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THE LIVING MUSEUM: CHAPTER 1
(interactive puzzle at the bottom!)
As luck would have it, the detective had a case that had just been given to her by the Chief Constable Barton (talk about a high order!) I watched as she leafed through the folders on her desk before slipping out a small stack of papers and bringing them over to me. Clearing her throat, Detective Layton ran over the details…
“At approximately 2:00pm, a fire alarm in the Natural History Museum sounded. Around 5 minutes later, visitors in the museum reported that they witnessed several exhibits, and I quote, ‘come to life before their eyes.’ There were visitors who told officials that the suits of armour on display had started to move and raise their weapons, visitors who reported that paintings on the walls started to melt and blink, and visitors who said that the dinosaur skeleton exhibits had opened their mouths and moved their heads. But the most damning of all seemed to be the Tyrannosaurus rex exhibit, who not just moved but assumed a lunging stance with its full body, as well as somehow roared.”
“Right, that’s odd. And?”
“Well, since the officials were only able to question the visitors outside of the museum due to everyone having been evacuated because of the fire alarm, naturally they went inside to check the exhibits themselves.”
“And they found…?”
“Nothing. They did a whole sweep of the area, but they found nothing out of place. All exhibits were in their normal places, the paintings were just fine, and everything was untouched.”
“Wow…”
“I assume the reason that Barton held onto what information they had on it and handed it to me was due to the witnesses. Despite the fact that the Yard found no obvious signs of tampering, everyone swears up and down the walls that the museum had seemingly come to life at that moment.”
“...That is a proper mystery. And these files are all we have on the matter?”
“Well, in a sense, yes. These are all the files we have,” Detective Layton muses as she taps the bottom of the stack on the coffee table. Then, getting up, she drops the stack back in their folder. “...Which is why I was thinking of heading over to the museum myself to do a bit of personal investigation.”
“As expected of the great Professor Layton,” I say cheekily as I stand and follow her to the front door, grabbing my jacket off the hanger in the process. The detective sighs lightly as she places her hat on her head, pulling the brim over her eyes in mock disappointment. “Please, Ms. Altava. It's just Detective.”
Now lifting the brim, she smiles brightly as she grabs her umbrella.
“So, Ms. Altava… let’s go investigate this living museum with our own two eyes, shall we?”
And with that, our adventure into the peculiar museum begi-
“Ah, but before that, I have here the directions to the museum written for me by Barton, and it seems to be a puzzle of some sort. As you’re now my assistant, why don’t you give it a shot? Think of it as a warm-up of things to come.”
…Right. She’s Layton’s daughter, after all. How could I have forgotten? …And are we sure they're not really related by blood…?
PUZZLE 1: Where's The Museum?
Take your time and think about the answer, or Flora (and the puzzle master) will be very disappointed in you...!
A | B | C | D | E | F | G | H | I | J (Need a hint?: 1 | 2 | 3)
(thanks to @justkillingthyme for beta reading, and several mutuals for puzzle testing!)
#mak art#mak draws pl#professor layton#rmj au#laytons mystery journey#lmj#professor layton au#flora reinhold#emmy altava#please enjoy this first entry to the Reinhold Mystery Journey!!!#it's been a HELL of a process but here it is. in working order i hope#i may have set the standard too high for myself i fear.#“will the rest of the entries be like this” a hard maybe.#for the investigation bits it'll likely be text with the occasionally drawing#cutscenes are ideally comics. coloured or not im not sure yet#but actual puzzles will be . far and few between i hope.#mainly bc im no akira tago. any puzzle that's challenging and solvable will be Very difficult for me to come up with#im also limited by the tumblr format to only be able to do multiple answer puzzles#that and the fact i need several people to test them. then draw them. then come up with results. then hints. and put them all on tumblr and#the process is just far too demanding .#so please do the puzzle the right way or i'll cry.#thanks again to thyme for beta reading my work <3 ur the best
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yk how in veres likes on his character sheet it says he like cooking (badly)…… WHY HAS NO ONE DONE A FIC ABOUT THAT YET‼️⁉️⁉️ THAT SHOULD NOTTT BE A WASTED OPPORTUNITY. i’m not even joking im ab to send this to so many people because i can’t let this go to waste 😞
Here u are anon! For the record, you are completely free to send this prompt around wherever you’d like! It was such a fun idea, I’d love to see more takes on it. ^^
Warnings: Vere talking Innuendos? Innuendos. So many, and I don’t guarantee that they are funny lol. Just a general silly vibe and imo: absolutely tooth rotting fluff.
‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅SOUS CHEF ‧₊˚♡₊˚
You find yourself wandering through Lowtown during the lunch hour, trying to decide what sounds like a good meal.
Your mouth waters at the scents being carried on the breeze, a plethora of pleasant aromas wafting out of the eateries nestled inside the Amaryllis District, so fragrant that you can smell them all the way down on the bustling streets of Lowtown as long as you stay downwind.
However, if there’s one nice thing about knowing Leander it's that you also know you don’t have to go that far (or spend that much) for a delicious lunch.
Near enough to the Wet Wick, there’s a series of side streets that make up an eclectic amalgamation of Lowtown and the Amaryllis District, and in it: a small and inconspicuous eatery. The menu changes often, though you aren’t sure if that’s out of innovation or necessity, but the food is always filling and reasonably priced.
You follow the winding streets, getting lost for a brief moment before correcting your course, traveling until you see colorful chipped girih tiles and wide, clean windows. You let yourself into the shop, the now familiar sound of hinges in need of an oiling welcoming you.
There’s an assortment of goods on display–jars of honey and spiced fruit and loaves of braided bread with seeds–all kept safely locked away beneath an enchanted pane of glass.
Looking around, though, you don’t see anyone selling said fantastic wares.
You call out, expecting the shop keep or her wife to come running but instead you hear…silence.
Followed by a loud metallic clatter.
You freeze, unsure what to do, what the threat is–if there’s even a threat?–but before you can make up your mind, you’re greeted by a most unexpected sight.
Vere comes out of the kitchen area, his hair swept into an artfully stunning up-do that reveals the long line of his neck and clavicle, blemished only by the heavy collar locked around his throat.
He’s wearing a weighty linen apron over his clothing, presumably to protect his outfit, though–his long gossamer sleeves are completely discordant with the notion, making you think that maybe the apron is more of an aesthetic choice.
“What’s this–? A mouse? In my kitchen?” Vere asks playfully as you continue to stare, dumbfounded. He wields a spatula in his hand like a weapon–swatching it into his off-hand like a riding crop with a decisive snap.
“Where is–?”
“–The shop keep? Wherever she pleases–the shop’s closed on Mondays.”
(You really don’t like the way he’s watching you… Or the way he keeps inching closer…)
You take a step backwards, your eyes never leaving his. “Oh,” you say, bandaged hands reaching blindly behind you. “I didn’t realize. The door was unlocked, so…” You trail off.
You find the doorknob at last. You attempt to turn it only to find that it won’t budge.
“Was it?”
Vere saunters up to you, tail swaying behind him. You manage to tear your eyes away from his predator stare to search for possible exits, though you know for a fact you won’t be fast enough. You look back and he’s already in your space, crowding you against the entryway.
(He smells really good, actually. Like leather and spice and the subtle cling of perfume and incense. And beneath that, something–earthy–animalistic, but in a way that’s intoxicating as opposed to unpleasant.)
“I was just about to make myself a snack–how nice that a snack came to me.”
“Stop playing around.” You try to steel yourself and inject the perfect amount of scolding into your voice while combating his heated stare. “I know you’re just fucking with me to try and get a reaction; you and I both know you’re not going to eat me.”
If he was, he would have done it by now. Sometime within the weeks you’ve known him. …Probably.
Unless he just likes to play with his food.
“I didn’t realize you knew me so well,” he says, looking amused. “Perhaps I didn’t plan to, but now I simply can’t resist. You look so absolutely delectable, how could I possibly contain myself?”
You don’t get the chance to reply. Vere’s countenance changes suddenly–you watch his ears flatten a second before you hear the screaming whistle of a teapot. His ears twitch in annoyance at the sound, his perfectly sculpted face showing a sour sneer. He gives you a sideways glance, calculating.
“Then again. I find myself in need of a sous chef. Congratulations on your promotion. Come along now.” He hooks a finger into your cloak and pulls you easily into the kitchen. (To be fair, you don’t struggle. Anyone would want to see where this is going, right?)
He releases you once you’ve crossed over the threshold, waving his fingers uncaringly towards a second apron affixed to a hook on the wall as he beelines to remove a glass teapot from the stove and stifle the noise. He moves quickly as you watch, casually throwing aside the spatula in his hand in favor of an ornate silver teaspoon. He measures a vibrantly colored tea into the inlaid steeping container of the equally ornate teapot and takes a pleased inhale as the tea’s fragrance blooms, humming as he flips over a delicate hourglass to keep track of the steeping time.
There’s silence for a moment–
Him watching the teapot and you watching him.
“Well?” He asks, without looking up. You’ve seen this look before, you think – this pensive, almost lonesome look that makes your heart ache against all better judgment. “Staying or going?”
He grins when you put on the apron. You search his face for some sincerity, but he’s all sharp teeth and tall ears, covering any glimpses of deeper emotion with a sheen of smugness. He circles you once you have the apron on, taking in the image.
“Mm, don’t you just look adorable. Very domesticated.”
You’re pretty sure that the word he’s looking for is domestic. But of course, he knows what he said and he meant to say it. You decide that he’s probably betting on your correction, already armed with a witty retort. You smooth the apron down while pointedly looking away, deciding that you won’t give him the satisfaction. You hear him chuckle.
Since you’re avoiding looking at Vere, you look around the kitchen for the first time.
It’s a spacious workspace–moreso than the storefront, even. There’s a large iron stove unlike anything you’ve ever seen, covered with magical runes and dials, with a large hearth built into the belly of it. A plethora of pots and pans have been placed on the burners, left to sizzle and pop in the red hot heat.
Oil is singing from the heated, shallow basins but you don’t see anything cooking inside.
There’s a slab of meat diced into neat squares and a heaping bowl of lumpy batter set to the side of the stove top.
“What are you making?” You ask, trying to make sense of the scene.
“Panko crusted fish filet. And there’s a pasta in the oven. For dessert, I was thinking–” he gives you a sly look, one that makes your ears feel warm, “hmm, well. I just had a much better idea in regards to dessert.” He makes a show of licking his fangs, the movements of his tongue slow and sensual.
You think you tied your apron too tight; your airway is feeling a little constricted. It seems to be getting worse the longer you watch.
You clear your throat, tearing your eyes away. More ingredients, most partially prepared, and a host of dirtied pots and pans greet you. You turn your back to him as you explore, fully engrossed in all of the views that the mess of a kitchen has to offer. You’re almost afraid to ask: “So, what am I here to help with?”
“Oh?” You don’t hear Vere come up next to you, but you feel him brushing up against you. “Does my darling sous chef require…instruction? A guiding hand, so to speak?” You freeze, feeling his breath against your ear, shivers running down your spine at his light and teasing chuckle.
But then he’s breezing past you, making a wide dramatic gesture toward the large tome perched surreptitiously on the counter. “Lucky for you, I’ve a recipe.” His tail wags swishes elegantly behind him as he beams with pride.
His tail knocks the whisk out of the mystery batter beside the fish filet but he takes no notice.
Vere hops gracefully up onto the counter, reaching for the batter. He does an impressive twist in order to grab hold of another whisk and you take the time to appreciate that. Then, with Vere occupied and seemingly ignoring you, you take a look at the recipe book.
The text is old and withered with the occasional dash of sprawling spidery script painting the margins. (Said writing is utterly illegible–you’re actually not sure if it’s in a language you can read, though if you squint you think you can see something that looks like the word ‘cake’.) The page it’s opened to is ripped in half, rendering precious steps of the recipe lost to time. You spot a mysterious bite mark piercing through the corner of the leather cover.
And can’t stop yourself from surreptitiously glancing over at Vere. He’s moved on from the batter (which looks as lumpy as it did a minute ago) and is now eating skewers of raw fish with his nails.
“You’re not supposed to eat while you cook,” you say, the time worn words out of your mouth before you can examine your personal stance on them.
“Says who? Some limp dick? No shame in indulging, pet.”
“You’re not even gonna have anything left to cook,” you warn.
“Hum, sounds like my sous chef should get to work covering them in batter instead of just standing there before I eat them all.”
You roll your eyes, but follow through with instructions. The space is unfamiliar and your movements are slow and unsure with Vere looming over you from his perch on high, watching.
One of the pans of oil gives an ominous pop. “Hmm, sounds like it’s hot enough,” says Vere. “Move over.”
“Is that safe?”
“For me,” Vere says simply. “And it’s faster. Now stand further back or you'll get splattered–and not in the fun way.” Idly, he tosses a batter covered filet into the shallow pan. The resulting hiss makes you both cringe.
As if on queue, the hourglass for the tea gives a gentle chime, lighting up with a golden glow. (You’re beginning to wonder how this humble shop can afford all these magical items, but then again this is the city of secrets. You’re probably better off not knowing.) Vere’s ears perk up, pleased. He tosses the remaining fillets in the pan without a fuss, setting lids on top of each to contain the oil, acting as if doing so is going to stop any potential disaster.
Main course forgotten, he moves on to digging something out from inside one of the many cupboards. “Be a dear and cut this for me, will you?” He hands you a delicate peach before heading to the tea pot, stirring the contents and adding what must be a priceless amount of honey.
The peach in your hand is overripe but still vibrant–amazing, as you haven’t seen fresh fruit at all since you came to Eridia. Your mouth waters anew as you remember what led you here in the first place–your quest for a meal–and you’re almost tempted to take a bite, follow Vere’s advice and sink your teeth in.
“My, my. I’m almost jealous. I thought you only looked at me like that.”
Vere shushes the denial from your lips, bossing you around regarding how he wants the peach sliced before shooing you out of his way and finishing his remaining tea preparations,with the look of an artist at work. The tea is a warm oolong color, made only more alluring once the infusion of peach is complete.
It’s refreshing, too, once Vere serves it to you over ice.
You can almost ignore the great plumes of smoke coming from the oven.
Vere cooks how others might enjoy a leisurely stroll.
Which is to say, he seems to be having fun, but you’re not convinced he intends on really going anywhere. Still, there’s a rhythm to it–a dance, though he leads you in expected loops and turns, changes the tune at a moment's notice. He’ll get bored of the task at hand and find some new spice to peruse, demand you taste test an ingredient or give your opinion on a dizzying new flavor he’s concocted.
(He manages to convince you to sample a bit of cucumber soup from the cold box. You retch, proclaiming it salty, downing another glass of delicious peach oolong–
“I can still taste it in the back of my throat…!”–and he cackles wildly.)
Thick locks of hair are falling out of his up-do by the time he’s satisfied, framing his face and bringing your attention, again to the inviting line of his clavicle. He tosses his loose hair over his shoulder, preening.
The recipe book is basically ruined, and the pasta is null and void, but some of the fillets look mildly edible. The artful garnish is beautiful, at least. The kale and orange slices really bring out the crispy burnt bits. Vere seems to enjoy plating the food a great deal, humming and rearranging and circling the display until he deems it arranged to perfection.
He’s elegant when he takes a bite, biting down with a crunch. His tail goes very still for a moment, then shivers microscopically as he chews. He swallows in a manner that you can only describe as dignified, dabbing his lips with a napkin. You wait in anticipation, but Vere says nothing for a long time. Then, he quietly takes the old recipe book and throws it away.
Thankfully, he doesn’t insist on you trying it too.
You end up snacking on some of the pre-made goods, drinking the remaining tea and lounging at one of the shop’s cozy little tables. The mood is light and easy, and the view is magnificent. Outside, there’s nothing but trash littered streets and urchins, but inside…the afternoon glow coming from the window illuminates Vere like a sunset, painting him in dazzling shades of gold and red and bronze.
Vere hums, peering at you pointedly through his sooty lashes. “So, dessert?”
You can’t imagine the look that comes across your face–whatever it is, it makes Vere laugh.
“What are you giving me that look for? My intentions are pure.” His voice is a masterclass in syrupy false-innocence. “As clean as Leander’s bed sheets after–”
“Please don’t finish that sentence and give me any mental images,” you beg. “I have to sleep there tonight, I’d rather not know.”
“Ignorance is bliss.” Vere agrees, closing his eyes and appearing to bask in the sun for a moment. His face does something that you don’t quite catch–some hidden expression–but then, he’s smiling easily. He must really be relaxed if he can still smile seconds after thinking about Leander. You’re still admiring him when the shadows against the walls flicker, and suddenly he isn’t sitting next to you any more.
Instead, he’s returning from the kitchen, a tray in hand.
He sets it down in front of you, revealing an assortment of strawberries and an ornate silver porringer of what appears to be melted chocolate. Vere sets it down on the table, plucking the small dessert spoon from the chocolate once he’s seated across from you again.
“Occasionally, life does offer up something sweet to savor–only for those willing to go out and take it.” His tongue darts out to lick the chocolate off the spoon in his hand. He maintains eye contact as his tongue laves across the basin and–embarrassingly–you think you get a little lightheaded from the intensity with which your blood rushes to your face. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes tell you that he know exactly where your mind has gone.
Setting the spoon down, Vere instead picks up a bare strawberry, leaning in closer to press it gently to your mouth.
The chocolate is overly bitter–a little burnt, perhaps, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when you’re tasting the remnants of it on Vere’s lips.
(Before leaving, you plop a few coins down on the counter as payment. You brought enough to cover your food…but definitely not enough to cover the mess in the kitchen. There’s really nothing you can do about that.
You hope you don’t get blacklisted. You’d like to come back next Monday.)
Hope you enjoyed if you made it this far! ⸜(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
#Hmm! I think they should become cooking buddies I say; I think they should make this a weekly thing#which is my way of saying ‘my bad if this was too much time spent on the set up etc and not enough on the cooking oops ahaha’#this is not how u make panko btw this is some amalgamation of panko and tempura batter don’t ask#The owner & her wife know that Vere does this btw there is a whole thing happening behind the scenes#the number of grease fires Vere has started. Is not zero.#SLICE OF LIFE IS SO HARD TO WRITE FOR ME ATM OMG??#but I hope it was a fun time#i now crave…angst lmao#touchstarved game fanfic#vere x mc#vere x reader#toxintouch: {pick} prompt {your poison}#i feel so caught up on writing now wow time to SLEEP#no good title for this one i will keep thinking?? i;ll just name it whatever in the morning lol#not that ppl need my permission to share prompts#we are all living in the same fandom biome we must share our resources to thrive#i messed around with the formatting a little :) i think it is kinda cute#toxintouch writing
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something abt pitaya and always wanting to win all the prizes
ok2rb he/him for powdered sugar (the guy in the sweater ^^) && it/its for pitaya
#📗 my post#🍓 pitaya#💚 art tag#pitaya dragon cookie#cookie run kingdom#cookie run oc#cookie run fanart#i need you guys to not look at how i forgot to add extra s's when pitayas saying 'shooting game' ok its 4:20am as im scheduling this#and i formatted the text ages ago so basically im a fake fan and im fucked eternally#self shipping#self ship art#ok i set this up and its being scheduled for not an ungodly hour in the day . goodnight#also for the lucky star girlies . yes i was thinking abt that ep
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Junicrane/Starstruck Ramble
I will not be brief, all under the cut
To clear some things right off the bat:
No corpse, no proof with Juniper. Obligatory this is set in a canon where he's alive and adjacent to the agency in some way.
Reggie & Juniper are just gay to me, but I don't mind any interpretation of their sexuality
The games are set in 1967/68 to me (based on a couple bits in game) which is before it was legal to be gay in America at least (1971), which is relevant to how I interpret canon as being somewhat grounded in reality, despite unrealistic elements.
This is just an insane amount of headcanons/elements of and AU all culminated into one post. I will talk about some headcanons like they're just facts because they are established in my head, and it saves me over explaining literally everything, however I will explain some parts a little bit for clarity.
Alright. Actual beginning of the ramble:
Juniper is a character to me who had gotten so lost in his job as an actor and a social presence that in the end his whole life revolved around that 'role'. Because of this, by the time he's put into the situation where he's around the Agency, he basically knows nothing about himself, though he doesn't realise at first. Furthermore, what little identity he had has changed in so many ways. He's no longer a beloved famous actor in the prominence of public light, he's legally dead and he tarnished his career just before he was supposed to die, with the bonus of that making him lose the majority of his estate. From that, he also has horrific facial scarring from the electrical burns from literally having his face fried. I believe a friend of mine made a post about this a while ago (I also think they were the first to think it up also), but, to me, Juniper has a permanent trimmer in his right arm (aka his dominant hand) from the electrical current and it is messing with his nervous system.
All in all, he's not doing great, but he's too proud to admit that he's not doing great, because if anything, what's left of his ego is all he has as a defense since he's deep in unfamiliar water.
Before ending up around the agency (I have multiple interpretations of this, so I'm just going to bring it up generally), he'd never actually seen Reggie, and his only impression of him is a single voicemail, which was his only reference he had to later impersonate him. Juniper probably has very little feelings other than the ones he projects onto him because of Phoenix and that, at the very least, he's physically attracted to Reggie to some degree (that's like the beginning of how everything else would tumble into place in this sort of interpretation at least).
And on Crane's side? His feelings towards Juniper are probably very intense and muddled. On the one hand, he adores musical theatre, and that's his now ex-favourite actor. The thought of just casually being around him blows the bit of fanboy in him away at first because THAT'S the GUY, plus the inklings of a celebrity crush which still poke at him. And then there's the rational side of him, which knows Juniper has committed absolute atrocities on the side of Zoraxis, and hates him for that. Then there's how much Juniper comes off as an asshole at first because he refuses to cooperate with anything the Agency tried to put in place. He finds Juniper endlessly frustrating, and yet he's stuck working with him since, afterall, he's the one who knows the Agency's history with Juniper the best. I imagine him acting a lot like how he does IEYTD 1 around Juniper.
At this point, I'm just describing the pitch for a romcom.
I think the start of their relationship with one another largely started with Juniper trying to wind Crane up. It was a way of getting his attention, and I don't think Juniper knows why he's so dead set on that at first, because I don't think he realises he has a crush on 'this grump' at first. (I think that's actually the fun part about these two, because it's almost like a role reversal of the celebrity crush dynamic. This ex-big name actor has a TERRIBLE crush on an average joe and it is KILLING HIM.) But of course the Agency keeps them together because Juniper is at least conversing with Crane, so it's a start.
Through one way or another, they actually get talking casually, at least mildly at first. It takes Juniper a long time to fully deconstruct the wall he's built, and the thing is, Crane isn't the one trying to deconstruct it, at least at first, because yeah, Juniper realises if he wants Reggie to actually like him in any way, he can't keep winding him up. So they talk. Small talk at first, something rhythmic and almost easy to keep to a script. And over time that turns into actual conversations. Genuine ones in which Reggie rips out the occasional one of his jokes which Juniper is endlessly endeared about. The way he smiles just before he makes them, like he wants to chuckle at what he's about to say before he says it. That's probably when Juniper realised that he does have some vague crush on him, and that it wasn't going away.
This is what kickstarts John I can't-buy-you-things-to-impress-you-so-acts-of-service-it-is Juniper to do little things for him. It mostly starts off as him trying to make Reggie his tea how he likes it. However, the nerve damage in his arm makes that hard, as the weight of the kettle and trying to pour is hard all of a sudden. And he refuses to accept that, so he tries for a very long while. Long enough that Crane would go to investigate what was going on. And when he does see Juniper leaning over a cup with the kettle as he uneasily tries to pour it, and when Crane asks Juniper responds so matter-of-fact that his intention is nothing but genuine. And it catches Reggie off guard because Juniper hadn't done anything like that up to that point, and his very apparent vulnerability is so clearly on show.
It shifts something between them.
From that point on, conversations are longer, more familiar. Both of their attitudes soften, and Reggie makes more jokes. Juniper learns how to better use his left hand while strengthening his right back to a point where it could be used again. Slowly, they're both spending time with one another not because they have to, but just because they can. Little bits at first, not too far outside what they already were doing, but those little bits turned into long bits to a point where the other person's company was genuinely desirable.
As time passes, Juniper probably realises that he doesn't genuinely know much about himself or what hobbies he's into, because he never really had the time when he got big, and his home life in his youth wasn't bad, but it wasn't picturesque. I think Reggie would pick up on it, and absolutely try to introduce him to some things he's into. Some things stick, other things don't (corn husking very much stays Reggie's passion, and John will go with him sometimes because it's him, but it's not something he strongly cares for). Crane introduces him to a lot of music, and it's something that becomes a staple between them, with tracks they listen to more than others (tragically, I know relatively little about 60s music so I couldn't really say what). Occasionally they dance, never anything intense, think slow dancing, but the closeness is nice.
Through all of it, Juniper is battling the worst crush of his life, and he can't stand it, because I think he struggles to read people since he doesn't have anything like a script or a director to refer back to, so he has no idea if Reggie likes him back or if he's just desperate for that to be true. I think because of that any sort of confession between them would be incredibly raw, not only because of the time they live in making it hard for them to be truthful about how they love, but because it's a complete show of Juniper who's worked to be this better person. I don't exactly know how that would go, mainly because I don't have one set version of their dynamic, this post is just a generalisation of main consistent points.
Reggie does like him back, because he's gotten used to Juniper being just this guy, not a figure in the public eye, not a Zoraxis lackey, and not any sort of Agency operative (despite being under their care to some degree). He's someone he genuinely cares for, because they've given one another the time of day to learn one another, and I think because Reggie was a field agent, he was a lot better at reading Juniper than Juniper was at reading him. Eventually Juniper's company becomes something he could see around him for the rest of his life, and I think he accepts that he likes Juniper a lot more gracefully.
I think any affection directed at Juniper would at first be met with him feeling a little muddled. Reggie was a very physically affectionate person when he could be, and sure the initial flirting with one another came with the occasional little touches, but everything now was so deeply intentional. I also don't think Juniper would almost ever get over the novelty of being able to kiss him, or many other gestures, because it made the fact that they were together so very real, and it was great. I do think it comes easier to Reggie, and it's a big way of showing how much he cares, so it's important for Juniper to try and show it back because he knows how much it means to the other.
I like the idea of them eventually living with one another, too. I think Juniper would have always had a quiet little daydream of sorts where he does just live a domestic quiet life, and he can with Reggie (well, as close as they can get between the Agency and Zoraxis always being at odds), and he loves that, and he loves him, and it's immense.
I think they cook for one another a lot, it helps Juniper work on his dexterity in a controlled environment, which means a lot because it's a huge point of insecurity (that and his scars). He does improve, and Crane is proud of that and shows it and it's great. I also think they'd probably cook together too, because they can deal with being in the kitchen together and they work well with one another. It's probably a good way for them to unwind because over time they can do it in relative silence.
As I said before, I also think music is a staple in their household, and that Reggie listens to things on vinyl almost all of the time because he likes the background noise. Sometimes Juniper will catch him chuntering along to the music which he finds endlessly endearing. I wouldn't put it past his dramatic ass to also join in to fluster Reggie, but I also don't think Reggie would mind that terribly because Juniper has listened to the music enough to know the lyrics, and that's huge to him.
I don't think they are without rough patches, no relationship is, but I think the good part about them is that they're willing to talk about it (... eventually). They're used to long conversations, and while they're often less fun conversations, they're needed and they know that, and it works out.
Alright. I think I'm done for now. I haven't mentioned everything, but this definitely got the worst of it out of my system. If you ever want to hear any specific thoughts my ask box is open but other than that, behold my general dynamic for these two which has been festering in my head for years. I think they're great
#ty right-agent for explicitly telling me that this would be welcomed you a real one#i had a massive babble to my friend abt what if they all feed me to the hounds for speaking#and he said “girl that fandom is like 12 people big they need you to speak” and yeah that also helped#i have a hard time talking if I'm not asked/prompted to that's why i adding tags is great for me. that and i like the format#anyways.#THESE TWO.............dear lord can you tell I have been unwell abt them forever..#this is propeganda (/j) for them. btw. please you have to understand the potential here. it's so good.#it's slowburn <- my (probably) demiromantic ass cannot handle romance without a build up and this set up is perfect (it will never happen)#also i find it easier to write ANYTHING between these two from Juniper's perspective because i find it easier to get into his head#idk reggie is like the gay version of the: what is he thinking of? i could take a bear in a fight. audio ive heard.#whereas with juniper i have him trapped under a microscope#im going to tag this now so i can use the remaining tags to RANT#ieytd#john juniper#reginald crane#junicrane#starstruck#i expect you to die#<- being BRAVE!!!#when I get really excited i start getting like this internal shaking feeling and uh. yeah this rant started that#the worst part abt that is it also triggers my tourettes so like. double whammy. excited about blorbos? jail :(#but. yeah I uh. yeah. sorry this IS so long..I did warn but . AUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAHHHHHHHHHAUUUUUUAHHHHHHHHHHHHH#also i did this rant in 2 parts. last night and this morning so yeah uh. yeah.#god im so messed up about these two#make me a boat by the family crest came on while wroting this and while it's mainly a roxanix song to me......AUUUUUG.....#i struggle to find music for these sillies because they have such a specific vibe to me amd I've not quite managed to find something which -#- genuinely feels correct for them and it drives me up the WALL#GOD NIGHT SHIFT JUST CAME OF SHUFFL.....all my ieytd songs are coming out to drive me up the wall.......#FINISHED I've been adding tags as I've gone alonga#thank you for reading hope you enoyed and if you didn't im sorry
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rough rough draft of chapter 1 of the bellum x linebeck fic
Though the storm had passed and the sun finally shown upon the sea again, Linebeck felt gloomy. He leaned against his ship’s rope railings and stared at the horizon. The night before, the pounding of the rain had put him at ease. Now, the bright afternoon had brought back that familiar anxiety. After some thinking, Linebeck pushed himself away from the railing and resolved to begin his morning chores.
As the only person on his ship, it was up to Linebeck to take care of it- and he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. He knew his beloved steamship like the back of his hand, and he collected a bucket as he blinked the last of the sleep from his eyes. Firstly, he gathered seawater to dump into the engine’s storage tank. The ship was drifting at the moment, but once Linebeck would turn it on, the heat would build up in the engine and the water would boil and evaporate and build up steam to get the wheels moving.
Linebeck knelt at the lowest edge of the deck and dunked the bucket into the water for the ninth- tenth? - time. He’d have to do some extra engine maintenance before he got moving. He’d been traveling during the entire storm, likely pushing the engine to its limits. But after the water gathering, Linebeck checked the hull for barnacles and scratches, checked the railings for damaged rope, checked his food and water supplies, barely giving himself a moment of rest while he went through the familiar motions.
Since he began sailing, Linebeck’s life had been altogether monotonous and unpredictable. His ship was one he had designed himself, and knew better than anyone else how to take care of and operate it. He had no desire to take on a crew, and knew from experience that they’d only hold him back- trying to teach new people how to work his ship was incredibly tedious and often led to them making mistakes and doing more harm than good. The last bastard he’d temporarily hired and bothered to teach about his ship- Linebeck scowled and shook his head. Not even worth thinking about, now.
The storm had replenished his fresh water supply. It had been bad enough to obscure visibility across the sea, so Linebeck had done some fishing. If he cared for gods, he would have thanked one that he made it through without getting sick.
He didn’t need a crew. Linebeck hadn’t had a long-term crew member for what- seven years now? They just made him feel uneasy and he could never muster up the patience to put up with them.
Or maybe he kept finding the wrong people. That had certainly happened before. He was never particularly good with other people. Linebeck was almost certain that he’d made a good few new enemies just in the last month. His eyes scanned the horizon as he walked back out onto the deck. Linebeck tightened his grip on his mop’s handle. He was totally alone. And yet his skin prickled with unease.
“…No point worrying,” he mumbled to himself. He started mopping the deck, forcing himself to keep his eyes trained on the wood. His last chore of the morning was always the most soothing. He moved slowly and rhythmically, beginning at the prow and slowly making his way back to the cabin. His ship was small, though large enough to be comfortable for him. The deck sloped upwards a few feet from the cabin and plateaued, about a foot higher and better to accommodate the rooms and machinery beneath.
The air was warm and humid; Linebeck brushed his hair out of his face and behind his shoulders. He considered removing his coat, but he was nearly done mopping- no point in wasting the time. The heat was never a big issue for him. He was perfectly suited to the sea, and Linebeck felt more than confidant handling every aspect of this life on his own. No problems whatsoever. No good reason for the anxiety that refused to leave his mind.
Maybe there was a good reason, the same reason why he kept scanning the horizon.
Finished mopping the deck, Linebeck turned to admire it. The storm had cleaned it well enough, but now that the sky was clear he wasn’t just going to cut out part of his morning routine.
With everything done for the morning, Linebeck gathered up his mop and the bucket and moved to put them away. The bucket would be dumped out and left with other containers in the storage room, the mop left in the engine room… and then the engine would need to be started up. The nearest inhabited island was two days away (with good conditions), so while Linebeck had no need to get going right that moment, he felt safer with the engine running.
To get the engine started, Linebeck pulled a lever by the wheel up and waited a moment as he heard the hissing of steam start, and then stop. He knelt down in front of the storage tank. Enough water for the day, that was for sure. He withdrew his matchbox from a pocket in his coat and struck a match, humming idly to himself as he tossed it in the space below the water. It would only be a few minutes before the ship could get going; over the years, Linebeck had gone back and forth on the design of the engine, and managed to make it especially efficient with different materials and methods, and was quite proud of it. While the water heated up, he shut the tank door and sat back, resting a moment.
He’d gotten… some sleep last night. He’d dreamed briefly, and didn’t feel as terrible as he usually did. Some sleep. Better than no sleep at all. Linebeck laid down on the floor and stared up at the ceiling. He stared at the winding pipes at the tops of the walls and then shut his eyes. If he was lucky, he could perhaps find a few minutes to nap. Just a few minutes…
The ticking of the machinery around him slowly faded in as the engine properly started up. The sound melted into with the noise of the ocean outside, and Linebeck felt his anxieties ease. The familiarity of his daily routine eased his mind like nothing else.
The next island was north of his position… Linebeck let out a long breath. He’d have to at least position his ship facing north, and get started within the hour. He sat up and stretched. If he got started now, he could reach the island by late tomorrow. The engine was ready to go, and Linebeck smiled to himself as he fiddled with some of the smaller levers and switches, listening to the subtle changes in the ticking and clicking around him.
He paused when he heard up an unfamiliar noise. Linebeck stilled his hands, suddenly feeling cold.
Without thinking, Linebeck kicked the engine into proper operation and after a moment, the wheels on either side of the ship started turning and he quickly steered the ship in the opposite direction of that odd sound. He heard it again, from outside his ship- the unmistakable sound of cannon fire, and Linebeck was not brave enough to stop and check to see if it was aimed at him.
It was usually aimed at him, anyways.
Linebeck steered his ship away and locked the wheel in place; he felt his heart pounding in his chest as more muffled canon fire reached his ears. One sounded closer than the rest, and he managed to tear himself away from the wheel and run up to deck. Running away was nice, but he needed to know where to run away to.
It seemed like he was getting chased more and more. Linebeck figured he ought to start a list of the crews that had it out for him; that was something to do once he was safe. He stumbled out onto the deck and leaned over the rope railing, staring at the southern horizon. Sure enough, he could see a pirate ship in the distance heading his way, and the wind was in their favor.
Linebeck gripped the railings until the rope started to dig into his skin. The hell did he do to them? He recognized the decorated sails as the sails of the ship that’d been pursuing him before the storm. Their captain was one he’d cheated out of several hundred rupees in poker- or was that a different crew? No time to think it over while they got closer and closer. More cannon fire rang out, and Linebeck jumped back as the cannonball splashed into the water dangerously close to his ship.
Sailing in a straight line was a terrible idea. Better to leverage his steamship’s advantages and focus on disrupting their aim. Linebeck wildly looked around. No rocks or islands in sight. His best hope was to run for it and hope that either they’d run out of cannonballs or the wind would die down. He raced back inside.
He was just one man; why did all of these pirates decide that being slighted by him once marked him as the biggest threat to them on the entire Great Sea? Pirates were so petty. He flinched when he heard a muffled splash and felt the ship rock. Linebeck gripped the wheel tightly and started turning the ship west, his sweaty hands almost slipping off. He gritted his teeth as the cannon fire sounded closer and the ship rocked again.
The last time he’d been pursued like this, a cannonball had burnt his hull and cost him several days of sleep. Linebeck turned the ship far enough around to spy the pursuing pirates again; the moment he heard the cannon fire again, he spun the wheel to sail in the opposite direction. Turning was slow, but his ship never stopped moving. He’d had nightmares about one of the wheels being damage, and Linebeck felt weak in the knees just thinking about it.
As the pirate ship slipped out of view, the waters around his ship were more violently disrupted, and Linebeck yelped as his ship was more violently rocked by the waves. There was no cannon fire, no sound of a cannonball hitting the waves- and the water was clearly churning too violently for it to have been a cannonball. He clung to the steering wheel for dear life, his knees nearly buckling underneath him, and the cacophonous sound of an especially large wave made him wince. The ship rocked again, but still no cannon fire. Instead, Linebeck picked up a new muffled noise.
…Splintering wood?
The wood of his own ship was fine, there was no motion asides from the violent waves rocking his ship, but the distant splintering continued, and with it, faraway screams. For the second time in barely five minutes, Linebeck’s curiosity prevailed over his fear. On shaky legs he stumbled up onto his deck- slick with water that had poured onboard, and nearly fell over the railings when he reached them.
The pursuing pirate ship was being torn apart by something. Something had pulled the main mast down and split it in half, tearing through the sails and ripping the vessel in half. Linebeck squinted, hardly seeing anything that could be causing it, then caught a glimpse of what looked like a thick black rope curled around the prow, tearing it clean off and dragging it into the sea. The way those ‘ropes’ moved; Linebeck slowly slid down into a crouch as he realized that a sea monster was what was attacking that ship.
One pirate jumped from where the prow had been, likely trying to escape and swim away, but a black tentacle shot out of the water and grabbed them midair and yanked them below the water. Linebeck felt frozen to the spot, more than grateful that he wasn’t the creature’s target, but he feared that if he took advantage of the chaos and sailed away, he would be attacked next.
The pursuing ship began to sink, and the sharp cracking of wood was piercing as it reached Linebeck’s ears. The hull was torn in two, more tentacles appearing to crush them into unsalvageable wreckages. The fear that shot through Linebeck urged him to straighten back up. He started to hurry back into the engine room, but stopped in his tracks as the tentacles withdrew back into the water.
The pirate ship’s remains slowly sank, survivors clinging to any floating pieces. Linebeck stared at the water around his ship. That… thing had stopped. That sea monster that he and those pirates had the misfortune to disturb.
That sea monster- Linebeck had researched every possible hostile creature that had been seen on the Great Sea, and that certainly had to have been one of them. He grabbed onto his railing again, feeling too sick to move his gaze from the sinking ship down to the waters just below him. He stood at the end of the railing, steady on the sloping deck despite the way his limbs shook and his heart hammered in his chest.
There was a sea monster in these waters. It had just wiped out an entire pirate crew in hardly a minute. From what Linebeck could recall, that pirate crew was rather prepared and experienced, and their ship certainly wasn’t some glorified piece of driftwood. This wasn’t just an overgrown gyorg or some other typical sea monster- he was at the mercy of the kind of sea monster that had stories passed around. The kinds that endured for decades or even centuries and were either worshipped or feared. He’d never seen a regular sea monster that had those kinds of tentacles and was that quick and deadly.
One of the stranded pirates was suddenly and violently pulled under water. Linebeck lowered himself back down to a crouch, staring at the now-empty patch of water. After a few moments, a faint red hue bloomed from deep under the surface.
I’m going to die.
The thought seemed to echo in Linebeck’s head. It wasn’t a thought he was unfamiliar with, but it was much, much more frantic now than ever. He was going to drown or be eaten. Even if he got out unscathed, his ship likely wouldn’t, and that sounded just as bad as if he got injured. Linebeck shakily stared down at the water mere feet from him. Every tiny wave and ripple in the water heightened his anxiety, and his mind raced. Another pirate was pulled under the water, eaten, and the waters were still for a moment. Then, there was a subtle ripple further away from the wreckage and closer to Linebeck’s ship.
How do I get out of this?
Linebeck’s terror forced him to his feet, and he raced into his ship’s cabin. That monster was more than capable of catching up with that pirate ship, and Linebeck stumbled on his way down the stairs as his ship rocked slightly.
This monster was capable of killing and catching him with ease, and it tore apart that pirate ship with ease, and it was eating the survivors, and Linebeck was up next if he didn’t think fast. His feet brought him into his ship’s cramped kitchen, and he stood still in the doorway for a moment. His fear and quick-thinking seemed to crash into each other, and his mind went blank as he stared around. Linebeck switched his attention from his utensils to the fish he’d recently caught and had yet to clean to the cupboards. Why the hell had he run here?
The sea monster killed all of the pirates. It was probably chasing after him now. It tore apart the ship, and… ate the pirates. Ate the pirates. Linebeck stared at his recently-caught fish. There were a pair of smaller amberjacks he’d picked up during the storm, a seabass he had a few different plans for, and then a large loovar he’d been planning to sell. He suddenly felt itchy looking at that loovar. He was going to sell it. It was a large, pristine loovar, with sleek, undamaged scales and was over five feet long and took up the entire counter that fit in the narrow kitchen. It was valuable and would net him a good sum of rupees at the next island he docked at.
Linebeck’s ship rocked again, violently enough to knock him off balance. The terror finally mixed with his quick thinking and he grabbed and yanked the loovar off the counter, stumbling a moment under its weight. He slung it over his shoulder and hauled it up the stairs, his shoulder aching before he was even in the engine room. Goddesses, his coat was going to reek if he made it out of this alive.
He paused to grab his mop and tuck it into the crook of his elbow and stumbled a bit, stubbornly keeping the fish from touching the floor. The ship rocked under his feet again, and Linebeck shuddered and hurried out onto the deck. The water around his ship’s hull ripped every few moments, and Linebeck didn’t hesitate in letting the loovar drop onto the wood. He kicked it off the deck, and it fell unceremoniously into the water and floated barely a few inches from the hull- too close.
With the mop he prodded at it and sent it floating slowly away from his ship. And so, Linebeck huddled at the edge of his deck, leaning against his mop for support. For just a moment, the waters were still. The loovar bobbed on the water’s surface and the sunlight glinted off its scales. Linebeck exhaled slowly. For all he knew, the monster could have already left. He could probably grab the loovar if he was careful.
Linebeck started to reach back out with the mop, but drew it back as the water around the loovar suddenly started to ripple. The rippling grew more furious, and the water began to bubble and small waves started rushing out from around the fish- a dark shape was just barely visible deep in the water. The shape rushed to the surface, and Linebeck only got the quickest glimpse before falling backwards onto the deck as the largest waves yet set his ship violently rocking.
It was huge, easily half the size of his ship, and a stunning yellow. For the split second he saw it, Linebeck couldn’t discern any detail, but he didn’t miss the mouth full of sharp teeth that engulfed the loovar. Linebeck had fallen onto his back and didn’t dare move as the sea calmed down, the blurry image of the beast burnt into his mind. He stared up at the sky and realized that the fear in his chest had eased. Had he appeased the creature? The rocking of his ship slowly stopped, and he felt he was in no hurry to get up.
There was a slight splashing, and Linebeck jolted upright. He stared off the edge of the deck, at where the loovar had been floating. It stared back at him. The sunlight glinted off its yellow body, greenish in some spots, and golden in others. Under the water, the rest of it was just a murky shadow. In its mouth, encircled by those teeth, was an eye that stared back at him, the tiny pupil within a burning yellow and orange, surrounded by deep black. A monstrous eye, and one that Linebeck could’ve sworn he’d seen somewhere. Something about the thing’s unblinking gaze made a sense of visceral horror return to Linebeck, and before he could think it through, he scrambled to his feet.
The creature didn’t move in the water, but its eye followed his movements. Despite the hammering of his heart, Linebeck couldn’t tear his gaze away from that eye. His limbs felt locked in place, and his breathing came in in ragged gasps and he realized just how bad his situation had gotten. There was no way that loovar was enough to save him. He’d seen the way the creature had torn apart that pirate ship. He’d seen the way it had grabbed and killed those pirates. There was nothing keeping it from killing him next.
Then, without any sound but the sounds of the water, the creature sank down into the ocean and out of sight.
Linebeck immediately hurried back into his cabin, just barely remembering to snatch up his mop.
He wasted no time in getting his ship up and running again, and set a course for the island before even thinking of relaxing. Linebeck anxiously surveyed the sea as he steered the ship away, but spotted nothing out of the ordinary.
…Maybe the loovar had satisfied that… thing. Linebeck tried not to think much about it. But his nerves were still shot by the encounter, and he stiffly steered until the sun began to set.
He didn’t anchor the ship until stars glittered in the sky. Linebeck moved gingerly around his ship, half expecting that monster to return. But the evening was quiet, and Linebeck eventually felt relaxed enough after doing his rounds. He collected every book he had that mentioned sea monsters and went out on deck to read and rest.
Linebeck rested against the prow. He set the books in his lap and started flipping through each one, quickly skipping through what turned out to be a catalogue of common seafaring enemies, and finding a short collection of short stories based on powerful creatures around the world. As the sun dipped further below the horizon, Linebeck finally reached a much more informative book- one that had been gathering dust at the edge of the shelf- and flipped through more slowly, inspecting each illustration. Dragons, sentient plants, fish creatures, and Linebeck slowed down upon reaching the chapter reserved for deities. It didn’t take long for him to turn a page and find a familiar illustration.
It was little more than a collection of sketches, but that eye was unmistakable. Linebeck leaned over the book with a small spark of triumph in his heart. He was right- it was one he’d heard of before, a creature named ‘Bellum’. Apparently a powerful, demonic sea monster.
Linebeck felt a faint shiver down his spine and he sat up and stared off across the sea. He shut the book and gathered up the rest. Back in the cabin, he locked the door out, and hesitated with his hand on the knob. That nearby island was his destination, a small island with a small town that he’d been for. He needed supplies, needed to restock on food and parts and whatever else eluded him at the moment.
He double-checked the lock and silently headed down into the storage room. Linebeck left the volume with the information on Bellum on the table, and put the rest back on the bookshelf behind the thin bar that kept them from falling out.
Bellum.
Linebeck turned and stared at the book on the table. In the dim light of the few lit lanterns in the room, the book seemed almost ominous with its dark cover and elaborate spine. Where had he picked this one up? Was it one from home, or something he’d bought on a whim a while ago? Either way, it was worth reading through and taking notes on- even if the information he wanted seemed to only take up two pages.
Linebeck idly rubbed his hands together. The only indication of his lingering anxiety was the thin layer of sweat on his palms. Most sea monsters were known through shared stories and rumored sightings. Once he got all he could from the book, he could start asking around at islands. With any luck, though, he wouldn’t have to see that thing again.
#my writing#cant remember the other tag and i do NOT have time to check#uhhhhhh would greatly appreciate feedback/constructive criticism#just know that ill disregard anything related to the story bc thats set in stone- looking more for stuff with the actual prose#or a bit on how linebeck is written (he doesnt feel. anxious. enough so i will ahve to work on that)#if the formatting is fucked then idk. when i posted that warriors thing a while back it fucked up the formatting then too#tbh. not feeling as bad abt this as i wqs before giving a quick editing read through. i still think it needs some real work tho#‘with any luck though he wouldn’t have to see that thing again’ <- thoughts of a guy whos gonna fuck that thing by the end of the year#depends on your definition of fuck ig. i know whats going and i think fuck is a bit if an exaggeration but its also funny#anyways i haved mixted feelings on this but i do really want to improve it so. this aint ff.net or ao3 but id appreciate uh. replies?#whatever here its just shy of 4k words iirc#long post
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@godsunderfoot — antioch university, august 5th, afternoon. trigger warnings: religious references!
PERHAPS THE MOST ELEGANT FORM OF BEAUTY IS THE STORY. Smithed words, struck when molten, and shaped until piercing at first strike; others daintily crafted and cut gems of prose. A professional fabulist drips jeweled sentences, their carats reflected in the bright, yearning nebula of the human iris, a rapt audience caught in the splendor. As simple as it may be, this truth bears repeating: we are a species wrapped up in aesthetics, fabrics of our imagination... seeking beauty in the forms that cover the ugliness we harbor.
Many believe, quote rapaciously, that beauty — some unspoiled, earthly, carnal, tactile essence — is terror. But one is gripped by fear, horrors that subsume underneath one's skin when encountering the unfamiliar, unknown. When one believes they've never witnessed it before. Beauty is a terror when it is FOREIGN.
Maharth's fingers, ashen at the tips with the finest dust of Hagoromo chalk, underline the word terror on the blackboard. He is still a lover of the Classics and basks in Inquisitive stares following the arc of his arm as he encircles the truth. He faces their eagerness, matches with a spark of his own, and lovingly tosses in his kindling, a speech:
" How we view one's beauty becomes one's truth, one's belief in the world we live in... All religious art has a motif of untouchable beauty, the peerless perfect faces, serenity in the expression both present and empty, seeing a world that a mortal onlooker could never comprehend... "
The projector, more like a banner that floats down from the rafters, depicts Michelangelo's Last Judgment, capturing a sliver of its phenomenal flair. The professor summarizes, " Michelangelo's Last Judgment, his final painting, stirred controversy at its time. The Catholic Church was in its Counter-Reformation movement, and the Council of Trent deemed the Last Judgment's Neoplatonic influences heretical. Nudity, in fact, was the issue... I hear the snickering, students. Stay with me for a second. "
" Now, we'd think it baseless, quite prudish, no? Given the fame of the Statue of David, the Ecstasy of St. Teresa of Avila… The bodily beauty of mimicked flesh and blood, as a means of extending the greatness of its Saints to the people, was now rejected for being baseless, vulgar, and Godless. "
Maharth wonders briefly how the indictment fell on Michelangelo when the commissioners who pulled art after art from him betrayed him. Did the artist burn up in shame when the poet Pietro Aretino accused him of defiling the Sistine Chapel, of denigrating it to a whorehouse?
" That's what I want you to think about, students. Expressions of piety. What is religious beauty? What is artifice and truth? Upon completing his last painting, Michelangelo wrote, 'Neither painting nor sculpture will be able any longer to calm my soul, now turned to divine love.' What divine beauty drives a pious servant to agitation? "
His lecture ends with synchronized silence before students and some faculty onlookers remember the time and place. Then, as if coming out of a daze, they shamble out of their desks, the nooks at the edges of the room to leave. As the newest member of Antioch University's roster, Professor Chandrasekhar fields ravenous last-minute questions, chatting with the engagement of a beloved old friend who has a train to catch. It's only after the regulars dip and the field of people thins out that the professor notices someone in the midst, stately and tall even when far back in the room.
There are continuing education courses for adults at the university, so the age of the man, sculpted in rugged, well-defined features, does not illicit any curiosities from the professor; however, the lack of academic equipment (no papers, pens) hints at Maharth that the visitor may not be a simple course auditor. Well, there is no hurt in asking.
Or, there shouldn't be.
" Good afternoon! The lecture wasn't too long-winded, was it? " Maharth calls out, hand cupped around his mouth. He follows his greeting with easy, long strides to the man. Hand out, fingers loosely together, knuckles forming soft ridges like a clam's shell, he signals his invitation. " Professor Maharth Prasad Chandrasekhar. Charmed to make your acquaintance. "
#— m.p. chandrasekhar#— j. weaver (godsunderfoot)#chroniclestarter#[ btw!! please do not feel the need to match length! i just got really into setting the scene haha ]#[ also if any part of the formatting is hard to read lmk! i'll fix it up so it's easier on the eyes! ]#— threads (m.p. chandrasekhar)
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sword nights 2024, part 1
months 1-6 of this year long journey
#making collages is fun#katanagatari was originally broadcast one episode per month so I'm a fan of watching it like that#and importantly making other people watch it like that#so I've been doing monthly anime nights online with some friends#and that's been my inspiration for making these flyer/activity sheet things since we canned the tournament series#I think I'm getting pretty good at it#I found some nice scans of an old hanafuda set#hanafuda obviously also has a monthly theme so I've been using those for flavor and inspo#also figuring out how to format this post on tumblr has been weirdly headache inducing#I need to get my neocities page up and running already so I can host images however I want
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Everytime I face a new character limit on a website that didn't have them before/used to have really long ones... AUGHHhhh the modern social media world was not made for people like me (lovers of details, rambling, elaboration, thorough explanation, and nuance)
#twitter and other short form shit and everything being a Phone App On Small Screen instead of a Proper#Computer Website i feel like has just ruined the format of literally everything for me. Thoughts just keep getting more and more condensed#with detail and nuance taken away. everything over simplified into only the basics. blah blah blah. I've already probably rambled about thi#all before but it's just SO frustrating. I literally just CAN NOT talk that way!!! even if I try!!! I took multiple advanced placement#english & language arts classes in school and I literally never made below an A on any assignment EVER except for ESSAYS#where I would legit get almost failing grades just because I cannt express myself concisely. I took an english placement test thats made to#like evaluate your competency in a subject and out of the 102 multiple choice questions I only missed TWO of them. almost a perfect#score. But for the 5 open response questions (about articulating thoughts succinctly) I did not get a single one of them lol#I only got partial credit on 3. It's like I OBVIOUSLY understand the material and I know how Words Work and how to analyze and interpret#meaning and etc. etc. But it's just when I have to express myself CLEANLY I can't. It's always ''well you have very good points and you#get around to the idea eventually and I think it's very insightful - but it just needs to be shorter/the side tangent needs to be removed/#etc.'' I've always wondered if it has something to do with being on the schizophrenia spectrum and how that can cause disorganized#speech sometimes hmm..ANYWAY.. But I just naturally express myself in a very particular way which is lengthy and I can't rea#ly seem to control it. So it's basically like just.. being gradually pushed out of every place that won't accomodate people with different#ways of like perceiving and expressing or etc. Everything cannot ALWAYS be 100% 'Short and Snappy and To The Point' or a quippy one#liner or the Bare Minimum of information being provided or etc. Some peoples brains just do not work like that!!!!! Sorry I operate#in detail and elaboration lol. ANYWAY.. I still sometimes use random ''dating sites'' like OKCupid to look for platonic friends since#I never leave the house so it's hard for me to just meet friends naturally. And I just realized today that they added a RIDICULOUSLY small#character limit to their messaging system (2000 words?? augh). And also took away answer explanations (when you answer a compatibility#question you used to have a space to give detail and explain why you answered the way you did) and removed a few other features and it's ju#t like.. how the fuck is any of this actually helpful in terms of judging compatibility? take away ALL nuance and anyting that actually#is meant to tell you anything about a person? Bumble's character limits for your profile description are even more fucking insane and so#is every other disgustingly minimalistic place I've seen like.. OKC used to be superior BECAUSE it allowed for a TON of detail. like back i#2016 or something there was SO much data you could look at. long form question answers. personality trait summaries. etc. Now you have#SOO little to judge off of when evaluating compatibiility it's like. You'd have better luck just throwing a dart in a crowded street and#talking to whoever it hits. Why are people so fucking allergic to reading anything longer than 3 words and providing DETAILS!! It just seem#harder and harder to find any place to meet platonic friends where you have any amount of actual data to go off of and it isnt basically#just random 'speed dating' set up shit. AARGH. &I know 'oh just join a club& meet ppl irl' 1. erm..covid. 2.I mostly want to meet ppl#in places I'd like to move so I already know ppl when I get there. You kind of HAVE to do that online. bc I am not there yet.. WISHING for#Complexity.Com where ppl can upload full 900 page psychological files of themselves. MINIMUM profile character limit 30k words lol
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My most recents, black and white, reuploading over here ✨
My links (tip me ~ treat me)
#This is rly not what i need rn#Its hard enough embracing the inspiration i find and mustering up the courage and energy to do anything with it anyway 😅😂#But i shall persevere. Bc this blog is currently the only thing in my life that gives me purpose besides my dog. And feeding my family.#Satans knitwear#Any tips or treats would be massively appreciated right now 💕#Link is to my link tree! All my usual links provided there as well as my of#I'll use this format for now until i know whats up with my blog.#Alt pinup#Pinup girl#Pretty lingerie#White lace lingerie#Black lingerie set#My gif to you
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I'm so professional
#writers on tumblr#writeblr#writing#book formatting#medium morrows and the cameo knight#i just needed something in there for now so i could set up the page breaks on the chapters
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2x21 "crisis" really is a perfect episode
#mash#i cannot BELIEVE the plot of this episode was really it's cold and we need to snuggle for warmth#the supply line got cut off so we need communal sleepovers for Morale Reasons#it's PERFECT!#i just know frank is that kid who's like 'can we please be quiet and go to sleep'#frank thinks they're gonna get in trouble if they're too loud#i'm going to finish s2 today and i really enjoyed it overall!#i think it's stronger than s1 (understandably) and the episodes have more rewatchability#however on the other hand there episodes like for want of a boot and as you were that feel like all set up and no payoff#similarly dear dad 3 didn't really feel committed to the epistolary format and didn't do anything interesting or meaningful with it#also bc i am a person who loves spoilers and context i know what happens to henry so every passing episode i am filled with dread#that's my DAD what do you MEAN he's gonna get shot down over the sea of japan!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#also mclean stevenson is giving possibly my favourite performance. he's just Saying things by accident#not one word in his mouth has ever been there on purpose he is possessed by the spirit of your dumbest uncle#i'm still lukewarm on trapper. the vulture instinct i feel on account of him looking like buddy the elf has settled#i no longer want to tear that man to shreds out of primal rage i only wish he'd get his own plot & a more distinct personality#those are all my thoughts rn#i have to bribe myself with the Very Special Gay Episode so i can finish this cover letter#id in alt text
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TWO YEARS
TWO YEARS, ALMOST THREE, AND ONE HUNDRED FORTY-SIX PAGES AND A LITTLE OVER 90k WORDS
and I've finally, finally finished the detailed outline for my fancomic
#for context for anyone who's missed my vagueposting about this project over the many years I've been working on it#this is the second or third draft of the outline (I have. Heavily Edited this document several times hence the 2nd or 3rd)#like I had a first-draft outline that only took about a year to write#the detailed outline is basically just a proto-script w/ an action-by-action for every scene#like all I need are setting descriptions and dialogue and better formatting and it'll be a script#(or if I decide to change the project to a text-based fic--#the detailed outline is basically a shitily-written scene by scene that just needs dialogue and polish)#I do have a simplified outline that I was writing in tandem to the detailed outline so I could keep track of the scene changes easier#that's only 18 pages for the entire story's outline but again it's an Actual outline of the final story skeleton#now I can start writing the script! actually I should write the prophecy that's sort of an important plot device first like#I keep putting off writing the prophecy but it really should get written now that I'm ready to start final drafting phases#but I just finished up the epilogue outline today and holy shit like#I usually give up on projects like this and never finish them I can't believe I've made it this far#still not finished but this is better than I've ever done so I'm still happy#oracle of lore
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all my gay ass townspeople get the Line town... and the rest is for ME.
#it sets u up w this whole like actual town format nd i was like nope. we need efficiency#also sorz i took away all ur trees and beaches but at least ur all close to the hospital if u need it
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I have some plans for the month of October
#💭 — ⌗nervo rambles . ★#maybe... an event.......#with me posting fics of my own ideas that have been there since last month..#I need to start formatting#maybe close my regular reqs at the two I have#Idk events I host aren't usually successful at all but maybe this one will be#need to start setting things up over this weekend
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Not to make you miraculous post on your pony blog but I feel like Chloe deserved to at least be redeemed somewhat. Why give Zoe all the development?
Chloe should have been redeemed and she & Zoe should have shared the bee miraculous. Imagine the plotlines
#ive posted a lot about how chloe was so so so disappointing but i truly just cannot understate it enough#literally NEVER seen a show fumble that bad#like how do you set up a legitimately good and well paced story arc just to throw it away#some people told me that it was because the creator hated chloe and didnt want her to be redeemed. which like. ok fine#but then why did they go so far out of their way to give her a redemption arc. why did they do that. they just didnt have to do that#but they did it and its so weird!!!#chloe deserved better#ironically them screwing up her storyline so bad made me care about her ten times more than i did before#i havent seen season 5 so again. no spoilers or whatever for that#but just what ive seen of zoe so far im like. man she is boring as hell. they really really really needed Chloe to be the edge of the group#she is truly the missing component#miraculous ladybug#not art#i love putting the meat of the post into the tags. good format#i still have so many miraculous thoughts lol
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my beautiful personal experience with anne rice that im always like haha ok new book ^-^ the last one kind of sucked a decent amount for most of the book but the ending was cool. cant wait to start the next one, sure hope its not anything bad!! and then shes like sneaking behind me with a comically large sledgehammer on my head that is labelled "the beginning will suck heavily". and it keeps happening to me.
#twist rambles#vc posting#1. my fucking epub reader on desktop sucks compared to my one ive been using so im having to do a really bad set up but i survive.#2. the fucking horrors christ alive. i cannot express enough how like actually horrible b&g is starting. she wants me DEAD. she hates me#wanting to reach atlantis instead of dnfing every single book in this goddamn series. in other news i need to actually watch the full#les.tat the musical performance... ive had the soundtrack on loop but am so bad at paying attention to smth for 2.5 hours...but i gotta#watch it bc itll make me remember how good tvl was. and how bad these books are rn. lol. anyways we persist and we survive and we kill#marius with many hammers to survive ok. even if you dont know who he is. kill him with me ok. anyways god sorry im sooo :/ abt the#formatting changes on pc like my laptop screen is too big after weeks of not using it?? its weird lmao. but yeah we persist and survive and#if anyone can get thru the like 720 pages i have coming up it is ME. ok <3
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