delirium and despair and involves much trying to get on with the day job, with the kids at our feet.

All our kids are represented in hers, too. There is Sonny, 16 and a typical teenager, who mostly rolls his eyes at the idea of being in his mum's disco 'but actually he's invaluable because he helps with the baby so I can relax'.

Kit, 11, has 'kind of dipped in and out of the discos. He has missed a few. Sometimes he'd just rather do something else'.

Ray, eight, and Jesse, four, are generally game for anything — but if the children all join in at the same time, while wearing masks, the potential for chaos is high.

Last is baby Mickey, who likes to reach for bright lights. And cables. And sparkly shoes.

'I think what has kept some people tuning in is the music, but others are only watching to see if any of my kids injure themselves,' Sophie says.

People may also be tuning in to see her game attempts at making the most inappropriate songs kid-friendly. Her new repertoire includes the highly suggestive Prince song Gett Off. If the kids ask, it's a song about getting off the climbing frame, she explains.

When we speak, Sophie is preparing for — sob! — the last lockdown disco. Kitchen Disco No 10 will finish with a rousing rendition of the Madness hit Our House, which contains the lines 'Our house it has a crowd/ There's always something happening/ And it's usually quite loud'.

How apt. That sums up family life in all its messy glory.

It will be the end of a very weird chapter for Sophie.

'We could keep going but I'm getting the feeling that lockdown is being eased. There is a different feel, so it's time to stop. Although I'm bad at saying 'never again'.'

It has been a blast — and Sophie admits she has benefited herself.

'The discos have done my soul and my spirit the world of good. I've always turned to music anyway when anything has been happening in my life, good or bad, but I don't know what shape the past few months would have taken without this outlet.

'I've been doing cover versions of songs and they have all basically been like love letters to people I can't see any more.'

Lockdown came earlier for this household than for most of us. One of the children showed symptoms even before the schools closed, so they all isolated early.

That Sophie's stepfather — Janet's husband, John Leach — was having chemotherapy as part of his cancer treatment made the situation even more serious.

They are a close family. Janet, who lives only a few streets away in West London, is used to popping in and out, and provides childcare once a week. Any contact at all between them stopped overnight, as it did for so many families.

'I haven't hugged my mum since I don't remember when,' Sophie says. 'They couldn't leave their house at all at the beginning, so it was a case of leaving some groceries on the doorstep. My stepfather has Stage Four lung cancer and was in the middle of chemo, which had to stop.

'Now, thankfully, it has restarted but it has been a terrible time — devastating, really. For so many families the world has just tilted.' The older children understand why they can't see their grandparents, the little ones less so.

This is a united family (Sophie's mum split from her father, film and television producer Robin Bextor, but they are all on good terms), yet not necessarily one that ever did things by the rulebook.

Many will recall the furore when Janet — then the nation's darling, as many Blue Peter presenters were — fell pregnant with Sophie's brother Jackson. She was unmarried at the time and it was a national scandal.

It sounds as if Janet was the sort of mother Sophie has become — old-fashioned about some things (table manners, eating together) but more relaxed about others. And Mum having a slightly crazy day job was par for the course.

'I remember going with her when she did a skydive. She was in the Guinness Book of Records at one point for the highest-altitude jump for a female. At the time it was just normal.'

Janet didn't mind when Sophie decided she would not go to university because she wanted to join a band. 'Many parents would have said, 'No, we have paid for this private education. You will go,' but they never did. They were completely supportive.'

And of course, it worked out. Sophie started to get attention in the industry in the Nineties with indie band Theaudience — but in 2000 her career went mainstream thanks to a feature spot on the song Groovejet (If This Ain't Love) by Spiller.

Further hits followed. Then, in 2013, she went even more mainstream, signing up for Strictly Come Dancing. Her Charleston was a thing of wonder but she lost in the final to Abbey Clancy.

She knew her husband, The Feeling bassist Richard Jones, for a year before they started dating. When they did, it was something of a whirlwind and she discovered she was pregnant within weeks.

'Sonny was premature, so he was actually born eight months after we got together. Weird maths.'

Then, finding that it was rather fun, they kept having children. 'In a way I think it sort of set the tone, having Sonny so early. We've never really known what it is to be just the two of us.'

Juggling a pop career with five children can't have been easy, but her laid-back approach must help.

Some aspects of her parenting style have come in handy in lockdown, she says. 'I try to get up and dressed myself, but I'm not bothered if they want to stay in their pyjamas,' she admits.

Other aspects of lockdown have been hard. She admits she is not a natural home schooler.

'With five, it has been really difficult keeping up with the school stuff. I think their teachers do a brilliant job and I can't compare.

'At the start I did try hard, but to be honest I was feeling a lot of pressure to be running the home and making them emotionally happy. I quit quite early, realising it was making me really tense and really unhappy.

'We've kept the eldest two doing more formal work (Sonny is in his GCSE year, she explains) but with the little ones it's more about projects they can do.'

She says it isn't practical — or even desirable — to turn their home into a school. 'I'm hoping that home is where they learn to interact with each other, where they learn how to be happy, how to be kind.'

They have all been clapping on the doorstep on a Thursday night, too, aware of the debt they owe the NHS.

Sophie's life was saved by doctors when she suffered from complications during her first two pregnancies and gave birth prematurely both times. Kit weighed just 2 lb 6 oz.

'Anyone who has ever had a loved one's life in the hands of hospital staff knows what it is to feel that gratitude,' Sophie says.

'If it wasn't for them, I wouldn't be here and neither would my first two.

'I'll never forget their faces, the doctors and nurses who treated us in the neonatal unit. You don't, because you owe them everything.'

To be a singer in this climate is perhaps to feel a little superfluous, but Sophie says the only things she can do are sing and dance. The reaction from the wider world to her 'little discos' has been heartwarming.

'If you can make people smile and laugh at how daft it all is, then you make a connection that is actually quite special.'

We are getting all wistful now, when I suggest that her sons will grow up knowing they were a part of something magical. She laughs.

'They are more likely to roll their eyes at their crazy mum dancing around and tell me to keep the noise down!'

[casualcatte]

RP Journal 8/24 and 8/25/2020

08/24/2020

The Bounty Call Elite Hunt was today and I was /severely/ disappointed in my own performance. Everyone else that came along with us was splendid, but for my own part -- Gods, I think my parents are turning over in their graves in shame. I’ve lived and breathed the Hunt since I could walk, yet I couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn today if my life depended on it. It was likely the fault of the aetheric blast I took immediately after I drew first blood on the beast, so I really shouldn’t be so hard on myself. Nan’to Vaadrage told me as much when we returned to Headquarters.

(Courtesy cut for length -- and for you to get your tissues!)

Regardless of my poor performance, we managed to take down the Elite Hunt with only a modicum of trouble. For a short while, it seemed like no one could get a blow to land on the beast until I landed that attack. After that, the others seemed to rally and fight all the harder -- while I mostly stayed behind a rock and tried not to puke my guts out like Zanshin Kutabare.

It was curious to see Loksia Grimheart with a bow, considering that when we’d gone hunting for coral she’d opted for a sword and shield. A woman of many talents, that. The others, Azazel Hasegawa and Ryza Eclipse I’d never before met, but they both did well between their various magicks. Still, I was glad to finally see the beast go down.

I stayed long enough to have a celebratory drink with everyone, then I stumbled off home. I wasn’t badly injured, but aetheric bullshit always messes with me. Gods, to say nothing of the two aetheryte trips. I know I’m trying to learn Astromancy and all, but some days I really, really hate aetherical magic.

I’m not sure how, but I managed to make it home, get cleaned up and changed out of my hunting leathers before falling face-first in my couch. Lorrendor, I knew, had gone back to Ul’dah, but I had no idea where that dragoon, Edgard Beaumont had gone. All I knew was that I was exhausted and had to rest.

The remainder of the night, I’m told, was passed in a fevered haze as the after-effects of the aether poisoning got to me. I don’t know what I said or what I did, but I have a feeling that I was a lot of trouble for Ardi.  Between you and I, journal, I was touched that he stayed right next to me, sitting on the floor beside the sofa, watching over me all night. 

Wilbur, a porxie familiar that was gifted to me by Rae-Hann, apparently put in an appearance when I started to have nightmares. He siphoned away the excess aether and that seemed to help me a fair bit. I’m sure that it was just a fever-dream, but I recall waking at one point with Edgard’s arms around me as he held me close, telling me that everything was going to be okay, that I was safe at home in my cabin. My face was wet from tears and I felt like I’d been screaming. The nightmares Wilbur took away must have been severe. I don’t remember much else except for a pink book that Ardi kept hiding.  Why would he need to hide a book?

I slept.  And this time I didn’t dream.

8/25/2020

When next I awoke, I sent Edgard off to get some fresh air and to stretch his muscles.  As I mentioned, he’d sat on the floor all night watching over me as I slept. No doubt that man was achy and in need of some activity.  While he was gone, I gingerly made my way to the bath and gave myself the promised soak I’d meant to have when I got home, but skipped in deference to sleep.  Once more dressed and ready to face the world, I settled back into my comforter nest on the sofa that Edgard had made me and read one of the books he’d left to keep me entertained, along with a cup of tea and some medicine to help with the nausea.

It was thus that I was found by Lorrendor Hauland when he came to visit. I was surprised to see him come all the way from Ul’dah, given that our last encounter had been… unsettling to say the least. I can’t really tell you what happened between then and now, but this Lorrendor was a different man entirely.

Have I not said before that every encounter with this man feels like it’s with a different person?  Today was no different.  This was a Lorrendor who was stiff and austere, emotionless save for the one point he laughed when I proclaimed him an automaton. He fetched me tea, he was exceedingly polite and complimentary. I told him at one point I half expected to hear him replying with “Yes, Mistress” and “Whatever you wish, Mistress” to everything I said ere long.

He kept saying that he was “Lorrendor as he should have been instead of the Lorrendor he became.”  So this was another version, another mask, as he tried to tamp down his love for me and simply be my friend. Sometimes it makes me wonder if the man has ever lived an honest life and if anyone knows who he truly is?  The many Lorrendors I know may be nothing at all like the Lorrendor that Loksia knows or anyone else among his friends.  There’s really no telling and there’s really no comparing notes.  I don’t know the man.  I’m not sure I ever will.  He doesn’t trust me enough to be himself around me and I don’t trust him enough /because/ he chooses to hide.

Still, I owe it to him to bring him with me into Dusk Vigil when I go. We’d tracked the Saurotaun to the ruin and think that it may be a lair for it, so that alone is worth investigating. He suggested I bring along people I trust.  Naturally, Edgard as my hunting partner, and Rae-Hann as my closest friend, and after some debate, Lorrendor.  He’d brought me this information to begin with, the least I could let him do was see it through to the end with me.

Somewhere during this conversation, Ardi returned from his walk. When I queried why he’d been gone so long, he said he’d gotten “distracted” then he tried to hide the same pink book he’d had yesterday behind his back. I tried to get it from him a number of times, even tried to get Lorrendor to fetch it when Ardi threw it across the room, alas.  Neither of us could foil that wily dragoon when he’s of a mind he has a secret to keep. 

With Edgard present, we discussed the plan for Dusk Vigil again and the dragoon recommended we make it a scouting mission in case the monstrosity was at home. If we saw it, we would retreat and come back with a more tactical plan. Part of me rankled at being made to wait, especially if it was /right there/ but I knew better than to argue. Certainly not with /both/ he and Lorrendor there.  

Eventually, Ardi and I settled into our usual banter with Lorrendor chastizing us both as children -- though this time we /were/ being pretty childish -- but all of us laughed and had some fun, I think.  Lorrendor needed to catch the last flight from Ishgard to Ul’dah, so he took his leave. 

Which left just Edgard and I.  Again, I tried to get the secret of the pink book out of him, but he refused to tell.  He made me another cup of tea and we talked, as we often do.  I pointed out to him that he seemed much more relaxed that he had when he first arrived in Kugane after his fight with Edmond. He seemed more at peace with himself, that whatever chains holding him down had broken and now he had a chance to soar -- but had no idea how to use his wings.

He told me that I’d helped him a great deal, that he’s actually excited when he wakes up in the morning. And in this excitement he gave me a linkpearl, so that we could talk even when we’re apart. It’s a silly, common thing that everyone uses, but it felt meaningful coming from him. Naturally, I had to tease him about it, though, saying that he just wanted to whisper sweet nothings into my ear whenever he wanted. 

He inferred then that Something Happened last night in my fevered delirium.  He refused to tell me though, saying that something so /intimate/ was meant to be kept a secret. It worried me.  Had I said or done something inappropriate?  I think I would know, physically, if I’d slept with him and I didn’t really feel that was the case. Idiot, of course he’d delight in worrying me like that.

Still, when I demurred that I didn’t do much of anything for him, he said that I was one of few people who took him seriously, outside of his brother.  I listen to him and he feels like he can talk to me about anything. That I could be trusted with his problems. It was heartwarming to be so trusted and I reassured him that I would always be there for him as long as he wanted.

It was then that his mood shifted somewhat and he told me that he was finally ready to go to Valentina’s graveside, to finally find the closure with her that his heart and his soul both needed. He asked me again if I would still go with him.  And my answer was of course, I’d promised him that I would. For the first time since I’d know him, I saw fear ripple through Edgard.  Fear, uncertainty, and a vulnerability that made my heart ache for him. 

I sat next to him, leaning into his side, just to give him a real, living presence to comfort him in such a troubled moment.  I reassured him that he wasn’t alone.  He would never be, so long as I drew breath.  When next he looked at me, his eyes captured and held me within their blue crystalline depths. It was in those depths that I could see … longing. Like a moth to a flame I was drawn to it, enchanted by it -- for a moment, I reached out to that flame…

Before I came to my godsdamned senses!  I made my excuses to leave, claiming I needed sleep in my own bed and I left the room. Ardi seemed bewildered and confused, it made my heart ache.  I couldn’t believe I’d gotten that close to going against my own expectations. I can’t.  I can’t do to him what Tristane did to me. I don’t want to hurt him. I was angry and disappointed in myself for not minding my /own/ boundaries. 

As I sat in my room, rebuking myself for my behavior.  I heard him talking to himself on the other side of the wall.  What I heard, what he said, made my heart hurt all the more. Part of me wanted to go to him, to reassure him, but I knew it was better for us both to remain silent. The Hunt must always be first in my heart.  Until it is done, I can’t… I won’t put anyone in the position to love me only for me to die.  I knew that pain once and I swore I would never inflict it on anyone else.

What do I do now?  How do I act?  I never meant for things to get this far. Somewhere, somehow… what wasn’t serious became serious.  If I deny his feelings like I did Lorrendor, will he do the same thing?  Turn into some emotionless marionette, just going through the song and dance of friendship?  I don’t know that I could take that.  Ardi is a source of joy to me and a good partner. I don’t… I don’t want to have to be without him.

Why does making the right choice have to be so goddamned hard?

[skvaderarts]

Chapter Eleven: Rumination

You can check out the Masterlist Here for more links to places to read!

Note: As per usual, I want to extend a warm thank you to Aureux, HunterJamie, BeansWithBones, RubixaSeraph, Random Reader Nothing Special, and He Who Wanters for their wonderful comments. I smiled like an idiot when I was reading your feedback. In fact, I wasn’t originally planning on writing out this part of the story, but I was so happy that I did. This intermission dinner chapter is for you guys! Enjoy it before things… change a bit. Thank you once again for your continued support. Means the world to me!

-~-

A bay window that spanned the entire outward-facing wall that overlooked the street below was all that separated the cozy dining room from the raging torrent of stormwater just outside the stone rowhouse. As the windows whipped and churned outside, the interior remained dry, even as the window rattled slightly in an earnest effort to not open in response to the prodding storm that it held at bay. The well-built structure served its purpose gallantly, those that dwelled within its walls not needing to worry if their home was going to come crashing down on top of them at any moment. And considering the fact that it was now time for dinner, that was a welcome relief.

In the center of the room sat an oblong table with seven chairs around it. Although generously sized, the eating space had originally been designed with six people in mind. This was clearly illustrated by the presence of the seventh chair at the table. Although it matched relatively well (I mean, what doesn’t match a white table?) The seat clearly originated from an alternate source; the custom stitched patchwork cushions in each seat being the only thing that tied everything together. And it was all very charming in a rather arts and crafts farmhouse sort of way.  

Various eating apparatuses were carefully positioned around the table, the placements having been set by the children while Kyrie was busy importing food front the kitchen into the eating space. As a result, several things on the table were crooked, but no one honestly minded. The little ones had tried their best, and that was all that really mattered at the end of the day.

While Kyle, Carlo, and Julio clambered into their seats, their adoptive mother opened the curtains to allow what meager light there was outside to shine into the room. While the space was not claustrophobic, at this given moment in time, it was a bit crowded. Four adults and three young children made for quite the dining experience, especially when everyone present was so vastly different than everyone else. Or, at least they were at first glance. It was true that their personalities were quite different, but they were all united by common goals and the care that they showed for one another. Even when that care was thrown for a loop as the children bickered with one another, causing a bit of a ruckus before Kyrie shushed them gently. They had a guest, after all. This was no time to be rowdy. 

“Now now,” She said with a happy but stern tone,” were at the table. No fighting.”

Just as Kyrie was in the process of setting down the ceramic bowls she had ladled hot soup into, Nero emerged from the living room with V in tow. A moment later, Nico joined them. She came down from the second floor of the house and slipped into the dining room, eager to experience whatever culinary delights Kyrie had prepared for them today. To say that she was a wonderful cook would be an understatement, and Nico was not a picky eater. She would eat just about anything that the brunette woman put in a plate in front of her, as long as she had cooked it.

Nico sat down between the two oldest boys, prepared to pester them senseless if the need should arise. V, almost predictably, sat nearest to the corner of the room, his back facing the doorway as if he were poised to take flight should the need arise. This entire situation was entirely foreign to him. In his entire life, he had never been invited to or subsequently experienced a family dinner. That was most certainly due to the fact that he hadn’t any family to speak of until now. In the blink of an eye, he had died, returned from the brink of damnation, and then awakened as if it were all an unpleasant dream, only to find out that he had quite the extended family. It was all a bit much to take in all at once, but he was trying. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, he longed for Griffon’s familiar -if not antagonizing-  voice within the confines of his mind. He had grown used to the wisecracking bird’s little jabs and jests, as they had always provided ample entertainment and distraction from the concept of actually having to socialize with those around him. As much as he wanted to get to know everyone, his social battery was rapidly depleting and he would be remiss to not acknowledge that being alone in his new room was a tempting venture.

In his current state, he felt very exposed and vulnerable, and that was not a sensation that he generally enjoyed. V couldn’t pinpoint what it was but, in a way, he felt like he was missing something. Yes, obviously he was missing much at the moment. Namely his loyal summons and their accompanying tattoos, but this was born of something more than that. When his mind wandered, his hands normally stopped that from occurring by turning his attention to something else entirely. But that something had been misplaced, and V was just now realizing what it was that was amiss. As he combed over the remnants of his still marginally fragmented memory, it occurred to him that he hadn’t the slightest idea where his beloved book had gone. Or his cane for the matter. While he didn’t require it to walk, it most certainly made him feel more secure in his person, as it reduced the risk of him falling flat on his face and breaking every bone in his body, or something else equally tragic and dramatic. And his book served a similar purpose, only for his mind instead of his body. He desperately craved a distraction despite not having a clear reason to need one.

As his subconscious drifted into idly thought, he was suddenly made aware of his surroundings again when a small hand tugged on him. He snapped out of his delirium only to find that Carlo had clambered into the seat beside him. While Nero, Nico, and Kyrie were engaged in some sort of conversation with one another about the dinner that he had yet to taste, the small child had seen fit to take his bowl of soup and relocate. No one seemed to notice except for V, as their current conversation proved a formidable distraction.

The young child smiled shyly at him before reaching for the nearest spoon with the intention of eating his soup. V felt a wave of silent panic hit him as the thought of the young child tipping the bowl by mistake and scalding himself crossed his mind. He was on the taller side for a child his age, but not quite at the height required to reach the table safely. V held his hands out and gently stopped the child, garnering a curious look from him as he scooped him up and sat him down next to the table. V then took the cushion out from underneath himself and sat it on top of the existing one in the child’s chair before ushering for him to climb back up. After noticing the child’s hesitation, it occurred to him that he might not be able to do so, so he lifted him up under the arms and plopped him back down into his again.

Carlo smiled and then turned back to his soup, ready and eager to finally eat his dinner. V internally sighed, unnaturally relieved that the sweet child before him hadn’t managed to harm himself. While the liquid wasn’t hot enough to do any notable harm to an adult, it was to a child his age, and he felt compelled to prevent that. V then turned his attention to his own bowl of soup and somewhat hesitantly ate a spoonful himself. Admittedly, he hadn’t been that hungry before now, which was uncommon for him. But now that he had tried it, he was beginning to warm up to the concept. There were descriptor words that he could use to describe how good this soup was, but he had made the decision a lifetime ago to only use those specific words under special circumstances. This wasn’t quite what he had in mind when he had set those restrictions. Regardless, this soup was delicious.

After eating several spoons of the soup, it occurred to V that he hadn’t thanked Kyrie for dinner. He glanced up from his bowl and was slightly startled when he noticed that Nico and Nero were both staring at him like he’d grown a second head while Kyrie giggled happily. V mentally kicked himself. Why was his spatial awareness and concentration so bad today? Sure, he had plenty of reasons to not be feeling quite himself, but this still. Concentrating wasn’t something he had ever had an issue with. This was... unsettling.

V stared back at them, his eyebrow raised. What had he done this time? See this, this was why V was bad at small talk. The eye contact made his skin crawl, even when it came from people he actually liked. He could physically feel himself recoil in discomfort the longer they looked at him like this. After a moment he glanced back down at the bowl and continued eating. “... This is delicious. Thank you.”

If it was possible for a smile to physically render a person blind, then Kyrie succeeded. V stared at her and in surprise as she smiled, practically radiating actual light from her happiness. “Oh, thank you! I’m glad you like it! I noticed the weather, so I thought this would be a perfect time to make soup. And then you Nero brought you home and you seemed sick, so my mind was made up!”

Nico smirked and folded her arms as she gestured towards him. “I didn’t think you even ate food, V! Wow, it’s weird seeing you do… normal stuff, ya know?”

Nero nodded in agreement. Obviously, V ate food. He was a living, breathing being. But there was just something so oddly unnatural about having him over to eat with them. V was too mysterious and subtle to bother with petty normal people things like eating over with family. Or so Nero had figured for some reason that he couldn’t pinpoint. He didn’t really know what to say about it. In a way, he had been so wrapped in mystery and suspicion when they had first met that nothing he did or didn’t do didn’t seem unnatural or suspicious, but now he knew him much better than he had before. And yet somehow this was still just so surreal to him.

V shrugged as he finished eating his food, unsure of what to really say to that. “I would imagine that’s because I’m not exactly normal.” 

That all too familiar smirk returned as he put down the empty bowl, not at all noticing that he was the first person to finish eating by a longshot. He hadn’t exactly eaten the food quickly so much as he had simply not stopped eating it for even a moment from the second he tasted it. Part of him wanted to ask for more of it, but he decided against it. He had felt quite queasy earlier that day. It was best not to push it for now. He would sleep on this and see how he felt tomorrow.

Nero shook his head before going back to his food. “You got that right, V.”

-~-

When Kyrie had asked Nico to throw the clothes in the laundry while she put the kids to be, she didn’t hesitate. It was a better idea than allowing her to try and get them to calm down and actually go to bed. A much better idea. The last time that she had tried to do that, they had been up until three in the morning, and she had fallen asleep only to wake up the next morning to a catastrophic mess in the kitchen. No one wanted that.

Nero had volunteered to do the dishes in an act that had led to no small amount of friendly teasing from Nico before they had all gone their separate ways. And in an act that actually took every adult at the table by surprise, V volunteered to help him. Kyrie had insisted that he didn’t need to help since he was a guest, but he had politely insisted, partially from an incessant need to feel less useless, and because he had literally nothing better to do. And that was how they had ended up alone in the kitchen.

As Nero finished washing one of the dishes, he passed it to V who then dried it and placed it effortlessly in the overhead cabinet. Nero shrugged as if to ask his brother a question, testing the limits of how far he could push V in regards to jokes. 

“So what the hell,” He said as he handed him another cup. He accepted it nonchalantly as he leaned against the counter,” Have you always been this freakishly tall?”

V scoffed at the comment, idly drying the plastic drinking cup,” Absolutely. Walking with a cane simply makes that less apparent.”

Nero nodded. That made sense. “Then… why didn’t you just get a longer cane?”

V seemed to consider the question for a moment. Or rather, he debated if he should go into that right now. “I… wasn’t afforded the opportunity to pick in the situation I was in. I needed to act fast, or I wouldn’t have lived long enough to think about it later.”

An eyebrow went up at the answer. What the hell was he going on about? Had he been under attack? Nero knew just by the way that he answered that question that he wasn’t going to elaborate any further, at least not right now. But he still couldn’t help but wonder what he was referring to. His life before they had met seemed to be just as chaotic as ever. Would he ever tell him about where he came from? One thing at a time.

He gestured towards Nero’s arm almost lazily.” So, how did your arm grow back?” There was genuine curiosity in his tone, masked under a thick layer of sarcasm. He asked the question so bluntly that it nearly gave Nero whiplash. He stopped washing the dishes for a moment and gave V a sideways look. He didn’t sound like he didn’t care so much as he sounded totally unimpressed, almost like he already had an idea what had happened. Nero briefly considered showing him his Devil Trigger instead of just telling him about it and then came to his senses. If he triggered in the kitchen, he'd probably break everything in here. That, and he’d probably give V a protracted stroke, and he already had enough problems right now.

“I got some new powers and they just kinda fixed it. It’s complicated. I don’t know how to make it make sense,” Nero shrugged, unsure of how to really explain what happened. He wasn’t honestly one hundred percent sure himself. Just grateful.” It works like a normal arm and everything, but Nico modified the Devilbreakers so I can still use them. It’s pretty sweet.”

V nodded to himself, taking in what Nero had just told him. “So it didn’t grow back so much as it replaced itself, then.”

Nero paused for a moment to hand him the last dish before nodding to himself. “Yea, basically,” Nero turned the tap off and wiped his hands on the dish towel,” Why, you planning to cut something off and taking notes? I don’t recommend it. It’s fucking painful.”

He dried the dish and placed it in the cabinet, pausing for a moment. V gave Nero a subtle yet sympathetic look, nodding slowly. “Yes… I imagine that it did,” he reached over his head and closed the cabinet door,” And no, I don’t plan on losing any parts of my body. Dying again isn’t on my agenda as of yet.”

Nero stared at him for a moment in disbelief at the deadpan way he had just said that before bursting out into genuine laughter. Seriously, what the absolute fuck was wrong with him. He leaned on the counter for support for a moment as he tried to stop laughing, slightly lightheaded. V let slip a brief snicker before going totally silent again, trying not to let Nero’s stupidity get to him. When Nero finally stopped laughing, he shook his head and just rolled his eyes. “

“You’re the darkest asshole I’ve ever met in my entire life, you know that right,” Nero folded his arms and shook his head, suppressing a final laugh,” I and saw you fucking laugh.”

V shook his head once, his serious facial expression remaining. “No, I didn’t. I don’t laugh.”

Nero rolled his eyes again. Uh-huh. I’m sure.”

V scoffed, smirking wickedly. “That wasn’t a laugh. You’d be able to tell the difference.”

Nero turned in the direction of the doorway, en route to the stairs. “Whatever, V. Just-” Nero stopped for a moment, something occurring to him for the first time since they’d first met,” Actually what the fuck is your name anyway?”

He folded his arm, blinking a few times quickly. The totally calm look that he had on his face never wavered. V figured he’d ask that at some point, but it still didn’t change his answer. At least for right now. “No. Go to bed.”

Nero just looked at him for a second before. He had never thought that V actually had a sense of humor until now. Well, at least more of one than Vergil had. That wasn’t a very high bar to meet. Nero practically shuttered at the thought of Vergil ever trying to tell a joke. No, Dante had inherited all the funny genes. He utterly refused to believe that Vergil could be funny. And he never wanted to hear him laugh. EVER. He had just developed a phobia he didn’t even know existed.

As Nero took a step towards the bottom stair, he glanced back at V. For a moment the gravity of everything that had happened in the last two days hit him all at once and he couldn’t help but feel slightly emotional. He liked V. He didn’t know if he would ever tell him that straight to his face, but he did. And he was glad that he was back. Maybe they could start over. After he’d lost Credo, he didn’t think he had it in him to be close to anyone like that again. Not with that kind of relationship. But he was a different person now, so he could only hope, even if hope was a dangerous and foolish thing.

“... I’ll see you in the morning, V.”

V smirked, quietly pleased with himself. He turned towards the guest room, glancing back at him as he headed down the hall. “Yes,” he stopped for a moment, turning back to face him,”... Goodnight, Nero.

-~-

Finally, some wholesome family time for V! It only took his entire life, but here we are! As always, thank you guys for reading! The next chapter will be out on Friday, June 5th between Noon and 6 pm, depending on what’s going on. And also, how do you feel about these slower chapters. Obviously, we’re working towards something with some ACTION, but I hope I’m not boring you with the pacing. Let me know! And thanks for the kudos, everyone! Yes, you too, anons! This is the most read fic I’ve ever written. Amazing. Just wow. I couldn’t be happier!

P.S.I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned this, but I made a website just for reading my fics. It’s free if you want to check it out. I hope you like it. I made sure everything was really easy to navigate. Here’s the link: https://skvaderarts.wixsite.com/skvaderarts

[ionchef]

King of Anything- An Escaflowne Fanfiction

King of Anything

Act 1, Chapter 3, Part 2

In which Millerna narrows her eyes and Yukari's shoulders slump.

Van and Millerna watched Hitomi stumble away and exchanged uneasy glances. "Something seems off," the princess commented, whereupon Van frowned. Hitomi didn't seem like the kind of girl who'd purposely get hammered.

Alas, it didn't take long for her to emerge back out of the nook where the doors to the restrooms were. Only, she looked ten times worse now. Millerna's eyes narrowed when she witnessed Hitomi try to place her drink on a ledge, then drop it in mid-air, likely due to skewed depth perception. Her periwinkle eyes then widened while she reached for Van's arm. "We need to check on her."

Nodding, Van was already off in Hitomi's direction, dodging imbibed guests in his way. Seeing her stand there staring at the mess on the ground, visibly confused and frozen, made his movements urgent. Though she'd been rather bold with him before and confident with Millerna later, she now looked very lost.

As Van placed his hand on her shoulder, he immediately noticed that her skin was cold through the thin material of her blouse. Despite the high collar, the thing was doing nothing to keep her warm even in the steamy environment of the Mystic Moon where people were grinding and twerking on the dancefloor not far away.

"Hitomi. Are you alright?" Van asked when she slowly turned and inclined her head to face him. Her eyes had trouble focusing, causing her to shake her head slowly in an attempt to get rid of whatever was clouding her mind.

"Mmmh. Fine." Was all she responded while placing one of her hands against the front of his suit jacket to steady herself.

Millerna wasn't far behind them. "Let's get her away from all the people."

Van nodded. "Right," but didn't take his eyes off Hitomi. Her mascara was smudged and had settled into the creases around her eyes, giving her a haunted look.

"Hitomi, be a dear and come with us," Millerna instructed politely.

"Ooookay," was all she replied while smiling dreamily.

Van sucked in a deep breath. She sounded weird. Too readily complying.

Hitomi didn't resist at all when he guided her to the area where the private tables and couches were, secluded by a row of tight, sparkly crystal bead curtains. His hand was on her lower back as he nudged her in that direction with Millerna right by their side, making sure nobody was watching too closely. Good thing most of the people here were drunk at this hour.

Having anyone witness that the king and the princess of Asturia were ducking into a private area with a strange woman would surely prompt some juicy rumors. The area where they had all started out the evening earlier was still deserted. Save for some empty bottles of Champaign and glasses- a few of which had been knocked over by the girls in their haste of getting to the dance floor- there wasn't much around.

A bit clumsily, Hitomi tripped over her own feet and nearly crashed into the glowing glass table but a strong arm around the waist steadied her before something could happen. "Sheesh," Van huffed when her arms still flailed, holding her carefully until she seemed steady enough again.

Millerna wasted no more time and stepped up to cup Hitomi's cheeks in her hands. "Look at me, Hitomi."

Hitomi complied obediently. Millerna observed her for a moment, then asked her to follow a finger as she moved it left and right in front of her face. Hitomi's reaction was way off.

"Just what I thought. She's not drunk."

"She isn't?" Van asked while unbuttoning his suit jacket and removing it to drape it around Hitomi's shoulders.

"Mmmh," Hitomi closed her eyes and smiled, snuggling into the garment. She pivoted to face Van, then proceeded to slip her arms around his waist, lean into him, and bury her face in his chest. "You smell good," she announced quietly but happily, then mumbled, "like pet...pet-richor and charred wood."

Van gulped when he felt her nose nuzzle his pectorals through the black dress shirt. "She-she isn't?" His hands were hovering in the air near her waist uncertainly.

Millerna studiously tapped her chin with one finger, the other hand braced on her hip. "She isn't," Millerna confirmed. "She's high on some drug, and…I mean I've only just met her today but judging by what little I know her, would say she didn't take anything on purpose."

That set a part of Van's brain on fire. "What?!"

"Somebody must have slipped her something," Millerna theorized.

His hands suddenly settled onto Hitomi's sides, almost protectively. He bunched the fabric of his jacket in tight fists there, instinctively pulling her closer. "What do we do?" Van asked while regarding the woman leaning against him so contently, his anger dominating any uneasiness. Safe. She was safe here with him.

"Well," Millerna continued but certainly didn't miss her friend's atypical behavior. "It will wear off but it's best if she is brought home so nothing happens to her."

"Right," Van readily agreed again. He was unbelievably thankful to have a friend like Millerna. Out of all the royal pains, she was by far his favorite and always able to keep a cool head in situations where he'd be out for blood by now. He could really use some of that talent.

"I'll go find Allen. Pretty sure her friends are still with him near the bar. Do not let her out of your sight for even a second. Who knows what kind of weirdo is out there, waiting for her to be alone again. Pliable as she is right now, you could probably make her do anything you want," Millerna advised before straightening her dress and leaving.

Pliable? Make her do? Van glanced back down to Hitomi who then lifted her head away from his chest and stared at him dopily, mouth slightly agape as if waiting for something. He hissed through his nose when he realized what Millerna had implied. Not on his watch!

Van carefully removed Hitomi's arms from around his waist and maneuvered her to the couch. When she plunked down, the velvet shorts she wore hiked up another good two inches and bared the whole length of her lithe legs. Van definitely was glad Millerna and him had found her before anybody else because, at that moment, he had a few pretty good ideas for what kind of X-rated things someone might want to make her do.

He felt extremely bad for even thinking about it while she was in such a delirium. What if they hadn't been there? Hitomi's upper body swayed as she sat, completely zoned out. A few moments later she almost fell off the couch too, slowly beginning to fold forward at the waist.

Van hadn't taken his eyes off her, so he quickly dropped to one knee and grabbed both her shoulders, steadying her. Hitomi giggled. He didn't feel like giggling at all. Even though Millerna said the drug would likely just wear off, he was wholly uncomfortable with her having to go through this.

Concern etched onto his face, Van looked her over again. Some part of him wanted Hitomi locked in a room. Now. Until she was stone cold sober and very much in control of her wits again. So sober she'd be able to slap him or anybody else hard for attempting to do anything at all she didn't approve of. It made him feel doubly bad again for the stolen kiss. Although, at least for that she'd had her retribution.

A small crease appeared between Hitomi's brows and one of her hands slowly crossed the space between them. Van was too dumbfounded and intrigued to stop her when she wove her fingers into his hair and combed it forward so that it fell in a messy angle across his forehead. "Better," she announced with a weak smile. "I like this better."

So some part of her did know who he was. Maybe that also meant she was aware that she was safe. Or maybe not, because…well…

"Yeah,…" Van sighed quietly. "Me too." He wanted to entertain the illusion that he could have a normal conversation with her right now. About his hair. Because at least it meant she was somewhat okay and in control of herself, but…

"Why are your eyes red?"

…that question, out of nowhere, surprised him. She'd spoken quietly and was still playing with a few wisps of his hair.

The color of his eyes was a bit of a sore spot for two reasons so he never talked about it. Flaming red irises was the prominent feature both his mother and brother had shared as well and thinking of his family was never not going to be painful. It wasn't difficult to explain either but nothing exciting at all, so none of the tabloids ever wrote about it.

She likely wouldn't even remember if he told her now. "Lack of pigment in my eyes passed down by my mother. She and my brother had it too. I'm really just a freak," he stated, then shrugged lightly.

At the word 'freak' Hitomi frowned again but quickly recovered, even smiling a bit after. Her fingers traveled down the side of his head where they threaded themselves into his hair again, disheveling it some more while he could only stare back.

Despite the smudged makeup, she still looked lovely. The dreamy expression on her face, although drug-induced showed him her gentle side again. He'd seen it before during their other encounters, along with the strong-willed side that wouldn't tolerate any nonsense- not even from a king.

He wasn't doing anything to her though, was he? He wasn't making her do this, or…? It was difficult to focus with her so close. Her cheeks were tinted a bit red by now, this hopefully because she was finally warming up under his jacket.

After drawing a shaky breath, Van swallowed heavily while tightening his hold on her shoulders, subconsciously hoping that it would make her aware of what she was doing. He really, really should stop her from touching him but the way her fingers caressed the side of his head and nape was distractingly lovely. Even more so when her second hand moved to his neck, dipping a bit into the space where the shirt's collar gaped open. It made a shiver trail down his spine.

Hitomi's face drew nearer even and Van backed away a bit in an attempt to keep them out of trouble. She was still close enough for him to feel her breath fanning across his face when she whispered, inching closer with every word, "they are so...so...so beautiful." Van's heart skipped a few beats when he saw her eyes falling shut as she drifted further toward him yet, her mouth brushing his, soft as a feather.

His own eyes crossed in shock despite the ample warning signs. He really should have seen it coming but had been too mesmerized to comprehend what she was up to. Or maybe he was full of shit and had been secretly hoping for it. Either way, he'd not fully realized just how much he was craving the feel of it.

Who could even blame him? Behind the title and responsibilities, he was still a guy with wants and needs. No matter how aloof he appeared on the outside in the role of the monarch- protector of his realm- he couldn't just shut off the craving. The craving felt by a very simple fraction of his brain. The one that wanted to immediately reciprocate what she was offering, hollering at him to pull her close, savor the moment, and see how far they could go.

Only, responsibilities would always take precedence over such a longing now that he was king, especially in a situation like this. Hitomi's warm, soft lips slowly moved against his, tasting of bitter gin, tonic, and lime. She was searching, desperate for something he realized he couldn't- no- shouldn't give her.

Van groaned when Hitomi's grip on him tightened fractionally. Under different circumstances, having her grab him like this, demanding him to respond to her kiss while pressing her slightly moist lips against his would certainly have been more persuasive. After all, she was really pretty and intriguing in several ways. However, knowing that she was doing all this under the influence of some drug made it feel all kinds of wrong.

Hating himself for having let it even come this far, the king tapped into hidden reservoirs of sheer will and pried her hands off his head. His gut twisted sickly when a small noise of surprise and protest escaped Hitomi's mouth after they parted. Carefully but deliberately, he pushed her back into the cushions and drew in a deep breath of sobering air but that hitched in his throat halfway when he heard all his names.

"Van Slanzar de Fanel, what on Gaea do you think you're doing?" Millerna hissed behind him while roughly pulling him to his feet and, for a lack of a more acceptable retribution, pinched his upper arm where she knew the large welt of a scar was.

"Ow! What the..! Millerna, I didn't do anything!" Van exclaimed in exasperation while running both hands through his disheveled hair, combing it back again.

"Yea, exactly!" Millerna poked his chest with an accusing finger while, with her free hand, gesticulated towards Hitomi. The woman in question was resting against the back of the couch, looking like she was going to fall asleep any moment. She didn't need to say anything else. Van's eyes darted back over to Hitomi, staring at her ruefully.

"I…," Van began to speak but a frustrated growl escaped his throat instead. His hands balled themselves into fists at his sides and pure anger washed over him. Anger for his own stupidity and for whoever was responsible for this mess in the first place. If he got his hands on whoever slipped her the drug, they'd pay.

"Hitomi!" A frantic voice heralded the approach of her redheaded friend. Van was glad to see her rush to Hitomi's side with only a quick side glance at him and Millerna in passing. It was good to know she had a friend nearby now. Two actually, when Allen's brother rounded the curtain with a few swift strides, followed by Allen, who kept a respectful distance but looked thoroughly concerned nonetheless. More concerned than he ought to have been.

"Hitomi, what happened to you?!" Yukari and Amano fretted while inspecting their friend only to find that she was physically unharmed. Yukari's shoulders slumped in relief when she realized that her friend was alright.

Meanwhile, Millerna and Van were arguing quietly for a minute before he stormed off, his face a mask of fury.

"Don't do anything rash, Van! You don't even know who did it!" Millerna tried to calm him down, the words barely audible over the music.

Yea she was right, but he was downright pissed when he stomped out from behind the secluded seating area, fuming and wishing he had his sword on him. He stomped aimlessly into the crowd, scanning it for anybody who looked even remotely guilty.

He was just about to explode when a small voice piped up beside him. "Excuse me, your highness," Celena's melodic but confident voice reached him through the boom of the bass.

"Van," Merle joined them. They seemed to have been dancing up until now, as far as Van could tell by his sister's labored breaths and loosened buns with strands of pink hair framing her face.

"Van," Merle repeated his name firmly to make sure he was listening. "Celena thinks she saw something. We just only heard from Allen what happened in passing."

That, of course, got his attention. "Tell me!" Van demanded.

"Well. There was this guy," Celena began. "He was sitting at the bar the whole time but now he's gone. He dropped some pill into a drink and then a waitress came and took it. I don't know where she went with it, though. Could be that she gave it to that lady."

"What did he look like?" Van asked, already mentally skinning a faceless guy alive with the razor-sharp, royal sword.

"Silver or white hair. Similar length as mine. Very pale and sort of rude," Celena described him and Van didn't need to hear anything else.

"Dilandau," Merle blurted out his thoughts, confirming it. "His looks are uncanny. Van," she immediately grabbed him by the sleeve of his shirt, knowing him too well. "Don't do anything dumb."

Both Millerna and Merle were very aware that an enraged Van was nothing to be underestimated. As much as his sense of honor was his strongest virtue, it also became his biggest weakness when stretched too far, turning into stubbornness which translated to rash and thoughtless actions.

It was too late anyway. Dilandau was gone. His white hair would have been easily visible in the glow of the black light, even in a big crowd. Luckily, that wasn't a problem at all, Van thought. The dishonorable bastard would pay and he had a good idea about how already.

"Don't worry. I won't," Van promised. At least not tonight but nobody needed to know that.

The three then returned to the back area where everybody was still gathered around Hitomi. To Van's discontent, Allen was now hoisting a dead-to-the-world Hitomi into his arms. The king was a bit confused about the severity of his displeasure when seeing this. He stayed at the back of the group, jaw locked and arms crossed.

Millerna announced that Allen was instructed to make sure the three friends got home safely. "Allen, don't let go of her until you're inside their apartment. That's a firm order."

"Not to worry," Allen assured nobody in particular, donning an expression of chivalry. "My arms have and always will be the safest place on Gaea for any fair lady."

"Odd flex, but okay," Merle stated a bit dryly.

Allen, with Hitomi in his arms and flanked by Yukari and Amano made his way out of the club. As directed by Merle, they used the back door which the royal entourage had entered through earlier, so as not to draw attention.

After they were gone, Van snatched up his crumpled suit jacket from where it had been left on the couch. The garment created a puff of air when he roughly straightened it around his shoulders. For a brief moment, it smelled sweet. Sweet like her, which calmed him by a small measure before his blood began to boil anew.

Yeah. Dilandau, the cretin, was going to wish he never set foot into the Mystic Moon tonight. He'd regret it by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.

When Van was finished with the last button on his jacket, he was back in charge of his temper again, the façade of a pure in-control king. "Celena, would you and the rest of security please make sure the princesses get back to the palace? I need some time alone. Escaflowne is outside. He will escort me back."

Celena nodded confidently. "No problem."

Millerna shook her head slowly.

"I'm coming with you," the princess answered while indicating that she was ready to go and would accept no debate about the matter. It seemed like the incident had sobered everybody up quite firmly.

Van looked at her with a neutral expression and said, "fine." He knew that arguing with her was pointless.

Dilandau smirked mischievously while ambling through the narrow alleys of old town. One hand was tucked into a pocket while the other held his cellular phone. The screen glowed brightly as a video clip played. Although a bit blurry and filmed from a weird angle near the bathroom hallway, one could make out the king and a woman in an intimate encounter.

Sylphy had really hit the jackpot with her choice. Never in his wildest dreams had Dilandau thought he'd still be able to enjoy entertainment of this caliber tonight. As far as he was concerned, nobody was safe from this kind of fate, not even the king. Spreading chaos and disorder was were where Dilandau felt most at home- it was his own, personal mission and he didn't much care who was affected by it.

He was glad to have slipped out at the right moment. Although he wasn't afraid of the king, he wasn't up for dealing with the shit this all could stir up in diplomatic terms. Relations between Zaibach and Fanelia had never been great, even though they were connected by some of the longest-standing trade agreements in history. Despite decades of peace, everything between them was frosty, to say the least.

Escaflowne marched along behind Van and Millerna, down the cobblestoned pedestrian area of old town. He'd wisely remained fairly quiet as various groups had exited the club with his master and the Asturian princess returning last. Although usually never shy, the machine knew when a situation was too serious for his witty remarks.

Van's hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his suit jacket while frowning at the ground. Millerna floated next to him, refusing to be affected by the foul mood he was emanating. Neither of them had spoken a word since they left the club. Van was obviously deep in thought even though he had put up a good show of being unmoved towards the end.

Escaflowne continued to keep his distance, scanning the area for danger as they went. It was a quiet night otherwise and Millerna let her childhood friend fume in silence some more until they reached the elevators. The guards positioned there snapped to attention when the king neared and one of them pushed a finger to his earbud while speaking into the small mic by his uniform collar, giving his colleagues upstairs a heads up that the royals were approaching.

Escaflowne's frame was too large to fit inside the brightly-lit box so he had to climb the steps. Nothing new. Van leaned against the brushed metal walls on the inside while the doors slid shut, arms crossed and eyes closed.

"You like her don't you?" Millerna finally interrupted the companionable silence since they were finally alone.

Van opened his eyes but didn't respond, only frowning back at her.

Meanwhile, the elevator was ascending swiftly.

Ornery mule of a man.

Millerna jabbed the emergency stop and Van's eyes sprang open when the elevator came to a sudden halt.

"What the…," he unwound his arms and braced them on the railing on either side of him. Now it was Millerna's turn to cross her arms and regard him inquisitively. She couldn't help but permit one corner of her mouth to rise. Looks like that accusation finally got under the reserved king's skin. His unguarded, startled expression was all the confirmation she needed.

"She's smart and pretty," Millerna assessed while Van stood unmoving, eyes trained at the floor.

"What are you talking about?" Van responded in irritation.

Millerna rolled her eyes dramatically. "Van, you're usually stubborn about the right things but this isn't one of them."

"Your point being?"

"That you don't have to pretend like you're made out of stone all the time!" Millerna clapped her hands in front of his face to emphasize her point.

Oh if only she knew. If only she knew that he'd given up on that twice before already when making his excursions incognito. A third time really, tonight, when he'd been stupid enough to let a woman under the influence of a drug kiss him. He shouldn't be making mistakes like that.

Then, a voice came through the intercom by the control panel. "Majesties, is everything alright? The elevator seems to have come to a stop. This must have been a malfunction. We will have it going again in a minute."

Millerna pushed the button near the microphone to answer back, "yes, thank you. Everything is just fine."

Then she turned her attention back to Van. "I'm only dropping that issue for now because I want to give you this without anyone seeing it," she said while digging around her small purse. She produced a small thumb drive and Van accepted it with a curious look on his face.

"It's from a friend. He thinks it could help you access those recordings in Escaflowne's storage you've had issues with."

Van's eyebrows rose when he remembered. He'd been meddling with it for a bit since Escaflowne's activation but not being an expert with machines, he had limited options. Just to be on the safe side, this would remain his own little project for now. Who knew what he'd end up finding.

When Hitomi came to, she felt positively nauseous. Either she was on a ship or had traveled back in time to when she was a baby because whatever she was in, rocked her like a boat or a cradle. Everything inside her stomach curdled like sour milk and burned in her throat, trying to claw its way back up before something tickled her cheek and distracted her enough to swallow the lump. When she reached for her face, her hand came away with a bunch of soft, blonde hair- definitely not her own.

"Hitomi," Allen's smooth voice was very close and it took her a moment to gather why. It's because she was being carried by him. Even though she seemed to be sort of awake, now cracking her eyes open a bit, it was difficult to move. Even her hand felt funny as she let go of the man's hair and flexed her fingers. Whatever liquor she'd had at the end had hit her like a sledgehammer and for a while, she'd been so impaired she forgot how she even ended up in his arms.

She remembered dancing with Allen for a good while before they'd entered the VIP area. Then talking to Millerna with Van- oh gods- standing next to them. She remembered drinking something and the alcohol in it being stronger than anticipated. Starting then, everything became very misty. A bit of panic but mostly confusion was what she remembered. After being lost for a while, she'd been enveloped by something warm and it'd finally allowed her to relax and feel safe.

That's when all the worry went away and was replaced with something new, exciting. Her heart hammered against her ribcage when she tried to remember but the visuals in her memory were oh so blurry- her impaired mind not able to fathom the sensory overload then. That's when everything must have become too much and made her sink like a piece of lead into deep, dark waters. Had Allen found her and saved her from getting into trouble? It sure looked like it.

"Wha…t-hap…," she tried to ask but Allen silenced her with a tender glance.

"Shh, it's okay," he soothed her. "Somebody spiked your drink with a party drug but nothing happened to you. I'm making sure nothing happens to you," he explained. "There's nothing for you to worry about. You're safe with me and we're almost there."

He was right. Safe. She couldn't imagine anything bad happening to her when Allen was near. He was princess Millerna's personal bodyguard after all. Hitomi then recognized the awning of the small corner store as they passed by it and Yukari had already run ahead on the walkway to unlock the tall front door of the old building they lived in. She could hear it creak as it swung open while Allen strode down the short gravel path through the small garden in the front.

Feeling safe enough again, Hitomi gave up and let the exhaustion win over once more. She nestled her head against the side of his chest, inhaling his scent. He smelled like cologne, a bit of his own musk, and shampoo. Not entirely unpleasant but distinctly different from what would have made the foggy images in her mind clear up.

Tbc…

Or find more on FFN.

[gatesofember]

The Privilla: Chapter 3

PJO Arranged Marriage/Royalty AU Part 2

Rating: G | Pairing: Solangelo

Prev | Next | AU directory | Read it on AO3 (Recommended) | Arranged Marriage AU Masterpage

Summary: Almost ten years after their first introduction, Will and Prince Nico meet again. But this time, they are no longer children. Will, the illegitimate third son of Duke Apollo, has had a few prospective suitors, but none of the offers have been as lucrative as his family has hoped. Prince Nico has had his fair share of suitors, as well; with the pressure of being heir to the throne of a kingdom in economic turmoil, Nico is expected to marry for profit and security. However, his icy personality has driven many impatient suitors away. The two young men may prove to be exactly what the other needs.

“I do not believe this one will be as terrible as you fear,” Reyna said from the other side of the privacy screen.  “Her Divinity arranged it.  She would not send you an unlikable suitor.”

That is because I am the unlikable one, Nico thought as he raised his chin so that his manservant, Jules-Albert, could tie his jabot.

Nico had agreed to this meeting despite his reluctance mostly because it was Artemis who had asked.  They’d had their disagreements in the past, but Nico trusted her and had no desire to disappoint her.

“My father has spoken to me of the meeting with your nephew,” Nico recalled saying over a game of Acies before Artemis left Divitia.  “I must ask if you are aware of my current record as a suitor, Your Divinity.  Previous meetings have not gone well and should this meeting go awry....”

Artemis had smiled encouragingly.  “Worry not, Your Highness.  It will not affect our relationship.”

“But you are willing to offer your nephew as a suitor despite my...my....”

“Your Highness, I have known you since you wore children’s gowns.  You and my nephew are both fine young men.  If the meeting does not go as hoped, you will part amicably.  I have faith in you, Your Highness.”

Nico had not felt reassured.  “I do not want you to hope too much, Your Divinity.  I would hate to disappoint you.  If your nephew were to be unhappy with me–”

“Nico,” Artemis had said plainly, disposing of the pleasantries.  Nico was alarmed by the sudden change in address, but he did not take offense.  “You will not disappoint me.  You are as dear to me as kin.  My nephew is a patient, kind-hearted man and I believe you will enjoy his friendship, but if I am wrong, then I will leave it be.  In any case, you have already met him.”

“Have I?” Nico had asked with a frown, trying to remember.  “I do not recall.”

“You were but six years of age,” Artemis had answered.  “It was the evening of my inauguration.  I made the introductions and you became friends in an instant.”

Nico had stared at the figurines on the board in thought, but he had been unable to recall.  “I apologize.  I do not remember.”

“That does not matter,” Artemis had said.  “You were friends then and I believe you can be now.”

Nico had avoided Artemis’ eyes.  If he’d met her nephew at the Sororal Inauguration, Bianca would have still been alive.  It had been before he lost her, before those lonely, nightmarish years on the countryside....

“There have been many changes since then,” he’d replied.

“Yes,” Artemis had agreed.  “But, perhaps, not too many.”

Nico shook away his thoughts as Jules-Albert brushed off his coat and breeches.  “He is expected to arrive late this morning, correct?” he asked.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Reyna answered.  “He will be here in time for the mid-day meal.”

“And my father and I will entertain Her Divinity and Lord William outside in the cypress grove?”

“That is correct.  The Queen and the Princess will take their meal in the Queen’s antechamber today to leave the four of you to your discussions.  Following that, you will invite Lord William for a walk in the Queen’s garden.”

Nico sighed and nodded as he stepped out from behind the partition and went to sit on the lounge chair at the foot of his bed.  Jules-Albert offered Nico a pair of shoes, and when Nico nodded his assent, he knelt to put them on Nico’s feet.

“And you will offer him your arm,” Reyna said.  “You will smile at him.  You will be polite.”

Nico squashed his desire to retort and merely nodded.  This time, he would play the role of a good suitor – at least for the Matestra.  Besides, he needed to find a husband, and he hoped that this attempt wouldn’t be as disastrous as the others.  “And then my father and I will remain with them in the Privilla for the three days of their stay?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Reyna confirmed.

Nico was glad.  The grounds of the royal palace contained many estates like the Privilla built by generations of Pluton sovereign.  Although Nico had stayed in many of them in his childhood, the royal family had mostly remained within the main residence, the Palatium de Divitae, since the Scarlet Delirium and the downfall of Pluto’s once-wealthy economy.  While the Palatium de Divitae and its surrounding estates had once housed many nobles, the fashionable days of the Pluton court had passed and the palace now was home to only the royal family and a select group of courtiers.  Nico barely remembered his once-opulent lifestyle; he had been so young when he’d been sent to live on the countryside during the worst parts of the contagion’s rampage.  Still, he enjoyed the occasional excuses the royal family found to indulge in the lavish pleasantries that used to define the court.

When Jules-Albert finished polishing Nico’s shoes, Nico rose to his feet and nodded to Reyna.  “I assume the estate has been prepared?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“And the necessary items from my wardrobe?”

“Taken care of, Your Highness.”

“And Asterion?”

“He will be at the Privilla, Your Highness.”

“Good.”  Nico left the bedroom for the drawing room next door.  Hazel’s room also connected to the drawing room, and they had a series of studies that they used for various purposes, like Hazel’s artwork or Nico’s Acies board.  Hazel, upon Nico’s inspection of the chambers, appeared to be in her painting room.  Although they hadn’t always gotten along, Nico was fond of his little sister.  She turned and called out a good morning to him when she heard him leave his bedroom, and Nico greeted her in return.  At only eight years of age, she was already a fine painter.  She had gifted several of her works to Nico and he had them hung in his bedroom or studies.

“Tell me about the Matestra’s nephew again, Lady Reyna,” Nico said as he sat down in the drawing room.

“He is a consor,” Reyna began, taking a seat when Nico gestured for her to do so.  “He has been studying in Venadica since he was Hazel’s age, perhaps younger.  He is your age now, and is the third child of Duke Apollo of Diana – illegitimate.  His mother was a singer and Apollo’s mistress for a time.”

Nico chose not to dwell on the topic of Will’s illegitimacy.  It was not uncommon for nobles in Jupiter or Neptune to have lovers aside from their spouses, but such things were considered unacceptable in Pluto.  The thought made Nico feel uncomfortable, even though Nico was illegitimate himself.  The nature of his birth was very secret; not even Hazel knew, nor had Bianca.  Nico shouldn’t have known.

“Have you met him?” Nico asked.  As a soror, Reyna had been trained in Venadica, as well.

“I have,” Reyna replied.  “Only once or twice and it has been a very long time, but I do recall that he was pleasant company.  In any case, he has studied medicine under Asclepius himself and he practices when he returns to Diana in the winter.  He has had no serious suitors as of yet, but his family has been searching.  And he is extremely wealthy.”

Nico nodded.  A wealthy husband was, in all honesty, exactly what he needed.  He’d even tried courting the son of a wealthy merchant, despite his lack of a title – of course, that arrangement had fallen through quickly.  The boy had been completely unrefined, so Nico sent him on his way.  Nico probably could have done so more politely, but what was done was done.

“What topics of conversation do you recommend?” Nico asked, for conversation was not something he had any remarkable skill in.  He was receiving oratory lessons from Reyna, so he wasn’t as miserable as he once had been, but he still lacked some basic understanding of one-on-one communication.

“You might ask about his family or his studies.  It is most important, Your Highness, that you are responsive when he speaks to you.  You have an unfortunate habit of acting uninterested and indifferent around potential suitors, but in this case, you must remember to be more companionable.”

Nico heard Hazel giggle in her painting room, and, although he was irritated, he ignored her.  “I will behave cordially,” he muttered.  Reyna was not uncomfortable scolding Nico; she could be quite harsh with him.  Still, he considered Reyna trustworthy, and perhaps even a good friend.

Nico spent most of the morning pacing while Hazel painted in her studio and Reyna read in the drawing room.  He picked at the cold cuts Jules-Albert brought for their meal and drank a few sips of tea, but his unease persisted.  He hated being introduced to suitors, mainly because he knew he’d fail before they even arrived.  Nico wasn’t easy to like.  He wasn’t even tolerable enough to be someone’s husband.

“Your Highness,” Reyna said, causing Nico to jolt in surprise.  “Pacing will accomplish little more than wear in the flooring.”

“Then what do you suggest I do with my restlessness, Lady Reyna?” Nico snapped.  Reyna raised an eyebrow at his tone, which only served to irritate Nico further.  He huffed and stormed over to sit across from his adviser.  “How much longer do I have to wait?”

“Not long,” Reyna replied, setting her book aside to give Nico her attention.  “I suspect we will be called to greet them soon.”

Nico rubbed his palms on his breeches and asked, “Do you think this coat will do?”

“It is a very fine coat, Your Highness.”

“Good,” Nico mumbled.  “It’s not too plain?”

Reyna sighed.  “Your Highness, the trim is silver with sapphires.  I do not think it is plain.”

“I don’t want him to know exactly how desperate my family is for his dowry,” Nico said defensively.  “You will stay with me, correct?”

“I will be present, should you need me.”

“And you won’t leave me alone with him?”

Reyna looked at Nico disapprovingly.  “I will remain an appropriate distance away from you and Lord William.”

“But what if I–”

“If you are to marry him, you must be able to hold a conversation with him in private.”

Nico let out a breath of disappointment.  “This will go horribly,” he muttered.

“Your Highness, all you are required to do is be polite.  Smile at him, nod, and answer his questions.  And I beg you, do not tell him that he has the face of a toad.”

“I only did that once, and he highly exaggerated my phrasing,” Nico scowled.  “Besides, he did look like a toad.”

Reyna gave him a stern look.  “And if Lord William looks like a toad, what will you do?”

“I will not call him a toad,” Nico answered begrudgingly.  “Unless, of course, the similarities are remarkable, then I do not think it would be out of place to–”

“Your Highness,” Reyna cut in sharply.  “Sometimes, I almost believe that you purposely sabotage your meetings with potential suitors.  You will not make fun of Lord William’s face, or his voice, or his laugh, or his personality, or his intelligence, or any peculiar gestures that he might have the habit of making.”

Nico crossed his arms irritably.  “Very well, then; I simply won’t speak at all.”

“If that is what you must do, then so be it,” Reyna snapped back.  That said, she picked back up her book and started to read again, making it clear that she no longer had any interest in speaking to Nico.  Nico knew he ought to reprimand her for using such a tone, but he didn’t feel up to it.  Reyna was right, as usual.

It wasn’t long after that they were summoned to the Hall of Gold to greet their visitors.  The hall was a large, open area at the front of the palace that opened to the city outside.  Nico recalled balls being held there when he was younger and the court was wealthy and fashionable.  Although the room was still magnificent, it had fallen into disuse over the years.

Nico’s parents, King Hades and his Queen Consort, Persephone, along with his younger sister were present as the Matestra’s carriage arrived outside the palace.  The doors to the Hall of Gold were held open and the royal family stood at the entrance, watching as the guests exited the carriage.  

The Matestra came first.  Artemis was followed by the captain of her guard, Lady Thalia, and her aide, Lady Hestia.  Nico had seen Lady Thalia during the Matestra’s last visit, but he had not spoken to her.  He tried to avoid conversation with Thalia whenever possible; she made him think of Bianca too much.  Lady Hestia, however, Nico was fond of.  They had known each other a long time, even before she was hired as Artemis’ aide.  Hestia was always calm and polite, and something about her always made Nico feel soothed.  He hoped he would get the chance to talk to her while she was there; she had not been with the Matestra on her previous visit.

And then Lord William exited the carriage.

Nico did not remember the first time he had met Lord William, so he only was able to predict his appearance based on what he had been told by Reyna and Artemis.  He had known that his suitor would be blond and tan-skinned with blue eyes and have an average height and build.  As William approached with his aunt, Nico was glad to see that he did not look like a toad, but beyond that, Nico saw nothing noteworthy about him.  He had nice features without being irresistibly handsome, which Nico supposed was a good thing; if William had been too handsome, Nico was not sure that he would ever be able to look his suitor in the face without making a fool of himself.  William was not unpleasant to look at, however, and Nico found himself pleased with his appearance.

Pleasantries were exchanged when Artemis and William reached them, but Nico paid them little heed, instead examining William with interest, as though he might be able to discern more from his character by the intensity of his gaze.  Will looked back at him and smiled, which Nico supposed was nice, before lowering his eyes meekly.

Nico was snapped into paying attention when Will bowed to him and said, “It is an honor to meet you, Your Highness,” having apparently been introduced.

“You as well,” Nico said, and even though he tried to put an air of friendliness into his voice, his tone remained flat.

When Hades led the guests into the Hall of Gold, Nico fell in step beside William and examined him from the corner of his eye.  He had a good, strong posture, which Nico supposed he approved of, and his gait was acceptable.  His coat was nice, too; pale blue with gold embroidery and very fine buttons.  It was obviously well-made and expensive – a testament to his family’s wealth.  William’s hair was tied back, but rather untamed, which Nico supposed was excusable.

After directing Artemis’ servants to the Privilla, Hades, Artemis, Nico, and Will took their lunch outside in the cypress grove – a meal of venison and fruit from Persephone’s orchards.  Nico allowed Artemis and his father to control the conversation, instead busying himself with scrutinizing Will’s dining etiquette.  It was passable; he was obviously well-educated on the matter.  When Artemis asked him a question, Nico realized that he had been paying his suitor far too much attention and turned to focus on the conversation and the meal.

Nico felt something stroke up his ankle and he almost jolted in surprise.  He managed to keep his composure and fought the urge to peer under the table.  When it happened again, though, he looked up at Will, who was sitting across from him, and realized that the thing hitting his ankle was most definitely the toe of a shoe.  Will, however, made no movement to suggest he’d done it on purpose, so Nico let it slide.  Surely it had only been a mistake.  Will wasn’t trying to....

But Nico felt the shoe on his ankle again.  That time, when he looked up, Will offered a shy, guilty smile.  Nico didn’t smile back, so Will looked away again, his expression crestfallen.

Had he given Will the impression that he disliked it?  Nico always had trouble with suitors, in part because he was never able to seem friendly.  But this particular meeting was important; Artemis herself had arranged it and Will’s family’s wealth could prove invaluable to Nico.  Had he scared Will off?  Nico had only been surprised.  Will seemed like a pleasant young man.  Nico didn’t want to ruin their first meeting by being unfriendly as he had with so many of his previous suitors.  He hoped Will would look back so that he could try to smile for him.

When Will didn’t, Nico impulsively stuck out his foot and ran his toe over Will’s ankle just as Will had done to him.  Will looked at him, surprise written plainly across his face, and Nico smiled nervously.  Will smiled back.

When the meal was over, Nico had forgotten about his directions to invite Will for a walk until he heard Reyna, who was standing to the side of the grove with the servants, clear her throat loudly.  Nico reluctantly rose to his feet and looked at William, and although he tried to appear friendly, he was sure his face was as cold as usual.  “Lord William,” he said, keeping his nervousness carefully hidden.  “I wonder if you would join me for a walk in the gardens.”

“I would be honored, Your Highness,” William said, standing up from his chair.

Nico started to lead him towards the gardens when Reyna cleared her throat again and Nico turned his head to look at her.  She discreetly patted her elbow as a reminder for Nico to offer Will his arm.  Nico gave her a petulant look, having hoped that she’d forgotten about that bit, but Reyna merely patted her elbow with more force and frowned at him sternly.  Nico nodded sulkily, having absolutely no desire to engage in any kind of physical contact.  Nico did not like to touch and he did not like to be touched.  It was, he supposed, one of the many things that made him such an undesirable suitor.

Nico swallowed his discomfort and was about to hold out his arm, but when he turned to William, he found that William had already offered his.  He hesitated in surprise for a moment before taking it, but stayed a respectable distance away as he walked William towards the gardens.

William cleared his throat, which irritated Nico, who had heard enough cleared throats for one day.  “These gardens, as I understand, are designed by Her Majesty?” he asked.

“Oh...uh...yes,” Nico stumbled, unprepared to speak just yet.  “My mother takes pride in the grounds of the palace.  She made it her project when she married my father.”  Nico internally applauded himself for his quick answer, but soon after, it became silent between them again.  He led Will through the flowers in silence, his eyes darting around in the hopes that something might jump out and distract William from Nico’s awkwardness and discomfort.  His hand felt sweaty on Will’s elbow and Nico wanted to take it back, but he resisted.  

“The grounds are quite beautiful,” William said suddenly.  “My compliments to Her Majesty.”

“Thank you,” Nico answered.  “She loves to hear that her gardens are enjoyed.”  After a moment’s hesitation, he added, “You will see the gardens around the Privilla tomorrow.  They are quite beautiful there, as well.  Do you like gardens?”

“I do, Your Highness,” Will answered.  “The grounds at my father’s estate are lovely.  I enjoy reading there when the weather is nice.”

“Then you like to read?”

“Oh, yes.  Mostly I read for my studies, but I read for amusement, as well.”

“Tell me about your studies,” Nico said, recalling that Will was a consor studying medicine.  He could likely talk about his schooling for hours, and then Nico would not have to speak for quite a while.

“I am currently doing research on plant cells for the purpose of utilizing their medical properties,” Will said.  “I find it quite interesting, but my brothers and sister tell me that it is boring.  When I first started, I considered becoming a tutor and my studies were in a more general field, and then I decided that I would rather heal.  I have been a consor since I was seven; not long after I first met you, Your Highness.”  William suddenly faltered.  “I...I mean, since my aunt’s inauguration.  We were introduced.”

“I have been told,” Nico said.  “You must forgive me; I have no memory of the meeting, but I have heard about it.”

William looked disappointed for a moment, but then he smiled.  “It was long ago, Your Highness.  Although it is a happy memory for me.”

Nico opened his mouth to speak, then promptly shut it and turned his head to face forward, focusing on the stone path and white flowers in front of them rather than on his confusion.  He wasn’t sure how it could be such a happy memory for William.  Perhaps he was referring to the inauguration itself rather than his meeting with Nico.  That seemed more sensible.  Of course the memory of his aunt becoming the Matestra was important for him.

Another silence fell between them, but this time, Nico was less desperate to fill it.  He didn’t mind the silence; he only hoped that William didn’t mind it, either.  William, however, proved difficult to read.  He smiled at Nico whenever Nico turned to look at him, which Nico didn’t quite understand.  Why would he smile so much?

At least, Nico thought, the meeting was not off to a disastrous start.  William was polite.  He didn’t seem to be fed up with Nico yet.  Perhaps if Nico could keep himself from being too horrible a suitor, he would be tolerable enough for William to marry, and then when William tired of him, it wouldn’t matter anymore.

Next

[scaredycat113]

Line Simulator VR

Oh, Line Simulator. Where to begin with you...

This project came along at a very stressful time. I was in the middle of writing Rise Eterna, finishing up my masters, and starting a full time job to keep the lights on. Since my schedule was so busy, I almost passed this one up.

But I'm SO glad I didn't.

I first met with Helio, the Lead Game Designer, in late August. I was skeptical going in, mainly because of my schedule, but also because I was starting to doubt if I could really handle another big project. I took it on anyway despite my reservations and it worked out better than I could have imagined.

The team is amazing and really helped me grow as a writer. They handed me their ideas and I was able to turn them into something entertaining and interesting. My favorite part about the team was our team calls. Helio, Lidia (lead artist), and I would hop and and just talk about how we felt things were going. What worked, what didn't, where we can improve, and where we want all this to go. The game ended up taking a drastic left turn (fueled by many late nights and Helio's stress induced delirium), which allowed us to bring our wacky ideas to fruition.

We struggled a lot with this game, not because of the game itself, but the timeline. We were extremely pressed for time and had to push this game out in about three months. The time constraints challenged me to push out quality content on harsh deadlines which was an extremely rewarding experience.

During this project I was able to take on a few new roles as well which was an interesting experience. I was in charge of recruiting voice talent and assigning lines which was awesome because I got to hand pick how the words I wrote would sound to the player. The voice actors were absolute peaches to work with and I'm so grateful to them for making my words come to life. This project was a true collaborative effort and I really felt like part of the team, not just a writer. I was able to help Helio and Lidia flesh out some of their story ideas and write content that guided the player to our end goal. I was also able to include some of my own wacky ideas like a couple of weird side quests which I'm so excited to see in game.

So I'm a Narrative Designer. It's a little sureal when I write it out, but I'm here.

Mama, I made it.

Here's to the launch of Line Sim VR and my debut as a Narrative Designer. I hope you all enjoy it and please reach out to me with any feedback, I'm always looking to improve.

Go give it a playthrough when it drops on November 15th. Keep and open mind and buckle up. S**t gets weird.

Write on,

Allie

[elizabethrobertajones]

(Hello again) I was indeed the anon that made you write that looong post :D was so amazed by your attention to detail (which is why I asked about Cas' trenchie) And thank you for the masterpost, I already read half of it on my way to school :D How long have you been watching Supernatural if you don't mind me asking? (It seems like you have got the privilege to have watched season 7 whilst it was happening?)

Hi again! :D And wow that must be a long commute to school… Glad I can entertain you ;)

I first watched Supernatural back in 2008 and my friends had season 1 & 2 on DVD. I remember them getting season 3 and us watching it all together and this would still be in 2008-9 range, but to me it was a show that got cancelled because of the writers’ strike, got basically no attention in this country, and I’d probably have never heard of it again except that one of those friends was commenting in 2010 or 11 about the show and I realised they were talking about an episode I hadn’t *seen* (Hammer of the Gods, if you’re wondering :P) and it was like WHAT. THE SHOW DIDN’T END ON DEAN GOING TO HELL? So I watched ALL of it in like a few days and had my entire world shaken because the latest episode when I was done watching… was The Man Who Would Be King. 

(But then I was watching that in the beginning of my Extended Feverish Delirium of 2010-12 and have no memory of watching season 7, 8 or the first part of 9 as it aired except for the fact that it was one of my shows, I was watching HIMYM religiously on the same website, and I was checking all of my shows there whenever I was bored so I clearly *did* watch it and when I did my rewatch in season 9 I remembered random fragments of episodes… Basically it is a terrible idea to live off ibuprofen and cola for 3 years, don’t do it >.> The last episode I remember watching is 9x05 so I suspect the weird dog episode of season 9 just totally killed my buzz to go back and check for new episodes, which is awful because 9x06 is one of my favourite episodes and probably would have hauled me in to watch all of season 9… I only belatedly remembered months later and re-watched and found 9x18 was the latest episode and I was coming back to myself a bit more and I had a new job and I was trying to get my life back on track and recover from the latest nonsense setback in my life (I managed to maim myself on the job and needed surgery and spent ANOTHER year incapacitated taking painkillers and unable to do anything >.>)) 

So yeah it’s a complicated answer but I genuinely do not have real first impressions of anything between 7x01-9x05 because I don’t remember watching them even though I did :S 

[molecloth26-blog]

The Big Bang Theory Season 12, Episode 13 Recap: Sheldon and Amy Fight for Their Nobel Prize

After last week's weird episode, The Big Bang Theory is back on track with the return of "Fun with Flags," no mention of Leonard donating his sperm, and Sheldon powerfully sticking up for Amy (you tell 'em, Dr. Cooper). The episode also introduces Sean Astin and Kal Penn as physicists who could make or break Shamy's Nobel prize hopes, though the Muppet's Statler and Waldorf, two cranky obnoxious dudes, could have easily played the same parts.

Anyway, "The Confirmation Polarization" starts out on a high note when Amy receives an encouraging email from Dr. Pemberton (Astin) and Dr. Campbell (Penn) during a taping of "Fun with Flags." They seem to confirm Sheldon and Amy's theory about Super-Asymmetry, which sends Sheldon and Amy into a state of delirium. (They're so excited that Penny, Leonard, and the rest of the gang hear them from across the hall and assume they must be having sex.)

Sheldon and Amy tell Professor Siebert their news, and he suggests they could be looking at a Nobel-winning achievement. If they do win, they'll be the 39th and 40th Nobel Laureate winners from Cal Tech. Surprisingly Sheldon doesn't ask for a statue of himself immortalized on the campus, but you know that's coming. Later, Shamy meets with Drs. Pemberton and Campbell, who reveal this happened so fast because their experiment accidentally confirmed Super-Asymmetry. Sheldon and Amy are not amused. Pemberton and Campbell don't even understand Super-Asymmetry, but they don't care. They're just excited to be in Los Angeles and have tickets to a taping of Ellen. "Look at the four of us," Dr. Pemberton says, "changing the face of physics!"

Um, "the four" of you? Yep, apparently Pemberton and Cambell need to attach themselves to Sheldon and Amy's theory if there's any hope to win a Nobel.

PHOTO: Michael Yarish/Warner Bros. Entertainment

Later, Sheldon meets up with Leonard, Howard, and Raj to complain. Raj says he shouldn't worry because, "Super-Asymmetry is your paper. Everyone knows you discovered it first." Raj is right, Leonard says, but the Nobel committee has often favored scientists like Pemberton and Campbell. Either way, the whole thing is infuriating. (Not as infuriating, of course, as Leonard thinking of donating his sperm to Penny's ex-boyfriend.)

Sheldon then tells Pemberton and Cambell not to steal his idea; they can come up with their own. Campbell's all, "Yeah, that's not gonna happen." Pemberton snidely says, "Wouldn't that be something though!" Forget what I said about these two acting like Statler and Waldorf. They don't belong in a nice theater balcony. They deserve to live in Oscar the Grouch's trash can.

They eventually say they understand where Sheldon is coming from, but they're going to be part of this submission anyway. Sheldon's not thrilled—but if that's what it takes to win a Nobel, he's not going to say no. But that's when Pemberton and Campbell drop another bombshell: Only three of them can be named to the discovery, not four. (Side note: When did this thing turn in to a ride at Disneyland, where there's only room for a set amount of people in a row? Glad I never had Nobel ambitions.)

Sheldon wants Pemberton or Campbell to leave their name off the discovery, but neither's willing to budge. They reason that they're all physicists; since Amy is a neuroscientist, she doesn't belong. Sheldon storms out, but first he makes Pemberton and Campbell think he's on their side. Little do they know there's still 10 minutes left in the episode, and Sheldon's not going down without a fight.

Sheldon returns home for dinner with Amy and reluctantly tells her that only three people can share a Nobel prize. He explains that Pemberton and Campbell's university is recommending the two of them and Sheldon, and they want Cal Tech to do the same. If they present a united front, they'll have a better shot at winning. Amy reacts as if she's had the wind knocked out of her. "That makes sense," she says, still in shock.

Sheldon says he won't leave her off the submission, but Amy says maybe he should. Now Sheldon's shocked. "This has been your lifelong dream, and maybe you won't get another chance," she says. "I don't want to be the reason you don't win a Nobel."

Then, in the blink of an eye, Sheldon turns into Mr. Romance and tells Amy she's the only reason he even deserves a Nobel. Amy is touched but says if his best shot is to partner up with those idiots (my words, not hers), he should take it. "I just want you to be happy," she says. Amy, we do not deserve you.

Sheldon makes it seem as if he's going to move forward with this plan, but there's one more surprise left. In the next scene he storms into Professor Siebert's office and demands that Amy's name be included on the submission. "I will not be part of an award that does not recognize the value of her contributions," he says. "You either include both of us in the recommendation letter or don't bother writing one." More of this Sheldon, please!

PHOTO: Michael Yarish

Surprisingly, Siebert doesn't stand in Sheldon's way. Siebert acknowledges that it might cause a fight with the other team, but he also respects Sheldon's decision. "You and Dr. Fowler have my full support."

Sheldon's shocked, but also impressed with himself. I'm impressed with him, too. Amy can fight her own battles, but Sheldon's looked up to superheroes his entire life—it's nice to see him kind of turn into one, too.

Source: https://www.glamour.com/story/the-big-bang-theory-season-12-episode-13-recap

[albanlakepublishing-blog]

February Alban Lake Spotlight

Mike Morgan, Author

For our very first interview, we have Mr. Mike Morgan, a prolific and excellent author. He was kind enough to take time to answer our questions; but first, a quick bio for Mike:

 Mike Morgan lives in Iowa with his wife, two children, and increasingly infirm cat. After careers in the UK, Japan, and Texas involving accountancy, freelance illustration, non-fiction writing, and teaching, Mike now does improbably complex things on computers for a living. When he's not worrying about the cat or tidying up his kids' toys, Mike gets overwrought about politics and attempts to write short stories. It's possible his two hobbies get muddled up from time to time. He has written for several publishers in the UK and the USA, with pieces in anthologies, comics, and magazines. Follow him on Twitter as @CultTVMike, where he posts about all things sci-fi. Oh, OK, it's mostly Doctor Who.

 My website is: https://perpetualstateofmildpanic.wordpress.com/

 My latest project is this month's Outposts of Beyond.

  And on to the interview . . .

 Q: When did you first realize you wanted to be a writer?

 A: I've wanted to be a writer for as long as I can remember. I looked at book covers as a young child, maybe five or six, and thought, "I want my name on a book." When I got into comics with 2000AD and then Star Wars Weekly, this would be when I was 7, that desire spread to wanting to be in the credits boxes in comic books, too. Unfortunately, as I got older, it became apparent that selling work wasn't going to be as easy as I'd initially thought.

 I tried for a sustained period in my twenties to break into comics, but never got anywhere. At one comics convention in Bristol, while hauling my portfolio around, I got chatting with Matt Brooker, who was brutally honest with me. "Look," he said, "There's nothing particularly wrong with the way you draw, but there just aren't any openings. We hire on maybe one or two new freelancers a year and they have some quirk. You draw well, but there's nothing unique. To develop that style, you need to put in thousands of hours of practice, and you're not going to get paid for that. You don't strike me as independently wealthy, so I doubt you can afford to do it for free. So..."

 He was right. I was dirt poor. I got a job in accountancy, which I hated. But at least I could go back to affording food.

 Later, after years of doing things I loathed, and then teaching for several years in Japan, I immigrated here to the U.S. Starting a new career in Texas, I worked for seven years as a technical writer and editor, which helped me fine-tune my knowledge of English grammar and punctuation and gave me first-hand insight into how hard it is to express complex ideas in plain, no-nonsense sentences. I got enough feedback to sink a fleet of Titanics and developed a tough skin to criticism. I also learned how important it was not to treat my fellow writers the way I was treated, and I became a mentor to some of the newer team members. Although the working environment was hostile, I did love the act of writing and I found joy in helping others improve their written work.

 While all that was going on, I was continuing to put out one or two pieces of my own writing. Teaching in Japan gives you a lot of spare time, so I'd started floating a few things past publishers. Moving to Texas, I was determined to keep that up, but stuck in a car for three or four hours a day on a hellish commute, working tons of extra, unpaid hours, and starting a family didn't leave a lot of spare time. It was only with our move to Iowa, where I still am now, that I found a better work-life balance and was able to kick the writing into high gear. To my inordinate surprise, I discovered that publishers wanted to print my short stories. Not only that, but readers showed every sign of liking them. I was flabbergasted.

 I look back now and I see my name on a book cover and my name in a comic book credits box and I'm glad I never completely gave in. One of my best friends, Kath, said this to me years ago and it stuck with me: "What I like about you, Mike, is that you keep on trying." I'm sure she's forgotten ever saying that to me, but I remembered, and I've tried to stay that way.

  Q: What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?

 A: Oh, a 'quirk'! I have yet to develop one with my drawing, but with my writing...? Editors have often told me, in withering tones, that I over-write. You only have to glance at the length of this interview...

 Also, as part of over-egging a box full of puddings in every story, I tend toward the proliferation of pleonasms. And uncalled-for alliteration.

 If you catch me doing it, slap me.

  Q: What do you like to do when you're not writing?

 A: I watch lots of science fiction and read comics. I really enjoy reading stories to my two kids at bedtime, too. Honestly, with two young kids in the house, I spend a lot of time taking endless delight in everything they say and do. I try to carve out a few moments every day to remind my wife how much I appreciate her.

  Q: How many books have you written? Which is your favorite?

 A: I've had 10 short stories published professionally, with two more coming out in the next couple of months. A couple of those were my Titanville stories, which were published together in an e-book by Nomadic Delirium Press, getting me my first solo front-cover credit. I have a dozen more stories in slush piles as we speak, so one or two more will probably work their ways through to acceptance this year – that seems to be the typical ratio of stories sent to stories accepted.

 I've also had a few stories in charity anthologies, and a couple of poems (one was about Star Trek and was printed by Iron Press in a collection sold throughout a major high-street chain of bookshops in the UK), a few non-fiction articles about the long-running BBC TV series Doctor Who in various tomes, and a comic strip script in the British small press comic Futurequake. Another comic script is being drawn now, as it happens, for Futurequake. We're hoping it'll be included in the Spring issue, but we'll see how that goes.

 Oh, and I worked for a short while at an online word mill, putting out articles about sci-fi. You can find them at WhatCulture.com. They accumulated about three million page-views, I think.

  Q: What inspires you to write?

 A: I am drawn to the act of wrenching something into existence through the blunt application of imagination and willpower. I am compelled to create. For better or worse, you guys are on the receiving end of that compulsion.

 When it comes down to deciding what I'm going to write about, I think there are some themes I keep returning to: the beauty in the world, the triumph of love and kindness over indifference and cruelty, the eternal fight against injustice, how any attempt to simplify the complexity of the real world down into stark black-and-white concepts will lead to hate and death...

Also, I love writing characters who are flat-out wrong. There's nothing more fun and more human than someone who is utterly convinced about the rightness of a cause, and that cause is based on an utter misunderstanding. Really, that type of thinking characterizes most of our species' history. People who are wrong deserve our sympathy, our help, our love, not our derision. Anyway, that's some entertaining stuff to write about.

One final thought – I don't want to be a downer but I do feel time pressing on me. Nothing like worrying I'll be dead in a few years to spur me to get some writing done.

 Q: Do you set a plot or prefer going wherever an idea takes you?

 A: I try to have a clear idea of what the story's about before I get too far down the rabbit hole of writing. Preferably, I have an end worked out as well, even if that ending changes by the time I get to it. Sometimes, I'll start the story with the end and work my way backward to the beginning. But there should always be a purpose to a story, even if that purpose is to have fun.

 Every time I carve a tale out of the disorganized mess of my thoughts, the process seems different. One time, the whole story will spill out of me in a rush. Other times, I have to sit down and think through what I'm trying to express.

 Every now and then, a neat idea will occur to me, but I can't find a way to get a coherent plot out of it. Then, a second, entirely different idea will come to me, and I find mashing the two disparate strands together into the same reality brings the whole thing into focus.

 For example, someone having giant spiders in her home and not being bothered by them because they're not in any way dangerous is a neat mental image, but it's not a story in itself. But, add a second strand: imagine there's a neighbor whose job is to twist facts to meet political dogma and that neighbor comes into contact with those spiders... what happens? Does she believe the objective truth that they're completely safe to be around, or does she react with emotion and twist reality to meet that baseless viewpoint? After all, that's her job.

 Boom – you have conflict. The wrong-headed, fact-denying neighbor suddenly at war with nice, harmless giant-sized arachnids. For no other reason than she can't see the truth in front of her face, which is a very common and very plausible failing. What's more, the story takes on a greater message: we shouldn't twist facts to meet our prejudices, no matter how tempted we'd be to do that if we were in the neighbor's shoes.

 That's where A Spider Queen in Every Home came from, the mingling of two ideas that, on the face of it, can't coexist in a single narrative; but, they can, and that story was picked up and published in More Alternative Truths by B-Cubed Press.

 Lastly, some publishers require that you pitch ideas. There, you have to submit a complete plot, along with character notes, up front. If a pitch is accepted, there's no scope for changing details along the way as you write the actual story. For all you know, by altering the agreed-upon tale without consultation, you might be encroaching upon territory occupied by another story in the same collection.

 When fleshing out a pitch, it can feel like you're working while wearing a straightjacket. But it's an opportunity to find ways of making the piece as entertaining as possible without venturing beyond the plan you gave your word on. I've written a couple of stories based on pitches. Unto His Final Breath in Uffda Press's King of Ages: A King Arthur Anthology was created that way, and it garnered some nice reviews. I really like the world building I got to do in that short story.

  Q: What types and forms of writing do you do? If you're also an editor, what is your niche?

 A: I mostly write short stories these days, but I toy with novels. I do have a novel I'm working on (doesn't every writer?) - but, it's the short stories that sell. I am sneakily putting together various stories that work as elements within a greater whole, so that by the time they're all published you'll find they're a novel-length narrative printed in discrete parts across multiple publishers, books, and media. That's the idea, anyway.

 For example, the Titanville stories stand alone as individual tales, but the intent is to have themes and sub-plots that build as time goes on, without requiring the reader to be familiar with every installment. The Age of Asmodeus stories have a similar approach; there's a history to that world, and each story explores a different sliver of it. As those stories go on, readers will see various characters moving in and out of segments of the series or they'll be referred to. Again, the readers won't need to read every story, but there'll be a sense of events moving forward for those who do.

 With the tales featuring Professor Lazarus, the cumulative narrative will unfold using text-based stories and comic strips. Again, that's the hope. Futurequake, a British comic, has printed one story so far and has another one being drawn at the moment. With the short stories, I've had some luck; Flame Tree Publishing printed Fishing Expedition a while ago. I've written a couple more Lazarus stories since then that I'm waiting to hear back on, so we'll see how that goes.

 But you were asking about types of writing. Occasionally, I have a poem published. More often, I'll get non-fiction pieces accepted. I contribute on a semi-regular basis to the range on media and culture put out by Watching Books. This year, they're printing a volume called You on Target about the Target series of Doctor Who novelizations, and I have two essays in that.

 With editing, I offer my services to small presses who print my stories, with regards to proofreading or checking formatting. I'm always willing to help put out the best publication possible.

  Q: What is your area(s) of subject matter expertise? How did you discover this niche? What intrigues you about it?

 A: With living in Japan for several years, I found writing stories set there pretty easy. Not much research required! There's a story of mine being printed soon by you fine people at Alban Lake Press set in Japan. Kuro no Ken (The Back Sword) is slated for the next issue of Outposts of Beyond. The scenes in Ise City take place twenty minutes down the road from where I lived for three years, and the part in the vast cemetery—I've visited that cemetery and it really is that creepy. I love Japan. Those were some of the happiest years of my life.

 Having said that, I lived for longer in Stoke-on-Trent in the UK, and that was the setting for Reverse Horror Story. Your fine company published that piece in Bloodbond just last year. I had way too much fun putting Stoke-themed jokes into that monster-mash-up. I guess, to answer your question, I'm an expert at shoe-horning places I've lived into my stories. I find having a deep knowledge of the settings makes them feel more authentic.

 But, to be clear, I've never lived on the enormous asteroid Ceres, the setting of The Library of Ice in this month's Outposts of Beyond. I'd be willing to give it a try, though.

 Being serious for a moment, I keep writing about people who are struggling because I've been through that. Want to be an expert on the poor? Try being unemployed for years on end, not having enough to eat and worrying about losing the room you're renting. That'll give you an understanding of what that life is like. Newsflash – it's really stressful and depressing.

  Q: How do you balance your creative and work time?

 A: I have yet to find any balance, but live in hope. I get the kids to bed in the evening and then try to write. Sometimes, I even succeed.

  Q: Where have you been published? Upcoming publications? Awards and other accolades?

 A: Other than the things I've already talked about, I'd like to mention Nomadic Delirium's Divided States series, which explores a post-USA North America. My contribution to this excellent range was The Wall Is Beautiful. I hope to finish a second story in this shared universe. I was also fortunate enough to have submissions accepted in their Martian Wave and Disharmony of the Spheres collections.

 One other project I'm very proud to have participated in was Metasaga's Futuristica anthology. I had Something to Watch Over Us included in that amazing collection. I can't heap enough praise on that spectacular book; if you like science fiction, you need to own it.

 As far as upcoming releases go, that I haven't already called attention to, I have a story called Buddy System accepted in Myriad Paradigm's upcoming Mind Candy anthology. The intent is for that book to be released in the next few months. I also have something in the editing pile with Red Ted Books, which should be advancing toward publication this year.

 And, yes, it's a fanzine, but I like fanzines, I'm working with the wonderful people who put out the Doctor Who-themed Fannuals to see what they might want from me for their next volume. I'm so in love with the Fannual project; it's incredible fun. It's actually what I'm starting work on after finishing this interview.

  Q: What are you working on now?

 A: Well, Alban Lake announced they were going to do something with ghost stories, so, you know, I thought I'd try to submit to that. *Grins*

 In the pipeline are more Age of Asmodeus tales, more Titanville, more Lazarus, more space opera antics, more of everything I'm obsessed with.

  Q: Who are your favorite characters to write? How did they come into being, and what do you love - or loathe - about them?

 A: I love writing about Professor Lazarus. She gives her life in every story, usually to save the world from some terrible fate. Then, next story, she's alive again, in a world that's transformed. It forces me to reinvent her and her milieu every time. And there's a point to all her deaths; it's leading to something.

 She came into being because I thought, "Hah – killing the lead character every time would be funny." Then I thought, "What if it's the same lead character every time, and there's a reason she keeps coming back?" How does knowledge of her deaths affect her? Where, at a character level, does that propel the over-arching storyline?

 Another fun character was Silas Smith in The Man Who Killed Computers (published in Disharmony of the Spheres). He's able to lie to computers and have them believe what he's saying. Once you realize how he's doing that, it's less amusing, because you also realize that he can manipulate the humans in the story. I love the ambiguity of his character. He tries so hard to convince everyone he's a hero—the story revolves around how others respond to his claims.

  Q: Any advice you would like to give to aspiring writers?

 A: If someone says you need to improve, he or she is probably right. Every writer needs to improve, every day. It's a process that never ends.

 Don't take rejection personally. It's the work that sucks, not you.

 Keep trying. Stories are only published if they're written and then submitted.

 Realize that even after you've had a pile of stories published there will still be more defeats than victories. And that it's OK.

 Anything else you’d like to add that I haven’t asked? For example, what would you like to see more of in your specific genre? In the publishing field?

 We all like to get things for free. But—! Readers: try to pay for that fiction you're consuming. The more the publishers earn, the more they can pay the writers. The more the writers earn, the more they can write. It's a virtuous feedback loop. If you can't find good fiction out there, it's because you won't pay for it.

 Or, you know, you haven't been to Alban Lake's store. There's lots of good writing there.

  Once again, we’d like to thank Mr. Mike Morgan for his time and to thank all of you for supporting Alban Lake and all of these awesome authors and artists.