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dustofbrokenheart · 4 years ago

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The Covenant: Top Anon

Pogue Parry x Reader

Word Count: 2,288

Summary: You have a loyal follower who comments on every post under your food blog. Just who is your favorite follower and why is the new grocery boy kinda cute too?

It was a new year and the start of a new you. Well, that is, a you who was trying new things.

In the past, you always made resolutions, but that spirit ran out before the month of January was even done. But after the particularly rough time of the past year, you swore that this time would be different, that you would make a serious effort to do something new.

It was that determination that led your current situation—your kitchen countertops were covered with ingredients and cooking utensils, your cell phone resting on a near by tripod for filming purposes.

The goal for this year was to try running a blog, and since you were a bit of a foodie, it made a lot of sense to center the blog around cooking and food. The idea came to you quickly; the hard part was deciding on a name, which took a while.

Eventually, you settled on The Foodiest. Naming was not one of your strong suits, but it was enough to get the point clearly across to potential viewers.

Choosing the layout design was on the same level of easy as deciding and didn’t take more than a day or two to implement on your site. Thank goodness for the existence of pre-made layout templates that saved you the effort of having to code everything yourself.

With of the work on that end finished, the day had finally come for you to actually cook something to post about. Seeing as how January was a cold, winter month, you chose to make mashed sweet potatoes. Not only was it one of your favorite winter side dishes, it wasn’t hard to make either, giving you the confidence that even if your writing was lackluster, at least the food would look good.

Most of the blogs you were familiar with used a combination of text and photos for readers to follow along with, but you were going to try video in place of images. You sometimes struggled to copy based on what was shown in the photo, especially when you first started cooking, so you hoped video would make it easier on budding chefs who came across your content.

Luckily, the video would be sped up and lapsed for the final post to spare people from having to watch the monotonous parts in full length.

Hands on your hips, you surveyed everything one last time to make sure it was all ready. With a satisfied nod you reached forward to tap the large, red record button on the phone.

You debated whether or not to talk while filming but decided against it. You were nervous enough posting to the blog without having the added stress of talking.

Everything happened in its regular order: you started by peeling and chopping the potatoes, a basic step, but you took your time doing it, paranoid as ever that you would cut yourself with the knife. Next you boiled the bright orange chunks in a pot of water; then put them in a mixing bowl once they were cooked. And finally used an electric mixer to blend it all nice and smooth, adding in milk, brown sugar, and cinnamon.

Swiping your pointer finger through the finished product, you hummed with delight at the delicious, sweet taste. You pulled out a presentable bowl from the cupboard and spooned some orange fluff into it for the final reveal. Reaching blindly towards the far end of the counter you grabbed a bag of pecans to top off the mashed sweet potatoes. You scrutinized it and added more pecans for good measure.

Doing something in front of a camera was very different than doing the same thing on a normal day. Tension leeched out of your shoulders and you exhaled loudly with your head leaned back. A sense of pride warmed your chest, especially as you returned your gaze to the picturesque bowl. It looked great and tasted even better.

There was a large portion of leftovers because the recipes you used were collected from family and meant to feed small armies of people. You did your best to eat what you could and made plans sharing the rest with friends and coworkers later.

A few days after you published the post, you decided to check the stats on your account dashboard to see what the public response to it was, if there was any at all. Google analytics was useful for counting the total number of views it received while the blog site itself tracked the likes and… a comment?

Initial shock gave way to a bolt of excitement that had your fingers tingling with energy. You clicked to read it, wondering what it may say. Fingers crossed it was something good, whether it came in the form of a compliment or some constructive criticism.

Anonymous: wow good job

The chair creaked as you sat back slowly. You didn’t know how to read that, there wasn’t a whole lot to go on. Wow good job, said sarcastically? Wow good job, said excitedly? It didn’t help that the commenter didn’t believe in using punctuation either. And since it was submitted anonymously, there was no easy way to track down who sent it.

But maybe you were being too paranoid about it. You decided to take it as a compliment and cracked your fingers before firing off a response.

Foodiest: Thanks anon! I had a lot of fun with this dish. Hope you tune in for the next one :)

Anonymous never followed up with that particular exchange but they commented on every post without fail for the next two months.

Anonymous: nevr had white chili before it was good

Anonymous: the stuffed pepper were good

Anonymous: good call with the shrimp

Of course, all of the messages were sent as anonymous, so there was no 100% guarantee that it was the same person, but your gut feeling told you that it was. Who else had no respect for grammar rules and religiously used ‘good’ as their only descriptor?

You grew to expect, and enjoy, the weekly comment left by anon and made sure to leave a nice response in return. It was hard not to feel a connection to someone who took the time to try your recipes and leave a nice message. If only you could figure out who it was or at least have a name for them besides anonymous.

Foodiest: I’m glad you liked the recipe! My gramma swore by mayo when making grilled cheese. Thanks for always liking my stuff, if you ever want to talk more feel free to message me!

There. Maybe that would make them feel comfortable to give you their name you thought as you powered down your laptop for the night.

You spent the next couple of days leading up to the new post planning on what recipe to cook. Yep. Definitely not hoping for more information about anon.

For this newest post you decided to make some Indian curry, one of your favorites. Even long after you finished cooking, taping, and cleaning, the potent scent of spices was still heavy in the air, like aromatic nirvana that had your mouth watering even with a full stomach.

You tried your best not to refresh the post every few minutes to see if anon commented but it was tough. It turned out that you didn’t have to wait long as they left a comment within twenty minutes.

Anonymous: havent cooked this yet but looks good. Never really had indian before so have to go buy the stufff first – po

Anon finally gave up a name! You let out a happy noise and read it again. Po… short and to the point, just like all of the previous responses had led you to think about them. There was no time to waste, you hurried to write back, initial typos all over the place as the words out-paced your fingers.

Foodiest: Hi Po! It’s nice to have a name to put with your words. I would recommend going to an Asian Market for the spices, they’re more likely to carry them. Let me know how it goes for you :)

Since that conversation, Po and you chatted frequently about the weekly recipe choice, whether or not it looked good and if Po had plans to make it themselves, which they often did. Po seemed to like all types of food; vegetarian, meats, drinks, desserts, even ethnic dishes from places as far off as Bolivia and Morocco.

And the longer you two talked, the more frequent the messaging became. Whereas in the beginning Po would only submit a compliment that you would follow up with a ‘thank you’, it had turned into lengthy back and forths that took up a majority of the comment section for each post. More followers joined as the months went by and you hoped that they weren’t intimidated by your blatant favoritism but it was just so easy to talk with Po. If you were being honest with yourself though, it wasn’t only that it was easy… you genuinely liked talking to them.

Every time you made a new post it was difficult to not refresh the page every few minutes to see if they had left a message. And when they did, it was like a shot of electricity straight into the system where your heart would jolt and your face would flood with heat. You were hesitant to say it was a crush given that you didn’t know what they actually looked like and the computer screen barrier made it so you were content to define it as friendship.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you grabbed your wallet and keys while putting on shoes so you could make a quick run to the store. You had big plans to make some buffalo chicken wings for the blog this week and you needed to stop by the store to pick up some ingredients that you didn’t have, namely Frank’s Original Red for the buffalo sauce and blue cheese for the dip. Being an adult and responsible for your own grocery shopping was a chore at times.

Luckily, Winter had thawed out into Spring so there was no need for you to warm up or car or scrape your windows. You just hopped in and drove the four blocks it took to get to the store. The plan was to cross the stuff for the wings off of your list first and then browse around for some good snacks to tide you over for the next week or so. Things were going according to plan until you saw him.

A tall boy wearing an employee apron stood in front of the cracker section, his jaw line and soft looking long hair catching your eye. Then he reached up to the tallest shelf to restock some boxes his arms flexing slightly to show off his heavy biceps and his shirt rode up, exposing deep cut ridges in his lower abdomen. To put it simply, you were starstruck.

He finished with the boxes he had in-hand and went to grab more from the cart at his side when you noticed your blatant ogling. Rather than confront you about it he merely smiled and moved out of the way so that you could get to the brand that you wanted. Choking from embarrassment, you kept your head down and threw a box of Goldfish into your shopping cart, speeding to get out of the aisle and his presence.

The store was a small local business and you frequented enough to know most of the workers there but you didn’t recognize this one, meaning that he must be new. What a way to make a first impression on him. Clearly your constitution was no match for his rugged, good looks. Then he was polite enough not to comment on you objectifying him which somehow made you feel even worse about it.

You decided to end the shopping trip almost immediately knowing that you were too spooked to continue shopping lest you run into him again.

You rolled the shopping cart into an open check-out lane and started putting your things on the conveyor for the cashier to scan. It just so happened that you knew the cashier—she was a middle-aged lady who’d been at the store for nearly two years. “Hi, Y/N. Find everything you needed?”

“Hey, Eva. Yes, I did.” You tried to steady yourself. Eva had a notoriously sharp eye and wouldn’t hesitate to question you if you looked off.

She left you alone today, engaging in normal chit chat, until she had trouble scanning the bottle of Frank’s hot sauce. Eva frowned when it didn’t want to scan and tried again but the bottle slipped from her hands and the neck of it shattered. Eva cursed and huffed, hurrying to throw the bottle into the trash before more leaked onto the register.

“I am so sorry, hun! I’ll get you another.”

“It was an accident,” you assured. “I can get it myself—"

“Not a problem,” she assured you with a wink. She pulled a walkie from her hip and spoke into it. “Hey, bring me a bottle of Frank’s Original Red Hot Sauce. Quick.”

You barely had time to don your awkward smile as she talked about how her neighbor’s dog kept pooping in her yard when the guy from the cracker aisle walked up behind Eva and handed a bottle of hot sauce to her. She took it and patted his back to get him to move forward.

“Thanks, hun. Y/N this is the new grocery boy—”

“Pogue,” he interrupted. “My name is Pogue.”

_______________

Another fic where they know each other but don’t know that they do. This time featuring Pogue and his fandom accepted interest in food. I picture him to have bad messaging skills — his fingers struggle with those tiny phone buttons.

#the covenant #pogue parry #pogue parry x reader #imagines

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3pirouette · 3 years ago

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Fic: Worthy (or Five Times Steve Talked to People about Time Travel and One Time He Didn’t) (1/1)

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine. Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: “What…what if I stay?” He took a breath. “I don’t feel like there’s much for me there… in the future… anymore. I’m tired. I wanted… I wanted to hang up the shield when that war was over… I think I’ve given more than my fair share.” His words fell to nothing as he finished that sentence. “I only ever wanted to do my fair share…”

A/N: I started this on August 8, 2019. I have revisited it various times since then, fixing things that were misremembered after we got Endgame on DVD and fixing tenses. It feels more appropriate than ever right now to post, though. The first section, with Wanda, was written back in 2019. I’ve made minor edits, but her words have been around LONG before WandaVision was even announced. Obviously, by the ending, AU.

Also, I KNOW I skip potentially the MOST important person he should be talking to, but Steve’s conversation with Bucky from this fic actually got pulled out and turned into it’s own fic/universe: Six Dates, Times, and Places. Read that if you need some BFF Steve and Bucky.

~*~

Steve woke up at night in cold sweats, still feeling the vibranium cracking under his fingers as he tried to recenter himself, as he tried to remember where he was. The small tent on the edge of the former battlefield wasn’t much, but it was better than he’d been used to when he was in the trenches, and it was enough for now.

He let other people, better equipped people like Pepper and Strange and Sam handle the big stuff- the cities and the government and the publicity and the how of everything they did. He was never really prepared for what happened if they brought everyone back, he admitted it to himself now on dark nights when he woke up with his heart racing, that he never really thought they’d do it.

He headed up the clean-up: walking through the destruction and trying to put some order to it, helping dig out the bodies of good men and women who lost their lives, who wouldn’t be brought back by a snap, helping destroy the tech that Thanos had brought so it never fell into the wrong hands. He and Wanda spent their days putting right what went so very, very wrong.

Even with everything nearly done, with the building nearly ready for renovation and every lost soul accounted for and laid to rest, it didn’t seem over. It had been weeks, and yet the years before seemed like moments. He spent his days moving like a ghost, going from task to task, keeping his thoughts to himself.

After it was over, when the clean-up was deemed done and it had been decided it was time to move on, Wanda was the first person he said anything to as they stood together on the ridge, overlooking the old Avengers headquarters as it was bulldozed to the ground. “I should probably feel happier,” Wanda mumbled. “At peace.”

Steve sighed, looking at the scorched dirt beneath his feet: it was ruined. Nothing would grow there for years after the hit it took. “You don’t have to feel anything.” He looked at her, unsurprised to find tears slowly making their way down her cheeks. “I don’t.”

“I’ve thought so many times about…” The words caught in her throat, but she took a deep breath and continued, “About sneaking into Bruce’s lab and taking that stone. The time stone…”

Steve didn’t say anything, just waited for her to finish: he was afraid that his own selfish desires regarding that stone would just fuel her own.

“But going back wouldn’t fix it,” her words were as much for his benefit as her own. They both knew it was far, far too tempting.

“You don’t think so?” He played the devils advocate, and it felt good to let it out. “You don’t think that maybe you two could just avoid it all? Or even stop it all?”

“After this?” She looked over the dead land and shuddered. “The way I understand it, it would always happen, would always come. And I just…” Her voice broke, and there was a darkness in her eyes he was uncomfortable with when she turned to face him. “I just couldn’t live through that again.”

Wanda turned to walk away, but stopped, looking back at him. “We deserve more,” she whispered. “We’ve lost everything to make this happen. We deserve more.”

It wasn’t much of a conversation, but it was enough to remind him that those dark thoughts were just that- thoughts. And those thoughts would have consequences he wasn’t ready to pay the price for, or so he told himself.

Deep down, he felt like he deserved something, too.

~*~

The next time he discussed time travel was with Bruce and Hank. Pym was describing the use of his newly altered regulators while Bruce was constructing a smaller platform. This would be the last time, they both said over and over, that it would be used. Pym planned to destroy all references to the quantum realm in his work and Bruce had been working with Fury and Shield to carefully control the flow of information about what had happened.

“Son, please tell me you understand how dangerous this little trip of yours is going to be?” Pym asked him softly, laying both his hands on the table as he looked him right in the eyes. For a minute, Steve felt like he was back with Erskine- Pym had the ability to see straight into his soul the same way that man did.

“I understand, sir.” Steve nodded, trying to hide every morsel of dark thought, every late-night inkling and every dark moment. He was going to bring the stones back, return, and… and… He doesn’t know where he fits in in this new world, doesn’t even know if he wants to, really, and that must be what Pym saw on his face.

Pym narrowed his eyes at him, but didn’t move. The silence stretched so long that even Bruce stopped what he was doing to look over and watch. “Ask your question.”

Steve could barely hold the façade of surprise for a breath before it fell. He let the pretense fall away: his shoulders hunched, his eyes dropped to the floor, and he felt like a different man. He felt like Steve, the broken veteran, and not Captain America, the superhero. “How much… how much damage can I really do?”

Before Pym could speak, Bruce put down his wrench and had his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I know that look, Steve. That’s the look I had about a million times before I left every place that ever meant anything to me.”

Pym slid a stool over and sat softly, his face grim. “There’s not much that you could say that would surprise either of us, so I suggest you come out with it.”

Steve looked at them, their faces as open and honest as his was at every grief management group he ran during the dusted years: they were waiting for him to say that he wasn’t coming back because he wanted to take his life.

But it was more like he wanted to take his life back. It hadn’t been his since Erskine accepted him into Project Rebirth, he just didn’t know it then.

“Don’t I…” He stopped, staring at his shoes. It took a lot for him to look up, into their eyes. “I don’t feel like…” He stopped again and took another deep breath. He wasn’t sure if they’d ever understand. He wasn’t sure if they could.

He shoved his hand in his pocket and it bumped against him compass. His lifeline. His reminder.

He knew their stories. If anyone could understand, they would.

He pulled the compass out and opened it gently, putting it on the table. “Her name was…”

“Peggy Carter,” Pym finished. “She busted my balls as the head of Shield, but she was on my side when it counted.” Pym turned the compass gently, noting the slow spin of the broken dial.

Bruce looked at Steve, sadness in his eyes. “Steve, I didn’t…”

“No, I didn’t want anyone to know.” He shrugged, taking the compass in his hands. “She died, right before the bombing and the signing of the Sakovia Accords.”

Pym stood, the scraping of his chair cutting off anything either man would have said. “You were… a lot skinnier when you met her, weren’t you?” He stepped next to Steve, hands shoved in his pockets. “Kinda sickly, too.”

Steve laughed, a slight smile on his face as the memory hit him. “I wasn’t exactly in the best shape of my life.”

“Director Carter kept this picture on her desk of a skinny, kinda confused looking GI.” He looked up at Bruce, “I asked her about it one day. I knew she had a husband that no one ever got to meet, and that he was at least 6 inches taller than her based on the glimpse I managed of him once when I showed up at her house unannounced.” Hank began to circle the room, hands coming out and fidgeting. “She said it was someone she knew during the war, and that it was a reminder to never take a single thing for granted. Now, most people assumed it was her brother who was KIA.” He turned and looked at both men, a smirk on his lips. “But the way she smiled when she looked at it: it wasn’t sad and it wasn’t sisterly, either.”

Pym picked up a vial of the serum, looking at it. “Bruce, correct me if I’m wrong, but to be as honest as I can be, we really don’t know what kind of damage you could do if you go back and…” he chose his words carefully, “don’t stick to the plan.”

“Uh, that’s true. We really don’t know how this works; I just know what Strange and The Ancient One told me. That if we put them back, it should kinda… fix itself.” Banner shrugged, unsure if he was as onboard with what Pym was implying as Pym seemed to be.

Pym almost looked happy as he continued to think out loud. “We don’t know the rules. For all we know, there are no rules to it. The Quantum Realm is… nearly unknowable. But the way she looked at that picture…” He sighed, placing the vial back in its rack. He looked Steve in the eyes, open, honest, and unjudging. “You’ll have enough to get back, if you want to.”

Pym went back to his computer, and Bruce went back to his tinkering, and Steve never heard another word on the subject from either of them.

~*~

His first stop in the past was the sanctum. He wanted to meet the Ancient One, to see her, to hear what Bruce had told them for himself directly from her.

She didn’t disappoint. She took the stone back, letting it float into the locket she wore with no more fanfare than if she were asking him about the weather. “So, I assume you prevailed?”

“We did,” he confirmed, sitting when she gestured for him to join her in the library. “There were still losses…” he sighed deeply, thinking of Tony, “but we won.”

She sat quietly, waiting expectantly as the tic of the clock was the only sound between them for long minutes. “In your time,” she whispered gently. “Your question is not something that can be rushed.”

“Do you know what I’m going to ask?” He leaned forward, letting Mjolnir rest on the floor, the case full of stones next to it.

“No,” she tried to smile but it fell flat. “I can feel the anger and frustration coming off you in waves, the defeat, the… fatigue. You did not come to me first out of convenience.”

He looked away, still unsure of where to start even though he had said it a million times over in his head. In the end, he blurted it out. “What if I stay?”

He’d caught her off guard, for it wasn’t remotely what she thought he’d ask. She sat straighter; eyes wide. “I’m sorry?”

“What…what if I stay?” He took a breath. “I don’t feel like there’s much for me there… in the future… anymore. I’m tired. I wanted… I wanted to hang up the shield when that war was over… I think I’ve given more than my fair share.” His words fell to nothing as he finished that sentence. “I only ever wanted to do my fair share…”

She looked at him, wonderment in her eyes, “You never planned on giving up your whole life.”

He tried to laugh it off. “The things you don’t understand when you’re barely more than a kid, right?”

“You had hopes and dreams, just like any other man out there.” The Ancient One stood, stepping toward him. “Why that surprises me, I’m not sure. Even Gods are men at their very core. Even I was once a woman with hopes and desires.”

“It feels wrong to say these things out loud...” he let his hands fall to Mjolnir, afraid to try to lift it. Every day since the battle he’d been surprised that it still comes so easily to his hand.

She came closer until she was kneeling before him. “And yet they must be said.” She waited until he met her gaze. “If you go back to your time, my future, what waits for you?”

He took a deep breath, leaning back, eyes far away. “Friends. Duty.” He sighed with the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Putting the world back together and finding our place in the universe.”

Her expression didn’t change. “And what waits for you if you go back to the past?”

He couldn’t look at her. “I don’t… I don’t know if…”

The Ancient One put her hand on his. “What do you hope is there?”

Steve smiled briefly, the words out before he can stop them. “I had a date.”

“Love,” she whispers, almost disappointed.

“And understanding,” Steve pipes in quickly. His words grow passionate as he continues. “She knew me better than anyone ever has- she knew me before this,” he gestured to himself, not for the first time wishing his muscles were a suit he could shed to show people just what he was like, and why it’s so significant that Peggy understood him back then, “and she still stood by me. I got the feeling… I got the feeling that even if the serum never worked she still would have liked me. No, I’m sure of it. She was smart and beautiful and everything I ever dreamed my future might be.” He stopped short. “Don’t... don’t I deserve that, after all this?”

“The universe doesn’t deal in ‘deserves’ Mr. Rogers.” She stood, her voice flat and perfunctory. “If it did children wouldn’t die of cancer and good men wouldn’t die in religious wars.” She kept her hand on his, pulling him to his feet. “The universe deals in balance, though, and I feel you are due for some rest.” She reached down, lifting the case of stones and handing it to him, but she did not even attempt to lift the hammer. “Go on,” she waited as he gingerly lifted the hammer, his breath coming easy after it was in his hand. “I cannot tell you anything for sure. But I can tell you the sanctums you know of are in existence back farther than you could imagine. Should you feel things have taken a turn for the worse, do not hesitate to find me.”

Her smile was gentle, and somewhat forced, but it made him feel just a little better.

~*~

The soul stone disappeared from his case as soon as he materialized, and he didn’t stay to find out why. He understood the toll that place could take, and he had so very little left to give.

He left so quickly he didn’t hear the Red Skull whisper his name on the wind.

~*~

Once on Asgard, he thought about just putting the hammer down and letting Thor find it, but he decided that wielding it might just get him out of trouble if he was caught trying to make his way into the palace through the underground tunnels Thor told him about.

The only person who saw him was the one he least expected.

“Why did he send you?” Loki asked from behind the forcefield. “Unless… he isn’t…”

“No, he’s not dead.” Steve supplied the information wearily.

The god paced his cell, “You’re from the future, as well, then?” He smiled at the soldier. “Thor was looking a bit… pudgy.” His voice and face showed his confusion and slight repulsion at the idea. “That’s not the Thor running around with his little girlfriend up there now. I know that much.”

“Things went…bad.” Steve didn’t know how much to tell the man. He believed Thor when he said Loki wasn’t the villain they pegged him to be, but he also was still very wary of the god. “We…did what we could.”

“Could you be any more cryptic?” Loki sat on his bed, leaning back, amusement in his voice. “Interesting development, though, there,” he pointed to Thor’s hammer, “You must truly be something to wield that.”

Something must have changed in Steve’s face, something barely perceptible, but Loki saw it. “You doubt yourself?”

Steve knew he shouldn’t talk to him, and yet, there was something alluring about the trickster. “I’m… concerned I won’t be… worthy.” It sounded lame even to him as it fell out of his lips.

Loki laughed. “Who is?” The trickster paced. He started to speak, then changed his mind with a dramatic shake of his head. He stopped, crouching behind the forcefield so he was eye to eye with Steve. “Whatever it is rattling around in your head… You’re leaving Mjolnir here, aren’t you?” Steve nodded. “Then does it really matter if you’re worthy?”

Steve looked at the god, his mind clicking slowly around the idea that perhaps his own morality didn’t matter. He tilted his head and regarded the hammer. “This is the only thing I’ve ever really wanted purely for myself, and somehow that seems wrong.”

Loki stood, smoothing out his coat with a huffed laugh. “You’re talking to a man who has been politely described as a narcissistic megalomaniac. The only things I’ve ever really wanted were for myself. I learned that lesson young.” He looked Steve right in the eyes. “If you don’t want it for yourself, whatever ‘it’ is, no one else will want it for you.” Something sad fell behind Loki’s eyes though his face didn’t change. “No one will just give you what your heart desires, not when you’re giving them what they need. They’re thinking about themselves, not you. Sometimes, you have to just take it.”

The revelation settled like a rock in the pit of Steve’s stomach. He didn’t want to believe it, but somehow it felt right. ‘Captain America’ served a purpose. He filled a hole that needed filling by someone and as long as he was there, they were going to take advantage of that.

He didn’t need to take over the world, as Loki had attempted, but he needed to take what he deserved before there was nothing left to have.

Before there was nothing left of him to enjoy it.

~*~

With each step through the Lehigh base he kept thinking one thought: this is too easy.

There were less guards, less people, than when he’d been here last, and theoretically, if he’d done things right, that should only have been less than a few minutes ago. He tried not to dwell on the knot settling in the base of his stomach as he swiftly moved to put back the tesseract.

He almost had it slid in nice and tight when the voice came over his shoulder. “Jarvis said he saw you. I thought the man was nuts, but he refused to leave.”

Steve let his head fall, his hands on the edge of the glowing box. “Howard…”

“I didn’t tell anyone, just cleared out the base.” Steve heard the soft footsteps as his former friend joined him. “Said I needed to run a dangerous experiment.”

Steve turned, taking in the tight and so much older face of his friend, unsure of what to say. Howard shoved his hands in his pockets but just continued. “I mean, I wasn’t exactly sure you’d come back, or if Jarvis had ever really seen you in the first place, but here you are, putting back something you stole from me. Without even a hello?” Howard laughed darkly, pointing at his suit. “You get tired of the red white and blue, or are you serving another nation now?”

Steve pressed his hands to his own chest, his head falling down and his eyes squeezing tight. “It’s a long, complicated story, Howard. And I don’t know how much I can really say.”

Howard shook his head, disappointed. “Can you tell me who that man was with you? The one who couldn’t even remember his own name?”

Steve couldn’t look at him, pain coursing through him at the loss of his friend. “No.”

Howard waited until Steve looked at him, cutting him close with the hurt in his voice, “Can you tell me why you never told me you were alive?”

Steve nodded. “That much I do owe you.”

Howard bobbed his head, really taking in the appearance of his friend for the first time. His eyes went wide as he looked at Steve and found the things he tried to not see before: the new lines along his eyes, the tightness of his jaw, the way the lines around his mouth had deepened that all signaled not only was this not a social call, but the man was not all that well. “Ok, well, I’ve got a bottle of scotch in my desk, that’ll have to suffice for me.” He tipped his head, “Let’s go.”

The hallways were deserted, and Steve lingered his eyes just a second too long on Peggy’s door, which had only blackness behind it.

Howard noticed. “I sent her home, too. She doesn’t know why and I’ll catch hell for it tomorrow.”

Steve didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing. A few more steps and they were settled in Howards office, Steve on the almost comfortable chair across from Howard as he sat behind his desk, pouring out two tumblers of scotch. “So, can you tell me how I managed to look for you for years and here you are, waltzing into my facility and stealing the tesseract?” He lifted the glass to his lips, taking a hearty gulp. “Though, since you were putting it back, I guess you were just borrowing.”

Steve took the other tumbler from the table, holding it in his hands but not drinking. “I’m honestly not sure what I can or can’t say that doesn’t risk changing things.” Steve stopped, took a deep breath, and leaned forward. “But what the hell, right? If anyone’s going to understand this… will understand how important it is, it’s you, right?”

Howard shrugged, leaning back in his chair, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “There’s a good chance I’m your guy.”

Steve took a second, eyes lost in the whiskey. It wouldn’t do anything, but the idea of it somehow gave him courage all the more. He drank it like a shot, swallowing and putting his glass on the desk. “I’m not even sure where to start.”

Howard set his elbows on the desk, leaning over it, intensely curious. “How about at the beginning… How did you walk away from that plane crash? We looked for you for-“

“I didn’t,” Steve interrupted, solemn. “I spent almost 70 years in the ice.”

Howard sat up straight. “But you’re…”

Steve couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh or cry. “I told you it was a long story.”

“That’s why you’re worried about changing things.” He leaned forward, hands in fists. “You managed to time travel?” Howard shook his head, his eyes glazing over as he thought. “Is that like a… normal thing in the future?”

“No,” Steve replied right away. “It was a last desperate attempt to…” he took a deep breath. “A lot of people had died, half of…” He took another breath, not really sure how to explain it all. “It was more than just our world at stake.”

Howard pushed back, eyes wide. “Other…planets?”

Steve smiled and nodded. “Yeah. The future was… interesting.”

Howard reached over and lifted the bottle of scotch, the liquid only half filling it. “We might need more than this…”

Steve laughed, really laughed, for the first time in months. “For this story? Yeah.”

~*~

An hour later Howard was pacing the length of his office, sleeves rolled up, hair tousled from running his hands through it, and half a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. “You weren’t kidding.”

“No. It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” Howard laughed and leaned back against his desk. “It’s a fucking mess is what it is.” Howard turned and put both hands on his desk. “I can’t believe it actually fucking worked.”

Steve felt guilty. He hadn’t mentioned Pym, not knowing exactly how the two were relating at the moment. He hadn’t named Tony, either, just called him ‘an inventor’ and later Iron Man and gave no indication to his friend that his son would end up dying to save humanity. But there were some things he wasn’t ready to risk ruining, some things he couldn’t quite yet face. “That’s… not the worst part.”

Howard turned his head, his eyebrows at his hairline as he looked at his friend. “There’s more?”

Steve looked at his folded hands, feeling guilty. “I want to stay.”

“Is that inherently a problem?” Howard searched his face, hoping for some hint. “You are, technically, more from this time than you are that one.”

“I… don’t know.” He sighed. “I was hoping you would.”

Howard sank in his chair, kicking his feet up on the desk. “Like, if you stay, you become your own grandfather or something like that?”

“Well… not quite, but yeah.” Steve’s teeth were set on edge. Of all the people he knew, of all the people he’d asked about this, Howard would be the one to give it to him straight.

Howard tented his fingers, eyes un-focusing as he thought about the problem.

The phone rang and Howard ignored it, looking at his friend. After five shrill rings he lifted the receiver and slammed it back down, silencing it. “What did… what did the scientists who were helping you say about—” He was cut off again as the phone rang once more. With a sigh Howard put it on speaker. “Hello?”

Jarvis’ anxious voice filled the room, startling Steve. “I’m sorry sir, but I couldn’t stop her without risking serious bodily harm.”

Howard’s face soured, “Stop who?”

The door behind Steve crashed open. “Howard you bloody wanker this is absolutely ridiculous. You ship me off for no reason when I have serious work to do. You’re not even doing an experiment are you? No, you’re drinking and—"

It was when she looked down that she got her first glimpse of him, and it ripped the words from her mouth.

He stood, slowly, and tried to smile, even though he could feel his heart beating hard in his chest. “Hi, Peg.”

Her breath caught and her mouth opened and closed for a moment before the only thing she could think to say fell from her lips. “You’re late.”

~*~

End Notes: To keep track, here are the five times: 1. Wanda 2. Pym/Bruce (Yes, they count as one, sue me) 3. The Ancient One 4. Loki 5. Howard. And the one time he didn’t was Red Skull. I don’t write this trope that often, so… yeah.

This was all written LONG before Loki came out. Just in light of all the silliness going around I felt like I needed to post, and hopefully some of you needed to read it.

Let’s keep fandom happy and enjoyable, friends.

#Steggy #Steggy Fic #3P writes stuff #Salty as hell and I'm going to write fic about it

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warrioreowynofrohan · 4 years ago

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Noldorin Rulers - A Public Policy Analysis

Fëanor

A civil servant’s nightmare; the kind of person that makes one want to beat their head against the wall. Extremely stubborn once he has chosen a course of action; little to no inclination towards planning ahead; regards anyone who disagrees with him as an enemy.

In his extreme rush to depart from Valinor, he leaves behind items of extreme value for intelligence and communication, the palatíri. If they could see as far as Beleriand from Valinor, using them prior to leaving would have been highly prudent. In addition to preventing him from being completely blindsided by the very existence of Angband, it would have told him that Olwë’s brother was the ruler of a substantial realm in Middle-earth that was under attack by Morgoth, thus providing a much stronger argument when seeking to convince the Teleri to join in the Return (“Your brother needs your help!” is clearly a better case than “You’re all ungrateful assholes”).

Even if the palatíri couldn’t be used at such a distance, bringing them along would still have bern invaluable. Using them upon arrival would have, again, provided the knowledge that Morgoth had a fortress and considerable resources of materiel and personnel. Their surveillance and long-distance-communication capabilities would have been of great value throughout the First Age. They could also have prevented the Nirnaeth, where the lack of communications abilities between the two armies was a key factor in the defeat.

And while we’re on the topic of leaving behind invaluble military resources, let’s not forget the the much larger issue of leaving behind more than half of your army - again, while pursuing a war against a very powerful enemy whose full capacities and resources are unknown to you - on the sole basis that they don’t like you very much. It’s an almost incomprehensibly bad decision, entirely on the basis of personal pride, with no practical merits whatsoever. You’re in unknown territory, about to commence a war that you’ve already been warned is hopeless, and your first decision is “No, we need fewer people”?!

And yet, for all this, Fëanor is not the worst of the Noldorin leaders described here. More on that to come!

Fingolfin

During his time in Beleriand, largely does an excellent job from a policy perspective. Firstly, upon arrival, refrains from immediately attacking Angband - despite Morgoth being at a temporary tactical disadvatage due to the Sun - in order take time to gather intelligence and enable his forces to recover from the crossing of the Helcaraxë. He avoids conflict with the Fëanorians despite he and all his people having a rather substantial grievance against them, and when Fingon provides him with an opportunity to reconcile, he does so, and proceeds to set up surveillance of Angband and seek to establish diplomatic relations with the other peoples of Beleriand.

He doesn’t become offended when Thingol is unwilling to meet, and is satisfied with the practical choice of having Finarfin’s children act as go-betweens. He arranges Mereth Aderthad for mutual intelligence-sharing, strengthing of bonds, and diplomatic engagement, and it is essentially successful, though hampered by Thingol’s isolationism. And he doesn’t lose sight of his goal - of the main Noldorin leaders, he’s the most interested in attempting to attack Angband during the Siege.

Maedhros

Many similar characteristics to Fingolfin, during the period of the Siege. Doesn’t allow himself to be offended easily, avoids and defuses conflict insofar as he is able (even if it means moving his family to the other side of Beleriand), seeks out opportunities to build new alliances. Probably very annoyed that Caranthir lost the opportunity to recruit the Haladin by ignoring them for too long.

Somewhat more cold-blooded and ruthless about policy and objectives than Fingolfin - his statement that Thingol’s realm consists of the areas Thingol can militarily control, and everything else is in practice Noldor territory, comes to mind. And while his motive for recruiting the Men of the East (the Noldor and Edain have a lot fewer people than Morgoth has orcs) doesn’t have to be characterized as “we’re low on cannon fodder”, it certain can be seen that way. (And if Caranthir, never the most diplomatic, was rather less subtle about that, it could explain certain changes in allegiance.)

Fingon

On the whole, he does well. He’s very much a military leader - in addition to taking on Glaurung, he detects and deals with a party of ocrs that are seeking to carry out a surprise attack on Hithlum from the west. He’s stated to have been on good terms with everyone, a valuable characteristic in the contentious House of Finwë. If there’s a policy flaw, it’s that he leads rather too much from the front, given that he’s the crown prince and (after Turgon’s disappearance to Gondolin) there’s no clear heir after him, something that would leave his advisors biting their fingernails.

Turgon

Tempermentally, the opposite of Fingon: not impulsive, and inclined to be slow and conservative in his decision-making. For example, does a lot of planning on Gondolin, but doesn’t take any action until Ulmo gives him more of a push.

The later choice not to evacuate Gondolin is a wrong one, but it comes from a lack of faith more than from bad policy. The policy-makers and bureaucrats of Gondolin would largely have backed the choice - they have strong and extensive defenses, and the rest of Beleriand is overrun by Morgoth’s forces, with no safe strongholds. If they might be attacked in Gondolin, they undoubtedly would be attacked elsewhere, with no walls and towers guarding them. Staying is clearly the most prudent choice. Policy and prophets rarely mesh well.

Finrod

Very good from a policy standpoint, in several respects. He’s proactive, and when he lacks knowledge and expertise on a subject, he seeks out those who have it. We see this with the construction of Nargothrond - first, when considering a place to build, he asks Thingol, since Thingol has greater knowledge of the region. Then he hires the dwarves to help in the building, since they’re the experts on subterranean architecture.

He’s also an skilled diplomat. He stays on good terms with the House of Fëanor (he’s visiting Maedhros and Maglor when he first encounters the Edain). His diplomatic skills are of great benefit to the Edain: for example when he negotiates with Thingol to permit the Haladinto live in Brethil, as well as, earlier, helping Beor’s people to avoid conflict with the Laiquendi. He’s also the only one of the Noldorin princes who consults with Thingol about the Edain, another important indicator of diplomatic tact since the Noldor are inviting the Edain to settle in what is (from Thingol’s point of view, anyway) Thingol’s realm.

He’s certainly more of a diplomat than an administrator, but he is decidedly not a flake or a lightweight. However, it’s certainly possible that the people of Nargothrond felt that they were not a high priority, which could have played a role in later events.

Which brings us to -

Celegorm

If Fëanor is the kind of leader who makes policy types want to beat their head against a wall, Celegorm is the kind who make them want to shoot themselves - or him. Setting aside the patent immorality or everything he does in Nargothrond, and evaluating it solely from the perspective of whether it achieves his goals, it’s still unremittingly terrible.

Let’s begin by granting that in addition to the goal of 1) fighting Morgoth, he and Curufin also have the goals of 2) preventing anyone else from obtaining a Silmaril and 3) consolidating the rule of most of Beleriand under the House of Fëanor by gaining control of Nargothrond and alliance with Doriath.

So. Beren shows up wanting to get a Silmaril out of Angband. There are two possible options here: either it’s impossible, in which case there is no need to impede him, or it’s possible, if which case you want to be involved to at least a sufficient extent to get the Silmaril from him once it’s out of Angband. And you have the ability to talk to animals. So the optimal course is to find a bird that can carry a lightweight, written message to your brothers; proffer assistance in the quest; and have a midsized military force intercept the team on the way out. Moreover, you’ve got the opportunity to try to obtain the other two Silmarils while infiltrating Angband as well - which also gives you a passable non-suspicious motive for the offer of assistance. But going by their actions, actually attempting get the Silmarils away from Morgoth isn’t a priority for Celegorm and Curufin.

So let’s move on to Goal 3, rule of a large segment of Beleriand by the House of Fëanor. Here, again, Celegorm’s methods are not at all conducive to his ends. First, Finrod departs with a very small force on a very dangerous mission into the heart of enemy territory. He is captured. Celegorm regards this as a good thing. However, a little thought would show that Finrod is the person with the most knowledge of Nargothrond - its precise location and means of access, its strengths, its weaknesses, its defenses. He is in the hands of Morgoth’s most skilled torturer. If he breaks, that is a disaster for you. That opens the way to a large-scale invasion, in which case you’ll have no realm and no refuge and no allies, having burned your bridges. And the plans involving Lúthien are even worse, because there is no scenario in which success achieves your goals. Given the nature of Eldarin marriage, if you actually manage to marry her the only possible result in the death of both you and her. (It’s worth noting that Huan’s defection likely saved his master’s life.) And whether she is captive or dead, the most probable result of this plan is the invasion of Nargothrond by Thingol (longer renditions of the Leithian, outside the Silm, note that Thingol was preparing for an attack on Nargothrond when news arrived of the fall of Tol-in-Gaurhoth), which is both bad for you and terrible for the war effort.

So all you’ve managed to do is come up with a succession of actions which are inherently counterproductive to your goals and alienate the two largest realms in Beleriand (with disastrous later consequences for the Nirnaeth).

(I’m barely going to touch on the later attack on Beren and Lúthien, because by that point any long-term goals are entirely forgotten and Celegorm and Curufin are operating solely on the basis of lust and spite, but I will say - If you succeeded, where were you intending to go? Do you think Maedhros will be impressed if you show up on his doorstep with a kidnapped Sindarin princess? Because he won’t be!)

[Many points in the analysis of why Celegorm’s decisions are all terrible can be credited to Philosopher at Large, author of The Leithian Script.]

#tolkien #the silmarillion #fingolfin #maedhros #fingon #turgon #finrod #celegorm #curufin #beren #lúthien #beren and luthien #fëanor

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fatehbaz · 5 years ago

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In a way, I was raised by strawberries, fields of them.

Not to exclude the maples, hemlocks, white pines, goldenrod, asters, violets, and mosses of upstate New York, but it was the wild strawberries, beneath dewy leaves on an almost-summer morning, who gave me my sense of the world, my place in it. [...] Our mental maps had all the landmarks we kids needed: the fort under the sumacs, the rock pile, the river, the big pine with branches so evenly spaced you could climb to the top as if it were a ladder - and the strawberry patches. [...]

White petals with a yellow center - like a little wild rose - they dotted the acres of curl grass in May during the Flower Moon, waabigwanigiizis. We kept good track of them, peeking under the trifoliate leaves to check their progress as we ran through on our way to catch frogs. After the flower finally dropped its petals, a tiny green nub appeared in its place, and as the days got longer and warmer it swelled to a small white berry. These were sour but we ate them anyway, impatient for the real thing. [...]

Even now, after more than fifty Strawberry Moons, finding a patch of wild strawberries still touches me with a sensation of surprise, a feeling of unworthiness and gratitude for the generosity and kindness that comes with an unexpected gift all wrapped in red and green. "Really? For me? Oh, you shouldn't have." After fifty years they still raise the question of how to respond to their generosity. Sometimes it feels like a silly question with a very simple answer: eat them.

-----------------------------------------------------

It's funny how the nature of an object -- let's say a strawberry or a pair of socks -- is so changed by the way it has come into your hands, as a gift or as a commodity. [...]

The pair of wool socks that I buy at the store, red and gray striped, are warm and cozy. [...] The exchange ends once parity has been established, an equal exchange. They become my property. I don't write a thank-you note to JCPenney. But what if those very same socks, red and gray striped, were knitted by any grandmother and given to me as a gift? That changes everything. A gift creates ongoing relationship.

Wild strawberries fit the definition of gift, but grocery store berries do not. It's the relationship between producer and consumer that changes everything. As a gift-thinker, I would be deeply offended if I saw wild strawberries in the grocery store. I would want to kidnap them all. [...]

I'm a plant scientist and I want to be clear, but I am also a poet and the world speaks to me in metaphor. When I speak of the gift of berries, I do not mean that Fragaria virginiana has been up all night making a present just for me, strategizing to find exactly what I'd like on a summer morning. So far as we know, that does not happen, but as a scientist I am well aware of how little we do know. The plant has in fact been up all night assembling little packets of sugar and seeds and fragrance and color [...].

What I mean of course is that our human relationship with strawberries is transformed by our choice of perspective. It is human perception that makes the world a gift. When we view the world this way, strawberries and humans alike are transformed. The relationship of gratitude and reciprocity thus developed can increase the evolutionary fitness of both plant and animal.

The stories we choose to shape our behaviors have adaptive consequences. [...]

In material fact, Strawberries belong only to themselves. The exchange relationships we choose determine whether we share them as a common gift or sell them as a private commodity. A great deal rests on that choice. For the greater part of human history, and in places in the world today, common resources were the rule. But some invented a different story, a social construct in which everything is a commodity to be bought and sold. [...]

One of these stories sustains the living systems on which we depend. One of these stories opens the way to living in gratitude and amazement at the richness and generosity of the world. One of these stories asks us to bestow our own gifts in kind, to celebrate our kinship with the world.

We can choose. If all the world is a commodity, how poor we grow. When all the world is a gift in motion, how wealthy we become.

In those childhood fields, waiting for strawberries to ripen, I used to eat the sour white ones, sometimes out of hunger but mostly from impatience. I knew the long-term results of my short-term greed, but I took them anyway. Fortunately, our capacity for self-restraint grows and develops like the berries beneath the leaves, so I learned to wait. A little. I remember lying on my back in the fields watching the clouds go by and rolling over to check the berries every few minutes. When I was young, I thought the change might happen that fast. Now I am old and I know that transformation is slow. The commodity economy has been here on Turtle Island for four hundred years, eating up the white strawberries and everything else. But people have grown weary of the sour taste in their mouths.

A great longing is upon us, to live again in a world made of gifts. I can scent it coming, like the fragrance of ripening strawberries rising on the breeze.

-----------------------------------

Robin Wall Kimmerer. Braiding Sweetgrass.

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f-117-nighthawk · 3 years ago

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Playlist Update? From MY Brain? More Likely Than You Think

can't remember the last time I posted these all together but I just put a few new songs in. I've been playing Arknights bc STARSET songs keep being used in the trailers, and then I was listening to Transmissions while making dinner, and uhhhhh there's two new Transmissions songs on the playlists, plus whatever else the spotify links needed to update to my ever-changing apple versions.

This is just the main playlist, because this one is now 3h 40m, and the other three playlists are about an hour each. I’ll give them their own post tomorrow. Under the cut, because it's also Write Random Snippits and Include Important Lyrics time

Dark Matter

Surprise surprise, this one’s got probably the most work done on it. A lot of that is moving things around, a few deletions, and the additions.

DM now starts with Your World Will Fail, Dark Matter, and Eater of Worlds. Turn the Lights Out still kinda applies, but I stopped vibing with it starting everything, and wasn’t really sure where else it should go so it got dropped. It’s role is sort of picked up by a UtA song later? Anyway, the opening three are still very much about not only the birth of [REDACTED], but the birth of the universe itself. And that’s why it feels better to start out with YWWF. Because it is the start.

(Your world will fail my love/It’s far beyond repair/Your world will fail my love/It is already there)

(Bring me your soul/Bring me your hate/In my name you will create/Bring me your fear/Bring me your pain/You will destroy in my name)

(Can’t imagine the violence/The rage and the love in my madness/I am the eater of worlds and I’m looking for someone to feed me)

Remnants of Stars is a hook to Filaments at this point, but stays way up here because the thing it’s about connects back up to those three ^ and is something slowly realized by the Paladins throughout the series. There’s kinda three different points that they realize something new about this (at the moment, I Am the One, Cosmic Vertigo, and Centigrade).

(Shed all you know and make way for a galaxy of light/Answers found hidden inside the smallest stone/Bringing forth a new way of life/Open your heart to the sky)

Apocalypse 1992 hasn’t changed. Still about The Fall, still the turning point for the entire damn war. Still about poor Krolia. Still the Rogue One of DM. It happens between parts of Awakenings, detailing the rise of [REDACTED] and the final hours before the destruction of everything sentient species knew beforehand.

(Fly high through apocalypse skies/Fight for the world we must save/Like tears of a unicorn lost in the rain/Chaos will triumph this day)

Apex is the final moments of Apocalypse 1992 from the Red Lion’s perspective, and connects nicely (just as in the albums lol) to the next UtA songs. Which we’ll get to in a bit.

(Brother mountain/Now we sleep/For a thousand years/I will see you again/Something is coming/Coming for me)

You Keep What You Kill covers the slow degeneration of the Empire between The Fall and the Battle of Arus. The knowledge harshly taught by the Thuanial War is forgotten under the influence of Zarkon, Haggar, and [REDACTED]. Marzin and Galraasa quickly rise the ranks as the Empire’s left and right hands, like omens of destruction before them. The four are the ‘holy half-dead,’ the ones who shape the devouring of the universe before them.

(Defying dimensions/These ruthless creatures will steal your soul/Breaking away from the chains of mortality/They won’t be taken down/Bow now to the holy half dead/The master to death mongers calls)

The Glory and the Scum is partially here bc I missed having Delain, I’ll freely admit that. (Delain split up! Like six months ago! I’m still sad!) Here, it’s (most) of the reason why Krolia isn’t around until MGHM. Think Winter Soldier-ish. It’s also from Krolia’s perspective as she’s talking to Kolivan in a conversation I implied in Shatterpoint. Perhaps it shall see the light of day.

(Look at what we've done/Take a step back/Shake your head at what we have become/We're the glory and the scum)

The Seven Sisters is about Keith, mostly, and connected to Closure via its influence on Child From the Stars (Lost in the Dark) and also to Memories of a Girl I Haven’t Met. Also the thing about the Pleiades has kinda become A Thing associated with my two favorite halfbloods.

(I cast my hope upon The Pleiades/The Seven Sisters who would come for me/They’d fall to Earth to grant a child’s dream/But I’m still waiting)

Starlight is the Adashi song. Here, it’s the sad part, based around the time that the SFSS Genesis launches for Kerberos. It also is sort of about Shiro’s thoughts throughout the war as he watches ‘from distant skies’ (and influences String Theory kinda)

(At night the earth will rise/And I’ll think of you each time I watch from distant skies/Whenever stars go down and galaxies ignite/I’ll think of you each time they wash me in their light/And I’ll fall in love with you again)

Waking Dream and Abyss are Awakenings. They’re specifically the Red Lion waking up on Sendak’s ship to her new Paladin, but also sort of the rest of the Lions as they find new Paladins for the first time since The Fall (and, also, an accidental hook to the end of Filaments just by virtue of being on the same UtA album…)

(Centuries like flowing streams as years go rushing by/Waiting in the dark for afterlife)

(Open my eyes in a daze/How long has it been? Am I so out of place?/Warmth I can no longer feel/My mountain is gone, I’m surrounded by steel/The strangest of structures arises ahead/Seems to be held up by nothing/Where have I gone, do I dream?/How can the stars be all I can see?)

Who Will Save You Now is about the Paladins in First Contact. It’s the video messages they send to their families, the warning that Something Is Out Here that they need to prepare for. It’s a declaration of protection for Earth, but a recognition that the Paladins may not be able to do what they say.

(I will not take from you and you will not owe/I will protect you from the fire below/It’s not in my mind/It’s here at my side/Go tell the world that I’m still alive)

Then there’s The End of the Beginning. Which is, well, the eponymous fic. And don’t forget the String Theory connection! Fun fact: part of the last chapter leads directly into part of String Theory at the moment.

(Every night I die just a little/All this time, I’m caught in the middle/All your life, you fought with no winning/This is just the end of the beginning)

A Simple Plan is about anything but a simple plan. Lotor is making his secret bid for the construction of the Sinkline ships, but there’s one more thing he needs before it can come to fruition. Haggar has suspicions, and knows one thing that she needs to keep from both him and Voltron. Team Voltron is still struggling to fit into their new roles, especially with a Black Paladin who adamantly does not want to be Black Paladin, and is in desperate need of one thing to fix the last of the damage done during the Battle of the Sarnan Nebula.

(How long can we hold off ending?/How long can we pretend we’re ok?/No one goes on fighting it forever/I know I’m better this way)

Memories of a Girl I Haven’t Met. Such a short song for such an important fic. It skips all the way over Naxzela to the Mission to the Baaria Shipyards, the first major offensive that isn’t somehow connected to canon (even if only a very very small part of it is actually at the shipyards lol). This is also the song that solidified Keith’s very queer identity in Dark Matter. And more Pleiades stuff!

(In this lonely place, bathed in silence and thoughts of you/I can’t see your face but I’m trying to envision you/So are you really out there? Are you awake with memories/Of a boy you haven’t met yet who’s wished upon the Pleiades?)

There’s another fic in here that I’m still waiting for a song to catch my ear, but it’s pretty big so I’m putting it in here. For the moment, it’s called MGHM 2.0: Electric Paladinloo. Featuring the Whispers, Voltron, and a few mullets.

And then. Hoh boy. The beast of beats. TRIALS (reimagine), Dark On Me, String Theory, and I Am the One. We’ve got [REDACTED], we’ve got [spoiler], we’ve got the first major turning point in the entire war, and the first revelation of the true nature of [REDACTED]. Hence the honor of being the separation point of my two main DM folders. TRIALS is the first part, the horrifying realization. Dark On Me and String Theory itself are from Shiro’s perspective. I Am the One is… an image song? I guess? That’s all I’ll say on that. (I would like to note that the STARSET songs bar OWtT tend to be about the Shiroganes…)

(Hear me from the bottom/Forged in regret, I'm the silversmith/Doomsday, you we had it coming/Marching the streets with an iron fist/Obey no more in silence/The steel in our hearts will be monuments/Today, they'll hear the violence/We'll rise from the dark like Lazarus)

(You're the cause/The antidote/The sinking ship that I could not let go/You led my way, then disappeared/How could you just walk away and leave me here?/Light the night up, you're my dark star/And now you're falling away)

(You don’t believe in space/You don’t believe in light/You don’t believe that anything is well beyond your might/We walk across the sky and beneath the ocean floor/We’re never going anywhere we’ve never been before)

(I am the one/I am the architect to rule your fate)

House on Fire is the aftermath of String Theory, and a large vibe of We ARE Struggling Together! It’s about family, never letting go of something you care about, and the slow act of trusting.

(So I’ll just hold you like a hand grenade/You touch me like a razor blade/I wish there was some other way right now/Like a house on fire we’re up in flames/I’d burn here if that’s what it takes/To let you know I won’t let go of you)

Belgrade is The klance song! It is a) a bop b) always stuck in my head because it is That Good. The line in the chorus about ‘sweet songs of seduction’ is eternally funny to me bc a)they’re both ace and b)QPR’s don’t usually involve seduction. Belgrade also leads almost directly into…

(We pretend in the darkness/We pretend the night won’t steal our youth/Singing me the sweet songs of seduction/Let me be the fool, fool, fool/Who will live and die for you)

Here to Save You is about Sam. Mostly. It’s also about Pidge. And Zaivorge cannons.

(A slave for humankind/I made sure I would survive/To stay alive/Now it’s time to move on/When there’s nothing left to prove/I’m coming to get you)

Iron is the third Closure fic (the second is End of the Beginning, forgot to mention that. They’ve slowly moved away from actually being related to it in anything but name and general idea). It’s about Keith coming to terms with parts of himself, and learning how to use them to great effect. Also has a huge info dump about the Blade.

(You can’t live without the fire/It’s the heat that makes you strong/‘Cause you’re born to live/And fight it all the way/You can’t hide what lies inside you/It’s the only thing you know/You’re embracing that, never walk away)

The second major turning point in the war is Monarch, Birthright, and Firewall. I really recommend reading the whole lyrics for Monarch, because the entire thing is very much a Lotor song. I had a bit of trouble picking a lyric to use here. Monarch is here because Lotor is also the ‘singer’ of Birthright, and both songs are to a very specific high-level target of the Coalition. Firewall is a little different as it’s a Team Voltron song not a Lotor song, but happens because of the same thing the other two do. They’re all not exactly a direct result of Iron, but they wouldn’t happen how they do without it, and then [REDACTED] swings back into the fray and things learned in String Theory/the framing story for Through Apocalypse Skies hit in full force.

(I am not the person you remember from before/The one you patronized and stepped on, the one you hurt/And I have pulled the arrows, now my skin has become stone/No longer am I prisoner to your empty fucking words)

(The voices in my head have all begun to sing/(The voices in your head have all begun to sing)/And they sure as hell hope I am listening/(I sure as hell hope you are listening!))

(They come to your dreams with illusion/They come to bring shape to your mind/You know how to stop the intrusion/We all have to fight for our lives)

and then, The Day the Earth Collapsed

(How much time has been elapsed/Since the day the earth collapsed?)

Here Comes the Reign doesn’t come into full effect until several months after Birthright/Firewall, but starts with The Day the Earth Collapsed. It’s largely about Haggar and [REDACTED]

(You made something they can’t take away/Now bring the fire of the burning sun on everyone)

Supersonic is here… kinda as a placeholder? Things have shifted around since its original purpose, and frankly it’s here still as a framework for what I like to call The Meme Battle. It’s generally about the increase in Coalition support and general winning as they go after warlords in the aftermath of Feyiv, culminating in I Need a Hero which is, of course, The Meme Battle.

Yes, it’s the Shrek version. It’s the Meme Battle.

(Supersonic, polyphonic, this is our war/Mustering the armies, marching faster than before)

(I need a hero/I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night/He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast/And he's gotta be fresh from the fight)

But Tonight We Dance isn’t exactly a klance song, but it’s here for them. On a diplomatic mission gone wrong, the Red and Blue Paladins of Voltron uncover a literally-buried government conspiracy, a rebel cell, and nearly die. A normal days work for the two of them. But they’ve really gotta stop having relationship milestones in the middle of a warzone.

Another reason it’s here is Tonight We Dance is a very aro song to me. “A language universal, but I speak not its tongue” hits hard. I felt like I needed a bit in here to remind listeners/readers that romance isn’t a language Keith speaks. And it becomes very explicit in this fic, just like Belgrade.

(Tomorrow we might wake in servitude and silence/I will give you everything if only you would have me/Tomorrow we will sweat and toil/Our hands will quiver, caked with soil/Tomorrow we'll give it one last chance/But tonight we dance/But tonight we dance!)

But Tonight We Dance is the last of the Closure fics, which is why it’s here. Closure in general is a lot of Keith’s character development and some of the struggles he goes through to accept his place in the universe and the fact that yes, he does have people that care about him. The last fic is me shining a brighter light on Closure’s chorus and taking a ‘last goodbye’ as never needing to say it again

(I am the child from the stars/That got lost in the dark/Between heaven and hell/I am forced to live on/I am the cause when you sin/I am the demon you skin/But there is no more tears to beautify/This is my last goodbye)

Then we step back into the universe-level action with Soulbound. Revelations from String Theory and Firewall swing back in with a vengeance on a joint Whispers-Voltron mission, leaving them reeling and Krolia questioning her very identity.

(Soulbound, endlessly forever/Locked between the darkness and the light/Don’t drown in the swarming, blackened rising/Hold on to humanity and fight)

About three months after that is My Darkest Hour and Faster Than Light. Haggar realizes something and goes searching for her fifth [spoiler], sending the Blade and the rest of the Coalition scrambling. These also lead directly, and I mean directly, into…

(When the sun comes crashing down/When the world is spinning round and round/I will face what must be my darkest hour)

(Once more we’re flying fast as light/Dark matter passing in the night/Pursued by a force we can’t outrun/As we hurtle towards a dying sun/We maneuver through the remnants of a moon/On the solar winds of supernovas/There is not a place to hide, the Matriarch is close behind/It’s plain to see she’s coming for us all)

Cosmic Vertigo and Other Worlds Than These. Together they are the second of two revelations in what, exactly, is [REDACTED]

(Banish me like burned down planets/Write my fate with sparkling lies/I am the universe; you're just one sky)

(Pull the wool out from your eyes/It won’t shade your frail belief/In the end we cannot hide/There are other worlds than these)

Godhunter is Team Voltron, well, hunting for gods, even as one of them disappears.

(She’s been watching for a century/With hatred, and with scorn/If you know the hunter’s coming/Then you hide or keep on running/'Cause she’s slain the gods before)

Trophy Hunter, Ember, and Redemption are the culmination of Godhunter. I’ve been thinking of them as akin to the suicide mission in Mass Effect 2, if that gives you an idea of what the hell they run into. Also I switched which specific Redemption is on the playlist, because I was listening to Red Handed Denial again and their Redemption was vibing way more than the Hammerfall one. They link up to Godhunter and Soulbound in subject matter, and lead directly into…

(You, you won’t escape me, I’ll rise from the deep/In this final moment, no words left to say/I can’t let you be when a life fades away/You, you won’t escape me ‘cause I’ll set you free)

(Dark matter falling from the sky/Dancing flames reflecting in your eyes as you watch them burn/Watching all your riches witches burn)

(Remember me not for the mess I’ve made/But who I could have been/Finally I’m going home)

World On Fire, This is a Call, The Reckoning, The Wind That Shapes the Land, and Louder Than Words. Switched the order up a bit so it makes more sense chronologically, because the message ‘sent by forces beyond salvation’ has to get there before the reckoning can begin.

(World on fire with a smoking sun/Stops everything and everyone/Brace yourself for all will pay/Help is on the way)

(This is a call to action/This is a call to arms/All lives for one, together/There are no false alarms)

(I see your face, find peace of mind/Between the madness and the sadness and the fire burning/The end of war, the great divine/We’ll see the day of reckoning)

(Search within/Uncover the will to win/Turn against the tide that washes o'er/Find the strength to fall and rise again/Open up the gates, unleash the force/I am the wind that shapes the land/Old as time and twice as strong/Oceans arise at my command/I alone can carry on)

(We have the force to fight/We have the blinding light/A war is more than heard/Coming in louder than words)

#i am dark matter; your road to ruin #dm playlists #guess who spent two hours on this! again!#as usual!#long post #i'm teaching in the morning and it's one am #oops

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fleechin · 4 years ago

Text

Separatory Funnel

Here’s my 2020 Portal Secret Santa for @artistyutaki, she offered a few prompts but one that I thought was interesting was Chell and GLaDOS/PotatOS hiding from Wheatley in the later chapters of Portal 2. I thought I might as well tie it into some of Chell’s thoughts about the ordeal, while also showing what Wheatley’s up to. I also noticed she was interested in the idea of computer gore, with plates and cables all over the place, so I tried to incorporate a bit of that in as well. I also threw in a tiny nod to Mel and Blue Sky since she mentioned she’s a Blue Sky fan. So this ended up being longer than I thought, and it’s my first time writing a proper fanfic of sorts, but I really hope you like this! I had a great time making it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was not the best place to be in right now.

Not that it ever was down here, but where Chell was at this exact moment was especially not great. She didn’t complain though, it could always get worse. Actually, it usually did get worse, especially right about when she would wonder if it ever could. Perhaps it was best not to ask that question right about now. Sure, she had just fallen from a deactivated funnel and landed in a dark office whose only door was blocked by overturned desks, monitors, and furniture, which happened to be heavy enough that it’d be a pain in the back to move but for whatever reason the Portal Gun didn’t want to pick up. On the bright side, at least she didn’t fall all the way back down to the 1950s again.

Realistically though, knowing Aperture, it was bound to get worse no matter what she did. If even superstition was anywhere near reliable at this point, it would have been an improvement compared to everything else in this insane complex that somehow had only gotten stranger and more… alien-like, almost, after its founder had died of moon rock poisoning. At least the idea of a set of metal underground spheres laced with asbestos and full of half finished test chambers, the brainchild of a man proudly named Cave, was somewhat navegable. There was an understanding that if one were to see some place and travel far enough in that direction, they would eventually get to that place. If that place moved downwards in freefall, it would be because of the design of the facility, not some sarcastic supercomputer trying to keep her testing while calling her fat.

This bundle of desks, chairs and monitors was somehow all tangled up, with the wires going all over the place. It looked like she would have to either pull the whole thing at once or remove each one separately.

The recordings she heard from Cave Johnson painted a general picture, though they didn’t get awfully specific. But seeing as ground up moon rocks were all the rage down here back in those days, and hearing Cave coughing while ranting about lemons for some reason, it wasn’t difficult for her to figure out exactly how they managed to finally bring down the founder of Aperture. The real surprise? That somehow every other employee at Aperture hadn’t inhaled the stuff and keeled over. It had to have been a possibility, as there was no way that anyone smart enough to work a portal gun would have taken it upon themselves to design any part of this place without being crazy enough to consider the idea.

This table was a lot heavier than it looked. Hopefully she could fold it over. It wasn’t exactly easy to see the parts that let the table fold on itself when it was this dark.

Could she have been one of those scientists? Chell couldn’t remember anything about herself before waking up under Her testing course, however long ago that was, or whether she was actually adopted, like every personality construct in this place seemed to think was a big deal. Any attempt at figuring out how she got down here would have to be based on guesswork. She was a test subject, which made her a likely employee at some point, though if Her insults were anything to go by, she was only a part time employee. Not committed to this job, just doing it on the side to make ends meet.

She finally managed to fold the damn table, and began to drag it out of the way.

At least that meant she wasn’t some Olympian from the 60s who got tricked into going here. Or a homeless person that got plucked off the streets of some town in Upper Michigan all for the promises of $60 at the end. She wasn’t sure how much that would be in today’s money, but wasn’t about to get optimistic. The real downside to it all was that she never would be able to figure it out. She didn’t even know how long it had been other than that it was long enough to concern Wheatley about brain damage, and even if there were information available about her and why she was here to begin with, she didn’t want to go out of her way to find it. Her main goal was getting out of here as quickly as possible, so there was no time for expositional detours.

At most, she could stumble upon her backstory without looking for it. Figuring out what happened to Caroline was enough for one day, or however long it had been since she had last gotten some sleep. Besides, it would probably be a huge letdown anyway. Maybe she really was adopted after her birth parents considered her completely unlikeable even as a baby. Maybe her last name was something boring, like Smith. Or Jones. Maybe her name wasn’t even Chell at all. But hey, at least it wasn’t Cave. Hopefully.

Of course, she could just ask the supercomputer turned potato battery where she came from. Yes, that would be a great idea, confiding in who up until recently was her own worst enemy about a detail that She had constantly made fun of. She definitely wouldn’t take advantage of that fact and tell her all about how little Miss Chell SmithJonesWhatever couldn’t hold a single job until she came here because everyone hated her. They seemed to be on good terms now, but she wasn’t going to risk jinxing herself. Besides, she had a rule. No talking in Aperture. Nothing that any AI said was ever worth a response.

So the lights didn’t work in this room anymore. Phenomenal.

Regardless, even though it still didn’t explain whether she was one of the employees, part time, or otherwise, who might have almost inhaled ground up rocks that cost anywhere from a TV to a house - she wasn’t about to do the math to figure anything more precise than that - it was at least clear that she had made it into Aperture under vaguely legitimate pretenses, and that they considered her smart enough to get her hands on a machine that, in the right hands, could’ve solved the world’s climate crisis by generating free energy. It was damning with faint praise.

Which just so happened to summarize the remarks from her semi edible companion. Not directed at her, for once, rather the situation at hand. Neither one of them were the most frequent of talkers, but She was more willing to comment on the situation. Funny enough, once they happened to agree with each other, Chell could reasonably rely on her as somewhat of a spokesperson.

“After seeing what he's done to my facility, after we take over again, is it alright if I kill him?”

Chell looked over at the glowing yellow circle, the only part of Her she could actually make out in the darkness of the room, and could only shrug her shoulders. Do whatever you want, she would have said. Frankly, as much as the two had been getting along, Chell wasn’t about to act like this was some new found friendship between the two. As far as she was concerned, the facility deserved to explode in a mushroom cloud with a giant blast radius. The bigger the better. If she was lucky, it would kill Her, Wheatley, and every other personality construct. Just as long as she wasn’t there for it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since he was connected to the mainframe, Wheatley had been trying to figure out how to work this new body. Now that his only test subject was missing, admittedly due to a mistake on his part, he could explore further. There had to at least be some way to hack the solution euphoria program. But until then, the next order of business was to redesign his lair to his own liking. Not too bad a job She did, but it didn’t quite have the Wheatley style to it. Needed a bit more work. Namely, getting rid of that stalemate button. No way that could remain.

“Right, so, asking the announcer... voice... guy... didn’t seem to do anything.” He said out loud, “Guess he didn’t quite understand what I was getting at. Hmm, wait a minute, maybe if I go and change this setting, then- Это программное обеспечение повреждено. Удалите его и обратитесь к администратору. Aaaand, nope, still there. Hasn’t even budged a little bit. Guess that didn’t work.”

He then remembered the complexities of hacking the neurotoxin emitters and thought he might start there. “Oh, um hello, Mister button, there.” He said in an accent beyond the rage of any human’s hearing, “I’m a representative of the mechanical parts… association, and we are inviting you to a… convention! Yes, a convention, with all sorts of members, cubes, turrets, even other buttons! And we’d like to invite you! Full expenses paid, shuttle bus straight there to the convention. And there’s going to be a whole panel on buttons! Who knows, they might even have you as a guest speaker! All you have to do is head straight down to the lowest part of the facility! That’s where the bus is! Just head on down there and you’re good to go!”

The button didn’t budge.

“Not one for conventions I guess? Perhaps you’re more of an introverted sort of button. Doesn’t mind being pressed but also fine with staying where he is.”

Wheatley, being the genius he knew he was, figured he ought to look in the old tapes to see what Her old room looked like. Ever since She had been killed, the facility had been in some disarray, of that much Wheatley was well aware. The relaxation center had taken a hit, for sure, and it seemed the rest of the facility was none the better. Wheatley wondered how long it had been, and though he probably could have figured it out, this new interface wasn’t exactly what he would have considered user friendly.

Come to think of it, he could figure out a few things at once by going through the recordings. For one, he could figure out what Her old room looked like and what She had done about this pesky little button. Or more interestingly, how her whole room got destroyed just from being shut down, that was always a mystery there.

All he could find were tapes, and they didn’t seem too promising. Just video feeds of the room, none of which showed if the button was there at all or what she had done with it. Maybe skipping around a bit would work, perhaps it would show something. Nothing so far…

Wait a minute now, here were the tapes of when She was killed. Yes, this was definitely the same test subject all right. Silent as always, she was. Maybe her brain damage was pre-existing.

Well this was concerning. Neither neurotoxin nor the built in rocket turret defense station was enough to even faze her. All that nameless lunatic needed were a couple of seemingly easy portals and in less than the required six minutes She was dead.

If that silent test subject was still alive, she could find any flaw in his lair design and it’d be bye bye Wheatley.

First immediate order of business, no portal surfaces anywhere in the lair. That shouldn’t be too hard, just meant he would have to move some panels around. There, piece of cake, only a few panels detached and falling off. That was probably normal.

“Right, no portal surfaces anywhere. Check that off the list. Ding! Next we can- OW! Great, another panel just went and fell right out of the ceiling. Hit me right in the… to be honest I’m not sure what this part of me even is. Doesn’t really look like it does anything useful. Tell you what, how about I take this part off, don’t really need it do we? Won’t be hurting anymore, I imagine. Here we go, unscrewing… and done!”

The offending plate came off of his right side, pulling down several attached cables right out of their sockets, leaving them to dangle around and coil around the floor like snakes. Snakes that occasionally gave out electrical sparks. That probably existed somewhere in nature. Electric snakes. Maybe unicrons ate them. Wheatley made a mental note to look that up, right after learning how to play cards.

“OK, wow that was actually pretty painful. Guess they don’t simulate any anaesthetic in this thing. Aaand now the lights are flickering on and off. Those are the lights, right? The flashlight doesn’t seem to be helping, so maybe I killed that too. That’s probably normal. Happens sometimes. That’ll probably fix itself.”

In the meantime, he at least had time to see what else was in Her old archives. Maybe there was a guide to fixing whatever was going on. Nope, nothing there. He did find an old security protocol system. Aperture Employee Guardian and Intrusion System, it was called. Interesting, that could help make sure she never got anywhere near his lair. Wait, no, that system was shut down locally. Before She went back online even. Odd, not clear who did that. What else was there… Oh, hang on a minute. The Cooperative Testing Initiative. That sounded useful. Wheatley kept reading.

Yes, these two little bots seemed to be the fix for everything. As soon as he could he had one of each type assembled and sent straight up to his lair.

“Hello! Right, so I understand you guys are built for testing, and what have you. So, I have selected you two to be my next testers. I need a few favors from you two though. See those cables down there? The ones that are kind of sparking there a bit? Those? Yeah, ever since I unhooked those, the lights have been flickering on and off.”

Blue looked at Orange, somewhat confused.

“You guys don’t see it? Wait, it just happened again real quick right there.”

Orange shook its head.

“So that might just be my optic sputtering out then. Yeah, that’s not great. Either way, I need you guys to try and get those back into me so I can see again. Now you might be wondering why I can’t just use those grabbers of mine and do it myself? Turns out, if I ever try to fix myself without someone else to help out, I’ll die. So you guys will have to do it for me.”

They both suddenly appeared nervous, and Blue slowly approached the bundle of wires. They sent out a spark and they both flinched. Upon reaching the wire, Blue picked up the first one, which went back in without a hitch. The second one was still going through the exterior plate that Wheatley had just unscrewed off. Pulling it as hard as possible didn’t work. Orange, annoyed, went up and pushed Blue out of the way, then slowly pulled out the cable and stuck it back in. By now the flickering was still happening, but only in randomly appearing colors.

“Great! OK now just one more to go! Home stretch!”

Orange was ready to pick up the last cable, but Blue, unrelenting, snatched it out of Orange’s grasp, and emphatically plugged it in. And then the flickering stopped.

“You did it! Bingo! Oh, man alive, that’s much better. Aaand now it seems you guys are knocking each other’s heads out of their… socket, things, whatever they’re called. Not really getting anything productive out of that, besides I kinda need you guys for something else.”

Neither Blue nor Orange were hearing it though. Once they had decided to play the classic game of Knock the Other Bot’s Head Off, there was little that could stop the competition. For personality constructs designed to get along, they did this a lot.

“Ahem, knock knock, anybody there?!”

It was getting heated. Now Blue was running around with Orange’s head, Orange’s body trying to chase after it but only managing to flail around miserably due to lack of eyes.

“ENOUGH!”

Wheatley hadn’t had an outburst like that in a while. It was a little easier when his only test subject and her potato weren’t driving him up the wall smashing his monitors and not giving him the relief when he wanted it. But the lack of test solution euphoria was starting to make its presence known once more, and it made him impatient as ever. Both bots stopped to look over, then Orange snatched its head and put it back on, glancing angrily at Blue.

“You know, there are bots in orphanages that don't even have heads to steal. Maybe think about how lucky you two are and stop fiddling around like that, yeah?”

They both looked at each other, shrugged the mechanical equivalent of their shoulders and gave each other a quick hug. Wheatley didn’t understand how they could forgive each other so quickly, but he wasn't about to object.

“Right, so, what I need you guys to do is see if we can find any neurotoxin reserves. Ever since I hacked the main factory, genius, I know; we haven’t had any neurotoxin to dispense. So I’m building you a testing course that should lead to where the neurotoxin facility was to see if you can find any clues. Alright, Go team!”

Several panels cleared out of the way to reveal two elevators facing each other, one blue and one orange. The bots looked at each other before taking off and heading to the disassembly machines. In less than a minute they had reached the first test, a simple introductory course with a laser and a redirection cube. And no test of Wheatley’s would be complete without his signature, the word TEST written in lights on the wall.

These two were smart enough to have figured out how to solve it rather quickly, and Wheatley immediately felt the rush of solution euphoria. Whether it was the amount of time since he had last felt it or because he was testing new subjects, this felt much better than the last few tests he had gotten his other subject to try. Now he could focus on the text task, seeing if there was a trap he could build, just in case those two weren’t dead. Getting rid of the button would have to wait. Maybe if they found some turrets or explosives to keep anyone from reaching it, that could work as a solution. For a little while at least.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Having cleared out all the tables, chairs, and any other debris lying around in what was once an office, Chell could finally get through to the other side and out the door. And the potato on her gun had done a great job at keeping her company.

“Oh good, now we can get going again. Maybe we can find a way out of here.”

Chell picked up the portal gun and made her way out of the office. To her disappointment, the walkway just led down to the entryway to another test.

“Great, it looks like we’ll need to keep testing a little while longer. And I’m not sure we have that much more time left. Look on the bright side though. Maybe we’ll get to see more of that moron’s inventions. Maybe he’s gotten so desperate he’ll have tried to fuse a turret with a redirection cube and give it laser eyes.”

Chell couldn’t help but smile a bit at that. She resented that Wheatley had become like this, and somewhat missed him in a way, but it was nice to occasionally poke fun at his less than amazing intelligence.

“If a defective turret and a pile of trash had a baby, he would make an excellent pet for that baby.”

Chell’s smile grew slightly bigger and she chuckled silently. It was kind of nice to hear Her jokes while not also being the recipient. The classic insults thrown her way, that she was fat, adopted, unlikeable; those didn’t work on her at all. But they were at least well crafted, almost stand-up quality, though she never would have admitted that. Despite being a murderous former supercomputer with zero conscience up until this point, she did have a bit of a knack for humor. Chell would at least miss that when she left this place.

This was the end of the walkway, and Chell jumped down; her testing break was over. It was going to get tough before she finally did make it out of here.

#portal #portal 2 #portal secret santa #@yutaki #38's fics #portal stories mel #blue sky portal #fanfic #portal 2 fanfic

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fortune-fool02 · 4 years ago

Text

New World

Pillarman Jonathan Joestar x Robert E.O Speedwagon

Pillarman AU

Part two of Stone Star

As many of you wanted to see more of this AU, I hope this will please you all.

Please enjoy.

***

The carriage rattled lightly as it moved along the road, the tapping of horse hooves against the ground could be heard among the rattling of the carriage. The last few glimpses of the sunlight could be seen over the horizon before fading under the line, vanishing entirely and coaxing the darkness to spread its wings and glide over the sky, leaving behind the inky mix of black and blue and even flicking specks of silver, glimmering stars.

Coffee brown eyes watched the setting sun before shifting up to the sky, a light smile tugging the thug's lips, he had always liked this moment where the day would melt into night, it held a beauty that softened the world to him. Making it seem less harsh, less violent, less cruel. It fluttered hope within him, something that he tried so hard to clutch onto each and every day.

Two days had passed since Speedwagon's return to London and it was certainly a trip that was more than he believed. He still had some things to tend to and sort out but aside from that, he was free to fulfil his promise to the strange friend he had made during his trip. Joestar, or Jonathan as they had decided to go with, was waiting patiently at his house while Speedwagon had gone out to get some food for the next few days. The biggest issue they truly had was trying to find clothes that would fit him, as it was not easy to find clothes made for someone who stood around seven foot tall and built like a Greek God. It was something they were able to sort out though after a bit of time, and Jonathan was a bit surprised at how much was covered. Speedwagon had to give him a quick run-through of the rules about appropriateness of appearance and how one can't wear a loincloth with a bit of material around the shoulders. Jonathan listened and nodded, understanding him and waiting to be told what else to avoid.

Another important one was feeding. Jonathan told Speedwagon how his kind would feed by absorbing either living creatures or vampires, that was something that did unsettle him but the Pillarman reassured Speedwagon he would not harm him, giving some relief to that. The only thing Speedwagon could think of was taking Jonathan out at night towards the fields outside of London and letting him find some livestock or something. Everything was still in construction of a plan but they were working on it.

Climbing out of the carriage, Speedwagon grabbed the bags he bought and thanked the driver before paying and heading off to his house. It wasn't much, a small house tucked in the corner of a street, but it was home. He entered the house and looked around, the windows had been reinforced with thicker cloth for curtains to keep as much sunlight out during the day as possible for Jonathan's protection. The place was lit up by the fire though, giving light and warmth to the small house. The large built man was sitting in front of the fire, his attention consumed by a book in his hands, sapphire blue eyes darting over the lines, taking in as much information as he possibly could. By the look of the front cover, it seemed to be a book about transport such as trains, Jonathan seemed completely fascinated by it all. A small stack of the books Speedwagon had sat beside him, protected from the fire to keep them safe but within easy reach of the Pillarman. It was, in a sense of way, adorable to see this large man huddled, reading books eagerly like a young child.

"Jonathan, I'm back." The sound of Speedwagon's voice pulled Jonathan from his books, a smile already lifting his lips as he looked.

"Welcome back, Speedwagon." He greeted, setting the book aside and standing up to greet the blonde thug. He followed Speedwagon into the kitchen area as he began to put the food away, which Jonathan helped with. Speedwagon thanked him as they put everything away. Jonathan was never asked to do anything, if something needed to be done then he would do it. It was a bit surprising for Speedwagon to have returned earlier that day to see the entire house had been cleaned and organised, something he hadn't gotten around to doing. Plus, it was nice to have someone new to talk to, someone who didn't judge his life nor his past.

"Are we going to be continuing those lessons again today?" The dark blue haired man questioned, curious about it. He was referring to Speedwagon's lessons of being and acting more human, as well as a few illegal things. Like stealing, nothing like murder. His size held no issue when it came to pick-pocketing, his movements were faster and far lighter to snatch something without someone noticing. After all, he had done it to Speedwagon a small handful of times, surprising the man himself with this.

"Sure, if you want to." Speedwagon smiled at this, pleased that Jonathan was so eager and excited to learn things like that.

As promised, once everything was packed away and organised, the two headed outside as the sun had set and the night dominated the sky. Though there were not too many people outside, it gave them practice. Speedwagon stood to the side, a cigarette in hand as he peered from under his hat, watching Jonathan examine the collection of people still wandering about, determining the best target. The large built man passed a smaller male, his hands in his pockets but as they passed one another, a tiny vine slipped out of his pocket, jumped into his and emerged with a small coin purse then returned to Jonathan, the man oblivious to this.

Speedwagon couldn't stop smiling at this, a sense of pride at Jonathan's developing skills. When he returned to the blonde thug, he handed Speedwagon the coin purse.

"What? You nicked it, it's yours." Speedwagon said, confused at why Jonathan was giving it to him. Jonathan tilted his head lightly.

"Money means nothing to me. I want you to have it. Please." The softness in his eyes mirrored his voice, a kindness that was seemingly impossible for his kin but yet presented itself in him. Speedwagon shared that smile and took the coin purse.

"Cheers. You're gettin' very good at this, JoJo." The pair started walking as he spoke, the last part catching Jonathan by surprise.

"JoJo?" Speedwagon looked back,

"Yeah. Jonathan. Joestar. Thought it'd be a nickname. You don't like it?" The Pillarman stood there for a moment, the smile growing more on his lips.

"I love it."

#jonathan joestar #robert edward o speedwagon #speedwagon #jojo bizarre adventure #jojo #jjba #jonathan joestar x speedwagon #reo speedwagon #robert e o speedwagon #speedwagon x jonathan #jonawagon #speedjona #pillarman au #pillarman jonathan #phantom blood #jojo phantom blood

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welllpthisishappening · 4 years ago

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Welllp These Are Books: the March 2021 Edition

There aren’t even any pictures! Except in that one book where there were pictures! It was weird! This was a weird book month! Back at it again with thoughts and opinions about a whole mess of books that no one explicitly asked for, but I’ve got lots of thoughts and opinions and they only count if I share them on the internet. Seriously, someone let me go to a baseball game soon. Obligatory warning for spoilers and vaguely unhinged rants under the cut. As always, feel free to come tell me what else I should be reading at literally any time ever.

Best Book of the Month Honors Goes to This Book, Even Though They Called It Halftime at a Hockey Game. A Hockey Game!

The Dating Plan by Sara Desai

Daisy Patel is a software engineer who understands lists and logic better than bosses and boyfriends. With her life all planned out, and no interest in love, the one thing she can't give her family is the marriage they expect. Left with few options, she asks her childhood crush to be her decoy fiancé. Liam Murphy is a venture capitalist with something to prove. When he learns that his inheritance is contingent on being married, he realizes his best friend's little sister has the perfect solution to his problem. A marriage of convenience will get Daisy's matchmaking relatives off her back and fulfill the terms of his late grandfather's will. If only he hadn’t broken her tender teenage heart nine years ago… Sparks fly when Daisy and Liam go on a series of dates to legitimize their fake relationship. Too late, they realize that very little is convenient about their arrangement. History and chemistry aren't about to follow the rules of this engagement.

— Ok, it’s important to know that I really did love this book. It hit all my trope-wants. Childhood friends, incredibly stupid misunderstandings, pining, seriously God the pining, fake engagement, BANTER. It was all going great. I was occasionally swooning. They kept making out! And then! THEN. They went to a hockey game. On a date. A fake date. Cool, cool, cool. All tropes, all the time right? Not so fast, internet! Because these self-proclaimed Sharks SUPER FANS referred to intermission as “halftime was coming up.” Halftime! At a hockey game! That’s—that’s not how hockey works! If this hadn’t been “traditionally” published, I probably could have let it slide. But that was not the case. This was a “real” book with, I can only assume, real editors. All of whom saw the words halftime and hockey near each other and we’re like YEAH, PRINT THAT SHIT. I read that at nearly one in the morning and seriously considered waking Justin up to be like CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS IS IN A REAL BOOK? Anyway, it was still real cute. Everyone lived happily ever after. It made want to eat samosas.

This Book Had Pictures, It Was Weird

Clean Sweep by Ilona Andrews

On the outside, Dina Demille is the epitome of normal. She runs a quaint Victorian Bed and Breakfast in a small Texas town, owns a Shih Tzu named Beast, and is a perfect neighbor, whose biggest problem should be what to serve her guests for breakfast. But Dina is...different: Her broom is a deadly weapon; her Inn is magic and thinks for itself. Meant to be a lodging for otherworldly visitors, the only permanent guest is a retired Galactic aristocrat who can’t leave the grounds because she’s responsible for the deaths of millions and someone might shoot her on sight. Under the circumstances, "normal" is a bit of a stretch for Dina.

And now, something with wicked claws and deepwater teeth has begun to hunt at night...Feeling responsible for her neighbors, Dina decides to get involved. Before long, she has to juggle dealing with the annoyingly attractive, ex-military, new neighbor, Sean Evans—an alpha-strain werewolf—and the equally arresting cosmic vampire soldier, Arland, while trying to keep her inn and its guests safe. But the enemy she’s facing is unlike anything she’s ever encountered before. It’s smart, vicious, and lethal, and putting herself between this creature and her neighbors might just cost her everything.

— So, Ilona Andrews is a name that keeps coming up because when I borrow a book from the library I have to go through Kindle and Amazon is like...here are some other absurd fantasy romances you’d enjoy. Also, one of her other series had been recc’ed to me. Only problem? The first book in that series is the only book in that series not available at my library. So, I was like, ok, I’ll start this one instead. It was...weird. Honestly, it felt like I’d been dropped in the middle of the story and the narrator was like, well why don’t you already know what’s going on? In theory the world building was cool. (I was not expecting alien werewolves, lemme tell you that!) But also it all felt very rushed and the end just sorta happened.

In Which I Continue to Love “Same Verse” Books & No One Else Had Sex in the Port Jeff High School Dugout. For Which I Was Grateful

Love Her or Lose Her by Tessa Bailey

Rosie and Dominic Vega are the perfect couple: high school sweethearts, best friends, madly in love. Well, they used to be anyway. Now Rosie’s lucky to get a caveman grunt from the ex-soldier every time she walks in the door. Dom is faithful and a great provider, but the man she fell in love with ten years ago is nowhere to be found. When her girlfriends encourage Rosie to demand more out of life and pursue her dream of opening a restaurant, she decides to demand more out of love, too. Three words: marriage boot camp.

Never in a million years did Rosie believe her stoic, too-manly-to-emote husband would actually agree to relationship rehab with a weed-smoking hippie. Dom talking about feelings? Sitting on pillows? Communing with nature? Learning love languages? Nope. But to her surprise, he’s all in, and it forces her to admit her own role in their cracked foundation. As they complete one ridiculous—yet surprisingly helpful—assignment after another, their remodeled relationship gets stronger than ever. Except just as they’re getting back on track, Rosie discovers Dom has a secret... and it could demolish everything.

— Listen, one of my absolutely favorite tropes that I do not think gets enough love in the world is COMMITTED LONG-LASTING RELATIONSHIPS. And, like, ok, sure the premise of this was that they were separating in that long-lasting relationship. But no one really believed that, did they? Rosie and Dominic were real cute and their banter was good and I wasn’t totally skeeved out when they literally fucked on the kitchen floor. So, I think that’s saying something. Also, also! I seriously appreciated the realism of this book because no one on Long Island would ever call Manhattan Manhattan. It’s the city. Every other borough gets a name, but Manhattan is just the city and I nearly cheered when they said that. But also, no one’s taking a cab from Port Jeff to the Meatpacking District. You know what that would cost? God.

Tools of Engagement by Tessa Bailey

Hair, makeup, clothing, decor... everything in Bethany Castle's world is organized, planned, and styled to perfection. Which is why the homes she designs for her family's real estate business are the most coveted in town. The only thing not perfect? Her track record with men. She's on a dating hiatus and after helping her friends achieve their dreams, Bethany finally has time to focus on her own: flip a house, from framework to furnishings, all by herself. Except her older brother runs the company and refuses to take her seriously.

When a television producer gets wind of the Castle sibling rivalry, they’re invited on Flip Off, a competition to see who can do the best renovation. Bethany wants bragging rights, but she needs a crew and the only member of her brother's construction team willing to jump ship is Wes Daniels, the new guy in town. His Texas drawl and handsome face got under Bethany's skin on day one, and the last thing she needs is some cocky young cowboy in her way.

As the race to renovate heats up, Wes and Bethany are forced into close quarters, trading barbs and biting banter as they remodel the ugliest house on the block. It's a labor of love, hate, and everything in between, and soon sparks are flying. But Bethany's perfectly structured life is one kiss away from going up in smoke and she knows falling for a guy like Wes would be a flipping disaster.

— It should first be noted that in the three books of this series, I could not and cannot understand why Bethany’s brother was such a monumental dick. He was just...he was a dick. His marriage was awful. How long was his wife pregnant without him knowing???? I digress. This continued to be cute, Bethany was a legit heroine as far as those rom-com things go, Wes was very Texas and that got a little over the top, but they had sex in a bed like normal people so that helped. Oh, except that one time on the construction site. Whatever, this book was cute. This whole series was cute, really, and I was a big fan of the happy little wrap-everything-up with a bow ending.

Romance That Happens In Point Two Seconds Is...Unbelievable

Too Hot to Handle by Tessa Bailey

The road trip was definitely a bad idea. Having already flambéed her culinary career beyond recognition, Rita Clarkson is now stranded in God-Knows-Where, New Mexico, with a busted-ass car and her three temperamental siblings, who she hasn't seen in years. When rescue shows up---six-feet-plus of hot, charming sex on a motorcycle---Rita's pretty certain she's gone from the frying pan right into the fire . . . Jasper Ellis has a bad boy reputation in this town, and he loathes it. The moment he sees Rita, though, Jasper knows he's about to be sorely tempted. There's something real between them. Something raw. And Jasper has only a few days to show Rita that he isn't just for tonight---he's forever.

— For as much as I loved the Port Jeff series by my new pal Tessa, this one was...oof. Too much, guys. Too much. Fucking in trucks. Fucking in back offices. The whole book lasted, like, three days. And keep in mind this is coming from someone who has written like two million words about Killian Jones, self-loathing champ 250 years running, but Jasper’s self-loathing was a little over the top. Like, let’s not objectify dudes, but also...I don’t know guys. Maybe the other books in the series are better? I was mostly just annoyed by Rita.

What the Hell Happened at the End of This Book?? Seriously, I Have No Idea

The Queen’s Assassin by Melissa de la Cruz

Caledon Holt is the kingdom's deadliest weapon. No one alive can best him in speed, strength, or brains, which is why he's the Hearthstone Guild's most dangerous member. Cal is also the Queen's Assassin, bound to her by magic and unable to leave her service until the task she's set for him is fulfilled. Shadow of the Honey Glade has been training all her life to join the Guild, hoping that one day she'll become an assassin as feared and revered as Cal. But Shadow's mother and aunts expect her to serve the crown as a lady of the Renovian Court. When a surprise attack brings Shadow and Cal together, they're forced to team up as assassin and apprentice. Even though Shadow's life belongs to the court and Cal's belongs to the queen, they cannot deny their attraction to each other. But now, with war on the horizon and true love at risk, Shadow and Cal will uncover a shocking web of lies that will change their paths forever.

—WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED AT THE END OF THIS BOOK??? I figured out the so-called twist like...two chapters in. Fine, ok, whatever. It’s YA, this is not rocket science and I was interested enough in Cale and Shadow to see how it all played out. Only it didn’t really play out! Because the whole end was just this like four chapter retcon of basically EVERYTHING ELSE THAT HAPPENED and I genuinely could not believe it was happening. It didn’t make sense?!? Like with the plot? Also, spoiler, good thing Shadow and the other king haven’t consummated their marriage yet since she and Cale totally fucked after her wedding? What is YA? Why is Amazon telling me this is a Teacher’s Pick? Why hasn’t my hold come through on the sequel yet so I know what happens next?

Low-Stakes Romance Was Real Boring and All The People Were Boring In It

The Ten Rules for Faking It by Sophie Sullivan

As birthdays go, this year’s for radio producer Everly Dean hit rock-bottom. Worse than the “tonsillectomy birthday.” Worse than the birthday her parents decided to split (the first time). But catching your boyfriend cheating on you with his assistant? Even clichés sting. But this is Everly’s year! She won’t let her anxiety hold her back. She’ll pitch her podcast idea to her boss. There’s just one problem. Her boss, Chris, is very cute. (Of course). Also, he's extremely distant (which means he hates her, right? Or is that the anxiety talking)? And, Stacey the DJ didn’t mute the mic during Everly’s rant about Simon the Snake (syn: Cheating Ex). That’s three problems. Suddenly, people are lining up to date her, Bachelorette-style, fans are voting (Reminder: never leave house again), and her interest in Chris might be a two-way street. It’s a lot for a woman who could gold medal in people-avoidance. She’s going to have to fake it ‘till she makes it to get through all of this. Perhaps she’ll make a list: The Ten Rules for Faking It.

— I am a broken record. Shouting. From the highest hilltop. Just because you think someone is cute when you’re technically not supposed to be dating them does not mean you get to be anything less than nice around them! It’s not cute! And part two, which often goes with part one: rom com dudes have GOT to stop lying or hiding or otherwise avoiding telling people who they really are. It’s a convoluted, passably lazy way of writing and dropping a third-act bomb on the story. Don’t do it. Stop doing it. We’ve moved past the need for hidden identities. Unless he’s, like, a spy or something. Um...this was a weird book. I know Everly had anxiety and that became a PLOT POINT, patent pending, but she was also not super relatable? Which is crazy considering my very real, rather undiagnosed anxiety. Chris was boring. The whole plot, as this title suggests, was very low stakes and no one actually seemed to remember that their jobs were ever on the line? Did Everly and Chris have a conversation before they decided they liked each other? Who can say, really.

Shipped by Angie Hockman

Between taking night classes for her MBA and her demanding day job at a cruise line, marketing manager Henley Evans barely has time for herself, let alone family, friends, or dating. But when she’s shortlisted for the promotion of her dreams, all her sacrifices finally seem worth it. The only problem? Graeme Crawford-Collins, the remote social media manager and the bane of her existence, is also up for the position. Although they’ve never met in person, their epic email battles are the stuff of office legend. Their boss tasks each of them with drafting a proposal on how to boost bookings in the Galápagos—best proposal wins the promotion. There’s just one catch: they have to go on a company cruise to the Galápagos Islands...together. But when the two meet on the ship, Henley is shocked to discover that the real Graeme is nothing like she imagined. As they explore the Islands together, she soon finds the line between loathing and liking thinner than a postcard. With her career dreams in her sights and a growing attraction to the competition, Henley begins questioning her life choices. Because what’s the point of working all the time if you never actually live?

— YOU NEED TO HAVE A CONVERSATION WITH SOMEONE TO DECIDE YOU LIKE THEM. AUTHORS REALLY REALLY NEED TO LEARN HOW TO BUILD ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS. IF THEY ONLY LIKE EACH OTHER BECAUSE THEY KISS WELL IT’S NOT A GOOD RELATIONSHIP. AND THIS IS COMING FROM ME. Back at it again with the annoying so-called heroine who was just...occasionally real mean to Graem for no reason at all? Also her name was Henley. Which is not a great reason to dislike her, but here we are.

Apparently I Read These Books Out Of Order. Who Knew?

Pride, Prejudice and Other Flavors by Sonali Dev

It is a truth universally acknowledged that only in an overachieving Indian American family can a genius daughter be considered a black sheep.

Dr. Trisha Raje is San Francisco’s most acclaimed neurosurgeon. But that’s not enough for the Rajes, her influential immigrant family who’s achieved power by making its own non-negotiable rules:

· Never trust an outsider

· Never do anything to jeopardize your brother’s political aspirations

· And never, ever, defy your family

Trisha is guilty of breaking all three rules. But now she has a chance to redeem herself. So long as she doesn’t repeat old mistakes.

Up-and-coming chef DJ Caine has known people like Trisha before, people who judge him by his rough beginnings and place pedigree above character. He needs the lucrative job the Rajes offer, but he values his pride too much to indulge Trisha’s arrogance. And then he discovers that she’s the only surgeon who can save his sister’s life.

As the two clash, their assumptions crumble like the spun sugar on one of DJ’s stunning desserts. But before a future can be savored there’s a past to be reckoned with...

A family trying to build home in a new land.

A man who has never felt at home anywhere.

And a choice to be made between the two.

— Surprise, apparently this was the first book in the series. I did not know. It didn’t affect my enjoyment of the Persuasion version in this same ‘verse, which is also strange because I liked the Persuasion one way better. There was a lot of medical in this. And not super uplifting medical, either. This was like...oh the Jane character (I guess???) has cancer and either she’s going to go blind after having a surgery (also she was an artist, so you see how this was a problem) or she’s just going to decide to die. Wait, what? That came out of left field, really. Also DJ and Trisha were not nice to each other. Like, I know this is Pride and Prejudice so there has to be some of that at the start, but it wasn’t like Trisha ever really went through the Darcy-required time at Pemberly. She just decided she liked DJ and told him and it was as awkward as Jane Austen intended it, but then we got more medical and everything was cool. It felt very rushed and shoehorned into a modern setting and the Persuasion one was better. You can’t have Darcy’s growth without the Pemberly stuff. You just can’t.

In Which I Didn’t Like a Nickname??? Is the World Ending??

Crazy Stupid Bromance by Lyssa Kay Adams

Alexis Carlisle and her cat café, ToeBeans, have shot to fame after she came forward as a victim of a celebrity chef’s sexual harassment. When a new customer approaches to confide in her, the last thing Alexis expects is for the woman to claim they’re sisters. Unsure what to do, Alexis turns to the only man she trusts—her best friend, Noah Logan. Computer genius Noah left his rebellious teenage hacker past behind to become a computer security expert. Now he only uses his old skills for the right cause. But Noah’s got a secret: He’s madly in love with Alexis. When she asks for his help, he wonders if the timing will ever be right to confess his crush. Noah’s pals in The Bromance Book Club are more than willing to share their beloved “manuals” to help him go from bud to boyfriend. But he must decide if telling the truth is worth risking the best friendship he’s ever had.

— If Noah was going to call her Lexa, then her name should have been Alexa and not Alexis. That’s it and that’s all. Also, the story was n u t s. Estranged dads and kidney failure and they got together so fast in this book. Which usually is cool by me, but I really could not get over the nickname and the estranged family was mean to Alexis. Lexa. HER NAME SHOULD HAVE BEEN ALEXA, IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE. Also Noah was a former hacker? The estranged family accused him corporate espionage or something? A lot happened in this book, guys. Her name should have been Alexa.

Dumb Brother Was Dumb™ Everyone Else Was Real Cute

The Off Limits Rule by Sarah Adams

I have found rock bottom. It's here, moving in with my older brother because I'm too broke to afford to live on my own. It's okay though, because we've always been close and I think I'm going to have fun living with him again.   That is until I meet Cooper...   Turns out, my brother has very strong opinions on the idea of me dating his best friend and is dead set against it. According to him, Cooper is everything I should stay away from: flirtatious, adventurous, non-committal, and freaking hot. (I added that last part because I feel like you need the whole picture.) My brother is right--I should stay away from Cooper James and his pretty blue eyes. He's the opposite of what I need right now.   Nah--who am I kidding? I'm going for it.

— This was cute, mostly mindless fluff. Hit some trope high points, including, obviously, best friends sister. Only the brother in question was a Neanderthal and I really thought people were going to make out more while said brother was on his business trip. I got it for free off Amazon. Which I think should explain a lot. Like, story-wise. Sorry, free Amazon books. Don’t be insulted.

Prose, Prose, Prose, Please Someone Have a Conversation

Trick by Natalia Jaster

In the Kingdom of Spring, Poet is renowned. He's young and pretty, a lover of men and women. He performs for the court, kisses like a scoundrel, and mocks with a silver tongue. Yet allow him this: It's only the most cunning and manipulative soul who can play the fool. For beyond the castle walls, Poet guards a secret. One the Crown would shackle him for. One that he'll risk everything to protect. Alas, it will take more than clever words to deceive Princess Briar. Convinced that he's juggling lies as well as verse, this righteous nuisance of a girl is determined to expose him. But not all falsehoods are fiendish. Poet's secret is delicate, binding the jester and princess in an unlikely alliance—and kindling a breathless attraction, as alluring as it is forbidden.

— The purplest of prose. Mauve prose. Royal purple prose. Lavender prose. There was so much writing here. So much. Too much, some might say. I say. Actually. If we want to get specific. And that was a shame, really, because when Briar and Poet actually had a conversation, they were interesting to read about. Also, the world building here? Yeeeesh. The so-called, wait for it, FOOL TRADE played a prominent role and that was...super cringe. Super Cringe. That being said, I asked Justin what I should read next and he thought it was funny that a book was just called...

Dare by Natalia Jaster

In the Kingdom of Summer, they say she's wild. Locked in a cage by the sea, Flare dreams of escape. She dreams of a lost world, known only in legends. The island is calling to her. And she won't let anyone keep her from it. Especially not him. They say he's cruel. Jeryn has crossed the ocean for the Trade, to bargain for those fierce, imprisoned creatures that make his skin crawl. By law, they're subjects meant for experimentation. And easy to despise. One girl in particular. But on the cusp of transport, the tide rages. That hidden island awaits. Stranded, the prince and prisoner must fight to survive. In a mysterious rainforest, they must band together...if they don't slay one another first. Or become something more to each other. Something just as dangerous.

— This was Justin’s fault. He could not believe this book was just called Dare. It should have been called “We’re going to weirdly force what is basically slavery into this story and then a prince is going to fall in love with an escaped slave and we’re also going to call that ROMANCE.” y i k e s. Remember that one story that took place over three days? This was the complete opposite. Years! They were shipwrecked for years! They got saved, spoilers, the DAY they started having sex. What are the odds, right?? And then MORE YEARS passed. Multiple years! Five years! They couldn’t actually be together because of that aforementioned slave trade. What the shit, man? Natalia, ya gotta be kidding me with this. The internet claimed Trick was good and a solid follow to reading ACOTAR and that there was this whole verse and it was also good. The internet was wrong.

Nothing Happened, Everything Happened, I...Hated It

Graceling by Kristin Cashore

Kristin Cashore’s bestselling, award-winning fantasy Graceling tells the story of the vulnerable-yet-strong Katsa, a smart, beautiful teenager who lives in a world where selected people are given a Grace, a special talent that can be anything from dancing to swimming. Katsa’s is killing. As the king’s niece, she is forced to use her extreme skills as his thug. Along the way, Katsa must learn to decipher the true nature of her Grace… and how to put it to good use. A thrilling, action-packed fantasy adventure (and steamy romance!) that will resonate deeply with adolescents trying to find their way in the world.

— I can’t believe this was a book. Katsa was so annoying! Like, listen, I know her life was sad. And she was a pawn being used against her will. Blah, blah, blah. Whatever. The tone of the whole book was so strangely formal and Poe was strangely in love with Katsa? Who obviously didn’t want to get married because she was WOMAN HEAR ME ROAR. Or kill people, as the case may be. Only she wanted to make out with Poe? Only ONLY they didn’t even really get together at the end? I could not believe the end of this book. I nearly threw my Kindle across the room. Once again, no apologies for spoilers because do not read this book, but HE WAS BLIND? Katsa had to leave him behind to save his cousin and he just ENDED UP BEING BLIND? AND THEY NEVER GOT TOGETHER REALLY?? What the fuck? Seriously. Steamy romance, my ass. Nothing happened. The villain got defeated in point two seconds. There are other books in this universe? No, thanks.

#book recommendations #book rec #fantasy recommendations #book recs #laura reads books #this was longer than i realized it was going to be #documentation of a very weird book month #but we're almost back on track now because i am LOVING a darker shade of magic #welllp these are books

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nothing-but-dreamy · 4 years ago

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TRUE COLORS ~ Ch. 6

Wanna start? Masterlist

Pairing: DBH!Connor x OC!Maya

Words: 2.193 (yes, it's a bit longer but I really love this chapter and didn't want to cut it somwhere)

Warning: some cursing;

Connor stayed the rest of the evening and the whole night with Maya. And as she awoke the next morning, she was surprised and very happy to see that Connor was still there. As Maya walked into the living room, she saw Connor staying in front of the terrarium, watching her little friend.

"Haven't you met Trevor before?", Maya asked and joined Connor.

"You named your gecko Trevor?", he asked, visibly amused.

"Sure. It isn't that he would care anyway. I mean, it's a gecko. I don’t think he understands one single word I’m telling him. Maybe it’s better this way.", she answered with a wink. Connor smiled but it faltered a bit.

"Hank had called me. Maybe we have a lead for our case."

"Sounds good. When do you have to leave?"

"He will be here in five minutes."

"Oh, then it's good I woke up or you would have sneaked out again, huh?", Maya joked but she saw that Connor didn't get it. He blinked with his eyes and tilted his head. Then, his expression changed as he searched for the right words.

"Thank you, again. I… I really appreciate what you do for me."

"I'm here for you whenever you need me, Connor.", Maya said honestly and Connor nodded before he left to meet Hank on the street.

"Connor, wait!", Maya called out and the android stopped. She ran towards him, got on her tiptoes and flung her arms around his neck.

"Please, be careful, okay? Don’t get shot again.", Maya said, softly smiling and he nodded not knowing what the right reaction would be. This much affection towards him confused him but in a nice way.

***

"Another night spent with Maya, huh?", Hank asked and watched the android closely as he entered the car.

"Yes, it was helpful. Where are we going?", Connor asked as the lieutenant hit the road.

"We have to meet someone."

Forty minutes and a quick stop at the CyberLife Tower later, Hank parked his car in front of an abstract and cubical building. As Hank's phone rang, he left the car to answer it. Connor looked one last time over the area before he left the car as well to join Hank who walked up and down.

"Is everything okay, Lieutenant?", Connor asked as he closed up to his partner.

"Chris was on patrol last night. He got attacked by a bunch of deviants but he got saved by Markus himself."

"Is Chris okay?"

"Yeah, he is under shock but he is okay. These are crazy times at the moment.", Hank said and walked to the front door of the building.

"I have a bad feeling, Lieutenant."

"Bad feeling, huh? Have you checked your program? It might be a glitch.", Hank teased but Connor frowned. After everything that had happened the last few days, Connor was insecure if something might be really wrong with him or his program.

[X] shoot

[O] spare

Connor pointed Kamski's gun at the head of the kneeling Chloe. He looked her straight in the eyes. Her LED was spinning blue. She wasn't concerned. She was a machine and she just watched him patiently. But Connor was disturbed. His LED was spinning yellow as his system was working. There was a clash between his instructions to get information for his mission and … something else.

… I'm convinced you will be able to find a way to solve this case without killing someone. There is always an alternative. To spare someone's life is always better…

Maya's soft voice echoed through his mind and reminded him of everything she had tried to teach him the first night. Suddenly, the eyes he looked into weren't the eyes of Chloe anymore, instead he saw Maya's bright eyes and her smile.

The LED was moving erratic red as he acted against his instructions: Connor pulled the gun away from the kneeling android. Kamski stepped around Connor and watched him.

"Fascinating. CyberLife's last chance to save humanity is itself a deviant."

"I- I'm not a deviant."

"You spared its life rather than to accomplish your mission. You saw a living being in this android. You showed empathy."

"Okay, that's enough. We're leaving.", Hank said and pushed Connor away from the eccentric scientist. Connor was almost out of the room as Kamski spoke up.

"By the way, I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You might never know.", Kamski said and Connor left the villa with a troubled mind. He passed Hank who followed slowly behind Connor.

"You said you would do everything to accomplish your mission."

"I- I know…", Connor stammered.

"Why haven't you shot?"

"I don't know, okay? I just saw Maya's eyes and I couldn't-"

"Maya?"

"Th...the girls eyes, I meant."

"But you said Maya. You like her a lot, don't you? Well, obviously, she has a good effect on you.", Hank said with a smile and passed a confused looking Connor.

***

"It snows again.", Gary said dryly.

"You mean, it's still snowing. I never saw it stop for one sec.", Maya stated and gave a customer his order while she looked at the grey sky. She liked snow but not if she had to work in this cold truck. Tom, one of the construction workers, who always came over in his lunch break, joined the truck, as well.

"Hey man, have you heard about the deviant attack at the Plaza? They have destroyed the whole place.", Tom said. Maya had seen the so-called 'attack' on the news but even then, she wasn't trusting the anchorman and his information. Somehow, she was sure that Markus and the others hadn't been violent how it got displayed.

"Yeah, man! That's the reason why I still don't have one. I don't trust these things.", Gary admitted with a spiteful undertone.

"They're not things!", Maya insisted but no one supported her opinion. Gary crossed his arms and shook his head about his sister.

"You're sympathizing with these terrorists? After everything they have done so far?"

"They are not violent!", Maya called out and threw the flipper on the table.

"Haven't you seen the news this morning?"

"Sure, I have-"

"Then you saw how they have destroyed the CyberLife store and everything around!", Gary argued back. Maya gritted her teeth. The fact that they had broken into the store with a truck wasn't helpful for her argument. But still, she was convinced that the news had misrepresented the android’s action.

"They just want to be heard! No one would listen to them-", she argued.

"It would be better if they stay silent, if you ask me! Oh, hey, Jim! What's up man?", Gary said and turned over to the next customer. Maya hated it to be ignored but she also hated to have this kind of conversation with her brother again and again.

"Hey! Good to see you! The usual?", Gary asked the next customer.

"Yeah-"

"Good but please, send this thing away. It's an android free zone here!", Gary said and Maya turned around to see who his brother was talking to. Maya saw Hank and then, her eyes fell on Connor who smiled at her softly and nodded slightly to greet her.

"Hey, plastic asshole! What are you staring at?", Gary asked angry and stepping into the line between Connor and Maya. This was the point where Maya had enough.

"Gary! Shut the fuck up!"

"Stay out of this!”, Gary hissed and glared then at Connor, “And you, go away!"

"You won't send him away!", Maya hissed back.

"This is my truck and my rules! And I don't send him away! I send it away!", Gary said and turned around to Maya with gleaming eyes.

"His name is Connor and you will apologize to him because he's my friend!"

"Your friend? Are you out of your stupid mind? You can't be serious!"

"I am very serious, Gary!", Maya hissed through gritted teeth and stepped closer to her brother.

"Maya, I swear to god-"

"That's enough!", Hank called out to stop them, "Gary, calm down! It's still your sister you're talking to so, calm the fuck down. Connor, I guess Maya could use a break. Accompany her a bit.", Hank said further and watched how Maya stepped back and out of the truck. She threw her apron into a corner with more force than necessary and grabbed her coat and scarf.

"Hank! You can't let her walk around with this thing!", Gary called out frustrated. Once again, Maya stopped and glared at her brother, ready to jump at him again but Hank pushed her carefully further as he saw her angry eyes.

"I trust him. Connor, we meet us later in the DPD.", Hank said with no room for any more objection from anyone.

"I'm so sorry for my brother’s behaviour. Sometimes, he can be such a jerk!", Maya said frustrated after they had walked a bit. She was so angry that she couldn't even look at Connor.

"It's okay-"

"No it isn't!", Maya called out and stopped suddenly. Connor stopped as well and looked confused at her.

"No matter if android or not, no one should be treated like that!", Maya called out and Connor stepped closer.

"You defended me in front of your brother. No one ever did that.”, he said with a soft smile, “Maya, you have the best intentions but not everyone sees it this way and some people won't ever see it like you.", Connor said low.

"It's frustrating.", Maya said but calmed slowly down. The cold air and the falling snow cooled her temper. They continued their way side by side. Maya snuggled deeper into her coat and pushed her hands deeper into the pockets while Connor walked just casually next to her, seemingly unaware of the cold. She watched him, gnawed on her lower lip and asked the question in her mind.

"Aren't you freezing? It's so cold!"

"No. My systems regulate my temperature to a perfect level. See?", Connor said and offered her his hand. Maya smiled because it was completely innocent from him but the butterflies in her stomach danced happily around. She took the hand and because Connor had learnt it recently, he intertwined his fingers with hers. Connor's hand was perfectly warm. And like this, hand in hand, they started to walk again.

"How's your case doing? Was the lead helpful?", Maya asked after five minutes of comfortable silence. The android next to her stayed silent but the LED told her something was bothering him. The LED was spinning yellow with a bit of red.

"Connor?", Maya asked, carefully pushing.

"We have met Kamski-"

"Kamski? You mean the Elijah Kamski?", Maya asked surprised and Connor nodded.

"Hank could make an appointment with him."

"And?", Maya asked excitedly as the android stayed silent.

"We...we haven't found out something useful.", Connor said but stared at the ground, avoiding her glance. Maya knew that he was hiding something.

"Connor, please. Tell me what happened. Something keeps you busy.", Maya said softly and looked at him encouragingly with a smile.

"Maybe he knew something but I…"

"Yeah?"

"I failed. Again.", Connor admitted low and looked away from her. Doubts were written on his face. Maya stopped and stepped in front of Connor. With her hand on his cheek, she turned his face back to her. With a sad expression he looked at the small woman in front of him who was simply nice and sweet towards him. Suddenly, he realized he was going to lose this if he wouldn’t make any progress soon.

"Why do you think you have failed? What happened there?", Maya asked and waited. Connor looked into the distance, his LED spinning yellow as he reconstructed the happenings earlier that day.

"There was this 'Kamski Test'. I had to pass it if I wanted information from him. If I would have passed this test, he would have told me what I needed to know but I… I…", Connor stopped and looked Maya straight into the ocean blue eyes he had seen earlier in a different situation.

"Yeah?", Maya said encouragingly and squeezed his hand, "I'm here for you."

"The test was to kill one of his androids."

"What? That's ridiculous! What kind of test shall this be?", she said shocked.

"It is based on the Turing Test. The test shall show if a machine is able to feel empathy. In the end, Kamski put a gun in my hand while his Chloe knelt in front of me."

"And, then?", Maya asked, feeling on edge. Connor looked away and she tried to give him time. As it was almost too long for her to endure the silence, Connor looked back at her.

"I couldn't kill the android. I saw yo- something in her eyes and I couldn't shoot.", Connor closed his explanation. There was something else. Something in his voice. He wanted to say something else but before Maya could wrap her mind around it, the thought was gone.

"You spared her life because of empathy. That is good. Don't blame yourself, Connor.", Maya said reassuringly but she saw that Connor was still troubled.

#dbh connor #dbh #connor dbh #dbh connor x reader #connor #detroit connor #detroit become human connor #detroit become human aesthetic #detroit become human #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #writing

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taketheringtolohac · 4 years ago

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I have like. Barely thought about the Guerra sisters but someone said that they should be Filipino and now I’m VERY 👀👀👀 and I am having THOUGHTS about them and growing up like!!!

Ok I have a lot of thoughts and this got long so if you are interested read under the cut (cw for talks about Catholicism, mentions of weight, and not great family dynamics)

Izzie and Atlas cooking with their Lola who immigrated to the states and who just. Throws money at them when their parents aren’t looking but who cares about them deeply and wants them to have a strong sense of family tradition and thinks the best way of doing that is through cooking and baking for them.

Izzie who really loves their Lola and all the recipes that Lola gave her but hates how religious her family is and going to church and how uncomfortable it all is for her but who always gets a card saying Jesus Loves You for Christmas and hates how her Lola talks about Christianity and the Philippines because she can TELL how much of it is from growing up in colonial Philippines. She doesn’t really know how to feel about being her Lola’s perfect granddaughter who cooks and cleans and listens to her. Izzie doesn’t like being the “good” one and she doesn’t like leaving Atlas behind but she doesn’t want to be treated as badly as Atlas is by their family so she stays quiet because she likes doing all of the stuff her family wants her to be, and when she does the things they like it makes it easier for her to do what she wants to do in her spare time– learn to play blaseball.

Meanwhile Atlas is here and as they get older they just hate how restrictive her parents are and get so FRUSTRATED with all the RULES and like gets really embarrassed by her culture and her parents accent and the fact that she has to take leftovers for lunch every day to school and hates how her family treats her because she’s not as perfect as Izzie and she doesn’t love doing all the housewife training stuff that Lola and their mom taught them. She loves playing blaseball and sloftball and getting rough and singing karaoke too loudly at big family parties but her family doesn’t LIKE that because she’s not PERFECT like IZZIE is and it just makes her madder because why does IZZIE get to be interested in blaseball and get praised for it but when SHE does it they tell her to wear dresses and be more like Izzie.

(Izzie got into blaseball so she could feel closer to her sister, Atlas thinks she’s just trying to take something else from her.)

And then they sign onto different teams and just let their hatred and jealously feed into each other. Izzie signed in KC, near their hometown, and Atlas chose to join a team that was as far as her parents would let her. They never talk at Chicago/KC games. They go to family gatherings even after they’ve both signed and everyone talks to them and praises them and gives them money even though they don’t need it because they’re proud and they all bet on blaseball anyways, its easier and more lucrative than the casino now, and still they compliment Izzie on her playing more even though it was Atlas who was on the team in high school and she should be the one who they should be proud of instead of Izzie who only got into it as a HOBBY but now they’re complimenting her on using their Lola’s recipes in her bakery (that she OWNS and PURCHASED using her blaseball money, the family asks Atlas why she hasn’t done anything useful with her money yet and she just says she’s saving it. She doesn’t want to own a business) and she doesn’t have time to be mad at it just be Tired. They ask her why she hasn’t lost any weight yet even if she’s been playing blaseball all this time and she just shrugs it off because it’s nothing she hasn’t heard before

When Atlas gets transferred to KC in Season 3 she doesn’t know how to feel. She’s mostly angry. Izzie on the other hand is just so scared of doing something wrong because she doesn’t know how to make their relationship better and she KNOWS she’s the one who fucked it up and she wants to make it better but Atlas is so resentful and she knows she deserves this but she doesn’t know how to reach out. She tried to reach out to their parents and tell them to be nicer to her because she doesn’t think that they love her but they just insist that they’re only doing what’s best for her so that she could have everything that they didn’t and then they just start talking about Immigrating to the states and American dream stuff and how Atlas should be more like her and she has to take everything she has to not hang up the phone.

Izzie stops going to church after Atlas transfers to KC. It isn’t immediate but it does happen. Atlas had stopped going years ago when she came out to their parents and they didn’t react well (they didn’t react badly either, but the thought of going back to that church with all those people who she knew were judging her and praying for her family made her skin crawl) but they didn’t kick her out. Izzie saw that and kept her sexuality to herself for YEARS because she was so scared that her parents would hate her for not being the perfect child they thought she was

When Izzie comes out their family reacts way worse, like she expected, and she’s hurt and sad and doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t want to talk to Atlas about it because she doesn’t want to burden her but she so desperately wants to TALK to her and it’s hard. They don’t really get the chance to until they’re shopping for the things they need to send back to the Philippines one year and it’s awkward but they get through it. They get into some petty argument in the car on the way to their parents house and suddenly they’re shouting and somehow Atlas says something about Izzie being their parents favorite and suddenly Izzie is crying and Atlas is SCARED bc Izzie NEVER cries and Izzie has to pull over to just cry and suddenly she’s telling Atlas everything and Atlas is MORTIFIED because she didn’t KNOW that Izzie was also queer and she felt so bad for treating her like the enemy when really they were on the same team here. And Izzie is apologizing for not standing up for her and for just letting their parents say all that stuff to her and it’s not instant forgiveness because you can’t just erase years of trauma and complicated relationships in a few seconds, but there is understanding.

They aren’t ok right away but they do start talking. About their parents, about their culture, about being ex catholic, about blaseball and just. Start healing. Izzie renames the bakery to what it is now, as a threat to any and all Gods because it’s what tore her family apart and made her and her sister hate each other for so long. Colonialism and religion is what ruined her life and she’s gonna take it all back. Atlas is trying to regain the time spent hating her sister and being mad at the world and trying to do some things to heal, like getting back in touch with her culture after she pushed it away for so long and trying to unpack her trauma in a more constructive way. They both try to start repairing their relationship with their parents. It’s not easy, but they’re all trying.

Eventually, Atlas decides to take up a position in Izzie’s bakery. It’s not perfect and they’ll never be fully ok, but they have each other’s backs and that’s enough for them.

#im not projecting! im not projecting!!!#am i also posting this to ao3 maybe <3 #anyways someone asked why izzie hates god and i said well obviously its bc shes a filipino ex catholic and ran w it #i am emotional and if izzie gone then :) i will be inconsolable :)#if anyone wants to hear my thoughts on filipino guerras <333 lmk bc i will talk about them forever <3333 #blaseball #kansas city breath mints #eizabeth guerra #atlas guerra #roxy talks

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burningdarkfire · 3 years ago

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tagged by @saturdaysky, thank you! always very happy to talk about writing 🤠

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

36 on ao3, with many others left in the past on livejournal or ffnet

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

162k. it’s kind of a shame it doesn’t have the majority of my pre-2011 output as i never ported over my top four or five longest fics. i would’ve loved to see some genuine lifetime totals!

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

9 on ao3 (critrole, nier, hetalia, overwatch, trc, voltron, no. 6, star wars, tiger & bunny). if you expand trc to include anything clamp and throw in code geass then that covers everything i’ve ever published, though homestuck is by far the fandom i have the most WIPs for despite never finishing a single one and deserves a shoutout

4) What are your top five fics by kudos?

take my hand / take my whole life too: critrole, 9k, how essek and caleb’s relationship evolves through touch

blue sky, warm sun: critrole, 3.5k, six mornings caleb wakes with essek

dark night, bright stars: critrole, 3k, six nights caleb spends with essek

kitty love: star wars, 1.5k, kylo ren forms a bond with hux’s cat millicent

the walls kept tumbling down: critrole, 2k, caleb spontaneously visits essek after a hard day

commentary and further answers are below the cut!

spots 1-3 on the list are gladly accepted, given that i also think they’re some of my best and most broadly-appealing shadowgast. kitty love gets its spot despite being pure, pointless crack because it’s for a huge fandom, which is fine and fun but i don’t have a lot of personal attachment to it

the walls kept tumbling down is a surprise! it was a self-indulgent “i want a fic exactly like this to fix my mood and instead of digging through the internet for one i’ll just make one up” that i only worked on for a couple of days. i’m glad it clicked for other people!

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

i always try to respond to comments, although sometimes a week or two pass by before i can find the energy to sit down and do it

admittedly comments have gone unanswered during months or years when i’m not writing fic and then it feels too awkward to a) go back and respond, and b) respond to any further comments on the fic even if they come in when i’m active. so instead those comments haunt my ao3 inbox forever (oops)

i do appreciate every single one though, and there are some comments that i go back to read if i need a pick-me-up just because they were so nice 😊

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

i’ll link my no. 6 fic forgive me because it still dominates my top fics in terms of hits despite being 387 words long. i wrote it in 2011 in less than half an hour, if i’m remembering correctly, and there are a few clever bits in it that i’m still quite proud of

7) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

i don’t usually write or read “pure” crossovers but i do like fusion AUs where characters from one work are imported into the setting of another work

but it’s fandom-dependent. critrole has been an outlier in that i can count on one hand the number of AU fics i’ve read and liked enough to remember. some of my favourite canon-adjacent fics veer off wildly, but they’ve still got their roots in the universe

i’ve published 17 critrole fics myself and they’re all canon-adjacent. i’m only now working on my first fusion-type AU 🤷‍♂️

8) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

i have one distinct memory of receiving criticism on a fic. in hindsight, it was constructive and pretty fair, but i was a young teen and so it still haunts me

9) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

i do!! and i’m excited about it because it’s fairly new to me!

i write to the characters, and what kind of relationship i think they’d have, but it’s probably true that my interests tend towards certain relationship dynamics

10) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i’m aware of!

11) Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes, actually! this was about about a decade ago so sadly the details have been lost in the haziness of memory and the inaccessibility of ffnet. i tried to dig it up last night but couldn’t find it again 😔

12) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

i don’t ... think so? my current roommate and i tried co-writing when we were teenagers but none of that got published. it’s possible i’m forgetting something from my livejournal/early tumblr days because i remember doing a lot of ask games and challenges with other writers and fandom friends

now i’m just an introvert who avoids invites to discords because i feel like i simply Do Not Have Time so 🤡 not sure it’s anywhere on the horizon

13) What’s your all time favourite ship?

i used to have shipping walls and pairing lists until 2015 or so but i have since accepted that i am changeable like the wind. my interests come and go!

i am a multi-shipper though as a general rule. i’ve never had such a loyalty to a pairing that it would bother me to pair one half with someone else, and i also don’t care at all whether or not a ship is canon. it’s just about what’s interesting!

14) What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

i’ve had remarkably sequential focus for my critrole fics and finished nearly every idea i’ve had so far. however, this ACME AU is testing me lol and i’ve spent so much time on it that my list of other ideas to write is only getting longer and longer. nothing is abandoned yet, because not much else has even been started, but i am starting to sweat a little

15) What are your writing strengths?

i love my writing style! i value simplicity and clarity: no flowery descriptions, easy words, few similes, little variance in sentence structures, etc. it can vary, based on my mood or the characters i’m writing, but i like doing more with less

i’ve spent years working at my own style and it is so satisfying to read something i wrote in 2011 and feel how familiar it still is while being able to pick out what i would change

16) What are your writing weaknesses?

recently, it’s been plot. if it can’t be conveyed by 2-4 characters talking to each other then i don’t know how to do it anymore 😭 i’m most invested in emotional resolutions, but it’s probably a good idea to have things happen sometimes!

17) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

i really do not enjoy this when it’s used as a “character quirk”. this includes nicknames, common phrases even if they are spoken that way in canon, and .. everything, really, that’s in a different language

i’ve spent a lot of time in spaces where it seemed widely agreed that doing so was not welcome, and i’ve had considerable fandom “culture shock” reading critrole fics. there are plenty of reasons to have caleb speaking “zemnian” or to emphasize his accent, and those reasons don’t need to be lofty or deep, but i do think there should be a reason beyond “haha this guy says ja instead of yeah”

i promise, absolutely pinky swear, that i don’t judge anyone on an individual basis for doing this. it seems to be a deep-seated fandom trend in this case and i just wish it wasn’t

18) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

tsubasa reservoir chronicle (trc) all the way back in 2010. tsubasa, my beloved, how you changed my life 💕

19) What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

i like different ones for different reasons, but the top contender might be such is the endlessness for nier automata. it’s a vampire/werewolf enemies-to-lovers fusion AU where i put 2b and 9s in an original universe of mine that i wrote about a lot when i was a teenager

i feel like i did a spectacular job of adapting the universe for nier and i thought i conveyed a lot about the world in a relatively short number of words (the entire fic is just under 5k). i’ve considered more than once that i should use this version of the universe going forward because i enjoy it so much!

thanks again for the tag, sky, and i’ll leave this open to anyone else who wants to try as i think most of my mutuals have already been included. don’t be shy about tagging me in your answer if you take my open invite as i love reading these! 💖

#my posts #writing blogging #replies

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bopinion · 3 years ago

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2021 / 26

Aperçu of the Week:

"If Europe were once united in the sharing of its common inheritance, there would be no limit to the happiness, the prosperity, and the glory which its people would enjoy."

Sir Winston Churchill

Bad News of the Week:

Over the years, the EU has evolved from a purely economic alliance into a community of values. Article 2 of the Treaty on European Union makes this "respect for human dignity, freedom, democracy, equality, the rule of law and respect for human rights." And these values must be defended. Unfortunately, not only externally in bilateral relations with the whole world, but increasingly internally. Two incidents of the last week fill me with concern in this regard.

The highest body of the EU is the so-called Council, consisting of the heads of government of all member states. The presidency rotates every 6 months, and since July 1, 2021, it is held by Slovenian Prime Minister Janez Janša. The former constituent republic of socialist Yugoslavia and of it since 2004 first EU member is a European success story. A member of NATO and, since 2007, of the euro zone, Slovenia is now the most prosperous country in the Balkans. According to a 2020 assessment by the Bertelsmann Stiftung, it has achieved above-average success in its economic transformation and political development. And the United Nations Development Program ranks the parliamentary republic among the countries with very high human development.

So the European community of values should actually be in good hands with the head of government of this model student of democratization. Actually. Because Janša, to put it mildly, is polarizing. He repeatedly doubted that global warming in the context of climate change was man-made. He argues for the right of Slovenian citizens to carry firearms. He considers "cultural Marxism" a key threat to the European Union. He congratulated incumbent Donald Trump on his election victory in 2020 before the vote count ended. He has been investigated several times for corruption, once resulting in a prison sentence. He sympathizes with Identitarian movements. He constantly tries to undermine freedom of the press and independence of the judiciary. And and and...

Usually, an EU Council president is expected to moderate, to seek balance, to mediate, to push the general agenda forward, etc. But this agenda currently includes possible sanctions against member states if they do not respect the defined values. The headliner here is, of course, Viktor Orbán. And now Janša has backed Orbán in the dispute over a Hungarian law restricting minors' rights to information on homosexuality. It is to be feared that he will instrumentalize his temporary office - for the first time in its history - to support personal interests. And he will gladly do so against the EU itself.

Another essential body of the EU is the directly elected parliament. In it, the political camps form factions according to their basic orientation, with conservatives, social democrats, liberals and greens dominating. This stable structure, which reflects the preferences of EU citizens, is now facing a challenge: the right-wing populists.

Under the leadership of Marine Le Pen of France's Rassemblement National, Matteo Salvini of Italy's Lega and Viktor Orbán of Hungary's Fidesz, 16 parties explicitly belonging to the right-wing spectrum are preparing to build a new alliance. In addition to the above-mentioned parties, the corresponding parties from Poland, Spain, Austria, Belgium, Denmark, Estonia, Finland, Lithuania, Romania, Greece, Bulgaria and the Netherlands are also part of the alliance.

The planned alliance is the "first stone" in the construction of an alliance to "reform Europe," according to the official declaration of intent. This alliance is the "basis of a common cultural and political work," adds Le Pen, Salvini calls the agreement a "charter of values" on the basis of which a Europe is to be built that is based "on freedom and identity instead of bureaucracy and standardization." In other words, they are planning the overthrow.

Good News of the Week:

A fundamental pillar of every democratic legal system is the principle of "giving the accused the benefit of the doubt". Even in ancient Rome, "In dubio pro reo" applied, and it is still true today: everyone must be presumed innocent until proven guilty. That is good and makes sense. In the 19th century, people in this country spoke of preferring to let twelve guilty people go free rather than hang one innocent person. Innocence weighed more than guilt. So far, so civilized.

Another legal principle in ancient Rome was "Ne bis in idem": (You can) not (be accused) twice for the same. This principle, too, has made it into the modern rule of law. Until last week. Because then the German Bundestag decided to change the underlying law. The background to this is the availability today of forensic and criminal technology resources and tools that did not exist in the past. The decision is causing a great deal of discussion among legal experts.

On the one hand, some see it as calling into question the legal authority of the judiciary. After all, the verdict must be valid - forever. Publicist Franziska Augstein (yes, she is his daughter) denounces this with verve under the headline "Forever suspect". The law would subject once accused to lifelong fear. They would face a lifetime of having their case retried. So what? Victims always have to suffer the consequences of a crime for life.

On the other hand, in some cases it is possible to prove guilt after the fact. I can remember a case in which, after twenty years, fiber and DNA traces led to the conviction of a perpetrator who had kidnapped a child and left it to die in captivity. But at that time he was acquitted for lack of evidence (which was technically not usable at that time). And therefore - "Ne bis in idem" - he could not be charged and convicted again. He remained a free man despite proven guilt. How do you want to explain this to the parents of this child? Everything in me bristles.

Other news of the last days: Bill Cosby was released early from prison. He was the first legally convicted celebrity in #metoo. So why was a clearly guilty man who drugged and raped women released early? For one thing, because many of his at least 60 victims were not considered in court because his acts were "time-barred" - another one of those issues that doesn't sit right in my head without complications. On the other hand, because there was a legal "formal error" in the agreement between two prosecutors. I also find it difficult to acknowledge this.

In this respect, I am satisfied that resourceful - and expensive, since it is usually the financial strength of a defendant that determines the quality of his defense (this, too, does not correspond to my sense of justice) - lawyers now have one less legal dodge at their disposal, which is questionable at least in some cases. For there is one principle of jurisprudence that cannot be shaken: proof beyond reasonable doubt. In my opinion, this has to count. And it should count regardless of when it came to light, by whom, and under what circumstances. Likewise victims should have a higher value than (proven!) perpetrators. After all, Justitia is supposed to be blind - and not stupid.

Personal happy moment of the week:

In French, my son got an A on a team assignment. That is remarkable. Because according to his own statement, he "hates" this school subject. Which is a shame, because after all, his stepmother, a French Canadian, and I speak and love this language. However, I have to concede to him that, especially at his age, the teacher is crucial (I just leave it there). And that the first year of a new subject under "pandemic circumstances" is anything but ideal. Nevertheless, his big sister should finally stop picking on this belle langue - after all, she is a role model!

I couldn't care less...

...that Germany has been kicked out of UEFA Euro 2020. The Belgium vs. Italy match on Friday, for example, clearly showed that there are simply much better teams at the moment. And apparently also better coaches - I really don't understand any of this, but some tactical lineups seemed questionable even to me. But that doesn't mean that I would root for England now ;-)

As I write this...

...only with the right hand, I suffer from the so called "Moderna arm" - it's a good thing that as a right-handed person I had the first COVID vaccination put into my left arm. My daughter had still told me to let my arm rotate vigorously in order to avoid exactly that. But when everyone else in the waiting area looked at me a little irritated, I let it go. That was probably a mistake.

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thudthud · 3 years ago

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the hunger of colonization

I transport the account of colonizer on my skin, The karma of my ancestors, a vicious quantity left by the need to win Every mis step taken is another memory within my brain My ancestors did nought for creation… in fact they were quite vain There is nothing I can do about altering the past All I can do is put in sufficient exertion to make the change of energy last My grandpa used to say, “ There are good Indians and bad”* HOWEVER, It was on their backs that I’ve received everything I’ve ever had.

Whenever these words were spoken I would shut my ears off from it pretend I was in my happy place and acquit them from all judgment. I know now that doing that wasn’t the right decision That I should have made standing with my friends my one and only mission. The speeches they expressed around me never rested well in my stomach I could see all the privilege I’ve been provided from it. You may look at me…. and ask what backs behind me I see.

I see Grandmas and Aunts. Uncles and Dads. Babies, friends and some very injured lads. I see their home and land being given to people because of the color of skin they had. I know what it feels like to have your home ripped from you. To only be able to look at a distance as your home is used without you. Being told you were never welcome in the first place That you need to leave so someone ‘better’ can take your space. The words that left my mouth much were, “WHAT HAVE I DONE WRONG?” “DID I NOT TRY TO TO EVERYTHING YOU ASKED, HAVE I NOT BEEN STRONG?”

When I opted to make my life about making things better, I ungracefully untied knots that had always been together. Knots within myself and the people around me. Knots within the very constructs of society. a lot of those knots never parted whatsoever, A lot of the people thought their remarks were quite clever. They really weren’t clever in the slightest. A lot of their views were incredibly rightest. The year right now is twenty one years past the millennium, I still have aunts that worked and slapped kids in gymnasiums. They hide under their veils and hoards of cloth. Sitting around tables together to scoff I know this to be true because I’ve seen it with my own eyes, Resting over tables and telling each other lies.

The color of your skin should not dictate your worth. Certain things should not be a guarantee from birth. The path forward is curvy and long The start of it wasn’t marked with the bang of the gong For a lot of us this will be our lifelong matter I really hope that at some point we can all work together.

My skin is pale and white. but please understand I am still trying to do what is right. There is no way in the world I could ever fully comprehend, Id like to help with anything to try and make amends Saying sorry does nothing at all, It’s the actions that go with them that allow a person to stand tall. If you filled a room with my family you’d see Half of them are bending backwards screaming like Banshee’s Their screams fill the room with darkness and hate. Their ideas and opinions have become stagnate. Its time now to hear the voices of those who were hurt For me and my people to help them burn down the church.

This system was built on all of their blood and sweat changing from residential schools to foster homes with very little and yet Many middle fingers are still raised high Justin Trudeau are we allowed to ask why? Why was there an “Indian problem”** to be fixed? Why is there so much internal trauma that’s so deep and all mixed? People in these positions of power doing the same over again despite the people getting louder

If the ancient Greeks travelled here to see democracy in action they’d cry kneel to the ground and Throw their hands to the sky “Why doesn’t everyone have a voice” “We invented democracy so people would have a real choice” If I had a child in the world today, I would be so wary of the words people use around and say. How big a deal it is to raise our babies into Earth Warriors, never knowing pain and only being filled with wonder. Full disclosure? I have no idea what I am doing all I know is I need to get behind what is brewing. This us and them has gone on forever you’d think after a few hundred years we would have gotten much better.

I read columbus’s*** journals in my first year of university, A book wrapped in hate and providing much clarity. “These people are beautiful” he wrote in his journal “They would make excellent slaves” he said and I hurled This journal entry has impacted the lives of you and me These journal entries shaped our entire society.

At one point in time, I was racist and all of my views were undeniably baseless. I some times remember those views in the back of my mind how can people who speak those thoughts ever think they are kind? We need to tell people to stop spewing inappropriate garbage Stop looking at all these people as targets and listening to their knowledge There’s a man in my town who stands on a box with a mic His speakers being over used with too much force and might Babies and kids walk past him with their mothers. Hearing from him that God hates their sisters and brothers. Freedom of speech only goes to far Human rights need to not be seen as bizarre I come from the settlers of this land coming here being promised something very grand When I walk on the sidewalk people clear the space for me If only they knew for them id take a knee. I am starting to understand what it can feel like to be hyper aware of your skin. To not feel totally comfortable in any space that you are in. I have friends who are both one and the other. Getting blamed by both communities for not being another The internal struggle they wake up daily with is something we need to start understanding. That being part of both communities should be something rewarding.

I used to be a day camp counselor, getting to work with amazing kids every summer. One week a child came in my care, being sent with a rap sheet I was hyper aware. The week started just like any other, telling the kids the rules and to get along with one another. He sat separate from most of the children, asking every ten minutes to go to the washroom. After the second day I pulled him aside to just talk we ended up on the forest path outside and walked The child was going to the washroom you see To wash his hands it was not to pee. “I do it every ten minutes, because out of all the kids I am certainly the dirtiest” He showed me his beautifully tanned skin and he sighed feeling like all of himself was something to hide. Tears filled my eyes and started to fall, I didn’t think anything I had to say would have any pull at all. this sweet baby in front of me was hurting so much it was a crime To make an innocent child believe they are covered in slime. “Baby boy I am going to tell you this once and very clear, there is nothing wrong with your skin at all my dear. You are a child unlike any other, being blamed for the anger and called a great bother. I see you my child I see you so clear You are so beautiful this breaks my heart and fills it with fear I worry that someone else is going to say something like this to you and that you will try to mend the cracks yourself with nasty unfit views. When you stand in the pond out back of the center, the tadpoles come to you like you’re an energy center. The bees fly around you with so much glee, I know no other person who has bees sleep on their knees” We really need to get into everyone’s minds that being racist isn’t cool and all of that knowledge hand off starts within our schools If I had been educated properly maybe getting thrown into it wouldn’t be so bewildering That colonization hasn’t done much good for the world, its sent us all spinning. When I was growing up I was told there are three sides to every story. That the truth was hidden somewhere in the middle of all the hate and swearing. I think if we all just sat down and centered with the earth once a day. We would all pay more mind to what these people say. *This sentence isn’t appropriate and is incredibly wrong. I loved my Grandpa very much but his views weren’t right.

**Duncan Campell Scott said this in parliament quite a few years before Hitler announced that Germany “Has to fix the Jew problem” This is genocidal speech.

***we do not capitalize the names of those who do not matter.

By Thudthud

#poem #colonization #residentialschools #poemofthenight #Canadasucks #Apology #poetryfrommysoul

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thecursedhellblazer · 4 years ago

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Plotted starter for @blindeddevil

London had many shapes. Some of them were visible to everyone, from her stable residents to the tourist who set their foot in her bosom for the very first time. Others were more subtle and so well hidden that you could have lived in the City from the womb to the grave and you would have never been able to noticed them. It was the kind of impossible things that required not just an attentive eye, but a very open mind too. And they also a brave leap of faith, the stubborn will to believe in what most would have considered madness, dark myths, horrific fantasies.

John Constantine had always had the right eye for everything strange, out of place, impossible. The darker the better and the easier for him to spot. His mind had been cracked open at a very young age, too young for him not to bear the marks of it, in his sanity, on his body and on his soul, and it was both a blessing and a damnation. It made him good at what he did, but the price had been so very often almost too much to bear. He coped with chain smoking to soothe his nerves, casual sex to delude himself, in one, brief moment of thoughtless bliss, that he could have seen another dawn without shattering for the umpteenth time, and far too much drinking to knock him unconscious, in the hope that the alcohol would have push him deep enough for the nightmares to catch up with him. It wasn’t ideal, but nor was balancing himself between unrepentant selfishness and a too stormy ocean of self-loathing.

Looking at him, most people wouldn’t have been able to see the constant, bone-deep exhaustion that accompanied in every waking moment. All they saw was the charming, sharp smirk and the irritating devil-may-care attitude. Trench coat with every kind of weather, smart, comebacks, all cigarette and arrogance. He burst into their lives, did and took whatever he needed to and then left, leaving them confused, torn between annoyance, disbelief and fascination. So blinded by what he showed off that they were never allowed to spot the cracks that ran all over underneath the surface, large and ugly and impossible to fix.

John knew all that and he constantly exploited every advantage that it bought him, every opening that it provided, every weak spot that it uncover. Ruthless because he had no choice but being it, without hesitation because there was always time for the guilt to come back to haunt him later. And oh, how many regrets he had accumulated already. Too many to count, even if he could have named each one of them with deadly precision.

It was a mostly lonely life, one in which every connection could have been turned in yet another thing you would have either lost because of a bad choice, a mistake or been forced to sacrifice in the same of something else. Magic always came with a price and there was no way to cheat that rule, not even for the man who was known as “Conjob” even in Hell.

The magician chewed the butt of his cigarette slowly, studying the building before him. It looked nothing more than an abandoned warehouse, one of the many that still stood in the outskirts of the City. Scribbled walls, eroded by rain and humidity, broken windows kept closed by old wooden boards, chains on the rusty doors blocking entrance. A crumbling construction waiting for someone to decide its sad fate. However, he could feel that there was much more to it, under its anonymous facade, and literally under the building itself too. Dark energy sprouting from the ground and raising, reaching out from the cloudy sky, trying to suck the light out and poisoning the air all around.

At first, when he had decided to investigate the sightings, he had been slightly skeptical. However, the alternative would have been agreeing to pack up and allowing Chas to drag him into that bloody vacation his best friend kept insisting he needed so badly, so he had used them as an excuse to evade the other’s insistence once again. However, it had turned out that, all considered, he had made the right choice, and not just the selfish one. There was something going on there, something that couldn’t be explained with some random rumour made to drive people to keep away from a bad neighbourhood so that the local criminals could handle their business in peace. The Darkness was thick and strong, impossible to miss for someone like him, who knew how to perceive it.

Constantine blew out one last mouthful of smoke before letting his cigarette fall on the ground. The trail, however, didn’t dissipate in the cold air of the night, but instead it shaped itself in a line at a flick of his wrist and a whispered word, a thread that, from where he was standing, stretched toward the building. A track for him to follow, straight into the open jaws of whatever horror was lying in wait ahead of him.

A mysterious figure ripping through the shadows, a monster with the head of a stag leaving a trail of blood but no corpses behind it. Ghostly whispers echoing among the walls of narrow alleys, coming apparently from nowhere. And damn if that place held a smell that was very familiar even if it shouldn’t have been. The very peculiar stench of Hell itself, a mixture of sulfur, rot and despair.

One last look at his surroundings, blue eyes scanning the veil of darkness that had fallen on the roads, just to make sure that he hadn’t missed anything, and John stepped forward, following the trail of smoke he had willed into becoming his guide towards the source of the energy he was sensing. He was probably about to walk into some sort of trouble, crossing that threshold without knowing what he would find behind it, but after all that was what he tended to do. You couldn’t win a game of gambling if you didn’t take risks. And, among the many things, he happened to be a gambler too.

#* Blokes like me? We cheat. * ::ic::#* I walk my path alone * ::threads::#* The Circle of the Shadows * ::thread::#v. The Hellblazer #blindeddevil #(( i hope this works! ))#(( lmk if you need me to change something! ))#(( I wasn't sure what you had in mind for the cult's hq ))#(( so I left the setting vague ))#(( I'll add more actual action in my next reply! ))

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themidnightfarmer · 4 years ago

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Bringing in some colour || Morgan & Jared

Timing: Present

Location: Jareds greenhouse

Tagging: @mor-beck-more-problems & @themidnightfarmer

Description: Morgan and Jared do some mosaic for the greenhouse, and talk.

Triggers: none i think?

“Thank you for letting me help you with this. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve been able to do something nice with my hands. Or, nice and productive anyway,” Morgan said, her joke laughing behind her eyes. She spread the green glass panes around Jared’s kitchen table so they looked like a sharp-edged rendering of the sea. One by one she picked them up, careful not to let the panes trickle through her fingers or snap under her thumb. She pressed them into the window frame until she heard their quiet sigh of connection and sealed them in safe with a few dabs of her puddy knife. “Who’s the one who taught you how to do all this stuff anyway?” She asked. “Seems like a big job for one fae all on his own.”

Jared blinked over at Morgan owlishly before he caught on to her meaning. He snorted and was eternally grateful that his glamour covered any heat that might take over his cheeks in a blush. “Oh wow. Love isn’t dead I suppose.” he commented lightly with a small laugh. The variety of colours spread out across the only free bench in the greenhouse sparkled in the midday sunlight and he smiled as Morgan fit a full pane of their work into the frame ready to go up. “Google, google and youtube are wonderful teachers Mogan, and tuition fees are close to zero.” Jared joked. “But the farm stuff, I was born in town, this farm has been my family's farm since 3 years before that even. I grew up fixing stuff that broke and managing animals...although my idea of good cattle and my human families? Not quite the same.”

“You might even say it’s un-dead,” Morgan smirked, maybe too pleased with herself. “Romance everlasting.” She reached for one of the smaller pieces and fit it into the grid, trying to see it up close and far away at once. So many little pieces, amplified to so much more beauty by being brought together. “And that is seriously impressive. I mean, I did a lot of that too when I was hustling through the day back in Texas, but it was hard. And I wasn’t very good at it either. I need that personal touch, you know?” She smiled over at him again. “And I still think what you’re doing is more than worth being proud of. I’m not sure who else would even know how to take care of your critters like you do.” A thought came to her then, less bright than her last. “How...how was it in there, at the ring, with their animals? Do you know where any of them ran off to?”

“I find youtube a lot easier than being taught something. School was never my thing so I struggle to learn through being told. But everyone has it different. What were you trying to learn while you were ‘hustling’ in texas?” Jared asked curiously, his own fingers moving over the glass pieces to select one for the mosaic they were constructing. A few of the panes had fallen in on his greenhouse recently. And Jared had decided he wanted something to make him smile, and a little bit of colour would do wonders he was sure. The compliment took the sting out of bringing up the whole situation at the ring, but that didn’t mean the reminder didn’t sting a little anyway. “It wasn’t...very good in there. I tried to keep my focus, but there was a lot going on with everything. Being realistic isn’t easy sometimes. I just wish I could have done something for them all. But that’s not...you know realistic. I don’t blame anyone for protecting themselves, I...do blame the people who took the poor things captive. They deserved whatever they got.” He shot Morgan an uncomfortable look. “Not a popular opinion that one. By human standards I’m supposed to put ‘people’ first.”

“I was mostly learning to take care of myself online and from handbooks.” Morgan said. “But can I ask why? About school? I don’t mean like--I’ve become well aware how the common school systems and classroom set ups in this country underserve and in some cases sabotage growth in some students. I’m always up for finding new ways to accommodate and help my students and, well, you can’t help but think about it when you learn how many species there are and how many of us don’t get a handbook or a community for how to deal with...anything. I can’t imagine how hard it is for people like us to get by on a practical level sometimes. So I just...wondered. It’s good, though, that you found a way to make do for yourself. I’m happy for that.” She tried to busy herself with the next few pieces of the mosaic they were constructing together, but after the first one she had to stop. She looked at Jared with eyes that held only understanding for him. “We’re people too, Jared. And from what I understand from Remmy, they treat dogs at the pound better than they did some of these creatures. I don’t know how to...how to carry what I did there. But I don’t think it was wrong. Not the way other people would think it was wrong. And I don’t know what we could’ve done different, exactly. Those people didn’t...they didn’t see us, you know? They didn’t see any of the creatures they kept locked up as anything with a life of its own. They just let them die, horribly, night after night.” She shivered and wiped away a tear budding at the corner of her eye. “And I don’t believe in moral binaries anyway so, you know, fuck human standards.”

The nymph was lost at first, the man hadn’t ever really thought about why he hadn’t done well in school. It just had sort of been a reality for him, he was sure it hadn’t helped that he’d started skipping. Even fae kids could have a rebellious phase it seemed. But he’d not grown out of it quickly considering he knew he wasn’t even human. “I don’t know honestly, I guess I was distracted by a whole host of other things. I needed to learn to focus, my bones ache all the time, and my mind wanders to my kids. Just maybe didn’t have the discipline or the knowledge to block it out and keep up. My glamour used to be my main focus day to day when I was younger.” Jared shrugged and smiled at Morgan. “Probably not the answer you were looking for, but I had no one to teach me how to manage all those things, so I was a slow learner all around. Never graduated, so it’s not like I can say I HAVE learned to manage myself.” he laughed jovially, not bothered by this fact as much as he used to be. The reality of the ring was indeed a sad one. It moved him to know Morgan felt the same way. He hoped she was shedding a tear for the creatures like he had and not just the people who’d suffered. Although both parties were definitely deserving of the grief. “Human standards suck, always have, according to the very few fae I’ve met. But maybe we’re just the vindictive type?” He reached out to the woman and gave her an encouraging smile. “If it helps. I’ve wandered the woods these last few days and a few have found their way to me. There is hope. They’re glad to be free, and you did that. Not only are your friend Remmy and Nell free, but some of them are too.”

Morgan shrugged. “I don’t know, sounds like keeping up that glamour full time takes a decent amount of concentration and discipline. Maybe you would’ve had the headspace if it wasn’t for that, but letting your fae flag fly in public isn’t exactly practical. Or safe. I think you’ve managed pretty well on your own, though. You’ve got a handle on everything that matters most to you, and that’s the important thing, right?”

She went slowly back to her work, pressing each piece with care and dabbing away at the grout that rose between the pieces so it was squished just right. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the word vindictive. In that moment in the dark, freshly flung from the bear, hearing that woman have the gall to be upset with her, go for her like she was the one owed. She remembered her own rage, her own hurt… “Maybe we wouldn’t have to be if things were more fair. But I am glad, you know?” She sniffled and blinked back her way tinto some composure. “We have our friends back, and maybe there’s some critters who can live their life with a little more peace. I’m not, you know, a longtime fighter or worker for this sort of thing like you are, I didn’t even know half the species I’m aware of now existed until I moved here, but I am...I do think your animals deserve as much of a fair shot as they can get.”

“That is the important thing. Though I wish there was a fae flag. We definitely need a flag. But it’s got to be invisible and it’s got to steal your name when you look at it. Since I’m pretty sure those are the rules.” Jared joked. It was slow work, but the mosaic for the gaps in the greenhouse would brighten the place up, and they definitely needed it around the farm lately. “We do have them back, and you don’t need to be fighting for my kids like I do. No one does, I just really appreciate that you don’t think of them as lowly as you could. Everyone deserves a shot you know?” He paused and put the last few spots of colour into the pane of glass he was working on and held it up towards the window to let the light through it. “But hey, all we can do is our best, all anyone can do is their best. And it’s sometimes not what we want, not enough, or not what you need. But it’s the best you can do. And it’s okay...but in my humble opinion my mosaic skills are godlike and nothing I can create will ever be less than perfect.” he tacked on to make her smile.

Morgan couldn’t help but snort along with Jared. “Promise binds you on the spot not to talk about it too I bet.” She fumbled with the pieces she was working with and laid the last few down along the section she was working on. “You really are a uniquely understanding person, Jared. I don’t know as much as you do, obviously, but I do believe that everyone should get a fair shot, yeah.” She sniggered again at his pride in his handiwork. “Excuse me! I am clearly a goddess for my contributions to this work of fine art,” Morgan quipped. “We should let it rest before we put it in, yeah? But I think it’s the most beautiful thing ever made by supernatural hands. You know if you need anything more substantial… I mean, you helped break my friends out from the ring and fixed my brain. If that doesn’t make us friends now, I’m not sure what else could.”

He smiled at her widely. “I do try, it’s hard to see things from the other side a lot of the time. But I’m trying to get better. Especially after all this stuff.” Jared shrugged and then admired her work as well as his own. He was really happy with how it was turning out. Asking for Morgan's help had definitely been the key to all this. It was kind of therapeutic as well. “Oh yeah definitely, absolutely. Only gods would be able to create something like this. We’re the highest of the high. No one can even see us anymore, we're so good.” The nymph shrugged. “You don’t need to offer anything to be friends. We can just be friends you know...no strings required.”

Morgan’s face turned sheepish. “Sorry. Old habit, I guess. I was raised to believe in equivalent exchange in all things, to keep my balance with the universe and maintain that balance with everything and everyone I encountered. At least as much as possible. But I think maybe when it comes to certain people, maybe when it comes to friends...balance can look different, or be different than how I was taught.” She ran her finger over the fine glass pieces. They didn’t feel like anything to her but they really were beautiful together, even in all their misfit shapes and humble offerings, they were enough. “Then we’re friends, Jared. No deals or offers or trades. Just friends.”

#C: Morgan #P: Chatzy

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