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darkestwolfx · 5 years ago

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Lost Kingdom - Re-Review #34

“Lesson over.”

And once again, Kayo is seemingly perfect... @tsarinatorment and @psychoseal is it time for some more rants? I think so. I’m sure Tin-Tin would have been quite capable at holding her own in TOS, and I also think Gordon would be a little better at physical combat. But hey, this is only like forty seconds of the episode, so I will move on.

“I wonder if Kayo’s finally met her match.”

“Guess not.”

Just to say, I was so voting for MAX - seriously, I have faith in this robot. Does no one remember him in ‘Legacy’? I’d have MAX for a guard dog any day.

“I’m detecting structures down there. They seem to be man made.”

“Want me to get Virgil?”

Why, Alan? So he can go in and do some heavy lifting? In fairness, there had to be some kind of reference to him because um... where is he? Anyone want to hazard a guess?

“The World Council Emergency conference just ended, and the archaeologists agree, it is the lost city of Atlantis.”

“Imagine that. A city reappearing after thousand and thousands of years.”

“If it’s been buried under water for that long... there won’t be much left that’s worth seeing.”

Oh my gosh, I love the story of Atlantis! Literally, other than animal conservation, Ancient/Classical History was one of my favourite topics.

Anyone else love this film? Apparently it’s one of the most loved Disney films, but also most forgotten. Bit of trivia for you as well - it was the only Disney film to have ten proposed DVD covers, all of which were released as promotional posters, but of course only one made it onto the DVD. However, the German and Chinese distributors for the DVD chose to use different posters for the DVD cover (both of which only saw distribution in these countries) whilst the rest of the world copied the British/American choice. Personally, I preferred every other poster to the one they used the DVD, but hey, they didn’t give me a vote.

And, okay, yes, I won’t admit to knowing everything, but I do know a lot about what other people might class as pointless.

Anyhow, back to Thunderbirds;

“I’ve got a feed coming in. You need to see this.”

“This is Francios Lemaire, bringing you lucky viewers, yet another chance to watch me make history! And here we are, on the bridge-”

“Control room.”

“Control room- of my luxury sub, the Jules Verne, from where I’ll be bringing you footage, of the very first human - that’s me - to explore the legendary, lost city of Atlantis!”

Oh look, here we go!

As soon as that music started I just who it was going to be.

Madeline is perfectly describing my feelings on Francois for this episode in this picture. I think - by the look of the faces we got from Tracy Island - that she describes what the Tracy boys feel as well.

“I order you to leave the area.”

Yeah, Lady Penelope, you tell him.

“Alright, alright, I was only trying to bring a bit of culture to the masses.”

Probably not the right way to do it.

“Your submarine’s in a live sea quake zone, Mr Lemaire, I strongly advise you to leave as fast as you can.”

“What is this? The International Rescue Babysitting Service!”

Um... considering your past record... yes?

Anyone remember the birthday party in the Mariana trench?

“I’m well aware of my location, thank you.”

Um, was he drinking whilst driving? Yeah, that’s a great thing to teach the masses.

“Francois, that’s re... uh.”

“Oh dear. Silly goose. Why didn’t you tell me I was in the wrong gear?”

Probably why you got the wrong gear, mate... Time to call the International Rescue Babysitting Service, d’you think, Lemaire?

So, anyhow, thanks to Lemaire’s stupidity - we have a rescue! And it’s one for Gordon - the water kind of gave that away - and oh look, Virgil (wordlessly) runs across the scene and gets ready to go. Really, where was he?

Still, I think I would have lost my patience with Lemaire by now - and damn ethics, I might have been tempted to ignore him.

“Hello, how much longer do I have to wait?”

“It’s only been half an hour.”

“I’m bored.”

“Patching you through to Thunderbird Two for an update.”

Ha-ha, way to pass Lemaire away from you John!

“We’re coming too!”

I can hardly believe it! It’s Brains, willingly going on a rescue, in person!

“I’ll tell you what’s crazy, Brains. Us chasing Lemaire through an active sea quake zone!”

Why is that man such an idiot? He really didn’t even need IR. Next time definitely just leave him, I vote.

“It’s breathable air.”

“It better be, look!”

And Lemaire’s idiotic streak increases...

So, here we are - apparently. There are many proposed locations for Atlantis (the first map below is Europe, the second is a wider view of the world), with many still in dispute. For a long time, it was believed that Atlantis being near Santorini made sense. In fairness, when I stayed in Crete, I had a lovely tour with some locals who tried to show me all the reasons why Atlantis had been near them. Actually, their argument (especially in their native language without the typical English mis-translations) is quite convincing. Crete does have massively similar architecture to that suggested in the Ancient Greek depictions of Altantis. It was argued that these could have been built at a much later stage, but the stone dates back far enough to suggest not. Whether or not Atlantis did sit near Crete, it is fair to say (especially as both were inhabited by the Greeks) that maybe the Atlantians did have a part of their Empire there.

Later, theories rose that Atlantis had previously filled a gap in the Straits of Gibraltar, and Island separating Spain and Africa, and potentially offering connections between continents. This was initially met with much annoyance by Greeks, who believed that Atlantis (an ancient Greek Empire) couldn’t have sat so far away from their own homelands. But, at the time, it was really only Greek and Italy who had big plays across Europe, and the Atlantians were rumoured to have waged war or conquered a considerable amount of the country in Greek’s name. The Straits also make a lot of sense scientifically and geographically. Although the Greeks believed (at the time and still now) Poseidon to be responsible for the sinking of Atlantis, we know that it had to have been a combination of earthquakes and/or tsunami’s which brought down this great empire, and the Straits of Gibraltar sit directly on a tectonic fault line which has led to a subduction zone (so sea quakes would be of great possibility - so I’m assuming TAG have gone with Gibraltar as a setting here) which has now been active (that we know of) from the 1700s - seems likely to be it was active before too.

You can read more about that here if it is of interest to you: https://www.livescience.com/19656-gibraltar-subduction-zone.html

Of course, many take the belief that Atlantis was a fictional story of Plato’s, whilst other’s take the belief that it was the end of the ‘last great ice age’ which caused the disappearance of Atlantis (due to flooding, sounding familiar?), but Plato’s descriptions, whether believed or not does suggest that Atlantis built connections between Africa and Europe (later working into the Pangea theories) and that the sea delves further than we know;

“In the Atlantic there was an island, larger than Libya and Asia put together, and was the way to other islands, and from these you might pass to the whole of the opposite continent which surrounded the true ocean; for this sea which is within the Straits of Heracles is only a harbour, and the surrounding land may be most truly called a boundless continent. Now in this island of Atlantis there was a great and wonderful empire which had rule over the whole island and several others, and over parts of the continent. She was pre-eminent in courage and military skill, and was the leader of the Hellenes. And when the rest fell off from her, being compelled to stand alone, after having undergone the very extremity of danger, she defeated and triumphed over the invaders, and preserved from slavery those who were not yet subjugated, and generously liberated all the rest of us who dwell within the pillars. But afterwards there occurred violent earthquakes and floods; and in a single day and night of misfortune all your warlike men in a body sank into the earth, and the island of Atlantis in like manner disappeared in the depths of the sea. For which reason the sea in those parts is impassable and impenetrable; and this was caused by the subsidence of the island. ”

Plato’s final passage on Atlantis, as it sits translated from direct Greek (thus ignore any tense errors - they are intended).

Plato’s impenetrable and impassable ocean theory would fit with the territory of high seismic activity too - which does suggest Gibraltar as a decent proposal, especially as Plato seems to know the Straits by another name, but the same land mass.

Okay, I’ve now ranted on about Ancient history enough, I think (although it is another reason why I love this episode), and I honestly do still have such a soft spot for the history of Atlantis. Maybe one day I’ll change careers and become a historian, but for now I’m happy with my mission of trying to limit extinction and global disasters. If anyone wants any more knowledge on Atlantis, just ask and I’ll put it in a separate post - this one is going to be too long otherwise, and is meant to be about something else.

You can definitely see where they took their inspiration from. I seriously adored all the behind the scenes footage for this episode. Go and look at it for yourself, the detail they put into it all makes it worth it.

“Look at those shapes. This was definitely built by Mer-people! Start rolling. I’ll do a piece to camera.”

“You grabbed me, we ran. I don’t have the camera with me. And we shouldn’t be in here!”

“Mr Lemaire, you’re putting yourself and your wife in danger!”

Yeah, I don’t think he really cares Gordon, she’s just his glamorous assistant and biographer after all - wife is actually quite far down the list.

“Would you order MAX to assist Mr Lemaire from the area?”

“That won’t be necessary!”

Scared of a robot, are we now, Lemaire?

See, just saying MAX could have totally taken Kayo. In my opinion.

“We’re trapped and Thunderbird Four is on the other side. Is it still in one piece?”

“I’m picking up full readings.”

Hell, it better be! You only just rebuilt it in the last episode! Goodness, imagine that all over again.

“Hello Gordon.”

“Lady Penelope!”

“Aren’t you lucky that I was around to come and dig you out of trouble.”

“I’m even happy to be rescued by a Lady in a pink submarine if it gets me away from Lemaire.”

So don’t go knocking it Gordon! She could easily turn around, you know. And just say you’re happy to see her, Gordon! Goodness these two could have been together long ago if they weren’t both so stubborn (and Gordon a little silly).

“He is one royal pain in the-”

Language! You’re talking to a Lady (and an audience group consisting of children), Gordon! I think we can all agree with the proposed end of that sentence though. Lemaire is.

“Do not fire a missile at my submarine!”

Yeah... point proven, again, I think.

“Final proof that Mer-people exist!”

Did anyone mention yet that meeting a mermaid is Gordon’s dream? Just because, he doesn’t seem too excited about that prospect here. Brains on the other hand, he can die a happy man now.

“We’re going to rebuild it in the assembly hanger, full scale!”

Nice reference to the selfie-stick in this episode, which was at the time, brand new, of course. I am still bitter that said word has made it into the Oxford Dictionary - seriously, they dropped the level of the game by letting that in.

“Parker loves playing pinball, don’t you Parker?”

“Not when hI’m the ball, M’Lady.”

We’re really learning a lot about Parker’s free time lately - pinball and complaining about the weather... hmm, interesting.

It was a nice way to end - showing everyone going out to the pool - good to see them making use of that thing!

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vintagegeekculture · 6 years ago

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You once said that Captain Marvel's Golden Age popularity tends to be overstated. Could you please elaborate?

I was specifically referring to the idea that “CaptainMarvel was the best selling superhero of the 1940s,” which I have seen a fewplaces, and is untrue. Though Captain Marvel was very famous and tremendouslypopular, the best selling superhero of the 1940s was exactly who you’d thinkit’d be: Superman.

A closer look at the era shows that our concept of the era,with Captain Marvel/Superman as this Gobots/Transformers or N’Sync/Backstreet Boys rivalry is untrue, because the reality is that there were several tremendously popular charactersthat were second-banana to Superman in the comics world at different points inthe 1940s: Sheena, Queen of the Jungle, Nedor’s Black Terror, and mostextraordinarily of all, the Blue Beetle, who is a pretty good candidate for my“dead fandoms” series in that at one point, he was in the top three ofsuperheroes, a radio phenomenon with a coast to coast fan club.

The narrative that Captain Marvel was the biggest hero apartfrom Superman hides how huge these other characters were, and it’s moreinteresting to talk about how, say, Black Terror was huge but vanished, or howthe best selling female adventure comics character of the 1940s wasn’t WonderWoman but Sheena, Queen of the Jungle.

(You’ll probably note the absence of a few characters thatwere only big in retrospect: Batman comes to mind. In the Golden Age, he was in the top 10 of superheroes, sure, but his popularity wasn’t that great until thehit TV show of the 1960s made him a semi-rival in popularity to Superman. Anycollector can attest to this: it is truly rare to find any Batman merchandisebefore 1966.

If this was Snopes or something, I’d call the “Captain Marvel was the top selling superhero” as partially true, because it is: the origin of this misconception is the totally true claimthat Captain Marvel’s comic was the top seller at certain points in thedecade, certainly, but (and this is the key part) from what we can tell, he wasnot consistently the top seller,which I think is an important distinction. Part of it was the astounding dropof interest in superheroes after the war, but part of it was also that CaptainMarvel just plain ran out of gas creatively at a certain point.

In other words, Captain Marvel had what we today call a“shark jump” point, Simpsons Season 9 style. And that point is, rightly orwrongly (mostly wrongly), associated with the introduction of Mr. Tawny theTalking Tiger in 1947, a Jar-Jar Binks-esque character of unclear purpose.

Let me be absolutely clear: Mr. Tawny the Talking Tiger wasnot the reason later Captain Marvel comics lacked the pizzazz and charm of theearlier ones, just like Jar Jar Binks is notthe reason a lot of people didn’t connect to the Star Wars prequel movies.The issues were a little more fundamental. But like Jar Jar Binks, Mr. Tawny isidentified as the point at which dissatisfaction crystalizes.

Captain Marvel until 1946, might just be some of my favorite comics ever. The Monster Society of Evil was easily one of the creative highpoints of the Golden Age, the first time 23 or more issues in a single comicwas dedicated to a sweeping story, the first time all villains of a hero cametogether. It was easily one of the most ambitious and memorable stories of the Golden Age. It’s had a lot of trouble getting reprinted in modern times, due to racially insensitive, caricature-esque depictions of Asians and blacks. The story nonetheless should be reprinted, with such depictions relevant for their historical importance.

For those who are unaware, in a time before serial storytelling, close to 2 years of Captain Marvel were dedicated to a single over-arching story. All of Captain Marvel’s enemies, from Oggar and Black Adam to the Crocodile Men, the robot Mr. Atom, Goatman, and Captain Nazi were unified by a mysterious cackling voice on a speakerbox, into the Monster Society of Wvil, by a creature called Mr. Mind, who’s identity was totally unknown. At the end, after two years of battle, Captain Marvel finally unmasked the mysterious voice on the speaker box - only to reveal the sinister Hitlerian genius that threatened the world was actually just a tiny worm.

But in a few years, perhaps because the comic was done by a single creative team, as inevitably happens, they started to run out of ideas. This makes sense to me – if “anything can happen,” nothing is eventful. One exerciseI do with stories and settings is to identify three things that can’t happen – if they can’t identify three things that won’t happen in thestory, their setting doesn’t have a unique identity.

History has a way of eliminating our sense of the passage oftime completely. To someone born after the Golden Age of Comics and looking back,the introduction of Mr. Tawny, the Talking Tiger, happened at the same time asMonster Society of Evil and the other legendary Captain Marvel stories; unlessyou read them in the original order, or read them in reprints in the DC 80 PageGiants, they’re a big undifferentiated mass that came out simultaneously. ButMr. Tawny came several years later after the truly great Captain Marvel storieswere told, and did not participate in them. Reboots scrambled things up evenfurther, some of which have Mr. Tawny there from the beginning (like Ordway’sPower of Shazam! Mini where Tawny was Mary’s stuffed toy who came to life).

There are some people who defend the later Golden Age Captain Marvel in much the same way that there are people who defend Star Trek V: the Final Frontier. More power to them if they see something of value. Personally, I never hate anything when it comes to fiction, even the bad things you can learn things from (never, ever hate a movie…and never forget that disliking things is not a personality trait). The internet being the internet, however…well, I can’t help but wonder if a lot of modern Mr. Tawny fans like him because they want to fuck him.

Just like with Jar Jar, it’s better not to forget him – he’sthere, use him somehow. I rather liked how he was used in the Captain Marvel/Shazam movie that came out last April, not as a character, but as a Kubrick style visual motif that keeps showing up in Billy’s life to reflect his desire for a realhome, on his backpack and everywhere (notice that his costume has tigertoken cape claspers). I also liked the idea in Ordway’s Power of Shazam series that Mr.Tawky was a friend of Mary Marvel, not Billy, a friend who gives her emotionalsupport and who is a semi-father figure. And there was an absolutely wonderfulissue of Astro City clearly inspired by Mr. Tawky, where the Astro City version was kind of a sad-eyed drunk and failure chewed up and spat out by the venomousculture of showbusiness.

It was so funny to me that this year, they had two CaptainMarvel movies come out from competing studios within weeks of each other. That’s such an asshole move that I kind of admire it, and I seriously doubt the timing is a coincidence. I am100% sure that some ultra-competitive alpha dog studio executive said, “hey,can we have them come out the same weekend?” It reminds me of how Golan and Globus after they split, both simultaneously made movies about the Lambadadance craze, and released them the exact same weekend to spite each other, with one named “Lambada”and the other named “The Forbidden Dance.”

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littlemisssquiggles · 6 years ago

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How does rooster teeth get the message of criticisms... cause I just really want them to know I was thoroughly disappointed with Oscar’s character this volume... he was on the front of the poster for God’s sakes. Sorry I just needed to rant 😅😇 and hopefully they act on it in volume 7 and make him one of the focal characters next volume.

To be honest I’m not sure anon-chan. The closest thing Icould think of is that the RT CRWBY staffs probably watch all the critique contentfrom RWBY Youtubers on YouTube and browse through fancomments on Twitter and Reddit. I also heard that Miles and Kerry sometimes frequent the RWBY Official Reddit page and then there is the RWBY fan base on the RoosterTeeth website.

I’m not sure about much the CRWBY check out Tumblrthough. I know there is a RoosterTeeth Tumblr page but that hasn’t been updatedin a while, I believe. Regarding Oscar,well I’ve already voiced my piece on that several times over. I will say thisanon. Don’t think of V6 as being a let-down in terms of Oscar’s promiseddevelopment but rather the first legit chapter in his arc.

Despite this volume’s shortcomings, one positive Oscar-worthy thing that I liked about this season is that the CRWBY actually used Oscar a lotmore during V6. We didn’t learn moreabout him as a character or his past at all this season but at least we got tosee Oscarcontribute more to the team.

There wasn’t a single episode of V6 where Oscar didn’t have screen timeor at least one moment where he contributed to the plot in some shape or form. Bruh,that was a welcomed changed compared to his underutilization in V5 where hispresence was constantly interrupted by Ozpin; short of the infamous dojo scenewith Ruby.

While I am disappointed that Oscar is still prettymuch a blankcanvas as he was between V4 and V5with V6 providing nothing new to his character than what was already introducedabout him in previous seasons, nevertheless, I’m hopeful for the Atlas Arc.

I have a feeling that come V7 going more into the full arc trilogy, theCRWBY Writers will start to bring Oscar more to the forefront again.I know Atlas is supposed to focus on Weiss’ side of story. I have no doubtthat Weiss is going to be the frontrunner for the Atlas Arc, particularly V7which I believe will focus on her family affairs and the crimes of the SDC withthe Faunus Abuse.

However I also have a feeling that Atlas will beOscar’s time in the spotlight aswell. I do feel wemay learn more about Oscar going forward in Atlas. At least that’swhat I’m hoping for; fingers crossed. I understand your pain. As a Pinehead,I too have grown a bit weary of the Writers lack of fleshing Oscar out more.

It took them, what…five seasons for us to finally learn more about Ozpin and hispast—well kind of since Jinn’s story didn’t touch on the lifetimes Ozma spentas the Hermit,the King of Vale and lastly Headmaster of Beacon. I’d like to thinkthere was valid reason for omitting these three lives particularly because Ifeel the Hermitand the King of Vale especially helped shape Ozpin into the man hewas.

I feel like we’ll see more of Ozpin’s story andmemories for the Atlas Arc as well which in turn is wrapped up in Oscar’sstory. I’m hopeful for Oscar getting more focus in Atlas since he’s on his own.While Ozpin and Oscar are on good terms since Oz did return to help Oscarmomentarily, Oz is still gone.

Since Oz has locked himself deep inside Oscar’smind, I’m praying this is a sign that at some point Oscar is going to jump into his mind to findOzpin. I’ve always wanted to see a visual representation of Oscar’s mind—howit looks from within since he shares it with Ozpin.

And since it’s Oscar’s mind—this is a way for us asthe audience to live through Oscar’s memories and learn more about him and his pastfrom the cherished childhood memories within his mind. Since we will never goback to Oscar’s home on the farm, physically in the show, the best way now is throughhis memories.

I hope the Writers have something good and concreteplanned for Oscar’s arc down the line. I kind of lost faith in them a bit in V6 C9but…I’m giving them a chance again since they are the ones who made Oscar.

They are the ones who created Oscar and are writinghis story. So I want to believe they have something good planned for him thatthey are slowly taking their good ass time to build up to. That’s the mind-setI’m approaching this with. If the Ozpinheads had towait for their boy to get some development and depth, we Pineheads gotta be patienttoo. Our boy’s time iscoming. We just have to wait out the storm and look out for the bright rainbow onthe other side.

To close off my answer post, I’m going to concludewith a small squigglescript. It’s a small rewrite of theairship scene from the V6 finale from the point where Ruby Rose becamea Pinehead a la five minutes to make the others appreciateOscar.

As much as my Rosegardening Pinehead heart loved thatmoment to bits the first time I saw it…if the Writers really wanted to sell uson the group showing appreciation for Oscar, they shouldn’t have let Ruby pointit out.

I mean I love thatRuby was sweet enough to direct everyone’s attention to Oscar but…when I lookback on that scene, it feels kind of…cheap, for lack of a better word. In the sensethat, before that, everyone genuinely acknowledged Ruby’s greatness (becauseof course, she’s our protagonist who did some recklessly badass shit for thefinale) but needed Ruby to spell out Oscar’s appreciation like “LOOK! LOOK ATHIM! APPRECIATE THE GOOD FARM BOY FOR HE IS GOOD!”

Don’t get me wrong. I still adore that sceneespecially for Oscar’s reaction to Ruby’s over exaggerated attempt to make theothers appreciate him. I mean it works as the perfect relatable meme it is becausethat is literally the epitome of me as a Pinehead havingto explain to other fans why I love Oscar so much, why he’s my favourite RWBYCharacter and why he’s so good as a character in general. However, if the CRWBY’sintention was to make the others appreciate Oscar, it could have been done alittle better.

That being said, I took a crack at rewriting thisscene. Again, this is just my interpretation. This is also NOT me trying to harpon the CRWBY Writers. Just a little what if scene that I wanted to take a shot at depicting. So let’s go:

RWBY SquiggleScript #013: Oscar-worthy Appreciation

Picture it: What if … the airship scenefrom the V6 finale episode was extendedto highlight the whole team acknowledging Oscar and showering him with moreappreciation and love before he spills the beans about Ozpin.

Ruby: *awkwardly*… Hey stop it!

Ren: You petrified aLeviathan after diving down the barrel of a canon!

Ruby: *awkwardly*…Uhh…ha…don’t act like you all haven’t done crazy stuff before. I—Imean… *points atJaune* Jaune! Jaune jumped in front of a giant mechahand to save Nora!

Alleyes fall on Jaune now.

Weiss: *frankly* Thatis true.

Nora: That was pretty crazy.

Ruby: *smirking cockily* Ha!

Jaune: What! Hey! W–Well…thatwas only because…*pointsat Nora* Nora startedfiring missiles at Cordo like a mad woman!

Nora: Well that’s onlybecause Ren…*points in Ren’sdirection* jumped onto Cordo’s backto take out her shields!

Ren: *flatly* Yeah,I did do that. You got me. Well…Blake finallytook down her abusive ex.

Blake: Yeah with Yang’s help and only after she hit him with her motorcycle!

Yang: Rest in pieces my beautifulbike. But…didn’t you guys say that Weiss summoned agiant Wasp?

Weiss: *incredulously* To save your crazy sister who jumped on the face of a giant robot!

Ruby: Heeey!

Alleyes returned to Ruby again and she’s sulks. Qrow chuckles from the passengerseat.

Qrow: *amusedly*Back to you it seems kiddo.

Ruby: Oh don’t you start withme Mr. Disappeared for several hours and ends up passed out in front of Jaune’ssister’s house.

Qrow: Hey I thought we wereswapping crazy things we’ve done stories.

Ruby: That was crazy!

Maria: She’s right. You were amess.

Qrow: Well at least I’m notthe one who annoyed Cordovin by eating cashews and then flew the airshipstraight into her canon.

Mariaopened her mouth to retort but quickly shut it afterwards; resorting toshrugging instead with an amused smirk.

Maria: *admittedly* Well… you got me there!

Mariathen playfully punches Qrow’s arm, chuckling lightly. Her laughter is soonjoined in by everyone else on the ship. Through her giggles, Ruby spots Oscar,whose laughing face locks eyes with her. Her flashes her a small smile and Rubyreturns it with a sudden cheeky grin.

Ruby: Heyyy…aren’t weforgetting someone? *unsubtly nodding in Oscar’s direction*

Fortunately,the others had the same idea.

Jaune: You are right aboutthat.

Noweveryone’s attention was on Oscar and the former farm boy shrinks a bit as he noticedall eyes suddenly on him.

Oscar: *awkwardly*…Wh—Why is everyonelooking at me? *handsflaying* I don’t have any crazy stories?

Ruby: Nope but you do havesome good farmboy stories.

Nora: You forgave Jaune afterhe acted like a total butt which to me shows maturity.

Ren: Way more maturity thanJaune.

Jaune: Hey! Aren’t you supposedto be my friends? *coughs* But…um…they areright. You’ve done great for us, Oscar.

Oscar: *scratches the back of his head awkwardly* … I…didn’t really do much, really.

Ruby: *perkily* Sure you did!

Weiss: You stood up to Dudleyfrom the Argus and warned us about the tunnel.

Yang: You stood up to Ozpinand told us about Jinn.

Blake: We wouldn’t have beenable to make it out of Brunswick Farms alive if you hadn’t fixed the tire forus to get away.

Jaune: And Ruby wouldn’t haveknown to go for the canon if it wasn’t for your brilliant observation about themissile launcher. You got good eyes, kid.

Ruby: *smiling at Oscar* You’ve come a long way, farm boy.

Oscar: *cheeks turning red* Uh…thanks, I think?

Nora: *cooing* Aww are you blushing?

Oscar: *embarrassedly; trying to cover his flushedcheeks with the collar of his jacket*N—NoI’m not!

Yang: He is! *grinningmischievously; pointing a metal finger at Oscar’s reddened face*

Oscar: *defiantly*No I’m not! *looks up at Ruby* Ruby…help .

Ruby: Alright guys, quitteasing him. *clapshand smiling broadly* Besides you’reforgetting the best part.

Ruby: *animatedly* Oscar, made a successful crash landing! He’s a fourteen year oldfarmhand.

Ruby makes the same exaggerated gestures to draw more attention to Oscar as shedid in the episode.

Oscar: *groaning* I said help me.

Ruby: *smirking at Oscar with a small wink* Shut up and let us love you.

Jaune: That was…seriouslyimpressive

Blake: We’d have been strandedwithout you.

Oscar: I…thanks but…I’ve beenmeaning to tell you guys. I didn’t land the ship on my own.

Andthe rest of the scene plays out as it did the canon episode.

~LittleMissSquiggles (2019)

#squiggles answers: rwby #oscar pine #ruby rose #rwby theories #rwby v6 spoilers #rwby v7 theories #squiggles scripts: rwby #Anonymous

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phinnsyreads · 6 years ago

Audio

Interview Log 026-01

Interview with ████ █████, former principal at SCP-026.

Agent ██████: Thank you for your time, Mr. █████.

█████: Not at all. If there's one thing I have plenty of these days, it's time.

Agent ██████: So, let's get down to business. You were principal of [REDACTED] back in [REDACTED], is that correct?

█████: Yes, that's right.

Agent ██████: What can you tell us about that?

█████: Well, you've heard the stories, I'm sure. Folks say it was haunted. I don't know about that, but things did seem strange towards the end.

Agent ██████: Tell me about them.

█████: Let's see, there were the stairs, of course. You've heard about that, right? People would count fifteen coming up and sixteen coming back down. I'm sure there was a trick to it, like an optical illusion, but I never could figure it out. And we had a history book that turned up completely blank. [Pauses] I suppose these seem rather tame. But you know how it is. Little things add up. People tell stories.

Agent ██████: Tell me about the dreams.

█████: The dreams? Oh, yes. People were complaining about nightmares. Mostly students, but a few of the staff as well. It was always about school never ending. We joked about it at first, but more people talked about it. I didn't put much credence into it, but, well, when we found the blueprints didn't match up with the school, it seemed easier just to move to a new building. The schoolhouse was old, anyway, and we wanted a fresh start. And, just like that, things seemed to settle back to normal.

Agent ██████: I see. Is there anything else you'd like to add?

█████: Hmm. [Pauses] It's not really much, but maybe it will make a nice footnote in that book you're writing. I still sometimes have dreams about being in my office, back at the old schoolhouse. Sometimes I'm doing paperwork, sometimes I'm talking to someone, but it's always back behind the desk, just like old times. But gradually, I notice something's a bit off. The bell's ringing, but I don't hear anyone in the hallway. No students hurrying in or out of the classroom, no chatter, no footsteps, nothing but the bell. And it doesn't stop. The crazy thing is that I never notice it's a dream until then. I've been retired for ten years, but until I notice the bell, I think everything's normal. Crazy, isn't it?

Agent ██████: I think it's very interesting. Thank you very much. If you think of anything else, don't hesitate to give me a call.

█████: Any time.

Item #: SCP-026

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-026 is to remain securely locked and boarded up at all times when there is no research ongoing. Alarms are set to alert the Foundation in case of entry by civilians or other agencies.

Description: SCP-026 is a three (3) story public school building built in ████. It has two (2) wings connected to a central foyer. It was declared condemned in ████ after it was found the floor plan didn't match up to the building's blueprints (see Interview Log 026-01). It came to the Foundation's attention after several disappearances in the area were linked to visits to the abandoned building.

The building demonstrates spatial anomalies. Its internal space is much greater than the external surface of the building would allow. Hallways display variable length, while stairways have differing numbers of steps going up or down. The number of rooms off the hallways changes each time they are counted. Attempts to reach the far ends of the hallways have met with failure thus far. Entrance through the fire escapes located at the ends of the hallways leads to doors approximately midway down the length of the halls.

EDIT: See Note 026-A

There is considerable graffiti on the interior walls of the school. Most appears typical, including gang signs, names, and street art. However, the graffiti fades and reappears, changing location. Writing on chalkboards and bulletin boards changes in a similar fashion. Subjects typically found range from standard school subjects (mathematics, literature, biology), to more esoteric subjects, such as quantum entanglement, ████████, and eugenics. One researcher reported one board detailing information about SCP-████, but photographic evidence showed only a blank slate. The contents of notepads, books, and pieces of paper have been observed to disappear, only to reappear on surfaces within SCP-026. New writings have appeared, mostly drawn from graffiti or text-books. Note: caution should be exercised in bringing documents onto the grounds of SCP-026. The phrase "The children used to sing" has appeared multiple times in various places throughout the building, but there is currently no explanation for its significance.

A number of unconscious subjects have been found in the building, mostly of high school age, ranging from twelve to eighteen. They are dressed in accordance to the school's dress code, circa ████. Several have been identified as former students or faculty of the school who disappeared after the school shut down (in at least one case, more than ten years after the closure). It is currently unknown how they were transported back into SCP-026. (See Note 026-B)

All attempts to wake the subjects while inside the building have failed. On being removed from the grounds of SCP-026, the subjects wake abruptly. They experience a period of confusion, before dying from extremely rapid dehydration, followed by advanced decomposition. No useful intelligence has been recovered from the subjects to date.

The inability to wake subjects extends to those who fall asleep on the grounds of SCP-026, though the rapid dehydration only seems to affect those who have been found on the grounds of the school. See Incident Report 026-12.

Incident Report 026-12 During a routine security check of SCP-026, Agent Malek was found unconscious by his partner, Agent Jones, in the main foyer. Initial attempts at rousing Agent Malek were ineffective, so he was moved for transportation to Site ██. Upon leaving the grounds of SCP-026, he woke abruptly in a state of agitation. When questioned, he revealed that he had been dreaming of a classroom setting. This dream has been consistent throughout all subjects who have fallen asleep within the grounds of SCP-026.

Note 026-A: Robotic exploration and video feeds have shown that the apparent spatial anomalies are caused by changes in the perceptions of observers, rather than actual spatial phenomena. For this reason, SCP-026 does not require the expertise of Mobile Task Force Rho-8 "Roadside Picnickers" at this time.

UPDATE: Further exploration has shown that some spatial phenomena do occur. See the Exploration Logs for more details.

Exploration Log 026-4 Exploration conducted by Agent ███████

"All right, I'm walking into the lobby. Walls are mostly bare concrete, a little paint here and there. Graffiti everywhere. A few beer bottles, some other trash. Looks like just another abandoned building.

"Okay, I'm making my way up the stairs. More graffiti on the walls. Okay, I'm going into the hallway. The peeling paint is kind of creepy. Looks like some sort of sheet fungus. Reminds me of [REDACTED]. The doors are kind of weird. Some are really close, others are far. Really irregular spacing. Doesn't match up with the blueprint you showed me. Okay, here's a classroom. Pretty empty. Some old desks. Real old, like they had in the thirties. The chalkboard's got a few math problems on it. Looks like trig. Okay, I'm going to check out another room.

"Back in the hallway. Heading to the next room. Desks look more modern in this room. Made from particle board. More posters here. Look to be from the eighties, I'd say. I recognize some of them from when I was a kid. Looks like Latin on the chalkboard. Yes, I'm taking pictures.

"Okay, back in the hallway. Heading to the next room.

[Several minutes of silence]

"There's something really screwy with this place. I could swear the room was just a few feet away, but it feels like I've been walking for hours. Anyway, I'm here.

"We've got sleepers. Three of them, two girls and a boy. They look to be around fourteen, fifteen. They're all wearing the same uniform. Yeah, just like you showed me. Hang on a minute while I take some pictures. At least we can figure out who they are.

"The furniture's pretty old looking, what's left of it. Lot of broken chairs and desks. Nothing on the walls. Chalkboard's… The hell?

"You're not going to believe this, ████. It's got Agent █████████'s notes up there. In her handwriting, even. We're going to have to be really careful what we bring in here.

"Yeah, I've got pictures, don't worry. Okay, I'm going to check one more room, and then I'm out.

"Back in the hallway now. Heading for the next room.

"Another anomaly. I've been going the same direction this entire time, but I'm back at the stairs. Yeah, I'm just going to head down. I've had enough of this place for one day. I'll meet you at the door."

The developed photos revealed [REDACTED]

----

Exploration Log 026-12 Carried out remotely using a robotic drone via video feed. Exploring the first floor hallway.

The hallway appeared in poor condition, with graffiti on the walls. Comparison with previous videos shows the graffiti has changed. Many of the same signs were present, but in different positions. Some seemed new.

Doors were uniformly spaced on the wall. Some were intact, while others were cracked or missing entirely.

First room in the hallway was the girl's bathroom. More graffiti on the walls. Several broken mirrors. A toilet had been removed from the wall entirely and placed in the center of the room. There was a great deal of porcelain and glass on the floor.

The next room over was the boy's bathroom. This was skipped in favor of exploring the classrooms.

The first classroom had no furniture. The chalkboard was broken in two. On one side of the board, there was a set of lines reading "I will not pass notes during cla (sic)." The other side had fragments of a lesson on [REDACTED]. There was one poster on the wall, depicting Helen Keller.

The second classroom was well furnished, with the largest number of intact desks to date, mostly made from wood and steel in a style used in the 1950's. There were two sleepers found that had not been reported in previous sweeps of the building. The first was a male teenager in a student's desk. Comparison with File 026-04 revealed him to be ██████ ███, a former student of the school. He was reported missing ten years after the school closed down, at age twenty-eight. The other was a woman in her mid-thirties sitting behind the teacher's desk. Her identity is still unknown. The chalkboard had a timeline of World War 2, overlaid with an intricate piece of graffiti.

The third classroom had fifteen particle-board desks in various states of disrepair. A map on the back wall was consistent with the sociopolitical conditions of 1974. A bookshelf had collapsed, and spilled a set of encyclopedias onto the floor.

The robot was then guided to the end of the hallway and back to the entrance. There was no sign of spatial anomalies at this time.

----

Exploration Log 026-15 Exploration conducted by Agent █████, accompanied by a robotic drone.

"Okay, I'm in. Lobby looks like it always does. Probably some graffiti drift. Here comes the robot."

The lobby was compared to previous videos. Some differences in the graffiti were noted. Otherwise, no significant changes.

"I'm heading upstairs now. Goddamn, the robot's heavy. How much crap did you load on it? You could've warned me. Gonna rest a second on the second landing. Video coming in all right? Cool, cool."

First set of stairs was navigated without trouble. The second floor hallway appeared similar to the first floor hallway, though with less debris.

"I've caught my breath. Heading up to the third floor. Wish there was a guard rail… Next time, it might be easier to carry the robot and the gear separately, and load it in once it's up. The gear's pretty idiot proof. I think I could probably figure it out. Damn thing must weigh over a hundred pounds. There, on the third floor now. I count… twelve doors. Weird spacing. That last door's got to be at least a hundred yards down. This place is pretty messed up."

Rangefinder showed the hallway was approximately forty-five meters long. Five doors on each side, evenly spaced, with one more door at the end of the hall. Eleven total.

"I'm heading in. There's not as much graffiti up here. A bit of debris. I'm opening one of the doors. Janitor's closet, and, hey, we've got a janitor. He's sleeping standing up. That's new. Male, seems to be in his mid-fifties. Nametag says ‘███████.’ A couple old broomsticks, what's left of a mop… Looks like rats have been nesting in here. They've shredded one of his pantlegs, but looks like they didn't touch the sleeper himself. What? You want samples? Eh, sure. Wouldn't be the weirdest thing I've picked up for this job. Okay, I think that's it."

Comparison with File 026-4 revealed the sleeper to be ████ ████████, former janitor in SCP-026. Later analysis of the rat feces revealed [REDACTED]. Recommended future exploration teams wear biohazard gear.

"Here's a classroom. No, no sleepers. Couple of desks intact, the rest looks pretty bad. Looks like someone took a sledgehammer to the place. No, wait, I stand corrected. Baseball bat. It's leaning against the corner. There's about half a case of beer here, full cans. Looks like they left in a hurry. Hey, get the robot to face the board. There's something I want you to see. Looks like Latin to me. Could be significant. Get someone to translate it, it might be a clue to what's gone down here."

The Latin was found to be a series of sentences showing different conjugations of the verb vendo, to sell. All were found in ███████'s Latin Primer, a textbook formerly used by the school. The baseball bat was aluminum, and analysis of the fingerprints was inconclusive.

"Okay, next classroom. Desks look fairly modern. Eighties, I'd guess. Chalkboard's got a quote from Nicholas Nickleby on it. Yes, I'm sure. It says right there on the board. 'The sun does not shine upon this fair earth to meet frowning eyes, depend upon it.' Nicholas Nickleby, by Charles Dickens. There's an apple on the desk. Looks fresh. I'm tossing it into the drone. Okay, I'm looking out the window. Hey, are you guys still out there? Because I see kids in the schoolyard. I don't see the van, or any of you. Yeah, second classroom on the right. You see me? Weird."

The apple appeared fresh on the video feed. However, when removed from the samples bin, it was in an advanced state of decomposition. The drone's feed through the window showed the Foundation van on the ground, and the research team looking up at the window. No children were seen in the schoolyard.

"Okay, you want me to head down the hallway? All right. Let's see if I actually make it this time. Not holding out any hopes. Walking forward. It looks ten feet to the next door, which would actually put it in the last room, but who's counting?

"I'm still here. It's just farther than it looks. Feels like I've been walking at least a couple of hours. I'm almost there. I'm just going to take a breather. I—Okay, this is wrong. I've stopped moving, but now I'm going backwards. The hallway's moving past me. Shit, I just saw the door move past me. I'm moving forward again. That's better.

"Okay, I'm almost there. One last dash and I should make it. And I'm back with the robot. I knew it wasn't going to work. There's no way to get there, I'm telling you."

The video feed showed the next door was thirty feet away. The total elapsed time from one door to the next was five minutes, in which time Agent █████ meandered toward the end of the hallway. No anomalous activity was observed while he was standing still. When he neared the end of the hallway, Agent █████ turned around and quickly returned to the beginning of the hallway.

"Okay, I hear you. I've got my eyes closed. I'm walking forward. Left, got it. Going straight. Correcting left again. Correcting right now. Okay, this is going a lot faster. Okay, correcting right. Yes, right, I heard you. Goddamnit, I am going right! Okay, left. No it is not the same direction! Look, if you think it's that easy, just send the robot in."

The robot was able to reach the end of the hallway with no problems. Agent █████ attempted to follow, but was unable to keep a straight line to the end of the hallway.

"Just go ahead and send the bot in. I'm not going to try again until we have a better idea what's in there. Something's keeping me out of there. We should figure out what it is before anything else. Look, if you want to know that badly, go yourself or request some Class Ds. I'm not going in. Deal with it."

At this point the robot opened the door and crossed the threshold into another hallway, running perpendicular to the first, thirty meters in length. No doors were visible. A single window was observed but was situated too high for the view outside to be visible. The walls were free of graffiti. The left was a dead-end, while the right terminated in a left-hand turn. The robot turned right into the new hallway. After ten meters, the unit's GPS showed it to be outside the building, though the video feed still showed the hallway. It continued to the end of the hallway, and turned left. Agent █████ was just ahead, at the beginning of the original hallway. Turning the camera behind the robot showed only the stairwell, with no sign of the second hallway. The unit's GPS showed it by Agent █████'s position at this time.

"I see another classroom. I don't see the robot, though. I lost track after it went through the door. What do you mean it's outside? Did it go out through the window? Look, maybe the GPS is screwy. Calm down. What do you mean turn around? What the hell am I—Oh, fuck! Okay, that's enough. I'm calling it off for the day. We can come back after we get some Class Ds in here."

Note 026-B: Several class D personnel exposed to SCP-026 have disappeared from Foundation control, only to reappear inside the anomalous building. The subjects in question had previously complained of dreams identical to those experienced by Agent Malek.

UPDATE: See Interview Log 026-08.

Interview Log 026-08

Dr. █████: "Please have a seat."

Agent Walker: "Thank you."

Dr. █████: "Let's get down to business. I understand you're requesting a transfer out of fieldwork. Would you like to talk about that?"

Agent Walker: "I'd rather not."

Dr. █████: "It's your choice. However, I can't approve a transfer without reason."

Agent Walker: "Look, I…" The agent paused here. "You've seen my record. You know I worked on twenty-six, right?"

Dr. █████: "I've read the report."

Agent Walker: "I was there the first time we took one of the sleepers out. A lot of them were adults when they disappeared, but they're kids again when we find them. So, I see this sixteen-year-old boy just kind of shrivel away. I had nightmares that night."

Dr. █████: "You're supposed to report any unusual dreams after contacting a potentially mind-altering phenomenon."

Agent Walker: "It hadn't been declared a mindscrew yet. We just thought it was a weird space thing. We were just watching it until the Picnickers got there. And it was a shock, you know? We weren't expecting anything like that. Anyway, I got over it quick enough. I'd seen worse. I once had a guy melt while I was holding onto him."

Dr. █████: "I see. What happened next?"

Agent Walker: "Nothing, for a while. I went in a couple of times, but didn't see anything too weird. But… Look, I know I should have reported it. But one of my buddies had just been disappeared after getting touched by some weird scip, and I didn't want it to happen to me."

Dr. █████: "You've been affected by an SCP?"

Agent Walker: "I… Yeah. It was a week later. I was dozing in the back of the van, and I started dreaming."

Dr. █████: "Can you describe this dream?"

Agent Walker: "Just like the others. You've read the reports, right?"

Dr. █████: "Pretend that I haven't. For the record, Agent Walker."

Agent Walker: "All right. I'm in a classroom. It's just like one of the ones in 026, but new. Not falling apart. I knew the teacher's name. I knew who was sitting by me, even though I'd never seen most of them before. The bell started ringing, but no one moved. I raised my hand, but the teacher didn't notice. Finally, I tried to leave, but the door wouldn't open. Then I noticed something strange with my hand. It had color. Everything else was black and white. But I felt like I was the one who was… wrong? Out of place? That's when I woke up. The van was leaving. No one else noticed I'd been asleep."

Dr. █████: "And you didn't think to report this?"

Agent Walker: "Like I said, I was scared. And this was before they found Malek. I figured it was just another nightmare. Nothing weird. And after Malek had his dream, well, they didn't do anything with him, so I figured it wasn't a big deal."

Dr. █████: "He was put on observation. You should have been as well, for your own safety and for the safety of others."

Agent Walker: "You paper-pushers think it's all so easy, don't you? Sitting behind a desk all day, you don't know what it's like. Well, things aren't so clear out there. Not when you're the one hunting talking cats in a sewer, or waiting to see if you're the one who's not going to come back this time."

Agent Walker was visibly distressed. It was several minutes before she calmed down enough to continue the interview.

Agent Walker: "Anyway, it wasn't until later that we connected the dreams with the sleepers. Not until they found those Class Ds on the second floor. Still, I thought I might be okay. I wasn't actually inside of twenty-six when I dreamed. I wasn't sure until the dreams started."

Dr. █████: "You're having reoccurances?"

Agent Walker: "Yeah. They started six months ago. It's the same dream. But each time, it takes me a little longer to notice it isn't real. And when I look at my hands, they're a little more gray."

End interview 026-08

Note: Agent Walker has since been given a Class A Amnestic and returned to field work.

====

[The voice of Agent ███████ (Interview Log 026-01) was provided by @phantomancer.] [The voice of Mr. ██████ (Interview Log 026-01) was provided by Breck Wilhite.] [The voice of Agent ███████ (Exploration Log 026-4) was provided by Spera Crinis.] [The voice of Agent █████ (Exploration Log 026-15) was provided by @navox-the-weary.] [The voice of Dr. █████ (Interview Log 026-08) was provided by Brittany Carlton.] [The voice of Agent Walker was provided by @mezzoprime.]

#phinnsy #scp foundation #scp 026 #reading #voiceover #storytelling #sci-fi #horror #urban legend #podcast #fiction #school #foley

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3wisellamas · 6 years ago

Text

Graffiti Wiener

(Oops, my recent fanfic kick spilled over from AT to OK KO. tl;dr: Darrell starts vandalizing the plaza every night and the bodega kids find it entertaining as heck. It’s very long, set aside some time for it. Also, disclaimer, don’t do crimes kiddos, yadda yadda yadda.)

It was early shift at Gar’s Bodega. Rad opened the store that day, looked at the relatively stocked state of the shelves from the day prior, and floated to the break room for a post-wake nap. Enid arrived second, and seeing nobody to keep her accountable she swiped an issue of Alt EDM Monthly from the magazine rack to peruse as she lounged on her counter. As usual, KO excitedly burst through the door last, waving at his mom as she parked the car to start her own day. But, this early on this quiet a day, his enthusiasm only took him so far into his cleaning duties.

It was too early to be at work, the three silently agreed. Then, as if a direct challenge to their morning ennui, their boss Mr Gar angrily smashed through his office door.

“KO! Enid!” He turned towards the break room door in the back. “Radicles! Front and center!”

The three slowly marched forward, Rad in particular taking a few extra seconds to come into the store proper, yawning. It was too early to be taking orders, the three silently agreed.

Their lack of enthusiasm only raised Mr Gar’s volume. “You three shape up and come with me. I got work for you.” He stomped towards the back of the store, out the loading dock, with his employees in tow. The four exited the building there, passed the trucks and the junkyard, and turned into the alley, where the sight that awaited them definitely made the early morning shift less dull.

Taking up almost an entire wall of the plaza alleyway was a large graffiti mural, unusually detailed and elaborate for the spray paint it was created with. The cans of paint in question had been carelessly discarded all over the alley afterward, simply left behind in what seemed like a hurry.

“Disgusting, isn’t it,” Gar sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose behind his glasses. “Someone vandalized the plaza last night, and today I’ve got two jobs for you!”

KO wasn’t listening. He immediately rushed over towards the wall to get a better look. “It’s so pretty!!”

“Yeah, this is pretty sick,” Enid agreed. “They did this in only one night?”

Gar snapped his fingers to regain their attention. “I have two jobs for the three of you. First, you’re cleaning up this mess.” He kicked a stray can out from under his feet, and pointed to a large bucket of white paint, a tray, and two paint rollers he’d set up underneath the mural. “I want every trace of what happened here last night gone, understand?”

“Yes sir, Mr Gar!” The three saluted enthusiastically.

“Good.” He paused. “KO, I only had two paint rollers and they’re pretty short, so you clean up the trash.”

“I’m on it!” KO gave a big smile, bouncing on his heels at the thought of having his own special mission.

“Now, the second thing…” Mr Gar leaned forward over his employees, to gain a more intimidating presence. “I want you three to come back here tonight, and keep watch over the plaza. If the creep who did this comes back, you’re to stop them at all costs. Understood?”

Enid and Rad looked at each other nervously, before giving their boss a shaky thumbs-up.

“If this wall isn’t sparkling white when I come in tomorrow morning, I am going to be very. Very. Disappointed in you.” He leaned back into his normal posture, and even a little further to crack his back. “Welp, time’s a-wastin’, Bodegamen. Get to work!”

All three shouted “Yes sir!” after him as he departed back towards the loading dock, leaving them to their tasks.

KO excitedly hopped around gathering spray cans, while Rad and Enid set up the paint tray. Enid in particular looked up at the mural again, studying the various scenes it depicted: A giant orange dragon along the top, who seemed to be desperately chomping and grabbing at a bunch of glittering technoes in mid-flight. In the center, a nondescript man in a cowboy hat riding a yellow horse, shooting what looked like a revolver at the dragon, and missing all six shots. Off to one side, a cute cartoony mouse glowing a gross nuclear green, and with what looked like toxic waste dripping from its mouth. On the other side, the artist’s tag, reading “DB” in simple, red block letters.

She sadly contemplated what she would soon have to do to the piece.

“So...who do you think could’ve made this anyway?” KO asked as he ducked between his friends to grab a paint can.

Rad didn’t even hesitate. “It’s Darrell. No question.”

“Are you sure?” Enid gestured towards the parking lot with her thumb. “I know he’s a graffiti wiener, but usually all he does is tag our sign every now and then. I didn’t think he was able to do stuff like...this.”

“You know any other graffiti wieners with the initials ‘DB’?” he asked, pointing towards the tag. He coated his paint roller in the tray, and raised it to the mural. “Welp, guess we better get paintin’.”

“Hold up a second, Rad!” Enid put down her roller and took several steps back, motioning for him to move aside. She produced her phone from her pocket and took several pictures of the wall, occasionally stepping to the right or the left to get a better angle. “It’s kind of a waste to just cover it up like this, you know?”

“Dude, Enid, it was painted by a Boxbot.”

“Oh well? I still think it looks cool.” She took one final picture, and then swiped back through them. “I’ve been reading a bunch of articles in Alt EDM Monthly about this DJ that also posts a ton of graffiti tutorials on Social Media, so I guess I’ve been on a real street art kick. And this…” She cropped a picture of the mouse portion. “...is my new lock screen.”

“Heh, okay then,” Rad scoffed.

She put her phone away and grabbed the roller again. “Alright, now let’s get to work.”

I didn’t take long before the whole wall was covered in two coats of plain white, letting through no traces of the graffiti underneath. The alleyway was spotless, with KO even finishing with the paint cans early and then using the time to collect the rest of the place’s usual debris. It was at least an eventful start to a dull early morning shift, the three silently agreed.

The late shift, though, was another story. Mr Gar had let his employees leave early to make up for coming back so late, and they were refreshed and ready for a Boxbot fight.

They took up a lookout position in a part of the fenced junkyard overlooking the alley, hiding behind a large pile of trash and robot parts. Enid checked the time, quietly signalling to the other two to keep their eyes open, but three hours later even she was ready to call it a night. Not even a tiny dinosaur had passed through the alley at all.

KO looked up at his friends and yawned. “I think we should just go home. I told Mommy we’d be out past my bedtime, but not this late…”

“You wanna take a nap, go ahead kiddo. I’m about there too.” Rad shifted to a slightly more comfortable position, not an easy feat in a pile of scrap metal.

“Guys, don’t stick me with lookout.” Enid continued scrolling through her Social Media feed to keep awake, not even paying attention to her duties at all.

They heard a metallic thump, and Enid looked up from her phone. “Rad, was that you?” She shook him awake when she got no response.

“It sounded like it was coming from the parking lot!” KO whispered. The three peeked out from behind their pile to see a hooded figure sneaking into view around the front of the plaza. The intruder kept nervously looking around to make sure the alley was clear, before jogging back to the site of their previous mural. The bodega employees couldn’t be sure in the dark, but it looked like the figure sighed as they laid a bright green backpack on the pavement and pulled back their hood.

The exposed brain case and large, single eye in the center of their forehead as they whipped their head around to do one last sweep of the area were unmistakable.

“Yep, that’s a Darrell.” Rad pulled the other two back behind the pile. “Ready to smash ‘im?”

“...You know what? Hang on a sec.” Enid grabbed Rad’s shoulder and held him in place. “We’ve still got that white paint, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then…” Enid let him go to peek at Darrell, squinting to see better in the dark. “I say we just let him go. I kinda wanna see what he does.”

KO peeked around the other side of the trash pile. “But Enid,” he whispered, “What about Mr Gar? Darrell’s gonna mess up the wall again.”

“We’ll just repaint it once he’s done.”

“Oh…”

Darrell dug in his backpack for a few moments, before finally pulling out the aerosol can he was looking for. He popped the top off, just letting it clatter along the pavement, and shook the can vigorously before laying down the first marks of a new piece.

“Orange!” KO excitedly whispered to the others. “He’s using orange first!”

“Yeah. Looks like he’s got a flame theme with this one,” Enid and KO both quietly got comfortable to watch the show.

Rad rolled his eyes. “I guess I just don’t get it.” He didn’t exactly stop watching Darrell work, though, from over KO’s shoulder.

The robot finished the base coat on the flames, and set the can down at his feet. He dug in his bag again and pulled out a can of yellow, and then a can of red, using them to add variation to the flat orange. With the flame background detailed, he placed the red can with the others and stepped back to take in his work. Satisfied, he dug for yet another can, and started painting black vertical bars across the entire canvas.

“Aw, what’s he doing?” KO pouted. “He’s ruining it!”

Enid clapped her hand over her little friend’s mouth as his whispering got just a little too loud for comfort. “Let’s just see where he’s going with this.”

As he started focusing on a portion of the canvas, though, Darrell suddenly started to act uneasy. He whipped his head around again, scanning the alley for anyone watching his efforts. The bodega trio ducked back behind their garbage pile just quick enough to avoid being spotted. He stared towards the junkyard for more than a few seconds, before finally turning back towards the wall and continuing with the black paint.

“Phew…” Enid held KO on her lap as Rad leaned back into the trash. He didn’t do so as silently as he’d hoped, though, and a small piece of scrap metal above his head loosened and dropped, loudly skittering across the ground as all three looked on in horror.

In the alley, Darrell jumped at the noise, throwing his paint at a nearby trash can. Like a startled rabbit, he bolted towards the parking lot, not even bothering to check what had made the sound. As he turned the corner out of sight, the trio heard his rocket boots activate and fade into the distance in the direction of Boxmore.

Enid released a breath she’d been holding for what seemed like the entire night, relieved she could finally do so without watching her volume. She and KO left their post to examine the fresh mural their archenemy had left behind, while Rad leaned against a clean wall nearby.

Between the black bars, Darrell had been painting a pair of hands gripping two of them when he was interrupted, one of which appeared to be melting and dripping down into the flames below.

“Huh. He’s a tortured artist. I like it.” Enid pulled out her phone again to snap pictures, using the flash to illuminate the area.

Rad, however, started investigating a much more intriguing target. “Hey, guys, look what he left for us!” He picked up the paint-filled backpack and draped it over his shoulder. He had forgotten to actually close it, though, and as he whipped it around about a dozen paint cans labelled in various colors fell out and scattered down the alley, which KO helpfully ran after.

“You guys, quit bein’ so loud!” Enid couldn't help but laugh at her coworkers’ antics, though.

“You’re one to talk, E.” Rad set the bag down between his feet and opened it wide. “Toss me one, KO!”

He did so, though his aim was a bit off. Rad quickly grabbed the tossed can in midair using his telekinesis, guiding it home. “Good shot, buddy! Keep ‘em coming!”

While the boys repacked the backpack, Enid got to work preparing the rollers and paint tray. It took just about as long as it had done earlier to apply the two coats and hide all evidence that anyone had vandalized the plaza once again.

“Just one thing left to do I guess.” Enid motioned toward the backpack draped over Rad’s shoulder. “Let’s toss that thing back across the street.”

Rad resisted. “Actually, I got a better idea. I’ll hang onto it for now.” He put on the backpack a bit more properly, with both straps around his shoulders.

“What, you repainting your van with that stuff?”

“Naw, you’ll see.” He smirked. “Besides, maybe if Darrell doesn’t have this he won’t be able to come back tomorrow night.”

“I don’t think that’ll stop him.” Enid sighed. “We might want to keep an eye out for him tomorrow too. Meet me here at midnight?”

KO and Rad agreed. The latter checked his phone, and groaned.

“Speakin’ of my van, yeesh. It is way too late. I’ll drive us home.”

KO looked up at the moon, barely visible over the alley wall above them. “Yeah…I definitely missed my bedtime.”

Darrell did return the next night, as the trio expected. This time he carried a light blue backpack, with an ‘S’ and a few of what were either flowers or tiny sawblades embroidered along the top. He was much more careful to make sure he was unwatched, however, to the point of even walking up to the junkyard fence to check behind the piles of trash.

Luckily, the bodega employees had taken up a new lookout spot on the roof, just above the wall Darrell had taken to painting. They peered down at him periodically as he worked, using the sound of his spray can to judge when it was safe to do so.

From that angle, it was difficult to miss the large crack in Darrell’s brain case.

“Hey, we blew him up today, right?” Enid whispered. KO nodded; this was definitely a different body than the one they’d chucked into the junkyard piece by piece earlier in the day.

The robot started spraying again, so Enid leaned over the ledge, checking his progress. So far, he had finished what looked like a portrait of himself, simplified of course, and with a sad expression on his face. Darrell stepped back, though with his eye luckily focused forward, and she noticed he was mimicking the expression on his real face. Then he looked down at his feet, searching for one of the colors he’d used previously, as Enid ducked back to safety.

“He’s getting a little more literal today,” she commentated to a curious KO. He took the next turn to lean forward, with Rad tightly holding onto his hand just in case.

As KO was pulled back, he quietly reported the next developments. “He started drawing...something around his head.” He looked down. “I couldn’t tell what it was yet.”

Enid scrolled through her phone. “Rad, you’re up.”

The alien peeked down for a second, then quickly leaned back. “He’s got teal. I think he’s drawing my fist,” he whispered, making one to illustrate his statement.

“That’s...weird. Is he drawing us fighting him?”

“I dunno, KO.” Rad took another peek. Looks like he’s got yours and I think Enid’s fists too. And a bunch of others…

“Let me see.” Enid set down her phone and took her turn once Darrell was distracted again below. There were indeed a number of arms ending in fists aimed at the painted Darrell’s head -- she recognized Rad’s immediately, and KO’s with his armband, and one plain human one that had to be hers, but there were also a bright orange one, one with a red glove, a catlike yellow claw, a couple of purple ones, and a green one. And a large open space at the very top, which she could barely examine before she needed to duck away as Darrell glanced up towards it.

The three stayed far from the edge for a while, just listening as he sprayed that final arm, which seemed to take longer than all the others. Eventually, the sounds of the robot shaking cans and spraying paint gave way to some sniffling. Then, the sound that they had been waiting for, as Darrell rustled through his backpack again, and all three leaned over the ledge to see the final result.

In that top spot was a bright yellow chicken claw, not just aiming at the painted Darrell but actually smashing right through his brain case, with bits of the green glass and even little fleshy chunks painted around the wound. The robot’s eye had also been painted over with a large black X. They momentarily glanced down at Darrell, who had stopped searching his bag and was wiping away a few tears.

The three ducked back, still silent. Enid looked at the boys, with an expression of horror.

“Okay, he’s a really tortured artist.”

Rad nodded. “This got dark.”

They were interrupted by Darrell shaking another can, this time much more vigorously. Rad held out KO to watch as he began haphazardly painting what eventually turned into a crude depiction of Lord Boxman’s face, finishing with his bright red eye. Darrell stood there holding the can of red for a moment, sadly looking at the second piece...and then angrily crossed it out. And then again, and again -- he wildly swung the can around while spraying, as if to assault the image with the paint. Eventually he threw the can itself at the image, and, still frustrated, even started kicking at the wall with his boot until he had finally vented all of his rage.

He stepped back again, picked up the can of red, and quickly finished the piece by placing his tag in the corner, in red block letters: “DB”. He then unceremoniously kicked aside the cans he’d used, put on the backpack, and ran out of the alley, leaving the area empty for the bodega employees to descend.

Enid once again snapped plenty of pictures of the wall as KO and Rad picked up the scattered spray cans, though this time without a backpack to catch them in. As the teens worked at covering the graffiti, Rad spoke up.

“Do you think this actually happened to him today?”

“Well…” Enid compared the damage she had seen from above versus the damage in the painting. “Maybe a super angsty emo-teen version of what happened to him today. Guess things aren’t going so great at Boxmore right now.” She looked down, and stopped. “Wait, shoot…”

There were bright red footprints going down the alleyway a short distance, from the mural site to the sidewalk in front of the fitness dojo before they finally faded, likely from Darrell’s boots as he ran. She remembered KO’s report of the robot kicking at the red paint and facepalmed.

“Oh geez. So much for cleaning up all the evidence he was here…” She ran her finger over one of the tracks. “It’s already dry.”

“Hang on, I think I know how to fix this!” KO searched through the paint cans he’d collected and found the black one. He slowly shook it as he’d seen Darrell do, then, holding it with both hands, pressed down on the top to spray a large black blob of paint onto the asphalt, covering the footprint fully.

Enid giggled, and patted him on the back. “Vandalism is wrong, Brush Head. But, good idea.” She found him a lighter gray can for the sidewalk, and let KO cover the rest of Darrell’s tracks while she helped Rad finish on the wall.

Darrell’s subject matter wasn’t nearly as dark the next night, or the night after that. They noticed from the roof that the crack in his head had been repaired, and he smiled and even hummed off-key as he worked, covering the wall in some more abstract, experimental images, like a door being shut in someone’s face with a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign hanging on it, and a princess tiara being chewed on by a swarm of rats, and a few frogs jumping around in a puddle of oil.

He seemed to be using the latter two to practice his shading, and even worked it into his “DB” tag, trying a gradient effect on the letters the fourth night, then a failed chrome effect the fifth night that he angrily painted over in plain red, and finally another attempt at the chrome on the sixth night that was a clear success.

Of course, every night after he finished painting the wall, the trio painted over it once again, though not before Enid could take a photo. She flipped through them at work on the seventh day since Mr Gar had tasked them with keeping the wall vandalism-free, until Red Action stopped her on one.

“Dude, this one’s sick!”

“I know, right? He’s actually getting really good.”

“Man, it’ll really stink when you guys finally make him stop in the alley.”

Enid shook her head, trying to empty out the cobwebs and process what she had just heard. “When...we make him stop?”

“Dude, you’ve been stayin’ up a whole week watching ‘im, right? That can’t be good for ya.” Red pointed out the dark bags under Enid’s eyes, and the fact that she’d dozed off at least twice since Red entered the bodega.

Enid recounted the number of graffiti murals she’d photographed. There were seven, it had been an entire week.

No wonder she was so tired.

Enid yawned after being reminded of the fact, watching it spread throughout the store as KO and Rad both copied her.

“We seriously have been up every night for an entire week, huh.” She pressed at her forehead. “Yeah, we gotta stop this.”

“I mean, it’s still cool and all, but whatever.” Red scoffed. “Probably for the best you just sleep and let ‘im go. You gotta take care of yourself more.”

“What’s Mr Gar gonna think if we don’t cover it up every night, though?” Enid shuddered.

“Well, that’s why you gotta chase him away!” Red unconsciously formed her hand into an arm cannon. “Just blast ‘im a couple times, like you do when they bust over here during the day!”

Rad interrupted from aisle 2, “I can blast him tonight no problem! Right in his robo-butt!”

Enid just shook her head, smiling. “Rad, please think before you open your mouth for once…” She finished ringing up Red Action’s order, waving her off as she left. With the store now empty, Enid’s coworkers gathered around the counter.

“So, we’re really gonna stop Darrell tonight?” KO yawned again.

“Yeah, bud. There’s no way we can keep this up.”

The other two were quiet, leaning against the counter to stay up. Enid was so tired she didn’t even care they were touching her sacred space.

Suddenly Rad seemed to realize something. “Hey, Enid, can I...try something tonight, when we see him in the alley?”

“Sure dude, what did you have in mind?”

“Remember when I took his backpack with all that paint, and I said I had a plan I was working on?”

KO lit up. “Oh yeah! You were gonna repaint your van with that stuff!” He laughed as Rad playfully punched him in the shoulder.

“No, squirt. I was gonna do somethin’ cool for us, but it might work better to try it on him tonight. You know, instead of just smashing his face.” He looked uncharacteristically serious. “The thing is, though...I gotta go get some stuff ready after we stop him. So, can you and KO hold him there for a couple of minutes?”

Enid and KO looked at each other, and nodded.

“Well, it sounds like we’ve got a plan,” Enid announced. The three put out their fists, bumping them across the counter. “See you guys tonight.”

For their final night of watching Darrell, the trio again hid in the junkyard, trusting that their target had relaxed enough to not look behind the trash piles again. To their relief, he didn’t, and as he arrived Darrell simply set down his backpack and began rifling through it for the right color as usual.

“So, when he tries to run…” Enid pointed towards the alley exit, on the parking lot side. “Rad, you’ll catch him, then pass him off to us. We’ll keep him here until you’re ready to go.”

Rad gave a thumbs-up, and readied himself alongside KO. As Darrell finally selected his can and started shaking it, he loudly shouted, “Hey!”

Darrell turned around, his eye widening in shock at the sight of the alien jumping out from behind a trash pile and floating over the fence, the other two shrouded in a pink glow as he brought them along too. He shrieked and bolted towards the parking lot, just as Enid had predicted, tossing the easily-dodged paint can in Rad’s direction. Rad’s finger glowed as he quickly grabbed the robot’s legs with his telekinetic powers, then the rest of him, and yanked him back into the alley, where Enid and KO grabbed his arms and held him in place on the ground.

“You good?”

“Yeah, go for it!” Enid adjusted her grip as Darrell struggled, and Rad sprinted away towards the loading dock.

“Stop it, Darrell!” KO used a free hand to pat him on the head, to the robot’s confusion. “We aren’t gonna fight you this time, okay? Rad’s got a plan!”

“Oh, so what, you’re gonna turn me in or something?” Darrell made another attempt to get free, but no success.

“No, you jerk. We wanna talk.” Enid paused, then experimentally loosened her grip to show she meant it. “You cool with that, dude?”

Darrell squinted. “...Really? Why?”

“Hang on, lemme show you something.” She dug her phone out of her pocket. “We’ve been staking you out here every night this week, to see what you paint. And, I guess to cover it up too before Mr Gar sees. But, we think it’s really cool, okay!” She turned on the lock screen, showing the nuclear rat she still had on it. “See? I took pictures of all of them before we cleaned them up.”

Darrell looked up at the phone and, appropriately, made a tiny, scared squeak.

“You’re...You’re gonna tell my dad I’ve been coming here, aren’t you?” He stopped struggling, instead sitting up a bit and curling defensively into his cloak. “That’s your plan, isn’t it? Get me in trouble again, for sneaking out after curfew every night, with proof?”

“No, dude!” She released her grip entirely, now that the robot was pacified. “We’re saying we like your art! Right KO?”

“Yeah!” The boy giggled. “I really liked the cowboy fighting that dragon, and that one with a lot of fire, and the snakes! They were all really beautiful!”

Darrell paused, unsure how to even react. “...R...Really? You...thought they were...cool?” He blushed, turning away from his archenemies. “You guys thought...I was cool?”

“Eh, you’re still kind of a nerd. But yeah, your art really is cool, Darrell.” Enid unlocked her phone and flipped through the photos again as he watched. “You’re getting really good. Where did you even learn to tag like that?”

“Well, there’s this DJ on Social Media who posts a lot of tutorials. I was just following those…”

“Nice.” Enid flashed him a thumbs-up, but then landed on the painting of Darrell having his brain case punched in. The robot shifted uncomfortably at seeing it again, averting his eye.

“Is...there some bad blood going on between you and your dad right now, Darrell?”

He sunk into his cloak a little more, shrinking into the space between his captors. “I don’t have blood,” the robot said matter-of-factly. “But...I guess I was having a bad day. You really saw that, huh?”

“Yep. All of it.” Enid shrugged. “Sorry.” She noticed Rad poking his head around the corner, beckoning them towards the back of the plaza. “Hey, come on. Rad’s got something for ya.”

“We don't know what it is,” KO added as he led the others, “but we know it’s not Lord Boxman!”

Darrell gave a small smile, and willingly followed the kid around the corner, gasping when he saw…

“My backpack!” He dropped onto the ground and hugged it. “I was looking everywhere for this thing!”

“That’s not the surprise, dude. Look up.” Rad stood proudly in front of three large shipping pallets, the kind the bodega received every day, all painted with the same white paint they had been using on the wall. He had them leaned against the loading dock’s door, a ready canvas begging to be painted.

“Wait, these are...for me?” Darrell stood, taking several seconds to process the situation.

“Look, buddy, graffiti-ing the plaza is...kind of illegal, but you weren’t really hurting anyone with it. And this way you’re not actually painting anything on the plaza, and if Mr Gar doesn’t like it he can just toss ‘em and I’ll get you some new ones.” Rad pointed to the pile of used pallets by the door. “Seriously, we have so many…”

Darrell snapped out of his processing. “So, I can come here at night...and tag these? And you guys’ll let me?” The bodega employees nodded.

He hugged his backpack tighter, not even bothering to hide the excitement on his face. But then he thought for a moment, and set the bag down, pulling out a few random cans of paint.

“Hey, um...If you guys want…” He held one up towards KO. “You wanna tag with me? Just, like this once…”

KO happily took the paint. “We’d love to, Darrell!” He glanced at Enid and Rad, who just smiled and obliged, taking cans for themselves.

The four each picked a portion of the canvas and got to work, not stopping until they started butting in on their neighbors’ art, and with the entirety of the three pallets covered they stepped back to admire the finished piece. They could only laugh together at how much the art clashed, from Radicles’ rough depictions of muscled teal cats, to Darrell’s abstract gears and wires, to Enid’s ninja clan logos and a “DJ Fireball” tag, to KO’s very rough but lovingly-rendered painting of him and his friend Baby Teeth riding a unicorn to a hot dog stand (as he described it to his confused audience).

Enid pulled out her phone to photograph the mural as this time Darrell scooped up the used cans into his reclaimed backpack, but as she was trying to get a clear shot Rad edged into the frame, standing in front of his section while contorting his face into the silliest possible expression. KO almost immediately followed suit, ignoring Enid’s attempts to get the two to move. Then Darrell backed into the frame as well, throwing an amazingly corny finger gun pose in front of his section, and Enid couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Rad?”

“On it.” He used his power to hold the phone up and tap the selfie button as Enid took her place and ridiculous pose as well, and once everything was in place he snapped the picture.

“That was perfect!” Darrell cried out, cracking up once again as he saw the final result. He put on the backpack, then nervously tapped his fingers in front of him as he tried to think of what one was supposed to say to their mortal enemies after genuinely having fun together for over an hour.

“Th-Thanks for...all this. Really. I’ll...I’ll see you tomorrow when I attack the plaza, I guess. Bye!” He smiled and waved as he ran around to the parking lot again, using his rocket boots to cross the street.

The others stayed for a bit, still admiring the graffiti, but then KO broke out into laughter once again.

“What’s so funny, kid?” Rad giggled a little along with him.

“You guys...we just hung out and painted a picture and took a funny selfie with a Boxbot. Friend-style!”

The other two sat up in shock.

“We...we really did, huh Brush Head?” Enid joined in, laughing alongside KO and Rad.

“Oh man, I kinda wish we could tell Lord Boxman without Darrell getting in trouble. I just wanna see the look on his face!”

“Don’t worry Rad, I bet he’d just be like…” Enid made a face somewhere between ‘seething rage’ and ‘just ate the sourest candy in the world’, to the others’ amusement.

The two picked themselves up and piled into Rad’s van, ready to finally call it a night for good.

“KO, Rad, and Enid!!” The three immediately snapped to attention in front of Mr Gar, but then looked on in pure terror as their enraged boss held up a blue embroidered backpack full of spray paint.

“Anyone care to tell me what this was doing in the alleyway this morning?”

“Oh.”

“Uh…” Enid and Rad searched for a way to explain the night’s activities, but then KO spoke up.

“The graffiti wiener came back last night, sir. But we scared him before he could paint in the alley!” Technically, it wasn’t a lie.

Gar harrumphed before handing the bag to the child. “Well, good job I guess. Now go do something with this where I can’t see it.” He stomped back into his office, grumbling something about having to throw away a bunch of shipping pallets as well.

The employees breathed a sigh of relief, returning to their daily bodega tasks. As KO began to carry the heavy backpack into the break room, though, the Boxmore alarm blared.

“Cob, now? Really?” Enid pinched her septum and hopped over the counter. She led the charge to meet the two large boxes crashing into the parking lot, which seemed to be...yelling at each other?

Darrell and Shannon both broke out, focusing more on each other than the plaza.

“Look, I know you took it, so just tell me where it is!”

“I told you like three times Mushroom-Head, I don’t know where you left it!”

“You’re seriously still saying I lost my-!” She looked at KO, still holding the backpack, and pounced, ripping it out of the child’s hands. “My backpack! What the heck are you losers doing with it?!”

KO glanced over her shoulder at Darrell, now very anxious that he’d been caught in his lies, and winked. Darrell tried to wink back in return, but it ended up as more of a regular blink.

“We stole it! And filled it with trash!” KO claimed, as Shannon opened it to reveal the spray cans. She tossed the bag aside in her confusion, and whipped out a sawblade right into his face.

“How dare you, you little…”

Rad yawned as he lifted her away with his telekinesis, throwing her right into the path of one of Enid’s fireballs, which in turn redirected the robot less-than-gracefully into the pavement. With a final power punch from KO, Shannon was down for the count.

The three turned then to Darrell, who drew out his arm cannon but otherwise paused before his attack.

“Hey, guys, um...I’ve gotta fight you right now, but...is it cool if we hang out again tonight?” He shrugged. “It was really fun.”

“Honestly that sounds awesome, bro, but…” Rad motioned for Enid to continue as he dropkicked Shannon’s backpack over to Boxmore, for her to pick up once she rebooted.

Enid rubbed her eyes, still with dark circles under them. “We have a lot of sleep to catch up on, dude. Maybe next week?”

Darrell gave her a thumbs-up in response, then powered up his cannon and charged into battle.

#ok ko #ok ko let's be heroes #ok ko darrell #ok ko enid #ok ko rad #ok ko ko #this might be one of the longest fanfics i've ever written holy shit #but i wanted to try these guys' character voices out so it was worth the day and a half #also seriously when's my jet set radio parody with darrell #emwrites

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elenaleegold · 6 years ago

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Assignment #2

What is the best chatbot you’ve experienced? What made it good? The best chat bot I've experienced is the AI interactive narrative Façade. It's not perfectly done of course, but it's an incredible use of the chatbot form. I tend to gravitate away from the service-oriented chatbots because I'm not as interesting in exploring the one-sidedness of that type of relationship. Instead, I think Façade helps to establish the "bot"/"bots" as “autonomous”, by situating the player in their world, as opposed to the opposite. So often chatbots attempt to help users within the user’s world, but it's an interesting twist to see users being asked to do the opposite. Much of robotic work seems to be in service of humans, and I’m much more interested in the way that humans can occupy the space and world of robots.

Describe a use-case for a chatbot that you haven’t seen but you think would be effective. I'd love to see a chatbot with a fully fleshed out personality chat with its human players unprompted. I'm curious about what the implications for being contacted by a bot might be and how human responses might serve to change how it interacts. We've seen plenty of AI chatbots that have become corrupted in one way or another by humans (notably Tay), but I'm curious about what an "autonomous" bot that both starts as ends conversations on its own terms might look like. I think it would be an effective way, thought difficult, to give agency to robots in an environment where they tend to have none. The role-reversal might also serve to elicit a kind of carefulness humans don’t tend to have with robots.

In regards to the Intelligent Systems Approach reading, the main computational system I came away with was the usage of an experience manager, or an automated entity used to manage a narrative in the vision of a human author. An experience manager must have a way to properly communicate an author's sense of dramatic tension, pedagogical goals, and aesthetic considerations as mentioned in the text. By having a way to parse character decisions, the experience manager can then redirect players in a number of ways. The text mentions both intervention and accommodation. While intervention pushes users away from having full agency to exist how they please in the world, accommodation prioritizes full human engagement, and adapts to it. Given that this article also reference Façade and I mentioned it earlier, it's interesting to view that particular game through this lens. It manages to achieve the pretty incredible feat of both intervening, by kicking the player out or simply not responding, or accommodating and shifting the storyline as the player responds in a number of ways. By adjusting and preserving the storyline in these ways, the experience manager is ensuring that the author's vision is carried out as intended.

Project 1 Interactive Fiction Sketches

Orientation: In a small town in America, your character's backstory is not completely clear but she seems to have pure intentions, making herself incredibly available to the people she meets. They aren't quite taken by her because of her reputation as being"witchy". People don't totally trust her, but they are cordial with her nonetheless.

Crisis: Mrs. Minter, the sweet older woman in town starts to fall ill in an unusual way and others are concerned.

Escalation: Others are starting to fall ill and in a fit of desperation, people start to visit your character for treatment.

Discovery: Your character takes advantage of the situation. She feels wanted loved, and thought it comes through in a way that feels genuine to the reader, this feeling drives your character to (what you discover is) continue to poison the people of the town. She revels in the idea that only she can make them better.

Change: She becomes deluded with power, but guilt also starts to peek through once she brings several people close to death. The death of the people "under her spell" brings immense relief to her tortured desires and she kills them off, one by one, by one.

The set of images below defines my moodboard for my story. I’m interested in painting an image of a small town using “found photography” or what I hope to pick up in secondhand stores. I think that using older photographs will help with not only the ambiance, but the intimate nature of a small town and the interactions your character has with the people in the town.

A few of my precedents for this story are most stories that include an unreliable narrator:

- Phantom Thread - P.T. Anderson - The Grownup - Gillian Flynn - The Husband Stitch - Carmen Maria Machado

Below are a few sketched out scenes from my story. I’m hoping that each storylet or vignette can be accompanied by a photo that “represents” that theme. Every time that theme, character, etc is referenced the same sort of old photo will be shown. Each photo won’t necessarily describe the situation but rather serve as a representation for that topic. The first sketch depicts a house in the woods, perhaps the house of the first character to fall ill, Mrs. Minter. Secondly is a run-in with Mrs. Minter at the supermarket. Thirdly, the local newspaper boy with gossip about the going-ons about time. The fourth, a brew that your character concocts with various ingredients. The 5th, your characters house, and 6th, one of many beds that start to fill up with the sick townspeople.

#Assignment2 #NDS

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hahahafangirl · 7 years ago

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To My Muse (Solangelo!AU)

Hi everyone it seems like I’m on team Solangelo now. To My Muse

Pairing: Solangelo (Nico di Angelo/Will Solace)

Rating: K+

Summary: At this point, all Nico di Angelo wants to do is to finish the draft of his final book. Also at this point, all Will Solace wants to do is works through the summer to stay alive. Perhaps there are many things else that they also need, but they aren’t aware of them, yet. Okay, maybe they just need to do it step-by-step, and thus that first step is at The Flying Ship. To @fangirlingatthreeam, whose prompt inspire me greatly to start writing again (lol) ------------------------------------------------------ 1. Maybe it’s time to get out of your room.

Nico di Angelo was not amused. At all.

His mornin-- afternoon. Yes, afternoon, started at precisely 5:30pm by the immense sunlight pierced through his window; which, was properly shielded by his thick, charcoal-colored curtain, promptly designed and positioned so that this particular, specific, discrete, exact, distinct situation could be avoided. Impossible. Absurd. Insurmountable. Irreparable. Futile. Impervious. Out-of-question.

Gods, if only his bursted brain cascaded this much vocabulary in the last week, then this blasted situation would have been avoided.

Let's not get ahead of ourselves. The exact cause of Nico's sudden awakening from his beauty slumber, beside the fervently scorching Californian sun, was Jason Grace - his saving grace, most of the time, but currently, his greatest curse - enthusiastically threw out his arms and let the curtains flew over to two sides, deliberately letting the raging shines engulf the enchanting darkness of sleep in his one, single attempt to wake Nico up. Jason's answer, if he was ever be interrogated for his profound crime, would be "I ran out of shit to give." It doesn't matter that Nico had already slept for sixteen hours, gods, he haven't had a proper rest in the last seventy-two hours that lead to such state, but it was not the time to be awake yet. Time is an illusion, and the only clock Nico followed is his own heart.

And thus, Nico fought. Intensely, passionately, fiercely, for his liberty, his right to continue to fake his ineluctable death by simply closing his eyes for an immensely short period of time in a dark room.

"And what the fuck was that, Grace?!"

"The sun has risen, Nico, around twelve hours ago, and was about to finish his shift. I just want to make sure that you're not dead -- well, you have a book to finish afterall. By the way, Piper wants me to remind you that the next checkpoint is three weeks away from now."

"Well, yes, thank you for your tremendous, most genuine concern. I'm sure that Ms. McLean would not be pleased to find out that I died in your merciful care."

Oh, did Nico mentioned that he is a writer?

Yes, he is a writer. Yes, his series is a hit. And yes, Nico doesn't live with a roommate for sheer economical purposes, but for humanity's sanity over making sure that he is alive and shield the paparazzi's attempt to convince T*mblr and Tw*tter that Nico di Angelo, author of the successful "Dystopian 20.48" series, is indeed a vampire. Just,... no.

He spied, with his tiny crack of eye-openings due to the need to sleep, that his blond roommate just rolled his eyes. "I appreciate the... appreciation, Nico. But seriously, you need to stop this."

"Stop what? Sleeping? Working? Writing? Being an author? Breathing? Make yourself clear, Thunderboy."

"I swear to the gods, Nico, that thunder after my speech in eighth-grade was a coincidence-- and by 'stop this', I mean 'stop your dysfunctional sleeping schedule and fix it.'"

"How so, Grace? Didn't I just slept," Nico paused, turning his head slightly to look at the clock on his desk "through the evening?"

"I don't know, Nico, you are 23," Jason dramatically paused, massaging his temple "you ought to know how to take care of yourself by now."

"Don't bring ages in here, Mr. I'm-a-25-year-old-mother-hen-that-sleep-in-my-Superman-themed-bed."

"Nico, the point is, you can't just not working in a week and then just rushed yourself the next three days writing and not doing any, anything else." Jason flung his arms out, again, slightly forwarded his body and glance his blue eyes around the room, trying to make a point "I know you got writer block and sometime need to rush for deadlines, but Nico, take care of your health for once."

This is a speech that is too familiar to him, Nico silently thought, a variation of a multitude of scolding he received from this exact Jason Grace, started from seventh grade, when Nico started douse himself to the idea of writing books, to now, this very moment, and perhaps will continue for the rest of his ephemeral life. Nico knows he was being melodramatic, but whatever.

Still, he got what the older boy was trying to say, and kind of regretting his life choices. Surely he would not live, functionally, this long, without the saving grace that is the care of Jason. And even though Nico was pretty sure that this situation will happen again, at that moment, he almost promised to not project himself into this kind of working habit again. Jason seemed to pick up on it, too - Nico's penitent aura, that's it. He sighed, long and tired, like a mother just finished scolding her premature son for some misdemeanor he committed again and again despite her reasoning.

"Fine, just... get out of here, your room, the apartment, I mean. At least go to the new coffee shop right across the street and tell me how the drinks tasted like. I heard that they served pastries, too."

"Fine, Mom." Nico answered, sarcastically, and went to the bathroom door, right at the edge of his room that is connected to the one, single bathroom in the apartment. Bless the designer, for not making Nico to walk out of his room for his humanly need, or at for least giving him that illusion.

Afterward, Nico did just that. Walked to the coffee shop, laptop in his messenger bag -- at least he got outside and attempt to be productive, Jason cannot disapprove of that -- and calculate how much his conversational word-limit should be.

"Good afternoon, welcome to The Flying Ship, how can I help you today?"

Well, that was before how breathtaking he realized the barista was.

The first thing he registered through his eyes was the kid's blinding smile -- toothy, genuine, immersed in sunshine, charm and happiness -- then the curly mop of hay-colored hair hidden in his dark green cap. Hay-colored perhaps was not the best, nor the most accurate narration Nico ever made in his life. His hair was the color of hay, drenched in the lavish, divine golden hue of the sun -- just like how Nico captured the shade of the rice fields of that August he spent with his family, with the early afternoon fire dancing through the land, sneakily give kisses to his olived skin and the grains, along with the soothing warmth of Bianca's hand safely engulfed his palm. The safety and peace assured his yet to be tainted soul. His eyes, sky blue, Nico noted, were different. They sparkled through the fluorescent, blinding light of the shop, tranquil and limpid as the summer sky yet so passionate, as if the vast blue outside was actually a part of the orbs. They reminded Nico of no memory in particular, though sent him a feeling he longed to embrace - a specific kind of equanimity that even his words can't yet to described, a passion so distinct that no matter how much he tried to tune the color wheel again, the hue produced never, ever precisely transcribed that feeling.

The boy behind that counter was his blessing and curse at the same time, though this situation is different than Jason's case. Jason was with him long enough for his case to be practical, and the stranger in front of him only sent emotions and feelings. The boy was peace and passion, simultaneously. Yet, the brighter shade of his physique reminded Nico of calmness and the quieter shade reminded him of raging emotion.

Gods, had he already fallen for the boy that hard?

Nico realized, after finishing his dramatic depiction of the stranger, that he must looked like an idiot after standing still, eyes gorged on the sight of the worker right in broad daylight. He must flee now, Nico thought, about to chicken out another potential human interaction, before reminded himself of cakes and coffee.

It's not Jason's fault that the good coffee at home ran out, he reminded himself.

Robotically, Nico moved toward the counter, though leaving some space in between to signal his attempt to read the menu first before ordering. He hoped that the barista would not mention, or better yet, noticed, the awkward situation that was Nico di Angelo staring at his face several seconds ago. He settled for macchiato, and told the boy such:

"One expresso macchiato, please, with no sugar and a bit more cream."

"Yep, and may I please ask for your name?"

"Nico."

"Alright, 'Staring-doe-eyed-boy'"

"What?" Nico can felt his face becoming more of a tomato-hybrid, the summer heat become bit by bit tenser.

"Nothing, Nico-sir."

"Seriously, drop the 'sir', and what did you just call me again, before that?"

"Seriously, dude," the barista -- Will, his nametag said -- let out a small laugh "You can't just blatantly stare into anyone's face and expected them not to notice."

This time, Nico allowed his face to blush, full-force; no, more of that Nico can't stop the crimson to flood to his cheeks, red the shade of embarrassment and awkwardness.

"No problem, though," Will, the Golden Boy, had a wash of guilt over his freckled, tanned face "People gaze a lot once they stepped foot in here. It's not a typical shop, after all. Though I do appreciate you taking in my... visage, first of all things." Will smiled over the purposefully cringy French accent, the corner of his lips turned mischievous and playful "Is that all for you?"

Oh, yes, the order. He forgot "Can I get the blueberry mousse, too? And... one chocolate cake pop."

"No probs, Staring-Guy," the teasing smile was at it again "Your total would be $14.30."

"That's... quite nice, compare to most place these days." Nico noted, his eyebrows raised in an amusing surprise, and fished out the bills from his pocket

"Well, we tried our best." Will cheerily smiled, accepting the money and clicked a few more button on the cash register. His long, delicately shaped yet calloused and strong, carefully picked the change; then, with his unwavering smile, drop the coins to Nico's hand. "Your order should be finished by several minutes. Enjoy your time!"

Nico silently nod, though his facade cannot completely hide the steaming embarrassment left over from several minutes ago, nor the fact that Will's pure, blinding smile melted at least some frost in his lonely heart. They were probably just "customer service smile", Nico reminded himself, try to keep his heart from preaching to high to the sky, though the fact that he felt the need to control such feelings was enough to judge how... infatuated he was with the barista.

If Percy Jackson was here, he swore, that boy would have already made a "your type" joke, just for the sake of relieving the high school nostalgia.

With Will temporarily out of his sight (such unfortunate), Nico had his time to give The Flying Ship a complete, thorough look. The concept is not foreign, yet fairly new in this part of the world -- a book-themed coffee shop. The Flying Ship -- though at this point Nico would like to shorten it to 'the Ship', or 'the Boat' if he decided to be less nice -- the interior walls were painted by a faint, bright yellow, shining enough to pop-out the color of the shop, yet translucent and just light to ease the soul. Along the walls are flimsy notes drew by markers and ballpoint pen, as if the shop deliberately encourage clients to leave lovely words on their walls (though, some little shit will decided to sabotage the nice intention by carving some vulgarities, just like how we was in high school). Strangely enough, there were pure white clouds painted on the walls, as if the sky is truly in a pastel-yellow shade and the blue out there was just an illusion. Along the walls are bookcases -- at least ten of them, Nico estimated, each were brimful with covers and words. Half of those are teen and young adult novels, it seemed like, though there were a mysterious number of equally intriguing thick books, as if people are really about to read Les Miserables at a coffee shop. How did they got such tremendous amount of books, Nico doesn't know, yet soon after he spotted the poster near a bookcase: SELL YOUR OLD BOOKS AND RECEIVE COUPONS! written in bright neon sharpies and elaborately decorated, the arrow pointed to the register.

At that very moment, Will's beaming voice entered Nico's mind, not fake, overly sweet yet bear the candied taste of nectar (or what he imagined that taste would be). Will was calling his name, since apparently his order was completed. Nico was so lost in thought and his observation to judge how fast or slow the service was, but that's not really important. He quickly picked up the tray, tried to not make any awkward, unnecessary eye contact while also tried to balance said tray by his two hands; he was careful not to spill the coffee, and picked the elevated area of the shop. Said seating space looks quite cute and inviting, perhaps since it was foreign as well, and people tends to examine and taste the flavor of the exotics; especially if it was something as simple as a seating style, completely, reasonably within one's comfort zone. For all intents and purposes, they traveled and get thrilled in every small, strange and new aspect of life. That's being said, the table was very, very comfortable: the table is low, kotatsu-styled, in which one the only fluffy object between their butt and the floor is a cushion pad. It was adjacent to the glass wall, which was bestrewed here and there with cute, tiny doodles on the rainbow-colored rows of post-it notes. He could see the busy, hectic street outside yet completely removed from it; as if for once, one would enjoy only witnessing life through their safe glass boundary, completely invisible and out of touch with the frantic beat of life outside the glass. Two separate worlds; an audience beholding a manic yet melodious and graceful play. As if the intense heat from frictions outside was translated to warmth, filtered through the glass, and percolate into his heart; pure energy without the chaotic side effects. And that's why it seemed very, very comforting.

His choice of seating did not take into consideration that it was the place that enabled him to most conveniently seeing everything that Will does behind the counter. Not at all. If asked, it was because "I had a lot of stuff on my tray and don't want to risk it."

He also didn't bargained for the eloquently flowing river of words inside his head, nor the fact that his "writing" style has gotten quite sappy inside his brain. Not at all. If asked, he would answer that "Maybe Jason was right; getting out of my room was a good idea!"

He opened his laptop and began to write the next part of his story. He got an inspiration.

Two lovers, in an abyss of a dystopia; the make-up camping site, the quiet, atypical moment of freedom and a project of destruction. ----------------------------------

Hope y’all enjoy this mess lmao it had been a while since I stopped writing. Btw, the book that Nico is writing in this fic is currently parts of a series that I really, really wants to work on in the future, so I’m hoping that one day I could bring myself out to write it haha. If you reached this point, thank youuuu so much for reading this fic, and please support me so that I can be motivated to not dropping this fic off. <3 All criticisms are welcome, I would absolutely love it if y’all have any comment on anything about this fic.

#pjo #hoo #toa #solangelo #Nico di Angelo #will solace #nico x will #fanfiction #my writing #to my muse

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hereticaloracles · 7 years ago

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Asteroid Files: Tezcatlipoca

Helios on Tezcatlipoca– Heretics, this life is tough, and we often struggle to know where we belong and our place in the world. More often than not, this leads to some pretty dissatisfying realizations about our lives. So what do we do about it? Well, for that answer, lets look at this week’s asteroid profile!

The Astronomy– 1980 Tezcatlipoca is an eccentric, stony asteroid and near-Earth object of the Amor group, approximately 6 kilometers in diameter. Tezcatlipoca orbits the Sun in the inner main-belt at a distance of 1.1–2.3 AU once every 2 years and 3 months (816 days). Its orbit has an eccentricity of 0.36 and an inclination of 27° with respect to the ecliptic. This near-Earth object has an Earth minimum orbit intersection distance of 0.2455 AU (36,700,000 km), which corresponds to 95.6 lunar distances. The S-type asteroid is classified as an Sw-type by the ExploreNEOs project, and as an SU and Sl-type on the Tholen and SMASS taxonomic scheme, respectively

The Myth– Tezcatlipoca was a central deity in Aztec religion; One of the four sons of Ometeotl, he is associated with a wide range of concepts, including the night sky, the night winds, hurricanes, the north, the earth, obsidian, enmity, discord, rulership, divination, temptation, jaguars, sorcery, beauty, war, and strife. His name in the Nahuatl language is often translated as “Smoking Mirror” and alludes to his connection to obsidian, the material from which mirrors were made in Mesoamerica which were used for shamanic rituals and prophecy. There are few surviving representations of Tezcatlipoca into the present day. Due to the lack of surviving images, some have chosen to describe Tezcatlipoca as the ‘invisible god’. When depicted he was usually drawn with a black and a yellow stripe painted across his face. He is often shown with his right foot replaced with an obsidian mirror, bone, or a snake—an allusion to the creation myth in which he loses his foot battling with the Earth Monster. Sometimes the mirror was shown on his chest, and sometimes smoke would emanate from the mirror. Tezcatlipoca’s nagual, his animal counterpart, was the jaguar and his jaguar aspect was the deity Tepeyollotl (“Mountainheart”).

Tezcatlipoca was often described as a rival of another important god of the Aztecs, Quetzalcoatl. In one version of the Aztec creation account the myth of the Five Suns, the first creation, “The Sun of the Earth” was ruled by Tezcatlipoca but destroyed by Quetzalcoatl when he struck down Tezcatlipoca who then transformed into a jaguar. Quetzalcoatl became the ruler of the subsequent creation “Sun of Water”, and Tezcatlipoca destroyed the third creation “The Sun of Wind” by striking down Quetzalcoatl. In later myths, the four gods who created the world, Tezcatlipoca, Quetzalcoatl, Huitzilopochtli and Xipe Totec were referred to respectively as the Black, the White, the Blue and the Red Tezcatlipoca. The four Tezcatlipocas were the sons of Ometecuhtli and Omecihuatl, lady, and lord of the duality, and were the creators of all the other gods, as well as the world and all humanity.

The rivalry between Quetzalcoatl and Tezcatlipoca is also recounted in the legends of Tollan where Tezcatlipoca deceives Quetzalcoatl who was the ruler of the legendary city and forces him into exile- but it is interesting to note that Quetzalcoatl and Tezcatlipoca both collaborated in the creation of the different creations and that both of them were seen as instrumental in the creation of life. Specialists in Mesoamerican Studies, write that, “More than anything Tezcatlipoca appears to be the embodiment of change through conflict.” His cult was associated with royalty and was the subject of the most lengthy and reverent prayers in the rites of kingship, as well as being mentioned frequently in coronation speeches.

In one of the Aztec accounts of creation, Quetzalcoatl and Tezcatlipoca joined forces to create the world. Before their act, there was only the sea and the crocodilian earth monster called Cipactli.To attract her, Tezcatlipoca used his foot as bait, and Cipactli ate it. The two gods then captured her and distorted her to make the land from her body. After that, they created the people, and people had to offer sacrifices to comfort Cipactli for her sufferings. Because of this, Tezcatlipoca is depicted with a missing foot.

Another story of creation goes that Tezcatlipoca turned himself into the sun, but Quetzalcoatl was furious possibly because they were enemies, he is a night god or due to his missing foot, so he knocked Tezcatlipoca out of the sky with a stone club. Angered, Tezcatlipoca turned into a jaguar and destroyed the world. Quetzalcoatl replaced him and started the second age of the world and it became populated again. Tezcatlipoca overthrew Quetzalcoatl, forcing him to send a great wind that devastated the world, and the people who survived were turned into monkeys. Tlaloc, the god of rain, then became the sun. But he had his wife taken away by Tezcatlipoca. Angered in turn, he would not make it rain for several years until, in a fit of rage, he made it rain fire with the few people who survived the assault turning into the birds.Chalchihuitlicue the Water Goddess then became the sun. But she was crushed by Tezcatlipoca’s words who accused her of just pretending to be kind. She cried for many years and the world was destroyed by the resulting floods. Those people who survived the deluge were turned into fish.

As discussed above, Aztec folklore is rife with parallels, much of the time depicted in deities such as Tezcatlipoca. For Aztec nobility, this “patron deity” is fundamental in the social and natural phenomena justified by religion during this time. Extreme reverence and respect, characterized by ceremonial proceedings in which priests were “to pay homage” to Tezcatlipoca, or where “citizens waited expectantly” for ceremonial proceedings to start under the low hum of “shell trumpets,” were commonplace, especially for this deity. Utter respect from the highest position of Aztec nobility, the king, shown through the figurative and literal nakedness of his presence in front of Tezcatlipoca. The king would stand “naked, emphasizing his utter unworthiness,” speaking as nothing but a vessel for the god’s will. The new king would claim his spiritual nakedness symbolically through words and physical vulnerability, praising Tezcatlipoca with lines such as:

“O master, O our lord, O lord of the near, of the nigh, O night, O wind…Poor am I. In what manner shall I act for thy city? In what manner shall I act for the governed, for the vassals (macehualtin)? For I am blind, I am deaf, I am an imbecile, and in excrement, in filth hath my lifetime been… Perhaps thou mistaketh me for another; perhaps thou seekest another in my stead”.

For kings, lords, priests, and citizens alike, the cyclical nature they observed every day and every year was portrayed not through science or philosophical debate, but utter reverence and respect for the spiritual beings they believed were the cause of these events. It was gods like Tezcatlipoca that solidified this notion, representing both the silent wind, and thunderous war.

Why He Matters– Dear god, there was a ton of information on this one, and I absolutely love it. Tezcatlipoca is a fascinating figure in myth, and there is a lot to unpack here. Tezcatlipoca in the chart is a very Martian influence but mixed with a bit of Uranus. Tezcatlipoca comes across as rage, but a very specific kind- The rage that comes from depression. This also plays into the other aspect of this asteroid god- He is an outsider, one who wants to tear down the system and rebuild it in his own image. Tezcatlipoca wants to change the world- actually, in his view he wants to save it. You see, Tezcatlipoca is dissatisfied with the way the world is, and loathes his feeling of powerlessness. To him, the world is unjust and will not be just until he is sitting at the top of it. In this, he represents both the patriarchy and your place in it, wherever that may be.

In media, you can see plenty of examples of Tezcatlipoca, like Elliot Alderson in Mr. Robot. In the show, Elliot loathes his position in society, and directs his anger at a large multinational company, and ends up committing multiple acts of terrorism in the name of creating a better world. Now while I don’t encourage terrorism (per se) our world keeps getting more and more polarized, and we are seeing a reactive grassroots push from people who see their own personal power slipping away while their world changes drastically around them. This is on both ends of the political spectrum, and both are becoming more and more violent. Tezcatlipoca is representative of both Antifa and neo-nazis. Tezcatlipoca is literally the rage against the machine, and the machine is different to different people.

Additionally, Tezcatlipoca is potently shamanic and encourages us to dive deep into the recesses and pits of our very souls. Tezcatlipoca is a literal mirror that shines a dark light on the worst parts of our personalities and forces us to confront our most terrifying demons, but he also gives us the courage to face them and win over them once and for all.

To find out where he shows up in your chart, go to astro.com, put in your birth details and in the extended options, all the way at the bottom of the next page, there will be a menu of additional objects. Under that is a blank space where you can enter the number 1980, for Tezcatlipoca. Once you have it entered, generate the chart! Where does Tezcatlipoca affect your life? Let us know in the comments below!

Asteroid Files: Tezcatlipoca was originally published on Heretical Oracles

#1980 Tezcatlipoca #Tezcatlipoca asteroid #Tezcatlipoca natal chart #astrology #tarot #asteroid astrology #fuckstrology #bruja #brujeria

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faridabadschool · 4 years ago

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HGS Faridabad-Hermann Gmeiner School One Of The Five Best Schools In Faridabad

Education is what remains after one has forgotten what he has learnt in school. SOS children’s villages started the project of Hermann Gmeiner Schools to cater to the needs of SOS children’s with the first and one of the best in infra structure, fee and education in SOS ENCLAVE sector 29 Faridabad. The main focus of the school is character development, all round development and academic excellence. The aim is to create balanced personalities to meet the challenges of life. The school has successfully completed 35 years of excellence.

The school was inaugurated in the year 1990 by Mr. Helmut Kutin. The brain child of a German architect, with two magnificent buildings. the main building a masterpiece of architectural splendour with spacious, octagonal classrooms and modern amenities. The open air audi in front of the building, one of its kind, is used for school prayer and co-curricular activities.

School Assembly

The school takes pride in its morning assembly, each day begins with entire school community, teachers, students and other employees offer prayers, to develop oneness of all religions and patriotism in the students.

Over the years it has become a part and parcel of every individual where birthdays are celebrated; cards and wishes shared. Special assemblies to celebrate the festivals like Deepawali, Eid, Christmas with religious fervour. Morning assembly also includes theme based plays, nukkadnataks eg. BETI BACHAO, SWATTCH BHARAT, POLLUTION IN NCR, WATER CONSERVATION, SAFETY AND SECURITY and many more, giving an insight of the various social issues that need to be pondered and dealt immediately.

Dignitaries, Alumni, Young Achievers who have left a mark on society are invited to speak in the assembly to inspire our students to excel in the field they wish to choose.

Laboratories

The school has a spacious well-furnished and ventilated Laboratories for the departments of Chemistry, Physics, and Biology.

The school has added computer Lab (equipping students with necessary computing skills), Maths lab(where students experiment and explore ideas), technolibrary, a state of the art Gym (with qualified instructors) Robotics lab (students create robots of their own).

Primary Education

The objective of the primary education at the outset was to achieve three R’s LITERACY, NUMERACY, TECHNOCRACY. The curriculum was designed around Social ,Environment and Scientific Education also including Art and craft, Visual arts, Music and Drama .later on stress was also laid on Social, personal and Health Education. Recently PBL (PROJECT BASED LEARNING) has been introduced.

It provides an integrated approach to teaching and learning. Students learn and achieve far more and betterthan traditional methods. It includes all daily activities, transitions and routines which have a routine which have an impact on the child’s physical, social, emotional ,intellectual and language development. It fosters comparison categorising and pattern finding – building blocks of the scientific method. The educators tiptoe through the students - without trampling the curriculum standards.

Some Innovative Techniques Self-reflection in the classroom -

By self reflection students analyze their strength and weakness which is a way for educators to look back on their teaching strategies to discover how and why they were teaching in a certain way and how their students responded.

Initiative classroom learning with Meditation and Warmup activities -

Enables the students to initiate their learning motivated and energized.

Painting, Puppetry, Claymodelling. Rangoli, Dramatics, Classical Dance, Craft, Vocal and instrumental Music. School Band, Poetry Composition, Photography and interactive classrooms.

Sports And Competitions

The school has ample sports and games amneties like football, table tennis, badminton. The fields are of standard dimensions and Multi-purpose Hall with light and sound systems is one of the pride possessions of the school.

The School takes part in CBSE competitions, inter school (Delhi, NCR) and has won accolades for the same in the past and the same continues in present.

Inter Hermann Gmeiner School Competitions

Students are provided a platform to exhibit their literary skills, sportstalents, creativity and innovations to share their experiences and make new friends .These are held annually on a rotational basis in various HERMANN GMEINER SCHOOLS. These include :

Inter H.G.S. Literary Competition.

Inter H.G.S. Science and Art Exhibition.

Inter H.G.S. Sports competition.

Awards And Accolades

HGS FARIDABAD has been awarded with the Best Teaching Excellence Award by INTERNATIONAL SCHOOL AWARD held at Dubai, UAE on 23 December 2018.

SOS Hermann Gmeiner School, Faridabad is one of the top 5 best schools in Faridabad. was conferred with Indian School Award 2018 as well as National School Awards 2018 the most socially active school. It was a big achievement for the school as we were one of the few out of 650 schools who nominated at ISA and around 500 in NSA. The Awards gave us a mark that we are one of the best in the country.

Secondary And Senior Secondary: Some GlimpsesGender Sensitivity & Anti-Bullying:

The ant bullying sessions were carried out throughout the session for 30-40 minutes duration. These sessions were fun, energised and powerful. The facilitator utilised a fusion of styles including role-play, games, improvisation and discussion. Students also witnessed several films that depicted acts of bullying and discussed whether (and how) the characters addressed the problem. Students also learnt about the bystander actions that targets of bullying report. In a speak up activity, In some brainstorming sessions, students discussed impact of bullying on individual and school as a whole and learnt safe ways to help a student who had been mistreated. Apart from these activities, the teachers also teach children about empathy, anger management, and effective conflict resolution. There is significant improvement noted in student’s behaviour.

Social Impact Activity:

Hgsfaridabad is one of the best 5 top school in Faridabad.

has been actively involved in social service and has sought ways to enhance this involvement. Tilak Nagar, an underprivileged area of Faridabad, to run adult literacy, skill development and awareness program. Adult literacy program and women empowerment for 50 women where we ensure that maximum number of women are enrolled and equipped for all battles of life. The objective of the program was to provide them basic level of literacy like identification and writing of English and Hindi alphabets and words, Math counting and addition and subtraction, how to write their names and uplifting of women beneficiaries to become economically strong. To achieve this target, students from primary to senior classes took part in this program by preparing teaching aids and lesson plans and teaching the syllabus through various methods. Our school also took an initiative to spread awareness about health and hygiene for which the team did a small workshop on health and hygiene in which they were taught the importance of health and what is the meaning of personal hygiene and importance of cleanliness of the surrounding areas. We tried to make them understand the importance of public sanitation among Youth. We carried this awareness program with 50 children.

Furthermore, a new initiative was also launched to financially uplift Tilak Nagar beneficiaries, they had started their own SHG group called SIYA SPICES. Social impact team is supporting this group by teaching them marketing strategies; providing support in doing advertisement through social media. The team organized a sale-cum-awareness counter of their products in HGS Faridabad during PTM where they got overwhelming support and generated the income of Rs. 10000 by selling spices.

Expression Classes

To give students a skill based training, school initiated expression classes free of cost. Students from class III to XI take part in these classes according to their interest. These include classical dance training of kathak and Bharatanatyam, instrumental training of Guitar, Keyboard and table. Training of Yoga and taekwondo.

Hgsfaridabad School is one of the Top 5 best school in Faridabad.

#Top 5 best school in Faridabad #best 5 Top schools in Faridabad #Top 5 Schools in Faridabad #Schools in Faridabad

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ellawritesficssometimes · 7 years ago

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My Save Year: ch. 4

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12554533/1/My-Save-Year

Summary: Depressed and rejected by his family, Arthur longs for a new beginning during his first year of university. There he meets Alfred, an optimistic bright-eyed oaf with a sunny smile. An unlikely romance develops between them, one that was already doomed from the beginning. (USUK, multichapter)

Mid-October…

Prof. Braginski dismissed us from the lecture fifteen minutes earlier than usual. The new location of the lecture was desolate, much farther from the other buildings on campus. This was already the third switch up of classrooms; the class was nearly down to half its size. Most students dropped out because of the course’s inconsistency, choosing to take the online version instead.

Francis, Antonio, Lovino, Gilbert, and myself, on the other hand, stubbornly stuck it through with the original course. We were very much visual learners and had to see the material presented to us in order to truly engage with it.

Although, it was hard to listen to Prof. Braginski without feeling sorry for him. The man looked like he hadn’t caught a wink of sleep judging by the dark bags under his eyes. Everyone in the University stayed far away from him because of the paranormal rumours attached to his reputation.

Hell, we’d all experienced the random bangs and moans of ghosts haunting the classrooms he taught at. Although, only Francis and I could hear the latter. Still, it was hard for anyone to dispute that there was some sort of paranormal activity going on.

So far, this third location proved to be the quietest in terms of hauntings. The lights flickered, but that’s about it. We were located in a dingy basement of a church, using desks that were hardly big enough to place a laptop on. It was crowded and humid despite the cool fall weather outside.

Just as I was about to leave with Francis – we managed to tolerate each other now, and could even be considered just a tad bit more than acquaintances – Prof. Braginski asked me to stay back.

I complied and met the professor at the front podium.

Prof. Braginski gathered his papers before neatly placing them in his briefcase. “Ah, Mr. Kirkland, I’ve been meaning to speak to you for a while now,” he said apologetically, snow-white hair shining under the artificial fluorescent lights.

“I’m sure you’re aware that you’ve received the highest mark in the class for the first assignment, da?”

I nodded my head. My cheeks warmed. I was unsure of myself and quite frankly didn’t know how to react to praise. “Yes, sir, you sent me an email to inform me of this last week.”

Prof. Braginski straightened, readjusting his scarf in preparation for baring against the cold weather. “That long ago, huh?” he chuckled. “My apologies. If it’s any consolation, I have been quite busy lately with booking new classroom locations, as well as re-grading assignments. Many people in the class weren’t pleased with the results they received. Most of the time, these are the students who don’t attend any of my lectures.”

I nodded awkwardly, still unsure of what to say. The Russian was very intimidating up-close. He looked like he was capable of cracking a spoon with his thumb alone.

“Anyways, I just wanted to congratulate you,” Prof. Braginski continued. His violet eyes shined with kindness. “I know what’s its like to be an emerging writer. It’s tough, because you never truly know if you’re good enough. You’re always criticizing your writing, unable to see the talent laying right out before you like a shining beacon. Doubt is blinding like that.

“I try to tell students not to think that way when they get better. Just because you improve doesn’t mean that you were horrible before… I expect a lot of things from you, Mr. Kirkland. It was an immense pleasure reading your work. You just have such a way of getting down to the gritty details of how a character feels. It was almost paralyzing to read, and yet, I couldn’t unglue my eyes from the paper.”

“T-thank you, sir,” I stammered robotically. “This means a lot to me. Really, it does.”

“Anytime,” Prof. Braginski smiled. “All it takes is a bit of encouragement. We writers, we’re always so insecure about ourselves. Sometimes all it takes is a little push from someone who knows exactly what you’re going through.”

“I know what you mean,” I replied, wide-eyed. Briefly, my thoughts traced back to Alfred before focusing on Prof. Braginski’s slightly hooked nose. I was too shy to establish direct eye contact with him.

“So, have you started on the second prompt yet? I’m sure that you have. The deadline is fast approaching. What is it? Two weeks until it’s due?”

Our second prompt was to write a historical fiction piece. The time or genre didn’t matter so long as it was before 1960. We could depict anything we wanted to.

“Yes, sir,” I answered politely. “I’ve begun research in the library, and intend to continue it right now, actually. This was my last class of the day.”

“Oh, well, I won’t keep you for much longer then,” Prof. Braginski pursed his lips in approval. “Now, keep in mind this offer may not stand if I decide to leave next semester, but if I do decide to stay, I’m always looking for an assistant. This position would build you a lot of credit, and I’d be happy to invite you to a writer’s residency program afterwards. I see lots of potential in you, and I would hate for it to go unrecognized.”

“I…I don’t know what to say other than thank you,” I said, mouth gaped open like a bloody idiot. “I don’t know what I did to deserve–”

“Nyet! None of that,” Prof. Braginski interrupted, kindly. “You deserve every opportunity this world has to offer. I only offer this to students who I believe have a future in writing. Don’t question it, but rather accept your talent for what it is and hone in on it; tweak it; perfect it; and then, share it to the world, touch and reach the hearts of others, and maybe then, you’ll achieve the happiness you’ve long sought after.”

There was a knowing look in Prof. Braginski’s eyes as he clapped a hand over my shoulder. “When I was your age, I was stunted by a fear of rejection. It brought me many pains, and…” he paused. I could almost swear that tears were swimming in his old, wise gaze.

“…some ‘experiences’ I would rather not talk about. The point is, Mr. Kirkland, is to never let doubt plague you from achieving what you want. Don’t think, act. Now go, you have another marvelous one-shot to write for me. I very much look forward to reading it once it’s complete.”

Stunned, I stumbled forward. I had completely blanked out and forgotten what I had said to Prof. Braginski as I left the lecture room.

I was finally able to breathe again once I made it into the library.

The relief didn’t last long as I had to duck and creep past the study tables on the first floor. Matthew was holding his weekly Friday Homework club session, and since Francis was a stalker, he had long decided to attend them.

All right, to be fair, Gilbert first went to the meetings, and since Gilbert went, Antonio and Francis went too. Lovino was also forced to attend because of Antonio.

What was important was that Francis mainly came to these meetings because he wanted to check up on me. I avoided him because I didn’t want him to find out what I was doing here, other than working. I’d solve the case of the rooftop without his help, thank you very much.

It was hard enough coming up with excuses of why I couldn’t attend the meetings as all five of us walked over to the library together after class. Apparently, studying alone was beginning to lose its potency as an effective justification for not joining them.

Francis turned and eyed the bookcase I was using to hide/ walk behind. He was waiting for me to walk into the library, likely planning to use another guilt-trip tactic. Just because I tolerated him now didn’t mean that I wanted to spend every waking minute with him. Living together was more than enough.

Sapphire eyes narrowed before shifting their gaze to Matthew, who had cleared his throat several times to garner the Frenchman’s attention.

“Francis, focus on your work!” Matthew timidly scolded. He had about as much assertiveness as an endangered baby panda.

“Ah��oui,” Francis bashfully rubbed the back of his neck.

“Kesesese! Oh look, you made the little birdie angry,” Gilbert cackled.

“Gilbert, what did I say about you calling me that?” Matthew deadpanned.

“I’ll keep calling you as such until you finally agree to go out on a date with me,” Gilbert countered, a definite smirk on his face judging by the tone he used. “They don’t call me five meters for nothing…”

Lovino yawned and picked up his mobile. “Hi, yes, operator? I’d like to report a case of unnecessary sexual harassment.”

Antonio snickered. Lovino’s comment was unnecessary. Shy as he was, Matthew was more than capable of looking after himself.

“I’m starting to think that they call you five meters because of all the restraining orders people have filed against you,” Matthew huffed.

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Smirking, I left for the rickety metal staircase leading up to the third floor. I couldn’t use the elevator, since it was in plain sight of the study group. God forbid that I had more than one social interaction today.

I wanted to look at the records’ section again. I was contemplating doing a piece about someone who had lived here in the past. Obviously, I would adjust the storyline and names and keep it tasteful, but I think it would be interesting if I wrote about what it was like to have attended this university many years ago. The spirits here that I’ve met already only attested to how rich and dark the school’s history was.

But, before I got to that, I had a certain yank to greet. Alfred waited for me at 4PM on weekdays where we met and chatted on the library’s rooftop. On the weekends, we had also grown accustomed to studying at the ‘food’ table in the fiction section together. As you can probably guess, I had yet to come up with any leads about the food snatching.

Not yet anyway.

The moment I stepped foot onto the rooftop, Alfred exploded. He was even more jittery than usual. “Dude, where were you? You’re late! I…I was beginning to worry,” he trailed off, solemnly reseating himself as I sat next to him on a bench. He was perfectly comfortable with me sitting next to him now.

“Sorry, one of my professors asked me to stay back,” I apologized for reasons inexplicable. When Alfred pouted like that I immediately felt sorry regardless if his sadness was irrational or not.

“He wanted to congratulate me for doing well on my first assignment. You know, the one I sent in last month?” I explained.

Alfred angrily scribbled in his notebook. “Yeah, yeah, you told me,” he muttered. “Good for you.”

I rolled my eyes. “What’s wrong now?”

Alfred ignored me. His cheeks weren’t just pink from the cold.

“Alfred, don’t be a twat. Tell me.”

“I thought you got tired of me and weren’t going to come again!” Alfred blurted out. “Sorry! I know I’m being irrational!” he chuckled. “Anxiety man, it really likes to mess with your brain, huh?”

“You’re correct. You are being irrational. We’ve been friends for how long now? Six weeks? Seven? I’m not just going to abandon you, Alfred. I couldn’t stand it if I did. Loud and crude as you may be, I truly enjoy talking to you. Just like you keep encouraging me to believe in myself, I’ll do the same for you. I like being your friend.”

“Say that. Say it again.”

“Why?” I smirked.

“Please?”

“I like being your friend, Alfred,” I huffed, crossing both my arms and ankles. Great, how was I going to tell him that I had to leave to do research?

Alfred broke out into a grin. “Thanks, buddy. I really needed that.”

I shrugged. “Anytime. Honestly, you can be so weird sometimes.”

Alfred ignored me again and began jotting down more ideas in his notebook. I had to look away when his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth.

“So,” I let out a deep breath. Cold air clouded around my face. “How’s class going for you? Are you working on another assignment?”

“Nope, just brainstorming ideas for my War AU,” Alfred chirped. “I can do that literary bullshit essay late at night like I usually do. Class is good, boring, but good. You?”

I deadpanned. Classic Alfred. If something didn’t peak his interest, he would torture himself and leave an assignment until the very last minute. What infuriated me was that he got higher marks than students who had started weeks before him. He was naturally talented. If only he put more effort into his studies…

Alfred was bright, but not keen.

I faltered. I didn’t want to leave Alfred just yet. Watching him work and brainstorm was a guilty pleasure of mine. He wore his emotions on his face. My heart fluttered every time his eyebrows would furrow, lips pursed in thought, cerulean eyes sparking with determination. I’ll repeat myself again: he was beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, but I couldn’t have him.

“Hey,” I started. “I’m supposed to write a historical piece for my next one-shot. Would you… mind if I took a look at your ideas? I could really use the inspiration.”

Alfred’s head shot up, blond cowlick bouncing. His expression was more surprised than anything else, but he didn’t look opposed to it. “Sure, man. Suit yourself. Not that any of this is good.”

He handed the bounded notebook to me. I intended to cradle it gently, as it was very valuable to him, but ended up gasping as the notebook landed sharply on my lap – it was a lot heavier than I had expected.

“Jesus Roosevelt Christ!” I cussed. “How much does this thing weigh?”

Alfred blushed, placing a gloved fist over his mouth. “I don’t know…this is years of ideas and ink you’re looking at.”

“Clearly,” I said as I flipped through the notebook. Several extra notebooks and papers had been clipped into the binding, which explained the extra weight. Still, it was unimaginable how much this thing weighed. I could barely hold it up without feeling like my wrists were about to snap.

“Say something already!” Alfred spluttered, red up to his face, neck, and ears. “You’re killing me here!”

After some time had passed, I closed the notebook having briefly glanced over the plot and historical notes. I didn’t need to do this, I was merely fibbing around so that I didn’t have to leave Alfred right away.

I had told myself before that I wouldn’t stay with him for long. Half an hour later, and it still wasn’t enough. Spending time with Alfred was like a drug. You craved it, needed it. Instead of a high, he gave me praise and acceptance. To me, this was the only satisfaction I would ever need and couldn’t nearly get enough of.

“It’s so thorough,” I remarked in awe. “And here I thought I was a good researcher. I can’t imagine how much thought was put into this. And the characterization, my word! You really root for Allen to survive the war in the end. It’s just a pity that it seems like you’re intending to have his mental health be his final undoing. You’re not going to kill him off, are you?”

Alfred’s solemn expression indicated the opposite.

“That’s so cruel!” I complained.

“Yeah, well, life is unfair like that,” Alfred grumbled, leaning back to drape his arms over the bench. God, how I wanted him to wrap his arms around me.

I fidgeted with my hands, thinking about how I was going to break the news to Alfred. He treasured our time spent together just as much as I did, only for different reasons.

“Thank you for showing me something so personal,” I murmured softly. “That was very sweet of you.”

“Did it help?”

“Yeah,” I smiled. “I really think that it did. Which brings me to my next point. I’m afraid I can’t stay here any longer. I have some research to do for the piece, and now that my professor is expecting a lot more from me, it’s got to be absolutely perfect.”

I stood up and slung my backpack over my shoulder.

Alfred spluttered. “Wha–?! You’re leaving?! Already?!”

I gave Alfred a sad look. “Yes, that’s what I just said, didn’t I?”

“No!” Alfred fumed. He slammed his notebook into his satchel.

“What do you mean, no?!” I snapped, irritation setting in.

“You heard me, Artie,” Alfred growled. He curled his gloved hands into fists as he stood up to loom over me. “This is our daily meeting time, so wherever you go, I go.”

“Alfred,” I deadpanned, promptly ignoring the putrid nickname. “You can’t just follow me around. I have work to do.”

“Yes I can! Watch me!”

“You’re going to get bored,” I shook my head in disbelief. Meanwhile, my heartbeat sped up, hammering in my chest uncontrollably. He was going out of his way to spend time with me. Me!

“No, I won’t. Now stop talking, and get researching. I’ll eat and supervise.”

I scoffed when Alfred pulled out a PB & J sandwich from his jacket. He really fancied those from the school’s cafeteria.

“Fine,” I growled. “Just don’t be too loud. And that means chewing with your mouth closed!”

“Yep! Mhmmghgph.”

“Oh dear god,” I sighed, holding open the library’s door for him. “How can you switch from being sweet and endearing to insufferable in thirty seconds flat?”

Alfred swallowed heavily. “Beats me.”

“Don’t you have something better to do? How come you don’t socialize with your actual classmates?” I asked. I let go of the door and it swung shut with a satisfying click.

This was something I had always wondered. I only ever saw Alfred in the library, or very rarely in the cafeteria. I didn’t know what he did in his spare time, let alone which dorm building he was residing in. He was a mystery, but I never asked these things out of fear of breaching his privacy and very fragile personal bubble.

We walked together comfortably on the soft padded carpeting and approached the balcony railing that overlooked the entire library. I took a sharp right and Alfred followed.

“I do,” Alfred replied. “But you’re the one I hang out with outside of class. I like you the most. I’m getting better at initiating conversations, though! It must be because of the practice I have with you.”

Of all people, the yank had learned how to socialize better from me. How ironic.

Still, that comment made me blush furiously; I had to turn away. If he kept saying things like that…

“So!” Alfred whistled. “What type of reaching are ya doin’?”

“I’m looking up biographies or newspaper articles about people who used to attend the university. We’re supposed to write a story about the past. I figured I would write a historical fiction piece about one of the lores people on campus like to gossip about. I mean, seriously. If I hear one more suicide horror story, my ears are going to bleed!” I sighed.

Alfred inhaled sharply. “That’s uh, real weird, Artie. Where are you taking us anyway?”

“You mean where am I going?” I smugly corrected. “You’re the one following me, remember? And, the records section, of course. I have to base this piece on someone, even if I am going to change up a few things.”

“Oh,” Alfred squeaked.

I stopped abruptly, turning to shed Alfred with an annoyed glare. “Let me guess,” I started. “You’re afraid there’s going to be more ghosts in this section?”

“Well, yeah dude, that’s a fact! I know this library from head to toe! I…uh came here a lot earlier in the summer than you did! The records section is the worse because it’s about real people! I would know, I used to sit there before I moved to the rooftop!”

“Tsk! You’re such a baby.”

“Am not!” Alfred protested.

“Are…” I turned around and realized that Alfred was gone.

I nearly jumped three feet in the air when Matthew came walking around a nearby bookshelf. “I thought I heard you up here, Arthur. Francis was looking for you earlier. He wanted you to come down and join us, but the meeting’s over now… Eh, who were you talking to? I thought I heard another voice?”

“Oh just some ridiculous yank who’s a total baby and is scared of ghosts!” I spoke up just in case Alfred was nearby.

“How nice, you made a friend,” Matthew smiled. He looked eerily maternal. I stifled a sigh. “I’ll let you two fight it out then,” he smirked. There was a knowing expression on his face. “And Arthur?”

“Yes?”

“You should really start coming to the meetings. Your other friends in it would really like you to go.”

“Maybe,” I shrugged.

“Mhmmm. Bye now.”

“Like hell I will,” I finished when Matthew’s soft chuckles had faded away.

Without a certain loud-mouth to interrupt me, I began pawing through several records. I flipped through maybe five of them before jumping again at the sound of a pop can opening.

“What the hell are you doing?!” I hissed, angry because I had nearly dropped the record book I was holding.

Alfred guzzled down a can of Fanta. “What?” he whined, letting out a loud “AH!” as the carbonated bubbles scraped at his throat. “There was a vending machine nearby and I wanted something to wash the sandwich down.”

I pointed a sharp index finger at a bin around the corner. “Garbage, now. You know full well that I work at this library. You’re breaking one of the only rules here.”

“But Artieeee!”

“Don’t you ‘but Artie’ me! Now I’m going to count to ten, and if that’s not in the garbage by the time I’m done…”

“I’m not doin’ it.”

“1…”

“…”

“2…”

“…”

“3…”

“Fine! Whatever! Be a stick in the mud, see if I care.”

“Hmmph! That’s what I thought,” I conceitedly murmured to myself, and then smugly resumed my research.

Alfred had his revenge when he snuck up on me from behind and playfully jabbed my side with his thumb.

“Gotcha!”

“AH!” Since I was a very ticklish person, I jolted and accidently elbowed Alfred in the stomach.

“OOMPH!” Alfred turned and staggered backwards. He grabbed at my waist to prevent himself from falling. All he managed to do was bring me down with him.

Disorientated, it took me a solid thirty seconds before I was aware of my compromising position. I was straddling Alfred.

Horror quickly set in.

Much to my surprise, Alfred didn’t panic. Instead he laughed, squinting up at me as his glasses were left askew on the bridge of his nose. His cerulean eyes seemed bluer under the fluorescent lights; it was an indescribable shade.

So was how red my face was.

“Bahahaha! Your face!” Alfred reached out to pinch my cheeks. “It’s so red!”

Silence.

“Oh, go fuck yourself!” I scowled and rigidly crawled off him. I stood up and brushed off the dirt from my pants, attempting to maintain some dignity.

“Aw, Arthur come back!” Alfred protested. He scrambled to his feet. “It was just a joke, I’m sorry! I’m also sorry for messing up your research!”

I looked over my shoulder, lips pursed in a death glare. “Good night, Alfred. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I grudgingly admitted that last part. I could never stay mad at him for too long. The way that his hair stuck up unevenly from the fall almost made me laugh, almost.

“Night!” Alfred giggled. He was shaking his head as if I were the weird one.

Unfortunately, I had a much larger problem in my pants to hide and eventually get rid of.

…

Several hours later…

…

I furiously rubbed at my eyes, hoping to alleviate a late-night grogginess spell. Each day, I had a set number of course readings and work to do. If I didn’t finish what I had set out to accomplish, I wouldn’t be able to sleep. Perhaps, this was my OCD, but I absolutely despised being behind on my work. My anxiety simply wouldn’t be able to handle it.

I was stubborn, but at least this trait didn’t bring me unnecessary stress caused by procrastination. Yes, Francis, I’m talking about you, you overstuffed amphibian.

As of now, the Frenchman had gone to bed early, intending to get some beauty sleep. For once, he wasn’t out partying. Either way, he was a chronic procrastinator. Just watching him do his assignments at the last minute gave me high blood pressure, and I didn’t even like him!

“Come on,” I grumbled to myself, both squinting and widening my eyes. The pages were getting fuzzier and fuzzier.

It didn’t help that my level of focus was next to shit since the incident with Alfred in the library a few hours ago. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and when I did, I would cringe so hard stars danced before my eyes.

I leaned against the frame of my bed and straightened my posture. I had lost count how many times I’ve cracked my shoulders and spine. It was taking me over three hours just to get through thirty pages of material. Normally, something like this would take me an hour and a half at most.

A voice in my head begged for me to sleep, and my heavy-lidded eyes pleaded for this as well.

I hadn’t realized that my eyes had already closed until a large bang against my windowsill startled me back into focus. Again, with the irony here.

“I’m probably just imagining things,” I muttered. “Come on now, only ten more pages to go. I can do this.”

Not thirty seconds later, my window banged again.

Irritated, I swung my legs over the bed. The cold tiling pressing into the soles of my feet caused me to wince in discomfort. I padded over to the window anyway and narrowed my eyes.

“AH-! FUCK!” I gasped without a shred of elegance. A tall, hulking figure was perched on the tree outside my window. They were on the closet branch, waving at me with a massive hand. Were they going to throw a rock at me this time?

What if it was those delinquents from the bar area? Did they know where I lived now?

Panic crept up my throat. I could hardly breathe, and yet, I was frozen; motionless; terrified of what would happen next. Tears pricked at my eyes, but I willed them back.

“Artie!” The figure bellowed. Their voice was muffled by the glass panelling.

The clouds outside cleared. Under the moonlight, a gleam of spectacles and cerulean eyes reflected back at me.

I grabbed at my chest as if it would somehow stop my heart from beating as fast and unhealthily as it was now.

“Alfred!” I snapped. “What the hell are you doing here?! It’s one in the morning!”

Alfred motioned for me to open the window. “Can’t hear you, dude!” he mouthed, gloved hands cupped around his mouth. There was a devilish smirk on his face that didn’t sit right with me.

Because I was embarrassed, I couldn’t hope to stop myself from being rude. I wasn’t expecting company, not ever, but certainly not at this hour. I was wearing sweats and a hoodie; being presentable was far out of the question.

SLAM!

I opened the window harshly and scowled. “I said, what are you doing here?! It’s one in the morning, you imbecile!”

This was the first time I had seen Alfred outside of the library or cafeteria. I was being bombarded with too many surprises I wasn’t nearly prepared enough to deal with.

Alfred shrunk back. “I…ah…wanted to apologize for earlier. I didn’t mean to scare you off. I only meant to tease ya, and I guess it really backfired, huh?”

I blushed at the reminder. I couldn’t even bring myself to think about what I had done when I had gotten home earlier. Looking myself in the bathroom mirror in shame afterwards was more than enough.

“Apology accepted,” I scoffed. This whole encounter was just too ridiculous for me to process. “I’m sorry too. I get flustered easily. Although, what you’re doing right now isn’t helping. How did you even find out where I live?”

Alfred’s face brightened. “You told me you lived in the Gaul dorm, remember? This window was the only one with the lights on, and since you’re always studying, I figured this would be your room,” he explained. “You’re very predictable, Arthur. It doesn’t take a genius to figure you out.”

“Brilliant,” I remarked sarcastically. “You’re a true detective if I’ve ever seen one.”

“So,” Alfred shifted nervously. “You wanna come out and gaze at the stars with me?”

“Honestly,” I crossed my arms. “You make no bloody sense. First, you come to apologize to me when you could have done that tomorrow, and now you expect me to sit with you on a flimsy tree branch that likely won’t be able to hold up both of our weights?”

“I didn’t want to wait!” Alfred blurted out. “It was really bugging me. You just left so abruptly. I thought I hurt your feelings and then I felt really shitty about it and then I couldn’t sleep, so I came here because residence doesn’t let you in past 11 PM and now you’re being really mean and ah! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Crap! You must think I’m so weird… Also, this branch is a lot sturdier than it looks, man! I mean, it’s holding up my dead ass weight, ain’t it?!”

Silence.

Alfred rubbed at the back of his neck again and bit his lip. He was breathing heavily, too petrified to form a coherent sentence.

I caved almost immediately. Seeing Alfred be sad like this was too painful to watch.

“Fine,” I sighed. “But if I fall, I’m suing you. And are you really that surprised that I’m being mean to you? I thought you were trying to assault me! You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Oh god!” Alfred gasped, sheepish. “I didn’t think of that! Not that I think anything through, ahaha!” he laughed nervously. “I just thought it was a nice night to enjoy. You would see this for yourself if you came out here.”

“Well, I can’t do that if you’re not going to help me,” I countered. “Not everyone has the figure of an Olympic athlete like you do. I’m not exactly made for climbing.”

Alfred smirked and crawled closer to the window. He extended a gloved hand, smug in all of his entirety. “My dearest pasty prince, may I escort you onto this branch?” he mused.

“Forget it,” I snarled. “If you’re going to be insufferable, I’ll just go back to doing my work.”

“No! Please!” Alfred whined. “Artie! Come on! It’s so nice out! Take a break for once.”

Silence.

Alfred’s cerulean eyes widened, tearing up for dramatic effect. “Please,” he said, waggling his massive hand at me. His long fingers grabbed at empty air.

Silence.

“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?”

My eyes twitched. Don’t look. Don’t look.

Damn it, I looked.

“Ple–!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, fine!” I snapped.

Laughing, Alfred took my hand. With a grunt, he hoisted me up onto the branch. He held my waist with both hands until I settled on the branch, comfortably next to him. There was a decent amount of distance between us. I pretended not to acknowledge the jolts of electricity that shot up my spine every time he touched me.

“See, isn’t it nice out?” Alfred said serenely, pointing up at the near perfect night.

I furrowed my brows. Just twenty minutes ago, it had been pitch-black out and now there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. The moon shone against us, a bright yellow orb that painted the campus with a dream-like dewy light.

“Yes, actually,” I admitted, glancing at the cluster of stars dotting the night. If you looked even closer, you could just barely make out the murky trails of several nebulas. The campus was in a remote enough location where star-gazing was far easier than it was in urban areas.

“I can’t remember the last time I was able to see full constellations,” I continued. “Actually, I just haven’t bothered to do something as simple as this for a long time now. You’re right, Alfred. It is nice.”

Alfred playfully bumped his shoulder against mine. “Thought so. You’re always so busy that you never look up to enjoy the simple things in life. I’ve yet to see you relax. Being high-strung must be a talent of yours.”

“Haha, very funny,” I yawned.

“Woah,” Alfred exclaimed when I began to sway without realizing. “Just how tired are you exactly?”

“Very,” I murmured. “I’ll be…fine.”

“No, no you’re not. Can I um…” Alfred faltered, craning his neck to look at me. “Can I wrap my arm around you? I just want to make sure you don’t fall!!!”

Turns out I wasn’t the only one blushing profusely.

“W-what?!” I spluttered, only to falter when Alfred shrunk back, embodying a kicked puppy position. “Well, ah, I mean, if you’re comfortable doing it, sure?” I squeaked.

Without another word, Alfred wrapped an arm around my torso in support. He was warm. I could feel the heat emanating from underneath his bomber jacket.

“T-thanks,” I whispered.

“Any time,” Alfred just about squealed, his voice a few octaves higher than normal.

Silence, again.

I willed myself not to breathe too much. Not that I was able to. Alfred was so close. I could smell him: leather, and the gruff scent of polish and hair gel. His arms were strong in their grip. I wanted to lean closer, but knew it wouldn’t be appropriate given our relationship.

Instead, I focused on admiring the night sky. If I met those wondrous cerulean eyes one more time, I didn’t know if I’d be able to handle it. They weren’t mine to look at. For now, I could only cherish them.

“Hey,” Alfred spoke up again. His entire body was tense. If he pointed up his chin any higher, he’d surely break his neck.

“Yes?” I replied, breathless.

“I really am sorry for earlier. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s fine. You just startled me, that’s all.”

Alfred chuckled. “Just like I did now?”

“Yes,” I smiled faintly. “Just like you did now, you stupid yank.”

“Aw come on, that’s not nice,” Alfred chided.

“Oh shut up,” I huffed. “You’ve patronized me enough tonight. Just let me enjoy this moment while it lasts. Soon it’ll be over, and then I’ll be thrust back into the never-ending cycle of lectures, papers, and mid-terms. I need an outlet to vent my frustrations onto; you just so happen to be it.”

“Fair enough,” Alfred snickered. “But, didn’t you say something about having an annoying roommate? Don’t you get to vent your frustrations onto him?”

“Oh, believe me I do,” I said in loathing. “I try to avoid him most of the time, though. Unfortunately, he has a tendency to find me wherever I am. Our meeting spot on the rooftop is the only place I can hide from him.”

“Is he really that bad?” Alfred asked.

“Absolutely intolerable,” I shuddered. “He blasts music all day, drinks wine, and parties just about every other night. Not to mention that he constantly picks at me for, well, everything. My clothes, my diet, my hair…my writing; apparently it’s really depressing and cryptic. He usually shuts up after I tell him his writing sounds like it’s written from the perspective of a sixteen year old drama queen. God, I can’t stand angst. Maybe it’s because my life is already full of it enough as it is.”

Alfred shrugged. “I don’t know, dude. Maybe your roommate is just trying to pull out the best in you. I’ve seen what you bring for lunch. Not that I’m a master chef or anything, but bread and butter isn’t enough to get you through the day. I don’t mind how you dress, and as for your writing? As long as he’s not malicious, it’s okay to accept constructive criticism. I’m sure he cares about you a lot more than you think. He wouldn’t bother if he didn’t.”

“Alfred,” I groaned. “I’m trying to vent. I don’t need a rational explanation and analysis like you’re my frigging therapist. I’m angry, leave me be.”

“I’m just saying,” Alfred protested, albeit weakly. “It won’t do ya any good if you keep pushing away people.”

“You currently have your arm wrapped around me,” I slyly remarked. “I hardly see that as pushing people away.”

“Touche,” Alfred admitted.

“How about you?” I asked, re-directing the conversation. “Surely, you can’t be that great of a roommate if you’re out this late at night. Aren’t they going to be angry when you come back and wake them up?”

Truth is, I had no idea where Alfred lived on campus. We had never even spoken about the subject.

“Nah,” Alfred waved his free hand. “I’m in a single. All I have to worry about is sneaking past my res supervisor. It was pretty easy considering most people are partying in their rooms at this time.”

I nodded my head, stifling my jealousy. What I would have given to have a room to myself. If only I wasn’t dirt poor. No matter, this was what I came here for. I’d get a degree and make myself a solid career.

“Are you always this impulsive?”

“Yes.”

“That was a rhetorical question,” I deadpanned.

“I know, it’s just fun bugging you,” Alfred countered with ease. “I like how your eyebrows furrow together. It’s cute.”

Words cannot how flustered I became after that comment.

Thankfully, a distraction in the form of a very drunk Italian saved me from responding.

“Antonio, you bastard,” Lovino slurred twenty feet below. “Come here, and sweep me off my feet. I c-can’t walk, ahahaha!”

Antonio stumbled forward and giddily wrapped his arms around Lovino. “You’re so cold, mi amor. That coat isn’t warm enough for you. Here, allow me to help.”

I had to look away for the sake of privacy when the two began to make out.

Alfred and I remained quiet until they had finally walked away.

“They’re sure having a good time,” Alfred said shyly, a hesitant smile on his face.

I don’t know what overcame me, but suddenly, a surge of boldness balled up in my chest. Seeing Antonio and Lovino together didn’t just make me jealous. I was motivated to test things out with Alfred, however small the chances they were.

If not, I was perfectly fine with being friends with him.

Still, there was a small sliver of hope. Alfred was bi. He had his arm wrapped around me. Everything was set into place, and appeared like they were in my favour. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation talking, but I didn’t care.

I leaned closer into Alfred, humming pleasantly. Alfred stiffened, but didn’t pull away.

Perhaps it was the sereneness of the moment, or that I was enjoying myself, but I desperately longed for more intimacy. It’s been too long since I’d experienced it. After years of keeping to myself, Alfred was the first person whom I had ever kept for more than just a couple weeks at a time.

I wanted him. More than that, I trusted him.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t me who made the next move.

Alfred brushed his right hand over my left. “You’re not wearing any gloves,” he murmured. “They…they must be cold, right?”

“Mhhhm, yeah, very cold,” I said, impatiently.

I curled my fingers so that my knuckles brushed into his palm. “Tell me something, Alfred. Are you comfortable?”

“Y-yeah why do you ask?”

I flipped our hands so that I was holding onto his. “How about now?”

“Yeah…very comfortable,” Alfred flushed. “I’m never shy with you, Arthur. You k-know that.”

I leaned closer, pressing my face a nose’s distance away from his. “How about now?” I blinked.

“I would be more comfortable if you kissed me,” Alfred said, bravely meeting my eyes.

“Took you long enough, lad,” I grinned. “I knew you were clever.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my lips against his. I moaned lowly when his tongue poked at my bottom lip. I opened in compliance, letting our tongues slip together in slow, experimental movements.

“Mmmph,” Alfred sighed, and closed his eyes. Large, steady hands raked through my hair while my own placed themselves against his rock-hard chest.

I couldn’t believe it. I was kissing Alfred Jones… and he was kissing me back no less, with just as much want and need as my own.

Our kisses became rougher, teeth clacking against each other; messily, hungrily.

I gasped when Alfred squeezed my hips, moving so that his back was placed against the trunk of the tree. Sometime in between our sloppy brushing, I had crawled over to straddle him.

“Easy,” I growled. “You’re going to leave bruises.”

“I’m sorry,” Alfred breathed into my neck, feathering the sensitive skin with delicate kisses. “I’ve just wanted to do this for so long now. You’re beautiful, Arthur. I can’t help it.”

I nearly sobbed right then and there, but instead focused on drinking up the pleasure of the moment. For once, I was being called beautiful. I wasn’t just thinking that of another person.

I needed a moment to breathe, to take in what had just happened. I resorted to pressing my forehead against Alfred’s, inhaling deeply.

Alfred grinned and rubbed his nose against mine. “You haven’t said anything. I’m worried.”

“That’s because I don’t know what to say,” I replied, sliding to rest my head against his collarbone. I was too shy to make eye contact. “Here I’ve had a crush on you all this time, and it turns out that you feel the same way. I’ve never had something work out for me so perfectly like this. Forgive me for being stunned by it.”

Alfred tucked his chin over my head, one arm rubbing my back in comforting circles. “Yup…” he trailed off, voice cracking. “That’s me for you: I think I’m being straight forward, but I only end up confusing people. I’ll probably never stop being impulsive.”

“Don’t!” I smirked.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t stop being impulsive. It’s the part of you that I like most. How you get antsy at every off-hand remark. Or how easy it is to make you happy. You’re precious, Alfred. I wouldn’t ever want you to change that about yourself.”

“You don’t know me, I mean, all of me,” Alfred murmured into my hair. “I suck sometimes by being awkward and getting mad easily, you just haven’t seen it yet. I say things that I don’t mean. I…I… shouldn’t have done this. It’s a wonder why you want to be friends with me. I…always fuck things up…”

I pulled away from Alfred, alarm setting in. “No.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, I said no. Don’t you dare give up now. Alfred, I’m in no rush to take things farther. I’ll be patient if I have to, because hell if we both know that I’m far from perfect myself. Still, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I couldn’t bear it if you left, not after all that we’ve shared together. I would be happy only being friends with you. Please, just don’t leave.”

Alfred’s arm tightened around me. “Okay,” he took a jagged breath. “Someone’s got to protect you, right? I won’t leave you, Artie. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me too. You make everything bad happening around me feel like it’s nothing. I just want to see you smile; to hold you close; to make sure you…take care of yourself.”

“I do take care of myself,” I hiccupped into his chest.

“No, you don’t. Come, I’m putting you to bed and then I’m going straight home. What kind of lunatic does homework this late anyway?”

“A nerd,” I dryly replied, trying not to look too disappointed as I pulled away from him.

“I must be in love with a lunatic nerd then,” Alfred smiled, shyly with a bigger one just begging to be released. He still looked so uncertain. I didn’t want him to feel this way, so I resorted to being sarcastic in the hopes of teasing him out of his shell.

“And I must be in love with a grammarless yank.”

“Selective grammarless yank,” Alfred corrected.

“Yes, yes, whatever. Now are you going to help me into my room or not?”

“Oops, yeah, sorry.”

After much protest, and awkward fumbling movements, Alfred helped me into my room. He also forced me to put my books away. I offered no protest. He had an insufferable habit of making it impossible to say no to him.

Once the lights were shut and I was tucked underneath the covers in an angry, curled position, Alfred smiled and sat next to me on the side.

“What?!” I snapped. “I did what you said, didn’t I?”

“Nothing,” Alfred whispered. “You just look really cute again, grumpy too.”

“If you’re trying to flatter or court me, it’s not working,” I scoffed, turning my back on him.

Alfred placed a hand on my waist. Even though there was a good amount of fabric between us, it still burned pleasantly. “Don’t be like that,” he tutted. “Artie, look at me.”

Reluctantly, I flopped onto my other side. My glare was still in place, but my hot cheeks took away from the act. “What?” I spat.

Alfred bent over to kiss my forehead. “Good night. I should really get going, though. I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?”

When he got up to leave, through the window as we had already agreed that Francis seeing him would cause way too much trouble and questions, I panicked. “Wait!” I hissed.

Alfred turned around, gaping. “Huh?”

I bit my lip. “Can you…stay?”

“Only until I fall asleep!” I added when I noticed the hesitant expression on his face.

The mattress shifted with another weight again. Things didn’t seem real. I was just so happy. “Okay, that I can do.”

“Good,” I said stiffly, and left it at that.

“Geez, Artie. Aren’t you just full of surprises?” Alfred laughed lightly. “I thought you didn’t need anyone else in your life?”

“Shut up. People change. It’s called character development.”

“Right, right. I’ll just let my handsome prescence lure you to sleep.”

He hadn’t just been teased out of his shell. He was lounging on top of it now.

“You’re lucky I’m exhausted,” I warned. “Otherwise – yawn – you would be expecting a good slap to the face for being so cheeky.”

“Literally.”

“Could you stop being such a smartass?” I snarled.

Alfred reached over to sweep a few strands of hair out of my eyes. “That I can’t do,” he said in a smug tone.

I rolled my eyes, too tired to argue. “Good night, Alfred. I hope you trip and fall on your way out.”

“You don’t actually mean that. Stop being so mean.”

“You’re right, I don’t. But it was still fun to say.”

“Shhh,” Alfred smoothed the back of my head. “You can argue with me all day tomorrow. But, you won’t be able to if you don’t get a good night’s rest.”

“Very true, love.”

“I just said shhh. You’re so stubborn, geez. I’m going to be here all night if you don’t stop.”

Precisely.

I hmphed but didn’t say anything more. Last night was the best sleep I’ve had in years. Why? Because someone other than Alistair genuinely liked me for me. I didn’t doze off with pervasive guilt, self-loathing or general anxiousness.

I was finally at peace.

…

The following morning, I staggered into the kitchen. I had woken up far later than usual, Alfred of course having already left some time last night.

I had a shift in an hour, so I would be able to see Alfred then. Honestly, I’d never understand why he was so adamant on being old-fashioned in everything he did. To not have a cellphone in this day and age was almost unheard of.

Francis was sitting at the small table we had set up, his laptop open with the latest news and a mug of coffee in his hands. He was already dressed and primed to perfection, whereas my hair was sticking up in every possible direction

I pretended to ignore Francis, refusing to let him sour my good mood. Hell, if he wasn’t there to stare at me, I probably would have allowed myself a small smile.

Someone liked me.

And I liked them back.

I still couldn’t get over it.

I drew the last straw when Francis tsked at me for my choice in breakfast: oatmeal and a slice of toast.

“What?!” I snapped. I was standing up, eating my toast over the sink. AS if I was going to sit down with him and engage in a civil conversation. Not when he was looking at me so critically.

Francis took a slow sip of his coffee, eyebrows raised. When he finished, he set down his mug in a dramatic, languid motion.

“You’ve been out communicating with spirits again, haven’t you?” he accused. “Arthur, it’s dangerous to do it alone, especially late at night. I would have come if they were bothering you that badly.”

“I did no such thing,” I said, and bit into my toast with a loud crunch.

Francis’s eyebrows raised even higher.

“I swear to God, I didn’t!” I snarled. “Stop looking at me like that. Even if I did, which I didn’t, I’ve already told you that if I need your help, I’ll ask!”

“Oui, whatever, keep lying to yourself. See if I care,” Francis sighed. He stood up from his seat and exited the kitchen.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?!”

Francis looked over his shoulder, sapphire eyes rolling. “I don’t know, ask yourself. You’re the one being suspicious.”

I turned away from Francis, furious.

My curiosity peaked when I realized that he had left his laptop open. Carefully, I leaned over the device.

In the search bar, he had typed in “How to get rid of nosy roommates.”

With a splutter, I blinked harshly when the webcam opened to snap a photo of me with a bright flash.

Francis poked his head into the kitchen, an obnoxious lilting smirk on his face. “What did I say: suspicious. Now I have my proof. The Arthur I know would never care about what I search, let alone think. You’re unusually happy, and it’s beginning to freak me out.”

So much for my good mood.

To be continued…

#hetalia #aph #aph England #aph America #USUK #aph France #spamano #fanfiction #ellaawkward #mun would like to see more reviews #she's curious about your thoughts and predictions

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