#i swear i have all these profound points to make and do all this grand introspection but it never sticks!

[tenderestgem]

🤔

[clarissalance]

Who has the upper hand?

Pairing: Kaeya x G/N!Reader, mention of Varka and Diluc.

Warning: Slight swearing, Kaeya is a lil shit, reader being stubborn and scheming, immense tension

Summary: You’re so terrible at swordsmanship that you can’t withstand 2 strikes from Kaeya or, are you? 

Word count: 3k5

Disclaimer: What is written in here is based on my imagination, nothing from this fic should be taken seriously. Most of the fact I put in this fic does not follow the lore of the game so it should only be taken as a grain of salt. For example: section 8 in Knight of Favonius codebook.

A/N: I struggle so much when I wrote this piece. This was suppose to be angstier but I tone down a little bit (because Kaeya was very OOC in my draft, I think he’s still a bit OOC in this fic but I tried my best ;-;, pls don’t bite me.) 

How did author write a 50k+ oneshot? I can’t write something more than 5k properly ;-; Anyhow, please enjoy this fic. I’m going to have a good rest for 2 weeks before release a comeback. Please shower Kaeya and our new MC with a lot of loves!!!! 

As a strategist of the knight of Favonius, you don't usually have enough time to finish the towers of reports, the never-ending meetings and dealing with cheap tricks Fatui diplomats. Often, you have to skip your daily sword training session, which results in a rather miserable situation. The whole practice ground is staring holes at your defeated posture. You are sitting on the hard soil ground, and the Calvary captain is towering you, his sharp blade just a few inches away from your throat. 

It is not a strange scene for any knights to lose a spar against the Calvary captain, he should be one with the best swordsmanship after Grand Master, and maybe Acting-Grand Master, too. However, as knight, they can usually withstand him at least more than 2 blows. 

Whispers and talks start to circulate around as soon as you stepped your foot in the training ground. It’s very uncommon to see people from that department wandering around this area. The strategy department is famous inside the Knight of Favonius to be the weakling-cunning-mouthy-jerks, who always find excuses after excuses to skip the monthly knight evaluation. 

So, who gives them the right to be exempt from the test? Of course, it’s from the ultimate high chief of strategy department. Rumours say before the strategy chief works for the Favonius knight, the man was once a legendary attorney. That person can flip words from black to white, turns the defendant from guilty to innocent.  With a profound convincing skillset coming from the chief, persuading the Grand Master Varka is easy as a piece of cake. The whole department of 10 people is easily off-hook for 3 years, never participate in the monthly evaluation before the man suddenly dropped the bomb 2 days ago.  

“ I’m tired from coming with excuses to cover for your lazy asses.” The man waved his hand, his eyes staring outside the window. His nails scratching the messy shaved chin.“ Varka seems to get used to navigating my thoughts-”

“Maybe time is wearing away your skill-” At the corner, someone accidentally blurted out, and the whole table gave him a sharp look. Did he have a death wish or something? If so, everyone here can happily dig him a hole, free charge for the coffin.

The chief cleared his voice again, blue eyes melancholy drifted to the table. “So, you guys have tried your best on this monthly evaluation. I hope to see you all again next month.” 

The meeting was dismissed afterwards, and everything spiralled into chaos. The whole department hasn’t touched anything aside from the parchment papers and the quills in the last 3 years. How are they going to master the swordman-ship in 2 weeks? 

But, the worst thing is,

Your well-respected, talented, and tactful chief has run away. 

The next morning, you received the news that a foxy old man is on a business trip to Fontaine with the Grand Master. The expedition is 2 weeks long.

You should have known what he meant when the deceitful man ambiguously ended his sentence like that. Nothing goes well when the chief said:  ‘Farewell, my comrades’. 

 For the last 2 days, you have been starting to familiarize yourself again with how to hold a sword and how to swing the sword. 

As you trail along with the long-forgotten memories, trying to look through the familiar feeling when swinging the sword, you hear footsteps coming in your direction. It is familiar, with the way the person is walking, the beat, the sudden burst of noise in the air, you can only conclude it’s the Calvary Captain. The practice ground seems livelier as soon as the man steps inside, people rushing to his side to give their greetings. Maybe today is one of his practice days.

 “ Never thought I would see you here.” The young man calls out, successfully jostle you up from your thoughts. You give him a complex look and turn away, focusing on the tattered dummies. Your wrist is screaming in protest, legs wobbling. You remember those golden days when you were young when you were flexible, and your bones didn't crack as much. Oh, where the golden days have gone? 

“What do I own the honour of seeing you here, captain?” You fold your arm defensively, voice monotonously. Kaeya despites the most when you start talking in an emotionless tone. Oh, how you love riling him up in the middle of the practice ground! 

“ I come here for my weekly practice, but-” He shrugs, eyes glinting with mischief. “ look like the rumour about the abolishment of special permission for the strategy department is true.” 

So he has heard the rumours. You roll your eyes, face blanks. You know Kaeya has his own way to obtain his information, but you never thought it’d be this fast. Words don’t easily leak from the strategy department. 

“What do you need? Make it short, so I can practice for the upcoming evaluation.” Tired of his long introduction, you ask him directly. If you are going to ignore him any longer, the man will continue poking you. 

Starting an argument only wastes your time, and asserting dominance in the middle of the training ground won’t boost your ego. You’re a strategist, your weapons are detailed plans and sharp word, not sword and bow. Showing off your strength in front of those ruthless knights don't improve your relationship with them. 

“ Straight the point eh?” You give him an impatiently look, tempting to ignore him again before he flashes you a smug grin. “How bout sparing with me?”  

The whole training ground falls in silence, and you direct at the captain a confusing look. Is he serious? No one in the knight except the Grand Master can go against him, not to mention someone who hasn’t touched a sword for three years. 

“I can help you with your training, and you can help with mine” Kaeya speaks with utmost confidence that you almost nod and agree. That man is really deceitful, he knows how well your skill has gone dull, yet he still wants to practice with you? What is this man plotting?  

“ Do you realize how absurd your offer is? ” You give him a complicated gaze, voice unwavering. Everyone takes in a deep breath, tension crackling. It's not everyday scenery you often encounter. A heated argument between the mischievous cavalry captain and the tactful strategist. Nosy people gather around the pair, internally hoping for the war the breaks out. 

“ You know well that I can’t properly block your first strike.” Light-hearted, you joke, but there is no hint of amusement in your voice. Sharpe eyes glaring at the blue figure, you notice the man remains unfazed. 

" Shouldn't you choose a more competent opponent?" 

The sound whispers and talking about the reasons why Kaeya picked such an easy opponent start to circulate, and you can’t help to curl your lips up. Within a  few seconds, you have effortlessly turned the gossiping direction toward your desired path. Flashing Kaeya a victorious grin, you tap your foot impatiently, waiting for his reaction.

You should have worked at PR damage control or marketing instead! The diplomat would have been fine too! At least, you wouldn’t need to practice swordman-ship.

As you mulling on your terrible choice of career, a chill runs down your spine. Tilting up, Kaeya is beaming sweetly at you, the frost slowly creeping up and nipping your shoes. Look like you just pressed the wrong button. 

The man narrows his eyes, and you gulp nervously, avoiding his calculating gaze. Kaeya chuckles, his voice laced with worry, wavering and hurtful. 

“I just want to help you improve as fast as possible. The test is coming in two weeks isn't it?” 

The whole table has turned, and people start to say how considerate and thoughtful the cavalry captain is. The crowd starts to criticize you and tell you to be more grateful and stop suspicious of his unconditional help. Oh, you wish he wasting it on you, many knights in this training ground would love getting advice and improvements from him. 

Applause for our dear Calvary captain, smoothly seeking empathy from the crowd and turning the favour back to him. No wonder how fast he climbed up the rank. 

Bantering and arguing with a person like him is meaningless, so you accept his offer and drag your sword toward his direction. Let finish this within 2 strikes. 

Moving to the centre of the field, both of you face each other, his eyes scanning you sceptically. What is this man plotting again? Bowing, you finally give him a warning look before standing at your ready position. Kaeya holds his sword, analyzing your starting posture. 

As soon as the whistle blows, you charge at the man, opening the spar with a direct hit. Kaeya quickly raises his word up to block the first blow, the sound of steel clashing loudly. He then forcefully diverts the sword to the left, a classic way to counter the strike. 

Knowing your limited strength against him, you take a step back and swiftly angle the blade downward, aiming for a weak spot at his waist. This move would create a noticeable weakness on your right, and only the idiot doesn't use this as his advantage to disarm you. 

You’re right, he uses the loophole you planned, successfully disarm you within 2 strikes. The sword slips from your hand clanging loudly behind as your foot slips and fall on the ground. 

His sharp blade is just a few inches away from your neck. The calvary captain wears a solemn look, his cerulean eyes imbued with irritation. Seems like he figures out you purposefully planed to end the match in 2 strikes. 

Quickly raising your hand in defeat, you shoot him a taunting grin. The referee declares Kaeya is the winner, and people start to clap and cheer loudly, but overall no one is surprised. As the match end, audiences start to disperse, return back to their tasks. 

Kaeya put his sword away and offers you his hand. You stare idly at the gloved hand a moment before putting yours on. The man effortlessly pulls you up, your body flush against his. With Kaeya so close to you, your first reaction is to push the man away, but his firm grip says otherwise. He inches closer, dark blue locks brush your cheek, tall figure towering you intimidating. 

“Why end it so early?” He leans down and whispers, your body tenses up visibly. “Surely, you could handle more than 2 strikes of mine.” The young man in blue hums, his voice sultry. 

“ What are you saying? I haven’t touched the sword more than 3 years.” You remind him, hands pushing his chest away, trying to create some distance. The man doesn’t budge an inch. 

“Your strikes doesn’t say so. The first strike was not bad.” Noticing your effort to push him away, Kaeya stands straight, heels dig into the ground. His lips curl up at the helplessness flashing in your eyes. He loves seeing you struggle, seeing how anxiety and desperation rising in your sparkling orbs. “I think you could at least have a decent fight with me.”  

“ Quit spouting non-sense Kaeya, let me go. We are in public.” You let out an annoyed hiss, punching his toned chest. He still wears the uniform improperly like that, the exposed tan chest can be under many layers. Sometimes you don't even know the reason why doesn't he just button the shirt up properly. Finger grazing at the bared skin on his chest, you turn your head away, cheeks heat up. 

The man loves seeing you squirming in his trap, and you’re not going to let him see that. Anything, but satisfying his masochist hobby. 

“You don’t like skin-ship?” The man fakes a gasp, his orb sparkles with mirth. “But you were being touchy with your friend. Why can't we be a bit touchy? ”  His tone suggestively, the tall man snickers at your blushing mess. Out of everything, why would he mention that? You give him stinky eyes, brows furrow deeply.  

“I’m not touchy with you.” You deny dreadfully. Archon, how long have you wasted your time here with this slithering serpent? 

Kaeya arms wrap tightly around you, your body moulds perfectly into his embrace. You hate how perfectly you fit into his hug like this, but you can’t deny how warm he is, despite the fact he wields cryo. 

“ When will you let me go?” Your voice starts to grow weak, dragging slightly in discomfort.  Kaeya curiously looks down, noticing your pouting. Sensing his gaze, you turn your head away but his fingers have quickly grabbed your cheek, forcing you to look at his deep blue eye.  

“Give me a kiss, then I'd let you go.” His voice serious, but what he just said is not. You look at the cryo wielder horrendously, mouth gaping. His face is composed and relax, like what he just ask is like asking about the weather, asking about your health, not for a kiss. Is he being serious? What in the world did he just ask? A kiss? Excuse me, a what? 

“You...you are not being serious.” You wriggle your way out, escaping from his fingers, but his embrace tightens, caging you inside. Damn it, Kaeya. He’s messing with you. 

When you flash him a furious look, the man shrugs nonchalantly, his cerulean lock fluttering gently in the wind. Suddenly, you have an urge to wipe off that calm demeanour. He can’t be serious. Why does he have to go all the way to annoy the shit out of you? 

The smug grin hanging on his face, the mischief in his blue eyes, the arching brows, everything about him screams a flirt, yet you feel so mesmerized. Blinking a few times, you have to constantly remind yourself this man is not trustworthy. From the attitude to the way he looks at you, to the way he acts around you. Nothing from his action is truthful. Like Diluc’s warning, you can only believe half of his word and action. 

“ Of course I’m being serious.” His voice solemn, but you can see the amusement in his eyes. If he doesn’t like you, why would he spend so much effort bothering you this much? What reaction is he expecting from you?  

“ I really like you, Y/N” Kaeya confesses cheerfully, and you can faintly hear a few gasps around. Not this again...

Archon, you’re going to die early at this rate. You just want to practice for the upcoming evaluation, not becoming a hot topic for all Mondstadt citizen to gossip about. 

And this man too, how can he easily slip out those words when you just heard him flirting with another woman the other day?  You already told him numerous times that you’re not interested in dating him, or anyone right now! 

Hung your head down in exhaustion, you tap his shoulder, mumbling quietly. “ Fine, fine.” You finally open your mouth, too exhausted and bothered by his stubbornness. He only wants a kiss, and you won’t hurt giving him one. Just a kiss then you can get back to your practice.  

“Just don’t confess your love to me in a crowd like this again.” Before closing the deal, you weakly add a bargain, nudging him.  

The calvary captain looks surprised, his eye widens little, not expecting you to agree. Normally, it takes another argument or two before you comply with his request. Kaeya timidly raises his gloved hand to your face, gently caresses your cheek. This time, you lean into his touch, nuzzling your face into his palm, eyes glimmering softly. Despite a cryo wielder, his hand is surprisingly warm. 

The man in blue curiously peeks at you, he feels like a feather tickling the itchy spot. Are you plotting an escape route? Since when did you become so obedient? He has never seen the soft fur under the spiky façade you set up to face with the world, but strangely, he likes this version of you more. 

Noticing his relaxed stance, you carefully gently wrap your fingers around his wrist while keeping eye contact with him. Kaeya eye widens, startles at your sudden touching. Trying your best to not break the unspoken connection, you bring his hand away from your cheek. In those cerulean eyes, you see a hint of disappointment, but it quickly dissolves. Slowly, you draw closer toward the hand hanging in the air, lips fluttering on the smooth skin on his wrist. 

The calvary captain instinctively moves back, trying to escape from your sudden contact. Ironic, he is the one who innates the hug and demands a kiss from you. Tightening your grip, you press your wet lips on the exposed part of his wrist dedicatedly while maintaining eye contact with him, eyes drown with submission.

Kaeya stares at you in awe, maybe not expecting the passionate look in your eyes. His azure eye fills with mischief, now replaces with confusion and hesitation. You notice how his ears have dusted with pink despite the winds blowing in the practice ground. The man avoids your eyes, flustering. 

Whispers and gasps start to remind you of the crushing reality, so you let his hand down while grinning cheekily at the cryo wielder. Poking and breaking Kaeya meticulously façade is always something you want to try. The man is a living devil, so it’s extremely unusual to see him losing his composure. 

Sneakily, you untangle his other arm wrapping around your waist, plotting an escape route. 

However, Barbatos doesn’t let you slip away that easily. Quickly regaining his composure, Kaeya snakes his hand around your hip again, tightening his hold. Unlike the first time, the sneaky bastard lifts you up and has the audacity to throw your body on his shoulder, carry you like a sack. 

“ Yah! What are you doing?” You exclaim, fluster at his sudden antic. Kicking and punching on his shoulder, you try as many as you can, but somehow, Kaeya manages to dodge all of them.   

“ You said you will let me go when I give you a kiss!” The crowd uproars, stares and gossips poke pointedly at your back. You don’t want to hear those comments from those knights again. They're not going to let this live down, aren't they? Bury your face in the Kaeya's furry collar, you let out a frustrating sigh, punching his shoulder as hard as you can. 

“ You give me a kiss on my wrist. That doesn’t count.” Kaeya nonchalantly strides away from the practice ground, unfazed by your attempt to escape. This man is a beast, how can he not budge an inch with all of your kickings on his shoulder? 

“ You didn’t specify the place. A kiss is a kiss!” You emphasize, and you can feel his shoulder shaking. Is he laughing? “You didn’t keep your promise.” Fuels by the rising anger, you kick your leg aggressively, struggling to free yourself from the iron-clad grip. This time, his strong arm wraps around your calves like a chain.  

As soon as you raise your head up, the familiar pathway hits your memories. Shit, he is heading toward the headquarter, likely to his office. You can’t let anyone in there see you in this state. Punching his back profusely, you shot back. 

“Not fulfilling the contract is breaking the Knight of Favonius's code of cond-.” Before you can finish your sentence, the man smacks your calves loudly, successfully shutting your mouth. Speechless by his sudden punishment, you let out a disbelief breath.    

“ There are no such a section states about fulfilling contract inside the code of conduct, so stop making the rule up.” Kaeya smugly grins, and you can already picture his blue eyes glinting with mischief, the signature shit-eating grin on his handsome face.

" There is, it's in section eight-" Before you can finish your sentence, Kaeya cuts in, waving his hand dismissively. 

" Section eight is about interaction with your co-worker, there is none about keeping contracts." The calvary captain humming, trying to recalling the content of the book. Speechless by the detailed memories of his, you can only close your mouth, quietly waiting for him to drop you down. If you stay still on his shoulder, will he let you go? 

" You know, not everyone reads and memories the knight of Favonius handbook, you are just unlucky that I know the book by heart." Seeing you deflate weakly on his shoulder, Kaeya lets out a chuckle, patting your head comforting.       

Before heading inside the HQ, the man doesn't drop your down but leans in closely, his whisper tickling your ear. “But at least I had fun seeing you squirming in my grasp.” 

And then it hits you, the bastard purposely falls for of your antic. 

[life-rewritten]

Fish Upon the Sky Episode 1-7 (The Problems with Walls; An analysis on Duen and Pi)

I swear, if I could just settle down, stop running away and actually analyse FUTS the way I usually do. I would have so many essays by now on how authentic and deep this show can get with some of its characterisations. As I  write this FUTS essay that has constantly been plaguing me and making me frustrated that no one else is seeing these themes, I realise again sadly how this director has sadly failed to show the vision of what he wanted for the series.  An essay on how DuenMeen and MorkPi mirror each other so much with their themes, it sounds crazy to think that they do because their storylines on the surface seem different at times. Still, also their love interests act differently towards them, and they have different dynamics with them. But that's what's so great about meta and mirroring in TV, especially in shows that aren't meant to be seen as deep or purposely filled with hints and clues to break down. Fish upon the Sky is one of those shows. It struggles to find a balance between wanting to be more profound and showing exciting themes vs pleasing and appealing to the audience, using humour and other exaggerated performances/narratives to do so. However, the writer of Fish upon the sky novel has always had her works struggle with these issues and themes. Jittirain always writes emotional stories about unrequited love, with different lessons, ideas, or characterisations that people fail to understand or truly value because the meta/depth of their personalities is hidden or misunderstood by their own directors. This is what happened in  2gether; this is what also happened in Theory of Love.

A Misunderstood Duo

In order to really understand how grand the narrative the show is failing to truly flesh out is, you need to understand that Pi and Duen (the two main characters of the show) are the narrators of both their own stories. Pi's is Fish upon the sky whilst Duen is Leech upon the sky (😂😂) but what's great is that you can already see the mirroring/similarities just by their titles. Even though their insecurities and worries seem different, it's the same theme for them;  both struggle with love because they secretly have a lot of self-deprecation and hesitancy from how people have treated them. It's not as noticeable when you see Duen's characterisation/storyline, but if you truly focus on the themes of his narrative without being distracted by the loud comedic routine he has, you'd see that his biggest insecurity, that he tries to be defensive and act like he doesn't care about is his dumbness. He genuinely feels weaker/inferior because he's known as being dumb to everyone around him. He struggles to process anything that is complex and requires more depth or thought.  It's played for laughs because he relishes in the idea that people feel exasperated by his actions. He acts like he doesn't get bothered by how people perceive him because he's still seen as socially acceptable, unlike Pi, who's actually bullied and alienated from society because of his own 'flaws'.

But you can see that it's all a façade when it comes to Duen, just like with how Pi handles his own insecurities and trauma to do with his perceived flaws. It's why Duen chooses to lie to Meen that he's a dentist. He didn't want him to see him the same way others do. This already should show that he doesn't actually enjoy being seen as dumb, but he has walls up to make it seem like he doesn't care. He knows he's constantly being compared to others, but he can't change who he is (just like Pi didn't also want to change how he looked or acted to please people at first). So he jokes and tries to see a positive in being that way; he starts to want to slack off and cheat off others when it comes to work. He stops taking University seriously and repeats classes constantly because he always fails. That is until Meen shows up, and then he starts to want Meen to believe he's something more. Why?

But in case I haven't repeated it enough, Duen is like Pi, whose insecurity is easier to see since we watched him get attacked and bullied for it immediately in the first episode. It's Pi's true thoughts and opinions we see in the show as the audience, whilst Duen's story is hidden with comic relief and unseriousness. They both try to act like they're okay with what they are being judged by in society. Thus, they act confident, they're both loud, they're selfish, acting like they don't care how people see them. Preventing others from getting to hurt them by making it look like they are in control of what they have and use that to their own advantage with others.

They both stay heavily in denial about their true feelings in general, but primarily with the critical focus; the people who make them question everything about their flaws that come into their life and frighten them the most. The ones that break down those facades; make them automatically want to run away whilst being unable to stop showing and escaping their true feelings whenever they're in their presence.

The Use of Humour and Sarcasm 

So what we end up with is a narrative with two incredibly annoying and flawed characters who are seen in the audience as exaggerated caricatures for comic relief and shallow storytelling. And it's brilliant because both their unlikable/loud, selfish personalities are just fake walls built, so they don't crumble and get affected by how society views them or wants them to act. So you see, there's the issue that people keep misunderstanding about these two stories, especially about these two brothers. They're realistic; they're flawed because they've been affected by society and the environment around them. They're acting like how anyone who's been hurt before would act, they have built up walls, and they've decided to just stay by themselves and let that guide them in everything. They deal with their issues with sarcasm and humour to reduce the seriousness of the situation, so they don't appear weak or let anything hurt them.  

That's why I love this narrative of FUTS, it's meta and more profound than people think, but because the director doesn't do the best to show it, it can get lost in all the exaggerated humour. For example, with Pi, because he's socially anxious and always overthinks how people think of him (due to his past experiences of being abused and hurt by being ignorant of how people thought of him), his world is wildly exaggerated in his head. The way he narrates the story is played for laughs and is a very telling and realistic representation of how overthinking is expressed in his mind; it's overdone, loud and nonsensical at times. That's what social anxiety does; it makes you cry about one stare, one laugh, one action someone does, it makes you panic over the most minor things, and Pi does that with panic and boisterous, sarcastic humour from the start of the show.

Hence his story also has exaggerated humour because he deals with his issues with that fake jokes and sarcasm. So the show also exaggerated humour too when we are in his perspective.  This is actually similar to Duen's breaking the 4th wall narrative style of his storyline. As with Duen, whose narrator of his story mocks and laughs at his actions ironically. When really that is just literally himself fighting with his inner voice about his true feelings about Meen. He breaks the 4th wall because he's internalising his own emotions and dealing with them as a skit; the narrator is his true self ridiculing him for not accepting that he has feelings for Meen and that he's not as bright/cool as he thinks he is. So if we understand this and notice that the narrator makes fun of him constantly and jokes about his actions, you'll realise that Duen sees himself that way too; he sees himself as a joke. He doesn't see himself as suave and carefree; he actually mocks himself internally for being dumb and being gross.

Pi: The Need for Protection and Avoidance 

So already, just from breaking it down with this point of view, Duen and Pi mirror each other so well, and their narratives because of this focus on the same themes and ideas of self-discovery. Both are flawed characters with a lot of vulnerabilities and pain that they refuse to deal with properly. An id ego defence mechanism catalysed because of their past experiences and protection of their mental space. They both stay in denial, hurting who they love by refusing to let them get to see them without the walls down and more. Pi hates that he loses control with Mork and refuses to let Mork have his heart because he believes Mork is too good for someone like him secretly.  He knows he'll be the one damaged. Hence the choice to intentionally misinterpret his brother's metaphor on the vaccine analogy and view it as the complication with getting with Mork. Let me try and use this to break down his mindset with why he chose to still choose Nan even though he knows (he does know) that he wants to be with Mork romantically. Listen to the analogy his brother uses. He mentions the iatrogenic vaccine, a vaccine intended for a patient that starts helping the patient be well but actually causes more harm than good. The end result is because of the incompatibility of the vaccine and the time it takes for those results to show up in the patient and make their lives affected in a negative conclusion.

 A vaccine ironically is meant to be an antidote, something that saves people, that helps and makes them feel better. And that's what Mork says he wants to be for Pi, it's romantic, but once his brother announces a different version of a vaccine, Pi jumps with that analogy and believes that's the truth about Mork and him that makes sense to him, than seeing it positively. So with this analogy, we can break it down this way:

The Iatrogenic vaccine was too different and incompatible with the patient. Which is what Pi believes about Mork. Remember, Pi doesn't think  (because of what people have told him) that he deserves loyalty and love from people better looking/capable than him. He sees Mork in this light from the start; he views Mork as a rival because Mork is good looking, popular, strong and cool, basically things that are not associated with Pi to others.  So Mork and him are incompatible in Pi's mind.  This is why Pi constantly asks Mork why he wants to be close to him. He just doesn't understand it.  

Second, the Iatrogenic vaccine starts off good but causes damages in an irreparable way to the patient. It's the patient that ends up being affected by this vaccine interaction, not the vaccine that caused it. Before Wan starts this vaccine conversation, he discusses how people around his hospital are patients primarily because of heartbreak; they come in with damaged mindsets, broken hearts and self-harming injuries because of being hurt by love and letting themselves be vulnerable to that. All Pi hears is people hurt themselves over the pain of heartbreak and being abandoned. That's the complication if he does finally trust Mork. Especially after Mork and him get to be close, it'd be just like with everyone who has gotten to know him in the past, who stayed by his side as 'friends', once they learnt about him, what they said is that he wasn't worth being loyal to. So many people used and deserted him, and it almost broke him. This is why Pi grow the walls he has now. Even though Pi is chasing after Nan, he's not expecting an answer from Nan that's positive; Nan is a fantasy, something he can use as a goal to want to keep chasing and distracting himself from that singleness and loneliness he felt at the start of the show. This is why he's doing all of this; he just wants a distraction from the mess of his life. But to Pi, Mork? Mork is real. He's serious; he's someone who Pi actually truly will be damaged by if he's hurt and left by him; he's someone who Pi truly loves and is real to Pi, it's terrifying, and so he rather just avoid that because of the risk of a complication. To be that patient tricked by the vaccine and left to deal with those consequences all alone? Yeh, no, he can't do that.  Pi sees him as a friend and doesn’t want to end that because that's the first thing in a while that has made him feel actually happy being himself and accepted. Being friends with Mork makes him feel safe. So again, it's selfish, but it’s all about him preserving what he already has with Mork rather than damaging it.

Those complications are exactly that result if he lets Mork in romantically and Mork sees his true self and leaves like everyone; it’s not Mork who’d be hurt. It’s Pi who’d have nothing more to believe in if he lets himself be that vulnerable. Again Pi is thinking with his head when it comes to Mork; there’s a massive risk if someone takes the wrong vaccine, that person is damaged because of it. Pis journey with Mork is the same thought process that friends to lovers have. The fear of losing each other if they cross that line, of taking things too far and ruining the foundation they had that made them safe. The fear of the love being false as it always has been from others.  Pi thinks he likes Mork because how can he not? However, Mork is always there, making it hard for him to think. He associates Mork with niceness and protectiveness, but that doesn’t mean he has to accept him romantically, and Mork sees right through him and is fond of breaking down those walls he put so high up to ensure he doesn't get hurt again. Mork is the one pushing Pi further away from him the more he clings because Pi doesn’t like losing control. Same as Duen. And Mork doesn’t let him just figure it out without manipulating everything; the more he does that, the more Pi feels manipulated and tricked into wanting Mork as a partner, and that's too scary for Pi. This is why it’ll be massive when he finds out who Mork truly is on his phone as the guy from nearby faculty.

Duen: The Need for Nonchalance and Ignorance

Duen is the inversion with his storyline; he tries to look cool and better to Meen,  refusing Meen to see him when he's worried, anxious or insecure because he himself shuts off those emotions whenever Meen triggers them. He doesn't want to face the truth, that he hates being seen as dumb and not being seen as a hero to Meen. He lies to Meen because he's trying to keep him by his side without actually letting him see his true self. After all, if he does, he also may judge or leave him too (guess what same as Pi's worries with Mork. Mirroring!).  Duen tries to act unaffected just like Pi does with Mork because again, they both know once they break down and give in, there's no turning back, they will be exposed, and the' truth' about them (which they believe and see about themselves) will push the people they truly want by their sides away.

So instead, they grapple for control by faking lack of care and feelings for their partner; they refuse to apologise quickly and refuse to give in easily to them to further their relationships, increase their trust and let them in. They refuse to let go of their fake personas and fake masks and walls they've built and try hard to hold onto the facade, which hurts Meen and Mork in the end. They both push and pull and show signs of vulnerability and romance only when they're alone with no one else around (like the tent scene with MeenDuen and the after school night scene with MorkPi outside). They show worry, devotion, and they show that they want them by their side. And these are the moments when we actually get to truly see who they are without their walls, their fake personas unshed, and their niceness, their care and protectiveness over them exposed.

Wan: The Comparison and Norm

When we're first introduced to the show, Wan is mentioned almost immediately as we see Pi's struggles. Because of Wan's reputation, people choose to crowd around Pi, and it's sad, but I also think Duen also had this same issue, just a bit different. With Pi, it's about his outer appearance, his beauty standards vs society's. It's exposed to him he lacks those, but it's his intelligence similar to Wan that makes people stay by his side at first.  He also studies dentistry as Wan studied Medicine, viewed by societal standards as impressive and praiseworthy. Pi is used by people who want to both get to Wan and want to profit from his brain and abilities. Duen is the inverted version of this; he is seen as handsome and cool and aloof, a bit messy, but the reason why Meen first leaches onto him is his street smarts and survival skills with social interactions, he knows the right people, he is seen as cool by others including Pi, but he's also seen as dumb. He's failed repeatedly, unlike his brothers at trying to obtain a degree.  So he has the outer appearance but lacks the next valuable thing in society's opinion; brains and the ability to increase your status by your talents and skills. Duen lacks that; he doesn't have any specific things about himself that he can fully be proud of. He's not highly talented, he's not intelligent, and he's also not viewed by women as extremely attractive or awe-worthy. He nonchalantly takes on this persona; he chooses to block any worries about things being serious because he lacks the smarts to think of things deeply or ponder about life's questions.

He's insecure, however, about this, and you see it when he tries to join in with Wan and Pi when they discuss vaccines and love. As Pi transforms for Nan, his lie is that he's well of without other people in his life like Mork; he pretends he's okay being seen as loud, not friendly, selfish etc.  Duen's own lie to Meen is that he is a version of Wan, of what people think Wan is; intelligent, put together and reliable. Because what Duen wants from Meen all the time (he doesn't realise he already has this devotion from Meen for just being himself when he's not trying) is for Meen to want to rely on him since that's precisely what Meen keeps telling him he likes about him, or wants to learn from him; street smarts etc. Duen likes being seen as a protector, a hero, a helper etc., to Meen. And that's why he stays adamant with his lie and refuses to let Meen truly see him below the surface.

Like Pi, he also doesn't want to admit what he knows and has fought to accept, which is, he loves Meen and wants him by his side. It's the fear of losing what he has with Meen that makes him do what he does, which is the same reason Pi also keeps rejecting Mork; it's the fear of losing him. And that's the ironic thing about Pi and Duen, they're ironically trying to preserve what they love, but because of scars, insecurities and walls, they're hurting the ones they love by just refusing to be their authentic selves. It's ironic because they think being themselves is the worst option. Yet, on the surface, they act like they're fine with who they are, they're loud about being carefree of what others think of them, they're okay if these two leave them, but in reality, their worst fears are admitting that they agree with what people see in them as flaws, that they also hate themselves for that. That's heartbreaking because they fought so hard to keep loving themselves, to keep believing in their worth, but society made them genuinely think that they're wrong. And it's painful but realistic.

Again they're all similar and mirror each other. I just want people to understand that FUTS is a deep show; I know the director doesn't do the best job with what he's been trying to show, but it is deep; there is thought at times put to it in the profound moments. In the moments where both Pi and Duen aren't being fake and are their true selves, you'll notice that the jokes and humour slowly reduce whenever they are true; the narrator also reduces for Duen because he doesn't struggle as much with his feelings for Meen like he did at the first time. All the stuff that happens in the show is on purpose, even if done messily and poorly. People love to hate on the show. It has a lot of flaws, I know, but it's not the worst thing; it has deep characters that are incredibly flawed and hurt (even Mork, who we still hope will get to understand his story) it has people that act one way on the surface but hold deep scars and pains below whilst wearing a mask. The characters are unlikable because they are realistic to how people with self-sabotaging habits and deprecation act. That's why I like this show. And I'm sad I wasn't writing out more all about the meta and moments I've enjoyed so far. Anyway, I'm grateful this show has been shown this year; it definitely made me ponder my own ideas about how I view myself and if I have walls up around the people I love. I think many people do relate to Pi or Duen somehow, and it's unfortunate that the director doesn't help us feel the same way about the narrative when it's actually a great BL story to unravel and watch.

[cablesscutie]

34. “I just want to be there for you.” Zutara, For the fluff prompt list please ☺️

Hello!! You sent me this a very long time ago and then my brain was bad and ground to a screeching halt, but I have been thinking about it this whole time! And now my brain has finally allowed me to make words again these past few weeks, so here it is:

PART 1 \\ PART 2

Even after seeing pictures of Zuko convinces Katara to tentatively agree to Ty Lee’s hairbrained scheme, she still tells herself that she has time to bail. If she really decides that she doesn’t need a date after all, she can just cancel on him and tell Aang her date had food poisoning or something. If worst comes to worst, she can claim that she has food poisoning too and escape the entire mortifying ordeal altogether. Zuko is just an option.

This is the constant refrain in her mind week after week as the date of the wedding approaches, and Katara gets somehow less enthusiastic about it with each passing day. She thinks it as she lets Suki shove her into a fitting room, laden with figure-hugging dresses. She thinks it as she scrolls quickly past Instagram posts counting down the days, politely liking them faster than she can process the sight of fairy lights and mason jars. She thinks it as she impulsively adds a leg waxing to her bi-monthly spa day with Toph. Zuko is just an option.

Just an option with arms that look like they would feel strong and secure around her, and a shy smile, and who’s sweet and playful with kids. Katara lets out a long, frustrated groan and presses her forehead to her desk, rolling it back and forth in a futile attempt to rub out the impending headache of a Friday afternoon. A moment later, she hears the telltale rattle of Suki’s office chair, and then her friend is rolling to a stop beside her.

“You good?” she asks, brushing aside Katara’s hair so she can see her face.

“No,” she sighs, annoyed.

“Is it the rehearsal dinner? Because if you don’t want to go, I can just say you got held late at work.”

“No, no. That’ll be...fine, probably. It’s this whole wedding date thing.”

“Oh do not tell me you’re still being all wishy-washy about it.”

“It just feels like a weird thing to do! I’m just going to show up at my ex’s wedding with this random dude? How will that look?”

“Um, probably like you’ve moved on? Which you have. Objectively. You even had a whole other relationship.”

“Really? Because I think it’ll look like I’m jealous and trying not to be.”

Suki fixes her with disbelieving eyebrows and a laugh. “Trust me, babe. Nobody is going to think that you’re the one that left that relationship pining. You were basically his mom. If this was Jet’s wedding...eh, maybe? But you tend to settle.”

Katara isn’t quite sure if Suki is trying to insult her or compliment her with that statement, and she isn’t sure if her kneejerk, “Hey!” is out of a desire to defend her judgement, or her past partners’ character. Regardless, she doesn’t have much after that to refute the point. Aang seems like a functional enough adult now, a few years out of college, but when they had dated, the “teen” in his nineteen years definitely showed. As for Jet, her much more recent cut, he was...vibing.

“Hon, you’re gonna be fine. I’ve heard Ty Lee and Mai talk about Zuko before, and he sounds like a decent guy. At worst, you have a meh date and escape some social awkwardness, but-” the upward tilt of Suki’s voice had Katara on edge, knowing what was coming next.

“Please, no -”

“- it could be good.”

“No, it can’t be.”

“Ty Lee seems really confident about you two, and you know she’s got a creepy good love radar. After all, she’s the one who convinced me not to block your brother when he slid into my DM’s. Even you told me to block him.”

“She does not have love radar. I love her, but the girl is an unstoppable meddler; she was bound to have a hit once,” Katara dismisses. It’s true that Sokka and Suki are adorable now, and perhaps evidence of the existence of soulmates, but Katara maintains that Ty Lee is a hopeless romantic who believes anything could be the start of an epic love story.

“Fine, be a cynic then. But you’ve already acknowledged that he’s hot, so just go to the wedding with him, and maybe finally rebound from Jet.”

“Hmm,” Katara hums noncommittally.

She’s something of a serial monogamist. She’d left her first real relationship with Aang intending on a summer fling to cleanse her palate before going back for her senior year. After a whirlwind month with the mature and worldly Jiang, she’d been looking into online classes, all but ready to move onto her houseboat and sail away into the sunset. Until Suki pointed out that it was an insane plan, and the ultimately parted ways as planned when Jiang set out to sea again. From there, she had fallen in with Jet as a friend with benefits to blow off steam through her last year without leaving herself open to distraction.

He wasn’t the kind of stable presence she could see herself settling down with, but wasn’t looking to be babied either. No, Jet was more of a feral creature. He knew he was dysfunctional and was fine with it, because function was the system and the system was bogus. Then, she got to know him, and realized that he kept people at a distance for much the same reason she was always pulling them too close. Suddenly, she had grand dreams of showing him the healing power of love, and both of them breaking free of their pain, never needing to fear being alone ever again. He cheated on her, and even as she was shouting at him, she’d known deep down that they had both just repeated their same bad habits all over again.

Now, there is Zuko. Zuko, with tragedy in his scarred eye, and sadness in his smile, but gentle hands on little legs resting on his shoulders. Katara thinks she could make many bad habits out of Zuko, and she is not too proud to admit that it terrifies her. Her stomach turns, and she thinks it might not even be a lie by the time she tells Zuko she’s suddenly too sick to attend the wedding.

The nausea gets worse at the rehearsal dinner, when she walks in to find Jet there, grinning at a bridesmaid. Suki hauls her over to Aang to give him a dressing-down for inviting him, and Katara is somehow reminded in the span of five minutes why she is extremely glad to be rid of both of them.

“I didn’t think it would be a problem!” Aang says, his usual defense. “And he is my friend - we go rock climbing together.”

“Small world,” Suki snarls, and Aang goes wide-eyed, leaning around her to look beseechingly at Katara.

“I swear, I didn’t think you were avoiding each other! After all, we’re exes, and it’s my wedding, but that’s not weird. So I figured you wouldn’t have a problem being in the same room as your other ex.”

Katara grits her teeth behind glossy lips that she forces into a smile, and despite Suki’s murder eyes and the voice in her head telling her not to - to swallow her embarrassment and tell the truth - she finds herself falling back on those old bad habits. “It’s okay, Aang. You had good intentions. We can be adults for one day.”

“Thank you so much Katara,” Aang gushes, lunging forward to wrap her in a hug that pins her arms briefly to her sides. “You’re the best!”

Suki shakes her head in disappointment as he bounds away. “You made your bed,” she reminds Katara. “Guess now you have to decide who to lie in it with.” She glides away to join Sokka at the bar, leaving Katara standing dazed and confused.

“Katara, hey,” an all too familiar voice greets her almost immediately after, and Katara closes her eyes. Suki totally hung her out to dry, and she can’t even be that mad because she’s right.

“Jet,” she says evenly, turning to face him. This shouldn’t be hard for her. While she doesn’t forgive him, she’s also very over him and understands that she’s an idiot for not making Aang ask him to leave. “How are you?”

“Not bad, not bad,” he says, bobbing his head. His clothes are formal but rumpled by disdain for their formality, an effect which once had a liquifying effect on Katara’s insides, but now just feels rude. “I was actually coming over to ask you the same thing,” he says, as though it is a profound inquiry and not the root of all small talk. She opens her mouth to offer a brusque reply and make an excuse to join Sokka and Suki at their table, but he knocks the wind out of her sails with his next words. “Ex’s wedding and all. Brutal.” He gives her a look that she is all to familiar with: his I-see-your-pain look. It was another thing about him that used to push all the right buttons on her, but now she just feels insulted at the presumption that she needs or wants his pity.

“Aang is actually a very dear friend,” she says, trying to sound as impenetrably chipper as possible. “Like a little brother.”

Jet is not deterred, leaning closer to her, his hand just brushing her elbow. “I feel bad about how things ended between us,” he says softly. “I should’ve done better by you.” Katara is momentarily stunned. Is she actually getting a sincere apology? “Which is why I think we should go to the wedding together. I just want to be there for you.”

It’s like a bucket of cold water down her spine, dousing both the fire of her anger and the tiny kindling warmth in her stomach. Katara pulls her shoulders back, straightening her spine, and snaps, “I already have someone to be there for me.”

Jet blinks and rears back a little. “Alright. I’ll, uh. Be looking forward to meeting them then.”

As he slinks away, she feels a moment of deep satisfaction. Only to nearly aspirate her sip of wine as she realizes she has officially painted herself into a corner. Zuko is coming to this wedding.

Thank you! If anyone wants to send me a line or prompt (from this list or your brain) I'll keep it going!

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 122

Annnnd WE’RE BACK!

Thank you so much for your patience during the hiatus. Work is still crazy, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel there *crosses fingers*. And I was able to build back up my cushion of chapters, so that was a huge win for me.

As a reminder, this is a skip forward roughly 4 years from chapter 121. So, if you read a bit and start to wonder “wait, did I miss something?”, you probably didn’t and it’s most likely something I am going to circle back to.  Don’t be a afraid to shoot me an ask, however, if you are just really thrown off by something! I’ll gladly clarify unless it’s something plot-specific.

Thanks, as always, go to @baelpenrose, @raven-fae, and @charlylimph-blog.  By the way, Raven is working on a podcast of The Miys, which I am incredibly stoked about. Please follow @glimmeringfeatherspodcast for updates!

I carefully adjusted my glasses as I suppressed a giggle at Noah, who was swarmed with small yellow puffs of fuzz.  In the last seven years since their discovery, Else’s hyper-fast evolution hadn’t slowed down much, although Grey did promise that it had slowed down. Noah buzzed at the puff resting on one of its vomu, eliciting a purr. “I believe they learned this behavior from Mac.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” I admitted. “I caught him playing with several of them a couple days ago.”

“I have observed them together on frequent occasions.” Reaching up, it plucked another puff from the top of its head. “I cannot hear if you sit on my sensory organs, podling.”  Soon after Else evolved to the point they could live outside of a habitat tank, Miys had developed a tendency to treat them like its own young, and generally had several of them perched somewhere.

“How many of them are there now?” I asked, reaching out slightly before stopping myself from petting the closest canary-sized fluff. “Else, can I pick you up?”

In response, it bounced onto my hand.  I’d noticed how little they spoke now, but Miys had assured us it was a normal stage in hive-being evolution - once Else became too large to actually fit in our bodies, it wasn’t able to communicate through the translator chip.  At this stage, it could still hear us, but communicating back was a work in process.  Mostly, they just trilled and chirped.

“Currently, there are five hundred and seven thousand, six hundred and twenty-three.”

“They’re very adaptable,” I observed.

With the one free vomu it had, Noah made a nodding gesture. “Most species that reach sentience are. We are able to observe Else’s evolution on a much shorter time scale than most, as well. Consider humanity’s evolution, and imagine seeing it take place in years rather than over the course of millenia.”

“I know,” I laughed. “But seeing it is way more incredible than imagining it.” I adjusted my glasses again, eliciting the buzz that usually meant Noah was exasperated with me.

“Why do humans insist on using those instead of having their eyes repaired?”

“My eyes aren’t damaged,” I reminded it. “And you did repair my eyes. I’m wearing these because my eyes are working right. You know this.”

“In principle, not in practice.”

It was my turn to sigh. “Our eyes evolved to work in a specific kind of light. Earth’s sun is yellow, I think? But Von’s sun is more blue.” I gestured at the light emitters in the corridor. “When the light is in the twilight cycle like this, some humans can’t see as well as we could in Earth-twilight. Hence the glasses.”

“Sight is so inefficient.”

I just shook my head. I couldn’t exactly argue. “Between the light and the gravity, it’s been a huge adjustment.”

“You have all adjusted in quite - innovative ways,” Noah replied. “My kind have done many of these relocations. Not all species adapt well.”

“What was it you called it?” I squinted, both from trying to see what was ahead of me and from thinking. I’m going to have to talk to someone about some flashlights, I swear… “We ‘persist’?”

“Humans are remarkably stubborn, yes,” it confirmed. “As Arthur Farro seems to prefer explaining it, your species began space travel by attaching chemical ignition drives to your posteriors.”

Even after so long, some things just did not translate. “Yep, we very much strapped a rocket to our asses to achieve spaceflight,” I laughed. “Everything on Earth kind of evolved and adapted like that. We learned what wouldn’t poison us by watching others die from eating it, that kind of thing. Even our superstitions, and later our laws, were basically ‘hey, let’s not do this, it kills people’.” A liw made its way into my line of sight, rocking to mimic a confused head-tilt. “You rescued us for our sight, not because we are a particularly bright species.”

“I understand that the polite thing to do, according to your customs, is to object to that statement, however I have been told on several occasions that I lack any skill in falsehoods.”

“We bombed ourselves back to the Stone Age the second we hit our highest peak in technology.” I reached out and patted what would have been a shoulder on a human. “You don’t have to lie about that. Arthur has studied an absurd percentage of human history. Even from a scholarly perspective, I am assured we are a singularly idiotic race. Besides, we’d already ruined an entire planet at that point...”

“It has evidenced itself to be a lesson well-learned.” It returned the pat, gently. “For a species historically inclined to warfare, those on the Yjq have demonstrated a profound proclivity toward peace.”

“Trying to keep it that way, bud,” I admitted.

Removing yet another puff from its sensory organs, Noah continued. “Please be assured, also, that Terrans are far from ‘singularly’ idiotic.  There are many species in the Galactic Community that are demonstrably lacking in what you refer to as ‘common sense’.”

Noah was still a terrible gossip. “Do tell,” I asked, crossing my mental fingers that we weren’t the worst out there.

“Preeyar,” it listed immediately.

“The rift-valley avians?”

“The same. They experience terrible reactions to liquid water, and yet they are fascinated by fountains and insist upon touching them!” Startled chirps erupted as all six appendages on Noah’s upper body flung out in frustration. “Any vessel transporting Preeyar has specific instructions on how to treat the resulting burns.”

I had to admit, that was pretty bad. “Terrans at least learn not to touch things that will burn us by the time we can speak, usually.” My nose tickled as several little Else-puffs migrated over to me, upset by the grand gesture from my friend.  I was almost glad it was so difficult for humans to see in the corridor, because I probably looked absurd.

“Shalt’krii are somehow just as difficult,” Noah confessed. “As a species that have what you term an ‘allergy’ to sonic waves - they develop painful rashes and can have seizures when exposed. Yet, it is entirely inevitable when transporting a large group that several will have forgotten or neglected to bring dampeners.”

“Oh my gosh,” I gasped, trying not to laugh and upset Else again. “How?”

“It has eluded the Galactic Council since they joined. The dampeners are far less barbaric than what the So-K’nor do to resolve a similar concern, but I must privately admit that the So-K’nor are at least more consistent and effective.”

Well, yeah, deliberately deafening yourself permanently when you go off-world tends to be that way, I thought to myself. I knew I didn’t need to say it out loud, but I also knew that Noah would not address my thoughts out loud. “Okay, maybe we aren’t that bad,” I granted. “I think the worst we do is ingest mild poisons.”

“On an alarmingly frequent basis, yes. Including plants native to your world that actually attempt to digest you as you eat them.”

I shook my head. “Not this girl. I don’t like pineapple.”

“And the number of humans on the ship who willingly consume lactic acid, knowing it will cause them digestive distress?” If it had eyebrows, they would be arching, I just knew it.

“You have pointed out several times over the years that you can’t taste,” I pointed out. “So you have no idea how tempting cheese can be.”

Noah shook one vomu like a head. “Incorrect. Having witnessed the sheer amount of it that Tyche consumed once she realized that you were not lactose intolerant, there is empirical evidence to support your claim.”

Unconsciously, my hand jumped to touch my left ear before I could force it down. “I remember the spicy food,” I said carefully, stroking one of the fluffs on my arms. “But I didn’t know about the cheese. Come to think of it - “ I stopped in my tracks and turned to face Noah directly, “Why weren’t the consoles just adjusted to make all the food… I dunno, lactose-free, I guess?”

Two liw reached to pluck several yellow beings from my arms and head as Noah used one vomu to start ticking reasons. “One, because I was specifically asked not to by Grey Hodenson and Xiomara Kalloe, the consensus being that bovines are, in fact, in the genetic database. Two, because that was attempted several weeks before you were brought on board, and I was tempted to damage my sensory organs to block out the sheer number of complaints regarding how everything tasted.”  Thankfully, its vomu was still empty when it flung outward. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to accommodate requests regarding something you do not experience?”

I felt slightly ashamed. “Not entirely, no.” Trying to lighten the mood slightly, I felt the need to point out “Besides, I really like goat cheese.”

“Something about chetter and mootsareeleh,” Noah grumbled.

“Ohhhhh,” I whispered. “Eyeah… do not mess with Italians’ mozzarella, I have learned. And cheddar does have a very specific flavor. I can see those being very loud complaints.”

“In eight Terran years, I am still confused why the color of the chetter is a determining factor, as well as how something so soft can be compared to an edged weapon.”

I felt like I was going to explode from suppressed laughter. I had to stop, tears streaming down my face, and catch my breath. “Oh, Noah… I honestly don’t know if I can explain that, but I can try…”

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[kbmercer]

Chapter 2: A New Beginning

[Life’s A Journey]

Summary:

A lot had happened after they parted ways. Nevertheless, the threads that tie them together remained. From children to adults, a reunion that’s long overdue leads the trio to embark on another journey.

Just like old times.

Word Count: 3.8k+

The first thing (Y/n) does when they enter Sonia’s room is divebomb onto her bed. The plush mattress effectively absorbs the weight of their descent and the trainer curls in on themselves like a Litten.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” the redhead giggles as she swiftly usurps her pillow from the resting spot.

“We have a lot to catch up on,” she says as she shoots a glance at Leon. He had relegated himself to sitting in her vanity chair.

“Yeah. Let’s not let this time go to waste!”

“Ugh. Don’t we talk to each other over the phone already?” Leon laughs as Sonia beats (Y/n) with the pillow.

“I’m kidding!” They laugh as they feebly block her attacks.

“There’s no doubt that we have a lot to catch up on, even though we do talk on the phone—especially with you.” They playfully point an accusatory finger at the violet-haired man.

Leon scratches the back of his head abashedly. “Yeah…It’s been a while…”

“I swear, both of you are so limited on time. Sometimes I feel like I’m the one keeping you two in check.” With a hand on her hip, Sonia’s lip juts out in a mild pout and (Y/n) hums.

“Not just you. Hop is mighty loquacious. I’d even go as far to say that I talk to him more than the both of you.”

While Sonia let’s out a noise of surprise, Leon chuckles.

“I suspected as much. If it’s not Gloria or me, then it’s you.”

“Ah, the new champ? I can’t believe it’s been over a year already. How’s she holding up?” (Y/n) moves from their lying position to prop their head onto their hand. Leon shifts in his seat.

“She reminds me a lot of myself. I love the battles and putting a smile on the people of Galar’s face but outside of that—paperwork, meetings with businessmen, sponsorships—it’s not the best. I see the same happening with her.”

“Oof. That’s a bummer. Though, I’m sure she’s a smart kid and will push past that.” Leon agrees with a nod. As he looks back, his business relations weren’t all too terrible. As he grew into the Champion role he had the likes of Rose and Oleana to assist. He will be forever grateful for that help and has been using that knowledge to do the same for Gloria.

“The Galar League is very different from all other regions. While the League is a big deal everywhere else to some extent, Galar is on a different level entirely. It’s like battling here is integral to life, even if you don’t progress very far…”

“That may be true, but I still think that in terms of overall prowess, Galar has a lot to work on.” Leon’s expressive contemplativeness elicits quiet laughs from them and Sonia.

“Stop it. Give Galar a lil’ more credit!” They sit up and cross their legs.

“You’ve still held on to that dream, huh.” Sonia says admirably. Her phrasing was more-so a statement than a question.

It was as if the temperature grew a bit warmer as both (Y/n) and their red-headed friend watched the fire in Leon’s bright eyes glow.

“The dream to make the people of Galar the strongest in the world. A noble endeavor,” (Y/n) teases though Leon pays no mind.

“I meant it then and I mean it now. If I can contribute to making that goal a reality I’ll do what I can.”

“You’ve already done more than enough…” Sonia smiles and (Y/n) intercedes.

“You’re such an over-achiever!”

“You’re ones to talk,” the ex-Champion counters. He swiftly moves from the chair and scoops (Y/n) off Sonia’s bed. They sputter a protest as they’re lifted. The strength that both of their friends possessed was astounding.

“Speaking of champs—congrats on becoming the Unova Champ, mate!”

(E/c) eyes stare into the man’s amber before they begin laughing once more.

“You’re a little too late. Have been Champion for a few years now.”

“Yes, and in those few years we’ve yet to see you. I think it’s high-time to give a proper celebration don’t you think?” They huff before landing a light punch to his chest.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“No no. I want to.”

“Don’t let this opportunity slip, (Y/n)! We need to make the most of this while we can!” Sonia presses. (Y/n) was never one for parties but seeing both her friends adamantly agree to the idea is something that they couldn’t bring themselves to reject.

“Fine,” they concede with a sigh. “But don’t get ahead of yourselves. We’re keeping it small.”

Both nod happily. Even though Leon and Sonia are relatively private people, they weren’t above going wild at grand parties.

             “I also think it’s high-time that we have a battle for old times sake!” (Y/n) huffs at his enthusiasm.

             “Always the one to jump right into it, yeah?” Ah, well, it’s not like I didn’t see it coming.” They shrug as a smug smile grows on their face.

“I’m sure Hop gave you the Mega Stones?” Leon’s eyes grow as he is reminded of this. In his excitement for meeting (Y/n), he had forgotten about the items in his possession. Fishing them out of his pocket he showcases them to the two in the room. Sonia gasps, the academic in her rears its head.

“A Charizardite X?! These stones are so rare to find! How’d you get your hands on them?! Her verdant irises analyze the items. The ex-champion hands them to the professor to further examine to which she does with vigor.

“During my time in Kalos, I came across a hiker that was selling ore. It happened to be within the bunch.” Crossing their arms,  (Y/n) lulls their head to the side. “It’s been sitting in my bag for a while and that’s just a waste.” They jut a thumb toward the violet-haired man. “There’s only one person I know that has a Charizard.”

“It’s nice to know that you think of me whenever Charizard is a topic.”

“Hmm. My colleagues like to drag me on escapades after the League challenges end. So, I’ve been dragged into helping study Mega Evolution.”

“You said that you didn’t find out anything new?” Sonia asks. She was fully aware of the work her childhood friend had been doing but had never gotten close to an artifact closely linked to the profound Evolution.

“We haven’t. The stones are a thing we’ve known about for a while, there just isn’t a whole lot of information about Mega Evolution’s history. As much as I’d like to explain further, we’d be here all day. Plus, it’d be better to learn first-hand right?”

“Go on then,” she agrees giving the item back to Leon and they head out the room and down the stairs.

             As the trio make their way out the house, they join with Hop and Magnolia. The younger brother was busy tossing a ball out to the slew of pokémon that occupied the field. (Y/n) and Leon both had released their teams for some exercise, and it looked like they were having a blast. Most of them were passing the play-thing around before returning it to the teen while Magnolia stood elsewhere leisurely waving a feather toy at Babe and Yamper.

Noticing the pokémon’s attention being shifted away from the ball causes the boy to follow their line of sight.

“Done having your convo already?”

“Not quite,” Leon says as he rolls his shoulders. “We’re gonna take the pitch and have us a good battle.”

“This will be a one-on-one for now. We’re testing things out.” While the explanation was pretty vague on it’s own, Hop understands what the Unova Champion means. He was about to see what Mega Evolution was all about.

With a small cheer in anticipation, he is quick to help corral the pokémon away from the violet-clad battlefield. Sonia and Magnolia meet together on the sidelines and the former professor hums.

“I will take the position of referee if that is alright with you all.”

(Y/n) smiles, “Not at all.”

“That’s more than alright, Gran. Besides, I want to document as much as I possibly can.” She pulls a memo pad from her coat pocket and calls her Rotom Phone forward to record.

“Alright, Charizard. You’re up.” The fire-flying type gives out a sprightly roar and takes a battle stance on his trainer’s end of the pitch.

Lulu, (Y/n)’s Lopunny is called forward. With a prompt explanation, the rabbit pokémon shares a determined look with her trainer and confidently enters the field. Leon takes note of the pink bow that (Y/n) wrapped around the pokémon’s left ear, a stone similar to Charizard’s was in the center but in shades of yellow and brown.

             The tension in the air is palpable. Both pokémon keep their eyes on each other as they stand off. Seconds feel like minutes, then Professor Magnolia commences the battle with the stamp of a cane. In a split-second, Charizard and Lulu are already at each other. Padded paws grip sharp claws as both pokémon dig their heels into the sturdy ground, their strength being pushed against one another prevent any sort of pushback before the two ultimately separate. Jumping back to their ends of the field, both pokémon lunge at each other once more to meet in the center.

“Charizard, use Dragon Claw!”

“Counter with Mega Punch!”

The physical attacks make impact, the force of both coming together leaving a blast of air in their wake as it billows throughout the area. (Y/n) feels it flow through their clothing and Leon felt it weave through his hair. The greenery that surrounds them rustle loudly as the fight continues.

             “Fire Fang!”

             “Dodge and use Shadow Ball!”

Taking a leap over Charizard, Lulu creates a sphere of ominous energy in between her paws and brings it down on her adversary, though Charizard is quick on his feet and redirects. The Shadow Ball is destroyed as he brings his heated fangs down on the attack. The spectral power is enough to nullify his Fire Fang however, and the flames in his maw dissipate. Lulu gives a teasing snicker and Charizard releases a low growl blowing the aftermath of smoke from his nose.

“Brutal Swing!”

“Breaking Swipe!”

Both trainers had shouted their commands in unison. The two pokémon go for a sweep but are caught at an impasse once more. (Y/n) hums amusedly. If their attacks were going to constantly be nulled, this match was going to be a lengthy one. Leon appears to share the same sentiment.

             “I guess some things never change! Even now we still manage to hold each other off!” The glint in the former champ’s warm amber eyes showed a sense of renewed spirit and anticipation. (Y/n) responds in kind.

             “You and I have only gotten stronger since times past. It’s only natural we’d be neck and neck with each other again.” Their smile was prideful, (e/c) eyes harboring mischief. “But we also understand that one of us will slip-up eventually. Regardless of who that may be, Lulu and I will give our 110 percent!” Leon lets out a joyful laugh.

“Well said! We won’t lose, so prepare yourself!”

As they stand by, Sonia and Hop can feel their hearts race. Spectating Leon and (Y/n) as both stand assertively and give quick-witted directions to their pokémon was a sight to behold. Swift and graceful movements between Charizard and Lopunny almost look like a dance. Neither of them let up and devote all their focus on both the opponent and the commands of their respective trainers. Directions continued to be shouted and every time both pokémon went to deal damage it would only end in a stalemate. The clock ticks and Sonia soon begins to notice that the two creatures are starting to grow tired. Movement starts to slow down little by little. Room for exploiting weak points were gradually opening for them both. Meanwhile, Hop and Professor Magnolia gauge the Mega Stones that Charizard and Lulu wear. Both had gradually begun to glow the longer the two butt heads. It was only a matter of time before their power took effect.  Though, the call to transformation was a two-way street.

(Y/n) is quick to make the call.

“Alright! I think it’s time we speed up the process. As much as I love a good battle, I don’t have all day,” (Y/n)’s words are teasing as they move their hand to wrap around their Key Stone. The Key Stone activates, and Lulu’s Mega Stone reacts. The symbol that lie in the center of Lulu’s Lopunnite glows radiantly and the warm mix of yellow and brown is overtaken by an ethereal rainbow. The multicolored aura expands, encasing the pokémon in a prominent crystal before it breaks open to reveal the Lopunny’s transformation. Her appearance is more dynamic with the fur on her ears being shaved down—the tuft being more prominent at the top of the head in the reminiscent form of a butterfly. Voices of wonder flow through the audience. With a flourish, Lulu takes an arm and sweeps a long ear away from her face before taking a boxing stance.

Leon had watched their actions intently and the activation to Mega Evolution seemed simple enough. He is quick to follow suit.

“I’m game for a quick-fire round. Let’s make things more interesting!” He takes his hand and places it over the brooch he’d pinned to his outfit and the glow of the Charizardite X does the same. Charizard is encased in a similar crystal before it falls away. There was no longer a trace of warmth in the skin with orange being replaced with black. His wings have become more pointed and perhaps the most notable feature resulting from the transformation was the bright blue flames that kindle at the jaw and tail. The new power elicits a booming cry from Leon’s companion as he regards his opponent once more. Then the two fighters continue to exchange blows.

“Iron Tail,” Charizard’s tail moves hit Lopunny and she braces for the impact. The damage taken was minimal as the rabbit pokémon listens for her trainer’s orders.

“Ice Punch.” In one swift movement, Lulu utilizes their close distance to hit Charizard on the chest, giving an effective blow. With a grunt, the fire-dragon type jumps back to make space.

“Dragon Pulse.” He opens his mouth as the fire between his jaws grows larger before blowing the flames.

“Use Agility and dodge it,” Lulu just barely bypasses the heat and increases her speed.

“Go for another Ice Punch!” Frigid crystals enclose around Lulu’s fist once more as she goes in for another strike.

“Not a chance!” Leon interjects before giving another command. “Let’s take this up high!” He points skyward with vigor and Charizard follows the order, spreading his wings and lifting off the ground.

(Y/n)’s lips press into a thin line, though it’s gone as soon as it appears. It’s clear that Charizard was now at an advantage, but surely Lulu is more than capable of taking that away.

“Alrighty, Lulu. Let’s meet ‘em there with a Bounce.” In one swift motion, the normal-fighting type gauges Charizard’s location in the air before reaching him in the sky with little to no effort.

“Chip-away with Acrobatics!” With whatever momentum she had in the forever space, Lulu flips and kicks at Charizard utilizing every part of her body—arms, legs, and ears to hit at him rapidly. She manages land a few but is quickly met with retaliation.

“Take her down with an Air Slash!” Leon’s command is instantly met with the action as if they were in synch.

Charizard flaps his wings rapidly to create a razor sharp current of air to which Lopunny takes the blunt force of, being sent back to solid-ground. (Y/n)’s jaw clenches for a moment but they think fast on a method to break their partner’s fall.

“Use Acrobatics once more and land on your feet!” Having heard loud and clear, Lulu tucks in on herself as she speedily descends. Doing a few flips mid-air, Lulu lands on the battlefield safely albeit the velocity. Charizard remains in the air as it seems that Leon is banking on this tactic. It was time to change that.

“Use Bounce! One more time!”

Lulu meets with Charizard in the air once more and the fire-dragon rears for another Air Slash—a mistake that could very well hand them the match.

“Perfect. Go for the wing!” Before Lulu can suffer another super-effective blow, she intercepts by using another bout of Acrobatics to nullify both of their flying-type attacks. Lulu takes the split-second after the nullification to latch on to Charizard’s wing. This action served as a surprise to everyone watching as the rabbit pokémon utilizes Charizard’s weight to swing, using his appendage like a trapeze. Releasing the wing from her grasp, Lulu moves into a 180 back-flip effectively landing on Charizard’s back.

“Drain Punch, let’s go!” A hefty strike to the back destabilizes Charizard’s flight and in the shock brought on by the sapping of his energy, he starts to rapidly fall. Leon’s brows furrow bringing wrinkles to his forehead as he feels the pressure of the fight get heavier. While he’s had plenty of experience in battles, (Y/n)’s unconventional strategies always found a way to turn the tables. It’s something he had noticed back when they’d battled in the Gym Challenge as children. Now as adults battling once again, he’s noticed that their skill in unconventional thinking hadn’t gone away. If anything, it’s gotten stronger alongside their team. Lulu had not missed a beat despite the large risk and managed to pull through. Her partner trusted them completely—relying on them to make the correct calls and obeying without hesitation. Unfortunately for (Y/n), he could say the same for he and Charizard.

“Use this descent to your advantage! Take her down with you and use Heat Crash!” (Y/n)’s eyes widen at this command watching on in growing disdain.

Charizard moves to shake from Lulu from his back avoiding her attempts to take hold and remain on his back. The strong blue flames that flowed from his mouth along with the flame at the end of his tail grew larger and crept along Charizard’s body until he was wholly engulfed in the flame. He feels no pain, but Lulu does and continues to feel the searing heat as they torpedo into the field. Obviously, Charizard uses his opponent to break the fall and (Y/n)’s heart races—faster than it had in a long time. A crater was made in the ground kicking up chunks of dirt and leaving a larger dust cloud.

             (Y/n)’s teeth grind together before they call out to their partner. Both trainers wait a bit as the cloud in front of them disperses. Taking a breath, they grin. Both partners remained conscious on the field thought they both look petered out, though Lopunny looked too worse for wear. She had endured and the Unova champ felt nothing but pride.

This conflict was reaching its end and if they wanted to win, they’d have to do it quickly. Both pokémon remained in close proximity to each other, creating distance wasn’t an option anymore.

             “Dragon Claw,” Leon shouts.

             “Swift,” (Y/n) commands in tandem. The star-like projectiles that come of the attack are easily destroyed by the Charizard’s heavy swipes, but they only served as a distraction.

Gotcha.

“Low Kick,” without a second to spare. Lulu kicks out their legs using his weight against him. The disorientation that follows is exactly what they need to bring this to a close.

“Alright! Finish the job with Play Rough!” Lulu holds Charizard down and uses the remainder of her energy to thrash with the fire-flying type. The dirt and debris that accumulated throughout the fight created yet another opaque cloud within the battlefield though (Y/n) didn’t need to see pass to know that the brawl was over.

Sure enough, as the dust settles, Charizard is down for the count. He had reverted back to his normal self—no black seen in his skin, just the warmth of orange. Lulu managed to stay standing but just barely. The rabbit stood in a fighting stance despite the outcome and only falters at the words spoken by Magnolia.

“Charizard is unable to battle. Lulu is the victor.”

The pokémon’s Mega transformation dissipates as the pokémon falls forward and into a kneel. The jovial cheers of their spectators mixes with (Y/n)’s own as they’re quick to assist Lulu in regaining her health.

             “You did wonderfully, Lulu! I’m so proud of you!” They bring their companion in for a hug and she reciprocates in kind before separating. Turning to see Leon tending to Charizard, the Unova champion praises the winged creature.

             “I’m honestly very surprised. For a first timer, he did a top-notch job.” Leon smiles as he looks up at (Y/n) from his squatting position.

             “That’s good to hear,” his gaze shifts to look back at Charizard. Despite the loss, his partner was in high-spirits— more enthusiastic than he was before the fight, in fact.

             “It’s one thing to see the photos and read about it. Obviously, utilizing the change in battle is a completely different experience.”

             “So what’d ya think?”

             “I think it’s great. Maybe the reason Charizard could get the hang of it so quickly was because the transformation is sort of like Gigantamax in a way. They change form and unlock strengths and abilities that they wouldn’t have otherwise.”

             “That’s why I’m so interested in it. Dynamax and Gigantamax seem to be a capability that is exclusive to Galar with the use of hotspots and wishing stars, but Mega Evolution is something that can be utilized anytime and anywhere, no matter the region. All you need are the proper stones and a close bond with your partner.” They take their hand to make a fanning gesture.

             “I’ve kinda already spieled about this, so I’ll cut to the chase. Keep the stones and add them to your arsenal. It won’t hurt to shake things up a little bit.” Leon had since moved from his squat to stand.

             “Sounds like a plan. We’d never reject this opportunity to get stronger, isn’t that right?” Charizard grunts in affirmation. (Y/n) laughs.

             “And we’ll look forward to it.”

After the post-battle the exchange Magnolia, Sonia, and Hop meet them on the field.

             “That battle was so awesome!” The teen enthused with a twinkle settled in his already bright eyes.

             “I’ve only ever seen a few Mega Evolution battles in my lifetime, and they never cease to amaze me.” Magnolia agrees.

             “I’m so glad Rotom was recording. My heart was beating out of my chest that I failed to take notes,” Sonia whines. “At least I can re-watch it…”

             “You’d best make use of this great power and hone your skill of it, ya hear?” The elder presses to which Leon nods his head with no hesitation.

“Definitely.”

****************************

 I started shiny hatching and just never made it back…I managed to obtain 8 new shinies in the span of a month. Hyper-fixation at its finest.

Relegating Pokémon move sets to only four at a time is boring, so I removes that aspect. I understand why this is a thing in-game, but this is a story. I feel like pokémon should have access to their entire move pool—both learned and through TM/TR.

[gtavicecityapp]

GTA Vice City Review: A Classic Never Goes Out Of Style

Parachute pants, big hair, and pale sports jackets may not be the height of style nowadays, but gamers were in the middle of a digital resurrection ten years ago. Grand Theft Auto Vice City rode about the enormous (and pleasant ) victory of GTAIII using a new setting, a much more character-driven narrative, and an elegant sandbox universe, which makes it a string popular even now. People who wish to relive the glory days of the 1980s (and 2002) may download the game on Google Play for only five dollars.

Can Vice City live up to expectations? Well, no and yes. The technical facets of the game, and Rockstar's ambitious dedication to the sandbox design, have not aged well. If you have played GTA-style games in recent years, Vice City will appear simplistic and laborious. The game's comparative absence of sophistication works nicely in the brand new mobile form factor on the flip side. People who are burnt out to the "everything to everybody" design of Grand Theft Auto IV (guy dates, anybody?) Will enjoy the simplicity. And as an interface, Vice City excels on high-powered hardware.

Crime Pays Pretty Well, Really

The narrative begins with Tommy Vercetti, a mafia guy. He has just been released from prison and delegated to emerging criminal possessions in Vice "no, it is not Miami, we swear" City. Players can build a criminal empire by stealing automobiles, busting drug prices, intimidating less elastic sellers, and even killing lots and lots of individuals. The narrative is amazingly coherent and plays out like a love letter to Scarface. Voice acting is strong - really, the actors and actresses much outclass their electronic avatars' capacity to express them.

Compared with the elderly Grand Theft Auto III, Vice City includes a lot of depth, even though it isn't immediately evident. A broader selection of weapons and automobiles (like bicycles and helicopters) will be the icing on a remarkably profound system of property and money laundering. Play about half the game, and you will have the ability to get and upgrade land, subsequently making you money. It's possible to invest this money in more and better hideouts and improved equipment. Coupled with more collectibles and side assignments than you can shake a 12-gauge at, Vice City provides about 30 hours of playtime directly through and at least 70 hours for completionists.

But moving straight through assignments in this sort of game is practically missing the point. You'll end up hard-pressed to withstand the desire to crash automobiles, race tanks, try out numerous challenges, and normally create the Vice City Police Department to make their cash. At times, the subtle and, sometimes, a not-so-subtle comedy that endures through the game should delight the twelve-year-old in you (also create the adult in you feel guilty). It goes without mentioning that this game isn't intended for children and should not be played with them between the picture representation of criminal behavior and novelty.

They Do Not Make' Em As They Used To

To a technical degree, Vice City is somewhat behind the times. Textures are flat and dull; draw space is almost zero, and also, the individual versions particularly seem like something from a 90s game. All these were forgivable back to the PlayStation because of the sheer extent of this game. Still, past an increase to a resolution that's thankfully flexible from the settings menu, there are not any improvements. To put it bluntly, the game is ugly, but that should make it much easier for older hardware to join in the fun. The screenshots in this review have been shot on a Transformer Prime, with settings maxed out.

On the plus side, this comparatively low degree of graphical elegance makes the game run amazingly well on Android. Vice City is quicker and more straightforward in my tablet computer than it had been in my own dusty old Xbox, also. As mentioned above, people who demand a little additional oomph in their hardware ought to have the ability to correct the digital resolution of this game to match. More annoying are the marginally older gambling conventions present: both the planning and leaping mechanics are annoying at best and utterly ruinous at worst. The simple fact your character dies almost immediately in water at a game consisting almost exclusively of islands remains incredibly annoying. These issues are not specific to the Android variant, but it is a slight bummer that Rockstar did not address them at the translation.

The highlight of this game's demonstration, today as then, is your sound. Total voice acting was uncommon back in the afternoon, and also professional, devoted focus on the figures was less. Combine this with Vice City's full complement of period-correct radio channels (and, of course, exceptionally entertaining faux chat channels ), and you would do yourself a disservice if you did not hear this game on a fantastic set of headphones.

Catch A Controller

This is generally the stage in the review in which I lament a game's touch-based controllers, and really, Vice City leaves a lot to be desired in this section. You can fix the camera by sliding in the center of the display, but what else is accomplished by onscreen buttons - lots of these. It is a complex game and demands many excellent controllers, particularly in these sections where you are working guns or flying vehicles.

The controls are responsive and quick, for the most part. I can not fault the designers for the intricacy of the game because simplifying the controllers will need gutting a lot of actual gameplay. If you are patient and well-coordinated, you should not find the touch controls a significant barrier to your enjoyment of this name.

Grand Theft Auto is supposed to be played with a gamepad. Recognizing that, Rockstar programmed complete gamepad support (such as the PowerA Moga, for all those who took advantage of this current free advertising ). After hammering in my Logitech gamepad, the digital controls automatically vanish, and the layout yields. There are a couple of hiccups; for instance, there's no visual indication regarding what to press to take a telephone call. But overall, it is a virtually perfect emulation of the classic gameplay. Throw in an HDMI adapter, and suddenly you are back in 2002 - with high-definition images to boot.

Conclusion

There are many slight issues with Grand Theft Auto: Vice City, the majority of which have already been with the game since its first edition. Meaning that it is challenging to play with no control, and it'll punish gamers used to more pliable, contemporary mobile games. However, for those willing to check beyond its flaws, the game is delightful and engaging as it had been a decade ago.

More than this, it is a beautiful price. While five dollars is on the other side for Android games, many games at the Play Store do not have the breadth and scope of Vice City, and they will not keep you going for months on end. If you are a casual fan of Grand Theft Auto or sandbox games, Vice City is essential. Otherwise, await the game to go on sale (it probably will at some stage ) and snag it afterward. You will not regret it.

[inlovewithdisaster]

@invictarre 

oh, would you look at that! leon’s performance has hit so close to home that ursula has burst into tears! she’s sobbing into her arms on the table, right between her fellow judges.

“are you all right, ursula?” zoey asks, but the girl seems too overcome to speak. as zoey whispers comforting words to her and gently strokes her hair, tobias gives his verdict.

“i commend you, leon,” he says, “for telling me more about yourself and your pokémon in the span of a few short minutes than i knew from knowing you for months. that must have been so intensely personal, to lay yourself bare like that…i remember at the wallace cup you said you’re not a performer, but i swear, you’ve created something far more profound than some of the professionals i’ve seen here today. and i can say, as a trainer whose pokémon have been through as much trauma as i have: i’ve been there. i know how you feel. you honored the bond with your pokémon in every move, in every ounce of classical symbolism, in every artistic choice, in every word that was sung and spoken. now, i hardly ever do this, but take it--you’ve earned it. i’m giving you a PERFECT SCORE.”

“i agree. that was a magnificent performance. while i don’t have the same experiences as tobias or as you, i also know how it feels to put something that personal out on stage--and you handled it wonderfully. you handled it with grace and majesty, showing off the power befitting a true champion. your timing, your music, the balance of focus between yourself and your pokémon--not to mention, it was grand without being overly flashy. you might not be naturally inclined to perform, but if you’d chosen to be a coordinator instead of a champion, i feel you would have been just as great. the only things i could criticize are that i don’t know how to feel about your pokémon being knocked out like that--i know that they probably agreed to it, but still, you probably shouldn’t make them KO themselves every rehearsal. and what’s more, the performance also felt a little bit short--maybe adding a bit more imagery would have helped? so, that’s a 7/10 from me for aesthetic, a 8/10 from me for originality, and of course, for adherence to theme? 10/10, and i’d give you more points if i could. that means your final score from me is a 25/10!”

the audience stands and claps as the two judges confer their blessing--a standing ovation for the dragon and his liege.

zoey turns to the crying girl with her head down on the desk next to her; her sobs at least seem to have died down.

“ursula, what do you think?”

“i thought…i thought it was great…” she whimpers. “except…”

“except what?” zoey says gently.

“Except I wish someone would forgive ME!”

silence, from the other two judges. and then:

“are you serious right now?” tobias cries. “are you honestly going to try and make this all about yourself?

“WELL THIS’OLE CONTEST’S’POSED TO BE ABOUT ME, ISN’IT?” ursula bellows. “TOBIAS……TOBIAS……YOU WERE SUPPOSED…TO FORGIVE ME! YOU WERE! I…I’M THE ONE YOU’RE MEANT TO MARRY! NOT…ANNALISE!”

“something tells me you’ve never had to hear a recording of yourself, because you really have no idea how fucking cringey you sound to everybody else,” tobias snarks.

“that’s not helping,” zoey says, shooting him a glare. “

“IT’S JUST NOT FAIR…” ursula says, the tears pouring from her face again. “WHY’S NO ONE…MAKE A SHOW LIKE THAT…FOR ME?! WHYSIT A POKÉMON? DO POKÉMON…EVENKNOW…WHAT FORGIVENESS…” 

she can’t find the word she’s thinking of, but tobias fills it in for her.

“dragons are perfectly capable of understanding the concept of forgiveness,” he huffs. “you should know. you’re the companion of one--”

“IDUN CARE! IDUN CARE!!!” she pounds the table with her little fists. “I WANBE FORGIVEN!” HIC. “NOT SOME LIZARD!!!!”

tobias stands up so fast his chair goes clattering to the floor. no one talks about dragon-types like that in front of a draconid like him! he balls a fist at his side--looking like he’s going to swing a punch at her red-flustered face.

“tobias, no,” zoey says, meeting his glare with hers. “that shouldn’t be our priority right now. our priority should be to get her through the judging.” she tenses, ready to be snapped at--but thankfully, he stands down.

“now,” she says, as though talking to a child, “what score do you want to give to mister leon?”

“10/10 for aesthetic.” she emits a hiccup crossed with a burp. “8/10 for adherence to theme. 7/10 for originality. iduncare. iduncare.”

“but that’s not--” tobias starts, yet once again, a glance from zoey silences him.

“it’s whatever,” zoey sighs. “he’s still gonna be in the lead and it’s not like we’re getting anything else out of her.”

“if you insist,” he grumbles. “now, onto the bonuses. you get +15 for using thunderbolt, draining kiss and misty terrain. you also get +10 for creating move combinations from types that are opposite to each other--once with ice shard and fly, and once with wild charge and aqua jet. this brings your total to…”

TOTAL: 105 POINTS

[imagi77]

The King and the Knight ~ Drabble

Wrote this with a friend, @claude-frollo-archives​~ I thought I’d share. :’) Nothing official or anything, but it sure made me happy~

His nightly ride had come to a strange end when he soon found someone he knew, oddly placed at the center of a glen. She had greeted him like an old friend, and graced him with an enchanted waltz that even his own discovered wild spirit could not resist. It brought tender memories of this first part of the decade of raising a little girl, when he truly did not have any sort of obligation to take on the work of another. And to continue it to the very end… was just enough proof of the heart to someone who waited deep in the pines for these two wayward voyagers.

The towering pines became from dark and looming to somehow calm and peaceful to the point that it began to feel … uncanny to him. It felt so different that he had to stop. The stallion stalled in his tracks, with his ears back, upon a sudden… The female creature who was accompanying him paused and looked back to him.

Her eyes lit up with realization when this brilliant stallion displayed, shockingly… a lack of confidence? It almost made her eyes water to see this wise one hesitate so suddenly before her eyes. This was a wizard who has scorned in the face of evil itself and had been on a transforming journey for more than a decade — This was unreal. What was fastened here? What was trapping him?

In this form, he had to abandon it, for it was a treasured secret of his and has been so for years — If this was lie of some kind or some cruel trick, he had to come as his true form, the way he was. There was this… tranquility overcoming him, overcoming his logic and if he let that go, ever… it would leave him too vulnerable.

The stallion’s form wilted away before the Dryad and there stood a very on edge wizard, whose cloaks were just as slick as the beast’s coat as before. At her, his eyes looked shocked… hurt even at the mere possibility.

“What are you doing?” he asked her suddenly, a new tone taking over his often strong voice. It sounded fragile.

“I have done nothing,”

“Nothing. Have you charmed a wild animal’s naivete in order to bring me to this place? The very same way that you cursed it?”

“Absolutely not, dear Prince…” she answered, patiently. “You are not who you were almost 20 years ago. Far, so far from that. That curse relies on you now… Not I… but I do really believe that is the least of our worries now.”

“What do you mean…?”

“Only come, there is nothing to fear here…”

“Even you should know that there is always fear — Do not be so with me. I am aware of the dangers of feeling this close to safety can only be a diversion of some kind. If I know the effects of the Dark Arts well enough, this is a deathtrap waiting to happen…”

Her ambers softened sadly. “Things are not as they were, Orpheus… You have loved and have become loved and in doing so, you have something far beyond what you have once dreamed of as a boy. You are correct that fear would always survive, but love blooms brighter during such times, wouldn’t you agree? You have looked after so many and lastly that young inventor who proved to be more than what he seemed to be, after your Lily’s found petal no less…”

The anger fell from his eyes before he trailed them to the ground away from hers. He drew in a deep sigh, yet he still held his wand… ready for anything.

“Perhaps it was the pathetic hope of keeping who I held dear away from the horrors I have seen. If I was that close to losing myself to the enemy that young, it would prove the same for anyone… Or… I was always guilty of my sins…?” he brooded. “A shallow, weak minded fool who only wanted one day in the sun, shrouded in darkness, every day. Lyra… oh little rosie … when she took that hit and held it inside, killing that part of him with it, I felt a part of myself just shatter into ashes… Her eyes were cold ice for so long after those lessons… I thought I would never see her again.”

Soon enough, he looked ahead to the glen she was aiming to lead him to with a sign of dread yet there was a shred of once lost innocence in his eyes.

“I have forgotten this feeling. There was never a time when I ever felt this way, except for a few…”

“Like whom?”

“My mother… Then there was Lily… and then Lyra, two of which I have failed outright. I feel no danger here and so I cannot step further, for I know I will be betrayed and everything I have worked for would be undone —“

“It will not be that way — Prince, that is a promise. This is someone who knows and they will help everyone we hold dear. I swear it! Just come with me, this once. Let me show you.”

Severus couldn’t bear to look her in the eye for one minute. Casting his gaze to the ground and he did not go for her reaching hand - Not at all.

“Whether this is a lie … or not. I shall see and determine for myself.” he warned, keeping his distance. “I am warning you — I have no room in my heart for any more treachery… Of what’s left of it…”

At that she nodded, respectfully. The agony he had to endure to get to this point in time was precious and so she understood as to why he was so cautious about it.

He swept passed the Dryad soon catching onto the distant sunlight that seemed to be trapped within this one part of the forest and oddly, it did not illuminate much else. The Wizard instantly felt a change in the air that almost took the breath right out of him. A fascinating, yet yearning peace warmed up in his chest as he stepped into the sunlight, very cautiously. There was a body upon one of the ledges between two grand pines… A massive golden body with a mane a brilliant as gold as the wind blew through it, it glistened like diamonds. Prince stopped not knowing how to process this at first…. This felt like a dream… As the Dryad joined his side, the great Head then turned to face them. The eyes were more human than ones he had ever seen, belonging to such a massive beast — Pure sunlight gold, full of mirth and a great knowledge that brought forth a score of sorrow. That face resembled that of a crown, for a King so great.

Right then… Prince felt the overpowering desire to stay humbled. All the pride and stubborness he had just vanished entirely… He felt small, worthless whilst in the presence of… whoever this was. It was not only not human, but far beyond that. Far beyond any magic. Had he just died just now… Was time even real?

Right then, the golden Beast rose from their perch on a pair of strong front arms, with a tail gracing behind them.

“I understand that you have much to ask me.” the Beast had spoken in a deep, profound voice, almost purring and rumbled like distant thunder. “Do not fear me, brave Knight.”

For a moment, it seemed that he could not even speak. Prince had a sense that this was a presence to be reckoned with.

“I find that… problematic, with all due respect.” he soon managed a response.

“With a drawn wand that I see, I do understand why. I vow to you that no harm shall come.”

“You know me enough to know my alias…. Who are you?”

“I am ASLAN. The Great Lion. I have come from a world that is not of your own, friend. I have come seeking the courageous, the trustworthy and the wise.”

At the sound of that mighty voice, it had seemed to have the Wizard in a state of peace, whether it was welcomed or not. The Lion knew it was something the weary man needed in his life, it was so lacking that the feeling was purely foreign to him. At that, Aslan held the most compassionate gleam in his golden eyes as he gently climbed his way down from the ledge, with so much power that he even shook the ground beneath Prince’s feet.

“This world has worn you down. I can see it, I can feel it… You must know now that I am no enemy. I have seen your beginning and your present. The rocky road you have traveled on as shook you to the point that you no longer believe in your own truth, yet you believe in others whom you hold dear. You have regrets and sorrows that can never be forgotten… You try to forget the past yet your soul still lives in it. It lives in it and you fear of the terrors of the past returning again. I am not here to humor you of this, but to encourage you to let free of that bind. It never defined you. If you let it free, your heart will heal.”

Prince’s eyes flashed as if something had just awoke within him and his brow furrowed once again, soon taking a step back.

“No one will ever have power over you again, Orpheus Prince… or are you still Severus Snape? The boy who supported and honored his mother to the very end of her days. He who tried to shield his childhood friend from the evils of another… He who had no control over such evils ever since the beginning?”

“DON’T. Severus is DEAD.” Prince soon spoke, his voice clearly on the verge of absolute agony. “… He had been killed along with his filthy excuse for a father, whom I was almost molded into…”

“You were never your father, Prince. He had chosen his fate long before you returned for Eileen. He had been given chance and chance again, and he still returned to what truly killed his soul, entirely. Whereas you, you hung on to a single thread and you managed to mold your own destiny. Severus Snape did not die. He only transformed…” Aslan’s powerful tone soothed further into a gentle and loving tune, even as a tear escaped Prince’s eye. “If Lily and her husband saw you now, they would be overjoyed. You carried on her tender work of raising their daughter, sparing her from evil, as they so wished on their last night. She always had faith in you. It broke her heart that day, but deeply she knew that you would make the wisest choice. This will be your choice to make. I only ask that you consider this offer with a calm heart.” said the Lion. “I do not desire you to be eaten by self loathing… That is not how others see you. The past no longer plays a part in your life NOW. You shan’t look back and compare, rather, look back and reflect of how different and more you have become ever since you had endured those events. I see a magical boy who escaped an abusive home, he who made a living for himself, from what he knew, he taught and therefore he learned… Instead of using your abilities to bring harm to others, you took that evil and created good out of it. You taught others like you to fight for independence and protection. That is no school you run. It is a home now. You are a magician who anyone can trust. Hence why I come to you now. I have been in silent observance, in search of magical blood worthy to aide my realm.”

At that, Prince rose his eyes to meet the Lion’s, deeply confused.

“I? Worthy enough? To aide the likes of you, whose able to flatten me with a mere stare?”

“You are worthy to me, Orpheus… Someone worth more than a thousand songbirds.” Aslan lovingly smiled. “Show me who you really are ~”

This was no challenge but this was a form of expression. The transformed Wizard, with his chest feeling as though it could burst unleashed a Patronus so bright that it trapped the entire glen in pure white light. In quiet tears, Prince freed a sprightly doe from his wand and she danced about the glen… even inviting the Dryad to prance with her.

“There she is…” Aslan softly whispered with a smile at the sight. “As bright as a spring day…”

“Just as I thought…” the Dryad laughed.

Prince watched his own creation be alive about the glen with a deep wistfulness before she gently came to his hand and he seemed to stroke her head.

“. . . what is it do you wish of me?” Prince soon asked, his soul feeling entirely free for once before solemnly facing the Lion who gently closed in.

[obscure-sentimentalist]

“You can stop pretending to be tough now. It’s just me.” - Merlyn Boys, any au you feel like it :) they are all amazing! And this prompt list is like 90% Merlyn Boys material hahaha it was really hard to pick just one.

From this prompt list

(Thank you, anon! Not sure if you’re the same anon who’s submitted a few other prompts previously, or if there are a few of you: either way, I appreciate your enjoyment of these boys!!!)

From a new AU, whose creation can be credited to @absentlyabbie after talking about some variations on this theme. We’ll see how this first outing goes.

“You can stop pretending to be tough now. It’s just me.”

Connor fights the And that’s why I need to be tough that instinctively wants to rise up and instead blows out an exaggerated breath, unfolding his arms from what was apparently a very “tough-guy” stance.

Given the meeting out of which he’d just walked (and then had to wait an additional ten minutes for Tommy to get free from), it would make sense.

“Well, that went… swimmingly,” he quips, but seeing as he’s not the twin who’s so blessed in that department, the comment takes off like a limply-thrown paper plane that dips into an immediate nosedive.

Tommy claps a supportive hand on his back before reaching over to smack the Down arrow. “I think it went as well as it could have gone, given the circumstances,” he counters. “I mean, we figured it wasn’t going to be a warm welcome, because it’s Dad, but we’ve ensured that Mom’s clinic is going to stay in family hands.”

Connor manages to crack a smile at that—it was a pretty big win, and Malcolm’s face upon finding out that Tommy was not only refusing to sign off on his portion of the clinic, but had unearthed his presumed-dead-at-birth twin brother to outvote their father on the sale made for satisfying icing on the cake.

There are going to be many more challenges to come—crucial, life-altering ones—but at the very least, Connor can give his brother this.

Tommy fully understands what an incredible gift it is, as his expression goes from calmly pleased to igniting with the brightest, face-splitting grin imaginable. “Thank you,” he finally says, turning to clutch at Connor’s shoulders with both hands before pulling him in for an appreciative hug. “You know, I didn’t want to drag you into all of this…”

Connor shakes his head, tightening his hold on his brother in reassurance. “I offered to help. It was the very least I could do.”

Tommy pulls back a bit, joy starting to bleed out of his face as something else settles in. “Still…”

The elevator doors clank open without fanfare, bringing the hug to an end in order to board. Connor steps in first, slapping the Lobby button before settling in the back-right corner; while Tommy lags behind, his movements lead-heavy as if his body’s reacting to a realization that’s slowly coming to him.

By the time the doors have closed, it’s clear he’s reached it, and the celebratory times get yanked under by reality.

“We just told Dad,” Tommy says, voice pitching high in panic at the end as the weight of that revelation starts to sink in. “We just told Dad, and we told him in regards to an actual business matter. That means he’s going to have to go back to whatever buyer he had lined up and say, ‘Sorry, no can do, my son pulled his secret brother out of a hat and they ganged up on me, and, in an uncharacteristic move, I caved.’ There is no way that’s not going to get attention.”

“I agree.” Connor calmly folds his arms across his chest and leans against the back wall.

“You— you agree?” Tommy stammers, a loss for words as a cocktail of incredulity and irritation fizzes to the surface. “That’s all you have to say?”

That should set off alarm bells for Connor, get him to scramble to explain himself, to appease Tommy with a bit of anxiety and second-guessing. It’s what he would have done if he’d found himself in this situation years earlier, and his brother still expects to see that reaction. But this is one mask Connor is much too tired to pull up.

And so, he just nods.

Tommy lets out some sort of strangled, frustrated noise, before throwing the emergency stop switch.

Connor raises an eyebrow, giving his brother a Look.

Not that Tommy sees it, keeping his back turned to Connor as he runs a hand through his hair and makes as if he wants to pace. The indecision doesn’t last, though, and he turns to Connor, hand dropping limply to his side. “I just… Connie, what the hell is going on with you?”

Connor straightens at that, finally understanding what a bad move he’s made. He’d pinned too much on Tommy still being ecstatic over getting the clinic back (and, admittedly, his at-times less-than-stellar attention to detail), hoping that would be enough of a distraction to drop the matter with a shake of the head and mild annoyance. This is getting them into dangerous territory.

“First you—not that I’m mad, but without telling me—pack yourself up and move from Gotham to Starling,” Tommy notes, ticking it off on his finger. “Related to that, you drop your surgical residency with less than a year and a half to go, making no moves to transfer and pick it back up, and this doesn’t faze you at all?”

Connor opens his mouth and makes a hand motion with the intent of correcting his brother (quitting his residency at Gotham Memorial does, actually, mean something to him, and it was a difficult decision to make), but Tommy steamrolls over that attempt.

“And now, the grand pooh-bah of them all: after all this time of us deciding not to tell Dad or go public with ‘Surprise, it’s Twins!’ you throw it out the window, and are in no way concerned that you just nuked your anonymity?” Chest heaving, Tommy lets his shoulders drop and stares back at Connor almost helplessly. “I swear, I understand you even less than I do Oliver, these days.”

Oh, that’s a cutting remark, even if Tommy doesn’t fully realize it.

Connor sags against the wall, feeling physically backed into a corner as well as verbally. He brings a hand up to scrub the lower half of his face in thought, the short hairs of his scruff tickling his palm in a distantly familiar way. There’s no easy way out of this one, and as much as Connor is always up for a challenge, neither of the angles he’s currently entertaining seem like they’ll end well.

Option #1: Brush it off. Call it a delayed quarter-life crisis, a bit of soul-searching, something blasé, nothing to get all up-in-arms about. Pull a page from Queen’s book and lie.

Likely result? Tommy doesn’t take that as truth for a second. Something shatters irreparably between the twins.

Option #2, though…

Even if Tommy believes him (debatable, given the nature of the truth), Connor made a promise to himself that this was a burden he’d shoulder himself. No one else—especially not Tommy—should have to live with the same extent, the same specifics, of his knowledge.

The silence is closing in, though, and the longer Connor waits, the weaker Tommy’s faith and trust in him will become. It’s time to make a choice.

In the end, he opts for a bit of both.

“It— It’s kind of embarrassing, really,” Connor starts, forcing a nervous laugh up around the lump in his throat. “But I had this dream—nightmare, actually, and on New Year’s Day at that. I… don’t really remember the details, but when I woke up, it was with this really profound sense of loss.” He trails off, gulping a shaky breath in and cautiously lifting his gaze to meet Tommy’s.

It guts Connor all over again to see how his brother’s face plummets into a look of horrified understanding.

“Maybe not my finest hour, but I panicked,” Connor continues, hunching his shoulders slightly for effect. “Dropped everything, quit my residency, started looking up places in Starling. From the few scraps that lingered of that dream after I woke up, I got the impression that I had a lot of regrets—like, I never got the smug satisfaction of watching Dad’s face melt when I came walking through the door.” He allows a small smile to tug at his lips.

It’s infectious, as Tommy’s soon grappling with his own. “Wish I’d gotten that on camera.”

“You and me both,” Connor agrees, shaking his head. After a moment, he leans it back against the wall, making a point of diverting his eyes away from his brother. “But it was stuff like that. Things I could have done but didn’t, others I would never have even thought of in the moment, and still more that if given the opportunity, I would ch-…” He chokes on the word.

That’s tripping a little too close for comfort than these half-truths are supposed to.

Thankfully, Tommy misses that fumble, and his face softens at the rest of Connor’s words. “I get it, in a weirdly overreacting way,” he admits. “We’ve lost a lot of time in our lives that we should have had as brothers, and having something like that hit… it has to mess with your head.

“But Connor,” Tommy pauses, reaching out to place a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “It was a dream, in the end. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.” He winces. “So, you maybe could have waited on the big move instead of derailing your career.”

Connor groans at that and bats Tommy’s hand away. “I’ve made worse decisions, but that still wasn’t one of my best.”

“Hey, don’t start talking to me about terrible decisions,” Tommy warns as he finally turns forward again and switches the emergency stop off. As the lights come back on and they continue their descent, he shoots a grin over his shoulder. “On the bright side, though, at least that’ll dock you a few points and you’ll only beat me by a slight margin to be the favorite twin in the public’s eye. Because, you know, that’s going to be a thing now.”

Connor makes a face at that, which just makes Tommy toss his head back and laugh, eyes squeezed shut in mirth.

The distraction gives Connor the opening to let his expression fall and take a moment to fully process everything that’s just transpired.

Revealing himself to Malcolm was a risk, but the situation called for it, and frankly, it would have had to happen sooner or later. At least now Connor officially has an in, and can start doing everything in his power to make sure their father is brought down before he even tries to do the same to the city.

There’s still time—months, even—before the people of the Glades are truly in danger, but from Connor’s memory, the happier days Tommy has left are dwindling down to none. Things are going to blow up with Queen in a few weeks, by his estimate, and it won’t be much longer before Tommy pushes himself away from Laurel and into their father’s clutches, and by that point…

Well. It’s up to Connor to make sure things never get in the vicinity of that point.

Because these are the only things that matter:

Connor Rhodes woke up on New Year’s 2013 in his Gotham apartment. He went to sleep in Chicago in August 2019.

And he is going to save his brother even if it kills him.

[bazzybelle]

Carry On Countdown - Day Five

Notes: I wanted to write a Natasha inspired fic. I wanted to write a sweet fic involving her since her life was so intense and sadly cut way too short. Title inspired by “A Million Dreams” from The Greatest Showman soundtrack. 

Thank you @carryonsimoncarryonbaz for the beta-read. Also, so many thanks for the people who have been commenting and reblogging my work. I’m still a newbie here, and the love that everyone has been showing me is so wonderful.

Day 5 Prompt: Carry On Prequel

Title: A Million Dreams

________________________________________________________________

Every night I lie in bed, the brightest colours fill my head. A million dreams are keeping me awake.

NATASHA

June 14th, 1996

Positive.

Those two little blue lines, so simple, so plain. Yet they hold such a profound weight that I feel the need to take a moment to collect my thoughts. It does not do well for Natasha Pitch to come undone on account of two little blue lines. Still, I find myself sitting at my desk in my grand Watford Headmistress’ office, in absolute disbelief as I hold onto the pregnancy test in my hands. 

Positive. 

I had taken the test as soon as I suspected that something was off. I am like clockwork in every single aspect of my life. Never tardy, never irregular, never out of balance. So, when my monthly cycle skipped, I knew. I took the test (in between several Coven meetings at Watford - I am a very busy woman), and kept myself concealed in my ensuite lavatory (being Headmistress has its perks) as I waited for the results. 

Positive. 

I am pregnant. 

Alright. That was easy to admit.

If I had to guess, I could not be more than a few weeks along, a month at best. I should probably go see a doctor at some point, to verify that I am indeed with child. But honestly there were never any truly good doctors for magicians. There was Charles Wellbelove, who was making quite a name for himself amongst the Coven. I was considering it. He would have to be extremely discreet about the nature of my visits. I could not afford the good news getting out until I was ready to announce it. While the birth of a potential heir to the Pitch estate was a happy occasion, there would be others who would try to use my pregnancy (as well as my new maternal role) as a means to steal influence and discredit me.

It was bloody nonsense. 

Still, it would be prudent to keep the news a secret, for as long as possible. I shall obviously tell Malcolm as soon as possible. I had thought to maybe tell him that night. I am not the romantic sort, I honestly do not have time to be romantic. I will tell him in private, in our bedroom. Possibly in front of our fireplace, while holding his hands. 

Fine, I suppose I am a little romantic. 

I imagine Malcolm will be very happy with the news. We have been trying for a child for the last year, so Malcolm would be very much pleased with the good news. Personally, a part of me would have liked to wait a little bit more. I have been in the middle of several research projects, as well as revamping some of the programs offered at Watford. I had wanted to look into more classes involving music and poetry. I was hoping that the future generations of magicians could find a way to make musical magic more stable. I was also looking into offering more linguistics classes at Watford. There was still so much about the nature of our magic that we still did not know nor did we understand. Besides, deep down I, Natasha Pitch, am a scholar. I have always been that way. I can be the head of a dozen organizations and run everything and anything that the Coven needs me to, but at the end of the day, I live for reading and researching topics that deeply speak to me. 

Maybe this little one will follow my passions as well. That would be nice, to have another scholar in the family. 

I should probably tell Fiona, but my sister can barely keep a secret to save her life. I am starting to worry about my younger, more carefree sister. Fiona is not keeping the right sort of company and it worries me to no end. It is highly improper to trapeze about amongst the Normals, causing mayhem and anarchy wherever she goes. She will be graduating from Watford this year, and she needs to figure out what she wants to do with her life. She cannot spend the rest of her days living off the family’s money. 

But, Fiona is a worry for another day. I will most likely tell her. She is my baby sister after all, and despite my worries and apprehension, it will be better if I share my news with her. I can already hear Fiona’s snarky comments and her suggestions that I name the child Bowie or Cyndi. 

My sister is absurd. 

My hand moves tentatively to my stomach. I am pregnant. It is still a little bit of a shock to me. I will never admit this to anybody, but the idea of carrying a tiny life is terrifying. Are Malcolm and I ready to bring this child into the world? Neither one of us has had very warm childhoods. That life is not something I want for my child. Will I know how to provide the comfort and security of a safe family life? I truly do not know. 

I shake my head to rid myself of these negative thoughts. Pitches do not hide and second guess themselves. Pitches dive headfirst into adversity and fight. They fight until they cannot fight anymore. That was how I led my life thus far and it has done wonders for me. I will have no choice but to dive into motherhood in the same way and to trust my instincts with raising this little one. 

I become startled as my office door bursts open. I grab my wand, but I already know who has come to disturb me. There is only one person who would stride inside my office so fearlessly.

“There are so many stuffy old men hanging around your office, Tasha! Honestly, it would do you some good to get a few nice young lads around here!”

“What do you want, Fiona? Shouldn’t you be in the dining hall? Or at your drama lessons?”

“Drama lessons are cancelled dear sister. It’s the end of term! Which is also why I’m here! I am saving you from your stuffy meetings with the stuffy old men!” Fiona waves her hands over her head and attempts a small dramatic spin. 

I roll my eyes at her. Fiona is not one for propriety, but she is one for theatrics. Merlin help this child if Fiona will be allowed to influence it. I have plenty of difficulty handling one overly dramatic Pitch, let alone two. 

Fiona stalks over to where I am sitting. She is about to grab my hands when she notices the small stick on the desk. Before I can grab and hide it, Fiona jumps on it. 

Her grey eyes widen as she stares at the double lines. A full smile slowly spreads across her lips. I sigh. So much for Malcolm being the first to know.

“Tasha. Have you got a bun in the oven?”

I yank the stick from Fiona’s hands and throw it back into the desk. I then grab Fiona by the arm and start to lead her out of my office. “Fiona, I swear to Merlin if you tell ANYONE about this, I will personally see to it that you spend the remainder of your days eating your meals through a straw!”

“Oh come off it, Tasha! Who would I tell?” Fiona tears her arm away from me as I raise an eyebrow.

“Your delinquent friends for one!” Fiona rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. I am not amused by my sister’s laissez-faire attitude regarding my pregnancy. And of course she is not as worried as I am. Fiona never has anything to lose, being the second born and all. Fiona can afford to blabber about, and ignore common sense, so long as I am there to clean up her messes. Well, I cannot risk Fiona making yet another mess. 

“I mean it, Fiona. Give me your hand and swear that you will not tell anyone about this. I cannot afford to let this news reach the rest of the Coven until I am ready to announce it.”

Fiona shakes her head and grabs her own wand from the inside of her shirt sleeve. She takes my hand and offers her wand to me. I am the stronger magician out of the two of us. I tap the wand to our joined hands. “An Englishwoman’s word is her bond!” Fiona pulls her hand away and rubs it. 

“Christ Tasha! That spell? The last time you used that spell, I couldn’t feel my hand for a month!”

I smirk at my troublesome sister: “First of all, it wasn’t my fault you chose to sneak into my bedroom after promising me you wouldn’t. Second of all, I always did love that spell. Now, please leave. I am very busy.” I head towards the door. I am about to open it, when Fiona blocks it with her foot, slamming it shut again. 

“Just tell me one thing, sister. You are going to call the kid Bowie if it’s a boy, right? I’ll be burnt at the bloody stake before I let my favourite niece or nephew get one of those pompous ancient names that our family loves so much!” I force open the door and roughly shove my sister outside. I can hear Fiona laughing as I slam the door in her face. 

A deep sigh escapes my lips. I rub my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. I had not planned on Fiona knowing so soon, but I suppose it is better this way. It does feel good to have someone else know about the baby. And the spell I cast should give me plenty of assurance that Fiona will not spill the beans. Fiona hated not being able to use her hand for a month, she will not risk that punishment again. 

I still have a few more meetings scheduled for the rest of the day. They are to discuss funding for the next year, as well as contract negotiations and potential additions to the Watford library. All important and interesting topics to discuss and ponder over for hours on end. Discussions that would probably be better left for a different time. Maybe, for this one time, I can afford to take an evening to myself and my husband. An evening to tell him that our lives have changed for the better. That we will soon be expanding our family (in fact, we will be starting our new family). 

I hear another knock on her door. One of the younger magicians, a man named David, is waiting for me, with furrowed eyebrows, and an angry scowl on his face. 

“Headmistress Pitch. The other Coven members are waiting for you.”

“Thank you David. I won’t be much longer.” 

I gather myself and head towards the room that is used for Coven gatherings. It is a small room, with a long oval-shaped table, and twenty seats (one for each member of the Coven). I take my place at the head of the table and look at each Coven member’s bored, exhausted face. It has been a long day. No one will fault me for cancelling the rest of the meetings. I inhale a deep breath and address the stuffy old men. 

“Gentlemen. I thank you for joining me. I know that we have all had a very long and trying day. I think it would be in everyone’s best interest that we take the remainder of the evening off and reconvene tomorrow. We can all benefit from a good night’s rest before beginning discussions about literature and budgets. Yes?”

I let out a small sigh of relief when the other Coven members agree with me. They all quickly rise from their seats and begin to file out of the room. I follow behind them and walk back to my office. I sit at my desk once more and pull the pregnancy test out.

I am going to be a mother. I think to myself. I rub my stomach and smile. I turn to the phone on my desk and dial the number to the Hampshire Manor. Malcolm should have been working from home today. A smile spreads on my lips as I hear the voice of my husband on the end of the line. 

“Malcolm, darling? I am coming home early tonight. I have something to tell you. It’s important.”

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 236: Mr. Stark I Don’t

Previously on BnHA: We kicked off Year Five Of This Bullshit with another Tomura flashback! Once upon a time there was a boy named Tenko. Little Tenko was very cute and happened to have a real prick of a father who forbid his kids from talking about heroes and punished them severely when they broke that rule. Like, he locked Tenko outside for hours and even fucking hit him when he found out he looked at that picture of Nana. It was super fucked up and very unpleasant to read, and on top of that Horikoshi peppered the entire chapter with hints that the supposedly quirkless Tenko was slowly developing his Decay quirk, so much of the chapter was also spent waiting for that shoe to drop. The chapter ended with a sobbing Tenko hugging his dog Mon-chan (a very good boy) and thinking that he hated everyone, as the scene slowly faded to black. After that we don’t know what happened. Presumably Mon-chan went to live on a farm with lots of other puppies where he could spend the rest of his days in cute doggy bliss. I’m sure Horikoshi will allow me to continue indulging in this theory.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi doesn’t let me indulge in shit! Horikoshi is all “lol bitch you thought!!” Horikoshi shows us the dead dog!! Horikoshi shows us the scared and sobbing child! Horikoshi shows us the sister! Horikoshi shows us the grandma and grandpa and the mom! Meanwhile poor Kotaro is all, “I suddenly wonder where my whole family has gone,” and goes outside and sees All Of That and is horror-struck. Through a series of terrible but also hilarious coincidences he accidentally smacks Tenko with a big stick, and Tenko suddenly realizes he’d like nothing more than to just STRAIGHT UP!! MURDER HIS DAD!! and so he does. And that’s basically it, guys. That’s my summary of the chapter. I would also like to add that for some reason I ended up fucking loving it in the end, though it was a real roller coaster back and forth until those last few pages. So yeah. Might want to steer clear of me, because I’m sure that’s some kind of red flag there. This motherfucking chapter, guys. I don’t even know.

(All comments are my unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity immediately afterward, and added one or two ETAs in the process, but aside from that there are no changes.)

thank you anon but rest assured I’m already filled with a deep and profound dread. so we’re good

oh. heh

well that’s just. okay. sure. so a whole nother chapter of this. okay yeah that’s great

oh sweet jesus mary joseph oh shit oh fuck oh SHIT

THAT’S NOT A FARM!! HORIKOSHI!! WE HAD A DEAL! YOU SET ME UP

holy shit!?!? and this is only the start of the chapter oh god. oh god oh god. MR. STARK I DON’T

no thank you I want to return it. reason: item exactly as described. I don’t know what I was expecting. we knew exactly what was going to happen. but I still -- !!

how is the anime going to show this?? no one even wants to watch the senseless blood and violence for once. does Japan do those warning things where a “the following program includes scenes of graphic violence that may be disturbing to some viewers” screen appears before the thing airs? if not they should probably consider it. maybe change “some” to “all”, because let’s be real

anyway so guys I’m waiting for Horikoshi to email me my free shipping label so I can send this back, but in the meantime let’s continue to read I guess

WOW

THAT’S A DEAD DOG. THAT DOG IS LYING IN PIECES IN A POOL OF HIS OWN BLOOD, HUFFING HIS LAST HUFFS. HORIKOSHI REALLY DREW THAT. THAT IMAGE WAS BURNED INTO TENKO’S MIND FOR THE REST OF HIS EXISTENCE AND NOW I GET TO LIVE WITH IT AS WELL. WELL THAT’S JUST REALLY FUCKING GREAT. YIPPY SKIPPY

OH JOY

HANA GO BACK INSIDE, IF HORIKOSHI GRAPHICALLY DRAWS YOU BEING BLOWN INTO CHUNKS BY THIS FUCKING QUIRK I’M FUCKING DONE AND I QUIT. AND I KIND OF NEED TO CONTINUE UNTIL I AT LEAST LEARN BAKUGOU’S FUCKING HERO NAME, SO I’M COUNTING ON YOU HERE OKAY

by the way, this is weird though. because that didn’t look anything like the prior instances where we’ve seen Tomura use his quirk! there was no crumbling apart, no dust ominously drifting away on the breeze. it was more like poor Mon-chan just kind of fell apart into pieces. is this because the quirk is still developing and not yet at full power? or is this more AFO shenanigans in play. it at least explains why it was plausible for their hands to be intact once everything was said and done though

really I’m just trying to talk myself into believing that this didn’t actually happen and is all some grand fucked up psych out and his family is actually fine. I saw this post going around about Tenko’s mole (you know, the one on his chin) not being present in all the scenes last chapter, and the theory was that the scenes where he doesn’t have the mole were not actually real and were implanted by AFO. I personally think this is a reach, but I’m also prepared to 100% subscribe to this theory if and when anything happens to this precious baby girl when I click to the next page you guys. we shall see

okay so Hana’s apologizing because I guess she’s the one that ratted him out to their dad? girl it’s okay you were under a lot of pressure. it’s not like it’s your fault Kotaro flew off the deep end and started beating your brother

anyways but this is currently the least of your worries though oh god. she hasn’t noticed yet, and Tenko’s sobbing and trying to talk to her but his voice isn’t working??

is that because he’s traumatized, or because this is in fact a fake memory? not being able to warn a beloved person of an imminent danger is basic nightmares 101, I’m just saying. I’m actually a bit more convinced than I was just a minute ago

anyway so now she sees the dead dog, and I have a new least favorite panel in the entire series, great

hello, I hate everything about this. what the actual fuck

now she’s turning to run and I SWEAR TO GOD if Tenko instinctively reaches out to grab her... shit. I fucking...

-- WHAT DID I JUST -- !! !!!

son of a bitch. fuck. I’m literally frozen in place and having trouble willing myself to scroll down to see the rest of this. like, can we seriously just stop here. fuck!!

shit. I need a minute. holy fucking shit. I want an actual apology from Horikoshi, and an explanation for why he thought his readers apparently lacked the imagination to fill in the rest of the blanks themselves. like, I was perfectly fine with all of this just being Very Much Implied, dude. seriously

fuck me. I’m just gonna do it. power through the rest of the chapter and assess the resulting psychological damage once it’s all over and done with. okay deep breath. we’re going in

oh honey. oh baby no. oh my god the “crack crack” sound effects again, and the lines of blood appearing oh god

and of course he didn’t realize what was happening at first, didn’t realize it was him. honey it’s not your fault. but you now officially have Murder Rights to All for One, and if anyone else gets to deal the final blow I will fucking sue

hahaha, fuck

at least he didn’t go into the same level of detail as with the fucking dog. but I’m still calling the police, holy shit

if anything, Tenko’s reaction actually makes this even worse than Mon-chan’s death, though. and you know, also the fact that it was a six-year-old girl. who died terrified and in agony and not knowing why this was happening to her. fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

somewhere Ito Junji is reading this and wishing he’d come up with this shit. Nakayama Masaaki is taking notes. Stephen King is waking up in a cold sweat thinking to himself that for some reason he really wants to start reading shounen manga all of a sudden

sob now everyone is running outside except for his father. of course. saving the best for last. it’s almost as though someone fucking engineered all of this to make it as psychologically damaging to the kid as possible! but who could possibly be twisted enough to do something like that? oh hey there All for One, you sure look happy. why are you smiling so much. what do you mean, it’s a secret. you son of a bitch

hey do you guys want to see the expression of a mother seeing her youngest child screaming and sobbing and covered in blood and surrounded by the bloodied remains of a dead dog and something else that is hopefully unidentifiable because if not holy shit for real? anyways, do you? you don’t? sure you do. Horikoshi thinks you do, so here it is

t-minus five seconds before the level of Horrifying escalates yet again! five... four... three...

oh shit??

did he do that thing again?? disintegrate them without even touching?? or did we just jump-cut to right afterward? because if it’s the latter, you mean to tell me we did that with the mom and grandparents but couldn’t do it with Hana and the dog!? and if it’s the former then that’s really interesting though, because I was under the impression he’d been incapable of that until just a few chapters ago when the grown-up him awakened the ability in the middle of Deika City. maybe it’s something he can only do when under extreme mental duress

oh wait, never mind, I scrolled a bit further down and it seems like his mom is still alive. I guess that was Hana he was reaching out towards there. anyways so here’s his mom’s horrified face again

actually, wait. before we click to the next page, let me go back to the four panels right above these, because this is actually really interesting and deserves more analysis

I really like this actually. Horikoshi acknowledging that even though his mother and grandparents were very kind and loving, they were still complicit in his suffering in a way because they knew what was going on, and they let it happen. this is actually huge, and I’m really grateful to Horikoshi for calling attention to it and pointing out how damaging that was. I’m actually very pleasantly surprised to see it acknowledged

but maybe I shouldn’t be, because this is after all something that’s very important to the story’s themes of heroism. my thoughts immediately ran to Horikoshi’s own favorite hero, Spider-Man, and the whole “with great power comes great responsibility” thing. if someone needs help, and you’re in a position where you could do something but you choose to not take action, then you do bear some responsibility for what follows. “when you can do the things that I can, but you don’t, and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you”

just, this is a theme that has always resonated with me, and one of the most important themes of hero stories in general. and obviously I’m not saying Tenko’s mom and grandparents are in any way bad people, or that what happened is their fault, because it’s not! but all the same they could have done something and they didn’t, and if you were to ask me what I think is the most essential, defining aspect of what makes someone a hero, I would say it’s that. the difference between stepping in, and not stepping in. if you were to boil it down to one single point, that would be it. a hero is someone who helps

anyway. so I really like that. maybe I won’t send this chapter back after all

OR MAYBE I WILL AND NEVER FUCKING MIND!! I DON’T!! FEEL SO GOOD!! MR. STARK!!

holy shit you guys. I have no words. somewhere the person who wrote Mufasa’s death scene is taking notes. the person who wrote Littlefoot’s mom’s death is shook. the person who wrote Bambi’s mom’s death is rubbing their chin and thinking, “honestly mine is still more traumatizing, but I can still respect that”

meanwhile I, a millennial forged in the ashes of all of those childhood-defining fictional tragedies, am going to just suck it up and move on because fuck. my whole life has been preparing me for this day

oh my fucking god

fuck me why did I laugh. I fucking lost it just now. fucking gallows humor, idk

just. his entire family is being blown to little bits in the backyard, and Kotaro cracks open his fucking door and peers his head out like “hmm I thought I heard something just now. hey, where is everyone. did I miss something.” no you didn’t miss anything Kotaro, go back inside

he looks like a kid who’s not sure if he just heard the ice cream man driving by

sob. “better go investigate”

look what happened while you were taking your fucking nap, Kotaro. JUST LOOK! your son disintegrated your whole entire family and uprooted a fucking tree somehow. jesus christ

you know, the irony is I bet you that despite all of his hang-ups, he’s probably thinking “okay maybe a hero would come in fucking handy right about now”

oh shit

“you think this is a fucking joke?!” Horikoshi screams, shoving this page in my face. “you’re just going to sit there and keep making your cute little remarks?? A FAMILY IS DEAD!!” okay jeez I get it fuck

oh no, oh shit for real though I can’t

he’s so scared and traumatized and now he knows, he knows it was him who did it and he can’t bear it, and even though he hates his dad, he’s still his dad, and he’s terrified and looking for comfort from anyone at this point oh god

and for Kotaro to see his son like this, and the rest of his family dead in such a horrifying way! just!!

and fuck me, because if he reaches out to try and comfort him, if he ends up dying because his better instincts finally take over now of all fucking times; if he tries to help and Tenko knows what’s going to happen when they touch and tries to stop him but can’t...

okay but what

Tenko’s quirk is really behaving strangely though. like this is ridiculous. at this rate he’s gonna take the whole house down with him

also there’s no way all of the neighbors just sat by all la dee da and didn’t go to investigate afterwards. 100% AFO had a hand in all this. shit

now also feels like a good time to point out, before we wrap this all up, that with Kotaro being the only one still alive now, there is no one around to shout “Tenko, no...!” when that hand is reaching out to his forehead. so I’m very curious to see how Horikoshi plays this out, because now more than ever I’m suspecting that the altered memory theory is really true

(ETA: well. shit.)

anyway, so now what looks like a tree pruner is just randomly falling into Kotaro’s hands, for some reason. just like we all expected

of all the ways I imagined this actually playing out, this was not one of them

hmm, interesting

so did he disintegrate the pruner and then get pissed at his dad thinking he was trying to hurt him again? and then instinct just took over? guess we’re about to see

oh SHIT!!!

shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit

just, imagine like another 7 paragraphs of me just typing out “shit” over and over again. I don’t feel like actually doing it, but that’s basically an accurate summation of my thought process right now

I bet even AFO wasn’t expecting that. I picture him whistling softly from his hiding place nearby, watching all of this go down and making that excited Andy Dwyer face to nobody in particular

holy fucking shit, holy hell

guys I just decided this is actually my favorite villain origin story of all time. just like that. holy shit. this page though

okay you know what, let me just finish this up, and then I’ll try to sort out all of my messed up feelings. one more page to go I think. probably his hair turning white

why didn’t his hair turn white. Horikoshi you’re such a fucking troll

(ETA: or did it start to change though?? it’s really hard to tell with the shading on this page tbh. but it does seem to be lighter than his shirt, and closer to the shade of his pants instead. but I can’t tell if that’s just due to the lighting here or not. anyways.)

anyways, wow. so that’s the end. let me just sit down here for a moment and try to process this

that page, though. that mental break. the idea of him being so overwhelmed by the pain and trauma of what just happened that when his dad shows up and tries (from his perspective) to hurt him again, his mind just goes !! and snaps and goes “you know what, this is better, let’s just reframe all this shit to make it a good thing so that we can cope, because to hell with that. big fat nope to the alternative, right there! yeah no thanks we are not going to do that”

and him realizing that he finally has the power to stand up to his father and stop him from hurting him. and probably a part of him is also irrationally blaming his dad for being the reason this all happened, because it’s much easier to assign blame to something tangible here, rather than it all being a freak tragic accident that no one could have prevented. (or worse, his own fault. which it isn’t, but I’m sure he subconsciously blames himself regardless, so)

and even better if the person to blame is someone you already hated. so yes, that’s much better, let’s just do that

and that whole “somewhere deep in my heart” thing, I don’t buy that for a second to be honest. but I do believe that he believes that. that for his own self-preservation he desperately latched on to this idea and convinced himself that he’d wanted this all along. that it felt good. fine, then, I’ll become a monster to save myself

I keep going back to look at his face, though. and just. holy shit. if you’d told me a week ago or even five minutes ago that Horikoshi would write out the entire thing, all of it, in all of its sickeningly detailed glory, that he would just say “fuck it” and go all out, and that I would go from “take it back” to “okay I’ll allow it” to “you can pry this incredibly fucked up chapter out of my cold dead hands” in the span of three pages, I would have thought you were insane. and yet here we are. and it is insane. and I’m fairly disturbed by my own heel-turn here actually, but I can’t deny it though

just, shit. that was so good. I’m blown away by how good that was. Deku, stop looking at me like that

you know what, you don’t get to judge me, kid, okay. shut up

anyway guys, so that was one hell of a ride. I learned some things about myself, like that I will follow this maniac of a mangaka into much deeper and more fucked up chasms than I ever expected. and Tomura learned some things about himself, and I have a lot of Concerns about those things, but I guess that’ll just have to wait until next week! all the best until then, everyone

[angst-fairygodmother]

How about: “I wasn’t lying when I told you I loved you.” + “Who cares what they think?” for Valdo x reader? :3

A/N: A slight tweak of the exact wording of the prompt, but I think you’ll forgive me :) Word Count: 1772 Content Warning: a PG-13 level of swearing (exactly one), self-pity/self-depreciation

“Valdo Marx!” the high, somewhat nasally voice rang out over the banquet hall as some countess you couldn’t name approached. “It’s been so long since you’ve graced us with your presence. There were even rumors that you had died!” Her big, bright blue eyes batted coquettishly at him.

“Well,” he said with a smirk and a chuckle. “How dramatic. As you can see, I am quite alive and well. I simply took some time away from court to chase a particularly…ornery muse and create new material.”

You shot him a playful glare and caught his smirk at the descriptor.

“Will we hear some of it tonight?” she clasped his hand in both of hers and drew it to her chest entreatingly. “It would be oh so grand for you to perform.”

You rolled your eyes from beside him, familiar and bored of this courtly song and dance.

“I’m sure something can be arranged, my lady,” he acquiesced. “Although, I am here as a guest tonight, so I may have to talk it over with my dear Y/N.”

“Oh!” the lady gasped, as if only just noticing you standing there. “Y/N? I’m unfamiliar with the name. Where is your family from?” the cock of her head reminded you of the little spaniels many nobles had recently decided it was fashionable to carry around.

“Nowhere,” you said tersely before smiling coldly. “I got here on my own merit. You’d be surprised the doors that open when you save a queen’s life.”

Valdo beamed proudly by your shoulder as the lady stammered and floundered for how to respond. It was true that you had been invited to court for as long as you wished to stay, and promised any number of lavish rewards after your quick thinking had halted an assassination attempt in the market earlier that day. And most of the court had been smart enough to catch the gossip quickly and pay you due respect.

“Yes, it was a quite the sight to witness,” he purred. “Had I more time before tonight, I would surely have crafted my greatest ballad yet about their daring rescue. And done without ever so much as a hair out of place. Such a clever thing, my Y/N. Nearly as clever as beautiful. I am so lucky to love them, and hardly deserving of it.”

You preened under his praise and the lady murmured some excuse to duck away, flushed with embarrassment.

“There was no need to tease her like that,” you scolded playfully as soon as she was out of earshot.

“Who was teasing, love? I meant every word of it. And she was the one who didn’t know who you were.”

“None of them actually know. Or care. I am a merely the newest, shiny little toy. Like the lapdogs. By next week, I’ll be back in the kennels, muzzled and forgotten in favor of something else when the novelty wears off.”

‘It’ll wear off for him to,’ a treacherous voice whispered in the back of your mind. ‘How long do you really think you can carry on this charade before Valdo Marx finds something prettier and more agreeable?’

“Muzzled? Now there’s a thought…” his eyebrows wagged salaciously and you slapped his chest just hard enough to make him gasp out a breath.

“Don’t you start, Valdo Marx,” you threatened, a finger pointed into his face.

“Oh, pearl of my heart, but it is so much fun to tease you.”

“I want to get through tonight with a modicum of dignity. And I’m frankly surprised that you don’t.”

“Dignity is all in the presentation, darling.”

“Speaking of,” you sighed and dropped your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “That very large and imposing looking man in armor is staring at us pointedly. I think it’s time to go meet the royals.”

~

Your face burned with humiliation. The queen had been kind enough as you stumbled through appropriate courtly greetings, the motions and words feeling stiff and unfamiliar, disjointed, like a puppet with tangled strings. And the king had, perhaps even more blessedly, been aloof. But the crown prince – a skinny, pimply, young monster not yet through puberty – had brayed like a donkey and called the attention of a half-dozen courtiers to your every error, and they all tittered behind handkerchiefs and fans and gloved fingers. You had stared down at your own, exposed in all their calloused, bitten-nailed glory. For some reason, that small difference had been enough to spur tears in your eyes and, mumbling an apology and a thanks for their graciousness, you had fled.

Valdo found you, leaning with a white knuckled grip, on one of the balconies far from the throne room.

“If you’re planning to vault yourself over the edge and escape into the lawns as your pose suggests,” he called softly as he approached. “I would point out that not only are we on the second story, but there are rose bushes right below us and I would hate to see the most wonderful face on the continent so torn up.”

His arm slid around your waist, pulling you close so that he could press a kiss to your temple just in time to hear you mutter “idiot, absolute idiot.”

“The prince? Absolutely,” he answered, trying to pretend you were doing anything other than disparaging yourself. “But he’s young, there’s still a chance he’ll grow out of it before he takes the throne. Or someone will beat it out of him.”

“No,” you scoffed. “Me. I was a fool to think I could even remotely fit in here, even with your tutelage this afternoon.”

“In your defense, I wasn’t the best instructor, but I was…distracted.” He pressed another kiss to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “Horribly distracted.”

“I’m serious Valdo,” you tried to pull away from him, but he kept his hold firm. “I’m a joke. They’re all in there laughing at this idiotic country bumpkin playing at courtier. I wanted to belong, for you, so that you weren’t so embarrassed to bring me to functions and could go back to performing in palaces and grand estates where you belong but I just can’t. I was stupid to think I could.”

“Stop.” He moved his hands to rest firmly on your shoulders. “Y/N, listen to me.”

He ducked his head to force you to look in his eyes, and though you tried not to, you gravitated naturally to meet his emerald gaze, a natural sense of calm flooding over you at the tenderness you found there. “Are you listening, dearest?”

You nodded meekly.

“Good. Because what I’m about to say is very profound and important. Ready?”

You nodded again, fighting a smile at his dramatics.

“Fuck ‘em.” He whispered, leaning close so that the words, and his facial hair, brushed against your ear.

“What?” you laughed incredulously at hearing him swear, especially in such a serious and impassioned tone.

“Is that not how you would put it?”

“I see. I’ve been a terrible influence on you, and ruined your genteel demeanor.” You tried to keep the joke light, but couldn’t help the darkness that crept over your face at the thought of it being just another thing you couldn’t do right for him.

“I’m serious, Y/N. Who cares what they think?”

You paused, biting your lip and looking down at the sliver of ground between you. “Well I mean…I thought…you did? You’re Valdo Marx. You should be here, courting rich patrons and lovers and charming the all sorts of people. Not burdened by me.”

He sighed, leaning one hip against the railing and crooking a finger under your chin to pull your face back up toward his.

“I would be lying if I said I never considered my reputation. But there are things much more valuable to me than it, and I can’t be bothered anymore with anyone who thinks less than the absolute highest of you.”

You felt the tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes and reached up anxiously to brush them away before they could fall.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I loved you, Y/N. I truly do. With all my heart. And I will give all of this up a thousand times over to live in a hovel if that’s what it takes to have you in my life.”

“A hovel? Really?”

“Yes. I mean I would much prefer not a hovel. A modest townhouse at the least. In a city, a capital or near one of the universities, I’ll still need to ply my craft somewhere. And I’d be terribly frightened that you’d get bored or sick of me and use your innumerable talents to make my body disappear if we were out in the middle of nowhere. But if isolation is what you truly wanted, I would find a way to make it work.” His eyes shone in the distant candlelight as he carried on.

“Take it easy, Valdo,” you laughed. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say all that talk sounded very,” you gestured vaguely as you sought the right word. “Future-y. Like you’re expecting us to settle down soon.”

“Well…” he carded a nervous hand through his curls and your fingers itched  beyond reason to replace it with your own.

“What? Why would we do that? I thought we both loved this wandering life…Do you know something I don’t?”

“It’s…well…a bit more hopeful than that…” you had never seen him so worked up, and his nervous energy was beginning to bleed into your own.

“Out with it.” You ordered, hoping some firmness would get him to pull himself together.

He sighed. “I hadn’t planned to do this tonight, or so shortly after you had been insulted and upset, which it is only by virtue of him being a future king and therefore an important ally to cultivate that I did not challenge him to a duel for that you know…”

You raised an eyebrow. “Right, and him being only about twelve-years-old had nothing to do with it?”

He shrugged, as if to suggest that he would in fact have challenged a child to a fight in your name.

“Y/N. Sun and stars in my sky. Deity made flesh and stooped low to love me. Grandest muse, all I could ever ask for and more. I have no right. I am a cad and a wastrel and do not deserve you. But I bare my heart before you, and ask you to take it, let it be yours forever, let me be yours,” he slowly sank down in front of you. “As your husband?”

[bethkerring]

9 Reasons to Read Big Magic

1. It takes writing seriously. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more passionate about my own writing—and more inspired about my life as a writer—than after reading Big Magic. For the first time probably ever, I really thought about how important writing is to me as a person and to others who read it: how it can transform someone’s life, inspire them to make a change, and how it can make me a happier and more complete person. Creating things has always been an essential part of my life, but this book not only affirms that, but inspires me to always make room for it, in big or small ways, because creation can both bring tremendous joy and keep you from slipping into (self-)destruction.

2. It doesn’t take writing seriously at all. Yes, this book contradicts itself. A lot. And does it both intentionally and effectively. Yes, it takes writing seriously, but it’s also an important reminder that writing isn’t (or at least need not be) nearly as serious as we often make it. It’s not a matter of life and death. We’re creating entertainment, something that makes life brighter and happier, and may even change the world in some small way, but not something worth the pain that many artists insist on putting themselves through for its sake. Which leads into #3.

3. It reminds you that sacrificing yourself for your art isn’t a virtue. This was honestly the first time I really thought about my own self-sacrificial tendencies (as an artist and in general). Artists aren’t alone in this, but they take quite a bit of pride in putting themselves through hell for the sake of their work, as if this automatically makes them a better creator or even as if their work depends on their suffering. As Elizabeth Gilbert repeatedly points out, this is BS. If you want to suffer, you certainly can, but it’s unlikely to help your work—and even if it does help your work, even if your work ends up tremendously successful, you will be miserable (or even end up dying early) because of it, and entertaining others is just not worth that.

4. It’s realistic. You might think that a book written by a best-selling author might talk about, well, how to write a best-selling book, or even present that as a goal. But Elizabeth Gilbert, while acknowledging her own success, doesn’t put it down to skill or hard work. She certainly does have skill, and she did and does work hard, but that’s simply not enough to guarantee a book will sell millions of copies: luck still plays a huge role. Though she gives her best wishes that writers will find that kind of success, if they want it, she reminds them that a lot of it is out of their control. She also reminds writers that their work alone may not always support them financially, and encourages them to find other ways to make money, so they won’t feel so desperate for their art to do so. This might sound like the old “writing doesn’t make money” or “don’t quit your day job” advice, but the rationale she gives is to not only ensure your own life and comfort, but to ensure that your art doesn’t become a source of stress when it doesn’t “pay up,” which could potentially lead you to lose your inspiration and love for your craft. She also makes something very clear: just because art isn’t a full-time career does not mean that it is a failed pursuit.

5. It’s magical. Let’s be clear here: I’m not a strong believer in paranormal phenomenon, magic, or anything else of the sort. I see nothing wrong with it if it’s not hurting anyone, but it’s usually not my thing. But Big Magic, as the title suggests, discusses writing in a way that is, both figuratively and literally, magical, talking about ideas as sentient beings that search for a creator to bring them to life. Even if you brush this off in a literal sense, most of us could use a little more magic in our lives, and this particular type of magic is fun to imagine, regardless of whether you take it seriously, and also encourages writers to look at their ideas and their work a little differently—as I’ll expand upon in #8.

6. It’s funny, witty, and blunt. This one really speaks for itself. I adore Elizabeth Gilbert’s writing style. It feels like having a conversation (albeit one-sided) with a good friend, who isn’t afraid to make jokes, tell fun stories, and even swear now and then. I feel like I’m reading a book from a human being, someone who is both deeply wise and incredibly approachable, which makes her insight, even when it surprises me, much easier to accept.

7. It reminds you to fall (back) in love with your art. I don’t think it would be exaggerating to say that this book is, in part, a love letter to creativity and the products thereof. I see so many artists that, in the pursuit of proving that their work is real and serious, lose touch with their love for their creations. Gilbert reminds us of that love, and gives several very helpful tips on how to find it again if you’ve lost it. She also reminds us how important it is to keep that love and to create for the joy of it, whether your art is a part-time hobby or a full-time career.

8. It gives a new perspective on inspiration. I won’t try to explain all the details because I don’t want to go on forever, but in short, Gilbert’s view of inspiration is different than any I’ve seen—but is apparently one that was held by many people in certain ancient cultures. It’s magical, as referenced in #5, but also freeing, because it presents inspiration as something that comes from outside the self, instead of inside it. If you’ve ever felt like a failure because you couldn’t find your inspiration for a while, I think you’ll find this perspective both encouraging and refreshing—whether or not you believe the more supernatural aspects of the idea.

9. It gives a new perspective on art and what it means for your life. This ties in a little with #2 and #7, but also stands on its own. So often, artists—including writers—feel such an intense personal responsibility with their art: that it needs to change the world, be profound, or live up to certain grand expectations. And of course, we should always consider what effect our work will have on the world, to avoid hurting others whenever possible. But as I mentioned in #2, art is, in and of itself, a form of entertainment: of bringing joy to your life and those around you. It doesn’t have to transform the world and it doesn’t have to be the best thing that’s ever been written. No one else even has to see it, if you don’t want to share it. It can just be a way to make your own life better, to bring you more joy during your short time on this planet, and that, Gilbert reminds us, is as worthy a cause as any.

[silvvergears]

Late Shift

Happy birthday to @echotovalley, long time friend and enabler of Stupid Shit. This particular kind of Stupid - not even remotely edited Stupid - was based on an idea of hers that I decided to run with, so I hope I did it justice! Thanks so much for all you’ve done for me over the years, and here’s to many more~ 

Working night audit had long been Maka’s favorite shift, had been ever since Azusa had suggested Maka work a couple overnight shifts during the week. Though she missed her coworkers and their lively personalities, Maka loved having the night to herself; just the quiet lobby playlist and occasional sleepy-eyed guest to keep her company. It was on these long nights that Maka would sit with either her school notes or latest novel and let the sounds of the lobby act sooth the frustrations of the week.

That wasn’t to say nothing ever went wrong during the night shift, but at least it didn’t all go wrong at once. And Azusa trusted Maka with the night shift because she could handle whatever their guests tried to throw at her. Even the musically-inclined ones.

The late shift had gotten significantly more exciting while the orchestra was in her hotel, and Maka had come in expecting a night of noise complaints and escorting musicians away from the bar (Her only consolation was that a certain white-haired violinist was apparently a fan of his beauty sleep and never bothered her late at night). But it seemed that an important performance by the orchestra earlier in the evening had tired the whole group out, and Maka’s night had been blissfully easy.

Maybe that was why she had let her guard down.

Maka had made herself comfortable, jacket draped over the back of her chair as she curled up in her chair with her latest novel, when she noticed the music. It wasn’t the standard soft-pop hits that made up their lobby playlist, which at this point, Maka had heard so many times she barely heard them at all anymore. No, it was the soft playing of a lonely piano, each note drifting lazily through the quiet lobby. That was odd, they usually only had a pianist in the bar on the weekends… and certainly not at 2:47 in the morning.

This had ‘orchestra tomfoolery’ written all over it.

Groaning, Maka tucked a room key into her book to save her spot before standing. She didn’t bother to grab her jacket as she walked out from behind the desk, making sure the door was locked before making her way to the restaurant and bar. With the way the lobby was set up, the bar cut off Maka’s view of the baby grand piano until she was basically on top of it, and she spent the walk preparing her best customer service smile and ‘It’s 2 AM and I am not afraid to kick you out’ voice. It was a little odd walking through the restaurant without Patti’s beaming smile or Blair’s curling grin to meet her, but Maka’s steps didn’t falter until after she turned the corner and saw the head of white hair behind the piano.

Oh, for the love of God-

Maka’s annoyance died a quick, quiet death when she realized it was not, in fact, Wes Evans trying her patience yet again and banging away on an instrument he did not play just to prove he could. Instead, it was the younger, quieter Evans, seemingly unaware of Maka as he played. Maka’s interactions with Soul had so far been limited to requests for toothbrushes - he kept loosing them - or profound and exhausted apologies for Everything About Wes. He had struck her as the more sensible of the two, and it was only that that kept her from storming up to the piano and demanding he leave.

(Or at least, that’s what she told herself. To admit otherwise would mean admitting that something about his peaceful expression had struck  a chord with something in her, and that was just not going to happen.)

Instead, Maka kept close to the darker parts of the empty restaurant, watching Soul curiously. He looked like he had just come from the concert hall, jacket laying next to him on the bench and tie hanging limply around his neck. He’d even begun to unbutton his shirt, the dim light catching on shiny scar tissue near the neckline of his shirt in a very distracting way. His posture was lazy and slouched, but his fingers still moved perfectly across the keys, wrists straight.

The song he played was unfamiliar to her, a slow, sleepy lullaby that meandered from key to key. Maka had never been very musically literate, only understanding a song if she had lyrics or choreography to help her, but somehow Soul’s playing managed to reach even her. She felt just as peaceful and relaxed as he looked, her body subconsciously leaning against the wall lazily as she wrapped her arms around herself loosely.

If she listened closely, she thought she could hear Soul humming to himself, the deep timbre of his hushed voice striking against the soft, raw part of her being that his music had exposed.

She forgot all about the front desk, about her novel and waiting homework. Her stress from school and all of her upcoming exams seemed to drain from her as she slumped in her spot, eyes closed. For a moment, nothing existed outside of the dark restaurant and the pianist playing in the only dim light in the room.

Maka opened her eyes just in time to see the exact moment when Soul realized he wasn’t alone, his wine-dark eyes meeting hers in a heartbeat of a moment before he started almost violently and his knees crashed into the piano while his fingers tripped over the keys awkwardly. Maka snorted into her palm, eyes scrunched with amusement as Soul shot her a painfully awkward smile and scrambled for his phone. The screen lit up his face so she had a perfect view as he realized exactly what time it was.

“Shit,” he hissed quietly.

“Mhm,” Maka replied, pressing her lips together to keep from grinning too widely.

“Shit,” he repeated, scrambling for his jacket as he tried to step away from the piano and only managed to trip over the bench, long legs caught awkwardly as he struggled not to fall or kick at the keys. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t think it was that late-” he said, keeping his voice low as if he feared speaking at a normal volume would wake the whole hotel. “I just- I couldn’t sleep so I was walking around and I-”

“Soul,” Maka interrupted, amusement clear in her voice. The sound of his name brought the flustered musician to a dead halt, looking at her with wide eyes. “It’s fine,” she reassured, “you weren’t bothering anyone. I’m the only person in the lobby right now, anyways.”

“I promise I don’t normally do this,” he repeated in the same way he usually said ‘I’m so sorry about my brother’.

“Play piano? I figured doing that regularly was a prerequisite for the whole ‘orchestra’ thing.”

Soul’s eyes went wide, then narrowed. “Oh, god, you’re as bad as he is.”

“I take deep offense to that,” Maka said loftily. She moved closer, Soul watching her warily the whole time. She bent down, scooping up the tie that had slipped from around his neck in his frantic scramble and holding it up to him. “Really though, you’re perfectly alright. If you had been Gopher, I might have had a problem, but since it’s you…” She shrugged.

“Since it’s me?” Soul murmured.

“You haven’t given me any trouble yet, so I figure I can let some late night practice slide just this once,” she said with a smile. “Also, I really liked your lullaby.”

Maka couldn’t be sure in the dim half-light, but she could swear Soul’s already dark skin flushed.

“Thanks,” he said softly, finally taking his tie from her outstretched hand.

“I didn’t recognize it, who’s the composer?” she asked curiously. Now she definitely knew Soul was blushing, his ears dark with embarrassment between messy strands of white hair.

“Uh, you probably wouldn’t recognize the name,” he muttered. “Real niche.”

A single dusty-brown eyebrow lifted. “Try me.”

Soul shifted awkwardly. “Um. Evans.”

Both eyebrows went up. “You-?” Soul nodded, looking anywhere but at Maka. Her shocked expression went soft. “Soul, that was beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he said again, looking about ten seconds from an embarrassed meltdown. Maka took pity on the pianist and gestured for him to follow her back out of the restaurant and into the softly-lit lobby.

“I work the night shift once a week,” she told him as they walked. “If you want to practice on the grand at night, just make sure it’s on a night I’m here, and let me know.”

“You’re… gonna let me practice in the lobby? Just like that?” Soul shook his head. “Actually, no, don’t answer that, I don’t want you to reconsider.” Maka couldn’t help her amused snort.

“Hey, you’re not the sibling trying to practice in the cabanas, I think I can be a little lenient based on good behavior.” That got a chuckle from Soul, and Maka’s ears seemed to drink the sound in. Geeze, his voice was deep. Maka tried not to find that really attractive.

“I’ll continue to be on my best, then,” he said, stopping in front of the elevators that led up to the rooms. Maka stopped a few steps away, hands clasped behind her back as she turned to look at him. “I guess apologizing again would be in poor taste?” he said with a shy, crooked grin.

“Play something bad, and then I’ll accept your apology,” she told him, waving. “Have a good night, Soul.”

“You too,” he said softly, “… Maka.”

(Any shivers that went up her spine at the sound of her name spoken in Soul’s deep, sleepy voice were immediately blamed on the late hour and the sleep she so obviously was lacking.)

Extra:

Wes was generally very easy-going; happy to go with the flow and let his life take him where it will. As long as it took him to bed by ten. A man needed his eight hours, after all.

So rooming with his insomniac brother had been… a trial, to put it kindly.

Luckily, his expensive soundproofing headphones and eye mask helped Wes keep his strict sleep schedule without much intervention. Unfortunately, they couldn’t stop the call of nature, which is how Wes found himself awake at nearly three in the morning, faced with an empty bed and a missing brother.

“Come on, man,” Wes groaned, heading to the desk and his charging phone. Insomnia or not, Soul could have at least left a note or something before wandering off. Easy-going he may be, he was a big brother first and foremost, and he worried about Soul being alone in a strange place at such a late hour.

Thankfully, before he could finish his text, the prodigal son returned, looking… rather alarmingly flushed, actually. Late night walks were not that strenuous, especially at Soul’s base speed of ‘meander’.

“Hello?” Wes said, setting his phone back down. Soul looked at him with wide eyes, making a strangled sound before his back hit the door and he slid to the ground, hands over his eyes. Wes was at his side in a heartbeat, resting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You okay, Soul?” he asked, looking him over for any sign of being jumped or attacked.

“Peachy,” Soul groaned into his hands, bony knees up to his chest.

“Wanna explain before I assume the worst?”

Soul sighed. “I may have found the baby grand in the restaurant while I was walking around.”

Wes grinned. Ah, yes, that made sense. He had wondered how long Soul would be able to resist the chance to play such a lovely instrument. “Got caught by the front desk?” he said sympathetically.

Soul nodded.

“Got chewed out, huh?”

Soul shook his head.

Wait, what?

“She liked my composition,” Soul nearly whined, curling up further away from a very confused Wes. Again, huh? Soul was a talented composer, whether he believed so or not, but praise of his music had never flustered him like this. In fact, Soul only got flustered like this around…

Soul must have sensed the wide, shit-eating grin that spread across Wes’s handsome features, because he didn’t even have his mouth open all the way to tease his brother about a certain blonde front desk agent before Soul was shoving his jacket in Wes’s face, hissing for him to shut the fuck up, Wes.

[sirkkasnow]

11 When Opportunity Knocks, Answer

Ao3 link

07/20/13 Saturday

Activity around the Shack kicked into overdrive through the next few days. Mabel scheduled her slumber party for Saturday evening, cackling in delight all the while as she took over the shared attic room for a thorough redecoration.

Dipper accepted his exile to the upstairs study with at least a little grace - he set up his laptop and and settled in for hours of journal work and game planning. The abortive DD&MD session was definitely back on for sometime early the following week.

Stan found himself pulled in too many directions at once. He squeezed in one more full day with Ford up at McGucket’s place working on the Fairlane, trying half in vain to dampen their more harebrained schemes. Apparently letting those two share the same space for any length of time resulted in exponential nerdery, or whatever the hell it meant when you got nerdery squared - he wasn’t sure but they made each other worse.

Soos sidled up to him early the following morning. “Hey, Mr. Pines, business is awesome! We’re in great shape to host the dance next week! Here’s the thing, though, I’m really close to having the new Dreaming Denizens darklight exhibit done.” He clasped hands together in anticipatory delight. “We could do a grand opening that night but I can’t find time between tours to work on the critters. Can you maybe help out for a day or so?”

So he’d had to leave the two lunatics unsupervised while he assembled a batch of fierce, hissing, taxidermied flying minks. There was no way to turn down Soos or an opportunity to upsell the dance tickets.

He cornered Ford for a lecture before Tate swung by to pick him up, something like that thing had better still be street legal when I get up there or so help me. Ford made a bunch of almost-certainly-hollow promises that they’d respect the sanctity of Clary’s mom’s precious vintage touring vehicle and that was that.

Stan put the whole thing out of his head for most of the day, focused on patching together the little monsters they’d need for the exhibit, and was washing up in the kitchen when he heard Clary’s level voice spike in surprise.

He stuck his head out into the hallway and found her by the side door, staring in disbelief at her phone. Ford’s voice was just audible on the speaker. " - sure you still want to keep the old paint color? This is a fine opportunity to change it if you'd like!"

She had a hand pressed to one side of her face, fingertips pushing in hard at the temple. "Ford, that was mint-condition factory-original paint when I got here. Arcadian Blue. What happened to the rest of it? You were just supposed to fix the hood!"

"Well, Fiddleford and I thought we'd rechrome everything while we had the opportunity, since we had the windshield out. Then we saw a chance to improve the safety features while we were at it - did you know cars of this vintage are practically death traps? I'll have to take it up with Stanley - " A distant, hollow boom sounded on the phone. Clary's visible eye squeezed tightly closed. "Whoops! I'll get back to you shortly!"

The line went dead.

Clary slumped against the wall for several seconds. “I have made a terrible mistake.”

He bit his lip and patted her shoulder warily. “I’ll, uh. I’ll give him a call an’ make sure they behave themselves. It won’t end up any more of a death trap than it was when y’got here.”

She laughed at that, the same ragged laugh he’d heard when the piston blew up in the first place, then looked up to him with a pinched smile. “You sure you mean that? I get the impression that those two can get a bit out of hand.”

Stan ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. About that. Maybe I shouldn’t’ve taken a day off, but we’re so close to havin’ the new display done...I’ll get up there an’ have it all under control before things get too weird.”

“Promise?”

“Trust me, sweetheart.”

She laughed at that, too, just a little cynical pfft, but her eyes softened in a way he very much liked and she hooked her index finger into his for a fleeting clasp. “I trust you,” Clary murmured. He damned near bent to kiss her right there before the racket of Dipper coming down the stairs set him rocking back two steps and clearing his throat.

Dipper paused before he made the left turn to the outside door, looking them over in scandalized confusion. Clary just smiled. “Good luck with the winged weasels, Stan. See you for dinner.”

By Saturday morning there was a menu tacked to the fridge. Clary’s tidy angular script promised things like ‘baking powder biscuits with honey butter’, ‘brown sugar bourbon baked beans’ and ‘deviled egg red potato salad’. She’d been running all over town with her little borrowed pickup to line up supplies.

At this point Stan was pretty sure anticipation might kill him if the stress of getting everything done on time and keeping the Fairlane project on track didn’t get him first.

He managed to swing by the manor to check on the station wagon - still blue, thank mercy, the hood now snapped back into its original shape and the cracked windshield replaced. Ford showed off the GPS they’d installed and McGucket chattered endlessly about the new frictionless coating they’d applied to the engine cylinders. Half of it went right over Stan’s head and at length he waved hands in frustration. “Just tell me it’s gonna run as well as it did before she got here!”

“Oh, much better!” they replied in tandem.

Stan stopped dead, squinted at their innocent faces in profound suspicion and groaned. “Y’know what. I don’t have time t’ double-check all this right now, you both know that, and so I’m leavin’ it to your tender care. I swear if anythin’ you two do harms a hair on her head, there’ll be hell t’pay. Got it?”

McGucket blinked in rheumy surprise. Ford had that faint thoughtful look Stan was getting really tired of, but he nodded in agreement. “You have my solemn word, nothing but some very minor improvements to safety features and performance. It’ll be more than safe enough to trust the kids in.”

“Fine. Fine. You’re both gonna sit down an’ explain everythin’ before she leaves, though.”

“Of course!” Ford’s most reassuring smile was in full force. Stan didn’t trust it for a second, but it would have to do for now.

There were a few more errands to run as the long afternoon wound down. Stan tacked up posters for ‘Mr. Mystery’s July Jamboree!’ around town as he went. By the time he finally pulled into Greasy’s he’d relaxed, humming an absent tune as he headed in to hang one last poster and pick up a coffee.

“Hey, Susan,” he called as he parked at the counter, swinging a look around the joint and its collection of regulars in for an early dinner. He was the center of attention, because of course he was and no one in this burg was any good at being subtle about it.

“Oh, Stan! It’s so nice to see you, sweetie,” she said in her usual tone of cheerful obliviousness. “How’s it been going this week? I hear the party’s going to be quite the thing!” Susan poured him a cup of familiar potent black sludge. “That tourist lady of yours has been through a couple of times. She’s really nice for an out-of-towner, good tipper and all. Was in the other day for breakfast, you know, wearing your jacket. Went pink as a petunia when I asked her about ya!” Her laugh was surprisingly sweet and she tugged her slack eyelid up, then down. “Wink!”

Stan busied himself with dumping too much sugar into his coffee. “Yeah, I mean, she’s all right I guess. Pretty good company for a hoity-toity type.”

“She came in yesterday asking about supplies.” Susan set her elbow on the counter and leaned in, conspiratorial. “Said she was gonna do a picnic at the Shack next Friday right before your big event.” Her voice dropped to a stage whisper. “Why, she asked if I could bake a couple cherry pies for her! What’re you up to, Stan?”

“Well. Y’know. An exclusive little gatherin’.” Stan settled himself, sat back and sipped slowly for effect. “Just friends an’ family.”

“I’m surprised she’s stuck around this long, nice city girl like that.” Blubs anchored the end of the counter, Durland seated one stool over and working his way through a ham-on-rye. “She has to have seen everything Gravity Falls has to offer by now. The Shack, the mall, the museum, the bottom of the lake….” Both of them chuckled over that one. “Maybe she should just hang up a shingle out there. We could use a lawyer.”

“Well, Stan could use a lawyer,” said Durland to a general rumble of laughter.

“You guys trashed her car, right?” came from one of the far corners. “That weird brother of yours made the brakes cut out or something so now she’s stuck here getting it fixed? We all know you’re too cheap to actually send it up to Portland.”

A prickle of annoyance nudged at the back of his eyeballs. “We offered and she decided she liked my face enough t’let us do the work. Should be done in a couple days. She’s just hangin’ around for the dance party.”

“Oh, I’m sure she likes ya, sugar.” Susan hid a giggle behind one hand.

Blubs tugged down his shades for a direct glance. “You did fish her out of the drink.”

Manly Dan scoffed from the far side of his mountain of meatloaf. “Stan Pines hasn’t managed to keep a lady around for more’n a couple days in all the years he’s been here. I’ll believe it when I see it!”

Stan slugged back a swallow of bitter, bitter coffee in an effort to not spout off, then did it anyway. “What, y’think we kidnapped her or somethin’? She’s here because she wants t’be!”

“Now calm down, all of ya.” Susan looked around the murmuring diner in reproach. “She’s been nothing but sweet to everyone in town. I’m sure it’s gonna be a real nice picnic.”

“Excuse me!” Mayor Cutebiker’s skinny arm went up from a few booths down. “Is that going to be included in the party ticket price? I need to know when I should show up!”

“What?” Stan’s shoulders twitched in surprise. “No, no, the party thing’s only for the dance, people.”

Dan bared teeth in one of his terrifying smiles. “I’d pay just to meet the woman willing to put up with Pines for three weeks.”

“What’s she serving, Stan?”

“Are you two going to dance?”

The whole place got the wrong idea in about three seconds. Stan could barely get a word in edgewise as conversation erupted, people pestering him about prices, about the new exhibit, about who’d be hosting the party that night.

Something snapped in the back of his brain.

“ALL RIGHT,” Stan roared, and the chattering crowd quieted in anticipation. “Listen up, because I’m only gonna say this once: Miz Merrick’s willin’ to make a very limited number of tickets for dinner available. Eighty-five a head. That’ll get you into the dance party and the Dreamin’ Denizens exhibit, too. This is a one-time engagement, folks, the lady’s a class act an’ I’ve seen the menu. It’s gonna be an event for the ages.”

He zeroed in on the nearest pretty face, hit her dead on with the full-headlights smile and the finger-guns, and was gratified to see her half-swoon against her companion. “Whaddaya say? First come, first serve!”

Fistfuls of money appeared as if by magic. Stan leaned over to whisper to Susan. “Sweetheart, lend me that ticket book, would’ja?” Starry-eyed, she handed over both the book and her pencil stub, and he started scribbling out tickets for Clary Merrick’s Chicken Picnic! on two-part carbonless guest checks as fast as he could.

Half an hour later he was driving back up towards the Shack. Almost eighteen hundred bucks was jammed into his back pocket along with a stack of IOUs. He was already puzzling out where to beg, borrow or steal enough chairs and tables to accommodate a crowd this large, and wondering just how much fried chicken Greasy’s could crank out on like four days’ notice.

He was also figuring out how the hell to survive through the end of the day, because Clary was going to kill him.

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The whole diner erupts in excited conversation, and everyone in here has got the wrong idea. They want to come to Clary’s picnic! And they’re willing to pay for the privilege!

Absolutely not!

Talk up the dance instead.

Sell tickets!