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skrltwtch · 4 years ago

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Graveyard Shift

Prompt: I know the sign says, "No shoes, no shirt, no service", but I just had the WEIRDEST night and your shop is the only building with lights on this early, and I'm really, really hoping you have some spare clothes behind the counter. Help? (Source in master list)

Word count: 4,255 words

Genre: Fluff, romance, smut, supernatural

Warnings: Smut

References: 1 Inglourious Basterds

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Graveyard shift is the fucking best — and the fucking worst.

For one, the shop is able to achieve that fine balance between having enough customers to justify its opening hours and keep me on its payroll, and having enough customers to not make me regret my choice of employment while I attempt to sort out my life. The silence that falls over the shop at two o’clock — without fail every night, like the general public know they have better places to be at two o’clock than a corner shop — grants it the perfect atmosphere for self-introspection and self-improvement. Have I learnt anything useful? Let’s … not talk about that.

Now, what’s the downside to this job, you ask? The customers, of course. There are fewer of them in the dead of the night, but God, the ones that do come in … Being situated on one of London’s busiest corners means a colourful clientele at all times of the day. Drunkards and yobs make up a sizeable number of the demographic that contribute to the shop’s cash drawer while I’m on duty. It’s both sickening and fascinating to deal with them. In my nine months of working here, I’ve seen it all — or I thought I have, until my attention is drawn to the naked man at the door.

It’s less than half an hour after sunrise. He doesn’t look like he’s knocked back a drink too many. (Can coffee make me see things I’m not supposed to be seeing at this hour?) He looks to be of sound mind, his franticness to be let inside aside. He’s handsome: his brown waves, wiry physique, and elegant features lend him a startling resemblance to an ancient Greek sculpture. Strangely, there is an abundance of scars all over his body, and not in a manner that’d signal self-harm. They look more consistent with animal scratches. I’m speaking from experience here: I have a cat, though it’s nigh impossible a cat did this to him.

Nonetheless, this ranks in the lower half of the top ten weirdest shit I’ve seen while on the clock.

‘Hello? Hello!’ That ought to be what he’s saying; I don’t proclaim myself to be an expert at lip reading. It’s encouraging that he’s aware of the sign preventing his entry and doesn’t think he’s above it, at least.

I shake my head at him. Rules are rules, mate. They apply even to hot, naked men.

‘Come on! Please?’ — I think.

‘Sorry!’ I shout, and I point at the camera above me. Colin, my manager, is a cool bloke. It’s about as likely that I’d lose my job for letting Mr Naked and Afraid grace the inside of the shop with his presence and providing him with service as it is that Mr Naked and Afraid is on something that isn’t obvious to my innocent eyes. Why tempt fate? There are other corner shops with less draconian policies down the street. I turn away and continue looking at my phone to spare us both our blushes. It is nippy outside …

Fuck it.

I motion for him to come in. I can explain this to Colin, should he decide to review this morning’s security footage on a whim. He’s a Cool Bloke™.

‘Thank you,’ says Mr Naked and Afraid. Fuck, the shop lighting is doing him more favours than he needs. ‘You won’t get in any trouble for this?’

‘Nah. I might get chewed out1 for this, but that’ll be the worst of it.’

‘Sorry. But thank you. Thank you. I’m George.’

Good. Mr Naked and Afraid is becoming a mouthful.

‘I’m Eva. How can I help, George?’

‘Do you have any spare clothes?’

‘It’s just me here, mate.’

‘I know. Can’t hurt to ask.’

Can I say, ‘You have balls’? Is that appropriate at a time like this? I exhale audibly. ‘Give me a second.’ I retreat into the staffroom behind the counter. Colin deserves a better staffroom than a lad hangout. I’ll clean up when there isn’t a naked man waiting on me outside — or not. I’m not their helper. I sort through the coat rack for something suitable. Andrew is the closest to George in stature, I think. Operating on that approximation, I grab Andrew’s jacket and trousers. I don’t want to have to think too hard about what my co-workers look like underneath their clothes. Besides, Andrew’s clothes have been here for ages. He won’t miss them.

‘Try these,’ I say.

‘Thank you. I’ll clean and return them, I promise.’ He reaches over the counter for the clothes.

‘Not so fast. Give me the craziest reason you’re butt naked, and if I like it, you get the clothes.’

‘Really?’

‘I have to tell my manager something. Might as well be something weird so I don’t get chewed out too hard.’

‘Fine.’ He puts his hands on his hips and looks around the shop — in search of inspiration, perhaps. I’d love to hear what he comes up with. He looks like someone with a good sense of humour. If we’d met elsewhere, I’d have thought about asking for his number and then chickening out at the last minute, because women like me don’t get anywhere with men like him. I keep a lookout on the entrance for any customers or co-workers, mostly because I don’t want to share this moment with anyone else.

‘Clock’s ticking, George.’

‘You didn’t say there’s a time limit.’

‘I’m not the one with my arse out in public.’

‘Alright. I’m a werewolf. I must’ve messed something up, because I got out of my flat last night and woke up in Trafalgar Square. I live in Hampstead. See these scars? It’s all me.’

I stare at him. He’s staring back at me, expecting a response. He looks serious. I — I can’t. I burst out laughing. Of all the things I thought I’d hear, that isn’t one of them.

‘That’s one I haven’t heard before. I love it.’

‘Yeah? Can I then —’

‘Not before you answer one more question, wolf boy.’ I mean that nickname with utmost sincerity.

‘Seriously …?’ Red blotches his cheeks. ‘Okay, okay.’

‘Were you born a werewolf or were you bitten?’

‘How is that relevant?’

‘Humour me.’

He rakes his hair with his fingers, and holds his inhalation and blink long enough for it to mean ‘I should’ve gone to the next corner shop’. Little does he know that his exasperation is making him look more attractive. I’ll treasure this moment forever. ‘Born. You don’t see any bite marks, do you?’

‘Touché. Here.’ I pass him the clothes.

‘Thank you, thank you, thank you.’

‘No, thank you for the laugh,’ I say, looking away from him as he tries Andrew’s trousers on for size. Andrew’s fashion sense is being wasted on us corner shop plebeians. ‘I love horror and supernatural shit. That was perfect.’

‘Cool.’ For fuck’s sake, he can also pull off the loud, brash prints Andrew favours? This is unfair. ‘I’ll pop these in the washer when I get home, and I’ll return them to you …’

‘I’m working tonight. I’ll be here at ten.’ Technically, I start work at midnight. Andrew’s scheduled for the evening shift today, and I’d love to see his face when George returns with his clothes. I can’t remember how long these specific items have been in the staffroom. Plus, like, ten o’clock is an acceptable time to meet someone who lives in Hampstead and probably has standard working hours, isn’t it? ‘If that’s not too late for you.’

‘That’s fine. Thanks again, Eva.’ He’s said the T word so many times, it’s starting to sound weird to my ears. Semantic satiation — that’s what the phenomenon is called. I learnt this from the 3,722nd post I read on Reddit some nights ago.

‘You’re welcome, wolf boy. See you tonight.’

He grins. ‘See you.’

Just as he turns to leave, I swear, I swear on my copy of The Killing Joke with a frayed spine because I put it in the same bag as my water tumbler with a loose cap, I see a flash of fangs.

✦✧✦✧

‘You’re here early,’ says Andrew.

‘It’s midnight somewhere in the world.’ I don’t join him behind the counter. I’m scheduled to start work at midnight, and that is exactly what I’ll do. Overtime means nothing to me. (I say that like it’s applicable in this instance.) ‘Did a guy come in to look for me?’

‘Nope. Hey, do you know what happened to my trousers and jacket? First one’s floral; second one’s mustard.’ Doesn’t it just sound like a ghastly combination? Andrew can pull it off. So can George — both items at the same time. I’ve only seen Andrew in one or the other.

‘Funny story, that.’

‘Share.’

‘Okay, picture this: It’s fuck o’clock in the wee hours of the morning. Sun’s coming up. I’m on my second tumbler of coffee and running out of things to keep myself entertained. Suddenly, a naked bloke is asking to be let in; he’s begging. He doesn’t look drunk or high. I let him in because I’m a bleeding heart at heart. He asks me for spare clothes. Thank God you treat this place like your second closet. I ask him to hit me with the craziest reason he’s naked to help me decide if I should help him. He says he’s a werewolf.’ I am fighting to hold in my laughter. ‘And he says it with the straightest face you can imagine.’

‘Eva, this bloke was hot, wasn’t he?’

‘Yes, but —’

‘You’d have given him the clothes no matter what he said.’

‘I didn’t tell you this story for you to call me out like that.’

‘You’re welcome. Does Colin know you breached one of the shop’s sacred creeds?’

‘Does he have to know?’

‘No comment. It’s not my arse on the line.’

‘Colin won’t do me dirty like that. I did a good deed.’

‘… No comment. Am I going to get my stuff back?’

‘That’s why I’m here.’

‘Bollocks, I thought it’s because you like my company.’

‘Why not both?’

The bell above the door jangles, cutting our conversation short. It’s none other than the man of the hour himself. Never have I been this ecstatic to see someone enter the shop. He has no business filling out his grey shirt as well as he is.

‘George! Hi!’ I drown out Andrew’s snicker. Can’t I be excited about speaking with an attractive, charming man who isn’t drunk or in need of goods and services a corner shop can provide in the shop at this time of night? I might also never see him again after this, so as far as I’m concerned, I deserve every second of this.

‘Hello, Eva,’ says George. ‘Got the clothes cleaned like I said I would.’ He shows me the paper bag in his hand. McDonald’s. I can hear Andrew’s heart giving out. ‘Thank you again.’

I take the bag from him and place it on the counter, the golden arches staring Andrew in the face. ‘You’re welcome. You should thank him, too.’ I jerk my thumb at my near-apoplectic co-worker. ‘This is Andrew. The clothes are his.’

‘Thank you,’ George says to the other man, who responds with a tight-lipped nod, still in the midst of computing what he did in a past life to deserve having his clothes returned to him in a McDonald’s paper bag. ‘I followed the instructions on the labels as best I could. If I ruined something, I’d be happy to pay you back for it.’

‘Thanks, mate.’ Andrew takes the clothes out of the bag and gives them a quick once-over. ‘Looks good. You can have the bag back.’ He pushes it toward George with his finger.

‘Okay …’ George takes the bag, flattens and folds it into a neat square, and holds it under his arm. ‘Eva, I can’t — I can’t thank you enough for this morning. Last night was … weird.’ He swallowed.

‘Yeah, sure …’ I wink at him. ‘… wolf boy.’

‘Are you working now?’

‘No, but I will be in’ — I consult my watch — ‘an hour and a half’s time. I came in early because I know I don’t have the same concept of day and night as most people.’

‘Graveyard shift: fun as shit’ is Andrew’s sterling contribution to this part of the conversation. I like that, actually.

‘You didn’t have to — I’m more of a night owl,’ says George. Is that because he has a closer affinity to the night because of what he is? I convince myself it is. ‘Do you want to go get some coffee nearby? It’s the least I can do. I hope I didn’t get you in trouble.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ I say. I should talk to Colin about this soon. ‘Sure, I’d love some coffee. Be a dear and watch the shop for me, will you, Andrew?’

✦✧✦✧

George leads me into his flat. Our bellies are full from dinner. I love and hate eating with him sometimes. I love his company, obviously; I hate that he can put away so much without any of it showing on him. Earlier, he had pork chops, lamb meatball stew, and a fudge brownie with ice cream. I get that he needs all that protein to maintain his figure, and I’d love and support him all the same if he were, but he’s not an Olympics athlete like Michael Phelps. Nonetheless, all that food’s imbued him with oodles of energy, the kind that’s seen us seek to end the night on a more gratifying note at someone’s place. (Mine’s out of the question tonight because my flatmate’s working toward the same goal with her latest squeeze.)

The farthest we make it before the urge to eat each other’s faces overpowers us is the sofa. I’m on top of him, just showering him with gentle kisses on his lips, and sometimes his cheeks and nose. I’m content with savouring his taste for now. His breathing is heavy. He’s warm to the touch. His kisses are more insistent. I yield to his desperate, almost plaintive moans and allow our tongues the pleasure of getting to know each other better. His hand is feverishly fondling my thigh and hip; the latter has developed a mind of its own, grinding up against him. Deciding our mouths couldn’t have all the fun, I move on to his neck, which he kindly bares for me. His throat is thrumming with — growls?

I look up at him and say, ‘Do you hear that?’

‘Hm?’ His eyelids flutter open. I gasp.

Staring back at me are yellow eyes, brilliant and wild.

Oh, my God.

‘George — your —’

‘Why?’ He puts his hand to his mouth. ‘Shit.’ I get off him. I see the fangs I thought I saw the first time we met. ‘What’s today’s date?’

‘It’s the eighth.’

‘Fuck!’ The force with which he cursed propels him out of his seat. ‘You have to go. I’m sorry,’ he says, taking off his shirt. His chest sheens with sweat. ‘I forgot.’

I don’t need to ask him what it is he forgot: I know the answer on a primeval level. I know I should leave. I stand transfixed by what’s happening before me. His flesh twists and ripples. The growls get louder. The proportions of the hand on his chest — hairier than I’ve ever known it to be — are all wrong. Poking — pushing out from underneath his fingernails are claws. He turns away from me. The sight of protruding knobs of bone under the skin along his spine causes chills to run down mine. My poor George. My poor wolf boy.

‘I’ll go,’ I say, as much as I want to stay with him. ‘Will you be okay?’ I shake my head. Stupid question. He’s in agony.

‘I’ll be fine.’ There is greater conviction in the violent gurgle that follows than his words. ‘Now go. Please.’ His back arches and expands with muscle. He cries out in pain.

I do as he says. I hear the locks rattle and turn behind me. Though his strained growls and yips are horrible to hear, I stick around outside his door. I don’t know why. I don’t know why I don’t quite feel afraid either of what I saw in there or of what I now know. Instead, I feel … I press my legs together and bite my lip. Not the time. After what feels like an eternity of guttural noises that have no right coming from a human throat, a howl, long, almost melodious, pierces the air. It’s almost … reassuring. So much about him makes sense now.

I take my phone from my bag, and I send him the following: ’Text me when you see this. Love you.’

✦✧✦✧

I shift on my feet as I wait for George to answer the door. I’m worried about him. Does he not want to see me anymore after last night? No, it’s an insult to the both of us for me to think that he thinks I’d be narrow-minded enough to stop wanting to be with him because of what he is. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. The food I brought for him is getting cold. Can he smell it from inside his flat? I press the doorbell again. I wish he had a neighbour to tell me what I can do in times like this.

The door opens. He looks a mess: he’s in boxers, and his hair is sticking out every which way. His eyes go wide. The memory of his yellow eyes resurfaces. I feel a little weak in my knees.

‘Good morning, love. I came to see if everything is okay,’ I say, ‘and I brought breakfast.’ I show him the paper bag. The food inside still smells good.

‘I thought —’ He doesn’t need to complete his sentence for me to know what he means. It’s written plainly in the furrow of his brow, the sadness in his eyes. Damn it. I didn’t want to be proven right about that.

‘Of course not. You didn’t see my message?’

‘I haven’t checked my messages. Sorry.’

‘Oh.’

‘Please, come in. Are you off work today?’

I nod.

His flat, too, is in disarray. It looks just as if an animal went wild in here. Pillows and books are all over the floor; some of the former have been ripped apart. Sunlight shines through the gaping holes in the curtains. Nothing’s broken, at least. George’s head hangs low. ‘I haven’t had the time to clean up … nor was I expecting visitors. I called in sick to work and went back to sleep. I forget what happens when I don’t take my meds before I transform.’

‘Let me guess — the last time that happened was a year ago?’

‘Yeah, probably. I don’t know. That was — that was different. I guess I was too excited about our date that I forgot what yesterday was.’

I walk him to the sofa, and we sit down. The food is left to sit out on the coffee table. ‘It’s okay,’ I say, stroking his arm lovingly. ‘I wasn’t … I’m not freaked out or anything. I love horror and supernatural shit after all.’ I chuckle nervously, more so because I hate my tendency to resort to awful humour in an attempt to defuse tense situations. ‘So, um … I owe you an apology for laughing at you when you first told me.’

‘Don’t. I could’ve said something else. I didn’t. I wanted the clothes fast, and after the night I’d had, that was the most out-there thing I could think of in a snap.’

‘Yeah, then I made it into a thing between us! I call you “wolf boy”! You never asked me to stop! And I told everyone how we met! Everyone knows you’re a werewolf!’ I gasp. So. Many. Exclamation. Marks.

‘This is our thing. Only you know for certain. I feel like I can breathe now.’

I lay my head on his chest. ‘You don’t have to be afraid. You don’t have to hide.’

‘That first sentence sounds like something I’m supposed to say.’

‘So, George … about last night … was that because you were about to — or …’

His words come out almost in a snarl: ‘I wanted you. I want you.’ His lips are centimetres away from my neck. His breath is hot on my skin.

‘Are we like … mates now, then?’ I giggle as I draw an indiscriminate shape on his chest with my finger. I may or may not have spent a considerable amount of time last night reading up on wolf behaviour. The thought of what lies in store for me is a little exhilarating, an observation I had a mild developmental crisis over when I felt that first pang of passion from applying what I read to our relationship.

‘Yes.’

He licks my neck. My core tingles with excitement at the ramifications of his declaration — for the record, I meant it as a light-hearted question — and at what’s about to come next, based on my research. Then he pushes me down onto my back, and I see his eyes, still blue, flicker with the same intensity as last night. He hikes up my dress and gets straight to nuzzling my mound. He laps his tongue over my underwear and inner thighs, the strokes long, soft. I hum impatiently. My underwear is getting soaked. He slides it off my pelvis, and he promptly buries his face in my folds. Fingers come into the picture soon after. I writhe in his grasp, desiring release.

And Lord, does it come.

I don’t get to wait for my legs to stop quivering, as he rises from between them and says, ‘On all fours, love’, his voice a lusty rasp. I scramble to my hands and knees. He’s never asked for this before. I’m liking this greater sense of freedom he now has around me. How much had he been holding back? I spread myself for him. He pushes his cock up against my slit. I let out a small, startled ‘Oh’ when he enters me. I feel pinpricks where his fingertips are. Each thrust is deep and brutal. It hurts a little, but it hurts so good. I press the side of my face into the couch and close my eyes. Stars crash into each other in the blackness behind my eyelids.

Though he’s the werewolf here, I’m the one whimpering and moaning like an animal, too, while he huffs and growls with each movement. The sounds encourage him. ‘Please, don’t stop, don’t stop …’ I breathe. My walls convulse around his girth and fill up with an unbearable heat and wetness. Come drips out of me and trickles down my thighs. Then his thrusts become shallower and rough, his fingertips threaten to leave bruises on my skin, and he empties himself inside me. He lets out a strangled howl; my lip almost bleeds from how hard I’m biting down.

I feel so empty, almost a little sad, when he pulls out. I settle into a lounging position on the sofa. He wedges himself behind me. I gently fondle his business, still hard. He resumes licking my neck, sometimes rubbing his face on my skin.

‘I’m sorry if that was … weird. It’s the first time I fucked like that — and the first time I fucked after the full moon.’

I turn around and kiss him. ‘You were amazing.’ His ears turn pink. ‘Am I your first girlfriend who knows?’

‘Yes. About being mates …’ He pulls me closer to him. ‘I can do something about that. If you want. No pressure. It’s a huge decision.’

I won’t lie and say I didn’t consider the idea at least once last night. The dream I had about transforming and running alongside him on all fours can attest to that. But I tell him, ‘I need to think about it first.’ I don’t want him to think I’m rushing headlong into something I have little to no knowledge about. (Tabbing back and forth between pages about wolf behaviour for at least two hours doesn’t make me an expert. I’m not even sure if it’s relevant.) I also wasn’t expecting this question to come up so soon, considering he thought I’d leave him. I sweep my thumb across his lips, then his nose. ‘Maybe if I see you in your wolf form first …’

‘Fair enough. Promise me you’ll still love me the same after you’ve seen him. He’s more fun than I am, even when hopped up on industrial-strength bear tranquiliser.’

‘It’s going to take a lot to top what I’ve seen in the last year — and the last hour.’

He chuckles. ‘I’m in trouble.’

I spend the day at his place. (What? I’m taking a mental health day, and being with my boyfriend does wonders for my mood.) We fuck several more times, unable to get enough of each other; we’re like lovesick puppies. He lets shades of his true self slip through on occasion. He assures me it’s not because of the full moon. I assure him I know. Until today, I didn’t think it’d been possible for him to become more alluring. I give him my answer to his offer before sunset, which he happily accepts. At the end of the day, I lie in my wolf boy’s arms, waxing gratitude for the graveyard shift at the corner shop a year ago.

#exophilia #terato #werewolf #monster love #monster romance #mine

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misterewrites · 3 years ago

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Secret Agent Bard (Welcome to the Underground!)

Hello everyone! E here with a new chapter of the underground! Woo! I hope you are all doing good and staying safe.

So I actually have more to say today! That's a trip. I’ll have an author’s note under the line.

So that's it for now. Stay safe, take care of you and your loved ones, stay out of trouble, wash your hands, wear your mask, get vaccinated if you can and push to release the vaccine world wide cuz we're all in this together. Have a great week and thanks for reading. I appreciate it and feel free to tell your friends, reblog, drop likes and feedback i love it all. Bye for now and enjoy!

If you want an easier place to read the story cuz tumblr sucks sometimes here’s a link to the chapter https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/79541746

The First Chapter: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/68094967

and since you made it this far here’s a link to all my stories!

https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/pseuds/MrE42

Byeeeeee!

Author’s note: Today’s work will be a little different as there will be singing. The chapter with the bard is gonna have singing? Go figure haha So if you see a sentence in Italics, that means someone is singing. Bold and italics represents various people singing as a group. The song in question is called twiddles. There's different versions of it but the one I chose is from the misbehavin maidens. Great group but all their work ranges from innuendos to straight up not safe for work so listen at your peril. I have now completed my responsible adult duties haha. here’s a link to the chosen song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iS1-_fKF5ug

Summary: Oliver has quite the task ahead of him as the group splits to achieve their goals. Leading Sel and Flora, the young bard will have to think quick on his feet to ensure this mission is a success. Luckily he's an old hand at this. Ironically the one person who could distract him may make a surprise appearance tonight.

-----

Oliver stood quietly, arms crossed and his mind thoughtful as the group prepared to go their separate ways. While ideally nothing would go wrong, that was a childish belief: Every person and robotic being here knew safety was not guaranteed in their line of work.

Even the old man knew the risks.

Oliver hated doing nothing. He thrived when he was busy, focused on whatever task required his attention whether it be being a better bard or upholding the Choir’s values. Too many ghosts and regrets lingered on the edges of his mind and he found the best solution was to simply keep occupied.

But that was his coping mechanism, not everyone else. He knew better than to rush his team: The party would last at least another few hours and beside the goal of getting Sel to the third floor, there was nothing else to do. No information to gather, nothing to review. Let them have their moment, it was good for morale.

Terri and Flora were sickeningly adorable: Hands clasped tightly with Terri tearfully asking her girlfriend to not poison everyone. Flora gave a halfhearted promise while as they shared a tender kiss. Terri noticed her less than enthused tone but refused to press the matter further.

Tyrell stood awkwardly to the side, his face twisted in a strange mixture of sick and excited. He fidgeted with something in his pocket, seeking comfort from whatever lay within. Given the shape of the bulge and size, Oliver guessed it was a knife.

Sel stood nearby, motionless in the shadows of the alley. They hadn’t moved in some time though he suspected the automaton was simply waiting for the next phase of the plan.

“Alright” Oliver spoke up, his voice firm yet gentle “Times up. You have your assignments?”

Uneven murmuring responded.

“Let’s go.”

Oliver, Sel and Flora went down one end of the alley, Terri and Tyrell disappearing in the opposite direction.

-----

It didn’t take long for the trio to find the main streets of the Merchant Ward and make their way towards the Brambleoak banking office. The crowds weren’t as thick as they had been during the day but Oliver knew everyone out and about did so with a purpose.

“Bard.” Flora asked without warning, breaking the awkward silence “Question.”

“Answer.” Oliver cheekily replied.

Flora glared.

Oliver coughed “Yes?”

“You are a First Chair Soprano correct?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Yet you are so young. How did you manage that? I thought First Chair ranks were only reserved for experienced or particularly skilled members. You don’t seem to be very magically powerful.”

Oliver paused for a moment, trying to best answer the question.

In a way Flora was correct in her assessment: He wasn’t particularly powerful as a spellcasting bard. Unlike Flora who clearly committed herself fully to nature and thus druidic magic, Oliver had only recently thrown himself into the magical arts.

Unless you were a wizard who studied the secrets of the universe with a very intimate and well versed knowledge of magic, most spellcasters drew their power from sources of existence: Clerics from their gods, Druids from nature, Warlocks from something beyond mortal existence yet not quite a deity, sorcerers because a family member fucked around with pure incomprehensible concepts. Magic was the fabric of the universe and the more you threw yourself into a source of power, the more the source threw itself into you, guiding your hand and your spells.

Of course each, wizards exempt, were limited in their spellcasting options. Clerics were powerful holy/unholy practitioners but couldn’t command plant life to save their lives. Druids were in tune with nature and the weather and all the lovely flora and fauna but ask them to superimpose an image onto something and they’d give you a dumbfounded look. Warlocks kinda just do whatever their sugar patrons felt like lending.

Magic bards drew their power from the arts: Drawing, singing, poetry, even witty and funny satire. Bards were in tune with life, with existence. Art could heal, could hurt, could make you feel happy and sad. It could make you feel like a whole new person or perhaps take you to a time and place you’d forgotten. Bards sung the song of life and Oliver was no exception.

However, Oliver still wasn’t sure what he could do exactly. His magical muscle was average on a good day and he could only cast a few spells before needing a good night’s rest. The basic healing spells and comprehension language he cast earlier today had taken a good chunk of his energy but he relied more on his wit than raw magical strength. He discovered creative and useful ways to cast his spells like amplifying dissonance noises to distract and disorient foes or temporarily place another person’s image over himself. Magic was as much about creativity as it was skill, pushing the limits of what you can do with your particular brand of spells.

“I’m clever.” Oliver answered honestly “The whole magic of the arts is new to me but I’ve been in the Choir for a long time now. I used to be Tenor like Sel here but more fast talking than breaking and entering. I guess they carried over my old position into my new one.”

Flora nodded, satisfied “That answers much. How long have you been a bard?”

“Few years now.�� Oliver checked the street sign to ensure they were on the right path “The magic part is going on 3 years.”

“I see.” Flora scratched her chin “I’ve been a druid my whole life so it is a strange concept to be so new to the spellcasting arts yet hold such a high rank.”

Oliver gave a casual shrug “Not sure what you want me to say. We’re here by the way.”

The bank looked as unkempt as Oliver had remembered: Faded, peeling green paint with gaudy gray stone pillars. Two guards in green uniforms stood in front of the massive reddish brown doors that led into the bank.

“Lea’s mercenaries.” Sel pointed out “They are not letting anyone in.”

“Correction.” Oliver brushed off nonexistent dirt from his washed-out outfit “They’re not letting nobodies in. Luckily tonight we’re somebodies. Follow my lead.”

Oliver let out a tense breathe before strolling forward, his mannerism cocky yet unsteady. He reached the top of the steps when two sharp looking blades reached out to stop him.

“Halt” The elvish woman spoke with a hint of irritation “You lost?”

“Not at all!” Oliver beamed with a smile that was too wide to be natural “I’m here for the party. There is a party inside no?”

“No” The human man spat out.

Oliver gave a forgetful grin “Oh? I could’ve sworn Brambleoak was having some sort of charity event tonight. I’d show you my invite but I think I misplaced it.”

The elvish woman sneered “Right. How convenient for you having lost your special one of a kind invite.”

“Pfft.” Oliver scoffed “Special one of a kind invite? Reiner hands them out like candy. Probably find one in a gutter nearby.”

The guards shared an unspoken understanding with one another.

“Well.” The human began “Let’s pretend that is true.”

“It is but go on.”

The human’s eyes narrowed “Why should we let you in? You dress rather poorly for someone claiming to be in Reiner’s usual circles.”

Oliver let out an exaggerated gasp as he puffed out his chest “Do you know who I am?”

“Umm no.”

Oliver growled unhappily, his fist clenched tightly within his pocket “I am rich! I AM POWERFUL! AND I DEMAND ACCESS!”

As quick as lightning, Oliver flung a handful of gold coins towards the pair. The two reeled back in surprised as the money clanked onto the smooth marble floor. A moment hardly passed before the guards were shoving the loose coins into their tunic pockets like hungry dogs. They straightened up, eyes alive with greed.

“Of course sir” The elvish woman bowed her head in apologize “Deeply sorry for that.”

“Please go ahead.”

Oliver gave a self satisfied nod before moving past the pair only to stop as he heard the sounds of swords scraping each other. He turned backwards to see the guards barring access to Flora and Sel.

Flora looked back and forth between the guards, her eyes calculating and cold. Sel stood still but clearly at the ready for any sort of trouble.

“They’re with me.”

The Elvish woman shook her head “We said we’d let you in. These two? Definitely not Reiner’s usual prey.”

“They aren’t” Oliver admitted “But I need them.”

The human turned to him, suspicion in his eyes “Why?”

“She…” Oliver pointed lazily towards Flora “Is my street doctor.”

“Street doctor? As in….?”

Oliver gave a cheery wink “The fun kind.” And for give measure, he added a weak shiver to his act “Ugggggh I feel cold, are you cold? It’s cold.”

Before anyone could say anything, Oliver began shaking. He rubbed his hands for ‘warmth’ while swaying back and forth.

“Uh oh.” Flora spoke dully, pushing past the guards and holding Oliver steady “He’s crashing. I need to give him his umm medicine.”

“Medicine?” Oliver repeated, his voice soft yet manic “Yes medicine. I need it. I NEED IT!”

Folks began to turn their way, the guards shifting uncomfortably under the sudden attention they were receiving.

“And this one?” The Elvish woman gestured to Sel.

Oliver began to rock back and forth, his voice a harsh whisper. “Guard. Guard. Guard guard guard guard.”

The human threw up his hands in defeat “Bah! Get him in there and fixed! Any trouble and I’ll personally come over to beat your asses.”

“Thank you sir.” Flora murmured through gritted teeth. She guided Oliver and Sel through the doors and into the party within.

Flora sighed as Sel cracked the tension out of their fingers. Oliver straightened up, wiping the sweat from his brow.

True to his expectations, the bank had been altered to be suitable for a charity event: Torches lined the walls, casting the building into a bright light. The desks normally found on the floor were gone as to allow a more spacious setting. Oliver counted a handful of guards scattered about, wandering about for any sign of trouble. All except for the lone guard beyond the empty elevated platform who stood in front of the stairway to the upper floors.

“What now?” Flora asked

“Split up. Sel stay close to the door, Flora and I will figure out a distraction.”

“Sounds good.”

And without another word, Oliver was swallowed whole into the crowd.

-----

It had taken an hour for Oliver to figure out what kind of distraction he would need.

The patrols themselves hadn’t been very difficult to plan for: They would move randomly about, keeping an eye on the party and each other. He counted about 6 of them total and each one of them was easily starstruck. At the sign of any disagreement, they would swarm in groups of three and quickly threaten any troublemakers into compliance. However, upon meeting anyone with even the smallest bit of fame, they would subtly motion to each other and make their way as one to the person in question, hoping for a glance or the chance for an autograph.

So the floor guards were no problem but the one standing watch over the door was much more difficult. Evidently Lea was smart enough to give the most important job to the most responsible of his idiots. The stairway guard or Stairy as Oliver labeled him, would not budge at the sign of any trouble. Loud arguments, agitated party goers, a waiter being tripped (sorry it was for science buddy). None of these would pull him from his post. Celebrities wouldn’t either. Any time his buddies motioned to a famous person, he would shrug his shoulders and stay put.

Oliver was beginning to wonder if Flora needed to poison Stairy until he noticed something about half way into his observations: Stairy was a music lover. Specifically a cute girl music lover.

His gaze would wander every time he caught sight of a pretty girl who happened to be too close to him. Oliver wasn’t sure at first so he decided to test his theory. With his pocket change lessened, Oliver noticed how often a girl would catch Stairy’s eye. His attention didn’t shift when they fell in front of him, obviously in distress, or walked slower allowing him to enjoy the view longer but Oliver caught him smiling and tapping his foot when the odd girl would sing. He even staggered away from his door a few steps at a time before catching himself and returning to his post.

So the best distraction would be a girl who could sing and have some level of fame attached to her name.

Oddly specific and Oliver hadn’t the slightest idea how he was going to mange that. He was attempting to solve this puzzle when something caught his ear.

“Get off me you mulched dirt licker!”

That rather unique set of cursing could only mean one thing: Flora.

Oliver turned to where he last spotted her and found the young druid being hassled by a tall man in an elegant uniform.

Oliver noticed the guards were looking about, not yet spotting the commutation but aware something was going on. He needed to act first if he wanted to stop Flora deciding to kill everyone in the room.

The bard quickly slipped into the crowd, darting and weaving between any and everyone he could. He saw Flora slip a small vial into her hand as the man towered over her.

“I jus wanna dance.” the man’s words slurred out of his mouth “A pretty thing like yo shou wanna dance”

Flora’s eyes narrowed angrily “For the last time you dried poop stain, LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Flora pulled back her hand, prepared to throw the mysterious vial at the drunk’s face.

“Whoa!” Oliver cried out, tightly grasping onto Flora’s wrist “What seems to be the problem?”

“Nothing I can’t solve on my own.” Flora coldly glanced towards the drunken man.

“One sec.”

Oliver eyed the man carefully, absorbing every little detail he could.

He could see the muscles strain against the fabric of his light green tunic so this man worked in something physically laborious. The sheathed sword on his belt weight seemed to throw him off balance with every step. His gaze was unsteady and Oliver could see his pupils dilating wildly.

So this man was physically fit, armed with a sword in a charity event for the rich people and wearing light green tunic while currently drunk.

“You should leave her alone” Oliver said, sarcasm dipping from each word “You are so not her type.”

“So?” The man hiccupped “What’s the big deal?”

“So she’s got a girlfriend you idiot.” Oliver gestured with his hand “Besides you should go before your boss Lea gets here. I’m betting he won’t be happy one of his undercover mercs is currently drunk on the job. Of course I could always tell your captain what’s going on. That’s him over there right?”

Oliver gestured to the closest guard making his way towards the trio. He didn’t look any different than any guards but Oliver noticed his green was a shade darker than the rest. Lea probably used different hues to signify rank in his mercenaries.

The drunk’s face paled as he fidgeted nervously. He rose his hands in surrender, eyes darting between the two “Sorry.”

“Any trouble?” The captain approached, his hand tightly held around the hilt of his blade.

Oliver beaned cheerfully, trying his best to pull attention away from the fuming Flora “Not at all my good sir. This man simply mistook us for someone else, correct?”

The drunk nodded slowly “My bad. Forgive my intrusion.”

The captain gave a cold smirk “Apologizes. Mikey?”

The drunk flinched “Yes sir?”

“A word in private. Now.”

Oliver let out a sigh of relief as the captain dragged Mikey away..

“You should’ve let me poison them.” Flora muttered darkly.

Oliver scratched the back of his neck tiredly “Night’s still young. Still might get your chance if I can’t figure a way past Stairy.”

Flora tilted her head quizzically “Stairy?”

“The asshole at the base of the stairs.” Oliver answered absentmindedly as he spotted a familiar streak of platinum blonde hair among the crowd of strangers “And I just figured it out. Can I trust you not to poison everyone here?”

“You have an hour. I get bored easily” Flora swirled the sickly purple liquid in the vial threateningly.

“You and me both.” Oliver patted her shoulder before chasing down his perfect distraction.

-----

Oliver’s heart began to thunder loudly in his ears, a nervous and uncontrollable energy overtaking his resolve. The mission was important but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to see Maria today.

Maria Thoreau was the daughter of a powerful, influential family. The Thoreau’s were more concerned with their standing in high society than any virtuous endeavors and thus each one of their children was trained from birth to excel in their chosen field. Maria’s older brothers were an aspiring politician and merchant respectively.

Maria’s path was to be a well famous singer and patron of the arts. She wanted nothing more than to sing for the people. Unfortunately, her father only saw a chance to further the family’s good name and tied his desire for power with her passion and dream. It was bittersweet really but nothing much could be done about it.

Yet.

Maria knew Oliver as a musical rival who thwarted her group’s attempts at winning local competitions which in turned derailed her father’s plans. So needless to say she was less than thrilled when she caught him making his way over.

“Ollie” she forced a smile while her hazel eyes narrowed, peeved “I’m surprised to see they let you into this exclusive event.”

Oliver gave a cocky shrug “Well your beauty caught my attention and I couldn’t resist trying to figure out a way in.”

Maria’s cheeks burned a pinkish hue.

Maria was the same age as Oliver with short, tastefully cut dark brown hair. A single streak of platinum blonde hair hung off the side of her face, giving her such a cute look. Her clothes were practical tonight since she wasn’t performing: A simple white blouse with a long flowing dark blue skirt that went all the way down to her feet. Her shoes were sensible dark blue flats designed for comfort over style.

Maria coughed into her hand, willing her blush away.

“So.” She cleared her throat “Is this your sad attempt to throw me off my game? You won’t win the next competition. We’ll be dealing with professional judges this time.”

Oliver’s eyes widen in false surprise “There’s a competition here? Fancy that. I hadn’t been made aware of that but since we’re both in town, why not have a round two?”

“Oliver….”

“I mean” Oliver went on, pretending not have heard “You are a much better singer solo than with those harpies you’re forced to keep around.”

Maria glanced to the side timidly “Don’t be absurd, the Melodic Maidens are a perfect, well oiled machine.”

Oliver scoffed dismissively “I suppose they’re nearby, listening in. Hardly leave you alone, don’t they?”

Maria opened her mouth to respond when a shrilly voice cut in.

“What do you know you two bit hack? How much did you bribe the judges last time?!”

Oliver gave a strained smile as the rest of the ladies forced their way into view.

“Lilly, Filly, Sally. You suck.”

The triplets snarled in unison, openly glaring at the bard.

Lilly, Filly and Sally were Maria’s chains: They were as much there to further her career as they were to report back to daddy to ensure the errant daughter stayed on course.

As triplets, they all shared the same features: Three pairs of dull green eyes and long messy black hair. Even their clothing were the same with each wearing a strapless dress that showed way too much skin and skirts that were way too short. The only reason Oliver could tell them apart was due to their preferred colors: Lilly in a shade of pink that was bright for her skin tone, Filly with a pale ugly yellow and Sally in seas of dark red.

The trio surrounded Maria, their arms embracing her in an uncomfortable hug. Maria bit her lip, trying to hide her uneasy.

“Still wearing that tacky outfit huh Ollie?” Lilly eyed his faded clothing distastefully.

Sally let out an unfriendly laugh “Ollie always looks like trash. Not even prize money could buy an ounce of class.”

“Actually” Oliver brushed his shoulder dismissively “Class is cheap. No amount of money could buy an ounce of character. You can blow hot air at me all you want but nothing in this world could ever change the fact that the three of you are bitches.”

The trio clicked their tongues disappointingly, their normally plain faces twisted into unflattering visages of rage while they screamed as one.

“HOW DARE YOU INSULT US?!”

“YOU ARE SUCH A POOR TACTLESS MAN!”

“YOU FUCKER!”

Oliver casually waved his hand “All bark and no bite. I’m supposed believe you’ve gotten any better in two months? Last time I checked I won the last competition.”

“OH YEAH?!” The triplets yelled, furious.

Maria threw a suspicious glance Oliver’s way “Girls, I don’t think…”

“Come on Maria, we don’t want to have to tell daddy you backed down from a challenge.”

A shiver ran down her spine, the fight draining out of her face. Oliver felt a tinge of guilt but said nothing as the girls took their positions.

Maria paused for a moment, her breathing slow and calm. The murmur of the crowds grew louder and louder upon the recognition that the ladies nearby were the Melodic Maidens.

Maria pivoted on her heels, a bright warm smile gracing her lips. Oliver could feel his heart skip a beat at the sound of her soft, airy voice beginning to sing

“Oh you hear a lot of stories about the sailors and their sport” Maria gave a playful wink his way. His cheeks burned brightly at her playful banter.

“About how every sailor has a girl in every port”

Maria twirled, her steps mischievous and alluring as her dark blue dress chased after her. She gracefully held two fingers aloft for everything to see, her smirk cocky and assured.

“but if you added two and two you’d figure out right quick”

Maria backed up as the triplets step forward to join her, the group made whole and ready for the chorus.

“It’s just because the girls all have a lad on every ship”

Maria turned to throw a sultry look towards her rival bard but instead of finding a dumbstruck Oliver, she found a smiling one. His gaze was gentle and loving as if he was seeing utterly beautiful. A small smile was tugging at his cheeks. Maria could feel her heart thunder in her ears as, without warning, Oliver gave a thumbs up and mouthed an appreciative “Thanks” before ducking into the growing crowd.

“And it’s twiddley idle idle idle, twiddley idle aye.”

What was once a spattering of folks formed into a massive gathering. Most of the party goers and guards had come over to catch the free show the girls inadvertently given and thus all focus shifted onto them. What was an attempt to show up Oliver ended up being a very unnecessary showcase.

“It’s often times a man will leave you broken with dismay”

Boy was Maria feeling that dismay right now.

-----

Oliver’s plan worked: Stairy hadn’t been to resist the siren call of a beautiful woman and her singing. Luckily the harpies hadn’t ruined it with their imperfect pitches. Stairy hadn’t taken more than a few steps when Sel slipped in behind and began working at the door. It took a moment but one blink later and the automaton vanished out of sight.

Oliver let out a sigh when a hand gripped his shoulder tightly.

“Hello sir.” A guff, low voice in a less than friendly voice “Might I have a word? You’ve been acting rather strange all party long.”

Well fuck.

#Welcome to the Underground #My Story #Original Work #original story

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jokertrap-ran · 4 years ago

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(未定事件簿) EVENT! 「眷然恋影」 [Tears of Themis] EVENT: Zuo Ran Birthday 2021- Days to Re-Live Forever (4.26: Birthday Celebration)

*Tears of Themis Masterlist / Mobile Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Will also be filed under Zuo Ran’s tag #Tears of a Lawyer *The tracking tag for ALL Event Stories will go under: #Tears of an Event

4.18 / 4.20 / 4.22 / 4.24 / 4.26 Messages / Investigations / Call

On the day of Zuo Ran's birthday, I asked sister Zhao Xing for her help beforehand to arrange his schedule so that he got off work right on the dot.

And, using the reasoning of "The volunteers need more hands to finish setting up the set", I invited him to the Film Museum.

I explained what I did as a volunteer along our way there, doing my best to avoid the topic entirely, for fear that he'd pick up on my intent.

Very soon, we found ourselves at the Live-action Studio.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Location: Live Action Studio

Zuo Ran: Is the place that requires help still up ahead?

MC: Yes. Soon. We'll be there soon, just a little more!

I did my best to suppress the nervousness that nagged at me, turning at the curb together with him up ahead before reaching a did. I knew that what laid behind the door was none other than the set that I'd painstakingly decorated.

▷Choice: Push the door open

Tugging at his hand, I took a deep breath and opened the doors.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Location: Set

MC: Happy Birthday, Lawyer Zuo!

I cheered right as we entered.

Zuo Ran: You… This...

All we could see around us were the streets that gave off a foreign vibe, the light shining through the windows comforting and warm.

This was the set I chose— This was where Mary and Tim had their first date after he'd time travelled.

In the film, Mary stood in front of the shop's entrance after dinner, asking if Tim could see her off. This was also where their story had truly begun.

Be it the signboard atop the entrance, the hanging plants, or the colourful street decor, it all made people reminiscent of that one beautiful, destined night.

Zuo Ran: This is the Restaurant on the corner that Tim and Mary had their first date at?

MC: That's right, I knew you'd recognize it at a glance!

Of course, I'd also done a couple of adjustments to the set itself by adding a couple of birthday decor.

For example, the row of lights hanging from the roof, the colourful flags the spelled "Happy Birthday", and the many gifts stacked beside the coffee table.

And hidden among those gifts, was the "Collector's Edition: The World-wide Film Script Collection".

This made Zuo Ran, who'd remained calm and unfazed in the face of all that has happened, express a rare moment of surprise.

Zuo Ran: So, that's why you...

I knew that it was going to be hard to explain everything to him immediately, so I decided to sit him down first.

MC: Okay, okay, I know that you must have a truckload of questions; but first, have a seat and try the desserts and coffee that I made.

MC: I'll slowly tell you about the secrets of this place after that.

Zuo Ran: So, you recreated the scenes in the movie "About Time" because you saw how much I loved it…?

Zuo Ran's expression gradually grew fonder as he heard the reasoning behind how this set came to be.

MC: That's right! Besides, birthdays are meant to bring happiness to the birthday star, so obviously I'll have to choose the movie you love best!

Zuo Ran: Thank you.

He surveyed the surrounding decor, gently stroking the shop window beside him that had been fully decorated with plants.

Zuo Ran: Tim invited Mary away from the boring party, bringing her to this restaurant with a transparent window instead.

Zuo Ran: Here, they had dinner with each other, shared their most heartfelt sentiments, and walked along this path after.

MC: Yes, that's a classic, and very memorable scene!

Zuo Ran: Even the small chef miniature on the storefront looks almost exactly the same. I never thought that you'd manage to recreate even that— To such perfection.

MC: You'll have to thank the Film Museum for those. They were the ones who made replicas of the original; all I did was to exchange for them with the points I earned.

MC: Oh yes, I've got another special gift for you apart from all of these. That was one of the main reasons why I'd decided to become a volunteer in the first place.

I handed him a small booklet.

MC: This is what the guests of the Film Festival have said about "Robin".

After obtaining permission from the Film Museum, I picked out all the answers pertaining to Robin from the survey and bound it into a small booklet as a special gift for Zuo Ran.

And now, I was eagerly anticipating his reaction to this gift.

Zuo Ran: ……

He tensed a little at the mention of "Robin".

Zuo Ran: "Robin"? Why are you giving this to me?

MC: Well… I felt that "Robin" was different from the other Film Critics out on the net that you'd probably find a little distasteful.

MC: His reviews all give off a vibe similar to your own. So, I think you're… Probably acquainted with him?

Zuo Ran: So you're saying that you really like this guy?

MC: Yeah. I've reread all of his reviews a good many times now. The only unfortunate thing is that he never did share anything about his person, and neither did he leave any contact details.

MC: And even though the organizer wants to invite him for the closing ceremony if the Film Festival, they have no choice but to attempt contacting him through online means. Otherwise, I'd really have wanted to know his true identity.

I scrutinized his expression, trying to find any tells that he might show when trying to debunk my guess about his other identity. But who would have thought...

Zuo Ran: ... I'm Robin.

He'd admitted to it, unwavering, driving his point straight home.

MC: So.. Does this mean that you admit to it?

Zuo Ran: And I'm presuming from your reaction that you've already long since guessed it?

MC: Yeah, I did.

Zuo Ran: Sorry, I should have told you earlier.

MC: I probably guessed it back when I saw the picture of the shadow puppet that you sent out.

MC: And then, I slowly came to realize that you and Robin happened to coincide more and more frequently, so much that the answer to it all was pretty much already set in stone.

MC: This present is the reason why I specially added questions about Robin into the questionnaire, and also because I wanted to know a little more about you.

Zuo Ran: You're the first person...

Perhaps it was the trick of the light, but Zuo Ran's face had a faint red tint to it.

Zuo Ran: You're the first person to have gone through so much trouble for me. This present gives me innumerable joy.

MC: Yeah, I'm glad you like it...

His eyes appeared soft beyond words, unconsciously sucking me into it's enchanting depths.

Zuo Ran: It was never my intention to hide it from you, but I'd rather my Film Reviews to be just that; a pure and unhindered exchange of personal opinion.

Zuo Ran: And that might be harder to achieve if my real identity becomes associated with my identity as Robin.

Zuo Ran: ...I've always thought that I managed to keep it well under wraps since I've never let anything slip with my real life, and neither did I post any personal info.

Zuo Ran: Even acquaintances. It’s hard to find even a single connection between any of us even if you tried.

Zuo Ran: I never thought that you seriously re-read everything I wrote over and over again that many times...

MC: I just...

Zuo Ran: I suppose that’s why you’re probably the only person who’s capable of finding out my other identity.

MC: Don’t worry, Lawyer Zuo. I won’t tell anyone about your identity as Robin. Just treat it as our little secret, okay?

Zuo Ran: Okay. Our little secret.

Suddenly, he gently held my hand.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Zuo Ran: Thank you for preparing so much for me, for my birthday.

Zuo Ran: Recreating a movie, preparing presents, carefully planning everything up till today… I really like this surprise of yours.

Zuo Ran: It is only thanks to you that I truly know now, what “Every moment in life brings innumerable joys” really means.

Zuo Ran: “Every day of our life is a journey in time. All we can do is to do the best we can to cherish this beautiful and wondrous journey of ours.”

That was the same exact line of the movie that he’d just murmured ever so softly.

MC: Isn’t that Tim’s final monologue on “About Time”?

Zuo Ran: Oh? You still remember it? He finally had an epiphany, realizing the value of an ordinary life after his countless journeys through time and space.

MC: I remember. He finally understood that time-travel was not the most important thing in the world; but what was most important, was for him to cherish everything he currently had,

Zuo Ran: That’s right. Even if living life like this will give birth to some regrets.

Zuo Ran: I watch this movie several times a year; and every time, I’ll get a new experience through these lines.

Zuo Ran: I too, once longed to Time-travel just like the hero; to change the past that could no longer be turned back in time.

Zuo Ran: But I don't think so anymore. Especially ever since I met you.

His ears were slightly red, but the sound of his voice that had reached my ears were firm and as clear as the day. I felt my cheeks warm.

MC: ……

Zuo Ran and I both immersed ourselves in the scene of the foreign street that we were in for a while. The night waxed, the colourful lights shining bright.

And he'dheld onto my hand throughout it all; across the stars and till the end of time.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Location: Home

After the Film Festival had ended, the popular and renowned Film Critic among the masses, named "Robin", turned down the interview for the column and ended up not showing for the closing ceremony.

But he'd still heeded the organizer's request, releasing a long article to express his thoughts about the Film Festival and its many different movies.

I carefully read through this article; and unsurprisingly, I spotted a particular line.

"Every moment in life brings innumerable joys."

So, "All we can do is to do the best we can to cherish this beautiful and wondrous journey of ours.”

MC: (Yeah, I'll do my best to cherish what I have now too.)

My eyes lingered on this line for a long while, my lips curling into a knowing smile.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Previous Part: (4.24: Exchanging Movie Reviews)

#Tears of Themis #Zuo Ran #左然 #Translations #Otome #Mihoyo #未定事件簿 #眷然恋影 #Days to ReLive forever #Zuo Ran 2021 Birthday #Tears of a Lawyer #Tears of an Event #weiding shijian bu #tears of themis translations

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swanlake1998 · 3 years ago

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Article: Five Pioneering Black Ballerinas: ‘We Have to Have a Voice’

Date: June 17, 2021

By: Karen Valby

These early Dance Theater of Harlem stars met weekly on Zoom — to survive the isolation of the pandemic and to reclaim their role in dance history.

Last May, adrift in a suddenly untethered world, five former ballerinas came together to form the 152nd Street Black Ballet Legacy. Every Tuesday afternoon, they logged onto Zoom from around the country to remember their time together performing with Dance Theater of Harlem, feeling that magical turn in early audiences from skepticism to awe.

Life as a pioneer, life in a pandemic: They have been friends for over half a century, and have held each other up through far harder times than this last disorienting year. When people reached for all manners of comfort, something to give purpose or a shape to the days, these five women turned to their shared past.

In their cozy, rambling weekly Zoom meetings, punctuated by peals of laughter and occasional tears, they revisited the fabulousness of their former lives. With the background of George Floyd’s murder and a pandemic disproportionately affecting the Black community, the women set their sights on tackling another injustice. They wanted to reinscribe the struggles and feats of those early years at Dance Theater of Harlem into a cultural narrative that seems so often to cast Black excellence aside.

“There’s been so much of African American history that’s been denied or pushed to the back,” said Karlya Shelton-Benjamin, 64, who first brought the idea of a legacy council to the other women. “We have to have a voice.”

They knew as young ballet students that they’d never be chosen for roles like Clara in “The Nutcracker” or Odette/Odile in “Swan Lake.” They were told by their teachers to switch to modern dance or to aim for the Alvin Ailey company if they wanted to dance professionally, regardless of whether they felt most alive en pointe.

Arthur Mitchell was like a lighthouse to the women. Mitchell, the first Black principal dancer at the New York City Ballet and a protégé of the choreographer George Balanchine, had a mission: to create a home for Black dancers to achieve heights of excellence unencumbered by ignorance or tradition. Ignited by the assassination of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., he founded Dance Theater of Harlem in 1969 with Karel Shook.

Lydia Abarca-Mitchell, Gayle McKinney-Griffith and Sheila Rohan were founding dancers of his new company with McKinney-Griffith, 71, soon taking on the role of its first ballet mistress. Within the decade, Shelton-Benjamin and Marcia Sells joined as first generation dancers.

Abarca-Mitchell, 70, spent her childhood in joyless ballet classes but never saw an actual performance until she was 17 at the invitation of Mitchell, her new teacher. “I’ll never forget what Arthur did onstage” she said of his Puck in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” at New York City Ballet during a Tuesday session in January. “He made the ballet so natural. Suddenly it wasn’t just this ethereal thing anymore. I felt it in my bones.”

Marcia Sells, 61, remembered being 9 and watching with mouth agape when Abarca-Mitchell, McKinney-Griffith and Rohan performed with Dance Theater in her hometown, Cincinnati. “There in front of me were Black ballerinas,” Sells said during a video call in April. “That moment was the difference in my life. Otherwise I don’t think it would’ve been possible for me to think of a career in ballet.”

Shelton-Benjamin left her Denver ballet company, where she was the only Black dancer, turning down invitations from the Joffrey Ballet and American Ballet Theater, after reading a story about Dance Theater of Harlem in Dance magazine. Abarca-Mitchell was on that issue’s cover — the first Black woman to have that honor. At her Harlem audition, Shelton-Benjamin witnessed company members hand-dying their shoes and ribbons and tights to match the hues of their skin. Here, no traditional ballet pink would interrupt the beauty of their lines. “I had never seen a Black ballerina before, let alone a whole company,” Shelton-Benjamin, 64, said during a February Zoom meeting. “All I could think was, ‘Where have you guys been?’”

Finding one another back then, at the height of the civil rights movement, allowed them to have careers while challenging a ballet culture that had been claimed by white people. “We were suddenly ambassadors,” Abarca-Mitchell said. “And we were all in it together.”

They traveled to American cities that presented such a hostile environment that Mitchell would cancel the performance the night of, lest his company feel disrespected. But they also danced for kings and queens and presidents. In 1979, a review in The Washington Post declared their dancing to be a “purer realization of the Balanchinean ideal than anyone else’s.” Their adventures offstage were similarly electric, like the night in Manchester when Mick Jagger invited them out on the town. “We walked into the club with him and everybody just moved out of the way,” Shelton-Benjamin said.

Cultural memory can be spurious and shortsighted. Abarca-Mitchell was the first Black prima ballerina for a major company, performing works like Balanchine’s “Agon” and “Bugaku” and William Dollar’s “Le Combat” to raves. In an April Zoom session she said she first realized how left out of history she was when her daughter went online to prove to a friend that her mother was the first Black prima ballerina. But all she found was the name Misty Copeland, hailed as the first. “And my daughter was so mad. She said: ‘Where’s your name? Where’s your name?’ It was a wake-up call.”

While Abarca-Mitchell paused to wipe her eyes, Shelton-Banjamin stepped in: “I want to echo what Lydia said. There was a point where I asked the women, ‘Did it all really happen? Was I really a principal dancer?’ And Lydia told me: ‘Don’t do that! Yes, you were. We’re here to tell you, you were.”

Sells went on to a career that included serving as the dean of Harvard Law School, until she left this year to become the Metropolitan Opera’s first chief diversity officer. Shelton-Benjamin is now a jeweler who recently became certified in diamond grading. She, along with Abarca-Mitchell, McKinney-Griffith and Rohan, continue to coach and teach dance. They all have families, including another grandchild on the way for McKinney-Griffith, who announced the happy news to whoops on a recent call.

But they are done swallowing a mythology of firstness that excludes them, along with fellow pioneers like Katherine Dunham, Debra Austin, Raven Wilkinson, Lauren Anderson and Aesha Ash. It’s true that Misty Copeland is American Ballet Theater’s first Black female principal. It is also true that she stands on the shoulders of the founding and first generation dancers at Dance Theater. A narrative that suggests otherwise, Sells said, “Simply makes ballet history weak and small.”

Worse, it perpetuates the belief that Blackness in ballet is a one-off rather than a continuing fact. And it suggests a lonely existence for dancers like Copeland, a world absent of peers. “We could’ve been Misty’s aunties,” Abarca-Mitchell said. “I wish she was part of our sisterhood, that’s all.”

Dance Theater saved them from being the only one in a room. The work was so hard, the expectations so high, the mission so urgent, that those early days demanded a familial support system among the dancers. “Someone would take you under their wing and say, ‘You’re my daughter or sister or brother,’” McKinney-Griffith said. “The men did it also. Karlya was my little sister, and we kept that through the years.”

Like in any family, the relationships are complicated. The women speak of feeling shut out of today’s Dance Theater of Harlem. They are rarely brought in for workshops or consultations on the ballets they were taught by Mitchell. At his memorial service in 2018, they wept in the pews unacknowledged. “We’re like orphans,” Rohan said with a laugh in a Zoom session. “If the outside world neglects us, it seems all the more reason that Dance Theater of Harlem should embrace us.”

Virginia Johnson, a fellow founding member, is now the company’s artistic director. She assumed the helm in 2013 when Dance Theater returned after an eight-year hiatus caused by financial instability. “It makes me sad to think that they feel excluded,” Johnson said in a phone interview. “And it’s not because I don’t want them. It’s just because I can’t manage. I’ve probably missed some chances but it’s not like I haven’t thought about the value of what they bring to the company. They are the bodies, the soul, the spirit of Dance Theater of Harlem.”

“We all think about and love and respect what Arthur Mitchell did,” she added, “but these are the people he worked with to make this company.”

By the end of May, the five members of the 152nd Street Black Ballet Legacy were fully vaccinated. They traveled from Denver, Atlanta, Connecticut, South Jersey and, in Sells’s case, five blocks north of Dance Theater of Harlem for a joyful reunion. So much is different now at the building on 152nd Street. The old fire escape in Studio 3 where they’d catch their breath or wipe tears of frustration is gone. So are the big industrial fans in the corners of the room, replaced by central air conditioning. But they can still feel their leader all around them in the room. Crying, Abarca-Mitchell told McKinney-Griffith, “I miss Arthur.” (Though they all laugh when imagining his response to their legacy council. “I do believe he would try to control us,” Rohan said. “’What are you doing now? Why are you doing that? Let me suggest that. …’”)

The body remembers. In Studio 3, all Shelton-Benjamin had to do was hum a few notes of Balanchine’s “Serenade” and say “and” for the women to grandly sweep their right arms up. “These women help validate my worth,” Abarca-Mitchell said afterward. “I don’t want to take it for granted that people should recognize Lydia Abarca. But when I’m with them I feel like I felt back then. Important.”

Even as the world reopens and they grow busy again, they’ll carry on with their Tuesday afternoons. They want to amplify more alumni voices. They dream of launching a scholarship program for young dancers of color. This fall, they’ll host a webinar in honor of the director and choreographer Billy Wilson, whose daughter Alexis was also part of Dance Theater.

“What we have is a spiritual connection,” said Rohan, who turns 80 this year. She was 27 when she joined the company, already married and hiding from Mitchell that she was a mother of three young children for fear it get her kicked out. When she eventually confessed a year later, he got mad, insisting he would have increased her salary if he’d known she had mouths to feed.

“Arthur planted a seed in me, and all these beautiful women helped it grow,” she said. “Coming from Staten Island, I was just a country girl from the projects. My first time on a plane was to go to Europe to dance on those stages. I thanked God every day for the experience. This year, coming together again, I remembered how much it all meant to me. I didn’t have to be a star ballerina. It was enough that I was there. I was there. I was there.”

#article #ballet #the ny times #marcia sells #sheila rohan #gayle mckinney griffith #karlya shelton-benjamin #lydia abarca #virginia johnson

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aperrywilliams · 4 years ago

Text

The Resident Genius (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif!)

Masterlist

———————

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader x BAU

Summary: Reader joins Spencer in his last day in the BAU.

Word Count: 3497.

Warnings: None. Melancholy? Could be a category for this.

A/N: Today is Monday. I don’t want to work. I’m thinking in retirement. That’s all.

——————–

“Are you ok?” (Y/N) asked me squeezing lightly my arm while the elevator lifted us to the 6th floor.

“Yeah. A little bit nervous, but I’m fine,” I replied giving her a little smile. She took my hand intertwining our fingers. “Thank you” I muttered.

“Why is that?” she asked smiling.

“You didn’t need to be here right now. You haven't come here for a while”. I shrugged.

“I didn’t let you do this alone. You did the same with me some years ago. I’m your wife, remember?”

“I remind it every day I wake up next to you. And I realize me how lucky I have been all this years for that” I told her with a smile.

“You have become cheesy over the years, you know?,” affirmed (Y/N) giggling.

“And you love that, don’t you?,” I pointed out.

“Yes, my cheesy and loved Dr. Reid,” whispered (Y/N) kissing my cheek.

“I love you”

“I love you too, baby” she replied.

The elevator doors opened and we walked to the glass doors of the bullpen. Opening them made the environment feel like any other day at work. Agents moving from one desk to another, from one office to another. Some reviewing files, others making phone calls, others discussing an ongoing case. My routine for the last 40 years.

With (Y/N) we go up the stairs to the offices sector, coming at the door of my office. Oh yeah, Dr. Spencer Reid finally managed to have an office for himself when he completed 30 years of service at the BAU.

It wasn't a big deal to me either. I was used to my desk. The desk which witnessed so many conversations with my team mates. Where I could perform my magic tricks by experimenting with the laws of chemistry and physics, where I spent hours and hours reading reports. The same desk that housed hundreds of coffee mugs on it. Desk from where I could peek at (Y/N) without her noticing. The same desk that witnessed our sneaky kisses with (Y/N) when everyone had already gone home and we were the only ones working in the bullpen. Desk where I knelt to ask her to marry me. The same desk where I was sitting when (Y/N) told me she was pregnant the first time.

"Are you going to step inside?". (Y/N) asked when she saw I stood in front of the door without opening it.

"Yes. Sure. I got distracted. Sorry". After I put a feet on the office, the first thing I saw were empty boxes ready to be filled with my things. Which were not few. It was enough to see the shelf full of books, some of which I had from my first years at the BAU.

“I think these boxes won’t be enough. I had forgotten how many books you had in the office” (Y/N) commented laughing.

"And we still haven't discussed where I'll put them at home..." I stated clearing my throat.

“Now I think is good Emily doesn't live with us anymore. You could use that room for a 'new' library,” (Y/N) suggested.

"It’s possible. Although Abby surely wanted to take that room for her...".

"I'm sure you can reach an agreement" (Y/N) replied giving me a kiss in my forehead.

“Yeah, I think we will”

“Okay, start packing. I'll make you a coffee in the meantime" she said starting to move to the coffee machine placed in one of the shelves.

"You are the best, you know?". I answered, taking her by the waist, bringing her close to my body and lifting her chin to look at those eyes that keep driving me crazy as if it were the first day I met her.

"I know. But… are you going to stare at me forever or will you dare to kiss me?". We both started laughing. That verbatim phrase left her lips for the first time after our first date. I leaned down to meet her lips with mine. Almost 30 years of marriage and kissing (Y/N) still makes me erupt butterflies from my stomach. The power of this woman over me is indescribable.

Our kiss was disrupted when someone opened the office door.

"Dr. Spencer Reid on his last day of work. I thought I was going to see him busily packing his books and not in a make-out session with his wife."

"Wow, I didn't expect my boss to find me this way". I commented laughing.

Jack Hotchner had become the BAU’s Unit Chief 5 years ago, following in his father's path. Easier to smile than Aaron, Jack maintained the same rigor leading the BAU, proving to be a natural leader. Respected and loved by his colleagues, no one questioned his rules, not even the impulsive Hank Morgan, who joined the BAU 3 years ago.

“I think you will need help Reid. I doubt you can finish packing by yourself before lunch” Jack affirmed.

"Hey, maybe I’m old and never have been very athletic, but at least I can take care of my books" I protested.

"If you say so Reid... if you say so..." said Jack teasing me.

“I would help him. But I know him and I know that just touching one of his relics he will go crazy. So I just make the coffee and thus avoid problems" stated (Y/N) laughing.

“You know him better than anyone (Y/L/N). When you left the BAU a few years ago, Dr. Reid became a grouch in the office because no one else understood his ways,” said Jack.

"Could you at least consider me here when you talk about me?" I protested again as Jack and (Y/N) laughed.

“I'd better leave you, so Dr. Reid can start his task. I'll be back for you at lunch,” Jack declared.

"Jack... is it necessary?... I mean, I can say goodbye to each one of you here... it’s not necessary to have a large lunch meeting with everyone..."

“I won't hear complaints about that now Reid. I'll be back for you at lunch time,” said Jack before closing the door.

"The boss has spoken" (Y/N) recited looking at me and shrugging.

"You know that I don't like these activities with so many people... and even less if I have to give a speech..."

“Spencer… baby, I know. But they are your colleagues, several of them children of your best friends. They have known you for years. You are even godfather to some of them. The least they want to do is say goodbye to you in this job that has been your life for almost 40 years”.

(Y/N) was right. A lifetime at the BAU. Just thinking about it I felt tears well up in my eyes. I knew it was the natural passage of time, but I didn't know yet if I was ready to leave this life behind.

"I know. It's just… thinking I won't be working in this place again makes me anxious. What am I going to do now (Y/N)? "

"Isn't it Dr. Spencer Reid, who is always enthusiastic about knowledge and new things, who asks me that?" (Y/N) teased me.

"Don't make fun of me (Y/N), you know I don't have the same energy as before..."

"Maybe not. But I know you. That brain of yours will handle it. Besides, I think you owe me some nights where we can go to bed early and many mornings to stay in bed until after noon, don't you think?”

"Yes. It’s true" I replied with a smirk.

“Spencer, you have to take things in a different perspective. And to enjoy what you have achieved in this years of full effort. For example, seeing your children doing what make them happy. Learning from his father”.

"Stop right there (Y/N)... I don't want to cry... yet, please." (Y/N) grinned and pulled me into a tight hug.

“For many years you were the resident genius of this place. It’s time you leave that place to new resident geniuses”, she sentenced, sealing her words with a kiss on my cheek.

We start packing. Indeed the boxes weren’t enough. (Y/N) had to go get some more from the basement. The few pictures on the wall were also packed up. As well as the photographs that were on my desk: one of my mother, another of (Y/N) with me on our wedding day, another of Emily, Theo and Abby, my children. One last from the BAU team with Hotch, Rossi, Prentiss, Morgan and JJ.

The morning went quickly. It was a little after 1:00 p.m. when Jack got back to the office.

“I see you are almost ready. The remained things we can take it later. We can ask some of the boys for help,” said Jack, looking around the almost empty office.

“I think that help will needed to load the car. I didn't think it would be so many boxes after all” I complained.

"No problem. Now come on, it's time for lunch”.

Leaving the office and walking down the hall to the conference room, one last time, was more difficult than I thought. (Y/N) noticed it immediately and took my hand, squeezing it gently to encourage me. I looked at her and when she saw my anxiety she approached my ear and whispered 'I'm so proud of you Spencer, I love you so much. We are in this together, don't forget it.' I nodded, gulped, squeezed her hand, and I continued walking.

Stepping inside the room, my surprise was greater than I expected. Not only did I see my colleagues, in fact, I saw the children of my friends, my godchildren, some of my friends and my own children. Everyone lining up to give me a hug.

The first was SSA Hank Spencer Morgan:

“Uncle Spencer, we're going to miss you here. You have been a great example for everyone”.

"Thanks Hank. I’m leaving comfortable knowing you are here and knowing you’re a great contribution to this team”.

Then it was his father's turn, Derek Morgan:

“My man! At last you are leaving this place. I didn't think you were going to last so many years. I thought I was going to die and you would still be rambling at the BAU. Come on!. It's time to enjoy life with (Y/N). Start thinking about a second honeymoon" he sentenced, elbowing me in the ribs.

"Completely considered" I replied laughing and giving him a squeeze on the shoulder.

Then it was SSA Michael LaMontagne's turn: “Uncle Spence, it was an honor to have worked with you at the BAU. I have learned a lot from you in life, not only here. We’ll continue to see each other for sure”.

“Of course we do, Michael. I'm sure you’ll continue to do an excellent job here. I have no doubt about it”.

Behind Michael was Henry LaMontagne. The first baby I held in my arms– almost panicking: “Uncle Spencer. The BAU owes you a lot. I am proud to be your godson and thankfully for you to be part of our life. Much success in this new stage of your life”.

"If the BAU owes me, I also owe the BAU, so I think we are at hand." I replied.

By now tears were falling from my eyes. A motherly smile spread to the next person in line: JJ. She came over and I buried my face in her shoulder.

"Hey, you should be happy. You will stop drinking this horrible coffee" she said while hugging me. "Spence. We both know that this place became an important part of our lives. But you have to let it go. We deserve it".

"I know. I'll just have to get used to the idea. You know, no longer bad sleeping habits, decent food, those things… I don’t know if I’m ready for that”. I replied wiping my tears with my fingers.

SSA Chloe Simmons was next to hug me:

"Dr. Reid, really thank you very much for all the teachings you have given us over the years. My dad always spoke with great appreciation of you. I'm sure he would have loved to be here now”.

“Thanks Chloe, Matt was a great man. Very smart and much more athletic and stocky than me, of course. Surely he must be happy that you have decided to join the BAU”.

Who was next in line? Former BAU chief and now former FBI director Emily Prentiss:

“Finally Spencer!, just like Morgan, I thought I would disappear from this world and you would still be working at the BAU. Come here my favorite genius”, Prentiss said while she pulled me into a hug that could have left me breathless. It’s true Prentiss no longer had the same youthful strength as before, but she would always be a tough girl. I reciprocated the hug as strongly as possible.

“Sooner or later it had to happen. I hope you have already forgiven me for how badly I treated you the first months of your arrival". I said laughing.

"You fool. Your memory is clearly better than mine. I already forgot” she replied laughing too.

Then it was Jack Hotchner's turn:

“Thank you very much Spencer for everything. For all the years you spent at the BAU. This place owes you a lot and there is nothing we can do to even make up for even a part of your dedication here."

"Thanks Jack. I can only say that Aaron would be tremendously proud to see you in the man you have become."

At the end of the line were my children. The first to hug me was Emily, now SSA Dr. Emily Reid:

"Dad. I'm so proud of you. I just wanted to thank you because despite this job and how demanding it is, you managed to be with us in our childhood and growth. You’ll always be an example for us and I only hope to live up to what you have been for the BAU”.

"My little pumpkin. Now you are Dr. Reid of the BAU. Have no doubt you’ll do an excellent job here. Better than mine even, because you have your mother's DNA and teachings. I'm proud of you. I love you so much. I wish you the best for the future. You deserve it". The hug we gave each other could have been eternal. My little one, my daughter, the first fruit of my love with (Y/N).

Then came Theo. My little man. The image of (Y/N). The same kindness, the same audacity, the same dedication to others. Not for nothing did he become a primary school teacher. His vocation fills me with delight and seeing him happy is my greatest happiness.

"Dad, congratulations! You managed to overcome the adversities of life and you have reached this point where now you can see everything you have achieved. You can be with mom and enjoy this new time with her. I have always admired the love you have for each other. Patience and dedication towards each other. Thank you for showing us that and teaching us to be better persons, both through the good and the bad”.

“Thank you Theo. My little man. You know you’ll always be our little one, right? With your mother we love you very much and we are happy to see the person you have become”. We both embraced and when we parted I kissed his forehead, just like I did when he was a child.

Abby came later. Without saying anything, she hung around my neck, burying her head on my chest. She was crying. I couldn't help it either and started crying too.

"I'm sorry dad. I didn't want to cry because I knew it would make you cry too. But they are tears of joy, to see everyone in this room loves and appreciates you. You’re the best in the world dad, even if you are a nerd and sometimes you are more strict than mom”. We both started laughing.

“Thank you my little baby. It makes me so happy to have you still with me. To see how you grow up every day and find your own way. Sorry if I'm a little more strict than mom sometimes. I'll try to relax a bit, I promise." Abby squeezed me hard and before releasing me she gave me a kiss on the cheek.

As if all the tears I had shed up to that moment and the lump in my throat from the emotions of the moment were not enough, I had to give a speech. At least say something. (Y/N) came to my side and took my hand. She knew perfectly well this was the part that made me nervous, even at my age. They were all silently looking at me. I cleared my throat and started to speak.

"I must start by saying that with all the hugs that I gave today, I’m ready with the hugs that I had not given in these 40 years...".

Collective laughter. Of course, we were talking about Dr. Spencer Reid, the man averse to displays of affection who appreciated them over the years and only reserved them for the most important people in his life.

"Having said that. And knowing that you expect a speech in the least eloquent from me, I must be sincere and confess that everything I say in from now may make very little logical sense in some parts, because it responds rather to the most emotional and chaotic part of my person. Part that (Y/N) knows well and who I know is chuckling without even looking at her…"

I could hear the giggles of (Y/N).

“Am I rambling already? I'm sure you expected no less from me. As well. I'm not going to tell you the story of how I got to the BAU because you already know that. Nor am I going to tell you how each one of these 40 years working here was, because almost half of you also know it and the other half are living it right now..."

Again, collective laughter.

“Apparently with age I managed to find my comical side, because when I was young nobody laughed at my jokes. I don't blame you either, they were nerdy jokes, I wouldn't have laughed in your place either. Anyway. I don't want to diverge from the main issue..."

Silence. Full attention to me. To my words. It was like a conference, but the most important of my life.

“I want to thank each of you for being here today. I'm sure you had more important things to do today. Even my wife, whom I had to bribe to help me pack my office stuff. No, seriously. Thank you very much. Today is a weird day. I’m happy to see all of you, but I’m also sad because I have to leave and I’ll no longer work at the BAU anymore...

This place saw me grow up. Here I made mistakes, here I could made a difference too. Here I fell in love with a great woman. Here I made great friends. Here I started a family…

I just want to tell you that this place has been full of excellent people, not only good professionals, but good people, with a good heart, committed to the objective of this work, although sometimes the personal costs have been higher…

I think it's fair to mention them now, because I had the honor of meeting them and working with them. Everyone made me part of their life and so they are part of mine: Jason Guideon, David Rossi, Aaron Hotchner, Penelope García, Elle Greenaway, Jordan Todd, Jennifer Jareau, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), Ashley Seaver, Alex Blake, Kate Callahan, Luke Alvez, Tara Lewis, Matt Simmons, Stephen Walker… I could go on. There are so many people. There are so many stories..."

I couldn't stop my tears. The rest of the audience either. It was a chorus of sobs, some more muffled, others more expressive. I had to stop for a moment. I took a deep breath and composed myself again. (Y/N) wrapped her arms around my torso, resting her head on my back. I could feel her tears running through my shirt.

“Well, I don't want this to be a sad moment. I want to leave this place thinking I tried to do things right. That I did all I could to be a contribution to this team. Now, as (Y/N) told me a few hours ago, it's time for the new resident geniuses. The BAU stays in you, this great family continues with you. You must work together, support each other, grow up, make mistakes, learn from your faults, listen to each other. You must be a team. I will always miss you guys, and if you ever need an old nerd who likes to ramble and talk about everything, who knows strange things and a lot of statistics, you know where to find me”.

———————

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #BAU #criminal minds #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #normalize melancholy tag

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grimoire-of-geekery · 4 years ago

Text

Detect Magic: the Sixth World Tarot by Echo Chernik

(pictured here- the deluxe edition [left] and the Arcanist edition of the Sixth World Tarot by Echo Chernik)

Y'know, it's been a long time since I did one of these, but here goes. It's time for another Detect Magic review. I haven't put the Dork Magician hat on for a while, so let's give this a whirl!

Today we're taking a look at the Sixth World Tarot, by Echo and Lazarus Chernik. She has this available on her website (click the above link), which come signed by the artist and the author. I'm a bit bummed, I bought a copy of this deck juuuuust before she started signing them. Not her fault, but still. XD

For those of you unfamiliar with Shadowrun, it's a cyberpunk dystopian magic-and-mech RPG setting and fantasy novel universe which originated in the late 80's. The premise is that magic is growing stronger, the world experienced a big Awakening in the early 2000's, right around the same time that corporations managed to gain extraterritoriality. So, you have dragons running huge megacorps, which basically enslave people to be lifelong wageslaves from birth (or as soon as they can get their hands on a desired talent), immersive VR Matrix hackers, cyberware enhanced fighters and magic practitioners acting as "deniable assets" to said corps for all sorts of shady business.

Hence the name "Shadowrun."

This setting, one of my absolute favorite settings out there, has had the misfortune of developing a sort of eerie prophetic element akin to the Simpsons and its bizarre track record of prediction of ludicrous world events. Shadowrun was intended to be a cautionary tale, not an oracular one. That being said, that does make a tarot based on Shadowrun more than a little on-the-nose for predictive purposes. After all, they're telling the future without even trying. Wait until they actually put some effort into it...

All right, time to Detect Magic!

Accessory- Crit (4 out of 4) Stunning artwork, evocative imagery... this deck is gorgeous. It's so beautiful, and so intricate and well made, that people who don't even read tarot (or even particularly like tarot) buy several copies for their geeky collections, and even people who don't particularly care about Shadowrun have dropped their jaw when I showed the deck to them.

A bit busier than I'm used to working with (not the art, but the extras which I'll explain later), I was pleasantly surprised at how much I loved the cards when I first got them. The box for both editions I own are a nice durable gloss with a magnetic foldover closure, there's a ribbon inside each to help pull the cards and book out of the box, and the decorative artwork is gorgeous and fitting with the setting. Definitely aesthetically pleasing enough to take places, and durable enough to resist scuffing or tearing for on-the-go divination and gaming use.

Tome- Crit (4 out of 4) So, the Tome section of this review is supposed to be about how well the cards help one in the pursuit of learning magic and practicing geekomancy. And... really, I don't think I've found a deck (or any artifact of fandom) quite as good as this.

Let me explain.

Tarot, in the sorcery practice I teach, are already basically a pictorial grimoire, describing life in a way that allows us to learn the hidden movements, mysteries, and forces at play in our world. Art is good for things like that in general. It helps you see the world through a special lens, one which allows you to see things you might have missed.

The thing is, the lens of this deck is the Shadowrun continuity, which as I said earlier, has proven to be more than a little prophetic, and alarmingly so.

The magic system of Shadowrun is pretty adjacent to our own. Life force lines, spiritual power sites, astral projection and spirits and magical "energy" forms, initiatory mysteries... it's all pretty much the same as our own reality, just juiced up a bit, with some extra game elements added (don't even ask me about insect spirits).

This makes the deck particularly helpful if one wishes to learn magic in any of the myriad ways described in Shadowrun (and they're particularly respectful and diverse and true-to-life in their tradition descriptions).

BUT, it also has an entire lore-book called the Book of the Lost associated with it, which explains all these little secret sigils and images and easter eggs stored throughout the deck, which can be used for gamebuilding and storytelling, but are designed to be arcane indicators and omens, among other things. And the kinds of symbols they use range from sentences or mottos in dead languages, all the way to waveform patterns and dot-matrix maps. I swear, if you're one of those people who like puzzles and cryptography, this deck is even more fun than the Hermetic Tarot.

In summary, while you'll have to get some Shadowrun sourcebooks to really get deep into the canon lore, there's so much of it that the cards really show you on their own that I don't consider this a setback at all. Feel free to deep-dive with this deck, you'll learn a TON about magic if you let it guide you.

Relic- Success (3 out of 4) If you read the Book of the Lost, or Unearthed Arcana, or any of the 5th edition Shadowrun magic sourcebooks, you'll see that "tarot magic" is an up and coming thing in their canon. Each text helps you see how practitioners use the cards in-game for spellcasting, ritual magic, initiation practices and spirit summoning. The Tarot are already really valuable as central objects of importance to certain kinds of magical practice. This particular deck is designed to be so handy a central object that there's an entire book dedicated to it.

Weapon- Success (3 out of 4) The only reason I'm rating this a success instead of a crit is because they don't provide enough spreads in the various associated books for one to immediately begin casting spells with them, which means you'll have to do some designing. They do have a couple solid unique spreads for basic divination though.

The deck's canon in-game suggests ritual practices like gathering and doing a ritual with sets of related cards, and one such ritual was easily adapted in my own practice, into the Lucky Kimono spread I designed (which people can read about on my Patreon at the higher tiers). So, even without outright including spell-spreads, they sort of gave us clues anyway.

Again, you're going to need the sourcebooks, but it's only a few of them, and they're well worth a read even if you're not planning on playing the game (and I don't play in the actual Shadowrun mechanical system, though I do like the sourcebooks for campaign setting ideas).

Overall Rating: Critical Success (14 out of 16)

Achievement Unlocked: Novahot Echo's artwork is already legendary in the dork realms of geekomancy. She's done work for Dungeons and Dragons, Mage: the Ascension, House of Night... she's even working on a Fate: the Winx Saga playing card deck right now. Her art-nouveau delicacy combined with the powerful non-pandering way she draws women means that her paintings pack a punch!

That being said, it's rare that we see professional artists create a tarot deck of this magnitude as a gaming accessory. Most tarot decks of this caliber are found in professional occult catalogues or as independent projects by artists just wanting to flex their skills for their own reasons. To have a deck like this, clearly a labor of love by all involved, as a major element of gameplay within a franchise is really very special. And something this diverse, deep, and absolutely saturated with layers of ciphers and riddles... it's a geekomancer's dream come true.

Level Up: 2 Levels I think the only way anyone's going to be able to top this deck is if they manage to design a tarot deck that's also a fully immersive VR video game AND an AR game and divination tool useable with one's iPhone or Android. Legit, Echo and Lazarus left everyone in the dust. I haven't been this excited about Shadowrun since Shadowrun Returns first came out, and I got a set of dogtags that had a USB drive with the game on it.

It's just... crazy cool.

Full disclosure, I've had the deluxe edition of these cards for a while now, so I've basically been low-key squeeing about this deck since I first heard about it in 2018, even before I got it. I've been utterly astonished that people weren't more excited about them, and I wasn't hearing about them everywhere.

Before this, I created my own Shadowrun tarot method using the Universal Transparent Tarot (cuz, y'know, plastic and see-through and weird little mosaic readings all in one place, seemed fitting to me), and when I got the Sixth World Tarot? I don't think I've opened the UTT since!

Anyway, this is my review of this deck! Go follow the link up at the top of this post, and buy yourself one! And hey, let me know if you figure out the cool little map trick. My jaw literally dropped when I was shown that!

#detectmagicreview #shadowrun #sixth world tarot

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927roses-and-stuff · 4 years ago

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Miracles in Gotham: Chapter 4: Unwelcome Discoveries (Part 2)

Hey, guys! This fic is inspired by @ozmav’s Maribat AU. Shoutout to @mystery-5-5 for brainstorming ideas with me for this fic.

Woah, updating twice within the same week? It’s like I finally learned how to manage my time!... Not. Honestly this is my stress relief right now because I have two papers due tomorrow and those subjects are not as much fun to write about. On another note, I just finished my midterm and passed! So, yay! Anyways, hope you guys enjoy and have a little bit of luck come your way too.

Btw, after you’re reading this can you guys please tell me if I’m writing too much angst after reading through this chapter??? I am writing what I think would logically happen in this type of scenario, but I also tend to be really pessimistic.

If you want to see more, follow: #miraclesingotham or ask to be added to the tag list.

Tag list: @northernbluetongue @zerotosiki @spicybelladonna @my-name-is-michell @legendaryneckjudgestudent @lokiifriggasonn

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By the time Marinette entered the classroom, her mood had lifted considerably from moments before. She sat at her usual seat and prepared her things as the rest of the class filed in. Her mood was slightly disrupted by a disgruntled Lila who roughly swept past her, but otherwise it seemed like today was finally going to be a normal day; well as normal as one could get in Paris, anyway. As the last remaining students settled in, Mme. Bustier walked into the room with a huge stack of papers. She settled them on her desk before addressing everyone.

“Good morning, everyone!”

“Good morning, Mme. Bustier,” the class parroted back in varying degrees of enthusiasm. Mme. Bustier smiled in satisfaction.

“Now before we begin our usual morning exercise, I would like to call up Marinette and Alya to help me distribute these packages for you. I will give you a few minutes to look through it before discussing it further,” she said, as she split the pile of papers in half and handed one half to each girl. Marinette’s eyes bulged. The stack of papers consisted of multiple stacks of paper about twenty pages long each. She and Alya shared a glance before obeying Mme. Bustier’s orders. She started at Chloe and Sabrina’s desk and ended with Rose and Juleka at the back. Then, she returned to her seat, analyzing the stack of papers in front of her.

“Wayne Enterprises Sponsored International Connections Program in Gotham City, USA Information Package and Permission Forms”

After that was a bunch of paragraphs that Marinette skimmed over. The first few pages detailed what the program was for, their accommodations, costs for travel along with what necessary documents were needed, and all sorts of other details that made Marinette dizzy. The next few pages after that outlined the risks specific to Gotham and resources that students and their guardians were strongly recommended to review before even stepping onto Gotham grounds. The pages after that were permission forms asking for the legal guardian’s consent, her personal info, insurance, etc.

Needless to say, the whole class was baffled. In fact, some of them were downright lost, considering they didn’t even know a Gotham City existed in the US. Or what Wayne Enterprises was supposed to be and why they were offered to join this program. Only Max and Alya seemed excited at the prospect of the field trip, judging on the excited murmurs that Marinette could hear. She picked up on the word “vigilantes” from Alya and “greatest detective” from somewhere behind her and suddenly it all made sense. She wasn’t sure if she heard correctly, but she was pretty sure she heard Lila talking in self-assured whispers to the confused people around her. She held in a scoff, before returning her attention to the papers in front of her.

Marinette frowned, closing the package and pushing it away from her. She waited for Mme. Bustier to explain the details more clearly. Unfortunately, Marinette already knew there was no way she could go, at least, not without risking Paris’ safety.

“If you have finished, please bring your attention to me. I will explain everything. Please leave all your questions till the end,” Mme. Bustier said, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention. “As you may have noticed, this opportunity has been given to us by M. Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises. He has chosen our school as a trial school for a program that he wants to implement next year to help expand student achievement nationally and internationally. As well as to encourage young students like yourselves to make connections with students from other countries. In fact, I believe it was Mayor Bourgeois who sent M. Wayne a glowing recommendation of our class from fundraising events to everyone’s extracurriculars and achievements! I am so proud of all of you.”

At the front, Chloé straightened in her seat and smiled smugly. Beside her, Sabrina was looking from Chloé to the stack of papers in front of her in disbelief. The class was in a similar state of shock, and soon whispers erupted excitedly from most people in the class before Mme. Bustier silenced them all.

Oh, that made sense, Marinette thought. Despite the sense of pride she felt for herself and the class (their hard work deserved some reward after all, especially with all the akumas recently), she knew Mayor Bourgeois was not the type of person to recommend just anyone from the goodness of his heart. He had recommended this class to M. Wayne for Chloé’s own success. Which was a bit of a shame, Marinette thought, since Chloé had more than enough resources to find opportunities for herself. However, she couldn’t help but feel grateful to whatever deity convinced Mayor Bourgeois to include the class, anyway.

“Anyways,” Mme. Bustier said when the class had calmed down. “I expect everyone here to listen to what I have to say and take it to heart.” Mme. Bustier’s voice settled lowered, her tone becoming dangerously low. “This program is a huge opportunity however, Gotham City is full of many risks and I am making it absolutely mandatory for everyone in this room, as well as their legal guardians to use the sources outlined under “Risks to be Aware of While in Gotham City” Section. While M. Wayne has assured the supervisors for the trip as well as M. Damocles that our accommodations will be in Gotham’s financial district, there is still going to be danger; more than what we’re accustomed to in Paris.”

At the end of her spiel, the atmosphere in the room weighed heavy on Marinette. She had never seen Mme. Bustier so strict before, her teal eyes piercing through everybody in the room.

“Um, Mme. Bustier?” Lila spoke and stood up. The class swivelled their attention to her. “I’ve actually been to Gotham City and have met M. Wayne before for a humanitarian project. I’m sure M. Wayne will make sure to do everything to keep us safe.”

“That may be, Lila, but I assure you, these instructions were given to me by M. Wayne himself via email. He will do his best to make sure our trip is as safe as possible, but that means we need to do our part in keeping ourselves safe.”

Blinking owlishly, Lila faltered. “Yes, of course, Mme. Bustier.” She forced a smile. “I was just saying so because it would be an absolute shame for anyone to miss out on such a great opportunity!”

Marinette rolled her eyes. Sure, she thought. That, or she just wanted everyone to know that she knew Bruce Wayne- whoever he was- and be impressed. At least she didn’t claim that she saved Bruce Wayne’s horse or something similar. Or claim to be friends with the vigilantes Alya had been fangirling about earlier.

The rest of the morning was spent going through the rest of the package from how to ensure that everyone had their visa, to what they should bring and how they should behave while they were there. Marinette frowned; there was something off about this trip. She wasn’t sure whether it was the duration of the trip ( which had a minimum of one month, with extra time being granted in case of any future interruptions), or why an American company would choose this specific French class for the trial program instead of a class in say, London, or any other country that spoke English. It seemed that Max was thinking along the same lines as her, because the moment Mme. Bustier finished, his hand shot up in the air.

“Yes, Max?”

“I have a few questions concerning this program. Why is there a minimum allotted time for our stay? Would our parents need to agree to any extension of staying? And how are we supposed to communicate or even understand anything when most of us don’t speak English?”

Mme. Bustier smiled. “Those are all excellent questions. As I have said before, Gotham City is dangerous so there might be trips that are part of the program that will need to be rescheduled or we may need to take a later flight in case anything happens at the airport. Therefore, we need to be aware that our trip may last longer than the required month. Next, while we are there, you will be put in remedial English classes along with any classes you choose to take at Gotham Academy for the duration of our stay. This way, you will have the opportunity to brush up your English skills.”

Alya was quick to stand up and shoot her hand in the air. “Will we be going on any field trips outside of Gotham City? Like Metropolis?”

Mme. Bustier stared at her. “Maybe, but as for now, all details of the trip are included in the itinerary in your packages.”

Alya deflated, slumping in her seat. Marinette turned toward her and whispered, “What’s so special about Metropolis?”

She perked up and whispered excitedly. “It’s the home of Superman, Booster Gold and Blue Beetle!” Marinette had absolutely no clue -nor any real desire to know- who those were. It didn’t seem to matter as Alya rambled on. “And, and, and, it’s also the home to Pulwitzer prize-winning journalist Lois freaking Lane from the Daily Planet. I love her. I think I told Nino once that I would leave him for her (Nino gave an affirmative “uh huh”) if the opportunity ever arose and he said he wouldn’t mind as long as he could be with Superman. But that’s alright because Lois Lane is a badass and I love her; she is a genius-”

“Ahem.” Mme. Bustier coughed. Alya stopped mid-speech and laughed sheepishly. Her voice must have been louder than she realized.

“Sorry Mme. Bustier.”

“No problem, Alya. Just keep your excitement until the end of class.” She smiled softly. “And, I will see if I can mention your love for Lois Lane to M. Wayne.”

The way Alya froze in her seat, her jaw unhinged and wide eyes, Marinette wasn’t sure if she was in normal shock or if Mme. Bustier had actually managed to kill her with words. She chuckled before nudging her side to bring her back to reality. Shaken out of her stupor, Alya thanked Mme. Bustier and sat in her seat. Her smile was record-breakingly wide and she seemed to vibrate in place.

Letting out a giggle, Marinette was ecstatic for her best friend. Sure, she may not know the superheroes she mentioned, and still wasn’t too sure of who Lois Lane was, but Alya looked like she won a million euros and meeting her idol would be a great opportunity. As Alya continued to freak out however, she shared glances between Adrien and Nino in front of her and had to stifle their laughter.

Maybe if Alya did meet Lois Lane and Superman, and Gotham vigilantes, she could share her excitement with Marinette when the class returned to Paris.

The rest of the day had been pretty normal, with the addition of excitement in the air as her class discussed the trip to Gotham. Students from other classes seemed to be split between being jealous of the class for the opportunity, or relieved at the foreseeable absence of what they dubbed as “the akuma class.” Students from her own class huddled together in their small groups, already planning on what they wanted to do, what they thought Gotham would be like, and how they were excited to meet any cute Americans. Marinette couldn’t help but let their excitement affect her as well. Not only was going abroad always a cause for excitement but surely it was a relief to be able to leave Paris in the foreseeable future. It was exhausting being targeted by stupid demonic butterflies and sucking up your feelings like they didn’t exist (Unless you were Lila, then you cried and let everyone worry about your emotional state and any akumas that could come from it, that is). However, Marinette had a feeling that this trip to Gotham would stir a lot of drama within their class, when everyone had the chance to reveal any negative emotions without the consequence of an akuma around.

Well, that was that, she supposed as she went home for the lunch break, the permission forms tucked under her arm. She had been half tempted to chuck them in a bin somewhere, but knew her parents would be pissed if she didn’t tell them. Thus, she entered the bakery and once there was a lull in the orders, asked both of her parents if they could talk.

She led them upstairs in the living room and placed the bundle of papers on the dining room table. Marinette briefly explained the program and let them read through the package carefully. By the time they finished, Marinette only had an hour left of her two hour lunch break.

“So?” She prompted, trying to gauge their reactions.

Her maman and dad exchanged a glance and nodded, before turning back to her.

“You’re definitely going.” Her maman said, putting the package back on the table.

Marinette’s jaw dropped. “Wait, Maman, don’t you need some more time to think about this?” She couldn’t believe it. She should’ve chucked the package in a bin.

Her dad frowned. “Marinette, we don’t like it either, and it’s not...ideal, but we believe it’s for the best if you stay away from Paris for now.”

Marinette’s eyes widened, glancing back and forth between her maman and dad. “What do you mean?”

Her maman sighed. “Ever since we almost got akumatized on the day you were expelled, me and your father have been talking, and well, Paris isn’t safe for you anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time.”

Her dad nodded in agreement. Marinette felt befuddled. She felt like she definitely lost a few brain cells.

“Gotham City isn’t safe either, Maman, Papa. Didn’t you see the risks listed?” Marinette asked, grabbing the package and desperately scouring through the package. This was so not happening; she couldn’t afford to leave Paris.

She heard a sigh coming from her maman, before her hands settled on Marinette’s own. Marinette glanced up to stare at her maman’s cloudy grey gaze. “It’s definitely not ideal, and we wish you were somewhere safer, but I trust that M. Wayne and the school administration would never have allowed this to happen if it was too risky.”

“But-”

“And, “ her dad interjected before Marinette could continue. “If this hadn’t come up, we would’ve sent you away with your grandmère and you would’ve had to pause your schooling and travel around Europe with her until it was safe to come back home.”

“Or,” her maman added, giving Tom a small glare. “We would’ve sent you to Shanghai with your uncle Wang. At least this way, you can continue with your schooling and still be with your friends under the maximum amount of protection.”

Her breathing turned heavy at her words. Her heart was beating faster, was it just her imagination or did it feel like the room was stuffier than before. She didn’t understand. Why now? They had been planning to send her away. She pressed a hand against her chest to try to control her breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. It had been a calming trick Master Fu had shown her when she had been at the edge of getting an anxiety attack.

Not for the first time, Marinette wished she could just tell her parents she was Ladybug. Then again, maybe that would’ve motivated them further to get her out of Paris.

No, her maman and papa loved her. They just wanted her to be safe. They weren’t aware she’d been taking care of Paris all this time.

She felt her maman’s warm presence beside her as her papa engulfed them both. She barely registered the apologies her maman whispered as she stroked her hair. She was too busy pushing down all her anxieties.

She couldn’t risk getting akumatized.

Her lunch break had been long over by the time she had calmed down. By then, both her maman and papa had returned to the bakery with promises that they would talk about this tomorrow and that they would call the school to report her absence for the afternoon.

Marinette barely registered them as she trudged up to her bedroom. Then her bathroom. Shower. Dry hair. Change of clothes. Bed.

She didn’t know what to feel. She didn’t notice the kwamis flying towards her and snuggling with her, in her hair and the crook of her neck.

“What do I do?” She asked listlessly.

Tikki floated to her field of vision. “Marinette. It’ll be okay.”

“How?”

Tikki didn’t give an answer. She sighed and sat up. She was going to write in her diary until she read her last entry. Right. Marianne. She sighed. She’d call her and then go on an early patrol of the city.

She didn’t want the helplessness that came with being Marinette.

Taking a long, deep breath, she grabbed her tablet and called Marianne through video chat. Surprisingly, despite her age, Marianne adapted to technology pretty well. She and Master Fu were living somewhere in London, enjoying their retirement together. Marinette liked to keep up with them regularly, since she missed Master Fu, and their present now gave her hope for her own future.

She waited for the screen to load, and smiled widely when Marianne’s face entered the screen. She looked like she had just gotten home; the makeup she was wearing was starting to fade, and her hair was tied in a slightly wet updo bun.

“Marinette! Bonjour! How have you been, darling?” Marinette noticed that she had adopted a slight British accent when she talked. It hadn’t been that long since they last talked, so maybe her and Master Fu had been going out more.

“Bonjour Marianne.” She softly waved her hand. “Everything’s fine actually. How are you and Master Fu?”

Marianne smiled, re-focusing her own screen so Marinette could see her more clearly. “Everything’s been great. Wang has taken to liking massage parlors again. We just visited one yesterday.”

Marinette smiled fondly. She could feel Wayzz’s presence on her shoulder as he listened intently. If anyone had been more devastated than Marinette about Master Fu’s amnesia and departure, it would have been Wayzz. It had taken a long time for him to open up to Marinette and the other kwamis, often leaving the Oolong tea she brewed for him to run cold. Fortunately, he was getting better and opening up more. Their love for Master Fu had been what helped he and Marinette bond together as a new Guardian and kwami.

“I’m glad. It seems like you two are really happy.”

Marianne squinted her eyes; she could feel her gaze through the screen. “Why did you call, Marinette?”

“I, ah, had a question about the Miraculous actually. I was wondering if your time with Master Fu before had given you any insight to them.”

Marianne frowned slightly, rubbing her chin. “I’ve picked up on a few things, but Wang was really secretive. I’ll give it my best shot for you, dear.”

“Thank you! I was wondering if you had any clue as to why the Miracle Box turned into an egg when Master Fu renounced his Guardianship to me?”

Marianne sighed. “I wish I could tell you, but I’m as lost as you are.”

She deflated. Her hands gripped the tablet tighter. She knew there was only a miniscule chance that Marianne would’ve known anything, but a tiny part of her had hoped that luck would be on her side. Exhaling, Marinette thanked her.

On the other side of the screen, Marianne’s frown deepened. As happy as she was with Wang Fu, it was cruel for destiny to hand such a young child the enormous and numerous responsibilities that the Guardian had to bear. She glanced at Wang, who was sleeping on the couch contentedly. She was happy they could now spend the rest of their lives together in peace when most of it had been previously spent in war.

Speaking of war…

“Marinette, darling! I think I might know of someone who can help you!”

Marinette perked up. She had been about to change the subject or close the call, but maybe she had a bit of luck on her side after all.

“Who?”

“During the war, when Wang and I escaped to Paris, we were aided by someone who would become one of our closest friends. When he was recruited to battle in the war, he was very young, so Wang had lent him the Snake Miraculous for its powers of Intuition, at least until the war was over.”

Marinette felt Wayzz stiffen on her shoulder.

“She doesn’t mean…”

“Unfortunately,” Marianne continued. “When he returned home, he had an argument with Wang and almost didn’t return the Miraculous. It was only a month later that he left it on our doorstep. We haven’t heard from him since, but maybe he might know something. He was always a genius and intuitive beyond his years.”

Marinette frowned. “Do you know where he might be now?”

“His name is Alfred Pennyworth. He mentioned once that his family had a tradition of serving a family called the Waynes.”

Marinette’s frown deepened. There was the name Wayne again. Which meant Gotham. It felt like the universe really wanted her to go there. She sighed. At least she’d have an objective while she was there- if she did go in the first place. She smiled again, once she saw Marianne’s worried stare.

“Thank you so much, Marianne. I need to go now and plan what to do. I hope you and Master Fu stay well.”

Marianne smiled. “You too, Marinette. Don’t hesitate to call me for anything, dear.”

She merely nodded, and they both logged off. She set aside her tablet and turned to face Sass, who was already in front of her.

“Tell me everything you know about this Alfred Pennyworth and your time with him, Sass. I need to know if he can help before considering everything.”

The snake kwami merely nodded. “Of course, my Guardian.”

#and of course by universe i mean me #miraclesingotham #mlb x dc #maribat au #maribat #yall im really gonna add trauma to this already traumatized butler huh #i am so sorry #this arc was not supposed to be three chapters long #even i want them to go to gotham already but the set up ugh #ml x dc

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simon-newman · 4 years ago

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Newman’s Anime Reviews - Kimetsu no Yaiba

Hello Everyone and welcome to my first anime review in… Nearly 4 years?

*Cough*

Yeah - I know - I am still supposed to write the Seven Witches review… I have no excuses. I will get to it. SOMEDAY!

But today I’m going to talk about another anime. The first title from my 2021 anime challenge.

Actually this is the only anime from the challenge list that I’ve picked myself because I’ve been intending to watch it for a while now.

I’m talking about

Kimetsu no Yaiba

Now - I didn’t really know what I’m getting myself into. I’m not sure if this counts as an achievement but I didn’t know shit about this title outside of:

Some people I know highly recommended it to me,

Nezuko is the best girl (and a demon)

There’s some dude wearing boar’s head as a mask,

Swords

Apparently it’s about killing demons

This is everything. EVERYTHING I knew when I started watching.

First things first however - let's start with the premise.

We meet our protagonist - Kamaboko Gonpachiro as he’s living his harsh but happy life with his large family. Monjiro takes on the responsibility of caring for his mother and younger siblings as the oldest male in the family after his father’s death before the start of the plot.

We join our protagonist as he goes down the mountain to sell charcoal at the nearby village and promises to come back with a lot of goods and food for the New Year’s.

Right off the bat we’re presented with beautiful scenes of a loving family life our protagonist enjoys and I’m not going to make any anime veteran jokes about it.

Long story short - Tontaro’s trip lasts longer than he expected and he ends up staying the night at the village. It is then that we learn about demons that prowl the night of Kimetsu no Yaiba world. Evil creatures of darkness that feed on the flesh of humans. We also learn about demon hunters who protect people from those demons.

Gengoro resumes his trip back early in the morning but thanks to his keen sense of smell soon realizes that something is wrong. Very wrong. He rushes forward to get back as soon as possible but it is already too late.

There was a demon attack during the night and his family got killed with the sole exception of his sister Nezuko who was turned into a demon.

Surprising a demon hunter who appears shortly after Nezuko manages to regain her senses and has strong enough will to resist attacking humans. Thus begins Kanjiro’s journey - to become a demon slayer himself, avenge his family, protect others from what happened to him and find a way to turn his sister back into a regular human.

Sounds easy, right?

I’ll be honest here that while the beginning was executed beautifully I must admit that I wasn’t really feeling this anime right away.

It seemed like your standard shounen anime from the start. Greatly executed despite being very cliche but still not outstanding.

Tragedy to set our protagonists on their way followed by the training arc and Jangoro finally becoming a demon slayer while Nezuko changes in her own way to be able to live without consuming humans - surprising experienced demon slayers.

It is only after that that the real story begins and we follow Tanjiro as he starts his mission as a true demon slayer himself.

Truly basics of the basics if I were to be honest. At that point I couldn’t really complain about anything in this show but at the same time nothing really stood out. As mentioned - the story was cliche. The fights so far were so-so. Animation was good but at the same time I knew that Ufotable isn’t showing it’s best yet. Somehow however it all just worked - together with music which really played into my tastes - yes - I really enjoy the music in this show (make it the one thing i really liked at that point).

But then everything changed with the Asakusa Arc.

Oh no! It’s Michael Jackson! RUN!

The introduction of the Big Bad Muzan, his Twelve Demon Moons and the possible way of turning Nezuko back into human set our vague goals in place and Kentaro finally had a clear mission to accomplish.

What’s more - from this point on the fights become far more entertaining as well.

I did get the impression that this progress might be done too rapidly but thinking back it’s a good thing actually. We got too used to 150 episodes of nothing important happening and now any sort of early development seems rapid.

Before you say that I contradict my statements from earlier reviews hear me out: While we do meet major antagonists early on we don’t really get much from it outside of direction in the story. The Big Bad doesn’t make a move himself and is not even fought directly but becomes aware of Tangoro’s existence and wants him gone.

This is a good development to happen early in the story to keep the stakes high while not resolving anything just yet.

But this is not the end of improvements.

In the following story arc (Tsuzumi Mansion Arc) Santarou meets with two fellow demon slayer newbies - Zenitsu and Insouke who add some team dynamics to our already decent story and IMO further improves the fights we get to see.

As for the new team members… Zenitsu starts out pretty annoying at first with his extremely cowardly demeanor while Inosuke is the polar opposite with a fearless, rash personality.

I might be overthinking it but I see Inosuke as a parody - of sorts - for a character I personally dislike - Kirito from SAO. Both are dual-wielding master swordsmen with a feminine face (and for added bonus they’re both voiced by Yoshitsugu Matsuoka) but while Kirito’s strong because he’s the protag (Gary Stu) Inosuke is insanely ripped from his harsh life in the wilderness and… Well… Pretty much insane.

Pretty amazing, aren’t I? Pretty amazing, aren’t I?

This change of pace - going from just Gentaro and Nezuko to a 4 man team with Zenitsu and Inosuke - marks the difference between the first and second half of this anime (and i forgot to mention it’s a whole 26 episodes show - not the 12 episodes short we got used to in recent years).

While the first half was kinda decent but not outstanding the second half is really, really entertaining to watch. Both the characters get a lot more chances at interaction and development and the action steps up from what we’ve seen before.

In short - two story arcs I’ve mentioned above supplemented what was lacking before. Things I wasn’t even clearly aware of initially.

Without a clear mission for Tenpachirou to accomplish we’d just descend into a monster-of-the-week formula and without more team members we’d be left with no means to explore our protagonists’ character in full.

What’s of Ponjirou extreme kindness if we don’t get to see him affect people with it outside of one-time-only interactions and his good relationship with his sister?

Yes - you can show it time and time again but from this point on it comes out more naturally and as I’ve mentioned already - we get to see it affect people in the long run - something I hope we’ll see further in the story.

Left to right: Boss Honey Badger, Sleeping Badass, Best Girl and Cinnamon Roll.

Which brings me to this sad point…

Despite being a full 26 episodes show it still feels more like an introduction. We barely get to the right formula in the midpoint and conclude the fight against the first real enemy shortly before the anime is over. Souchirou’s journey has only just begun.

I’ve really wanted to write this review after watching the following Kimetsu no Yaiba Movie: Mugen Ressha-hen. That’s for multiple reasons.

At this point I know that this story arc is going to further up the stakes with the Upper Ranks of the Demon Moons getting into action but at the same time I’m really excited to see if Ufotable is going to show us what they’re capable of in terms of animation.

Because I think this anime deserves it.

Sadly - while the movie was out already I didn’t manage to watch it before writing this review.

Kamado Tanjirou vs Lower Moon One - Enmu.

To sum it up - It was an interesting experience to see the anime develop in front of me - from a decent cliche show that didn’t make any major mistakes and played all the tropes just right into a really good and entertaining show in it’s own right.

My final assessment of the show is also the result of a certain niche this anime fits into. Namely the enjoyable sword fight scenes.

I’m definitely going to watch the movie when I’m able to and dive right into the following seasons of anime if they are made.

At this point something with this anime resonates with me - this show feels “just right” for some reason.

There’s also an added benefit of it not being dragged into infinity. From what I’ve heard the manga is already finished and we could get a definite end line before the story gets watered down into tasteless money grab.

Something to be appreciated when it comes to shounen manga…

Well. It is time to wrap up this review as well.

With all the above being said my final verdict is...

Final Score: 8/10 +Newman’s Mark of Quality

Status: Completed

Sentence: Butterfly Mansion rehabilitation training (I bet I’d enjoy it after a while).

Next: Code Geass

#Anime #Review #Kimetsu no Yaiba #Demon Slayer #Nezuko #Tanjiro #Inosuke #Zenitsu

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revchainsaw · 4 years ago

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Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind (1984)

Prayers and Salutations Cult Members! I am your mysterious minister Reverend Chainsaw and this is another nights revival service at the Cult Film Tent Revival. I bring you a special word tonight. Tonight's word is about a person who roamed the earth, in a time where people were backward and warlike. A leader emerged into a kingdom full of eschatological expectation. This leader came preaching peace, and was killed for the sins of the world, but was resurrected. In that resurrection a new hope was brought to the planet, and true healing through the power of love in the face of violence is made possible. I am talking of course about Princess Nausicaa from the Valley of the Wind.

The Message

Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind is the film that put studio Ghibli and Hayoa Miyazaki on the map. No animated feature this grandiose and epic had been achieved by 1984, as much as Disney may beg to differ. The tale may be simple, and it may feel super 80s to us today, but Nausicaa is a masterpiece, and the fact that Howl's Moving Castle is brought up alongside Princess Mononoke and Spirited Away more often than Nausicaa is a farce and a tragedy.

The film takes place on a fantastic planet that seems to have suffered the ravages of an apocalyptic war. A war that involved gigantic warriors with powers so devastating they about made the entire planet inhospitable if not uninhabitable; save for a few areas. The fall out of this ancient war has left the earth in a state of repair, where the natural processes of a planet healing has creating giant toxic jungles.

Beyond these jungles lie two imperialistic factions, they seem almost to be city-states but it's not terribly clear. The Kingdom of Tolmekia, a militaristic proto-fascist society of almost Spartan sensibilities. Tolmekia is governed by the ambitious and cynical Princess Kushana, But I like to call her Furiosa. Just like Furiosa, Kushana is physically missing parts of herself, a visual metaphor for her metaphysical lacking and the parts of her humanity she has cut away. Kushana's world view is one of fear, a fear that can only be quelled by waging a genocidal campaign against her enemies.

Speaking of enemies, the Athens to Tolmekias Sparta would be the Pejite Kingdom. The Pejites might like to view themselves as simply responding to Tolmekian aggression, but the narrative of the film, and the story told quite visibly on the body of Kushana, is quite different. The Pejites are just as bloodthirsty if not more palettable in their approach, but like the Tolmekians, they believe only their own lives have any value. And thus, in this theatre of war, a Giant Warrior from the ages before is unearthed by the Pejite Kingdom, Stolen by the Tolmekians, before the forces of nature themselves, seem to conspire to drop the Giant Warriors "egg" right into the Valley of the Wind.

The Valley of the Wind is populated like the world of Avatar the Last Airbender, that is mostly of children and the elderly. The people of the Valley have been able to remain untouched by the ravages of war and the toxic jungles of the damaged world primarily due to geographic luck that's explained in minor exposition in the film. They are ruled by a King, and they are all deeply enamored by their beloved Princess Nausicaa.

Nausicaa is a gentle soul. She is kind to animals, she is empathetic, unreasonably patient, and bears pain and grief inflicted on her out of cruelty with a saintly understanding. She really is a thinly veiled Christ figure, scratch that. There is no veil. But she's also my favorite Christ figure. She does not preach a message, as much as she tries to save everyone from their own short sighted goals. She is not perfect, she does lash out and do some fantasy sword fight murder, but she regrets her actions so deeply that it seems to have played a part in motivating her to become even more compassionate and patient with the evils of the world.

Nausicaa discovers yet another plot by the Pejites, who are afraid of the possibility of the Tolmekians awakening the Giant Warrior, to use animal cruelty to enrage a group of almost invincible giant insects known as the Ohm. By luring the Ohm into the Valley of the Wind where the Tolmekians have become an occupying force, they hope to completely wipe out everything that threatens them. The Tolmekians DO awaken the Giant Warrior and pure pandemonium ensues. Nausicaa manages to save the Baby Ohm and calm the rage of the bloodthirsty Ohm swarm, and to defeat the warlike tendencies of both the Pejites and the Tolmekians. All the while fulfilling a prophecy fortold about a messianic savior figure called the Man in Blue.

Now that you have heard the Gospel of Nausicaa, please stand to receive The Benediction.

Best Character: Half a Person

Now that I've spent the better part of this review gushing about our Lord and savior Nausicaa. I have to admit, she's at times a bit too perfect, a bit too saccharin. Even her flaw, or her one weakness and her failing to be perfect, just adds to the perfection. I can't even say she never makes mistakes cuz she made one, and that's infuriating. It's even more infuriating that I still think she's a great character. Normally this kind of thing really kills a hero. Most Chosen Ones are the most boring and least likeable characters in their narratives. I don't know how Nausicaa avoids this trap, but she does. I'll have to do some meditating on that.

However, just like in your typical Chosen One fantasy narrative, the hero is a lot less fun than the villain. I'm going to say the best character in Nausicaa is Kushana. I want to be like Nausicaa, but I don't understand her. She's almost alien, even though we learn all about her. Kushana is mysterious, secretive, and enigmatic, yet I understand her. She barely has an arc, she doesn't really change. She's cold and cynical to the bone, but I don't need to see much of her situation to completely understand why she is the way she is. I usually hate totalitarian bad guys, but Kushana I like. Sue Me.

Also fun fact, did you that Nausicaa means 'Sinker of Ships'. That's kinda fun.

Best Scene: Spoiled for Choice

I'm going to be lazy and say take your pick. There is really not a bad seen in this movie. If the action isn't going, then there's intriguing dialogue. If there's no dialogue then you may be about to get hit with a forceful burst of whimsy. There's horror, there's swordfights and aerial dogfights. The only thing in Nausicaa I don't like to see, is the bloody tortured Ohm Baby. It's like a god damned Sarah Mclachlan commercial.

Best Creature: Foxy Shazam!

The Ohm are so simplistic yet so detailed. The number of eyes is alien, but the way they are used is expertly expressive. Who'd think you could get me to love what basically amounts to a silverfish with the intensity that I love a kitten. How did Miyazaki pull an Okja with a creature that should be haunting our dreams? I don't know.

And what about the Giant Warrior! If you are an Evangelion fan then you probably already know that Hideaki Anno designed and animated the melting goopy biomechanical beast. Surely a sight that would make both H.R. Giger and Clive Barker giddy with excitement. Just the image of the silhouettes marching amidst the desolation of the old world is burned into my brain.

So which of these is the best creature from Ghibli's first outing? It's fucking Teto. It was always gonna be Teto you idiot. Just look at Teto, he's adorable. He's too cute to exist. I'm so alone. I need a pet.

Best Character Design: Tolmekian Regalia

I originally included this category to talk some about Kushana, however, at that time I also thought I was going to say Nausicaa was the best character. I thought hard about deleting it, but I think it's a different category and you can't accuse me of playing favorites because my favorite character is clearly Teto. Just to keep it simple. It's the two costume shift from full military regalia in white and gold, to the one metal arm, warrior princess get up. It's a great costume and a great look. Get on this shit cosplay nerds. It's great for Cons in Canada, you have to think about layers, and you can't keep going as Mr. Plow. It's lazy.

Best Excuse to Talk About Patrick Stewart's Character: Lord Yupa

I just realized that I was about to write this whole review without talking about Lord Yupa. Lord Yupa is a sword saint and all around badass I think a lot of entertainment, especially in the west is lacking bad ass old men. Lord Yupa particularly shines in the early half of the film as a warrior and as a wise council to Nausicaa. If she's Jesus then Yupa is John the Baptist. He is also voiced by the elegant and eloquent Patrick Stewart. He also comes with 2 chocobos!

Worst Character: For Whom Asbel Tolls

This might also be the worst actor category as well. Actual Cannibal (haha meme) and actual monster (haha real life) Shia Labeouf doesn't so much act in the role as he read the lines and it was recorded. The good news it doesn't effect the film too much because Asbel is completely forgettable. He is a catalyst to some of the action, but besides that I don't really care for him.

Worst Aspect: To Be Fair ...

It would be unfair to completely ignore anything negative about Nausicaa. I have already mentioned in many places that there are some pretty corny, or pretty predictable tropes to this movie. But what I can't capture in words is exactly why it feels fresh when it's done in this movie. I suppose that's what makes it good. It's just so good that it's weak points are lifted up by it's strengths. Some people may bored of Nausicaa's unyielding goodness, or that she very rarely chooses to take action as much as she chases and pleads with her surroundings, but I mean, she does pay for that eventually. It's a fantasy story and it hits a lot of timeless themes that have been hit in stories for as long as human beings have been telling stories. Some people may feel that it doesn't do enough to stand out.

Summary

I have defined the S tier for myself as "near perfect and personal favorite" films. I like to think that Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind is near perfect. Some may say that it looks like it might just be a personal favorite. In the case of Nausicaa, I'm having a very hard time telling the difference. I think it would be overly simple to claim that Nausicaa is just an ancient archetypal heroes journey with an 80s anime coat of paint. I think it's doing quite a few new and interesting things with that formula, those things are just playing out all around that narrative as opposed to being at it's center. For a first full length outing by the studio, you can really see Miyazaki's heart and the values he holds close to. I'll repeat myself so that we are completely clear on the matter. I think Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind is a near perfect movie.

Overall Grade: S

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