#on that note i need to make all sorts of silly contraptions with him

[articskele]

Guys the yearning….. gguys……..

[elham5379]

As Quebec hadn't given him any specific instructions on where to head, he decides to roam around, map the place out. He turns a few corners, noting down each of the doors and rooms as he went, when suddenly-

"Holy shit, you made it?"

He finds Kamran's cell.

"I thought Bec wanted you dead, but hey, this is a pleasant surprise."

He slowly returned to reality, the bright lights over his heavy eyelids made his world red for a second until he opened his eyes. Kamran winced and attempted to bring his hands up to cover his eyes, only to discover his shakey hands. He'd never seen himself weak like this before, not even in prison when he barely ever ate. Old age... he wasn't that old, was he? Look at him attempting to convince himself. Perhaps if he was killed off back in Turkey, perhaps he would have been more of a success. The road where he was either a success or failure really was a living hell... just as he'd mentioned eight years ago. Except that eight years ago he was doing great, up until now, it was pure havoc.

Kamran managed to pull himself in an up straight position, bringing a hand up to rub his eyes. He took a look around, finding himself in some sort of cell.

His chest stings. A weak hand clutched his chest, he lifted his shirt and found stitching lines.

"I've got you now, haven't I?"

The memories flow back like an ocean wave, soft yet chilling. His chest feels tight, and the chemicals in the air don't help. He feels manic, the need to escape, where was he? What happened? And who are those people? His episode pauses itself as a familiar voice is heard.

Kamran doesn't bother with looking over, it was the silly wannabe cop who was also some sort of philosopher. He grits his teeth in anger, his eyes staring down at the hard cold floor with silent rage. He slowly closed his eyes and turned his head in the direction of the kid. His eyelids drew back and his cold blue eyes landed right on the others', a death stare.

Foxtrot shrugs and sighs at Kamran's gaze, "Yeah, I deserve that."

He looks around the bars surrounding the man, trying to figure out what it is that's holding it together. It looked just like an ordinary cell, but there had to some strange contraption or weird function built into it. This was Quebec's haven, after all, it's not Bec-ian if there's not some modification to... literally anything.

"Look, I'm sorry," he halfheartedly apologizes, "I had a job to do, just like you did."

He looks away and rubs the back of his neck with the hand not held in a sling, "I'm sure it won't, but if this makes you feel any better-"

He unbuttons the top part of his shirt, just enough to expose his own stitches, "Look at that."

"I have to give it to you," he chuckles and buttons the shirt back up, "You have a very good aim."

Fox sits down outside the cell, "I thought we were goners there, truth be told."

Then, he lazily grins, "Might be weird to say, but it'd be a shame if you died early."

"That was a whole adventure you lead me through, it was amazing!" Foxtrot cheered in a tone of false childish innocence, as if the chase was nothing more than a game of pretend.

This is my favorite scene from my favorite RP with my OC Kosar (Kamran). The red isn’t my words, it’s my RP partners. He’s been gone for a while, hope he’s okay ❤️ I love Foxtrot, he’s so comedic. This scene really captured the difference between the two characters and the tension built from Kosar’s reply is so easily broken by the first two words in the next reply. He shrugged. He fucking shrugged. I love them.

Ps. The RP was called Hunt, this scene sort of explains everything.

[paddockbunny]

I’ve just had surgery and could I request something fluffy? Max, Daniel or Pierre please x

"Maybe a peek...'cause your hot"

Summary : A bit load of sugary fluff of Daniel picking you up after you have wisdom tooth removal surgery. Rating : 16 Pairing : Daniel Ricciardo x Reader Word Count : 809 blurb Trigger Warnings : Post surgery discussion, language, teeth discussion (cause I know some people are triggered by that)

💞Authors Note: I hope you’re feeling better, there is nothing worse than being post surgery. I hope your recovery goes well and this little blurb is ok ☺️

Daniel genuinely didn’t know what to expect when he came to pick you up after your wisdom tooth extraction. He had seen all the funny videos that circulated around online but those were of teenagers, you were a full-grown woman. Surely, the drugs wouldn’t affect you THAT much?

But as soon as the nurse pulled a face when she opened the door to show him into room, he realised what he was going to be in for.

You had some contraption around your head with ice packs built in to keep the swelling down. But it was the fact your head was sort of lolling around while you spoke nonsensical words that made him crack up.

It wasn’t that you were super serious but out of the pair of you he was certainly the goofy, silly one so this was incredibly amusing for him

“There he is!” Your arms stretched out toward him and he held back laughter when he saw the padding poking out of your mouth. You were cute even if you were high as fuck.

Daniel leaned in and stopped before kissing you on your dry cracked lips and instead placed a quick, gentle kiss on your forehead and you feigned shock. “My doctor will kick your ass for that.”

Daniel pulled back and couldn’t help but laugh as you start babbling to the nurses about the doctor saying you needed lots and lots of kisses to feel better. If you had been fully aware of what was going on he would have claimed to feel ganged up on but clearly you were on another planet from the painkillers they had given you as you came around from surgery.

And then, as the nurses handed him a bag full of the things you needed for recovery and helped you into his car, it dawned on him he was in charge of you and he hoped and prayed he would be able to do a good job.

During that car journey Daniel listened as you spoke mindlessly, most of it not making a single bit of sense. You kept calling him handsome which he liked, and then when he had to break heavily for a car ahead slamming on their breaks, you called him a bad driver he didn’t like. He tried to plead his case and said he was the last of the late breakers and he physically couldn’t be a bad driver when he’s one of the best in the world but you just kept shushing him and calling him pretty.

Finally, after getting back to his, Daniel helped you out of the car and into the house. He managed to get you to the bedroom and you only groaned once from twinges of pain.

“It’s alright baby, let's get you into bed and I’ll get you some ice chips.” He said as he sat you down on the edge of the bed and got on his knees to take your trainers off. While he did that your hand reached out and stroked his curls like he was a little pet. He couldn’t help but smile because he wondered what your mind was thinking of as he glanced to see you content.

“Gentle, gentle….” Daniel said calmly when he helped you out of your zip up top and you whipped your arms out of the sleeves rather quickly for his liking. He was worried that you would hurt yourself, burst stitches or something. He wanted to protect you and take care of you like he knew you would if it had been him and roles were reversed.

Daniel tenderly went to the hem of your t-shirt and started pulling it, almost getting it over your head – even with the funny head bandage ice pack thing – and you stopped him and dramatically clutched the top at your chest.

“Uh!” You yelped and he pulled back immediately, scared he had hurt you, “I have a boyfriend.” You wag your finger at him playfully.

“I know you do.” He held back his laughter and bit his bottom lip to avoid cracking when you added; “You can’t see my boobs because I have a boyfriend.” And he almost lost it at that. He felt himself fall even more in love with you in that moment because you simply looked so cute – and it was clear how much you needed him to look after you while you were out of your mind on prescription drugs

“Ok well, maybe a peek…cause your hot but don’t tell him…shh….” And as you flashed him quickly Daniel sat back on his knees and put his hands over his face to hide the fact he had tears streaming down his face from laughter but then played along

“I know for a fact he loves your boobs…and when you get better he will show you how much.”   

[heytherejulietx]

The Office - Bughead

Masterlists

Requests open (ONLY for Bughead)!

Read on AO3 here!

Notes - Ahh I’m so excited to post this one! This fic is for an April writing challenge by @writers-chateau using the prompt “office au”. This is based on an actual episode of the show “The Office” - season 6 episode 17 “The Delivery”. I’m so happy with how this turned out - this is fuelling my obsession with the show and bughead amazingly. Also thank you to @andmybelovedneitherdoyou for helping me out with some of the characters in this and beta reading it for me, I love you tons! Some characters and lines are taken from the show so not all of this fic is my original content!

Warnings - Pregnancy / labour, mentions of pain.

Word count - 5k.

Riverdale tag list - @bucky-j-barnes @adorably-sweet-hufflepuff @kpopgirlbtssvt @booksmusicteaandanimals @happy-puff @cheryllclayton @jesso80 @dietbreadloaf @thebluetint @hppygmc8 @lilireinhartsimp @camiczzzz @bitchy-broken @crazyninjalight @luella-cane @bc-jh22

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“Good afternoon, I just wanted to check and see if there was anything you needed before I went on my maternity leave since I won’t be here for a while,” Betty leaned back in her seat as she spoke, her free hand resting over her eight months pregnant stomach. She should have been on maternity leave already for a few weeks now, especially considering how far along she was in her pregnancy, but Betty was stubborn and had refused to only until she really had to. Her and Jughead needed the money from two incomes, especially with a baby on the way, and although Jughead had tried to get her to take it sooner, there was no stopping Betty once she was determined to do something. So at almost eight and a half months pregnant she was still working her office job, selling printers, paper, and other stationery supplies. “Yeah, I’m having a baby. Thank you, you're so kind,” The blonde smiled at the nice comment that the customer had left, scribbling down a note on her pink post-its as they continued. “Great, I’ll type up your order for you now. Thank you, have a nice day.”

“Wait a minute, you can’t do that,” Betty sighed as she put the phone down and looked across her desk, where Bret was seated opposite her. “You cannot exploit your baby for sales.”

“Hey, did I tell you we’re having a baby?” Jughead’s voice cut in from where he was sat on Betty’s left in the middle of herself and Bret speaking with a customer, shooting a wink in the latter’s direction when he started glaring at him.

“Hey, stop that Jones.” He snapped.

“Bret, there is nothing bad about talking about your life. People like that kind of stuff-” Betty started, before she winced and squeezed her eyes shut as her right hand pressed into her side.

Jughead looked up over at his wife’s desk with a small concerned frown, a crease forming in between his eyebrows when seeing the pain she was in. Betty had been having contractions since the morning, though since they were irregular and far apart, they had agreed to wait until they were seven minutes apart before going to the hospital. Their insurance company only covered two nights there so they were trying to hold off until midnight, but seven minutes apart was when they were going if she got there before midnight.

“See? Even your baby hates it. They aren't even born yet and you’re using them for your own personal gain. How disgusting.” Bret scoffed, and Jughead just shook his head at him as he wheeled his chair closer to Betty around the corner of the desk.

“You try giving birth to a baby then, Bret.” Betty shot back towards him once the contraction had pretty much passed, gently squeezing her husband's hand when it had been offered to her.

“Fine, easy, my hips are big enough for an easy birth anyways. Maybe that’s why you’re already so bad, you’re too small.” Bret rolled his eyes.

“Why don’t you have a baby then if you’d be so great at it,” Jughead proposed, somehow managing to keep himself composed through the ridiculous proposal. “Then you could use your own baby for sales.” He shrugged before he leaned back closer to Betty to check that she was okay, leaving Bret staring into the distance as if he was actually considering the idea.

-

“So, what are you thinking about baby names? I’m dying to know.” Veronica enquired with a smile as she leaned against Betty’s desk, beside where the woman herself was seated in her chair.

As silly as it sounded she had been trying to avoid anything that was even rumoured to induce labour; so no spicy food, no sex (although that wasn’t really a problem in the office - at least not recently), and no walking around unless she really had to. Jughead had offered to wheel her around in her desk chair, but after a recent incident with a shopping cart and a cast on Archie’s arm she decided against it and declined his offer.

“Well, if it’s a boy then he’ll be taking up Jughead’s name as the fourth,” Betty smiled when she caught Jughead winking at her from across the desk, deciding to ignore the sarcastic fake yawn that Veronica let out. “And if it’s a girl then we’re thinking, oh-” She cut herself off with a quiet groan, her hands coming around her stomach as she stiffened in her seat. She felt Veronica’s hand on her arm soothingly, and just as she heard her husband start to speak beside her, his voice was soon drowned out by their excited boss making his way out of his office.

“Oh oh! Contraptions she’s contrapting!” Reggie’s voice rang through the office loudly, very clearly excited that Betty’s baby was slowly but surely on the way.

Reggie Mantle was a strange man. For such a well put together man; slicked back hair, expensive looking suits, and the smoothest talk when he needed to sort a business deal - he was honestly quite far from that. To everyone in the office who got to see Reggie outside of formal business and meetings; he was a loud, childish, obnoxious, idiot. To put it politely. He had a good heart, but he either didn’t use it enough or went too far. When it came to Betty and Jughead’s baby, he was definitely pushing it too far.

“Okay!” He clapped, standing in front of the entire office as he grinned. “Someone call an ambulance, grab the go bag. It’s hospital time let’s go!”

“Why do you have a go bag-” Betty started before she was cut off.

“Okay, calm down Reggie,” Jughead shook his head a little, lifting a hand. “We aren’t going to the hospital yet, we’re trying to wait until midnight because of our stupid HMO.”

“Right, of course, Betty cross your legs and keep ‘em in there.” Reggie pointed at her and earned an irritated look in return from Betty as her contraction started passing.

“Yeah sure, I’ll do just that.” Betty muttered sarcastically with a sigh as she managed to relax back in her seat.

Veronica usually had the best chair in the office - she had lied to corporate about some back issues just to get an expensive though very comfortable chair out of them, compared to the cheap and uncomfortable ones that everyone else in the office had - though through the last week of work she had been letting Betty use it to make sure she was comfortable. She could handle an uncomfortable chair for a week. Just about, anyways.

As Bret distracted Reggie with something that led the two to retreat into his office and Veronica left to go and find Archie, Jughead wheeled his chair around the desk again to be beside Betty and gently took her hand.

“Are you sure you don’t want to just go in now?” He asked as he gently ran his thumb across her knuckles.

“No, no I’m fine,” Betty smiled and shook her head as she gently squeezed her husband’s hand. “When they’re seven minutes apart then we’ll go. I really wanna try and make it until twelve, Jug.”

“Okay, as soon as they’re seven minutes apart then we go.” Jughead gently squeezed her hand back and pressed a kiss to her lips for a moment, matching her smile with his own once he had pulled away before he wheeled back to his own seat. Of course he was worried about her, he hated how much pain she had to go through for their baby to come, but he was happy that they would be going to the hospital soon to have their baby - whether it was before midnight or not.

-

“Alright, seven minutes,” Jughead clapped his hands together as he walked over to Betty’s desk where she was sat with a grimace across her features as she gripped the arm rests of her chair, breathing out through her teeth. “Couldn’t quite make it to midnight but that’s okay, we’ll just get you settled at home after. Let me just grab the bag and then we’ll go.” He gently rested his hand on her arm before he turned to leave, though stopped when her hand reached out to grab his arm.

“No no, slow down Jug. I’m okay we don’t have to go yet.” Betty breathed out, and Jughead couldn’t help but frown in confusion and concern.

“What? Betty, no, we need to go.” He shook his head with a frown, becoming increasingly worried that they would be putting it off for too long. Jughead was well aware of how stubborn Betty could be, especially over something like their insurance, but he really didn’t think that it was such a big deal that they wouldn’t get as much time in the hospital as they had liked. He would just settle Betty comfortably in their bedroom when they got home with the bassinet for the baby. He didn’t really get why it was such a big deal to stay at the hospital.

“No, Jug, we can wait a little longer. It’s okay,” She managed to smile a little once her contraction had passed, reaching out to gently take his hand with a gentle squeeze. “The doctor said anywhere between five to seven minutes. We’ve still got time.”

Jughead stared at her for a moment before he sighed and reluctantly gave in, knowing there wasn’t any persuading Betty once she was being stubborn about something. If there was anything he had learnt about his wife after being with her for a good couple of years, it was that she was even more stubborn than him. And that was saying something.

“Fine,” Jughead sighed and nodded. “Fine, we’ll leave at five minutes. But no later, okay? I’m serious, Betty.”

“Of course. Five minutes.” Betty smiled.

Jughead exhaled and nodded as he squeezed her hand again before he sat back in his seat at his desk beside hers, trying to focus back on his work. But he could barely pay attention, glancing back at his wife every few minutes; and practically staring at her with a frown when she had another contraction that left her wincing as she leaned back in her seat.

“Stop staring at me,” Betty breathed out as she met his gaze, her hands cradling her enlarged belly. “I’m fine don’t worry.”

“Okay crazy,” Jughead scoffed as he rolled his eyes. “I think I have some better things to do with my day than worry about you. Like sell printers. Well, now ‘till Friday; twenty percent off all toner cartridges. That’s a big deal. While we’re on the subject why don’t I just run you down to the hospital?”

“Nice try,” Betty shot a finger gun at him, smiling a little more as her husband shook his head irritably. “Five minutes apart, sweetie.”

“Yeah five minutes apart I know.” Jughead grumbled in annoyance, the tapping of his fingers against his keyboard becoming harsher and louder as he grew more irritated.

“Hey, guys,” Archie wheeled over on his seat from across the office, one hand on his arm rest as the other - which was still in a cast - rested in his lap. “Word of advice, speaking as a former baby. Don’t get too hung up on baby names. I was named Walter Jr. named after my great grandfather, until I was about six or so when my cousin was born, and my family changed their mind. They thought my cousin better exemplified the Walter Jr. name so they gave it to him, and I was renamed Archibald out of a baby names book from like the eighteenth century. How cool is that?”

Betty and Jughead blinked and glanced at each other for a moment, trying to process what Archie had just told them, before Jughead nodded as he turned to face him again. “Thanks, Arch. We’ll be careful about it.” He nodded, and Archie grinned at him as he nodded to.

“Oh my god, Betty,” Veronica gasped as she came over, standing beside Archie as she rested her hand over her chest. “You are such a strong and brave woman. Did you know that you could be in labour for like twenty hours? That’s twenty hours of pain like this-“

“Veronica?” Jughead cleared his throat.

“-and your hair and teeth can fall out, like you could lose them all-“

“Veronica.” Jughead repeated a little firmer.

“-and the baby can get stuck and hurt and you can like pass out and bleed really bad-“

“Thank you Veronica for letting us know!” Jughead spoke loudly, causing Veronica to jump and shut up immediately. “Don’t you guys have some work to do?” He shot an irritated glare towards her and Archie, which caused them to just nod before they retreated to their own desks. He looked back at Betty and frowned when he saw her scared expression, reaching across the desk to take her hand. “Hey, that’s not gonna happen with us. You’re already pretty far along. Far enough along to get going already-“

“Jug it’s not happening.” Betty told him, and he rolled his eyes, but frowned when she groaned quietly and clutched at her belly again.

“Okay, baby time!” Reggie stepped out of his office and clapped his hands, a grin over his expression as he walked over towards Betty and Jughead’s desk.

“No, we aren’t going yet.” Betty got out through gritted teeth, and Jughead just sighed as he looked at her, his bottom lip being brought between his teeth for a moment as he started to get a little frustrated.

“Okay, well do you want a distraction to keep you from thinking about it?” Reggie asked, and Jughead practically shot daggers at him as his eye twitched slightly in annoyance.

“Actually, Reggie-“

“Yes please.” Betty cut Jughead off, smiling at Reggie some as Jughead gripped the armrest of his chair tight enough for his fingers to dent the cheap rubber covering it.

“Okay great. Uhm, Jughead and Veronica will you guys go in the break room with her?” Reggie asked as he gestured to Betty, and Jughead had to clamp his jaw to keep from expressing how irritated he was as he stood up and took her arms to help her up and to walk her to the break room along with Veronica.

“Betty, I have this brilliant movie on my laptop we can watch together since Archie doesn’t want to watch it with me. It’s got Leonardo DiCaprio in it; total bae, I know.” Veronica grinned as herself and Jughead helped Betty into one of the seats in the break room beside the many vending machines they had in there.

Once Betty had smiled and nodded Veronica left to get her laptop from her desk, leaving Betty and Jughead alone as he moved to sit beside her.

“You’re annoyingly stubborn, you know that?” He asked her, and she just fondly shook her head as she took his hand.

“You still love me though.” She told him with a smile as she leaned over to kiss his cheek.

Jughead chose to sit with Betty and Veronica to watch the movie, just to make sure Betty was okay and to sit with her through the contractions. At some point Reggie had joined them, which only made Jughead more irritated at his attempt to talk Betty through her contractions, which we’re just extremely annoying.

“Alright, you’re at six minutes apart, another like seventy-five contractions and you’re going to be there.” Reggie told Betty with a grin, earning an irritated look from the couple and a sharp “shh!“ from Veronica who was extremely interested in the movie.

“Six minutes is close enough to five. You know what? I’m just going to call Doctor Keller he’ll know what to do.” Jughead stood up, extremely worried and irritated as he let go of Betty’s hand to grab his cell phone out of his pocket.

“Jug-“

“No Betty we should probably call-“

“Honey we don’t even need to go yet-“

“Actually yes I think we do-“

“Guys can you shut up I’m still watching this movie.”

“Yeah Jug you’re really distracting me from my distraction right now. Sweetie, I love you, but I’m trying to watch this movie.” Betty spoke a little louder over Jughead’s worried rambling, causing his jaw to clench and his eye to twitch in irritation again as he looked at his wife. “Why don’t you try and go do some work?”

“Great,” Jughead nodded with a sarcastic smile. “Of course. I’m sorry for worrying about my wife who’s going into labour.” He huffed as he walked out of the break room, leaving Betty with Veronica and Reggie to watch the movie.

Though instead of going back to his desk he walked straight past it and towards the exit of the office, ignoring Bret’s complaint that he wasn’t working as he quickly went down the stairs and left the building to head towards his car. He unlocked it and got inside, rooting around in one of the bags they kept in the back seat until he found what he was looking for; four pregnancy books.

“Five to seven minutes,” Jughead mumbled as he flipped through the first book, before he tossed it into the back seat and opened the next one. “Five to seven minutes,” He repeated, the next book being thrown. “Six minutes; different, but not really,” He huffed before he opened the next one. “Five to seven minutes.” He groaned and dropped his head down to rest on the steering wheel, though flinched and sat back up when he had accidentally beeped the car horn.

He sat down there on his own for a good five minutes before he heard a light tapping on the car window, and looked up to see Betty stood there. She motioned for him to roll down the car window and he quickly did so, leaning his arm on the door of the car afterwards.

“Hey,” She smiled. “I’m not going to get into the car because I know you’ll try and drive me to the hospital.”

“Ah, you know me too well.” Jughead nodded, fiddling with his tie as he looked up at his wife.

“Jug?”

“Hm?”

“Everything is fine, okay?” Betty smiled reassuringly. “I’m okay, we still have time, she isn't coming for a while yet.”

Jughead froze as Betty did, his mouth dropping open slightly as he met her gaze. “She?” He whispered.

“Oh god I’m sorry,” Betty clamped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. “I called the doctor last week, I just couldn’t wait. Are you mad?”

“Mad?” Jughead’s voice broke as he smiled uncontrollably, reaching his hand out of the car to grasp his wife’s gently. “How could I be mad? We’re having a little girl,” He nodded a little as his vision grew slightly blurry, tears collecting along his waterline. “Really?” He asked, and was met with a teary smile from his wife that matched his own as she giggled.

“Yeah,” Betty smiled brightly. “We’re having a baby girl.”

Jughead let out a light laugh and nodded, his smile only widening as he lifted his hand to run over his eyes before he leaned out of the car enough to hug Betty, pressing a kiss against her shoulder. Originally he had wanted to wait until the baby was born to find out the gender. He had refused multiple times when the doctor had asked, not wanting to find out prematurely, but he couldn’t even be the slightest bit unhappy that Betty had let it slip early, the emotions that were running through him in that moment were indescribable; he couldn’t wait to find out how much better it would feel once the baby was born. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Jug.” Betty whispered, gently hugging him back before she let him go so he could lean back into the car.

“Okay, I’m gonna go back upstairs, okay?”

“Okay.” Jughead nodded and smiled as he gave her a once over, but paused when he saw what she was wearing. Before he had left the office she was in her usual attire; a skirt and a jumper. But now she was wearing a pair of maternity leggings and one of his hoodies, an outfit he knew that she kept in the office just in case. “Did you change outfits?”

“Oh yeah, my water broke so I had to.” Betty shrugged before she turned to go back into the office.

“Oh right.” Jughead nodded as he sat back in his seat, still thinking about the baby more than anything else. Though once he had processed what Betty said he sat up and looked over at her just as she was walking back inside. “Wait what?”

-

Jughead had been pacing outside of the break room where Betty was with Reggie for what felt like hours, though in reality it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes. He knew if he was in there then he would just stress Betty out more with his (rational) worrying, so he opted to stand outside. Though it was definitely worse out there; having to listen to Betty in pain and Reggie’s annoying talks through it was really just setting him even more on edge.

“Okay, that’s fine, almost made it to midnight but you should probably go to the hospital now.” Reggie was saying as Betty groaned again. “Too bad you didn’t have sex like… seven and a half hours later. But you had to have the afternoon delight, I understand, sometimes you just have to go for it.”

“N-no, I’m fine, the doctor said it’s s-still considered a minor contraction as long as I can still talk through it-” Betty barely forced the words out shakily before she groaned, causing Jughead to immediately walk into the room with a frown.

“Okay, Betty we really should go.”

“No, it’s fine,” Betty started as Jughead walked over to her, shaking her head. “That wasn’t even the worst of them, no-” She started rambling as Jughead took one of her arms and Reggie took the other to try and get her out of the seat.

“Betty come on.”

“No, no Jug it’s fine-”

“We should really go now-”

Everyone started talking at once as the men tried their hardest to pull a struggling Betty out of the seat before she scowled and shook her head harshly. “No!” She yelled, tugging her arms away harsh enough for them both to let go of her. “No! No I am not going yet! I’m not going okay? I’m not going because I can’t do this I don’t think I can do this.” Betty’s voice broke as she started crying, her lip trembling as her vision blurred with unshed tears.

Jughead’s gaze softened as he looked at her, a frown curving his lips downwards as her voice filled him with sadness and sympathy for his wife.

“Are you kidding me?” He asked softly as he crouched in front of her chair, taking one of her trembling hands in his as she sniffled in front of him. “Betty, you are the strongest person I know. If anybody can do this then you can, okay?” Jughead asked softly, and she nodded tearily in response. “I’m scared, love, I’m so scared. But this little girl is going to be the luckiest baby out there because she has the best mother in the whole damn world.”

“You’re having a girl? Really? Guys, I wanted to be surprised what the hell?” Reggie complained from across the room.

Jughead only rolled his eyes and chose to ignore him as he turned back to Betty. “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do; we’re going to get our bag, go down to the car and drive to the hospital, and then we’ll have our beautiful baby girl. Okay?” Jughead squeezed her hand when she nodded and smiled as he stood up to kiss her forehead softly.

“Thank’s Jug.” Betty whispered as she looked at her husband.

Jughead nodded before he turned to look at Reggie, clearing his throat. “How’re we doing on contractions?”

“Two minutes.”

“Two- two minutes?” Jughead asked, a glare quickly being sent to Reggie as frustration quickly bubbled up inside of him. “I thought I said to let me know at five minutes- what good is two minutes that’s too late two minutes doesn’t help us! What happened to four and three minutes huh?” Jughead started rambling as he helped Betty out of her seat who was starting to get worked up again.

“Jug we can still drive-” Betty started, stopping his rambling for a moment, before she gasped and almost fell over at the intensity of her next contraction, groaning as she gripped onto Jughead’s hand tightly.

Jughead frowned and held her up, his free hand rubbing her back as she started crying again. Reggie, who was clearly flustered and not too sure what to do, grabbed Betty’s jacket from the chair and helped Jughead lead Betty out of the room as her contraction started to past.

“It’s go time people!” Reggie yelled across the office, letting Jughead hold Betty up completely as he walked out in front of the whole office. “Veronica call an ambulance!”

“No, ambulances are for emergencies only,” Bret spoke up with a glare. “You call an ambulance I call the cops.”

“We’re driving it’s fine,” Jughead spoke up as he carefully helped Betty sit down at her desk chair, gently pressing a kiss to the crown of her head in hopes of keeping her calm. “I’m just going to grab the bag and we can go, okay?” He asked softly and Betty nodded as she gave him a tearful smile. “Okay.” He gave her arm one last squeeze as he quickly jumped up and practically ran across the office to where they were keeping the bag in one of the cabinets in the kitchen, his heart racing a million miles an hour in the panic and excitement (though mostly panic) that their baby was on the way very soon.

By the time he was back in the main office area everyone was in a panic: Reggie was running around packing his own go bag for some reason, Veronica was squealing excitedly about getting to meet her godchild (they had picked her as the baby’s godmother a few weeks ago and she still hadn’t gotten over it), and even Bret was up and out of his seat, talking to Reggie quickly.

“Okay, we’re ready,” Jughead tried to smile as reassuring as he could towards his wife as he walked back over to her seat with the bag over his shoulders, taking her hands to help her stand up. “Are you good to go-”

“This is ridiculous,” Bret cut him off as he walked over. “Has anyone even checked how dilated she is yet?” As he spoke he pulled out a tape measure and kneeled on the floor in front of Betty.

“Bret!” Jughead and Betty gasped at the same time as he opened the tape measure.

“Bret are you serious?” Reggie scoffed as he walked over. “Give it to Jughead that’s his job.”

As Bret held the tape measure up to give it to Jughead he rolled his eyes and pushed it away, instead moving his hands to his pockets frantically as he started to just freak out further.

“Has anyone seen my keys- where are my keys?” He shouted, before he reached into his trouser pockets and sighed as he pulled them out. “Got them.”

As he started leading Betty out of the room he managed a genuine smile as everyone in the office started shouting goodbye and good luck, and he felt a little relieved when he saw Betty was smiling too. He gave everyone a big wave before he took both of her hands again and led her out of the room and into the elevator so that they could leave.

The whole drive there Jughead kept her hand in his free one, letting her squeeze it as tightly as she needed through contractions and constantly ran his thumb over her knuckles to try and soothe her somewhat. He truthfully was terrified, but wanted to get Betty there as calmly as possible. He didn’t have time to panic about it, as much as he wanted to, he just had to settle with the constant thumping of his heart until they pulled into the hospital and he ran out to grab her a wheelchair.

“We’re here now, okay? Everything is going to go perfect, Betty. We’re going to meet our baby girl soon.” Jughead assured her as he helped her into the wheelchair with a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you, Jug.” Betty smiled as she reached back to take his hand as he wheeled her to the door.

“I love you, too.” He smiled.

There were two doctors at the door waiting, and as they had offered to help her inside Jughead squeezed her hand before he let it go. “I’m just going to park the car, I promise I’ll be back in a minute.” He told her as one of the doctors started wheeling her inside, and smiled at her until he couldn’t see her anymore.

Jughead got back in the car and took a few minutes to find a parking space, though once he had he sat in the car for a minute longer than needed. His fingers reached up to brush along the edge of the scan photo that was clipped to the mirror of the car, an easy smile sweeping across his lips as it took everything inside of him to not get emotional again. Even though he was still panicked and worried and terrified, he couldn’t help but take a moment to smile and breathe.

He was simply excited to meet their little girl, and that would be enough to keep him smiling forever if he could.

[takingcourage]

Color and Light

Characters: Thomas Mendez, MC (Allison), and MC’s daughter (Kira) 

Word Count: 2,400

Summary: With Luz away and Allison occupied for the morning, Thomas has a special strategy to pass the time with Kira. 

Note: I’ve been wanting to write a story about Thomas and MC’s daughter for ages. The lack of scenes between them is one of the very few complaints I have about MotY, so I thought I’d fill in a little bit of that gap with this fic. It was originally intended to fulfill a Choices August Challenge (kaleidoscope), but life got hectic in August and it this story was pushed to the back burner. All of that to say, the summer setting and inspiration for this story aren’t quite as random as they may seem. 

I hope you enjoy! Thanks so much for reading. : ) 

Crick. 

Crack. 

Thomas's stride broke as he became aware of the noise. Brow furrowing as he continued toward the kitchen, he mentally filtered through the possible causes: pipes, dishwasher, trash compactor... He was relatively certain that he hadn’t left anything running after making Allison’s coffee a half hour before. Whatever was happening in the kitchen must be taking place without his influence. 

Bracing himself, he rounded the corner. 

Though the room had no windows, the morning light still made its way into the space, relieving his fears before he'd even had a chance to flip the switch back on. 

Nothing.

There was no burst pipe, no invading animal waiting to jump out at him from the countertops, nothing at all out of the ordinary.

It was the ice maker, he realized in relief.

Thomas couldn’t recall the last time the house had been quiet enough for him to make out the background noises. With Luz around, there was always music or the television or the steady thud of soccer drills against the outside wall...With a quick shake of his head, he padded to the other end of the silent kitchen to brew a second carafe of coffee.

The air conditioner was working; he could hear the distinct hum from the upstairs unit keeping the house a pleasant 74 degrees. Soledad had chosen the best. Almost fifteen years in this house, and it had never needed more than routine maintenance to keep things perfectly cool. 

And yet, there was no mistaking the sheen breaking out on the back of his neck.

Stress had been mounting for the past twenty minutes -- ever since Allison had kissed him and slipped through the front door. Ordinarily, he'd be lacing his running shoes by now, determined to master the involuntary responses that his body was lapsing into. Today, he needed to work through it in another way.

Thomas glanced at the microwave clock, performing the calculations as he opened the refrigerator door to retrieve milk and a pair of eggs. Kira had gone to bed around 9:00 the night before. Based on the many nights she'd stayed over at the house since the start of summer, she’d wake up to join him any minute. Hot sweat returned with the confirmation.

This was hardly the first day he’d spent alone with a ten year old. It certainly wasn’t the only time he’d been with Kira without Allison there. But it was the first morning he’d spent without Luz serving as a buffer. Somehow, ten years of experience with one child hadn’t left him feeling prepared to take on the other. 

He was a lawyer and a recovering workaholic, for goodness sake -- hardly the sort of person a preteen girl wanted to spend the day with. 

Lowering the lid on the waffle maker, his eyes glazed over as the steam rose from between the metal plates. He bit down on the inside of his cheek, finally glancing away when the indicator light flickered on.

A creak sounded from the bottom of the stairs, and his heart flew into his throat. He cast a quick glance around the room before peering across the counter to the house’s other occupant. 

“Morning, Kira,” he greeted, voice sounding mostly normal. “How’d you sleep?” 

“Fine. That bunk bed is really comfortable."

“Great!” His response was a little too hasty. Pulling himself back, he topped off his mug of coffee, blew, and watched the wave ripple over the glassy surface. “I took a gamble and made some waffles for breakfast. Does that sound okay to you?”

Kira looked at the metal contraption with a curious half-smile. “It sounds delicious!”

“With orange juice?”

“Mmhmm, thank you,” she confirmed, already climbing onto a barstool. “Did my mom leave for class?”

Thomas snagged a plate from the overhead cabinet and used a pair of tongs to extract a perfectly golden-brown waffle from the mold. “She headed out about half an hour ago,” he answered before sliding her breakfast across the countertop.

Kira’s face puckered with disappointment. “She doesn’t usually leave so early; I thought I’d be up in time to see her.”

“She had to run an errand on the way," he explained. "Do you need to talk to her? You can borrow my phone if you want.”

Food forgotten, she set the syrup upright, its contents slowly oozing back down toward the bottom of the bottle. “That would be great! I wanted to wish her luck on her test.”

Passing her the device, he turned to give her some privacy. By the time he’d rinsed the mixing bowl and unplugged the waffle maker, Kira had composed the message. 

“Keep in in case she texts back,” he suggested, reaching for his coffee again.

“Thanks.” She went back to pouring syrup, alternating squares in the waffle until she’d achieved a checkerboard effect.

Concealing his raised brow, Thomas took another sip of his drink. The two girls could not be more different. With Luz, it was always a challenge to keep her from using half the bottle. Kira’s measured approach was far less troubling by comparison. If the girls already fought like real sisters, they complemented one another perfectly as well. He’d lost track of the number of times that one girl’s vice had been counteracted by the other’s virtue. 

Yet another sign that this is meant to be. 

The phone screen came to life before their eyes, and Kira tapped to view her mother’s message. “She got it in time.” With a grin, she handed it back to Thomas. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.” Based on the angle, there was no way for him to take it without casting an eye over the messages.

Good luck, mom! You’ve got this!⚡️

Thanks! Love you, kiddo. ⚡️

Something within him melted on reading the exchange, though the sensation was quickly replaced by something far less pleasant: fear.

Allison knew Kira so well. It was one of the things that had stood out to them when they’d first met, and it had only become more abundantly clear in the months that had followed. And while Guy didn’t take much of an interest in his daughter’s life, Kira still seemed to thrive on the time they spent together. In short, she already had two parents. Where did that leave him?

Sighing as he slide the phone back into his pocket, he walked around to the other side of the kitchen so he could join her at the counter.

“Thanks for making breakfast,” she acknowledged as he sat down. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“I wanted to. It’s not often that the two of us get to have time together.”

Kira met his eyes with an amused smile. "True, but Luz is going to be jealous when she finds out we had waffles.”

“We’ll make them again when she gets back,” he promised, feeling the anxiety stir his stomach again. Breakfast was easy. If the rest of the morning ran as smoothly, it would be a miracle.

Kira cut another bite and chewed thoughtfully. "You're really good at it. The machine my mom has always burns the middles. Yours are better,” she whispered, green eyes narrowing with the conspiratorial whisper.

“Maybe we should buy her a new machine one of these days.”

Swallowing her bite, Kira regarded him with a creased brow. “But she can just use yours -- we’re over all the time! And it would be silly to buy another one when you’re just going to get married.”

Thomas could only hope that the girl wasn't perceptive enough to notice the way his cheeks darkened at the suggestion. He forced a sip of coffee down and tried to counteract his mortification. “What makes you think we’re getting married?”

“Luz told me she found a ri--” her face froze. “Nevermind. I don’t know anything. Forget I said that.”

Sensing an opportunity, Thomas pressed her further. “Do you want us to get married?”

"Yeah." The corner of her mouth lifted as her eyes crinkled. “Mom’s really happy when she’s with you, and Luz and I would get to be sisters for real! It would be perfect.”

He smiled in agreement before deciding it would be prudent to change the subject. “How should we spend the rest of our morning?” 

Inadvertently, the question came just as she’d placed another forkful of waffle into her mouth. Thomas offered a repentant chuckle as she worked over the bite of food, though she didn’t seem to hold it against him.

“I brought a book,” she informed him after swallowing. “I can be super quiet while you’re working. Oh! Or do you have a case I can help with? I could read tracking numbers to you again if you want.”

“Actually,” he began, growing almost shy with the suggestion, “I was hoping you might be up for a science project today -- whatever you like.” He set his near-empty cup on the marble surface, hoping he hadn’t misstepped.  

“Really?” Her eyes flashed to life again, scrunching up at the corners in exactly the same way Allison’s did when she was passionate about something. Even if he’d never met her mother, the girl’s expression would have been impossible to resist. 

“Really. It would be fun to make something we can show your mom when she gets back this afternoon.”

“And Luz, when she gets back from soccer camp!”

“And Luz,” he added with a grin. He wondered vaguely if the two girls would be so eager to see each other once they were living under the same roof all of the time. “I’ll let you decide on a project while I clean up from breakfast. Doesn’t matter what it is.”

“Okay!” she took a pensive bite while he walked back around to the kitchen. “You’re sure it can be anything?”

“Uhhh,” he wavered, remembering too well the sorts of things that ten-year-old girls were capable of when there were no boundaries. It’s Kira, he had to remind himself. At worst, we’re looking at a bunsen-burner fire or some kind of mild chemical reaction. “Anything,” he confirmed after a pause. 

“Okay, I figured it out,” she announced moments later as he was wiping down the countertops.

“And...?”

“I wanna make a kaleidoscope!”

“Sounds perfect, though I think we’ll need to go on a supply run. Can you make a list?”

She held out one hand to begin ticking items on her fingers. “Well, I’ve already got confetti for the bottom. Faye gave me a bunch from one of her promo boxes and told me to use it for something cool. If we can run by our apartment, I know exactly where it is. After that, we’ll need some PVC pipe, mirrors, a glass cutter, a petri dish....” Still bending her fingers, she paused for further consideration. 

“You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?” 

“I’ve wanted to make one for forever!” Catching herself, she backpedaled a bit. “If you’re sure it’s okay...”

“I have one condition...” Squeezing the excess water from the towel, he draped it over the faucet to dry. Kira’s eyes were glued to him when he turned, her brows slanted with something approaching consternation. “You have to explain what you’re doing each step of the way so I know how it works.”

Her mouth fell open for a beat before snapping shut again. “Sure!”

This time, the smile that came to Thomas’s face was a little more confident. So far, so good.  

_____

For the next several hours, all worries were in vain. There were no awkward silences or stumbling uncertainties. Each minute was consumed with questions and explanations, safety tutorials for cutting glass, excited strategizing, and careful construction. They’d just started clearing up their lunch dishes when Allison’s key clicked in the lock. 

“Mom!” Kira rushed to finish loading her plate in the dishwasher. “How was your test?” Her whole face was lifted in anticipation. 

“I passed with a 96%.”

“You’re so smart, mom!”

Retrieving the elastic band from her wrist, Allison swept her hair into a loose bun at the nape of her neck. “And you’re so sweet. Thanks for the energy zap this morning.”

“Welcome! Do you wanna see what Thomas and I made?”

At Allison’s eager nod, Kira led her to the den. Thomas stayed behind until the rest of the dishes were in the machine, content to hear their lively chatter a couple of rooms away. 

When he joined them, Allison was waiting by the arched doorway. “Kira’s never going to forget this. I can’t thank you enough.”

"The pleasure was mine. And I have to admit, it was a very educational day for me. I didn’t realize how rusty I’d gotten in geometry and physics.”

“She’ll keep your mind sharp, that one.”

“One of the many perks to having the two of you around.”

“Ooh! Look at this!” Kira called out in the closest thing to a shriek that he’d ever heard from her. “The pattern is sooo cool. It looks like a gamma-ray burst!”

Taking the proffered object, he held it to his eye and squinted until he had a proper view. Between the mirrors and the lights, Faye’s bits of paper had taken on new life in a pattern that was at once both uniform and wild. And though he had only the faintest idea what a gamma-ray burst looked like, satisfaction took hold of him as he gazed through the tiny opening.

Since her birth, Luz had been his light. She’d carried him through on the days when he hadn’t even been certain he wanted to go on. For a time, that light had been all he’d needed. But Allison and Kira had brought more to the equation: a beauty, a vibrance, a curiosity and passion for life that he hadn’t even realized he’d been missing. Together, the three of them made for a fuller world than he had ever thought possible. 

“Did you know they’re the brightest explosions in the universe?”

“I didn’t,” he whispered, careful not to shift the design as he passed the cylinder back to Kira. 

Thomas settled next to Allison, her shoulder a comfortable weight against his while they listened to the enthusiastic science lesson that followed. As her fingers sought his, Thomas’s thoughts drifted (ever so slightly) to the ring Luz had found a few days before. If all went the way he was hoping, his home -- and his life -- would never be colorless again. 

[delvalentine]

draft dump

once upon a time i had a plot bunny for a school genshin au in which the adults were teachers in a modern setting, and mc/reader was a TA working with them

i won't be revisiting that but it would be a waste to send the first draft to the void so here that is!

“And that brings our little guided tour to an end.” Mr. Zhongli turned around once reaching the front door, smiling languidly. “I hope it wasn’t too much to take in at once.” “No, I think I got everything.” You shoved the notepad deeper into your purse, taking a steadying breath. “Thanks for showing me around before orientation. It was really helpful.” “It was nothing. I do hope you’ll like it at our school, Ms. [Surname]. If there’s anything you’re unsure about, feel free to ask me—and if I’m not around, seeking out the vice principal should suffice.”

He caught your soured expression and chuckled deeply. The VP—Mr. Xiao—was not quite as amiable as the headmaster before you. You had tried to make a good impression by being polite, but the slender man had merely scowled through you like you’d insulted his mother’s mother or something. The memory of his scathing glare made your cheeks burn.

“He may be temperamental, but he’s unmatched at his work. Just try to catch him in a good mood and you’ll be fine.” You weren’t sure Xiao would know what a good mood looked like if it hit him in the face, but you brushed it off. The infrastructure here was breathtaking—as you’d expect from a boarding school so deeply steeped in history and so well-funded. Royal Celestia School, aptly named after the heavens, for there was no other institution so highly regarded in all of Teyvat. Graduates that called RCS their alma mater went on to forge great paths of success. Only the best of the best got to attend. Its newest hire: yourself, of course. You had applied for their TA position amongst many others, not really thinking you’d get it fresh out of post-secondary or anything. It didn’t hurt to try. But when you got the callback, you had to wonder if you had died and gone to heaven yourself.

“Now forgive my memory, but I seem to have forgotten who you told me you’ll be working with.”

Zhongli wasn’t just the principal—he was the founder of the whole shebang. He was as top brass as you could get, here, and he looked the part. Despite his age, he was incredibly sharp in his copper-black suit, and those warm honey-gold eyes weren’t helping with the whole tall-dark-and-handsome thing. Attractive looks aside, he was the overseer of all administrative operations, though rumour has it he was quite… spacey at his job. If anybody needed an assistant, it’d be him.

Xiao, the second in command, left a far less sweet taste in your mouth. You noticed the dragons tattooed on his arm in an impressive sleeve first, and the deeply beautiful look of calm second. It was as soon as he opened his mouth that he ruined it all. He was snappy and peevish. If Zhongli hadn’t been with you, he might very well have eaten you alive.

Speaking of grumpy men—Dr. Ragnvinder. You’d never had entirely good experiences with math teachers, and he was the living embodiment of all those hauntingly long questions you’d cried over on long nights. According to Zhongli, Diluc Ragnvinder was the one of the youngest in the teaching department to hold a PhD. During your meeting, he was nothing but cold and brief despite his fiery red hair and eyes. You loathed to think of how he’d crack down on you for not grasping a topic.

In stark contrast, Mr. Alberich was far more easy-going, if not a tad bit… seductive. He had a certain way of phrasing things with innuendo that kept you second guessing yourself, and if you weren’t careful, he’d easily take you off your feet. No wonder he specialized in the arts of literature. How you would’ve liked him to read excerpts to you in that suggestive tone of his.

Ms. Lisa had seemed to be cut of the same cloth, leaning in so close to you that you could smell the perfume wafting off the skin of her neck. The librarian oversaw one of the outlandishly largest collections of books you had ever seen in your life. (It wasn’t the only big set you’d noticed.) She invited you back with a smile, though it seemed less an invitation and more a given task to see her again.

Zhongli had then taken you to the theatre, equally as massive and ornate. You could imagine full opera shows occurring rather than silly school plays. Private school kids were a different breed entirely. Inside, a pair of men were practicing something together. There, you met Venti, who insisted you call him by first name alone. Beside him was the taller, leaner man named Childe, who assured you it wasn’t his real name, but that was a secret of the trade. Venti had a voice of an angel and played a lyre so daintily you were almost moved to tears. It was no surprise he taught music. And Childe, whose mere presence made you feel like he was putting on some sort of show, oversaw drama.

Next door was the gymnasium, which, once again, wowed you with its size. Perhaps Zhongli was hoping to train generations of Olympic athletes-slash-artists-slash-geniuses? A hearty dark-haired woman took you in with great familiarity, shaking your hand and inviting you to drinks before you’d even managed to introduce yourself properly. With the force Beidou had exerted in a mere handshake, you were afraid to think about being under her training regime in physical education.

A far more sobering presence, Ms. Ningguang looked to have the same stable ethereality as Zhongli did. As an educator of finance, you’d heard that she had single-handledly changed the entire stock market just to prove a point in her lecture. You had made a note to ask her about your taxes.

Keqing next door taught geography. Her classroom had been lined with maps and globes, each marked with such numerous and precise points that you felt like you couldn’t even recognize what each place was. She spoke to you with succinctness, like everything she said was pre-determined and you had better understand what she meant <i>or else</i>. But she was fairly warm in comparison to the men of earlier, and you’d take what you could get.

A room with even more clutter was Dr. Mona’s. Contraptions like Newton’s cradles, plasma domes, lava lamps, and even a wall-to-wall Ruth Goldberg machine made your head spin. Her eccentricity was clue enough to her role as a science teacher. Somehow in your short conversation, she managed to boast about herself a total of six separate times, but Zhongli quietly assured you that her claims weren’t unfounded. She was confident and intelligent, her blue eyes sparkling with knowledge. Spending a day with her sounded exhausting but thrilling.

The last classroom Zhongli showed you to was Jean’s, who was a startling calm presence right after exiting Mona’s Wonderland. She was a history teacher, well versed in lore and social sciences, and you couldn’t help but feel warm and fuzzy just talking to her.

“Well?” Zhongli nudged as you thought back on your day. “Which professor were you to help out with?” You answered…

[autumnwoodsdreamer]

Photographs (August 2168)

.....

Characters: Balthazar Cavendish, Vinnie Dakota, Savannah (mentioned)

Rating: G

Words: 2302

Genre: Friendship

Summary: On their first day (officially) working together, Cavendish starts to realize there’s more to Dakota than meets the eye...

.....

Balthazar Cavendish had only met Vinnie Dakota twice so far: first when he rudely barged into his student time vehicle and then the next day when fate twisted again and assigned them as partners.

It had been a week since that whole incident and today they were to receive their first (official) assignment. Vinnie suggested they carpool and drive over to the Bureau together; still nursing the bruises from the last time he was relegated to the passenger seat, Balthazar insisted he would drive.

Vinnie lived clear on the other side of the city—a 20 minute drive from Balthazar’s apartment near the east hills (well, 20 minutes by airway, but closer to 30 if traffic forced him to travel by road, as it did today). Although the prospect of a lengthy commute annoyed him, he supposed the distance could be a good thing as it lessened the likelihood of them running into each other outside of work.

As he drove, he found his spirits caught in a strange mix of both burning optimism and ice-cold dread. While he couldn’t deny that saving the day and working with a partner had been extremely exciting, that element of unpredictability still bothered him.

He didn’t like things he couldn’t control; he never had. The high regard he held for order and precision had enabled him to play piano with astounding technical accuracy and to learn and practise law with a keen certainty. When he had first shifted his attention to studying time travel, he was sure his eye for detail and reverence for rules would make him a fine agent; now, in light of recent events, he couldn’t help but wonder if it would be enough...

He reached the address Vinnie had described over the phone and decided it would be best to pack his niggling doubts away in a proverbial box and leave it on a very high shelf for the time being.

He parked on the street, got out the car, straightened his attire, and paused for a moment to take in the scene. This part of town was built well over a century ago and the majority of its inhabitants occupied that odd but plentiful bracket of the lower end of middle class. Vinnie’s apartment building stood in a row of similar, blockish structures, all of which boasted bare bricks and wrought iron fire escapes and stood somewhere between eight and twelve storeys high. Altogether, it seemed a pleasant neighbourhood but Balthazar thought it better suited to struggling artists or the blue-collar crowd rather than a Time Agent.

He found and rang the bell for the apartment listed under Vinnie Dakota. Enough time passed that he considered ringing again when the intercom crackled on and a tired voice greeted him.

“What’s up, chicken butt?”

“I beg your pardon?!”

“Oh, hey!” Vinnie exclaimed. “Mr Banana! How ya doin’?”

“It’s Cavendish,” Balthazar corrected, icily.

“Oh, right. Cavendish, banana—eh, that’s just how my mind works. Sorry. Hang on, I’ll buzz you in.”

“I can just wait out h—” he began but the intercom clicked off and the door unlocked before he could finish. With a resigned sigh, he entered the building.

He took the elevator to the seventh floor, then it was “just down the hall, take the first left, and it’s the third door to your right. Ya can’t miss it.” Well, Vinnie had been right about that: it was the only door covered in stickers.

“My friend went to Hawaii and all he got me was this lousy sticker,” lamented a disproportionate pineapple wearing sunglasses and surfing a wave. Another portrayed the Eiffel Tower with a moustache and a beret bidding “Bon voyage!” A variety of stickers brought greetings from Italy, Tokyo, Cape Town, Sydney, and other capital cities around the world (most with their old names no one used anymore, Balthazar noted). Dotted about the place were depictions of random objects like a ukulele and some kind of car, some were types of food like pizza and kebabs, but he couldn’t miss the fact that most were cartoonish caricatures of extinct creatures he had only seen pictures of in textbooks.

Distracted by the odd collage, Balthazar jumped back when the door opened without warning.

“C’mon in, Stretch,” Vinnie beckoned, bringing his hand up to just barely cover a loud yawn as he stepped aside to allow his guest in. “Make yourself at home; I’ll be with you as soon as I find my jacket.”

Balthazar glanced over his new partner’s attire and pointedly cleared his throat.

Vinnie closed the door behind them and turned around, frowning in confusion when he caught sight of the other man’s disapproving expression. He looked down and only then seemed to register that he was only wearing a faded T-shirt and boxers. “Oh. And my pants. Probably need those, too.”

Balthazar crossed his arms. “You should be dressed by now. This is highly unprofessional.”

“Hey! I am dressed!” Vinnie protested. “Just not for work. And, in the future, if you’re gonna get all high and mighty, the least you could do is warn a guy when you’re gonna be a whole hour early!”

“I am not—!” Balthazar began but cut himself off when he caught sight of an analog clock on a bookshelf. In preparing to travel to the past, he had had to learn to read those: both hands pointing down meant 6:30.

He consulted his own watch and his face went red. “Oh, blast it!” he muttered, hotly, as he started fiddling with the settings. “I forgot I had this infernal contraption set an hour ahead!”

“What? You on daylight savings time or something?”

“Pardon?”

“Daylight sa—never mind. It was a thing over a century ago.”

“I set it an hour ahead last week because of my driving test,” Balthazar explained, trying not to sound too sheepish.

Vinnie raised an eyebrow, his expression suddenly turning as serious as it had been when he saw those kids in danger. “Are you that bad at keeping time?”

He quickly shook his head. “Hardly ever; I just really didn’t want to chance being even the slightest bit late for my final exam.”

“You know there’s such a thing as too early, right?”

“I don’t believe so; no.”

There was a moment wherein he thought Vinnie was going to argue the point, but he just shrugged and waved a dismissive hand. “Like I said: make yourself at home, I’ll just be a few minutes,” he said and peeled away.

Balthazar intended to remain in the one spot; he had finished resetting his watch but still felt like a complete idiot and didn’t want to risk any further gaffes. But his curiosity got the better of him and he soon found himself wandering (well, he did have permission...)

He had to admit he held a few preconceived ideas of what the home of Vinnie Dakota might look like. He’d only met the man briefly, but he seemed rather committed to his reckless, blasé attitude and he could only imagine such a person living in a slovenly, malodorous nest.

That was not the case.

The apartment was small and cramped and cluttered, but it wasn’t dirty. There was a strong, unusual smell hanging in the air; although Balthazar couldn’t identify it, it wasn’t all that unpleasant—actually, it reminded him of those old-fashioned restaurants he used to play piano in.

The bookshelf he noticed earlier caught his eye again; this time, he took note of the colourful array of books stacked and lined on the shelves as well as the diverse collection of trinkets, souvenirs, and gadgets. The objects were displayed with little rhyme or reason regarding their order: snow-globes of all kinds and shapes mingled amongst Chinese fans and Russian nesting dolls and defunct devices such as a camcorder, a dial telephone, and a zoetrope. Balthazar didn’t fail to notice that, although most of those things would be considered antiques, they were all in fairly new condition.

After a few minutes, he took a step back and his attention quickly shifted from the bookshelf to the hundreds of photographs in mismatched frames covering the walls, so much so that one could barely glimpse the bright yellow wallpaper beneath. The quality of the photographs varied from grainy, black and white to slightly washed-out, sepia tone to clear and vibrantly coloured.

Balthazar knew his new partner had been a Time Agent for a while already; it was the Bureau’s policy to pair new recruits with full-fledged agents. But knowing this man had already been on missions throughout time and actually seeing snapshots of that career were two very different things.

Quite a few of the photographs showcased places and buildings in different time periods, positioned side by side to highlight the changes through the years; a number featured archaic machines and devices, and more of those extinct creatures (except this time they were real, not just cartoonish representations); but, most notably, the majority of the photographs were candid shots of people.

After casually examining the photos for a few minutes, Balthazar began to register a few recurrent faces. The most notable subject was a young man with olive skin, dark hair, and a short but lean frame; always wearing tinted shades of some sort, always caught in the middle of a laugh or striking a silly pose—without the wild shock of curls, it took him quite a while to identify him as a younger Vinnie. Often pictured alongside him either mirroring the silly pose or with his hand on his shoulder was a much taller, older man with dark blue hair and weathered skin; if it weren’t for the fact they lacked any physical similarity, Balthazar would’ve assumed the man was Vinnie’s father. Wherever the older man was absent, a young woman with a dark, flawless complexion and glossy, violet hair took his place—there were hardly any instances of her smiling and she didn’t seem to care for Vinnie’s antics at all but she must not have completely disliked him as there was one photo of her curled up and asleep in the backseat of a Time Vehicle with her head resting on his shoulder.

There was only one photograph with all three of them. It seemed to be after a mission of some sort. They all looked dog-tired, covered in bruises and dirt, but they still managed smiles for the camera, holding their heads up even as they leaned on each other for support. The muted colouring of the photograph suggested it had been taken somewhere around the mid-1900’s but Balthazar hadn’t honed his skills enough to pinpoint precisely when. Most of interest was a small note accompanying the photograph in the frame; it was just a scrap of paper, presumably torn from a cheap notebook and not at all remarkable save for the short message scrawled on it:

To Vinnie and Silvia,

Count every moment and make every moment count,

Emit Relevart

The Hot War Mission (1964 / 2164)

“‘Hot War’?” Balthazar read aloud, his face crumpling in confusion. “What the deuce is—?”

“It’s everything the Cold War wasn’t.”

Balthazar gasped and jumped backwards, a hand flying up to clutch his chest. “Kidney pie and chips!” he exclaimed. “Don’t do that!”

A now more appropriately dressed Vinnie gave him a sideways glance. “Well, that’s one way to keep it PG,” he remarked with an utterly infuriating bemused smirk. He let out a soft huff of a laugh and gave a small shake of his head as he returned his gaze to the photograph.

Balthazar opened his mouth, ready to say quite a few things—such as “What does ‘PG’ mean?” and “Don’t sneak up on people!”—but the words stopped in his throat.

Something flashed across Vinnie’s expression, something even the bulky sunglasses with their vibrant tint couldn’t hide; it was only there for the briefest of moments but Balthazar didn’t miss it. He’d seen it before, on the faces of complete strangers who gathered whenever he played an old, slow melody on the piano in the middle of the city square.

He turned his attention back to the picture one last time. He couldn’t quite determine if it was the people or the referenced occasion, but he got the sense this was an important piece of Vinnie. He made it a point to commit the little message to memory—what it would accomplish, well, he wasn’t so sure in that regard, but it felt too significant to miss.

Vinnie cleared his throat; the sound was abrupt but Balthazar was aware of his surroundings enough this time around not to jump again. “So,” he said, his smile and easy demeanour returning in a flash, “seeing as we have a whole hour to kill, how’s about we get some breakfast?”

Balthazar crossed his arms and put on a glare that was only half-strength. “I hope you’re not planning to kidnap me and drag me to the early 2000’s just for omelettes.”

He seemed to consider that for a second before shaking his head. “I can’t think of any good places for omelettes... not in the 2000’s, anyway. Nah, I was just gonna make something.” He whirled around and headed for the kitchen. “You like pancakes?”

“You actually know how to cook?”

Vinnie shrugged. “Eh, I picked up a few things here and there. It comes in handy when you travel to time periods that don’t have auto-preppers.”

“And yet you still felt it necessary to hijack my Time Vehicle and travel back over a century just to get lunch?” Balthazar raised an eyebrow.

Vinnie shot his new partner a lopsided smirk. “You’re not gonna let that one go, are you, Stretch?”

[star-captain]

So Much Better

Angst? Yes please! I’ve had the honor to give Red’s au life, to create a story around his amazing artwork. And I can’t help but latch onto the dramatic scene of Edolas Mumbo meeting his Hermit self. 

The Edolas team has found themselves in the Hermit world, and are meeting people with the same face, but different personality. Edolas Mumbo’s insecurities rise and boil over when he comes face to face with a better version of himself.

Edolas AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland

Warning: Alcoholism, Violence, drug mention

It’s been some time since the hermits have been open to visitors from other worlds. A new world can be stressful, and it’s best just to keep to themselves while they sort it all out. Better to deal with their own chaos before adding in someone else’s. But eventually, trouble finds them. 

From the Edolas world, it was just natural to explore what’s beyond. Xisuma makes it impossible not to be curious about what’s on the other side of his crazy portals he macgyvers together. And when Scar ultimately pushes Mumbo in, Grian has to jump after. Everyone else follows in after, with Impulse being dragged in last by an overzealous Zedaph. Black ground bursts out from the portal, massive stone pillars capturing the energy of floating crystals between the tongs. Purple mist swirls beneath the glass at their feet, every so often lightning snapping across the cloudy air. 

“Oh, that definitely didn’t take long.” Scar chuckles, peering over the nether portal. “Though I definitely was expecting visitors of the more...pig variety.” 

“Scar?” Edolas Grian coos, tilting his head and looking at the man above the crowd. He has the exact same face, the same voice as Scar, but he acts completely different. He’s...well, he’s cheery, friendly. 

“That’s not me man.” Edolas Scar growls, looking at the dopey version of himself before him. 

“Aha! I knew it! Alternate Universes! Worlds with the same people, experiencing different choices!” Edolas Xisuma scrabbles up the smooth obsidian monument, practically hopping onto Scar and scaring the daylights out of him. “They are obviously nothing like us! I mean, this Scar here is in his underwear!” 

“Hey, it’s not my fault the infinity portal forgot my pants!” Scar whines. He looks across the group, pushing the feral scientist off his perch. They all look like his friends, and yet nothing like the other hermits. It’s creepy. It’s cool. It’s magical. “You should definitely check out the other hermits, then. They’re a pretty awesome bunch, if I do say so myself.” 

“If they’re anything like you, they’re bound to be strange.” Mumbo grumbles, keeping close to Grian. He’d rather just go back to his world. He doesn’t want to meet with whatever there is out in this world. And he definitely doesn’t want to see what his alternate self is like. If he’s nothing like Mumbo, then he’s obviously not cool. He’s obviously a dork, a baby. He’s probably...Mumbo shakes the thoughts away from his head. He’s not letting those thoughts give themselves credence. If only he had some vodka on him, there’s no faster way to get rid of such thoughts. 

So of course the first person Scar offers for them to see is this world’s Mumbo. “I think him and the other Architechs are doing some sort of get together. I know Iskall and Mumbo are partners, but I don’t know what Grian has to offer. Cactus maybe?” 

“Why would this place’s Iskall want to partner with Mumbo? I can hardly stand this jackass.” Edolas Iskall sneers, glaring at Mumbo. Mumbo flips the bird back, hiding it from Grian. He knows Grian doesn’t like getting into arguments, but Mumbo thrives off conflict. He tries to keep it hidden from his friend. To keep him from getting anxiety from the tension. 

“Mumbo is a really cool dude. Trust me, his work is amazin. “ Scar cheers, guiding the crew into the depths of the jungle, heading westward. “He’s super smart, he makes these machines that just blow my mind with all kinds of redstone.” 

“Definitely the opposite of our Mumbo. I don’t think he can count to ten...unless it’s ten shots.” Edolas Scar hisses, stepping way too close to Mumbo’s personal space for his liking. Mumbo shoves him away, muscles tightening as he listens to Scar talk. Both Scars are beyond annoying, for different reasons. The Scar Mumbo knows is annoying because he’s a prick, a jackass who can’t shut his mouth unless it’s broken for him. This ‘hermit’ Scar is annoying because he won’t be quiet about things. He won’t stop talking about all the amazing achievements that his Mumbo has done. An entire company with automated delivery, walking houses and hands-free machines. 

The more Scar talks about Hermit Mumbo, the more Edolas Mumbo hates him. He’s smart, and popular. Even this Scar likes him. Mumbo, on the other hand, struggles to even keep Grian around. Why would Grian want to stay around him? He’s not smart, or popular. He’s not jubilant or silly like this one seems to be. No, Edolas Mumbo is a piece of shit with nothing good to his name. The only thing he’s smart on is the best kind of drinks and drugs, he’s only popular when it comes to seducing people. 

The group arrives at the quiet river, the potatoes growing before the circular hovel nestled in the hillside. Across the river, a series of machines are running at lightning pace. Xisuma can’t help being drawn to the inventions, optimized to give the best products in the shortest amount of time. Iron farms working nonstop, sugarcane growing as fast as possible, and a smelter cooking without a single coal wasted. 

“Hey Mumbo! I have some friends that would love to meet you!” Scar yells, poking his head through where a door should be. It seems Scar isn’t the only one to fall victim of the Jungle Bandit. 

“I wouldn’t say ‘love’.” Mumbo hisses. He winces as Grian slaps his shoulder lightly. 

“Be kind, Mumbo. We’re guests, and you shouldn’t judge a book by it’s cover.” Grian whispers. 

Three familiar faces peer out the massive glass window. All three are easy to identify, though some more than others. Iskall still has his emerald eye, but rather than an eternal frown on his face, his cheeks are creased with dimples. Grian has an evil glint in his eye, practically rushing down the ladder to meet the strangers at the doorstep. 

The two Mumbo’s simply stare at one another. The same face, same black hair and smooth mustache, on completely different people. Hermit Mumbo’s hair is slicked back, neat and tidy. His mustache is well trimmed, and he wears a well tailored suit. Edolas Mumbo’s hair sticks out in every direction, like he just woke up from a drunken stupor. Probably because he did. Piercings litter his face, cool metal brushing against his frazzled mustache and hair. Mumbo looks at his clothes, dirty and stained with alcohol and...well, other things. He just grabbed whatever was the least dirty, wore it out to party last night then fell asleep in it. 

Hermit Grian flies up, locking in on his counterpart. Edolas Grian squeaks, hiding behind Mumbo. “Whoa, I look good in every world.” 

Grian tugs on his bowtie, gulping as he dares to look closer at himself. Hermit Grian can barely keep still, bouncing from foot to foot and even fluttering the elytra wings on his back. Mumbo steps back between the two, seeing the mischievous glitter in Hermit Grian’s eyes. He’s seen that kind of trouble before. This one is a little shit. A gremlin. Nothing like the ball of anxiety behind him. Edolas Grian couldn’t even knock over a punching bag without apologizing. 

Hermit Grian looks up, surprised by the angry face. He’s not sure if he’s ever seen Mumbo make that kind of a stare. Daggers cutting through him, like some terrifying biker or punk rocker. “I don’t know if I like Mumbo with ear piercings however.” 

“Tough, because they’re staying.” If anything, now he wants to get more. Just to spite the gremlin in front of him. 

“You’re me?” Mumbo questions, appearing from his hobbit hole. “Wow...I look...I look…” Mumbo is at a loss of words, glancing over his Edolas counterpart. He looks badass, like some guy who knows how to find trouble and win. He’d make a better mole than Hermit Mumbo. 

But under the gaze of Hermit Mumbo, Edolas Mumbo can feel every part of him being scrutinized. His sloppy dress, the alcohol on his breath. Every insecurity, every vice and weakness is under a microscope. 

“This is the man of the hour, let me just say. I mean, look at this awesome iron farm he just built!” Scar waves the group over to Mumbo’s work. “How many iron ingots does it make?” 

Hermit Mumbo scuffles his feet, blushing. “Oh, something like 3,000 ingots and hour. It’s not the fastest, but it’s more than enough for me.” 

Mumbo rolls his eyes as the others gasp in awe. What a waste of energy. Who even needs 3,000 ingots? Mumbo can think of a thousand better things to waste his time on than making such ridiculous contraptions. Hermit Mumbo is just lazy. Smart, smarter than Edolas Mumbo, but surely he’s lazy. 

At least, until he starts to show his current project. Edolas Grian gravitates towards Hermit Mumbo, enjoying the calm and funny personality. And that infuriates Mumbo. Even his best friend things this useless brainiac is better than him? Grian points at the half-finished machine, in awe with wide eyes. Wrapped into the conversation. “What does this do, Mumbo?” 

Hermit Mumbo goes into some long winded explanation, and the second Mumbo hears his own voice, he tunes out. But he can’t help but watch as his own friends are rapt with Mumbo’s words. Xisuma is taking notes at a feverish pace, and even Scar is listening to the suited version of Mumbo. 

No one is better than me. Mumbo reminds himself. He may not be as smart, or as popular, or as funny, or as kind as Hermit Mumbo. But he’s cooler. He’s sly, he’s independent, he’s the life of the fucking party. This guy… this guy can’t stop talking about t-flops or whatever. 

Edolas Mumbo sneers as Edolas Scar looms close, resting his arm on Mumbo’s jacket. “Would you look at that. Even your best friend prefers this version to you.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Mumbo steps back, letting Scar fall flat on his face. But Mumbo looks at Grian, both Grians listening intently to Mumbo show off his spectacular knowledge. The machine starts to fire, turning the farm on and beginning it’s collection. 

Even he is better than me. Mumbo can’t build incredible designs, machines that make life easier, that astonish and astound. Machines that Mumbo could never even begin to imagine, much less build himself. He can hardly even get the key of his own apartment into the lock most days. Mumbo can’t make friends, even the people he hangs out with most would rather eat fermented spider eye than call him an ally. He’s not funny unless he’s got a cocktail of drugs mixing up his mind and body. And the last thing anyone, even Grian, would call Mumbo is kind. He’s an asshole, a bastard. A rubbish friend and an even more rubbish person. A waste of space. A waste of time, a waste of effort.

Mumbo rolls his eyes, but he hears Edolas Grian’s bright voice over the amazement of the others. “You’re so cool, Mumbo! You can make all this incredible stuff, and you’re smart enough to explain it all. And kind enough to show us it all, I can’t imagine thinking of all this. This has to be why so many people ask you for help!” 

Edolas Mumbo can hear something snap, like a bone breaking in his own mind. His own heart. Grian never called him smart, or kind. No one has ever called him anything except a bastard, or a fucker, or an asshole. He hardly feels his fists clench, looking at his own face. How long has Mumbo wanted to punch himself, to beat himself up? To give him what he deserves? How often has he looked in the mirror, drunk and high, and just wanted to knock himself out? 

“Oh, it’s nothing really, mate. I’m honestly not that good, you should see something like Impulse.” Hermit Mumbo overs a shy smile, eyes closed as he smooths back his hair. His awkward chuckle is cut short as a rough grip wraps around his neck. Hermit Mumbo’s legs kick out as the raging grip raises him from the grass. He forces his eyes open, hand grabbing at the tattooed arm- of himself. 

“Stop being better than me!” Edolas Mumbo shouts, fists shaking and a prick of tears burning at the corners of his eyes. Mumbo looks down the arm holding him up, head tipped high but eyes glancing down to see his own face. He gasps for air, holding onto the arm suspending him in the air. And despite being physically in peril, he can see that he’s not the one suffering as much as Edolas Mumbo. In shared grey eyes, he can see the pain, the fear. 

Edolas Mumbo is terrified. Everyone thinks this Mumbo is so much better- because they’re right. He is a thousand times better than him. Scar prefers him, Xisuma prefers him. Even his best friend, Grian, prefers this Mumbo to him. They’ll ditch Mumbo in no time, in lieu of so much better a version. He’s nothing compared to the amazing, perfect person he has grasped in his hand. He’s just a bastard, someone that everyone hates. Someone that everyone wants gone. 

“Mumbo! Stop it, what are you thinking?” Both Mumbos look over, seeing Edolas Grian with tears streaking down his face. Torn between wanting to tell his friend off for being so aggressive, and wanting to calm him down. But for Edolas Mumbo, seeing his best friend crying because of him lets him know that he’s done it again. He’s fucked it all up again, because he can’t handle his own emotions. He can’t control himself, he can’t be anything except a piece of shit and a walking disaster. 

Mumbo let’s go of his own neck, lightly setting Hermit Mumbo onto his feet. The tiny tears have grown to full floods, guilt and regret and hatred all boiling over. Despite the soft landing, Mumbo still falls to his knees, trying to regain control of his heartbeat and body. He looks up, wanting to ask himself what the problem was. Why he was more afraid than Hermit Mumbo. 

But he’s gone, a cavity bored through the crowd that surrounded him. Hermit Grian steps in, looking at Mumbo’s neck. It’s red, but not bruised. Despite the anger in Edolas Mumbo’s grip, he couldn’t bring himself to actually hurt another person for no reason other than wanting to bring pain to himself. Grian looks at the shaking Grian. “I think he needs some help.” 

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

“Mumbo?” Grian whispers, peeking his head into the empty bar. It’s midday, but he knew that if Mumbo was going to go anywhere, it was here. This is his favorite haunt, where he can get the cheapest prices on drinks, find the best new addictions, and hit up the next morning’s mistake. 

There’s only two people in the dark, smoky bar. The bartender, who nods to the end of the line of stools. The darkest corner. Mumbo is surrounded by an assortment of bottles, shots, and whiskey glasses. Mumbo’s head is against the glistening and sticky counter, hand still clutching the current bottle. Grian creeps closer, clambering onto the stool next to Mumbo. 

“I thought you’d rather be with that perfect version of me.” Mumbo growls, turning his gaze away from his friend. “And why wouldn’t you, huh?” 

“Mumbo, I-” Grian flinches back as Mumbo snaps at him, cutting him off. He can smell the alcohol on his breath. This may not be the first time Grian has had to help Mumbo through a bout of alcohol poisoning. Hopefully he won’t need the hospital this time. 

“Just leave me, get something better than this piece of shit. Someone smarter than me, kinder than me. Someone who can actually do something useful with their life. Who’s good at so many things. Redstone, being nice, being funny and friendly and smart and such a great person!” Mumbo grasps the bottle in his hand until the glass shatters, shards digging into his skin. Grian has never seen his best friend so low. He’s afraid, not for his own safety. For Mumbo’s. “And what am I good at? Nothing. Nothing except overdosing in an alley outside a bar.” 

Mumbo’s head snaps to the side, cheek stinging and burning red. His eyesight is set straight, free from the drunken stupor for just a moment. Just enough to look back, and see Grian. With his hand still up, and his face creased with sorrow and tears. Deep valleys as he holds back his own cries. Not because he’s sad for himself. But sad for Mumbo. “How could you say such a thing? How could you honestly think that any of us would want you any different than who you are?” 

“Because he’s-” 

“Because he’s you? He’s not you, Mumbo. He’s got a different world, a different life. A different place that he grew up in. A different set of vices and worries than you.” Grian scoots the stool closer, forcing Mumbo to listen. “He’s smart, and kind. But that doesn’t make us ever want to get rid of you! You are wild, and clever, and there’s not another person in this world that would step into a fight for any one of us. Even for Scar, if it came down to it.” 

“Great, so I’m just you guys’s bodyguard.” Mumbo hisses, looking at the glass buried in his fingers. 

“No, Mumbo! Just...for once listen to me, for fuck’s sake!” The sharp curse that crosses over Grian’s lips is enough to snap Mumbo back to his words. Grian never swears, he’s too much of a goody-two-shoes for that. “We are your friends because we want to be! We hang out with you because we enjoy it! Just because one person is different than you doesn’t mean you’re any better or worse!” 

Mumbo’s voice is gone from his lips, and all he can do is breathe in and out. He can’t think of any retort for Grian’s words. Just one thing. “I messed up, Grian.” 

“We all mess up. But the important thing is learning from it. Learning from our mistakes, and being better from it. Maybe...one day we can go back and smooth things over with Hermit Mumbo. But...for now, let’s get you some help.”

[mst3kproject]

Bloody Pit of Horror

Full points to the title guy!

Bloody Pit of Horror stars Mickey Hargitay from The Loves of Hercules, and like The Horrors of Spider Island it has a plot that goes out of its way to put a bunch of attractive women in a contrived situation of peril.  Also like The Horrors of Spider Island, it has a person stuck in a giant spiderweb and a hilarious fake spider, although these are less integral to the storyline. It furthermore claims to be based upon the writings of the Marquis de Sade, which is about as believable as Village of the Giants’ claim to being based on H. G. Wells.  It is a very silly, often self-defeating movie and yet one I very much enjoy.

Four hundred years ago, a man who called himself the Crimson Executioner was put to death for the torture and murder of innocents. Naturally he swore he would return and have his revenge.  In the 1960’s, a group of models show up at his castle, looking for a place to hold a spoopy photoshoot.  When nobody answers the bell, their manager Mr. Price assumes the place is empty and they break in, only to find that there is an owner, Travis Anderson, who is understandably upset about the intrusion. He almost throws them out, but then changes his mind when he realizes Price’s assistant is his ex-wife, Edith. The group gets started on their photography, and it doesn’t take long before the Crimson Executioner is back from the grave, picking them off one by one with a series of complicated death traps!

Nobody goes into a movie called Bloody Pit of Horror expecting it to be good, or even particularly scary, and sure enough it’s not.  Since most of the characters are only here to die, they don’t have much to them.  The models stand around and scream a lot and the men all kind of look and sound alike, and the actors were pretty lousy even before they were dubbed into English.  The sets representing the castle interior are okay even when they don’t make a lot of architectural sense, but the torture dungeon looks like cardboard.  The last thirty minutes or so are mostly a series of incompetent fight scenes in which the camera stays perfectly still while two guys grapple with a minimum of choreography.  Attempts at mood lighting are completely undermined by the bright 60’s technicolour.

Yet for all that, Bloody Pit of Horror still makes more of an attempt to be an actual movie than The Horrors of Spider Island ever did.  If you remember my review, I complained that Horrors of Spider Island was nothing but a series of thin excuses to show us half-naked women.  Bloody Pit of Horror is kind of the same, but it pays far more attention to its story.  The opening sequence, in which the models wander around the castle bickering a little, at least tries to sketch personalities and relationships – the audition scene in Spider Island didn’t bother.  The sequence in which they do their photography is leering but only in a PG sort of way, and is also pretty funny – it’s even funny on purpose, enjoying its own absurdity (there’s a reason I described it as ‘spoopy’).  As much screen time is spent on trying to solve the mystery as on watching the women posturing, and while you can see the ‘twist’ coming from a mile away I still enjoyed the over-the-top reveal of it.

There’s a lot of unintentional humour in the movie as well, and a few things I can’t decide whether they were supposed to be funny or not.  Mickey Hargitay’s over-acting is hilarious, even with his voice dubbed, and the torture scenes earn laughs from their obvious fakeness. The characters’ decisions make no sense at all: one of the male models is killed when a torture device they were using as a prop is sabotaged, and the only thing Price does is call a ten-minute break before they have to get back to work!  In another jaw-dropping bit, Rick (why is there always a Rick?!) and Edith discover Kinuyo in a ridiculous death trap involving spring-loaded bows and a mechanical spider, and never think to ask her who put her there or how.  My favourite moment of unintentional amusement is the corpse driving around in circles because its foot is still on the gas pedal – that’s the stinger right there.

And of course there’s the Scooby-Doo twist, in which we learn that instead of a vengeful ghost it was just Anderson in a costume.  Normally that sort of thing annoys me, because it feels like the movie has promised us something supernatural and then chickens out at the last minute, but in Bloody Pit of Horror it actually works.  This is partially because Anderson himself really seems to believe he’s the reincarnation of the Crimson Executioner, and partly because the revelation comes not at the end of the movie, but with half an hour yet to go in which the characters can try to do something with this information.  Another factor is that unlike in movies such as The Beast with Five Fingers, we’re never actually shown anything that can’t be explained by saying ‘Anderson did it’.  His death traps are ludicrous, but they’re not ghostly.

Insofar as the movie has an intentional theme, it is the idea of purity or virtue.  It’s easy to predict which of the characters are going to die, especially if you’re familiar with the conventions of slasher movies: ‘sluts’ must be punished while the virtuous get to live.  The ‘sluts’ here are the models in their skimpy outfits, while the virtuous one is Edith, who wears a high-necked blouse, a past-the-knee skirt, and minimal makeup.  A lot of slasher movies try to make this a little more subtle but in Bloody Pit of Horror it’s quite explicit.  Anderson has isolated himself in the castle as a sort of monastic cell, where he can escape the temptations of the world.  When these provocative women intrude upon his solitude, he feels he must kill them in order to restore his own spiritual and physical purity.

(Speaking of things that are not subtle, there is also a very strong thread of homoeroticism in Bloody Pit of Horror.  Anderson abandoned Edith and went to live in contemplation of the ‘perfect’ male form.  His minions are a couple of muscular guys who dress like bottles of Le Male cologne.  And we can’t forget the scene of Hargitay standing in front of a mirror wearing spandex, oiling himself up while talking about his obsession with the harmony of his perfect body.)

The unfortunate thing about movies like this, in which those who have sex or do drugs or play pranks have to die while the well-behaved people get to live, is that they are essentially victim-blaming. If the models dressed more like modest Edith, maybe they would have lived!  Anderson reveals at the end that Edith herself was his target all along, because his lingering love for her represented more of a threat to his chastity than the scantily-clad models ever could, yet he still saves her for last so she can try to escape or be rescued.  This is actually sort of worse, because it seems to mean a higher force has intervened to save her, but couldn’t be bothered to do so for the others.

I think we are meant to believe that the medieval Crimson Executioner, whoever he was (the movie never gives him any other name), sought purity of the soul and killed those he believed to be sinners.  Anderson, on the other hand, is obsessed with the purity of his body, although he’s never very clear about what that means, and has projected this idea onto the Crimson Executioner.  The movie doesn’t trust us to figure this out for ourselves, of course, but has Rick calmly talk about it as he carries Edith out of the torture chamber at the end.  For poetic justice to occur, Anderson must die with his body polluted – he runs into a dummy covered with poisoned nails, which corrupts him with poison but also by penetration.  In case we didn’t think the latter is a purposeful metaphor, the name of this contraption is ‘the lover of death’.

The idea that beauty of the body and beauty of the soul are inextricably entwined goes back to the ancient Greeks – outstanding citizens were described as καλοι κ'αγαθοι, ‘the beautiful and the good’.  Philosophers believed that the gods rewarded beautiful souls by incarnating them in beautiful bodies.  A woman named Phryne is supposed to have been acquitted of a charge of impiety after she stripped in the courtroom, because the jury could not believe a sinner would be so beautiful.  The Greeks themselves were already questioning this idea and in modern times we tend to be very suspicious of it, although the trope of the deformed villain persists. Although Anderson himself espouses the Greek idea, claiming his ‘pure’ body needs to be inhabited by a ‘pure’ soul, he is a perfect example of the opposite: it is his very beauty, and the narcissism that goes with it, that makes his soul so ugly.

These themes of beauty and purity don’t really go very deep in Bloody Pit of Horror.  As I already noted, Anderson never even clarifies what the ‘harmony of his perfect body’ really means, and it’s possible even he doesn’t know.  Really we’re just here to look at pretty girls getting tortured and murdered in a very tame fashion, but the movie has enough of a sense of humour about this to make it fun instead of boring, and you don’t leave feeling like a sexual predator.  It’s nice that Rick and Edith survive, but they’re not interesting enough that you ever actually rooted for them.  All things considered, Bloody Pit of Horror was never going to be good but probably turned out as entertaining as it could with the script and cast it had.

[shellelyn2]

Tonight Is For Us (Newt Scamander X Reader)

Here it is!! My second Newt Scamander X Reader fic and I could not be more excited. I just want to thank everyone for all the support so far. It is truly amazing to find people who read and enjoy your writing. It inspires me so much and I already have more ideas dancing around in my mind to write and so THANK YOU SO MUCH. As long as one person likes these, I’ll do my best to keep them coming.

I want to dedicate this story to all of you who are hurting and in need of some comfort. I hope that reading this helps you find the strength in yourself to know that there is hope and your lives have meaning. Sometimes, a really difficult obstacle is the very thing that makes us stronger. Be brave, dear ones.

Title: Tonight Is For Us (Part 2)

More?

PART ONE Tonight Is For You with gifs / no gifs

PART THREE Tonight Is For Them with gifs / no gifs

MASTER LIST

Pairing: Newt Scamander X Reader

Rating: T

Warnings: lots of fluff, some angsty feels, and then more fluff

Fluff Level: TO THE MOON!

Additional notes: There’s a bit of Newt POV in here that I haven’t attempted before, so hopefully I did him a bit of justice.

Also, if you enjoy this, can you please send feedback? It really helps motivate me and I welcome ALL of it!

“Darling? I’M HOME!” Newt hollered as he entered your apartment. Carefully, he removed his coat and scarf and hung them on the rack beside the door. When you did not answer Newt sauntered to the window, peering outside at the city he had just escaped. It was bright and bustling - people going about their evening business. He felt very glad to be home and away from the chaos.

Newt swiveled around to survey the current state of the apartment. There was a glowing fire under the mantel, a record on the turntable playing soft piano music and the delicious smell of warm bread lingering in the air. It was always a refreshing feeling to come home from a busy day to such calm surroundings. Newt walked into the dining room and saw a single place set at the table. Newt felt somewhat dismayed; he had missed dinner with you once again. His business at MACUSA had kept him late into the afternoon. He sighed, resting his case on the floor.

Newt wandered into the bedroom and noticed your clothes strewn all over the floor. He bent over gathering each piece as he made his way towards the entrance of the bathroom - skirt, socks, a pale blue blouse, a mint green slip, and your undergarments. He smirked slightly, pushing the door open fully expecting to find you soaking in the tub, “Love?"

The last of the water was making a gurgling noise as it was swallowed up in the drain. Newt’s eyebrows furrowed as he stuffed the clothes in the hamper, curious as to where you might be.

Suddenly, a thud came from the closet followed by a whiny grunt, "Ow! Ridiculous shelf!!”

Newt’s lips curled into a smile as you backed your way out of the closet, grasping the towel as it slid down your body. “Hello!” Newt called out to you.

You shrieked, pulling the towel higher around yourself while grabbing your wand from the counter. You quickly realized it was your husband and a look of relief crossed your features, “Oh honey. You frightened me.”

Newt chuckled, moving toward you, tenderly running his thumb down your cheek, “Sorry, my darling.”

You smiled in response as he wrapped his arms around your bare shoulders and squeezed you tight, “I’m sorry I missed dinner.” He tilted his head and his lips whispered huskily against your ear, “And bath time as well.”

You turned your head to kiss his cheek, “I didn’t know how much longer you would be, sweetheart, and my body was really aching."

Newt loosened his embrace and leaned back to look directly into your eyes. He bit his bottom lip and smiled while slithering his hand under your towel, caressing your stomach, "Is our little darling giving you some aches and pains this evening?"

You sighed at the affectionate tone of his voice and the gentle gesture of his concern. "A bit. But, I do feel a lot better now.”

“That’s good,” Newt stated, he slid both of his hands into yours and smiled.

You looked him over, despite the smile that reached his eyes he looked quite exhausted. He was covered in a layer of dust and the smells of New York City. You squeezed his hands and then let go, turning to the counter where your underwear and night gown sat waiting.

“Would you like me to run you a bath, Newt?"

Newt shook his head no and explained, "I still have to do the nightly rounds.”

You smiled gently, understanding, “Perhaps later, then.” You winked at him as you dressed.

Newt stood behind you, an affectionate smile on his lips as he observed you. “I am quite hungry though.” The way he accented the word made you blush, wondering what kind of hungry he truly meant.

“Oh yes! There’s some soup and fresh rolls on the stove waiting for you. It should still be warm.” You offered, drying your hair with the towel.  "I can come show you. I just want to tidy up my things here and fix my hair a bit. Is that alright?“

"Yes, love,” He reached over and lifted one of your hands to his lips, kissing it gently, “Don’t worry, I’ll get some.”

You beamed with joy as he walked away from you.

Newt wandered into the kitchen, picked up his bowl, and filled it with hot cheesy potato soup. He snagged a roll and immediately devoured it, not bothering about the butter. He felt it was the most delicious bread he had ever consumed, or he was just that hungry. Cautiously, he walked back to your bathroom. He carried a bowl of soup in one hand, a roll in the other hand and a second roll hung halfway out of his mouth.

He leaned onto the door frame and ate with pleasure as he watched you at your vanity. You sat there, your back facing him as you looked into the mirror and captured his eyes, “We DO have a table to eat at, you know?” You teased with a grin. He blew on a spoonful of soup and smirked up at you.

“Yes well, I’d rather be where you are.” Newt stated, quite matter-of-factually.

“Right, you silly man.” You giggled as he flashed you a charming smile.

Newt studied you arranging little contraptions in your hair (he had no idea what they were called - he only knew they gave your locks a soft curl, which he really loved). He dipped a roll into his soup and took another bite. He loved the way you delicately placed your small strands of hair into - whatever they were - while rolling them towards the crown of your head. You then would secure the - was it a curler? - in place with a sort of metal pin that he had seen you pick locks with in the past. This was really interesting to him because why were you using a lock picker as a hair accessory? He pursed his lips and thought for a moment. It did seem a handy device. Newt swallowed another bite of soup and wondered if he should ask you for a few of them to carry around in his coat pocket for those times he needed to get into something and Pickett was nowhere to be seen.

Your hands transitioned from your hair to the vanity where many glass perfume bottles were displayed. You ran your fingers over several of them, relishing the curvature of the glass. You chose a sea green bottle and lifted it towards you spritzing the perfume on the base of your neck, behind your ears, and on your wrists.

Newt continued to eat as the familiar smell of you washed all over him - vanilla with a hint of [fave smell]. Newt inhaled gently, there were so many memories associated with that aroma. Your first date, the night you confessed your love for him, birthday dinners, first kisses, your wedding day, your wedding night, times when you had comforted each other – everything. Newt finished his soup and set the empty bowl on the dresser. He turned back to you, longing in his eyes, as he continued to observe your evening routine.

“Dinner was delicious, thank you so much darling.” Newt leaned sideways on the door frame again, examining your back - the way your shoulder blades moved under your silky, golden gown.

“Are you full now, honey?” You blushed, feeling his eyes memorizing every detail.

“Mmhmm.” Newt took a couple steps towards you, glancing down, fidgeting with the buttons on his vest. He tilted his head up just enough, his eyes peeking through his curls as he watched you grab a bottle of moisturizing cream and squeeze a small amount into the palm of your hand.

Newt reached your chair, and you looked through the mirror up to him, just as you spread the moisturizer onto your cheeks and neck. He bit his bottom lip and tenderly rested his fingers on your shoulder. “May I help?”

A soft gasp escaped your lips as you realized what he was offering. You shook your head yes, continuing to stare at him in the mirror. You reached your hand up and squeezed where his was on your shoulder, “Yes of course, darling.”

Newt’s cheekbones blushed, only slightly, and he moved closer to your chair. As he stood behind you he placed both hands on either side of your face and began to gently rub the cream into your skin. You trembled at this touch, feeling warmth rising in your chest. He stuck his tongue out slightly against the corner of his lips, concentrating, as if he could possibly do it wrong. His slender fingers rubbed down your neck as he massaged the rest of the moisturizer into your skin. When finished, he rested his hand against the base of your throat and bent over to place a kiss on the back of your neck, “Is that acceptable?” His eyes looked up to yours reflecting back to him.

“Acceptable?” You whispered, goosebumps clearly forming on your skin.

Newt laughed gently and then draped his arms around your neck, resting his chin on your left shoulder. He reached down and squeezed your hands. You could feel the smile on the side of his lips as he murmured, “You know love, you kind of remind me of Frank.”

You laughed so intensely that tears formed in the corners of your eyes, “FRANK?!!!” You giggled, unable to control the fits of laughter shaking your whole body, “I remind you of Frank?!?” You gasped, desperately trying to catch your breath, “That’s so sexy, Newt. I remind you of a Thunderbird?!?”

Newt looked ENTIRELY embarrassed. His cheeks turned a bright shade of pink as he nestled his nose into the side of your neck trying to hide it. He shook his head, silently asking himself what in Merlin had possessed him to say his thoughts out loud. It sounded so much better in his head. Newt joined you in laughter for a full minute before either of you caught your breath long enough to form a proper sentence.

Newt kissed your temple and then stood up to full height, looking at himself in the mirror, wondering how to recover the moment. Your eyes met his and you smiled softly, noticing his contemplation.

“I only meant,” he began massaging your shoulders, “Well, you see - Frank -” Newt sighed, and you gave him an encouraging smile, “He is so majestic and yet the gentlest of creatures, like you. His eyes are always so curious and full of wonder, like yours. He senses things - like my emotions or danger. You have done that for me since we first met. His coloring - gold, it’s like the color of your gown right now but not only that -” His hands stopped moving on your shoulders as he locked eyes with you in the mirror, “You are so full joy and love, you are like golden sunshine, you warm–,” Newt’s words caught in his throat, as he was overflowing with emotion, “You warm my heart every single day -like Frank.” He shrugged, biting his bottom lip, lowering his head, looking nowhere in particular.

The sincerity and innocence of Newt’s words melted your heart. You thought of the way Newt treated Frank and the bond that was between the two of them. You couldn’t think of a better creature to be compared to.

You stood up and turned to face him, wrapping an arm around his waist, pulling him close. With a tilt of your head, you cupped his cheek with your hand and memorized his eyes. You gave him a thankful smile as you whispered, “That was the sweetest thing I have ever heard.”

“Well, it is genuine. Every word.” Newt blushed, raising a hand to your jaw. You leaned in, hugging him around the neck and kissed him eagerly. He deepened the kiss, pulling your waist close with one hand while the other rested on the middle of your back. The comforting embrace of Newt after a long day of work was not unwelcome in the slightest. If anything the dust in his hair, his chapped lips, and the callousness of his hands made him that much more desirable in your eyes. He worked so hard and you loved him for it. You nestled against his right shoulder, as he held you close. Newt’s smile radiated as he tucked his chin closer to the side of your head. 

“But, I don’t feel scaly or furry or anything of that sort, right?” You teased, loosening him from your arms long enough to glimpse his eyes.

Newt practically snorted, the wrinkles by his eyes appearing as he grinned at you, “Well, it is possible, if you fail to moisturize every morn’ and night.”

“HEY!!” You exclaimed, playfully reaching around to smack his bottom.

“I am simply stating a fact, my love.” Newt teased, smirking at you through his curls.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“You like it.” Newt winked, grabbed your hand, and motioned his head for you to come along to the sitting room.

Newt wedged you down on the sofa, sheltering you with a massive quilt, and then disappeared to the kitchen for several moments. When he reappeared he was balancing two mugs of tea. “Thought you might care for one too.” He offered, placing it on the end table next to you. He peeled back the quilt and settled in next to you.

You smiled at the tea, then towards him, “Thank you.”

“Mm, welcome.” He took a sip, “What are you reading this evening, my love?” Newt inquired, motioning to the book in your hands.

“The Secret Garden.” You replied, “It’s quite lovely.”

“Wonderful, perhaps you could read to me a bit later? I suppose when I finish this I will check on the creatures. I need to give them their dinner and cuddles.” Newt smiled, blowing on his tea before taking another sip.

“That’s fine. Do you need any help?”

Newt shook his head, resting a hand on your thigh. “No, I shan’t be long.”

You placed the book down on the table and picked up your tea, enjoying the warmth it brought to your hands.

“So, I was thinking of names for the baby tonight,” You began, drinking a sip.

Newt squeezed where his hand rested on your thigh and smiled, “Oh, have you? Let’s hear them.”

“Well, for a son… I quite like…”

Newt cut you off, “Don’t say Fido.”

You laughed, “Oh come on, love.”

“I am serious.” Newt raised his eyebrows in amusement as he drank another sip of tea.

“Artemis, then?”

Newt shot you a sideways glance of warning. “How about something normal like Jack or Robert?” He teased, taking another sip, then resting the mug on the table.

“I do like those names, Newt. I would just love for him to carry on your name. I think that would be quite sweet. Don’t you?”

Newt watched as you gulped down your tea, his jaw stern, as he thought about what you were explaining. You tucked your hair behind your ear, put your empty cup next to his, and leaned back, caressing your stomach. You grabbed a biscuit from a nearby plate and glanced over at Newt, taunting him with it. “Is this yours?” You asked, a flirtatiousness in your voice.

Newt smirked and opened his arms for you. You crawled into his lap and sat sideways. Newt turned his head away pretending to read the newspaper at the end of the sofa. You scoffed and took a bite of the biscuit, “Mmm, all for me then…” You swallowed the biscuit, falling towards him, as you laughed heartily. Newt tried to resist but the temptation was too strong, his laughter met yours and he turned his head nuzzling directly into your neck leaving a trail of kisses all over as he breathed you in. You wrapped your arms around his neck and turned your head while he continued his affections.

Eventually, he composed himself and wrapped you up in his arms, linking his hands at the side of your hip.

“I like Peter.” You offered, leaning back to capture his reaction. You were met with sea green eyes, full of exhilaration from his laughter.

Newt grinned at you and kissed your nose, contemplative. His eyes began to brighten a little as a smile formed on the corners of his lips. “Peter…” He thought, “Peter Scamander?” Newt chuckled, “You know, I quite like it.”

You burrowed against his neck once more to avoid his gaze, “Yes. Peter Artemis Newton Scamander.”

Newt protested and his arms loosened as he began to tickle your sides,“You little bugger.”

“STOP! NO!! NEWT!!!” You squealed, writhing away from his grasp. You quickly squirmed from his arms enough that your body laid flat against the couch, your head resting in his lap. “STOP IT NEWTON!” You warned.

Newt laughed loudly as his tickling subsided. He ran his fingers across your lips tenderly and stared at you, breathless and overjoyed.

“I love it.” Newt whispered, gazing into your eyes. He placed a hand behind your head, and you raised up to him as he gifted an affectionate kiss on your lips. You smiled as he held you there, seeming to memorize every detail of your face, “It’s perfect.” He hummed, leaning down to brush his lips on yours again.

Some time later you were wrapped up on the couch in front of the fire, carefully removing the last of the curlers from your hair. You examined the end result in your mirror and shrugged. Good enough. You leaned back into the cushion, content, and picked up your book. You were waiting for Newt to return from his nightly rounds in the case so that the two of you could cuddle up and read together for a bit longer.

That plan changed instantly when Newt burst from your bedroom door, shirt tucked in, vest buttoned, looking rather annoyed. “That little bugger has escaped again!”

"The Niffler!” You exhaled, tilting your head up from your book to confirm the truth in Newt’s eyes, he shook his head yes as you mumbled, “Unbelievable.”

Newt grabbed his coat from the rack and tugged it in on quickly, “Well, suppose I shall go find him. He can’t have got far. Will you be fine?”

You took a sip of your second mug of mint tea and smiled, “Oh yes. You?”

Newt shook his head, wrapping his scarf around his neck, “I will be when I catch that little monster.”

With a rush of intensity he bounded towards you, kissed your lips, and apparated so abruptly you almost screamed.

Around an hour later you were reading the “Anatomy of Mythical Creatures Encyclopedia: Volume 12” and eating a slice of buttered toast. You rubbed your stomach, all of these photos of the baby creatures were making you so excited as you thought of the tiny life growing inside of you. You were also super thankful that your birthing process did not seem nearly as complicated as some in this book. Your physician (and Newt) had calculated that you were about four and a half months along and every day you grew in anticipation thinking of the day you would meet your little darling. You wondered if he or she would have Newt’s sweet nose or countless freckles.

Presently, you heard keys rattling in the doorknob and your tall husband entered the room. He shrugged off his coat and scarf and dropped them to the floor.

“Newt? Did you find him?” You inquired, noticing the lack of cheerfulness in his demeanor.

Newt began walking towards your bedroom, case in hand. His shoulders were slumped and he dragged his feet along the carpet. Upon hearing your voice he halted for an instant and glanced at you, “Yeah. Found him.”

He quickly turned away and continued to shuffle down the hall to your room.

Something was wrong. It was normal for Newt to be silent at times, even irritated on occasion, but to not greet you with his kiss and a kind word - you knew there was definitely a problem.

You set your half eaten toast to the side and stood up tall, stretching your back, your hand resting on your stomach.

You walked into the bedroom and immediately began to worry. Now it was your turn to pick up clothes on the way to the bathroom. You grabbed his brown boots and placed them near his case, where he normally kept them so he could leave in a hurry. You gathered his trousers, socks, vest, dusty shirt, suspenders, and underwear and stepped into the bathroom. The room was already full of hot steam from the shower. You stuffed his clothes in the hamper and bit down on your bottom lip. You felt a slight pain of longing and desperation to know what was wrong with your husband.

You could see him over the top of the shower curtain but his eyes remained closed as water cascaded down his face. It was difficult to tell but you thought some of the droplets might be mixed with tears. You wanted desperately to join him, to hold him close to you, and kiss away whatever this was - but you also knew that Newt needed his space.

You left the bathroom and went to his dresser, pulling out a fresh pair of underwear and his striped pajamas. You returned and set his things on the counter next to his wand. When you glanced back over at him he faced the wall. ‘Let him be.’ You whispered to yourself as you walked away.

You distracted yourself by tidying up from dinner, putting the leftovers away, and clearing the table. You turned off most of the lights in the apartment and made sure the door was locked. Eventually, you heard the shower turn off and you waited long enough for Newt to get dressed. Upon entering your bedroom you were surprised to see Newt face down on the bed, in his pajamas, with the blanket pulled up to his shoulders. He seemed to be trembling a little and you thought you heard a sniffle.

“Sweetheart?” You walked over to the edge of the bed and rubbed the middle of his back, “Are you okay? Can I get you anything?”

Newt said nothing, only continued to seem deep in his thoughts. You bent slightly to look at him. He was facing you, his eyes were wet with tears, and his usual rosy skin looked pale.

Newt’s voice quivered, his eyes fixed on you though distant, “Will you - hold me - please?”

You shook your head in agreement, “Yes. Yes, I will.”

Newt rolled over to his side of the bed and faced away from you toward the bedroom windows.

You crawled into the sheets and Newt cuddled into your arms. He leaned his head back against your neck and you rested your chin on the top of his head. His shoulders felt tense against your chest and his breathing was shallow and battered.

“Honey, you don’t have to talk about it. But, I’m here. I’m here sweetheart.” You lifted your hand to his curly hair and smoothed it back. Silence. Not a flinch.

You wrapped both of your arms around his waist and pulled him even tighter against your chest. You left small kisses along the back of his neck and shoulders as your eyes welled up with tears.

No words were spoken. You lied there together in total silence for at least fifteen minutes until Newt drew in a deep breath and spoke quietly, “It happened tonight while I was trying to locate the Niffler…”

FLASHBACK

Newt ran past the entrance to Macy’s and took a dive at the Niffler just as he scurried under a park bench.

“Blasted thing!” Newt complained, as he picked himself up from the concrete and dusted the front of his coat.

“Hey! Mr?!?” There was tug coming from the back of Newt’s coat and he turned to face a little girl - not more than seven - staring at him with big, blue eyes. She wore a lavender dress with white lace trim and held a small doll in her arms, “Mr? What WAS that?”

Newt gulped and let out a sigh, knowing full well she must have seen the Niffler. He reached down and patted her head hastily, “What did you see, dear child?”

“It was like a little puppy. It was black and furry with a beak. I think it might have been part duck.” She stated, rather unfazed.

Newt licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes searching for whoever her parents might be.

“Oh, probably just a giant sewer rat. Don’t worry. Everything is fine. Where’s your Mum and Dad?”

“Why are you carrying that case?”

“For work.”

“Why do you have that stick on your belt?”

“I carved it from a tree.”

“Why are you here?”

“I’m on my way home from dinner.”

“Where do you live?”

“Come along, let’s find your Mum.”

“Don’t got one. Just a Dad. What’s that?” She pointed at his vest where the chain of his pocket watch was visible.

“It’s a gift. Listen. What is your name, precious?” Newt knelt down, so he was at her level, and looked into her eyes.

“Katherine.”

“Ah, Katherine, what a lovely name. I’m Newt Scamander. Now, can you tell me where your Father is so that I can take you to him?”

“NO!!! We have to find that puppy duck! He stole Rose’s necklace.” She lamented, pointing at her doll.

Newt shook his head. Of course.

“Tell you what love, you help me find him, I get your necklace back, buy you a lovely pastry and then off you pop home. Deal?”

“Ok Mr…Scuh-Wuh-Mander?”

Newt smiled cheerfully, “Just call me Newt.”

“Ok Mr. Newt! Come on!”

Katherine’s little hand grabbed his as they walked into Macy’s department store. Newt smiled down at her, for one moment dreaming of the day when he would be taking his own children here to shop for clothing and toys. He felt very proud knowing he would be a Father. Nervous, but proud, “Now, you remember what you saw, right? I think it might be in the jewelry department. It seems to have a love of shiny objects like your doll’s necklace.”

“Yeah. Rose has hundreds of necklaces at home. I can put a new one on her like EVERY DAY!”

Newt grinned, his eyes darting everywhere, searching, hunting for the Niffler. “Oh that’s wonderful, darling!”

The pair reached the jewelry counter and inspected under displays and various benches lined up against the wall.

“May I help you, sir?”

Newt gulped and looked up, shifting his eyes nervously at the sales woman. “Oh - erm - no ma'am, we are searching for a birthday present for my Grandmother.”

Katherine laughed gleefully, “You’re Grandmother is a puppy duck?!?”

Newt drew a slender finger to his lips and hushed her.

The woman at the counter glared, pursing her lips into a thin line, “Let me know if you need assistance,” she sneered, turning away with a huff.

“She’s grumpy."

"Katherine, dear, we don’t want her to hear yo–”

Newt’s ears perked up as he heard the sound of tinkling objects hit the floor, “THIS WAY!"

The two of them took off running towards the lighting department. The Niffler was perched on top of a sofa reaching for a string of glass beads that were hanging from a chandelier. Newt only had to get within a couple more feet and he might just get lucky enough to grab him. Slowly, Newt approached the Niffler – quietly - quietly — just - a - little - further -

"HEY MR. NEWT! HE’S OVER HERE!!!!!” Katherine jumped onto the sofa and began bouncing excitedly. The Niffler glanced at Katherine, then at Newt, and instantly scurried away.

Newt blurted out, “LITTLE BUGGER!"

Many shoppers turned to stare as Newt’s eyes searched for any sign of the creature.

Katherine ran up to him, delighted, "Where’d he go?”

Newt smirked, despite the defeat, “Don’t worry. We’ll catch him yet.”

Katherine and Newt wandered the department store. There was no telling where the beast had run off to, “Erm, Katherine, where is your Father?”

“My Daddy runs the chocolate shop across the street. I just come here sometimes when I’m bored. There’s a nice woman in the ladies area. She always takes me back to my Daddy when it’s time to go home.”

“Ah.” Newt filed that information for later.

“I just like this place. My mommy used to bring me here all the time.” She grabbed Newt’s hand, “But she died.”

Newt bit his bottom lip and looked down at her, “So sorry.”

“It’s okay. Daddy says she’s in heaven. I don’t know where that is, but I think it’s probably nice. It might have chocolate waterfalls there.”

Newt laughed, and squeezed her hand a little tighter, “I’m sure it does, love.”

“MR. NEWT! Did you hear that?” Katherine whispered up at him.

Newt was already in hunting mode.

“Niffler!” Newt quietly exclaimed, pointing his finger towards the mens clothing department. The little creature was hovering over a case of shiny cuff links, his back towards them. “Be very quiet, Katherine. Can you whisper and count to three with me?”

Katherine shook her head yes.

“Right, you stand here by the case. I am going to open it, run and snatch up the Niffler and pop him in here. This is his home.”

“I thought you said that was for your work.”

“It is. I run a zoo!”

“HURRAY!!” Katherine exclaimed at the exact moment Newt grabbed the Niffler from behind.

“Count Emily!”

“One!”

“Two!”

“Three!”

Newt full out doze for the case, leaving a trail of beads along the freshly waxed floor. Despite the protest of the Niffler, Newt slammed the case shut and Katherine sat on top of it as the locks clicked into place.

“WE DID IT!!!!!” Katherine cried, getting up to dance around in little circles.

Suddenly she stopped, looked at the ground, and picked up several glass beads in her tiny hands, “But - but - it’s BROKEN!”

Newt swung his head around to look at her, “What?”

“That Nify-uh-ler thing BROKE Rose’s necklace.” Katherine’s eyes glazed over and massive teardrops began to pour down her cheeks.

Newt’s heart shattered for the little girl. He grabbed his wand, “Don’t panic, Katherine!

"REPARO!” Newt exclaimed, pointing his wand at her hands.

The beads started floating above their heads, coming together in a circular shape, they made a beautiful tinkling sound as they forged together into a whole. Katherine’s eyes grew wide. She couldn’t figure out what in the world she was witnessing but like most children she quickly forgot anything was out of the ordinary as the necklace came to rest in her hands.

“Thanks” - sniffle - “Mr. - sniffle - "Newt.”

“You are quite welcome, my dear. Now - about that pastry?"

Newt surveyed the scene for any more damage caused and made necessary repairs as they exited the store.

Eventually, they made their way to a little stand where Newt explained, "You can have any one you would like.” He dug in the pocket of his coat for some change.

“Really?” Katherine squealed, her eyes the size of moons as she surveyed the case in front of her full of all things tempting and delicious. She admired every treat for several moments and finally selected a small sweet bun in the shape of a duck. “It looks like the Nify-uh-ler, huh Mr. Newt?” She giggled.

A quick stroll brought them to Harold’s Fine Chocolates. Newt peered in the window. “Is that your Father?”

Katherine tip-toed so she could see over a display of chocolate cakes, “Yeah. That’s him. He’s getting ready to close up shop.”

“Yes. Well…” Newt paused, as Katherine sat down on the curb.

“It’s alright. I always wait for him here.”

Newt took a seat next to her on the pavement, “Thank you for helping me find my Niffler today, Katherine.”

Katherine was chewing a rather large piece of the pastry, getting icing all over her little hands. “Do you want a bite Mr. Newt?”

Newt shook his head sheepishly, “No.”

He grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. She wiped her mouth and grinned. “Thank you for the treat and thank you for helping Rose.”

Newt straightened and stuck out his hand towards Rose, “Oh yes. We haven’t been properly introduced yet. I’m Newt. I am very glad we found your necklace, Rose.” He shook the doll’s hand and Katherine broke into a fit of giggles. Newt blushed and studied the ground for a moment.

“Katherine darling? Are you ready to go home?” A man’s voice called out behind them.

“That’s Daddy.” Katherine explained, “I gotta go now Mr. Newt.” She stood up and grabbed him around the neck, giving him a great big hug. Newt smiled warmly as a lump formed in his throat.

“Thank you again, Katherine. You too Rose…”

“You’re welcome. I can’t wait to to tell my Daddy all about the Nify-uh-ler and you - Mr. Newt.” She turned away with a smile and skipped towards her Father.

Newt stood, spun around, and recited the charm quickly, “Obliviate!”

A gut wrenching sob escaped from Newt as he seemed to shrink in your arms. He continued to face away and you spooned him as tightly as you could, holding firmly around his waist. He cried freely now, no longer wanting to suppress the emotions, he sobbed into his pillow as he tried to choke out the rest of his story.  

“Ka-Ka-Katherine was skipping towards her Father and she just - stopped. I just stood there. I saw her face. It went from…” Newt breathed in deeply, trying to speak through his sobs, “….utter amazement and joy to just - nothing - nothing at all - just a blank look of confusion on her face. It was - it was the same face as the Obscurus. The eight year old - in Sudan… before she….,” He paused, swallowing, taking in more air, “I watched her… the light fading from her eyes."

He sobbed again, "It was not fair!”

Newt shuddered and you ran a hand up his chest, pulling him as close as possible, “And Katherine…  her memories just faded away. I have obliviated so many people during my travels. However, this was different. This - this - this HURT.” The word came out so pained, so tormented. You rubbed his chest for several moments in silence. He wasn’t ready for a pep talk yet, he needed to release these feelings, so you let him cry.

Eventually, Newt rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, blinking away the tears streaming down his cheeks. You wiped several of your own away as you moved close to him, nuzzling your nose into his neck. You felt his body tremor every time a sob escaped. You placed your hand on his chest, right over his heart, then whispered softly against his throat, “Darling. Can you feel me breathing?”

Newt reached up and covered your hand with his. He didn’t respond but you knew he was listening.

“Alright my love, deep breath, ready?” You inhaled fully as Newt did the same. You both let it out together. “Again. Breathe.” You repeated this several times as his tears stopped and the sobbing became lighter. “There, that’s better."

Newt closed his eyes and continued to breathe. You propped up on your elbow, looking down at him, "Shh. Shh. Just relax.” You ran your hands through his hair softly, pushing back his fringe so that you could place soft kisses against his forehead. You kissed each of his closed eyes, tasting the salt of his tears upon your lips. You caressed his ears and leaned in close as your lips brushed his stubbled jawline, his chin, and finally just below his bottom lip. You ran your left thumb over his chapped lips and leaned in, kissing him gently. There was no response from Newt but you didn’t mind. You continued to place little pecks on his lips and whispered sweet words of love to him as you stroked his neck softly. Eventually, you lied your head on his chest, listening to his heart, as he drifted to sleep.

There were several thoughts and words of comfort you wanted to speak but more important right now was letting him doze a bit. He would be ready to talk later and you had all night. You had your whole life. You had forever with Newt and when he was ready you would support him to the ends of the earth.

You had spent an hour running your fingers through his hair, caressing his face, and drawing shapes on his chest with your fingers. His sobs were less frequent now but every once in awhile a slight whimper escaped his lips. It was the first time you had ever seen him THIS upset, however, you knew it had been a long time coming. You were just glad that when he came crashing down you were there to hold him up.

Newt was stirring in his sleep but you really had to use the restroom. You released your arms from around his body and tried to slide away very slowly. You held your breath a little as he moaned in protest. Finally, you made it to your feet and took a few steps. Newt immediately arose and leaned onto his elbow. You turned back to see his tired eyes pleading with you, “Wait!”

You smiled gently to console him, “I’m just going to the toilet, my darling."

Newt inhaled deeply as he leaned back into his pillow, gazing after you, "Right. So sorry."

When you came back Newt had rolled over onto his side, facing you. You crawled into bed and were slightly surprised when he desperately pulled you into his arms. Newt still looked pale, but a slight pink was attempting to brighten his cheeks. You looked into his eyes, they were red and swollen, but more focused than before.

"I am so sorry.” Newt whispered, his voice was hoarse and exhausted. “I wanted to come home and take care of you.”

You looked directly into his green eyes, running your palm down his cheek, “There is absolutely nothing to forgive, my darling. You are taking care of me, tonight is forUS.”

You licked your lips and lifted your head to kiss your special spot. Yes, you had a spot. A particular area of his face that you kissed when he needed extra comfort and when you were trying to express your deepest emotions. It was the first place your lips had ever made contact with his skin back when you were first courting and beginning to fall in love. There was a deep, hidden meaning to this kiss. It conveyed love, trust, and commitment without any words spoken. You kissed him tenderly, letting your lips linger on his skin for a few seconds before kissing him again in the same place.

Newt melted, he completely understood the meaning you were trying to express and he pulled you close to his chest, running his hands through your hair.

Gently, you began to speak, "Newt, I’ve had to obliviate several people in my life. But, never a child. I think -” You swallowed, gazing up to meet his eyes to see if he was even ready to hear your voice. He looked calm so you continued, “It is always painful to take someone’s memories, and unfortunately we have had too many experiences with this, and when it’s a child…” You shook your head, and inhaled, “I think it is much more difficult because they are so precious… and innocent.”

Newt’s hand trailed from your shoulder to your hip bone while you spoke. He left a kiss on your forehead, waiting for you to continue.

“I don’t know what happened in Sudan and I don’t need to. If you ever want to share it with me, I will listen. I know you hurt - or perhaps feel a bit responsible and I want you to know that I am so sorry you have had to experience this. Unfortunately, it is a burden you carry - but you don’t have to do this alone, Newt. I will shoulder it with you. I will help carry it, if need be. My love, I’m here - always.” You placed your hand on his chest, covering his heart.

Newt sighed against you, his body trembling, as if a weight was lifting off of his shoulders for the first time. He didn’t say a word but reached over and ran his hand down the side of your face. You lifted your free hand up to the side of his face as well, stroking his cheek. He placed a kiss on your nose and then desperately covered your lips with his.

Newt kissed you with an emotional passion. It was almost painful in the sense that he let the scars he was carrying transfer to your lips. You knew it meant that he understood the bond between you - that you could overcome his demons together. Newt groaned a little in protest when your lips finally parted, the two of you gasping for air. He kissed your nose and quietly whispered, “Thank you. I love you."

Desperate for more, Newt covered your lips in small kisses as he cupped your face in his hands. You smiled softly knowing full well the emotional scars were still there and it would not be an easy healing process. However, you knew you would conquer this - together.

"You know what else I learned tonight?” You inquired, as your foot rubbed up his calf.

Newt melted, brushing hair off of your face and tucking it behind your ear, “What, my love?”

“You - Mr. Scuh-Wuh-Mander…” you smiled, echoing sweet Katherine’s pronunciation, “are going to be a fantastic Father.” You grabbed his hand and placed it on your stomach, “This little one is very, very lucky.” He rubbed your abdomen tenderly as you continued, “And so am I.”

Your breath became a little unsteady as he massaged your stomach softly while trailing kisses from your cheekbone to your jaw. His forearms flexed as he then brought you (somehow) even closer to his chest. He entangled the two of you together, nest like, as his legs intertwined with yours. You felt an immediate sense of protection radiating from him and you wondered if this is how it felt when the Graphorn wrapped its tentacles around Newt’s head. You almost laughed out loud thinking about that visual. You felt completely cocooned in Newt. Your breathing began to match and your heart beats bounced off each other in almost perfect unison. You felt nothing could come between you ever again.

Your face was practically crushed into the base of his freckled neck, just between his collar bones but somehow you managed to mumble, “Mmpfff, Newt - I’ve thought of - a girl’s name.”

Newt released his hold, only slightly, as he tilted his chin to focus on your eyes. He already looked so much stronger and content. “Erm, what was that love? I could not quite make that out.” He teased, pecking your nose.

“Katherine Rose [a name you love] Scamander.”

Newt melted at the suggestion, thinking of the sweet little girl and her doll, “Oh darling, that is beautiful."

He hummed against the top of your head, completely satisfied, and ran his fingers delicately down your back.

"You need me a bit closer now?” You winked, tilting your head to the side.

“Just a smidge.” He smirked, as his lips found yours again.

END!

A/N: Soooooo, what do we think? Please leave me some loves and comments and messages…. I really love ALL of the feedback (motivations are everything) and I reply to everyone! :)

Thank you so much for reading!

[ciathyzareposts]

The Black Gate: Wee Britain

More than once, in idle moments, I’ve gone through a sentence like this, seeing how it changes meaning depending on where you put the emphasis.

         After speaking to Lord British, I had three items on my “to do” list for Britain–five if you include a quick trip back to Paws:

          Find out if the Crown Jewel docked in Britain after leaving Trinsic.

Talk to the mayor about the murder from a few years ago.

Investigate, perhaps infiltrate, the fellowship.

Make sure Weston made it back to Alina in Paws after his release.

Buy some Mutton in Paws for Boots, the castle chef.

        But before I did any of that, I wanted to experience some combat. It’s rare that I’m five entries into a game without being able to talk about combat. From watching a recent humor video, I had picked up the accidental knowledge that there were some bandits just west of Britain, on the way to Skara Brae. I thus walked past the city’s row houses and pumpkin patches (noting with satisfaction that one of the street names is “Avatar Avenue”) and made my way towards the bandit ambush.

       …and then we’ll take it higher.

             I arrived just in time to see some random knight finishing them off. Where did he come from? Britannia just has roaming police knights now? He wouldn’t speak to me, so I couldn’t even thank him. All I could do was loot the corpses of the bandits he’d killed, because he didn’t seem interested in doing that.        

This guy came along and swordthwarted me!

             I thus headed back to Britain to begin exploring the streets systematically. The first NPC I met was a woman named Millie who made it impossible not to conjure the phrase “silly bint.” She stands on the street all day recruiting for the Fellowship. She spouted the usual drivel about their philosophies. It’s from her that I first hear about the organization’s Meditation Retreat, where it’s supposedly possible through concentration to hear “the Voice,” which the members interpret as an “inner voice,” but which I suspect is actually the Guardian.       Moving on, we come to a farmer’s market run by spouses Kelly and Fred. Fred resells meat from Paws. I check his prices, and the best deal seems to be dried meat at 2 gold pieces per 10 portions. I buy 20 of them.      I then take about two and a half hours to organize my inventory. Like most things in Ultima VII, the inventory system is at once amazing and annoying. I believe it is the first game to offer a completely slotless inventory. Your items don’t exist in defined spaces; they exist in a jumble, like a real backpack. They overlap each other and often get mixed around in between times you open the same container (I honestly don’t know if this is a bug or a feature). You can nest containers in containers. Some behind-the-scenes statistics enforce logical limits (based on volume, weight, or both) that you can store in a single container, as you occasionally get messages stating “Won’t Fit!” when you try to drag something in.         

If it had three half-finished packages of gum, it would be indistinguishable from Irene’s purse.

          It all makes for impressive programming, but when you got to find something–especially something small, like a key–you start to remember fondly the days when inventories were just textual lists of items, and even better, when the party just shared one common inventory pool. Particularly annoying is how precise you have to be when you click on things; otherwise, you’ll click on the wrong thing or the container itself.

But given the way things are, you need to spend some time coming up with an organization scheme. One character carries the quest items, another the wealth of the party, another food, another exploration gear like torches. As you add more party members, you can better subdivide these responsibilities. It also makes sense to use nested containers, so that (for instance) all the food is in one bag and all the gold in another.

All your organization goes out the window when you buy 20 pieces of meat. They just get dumped into the backpack of the first character, spilling over to the second if you run out of room. Then you have to spend time dragging each piece of meat to its appropriate container. Based on my experience so far, I suspect that about 25% of the game is going to consist of dragging inventory items around, either trying to find something or trying to organize things.       The inventory system works well with the overall engine. It’s nice that NPCs can hide keys under potted plants or that the Avatar can stack crates to create a staircase. You take the good with the bad.          Gordon sells fish and chips at the northeast end of the farmer’s market. He’s the one that tells me about Buccaneer’s Den, which has become a kind-of themed amusement park. Apparently, the pirates learned that they could make more money selling a pirate-themed bacchanalia than actually pirating, which is one of the funnier developments of the last 200 years.            Moving up the road, Diane runs the stables and offers to sell me a carriage pulled by a pair of horses. It’s a nice idea, and I buy one just to see what driving is like before reloading, but it’s really impractical. The contraption really needs to stick to roads, and the party can’t always do that. You’re better off just walking.       

Avatar and company race along the street in their new carriage. There’s no horse leg animation, so movement looks very awkward.

              The shipwright (Clint) is across the street from the market and here we struck out on the Crown Jewel lead; he said that the ship hadn’t been in the port in months. I couldn’t find anything to contradict him. Clint builds and sells ships, and he had one going in dry-dock, but I still have Lord British’s flagship to pick up in Vesper.

Heading north from the shipwriight, I spoke to some shop-keepers. Sean, an arrogant Fellowship member, runs the jewelry store. It would be ripe for burglary if I did that sort of thing. He’ll buy gems for 30 gold pieces per gem. Grayson runs the arms and armor store and is also a Fellowship member.  I’m sorry to see that he doesn’t buy used arms and armor because I’ve been carrying some. I guess I’m thinking of other RPGs.

North of the armory, Iolo introduces me to his apprentice, Coop, who runs Iolo’s Bows in Iolo’s absence. Somehow, having Iolo in the party doesn’t entitle me to a free bow. Coop notes that Iolo recently opened a second location in Serpent’s Hold. If Iolo lives to be 800 years old, he might have a pretty good franchise going by then.

I like how NPCs interact with each other.

          The clothier, Gaye, is another Fellowship member. She sells swamp boots, which I note for when I can afford them. Wilhelm is the baker, absolutely in love with his craft, partly because “the way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach.” Right now, he’s juggling two women, Jeanette and Gaye. He thinks he’s too good for Jeanette, “a tavern wench,” and he’s not sure about Gaye because she’s a Fellowship member. So he’s a bit of a jerk but also he has good judgement. Wilhelm offers to hire me to bake bread and also says he’ll buy sacks of flour from me if I get them wholesale in Paws.         

Learning breadmaking in Wilhelm’s kitchen.

          The process of baking bread is a testament to this game engine’s flexibility but also a commentary on the limited utility of that flexibility. To make a loaf of bread, you must:         

Double-click a sack of flour to open it.

Double-click the sack again and click a table to spread it out. 

Double-click a pail of water and use it on the flour to make dough.

Click and drag the dough to the oven to bake it.

Wait for the icon to change to bread.

         Do this five times and Wilhelm will give you one gold piece for the bread. The problem is that water and flour run out fast, so you have to go buy more or dip the bucket in the well. If you were paid in the real world with real gold, I’m still not sure it would be a good hourly rate. Nevertheless, the Internet is full of people who swear that back in the day, they spent countless hours baking bread in Ultima VII–disgusting, unleavened bread, I might add, consisting of nothing but flour and water.          It’s getting dark as I leave the bakery, so I head to the Blue Boar for the night. The tavern is run by Lucy and staffed by a waitress named Jeanette. Their house band is called “The Avatars” and includes a moonlighting Coop. For the third or fourth time, I have the choice to introduce myself as “Gideon” or “Avatar.” I figure the latter signifies a lack of humility. Anyway, it turns out the Blue Boar is just a tavern, not an inn and tavern, so I head back to the castle to sleep.        The next morning, I pick up where I left off. I open the door to a random house and find Shamino in bed with a female “entertainer.” They both start yelling at me for entering the house uninvited. Shamino doesn’t seem at all surprised to see me. He reiterates that magic isn’t working and mages are going crazy, including Nickademus in the Great Forest. He gives me a pocketwatch that I apparently left the last time I was in Britannia. (It’s actually very helpful to know what time it is at any given moment.) The woman he was in bed with is an actress named Amber. Once he finds out about the murder in Trinsic, he agrees to join the party. He comes with a sword and shield, no armor, and a slice of ham. I give him some of the armor items I’d been expecting to sell.             

You guys need to work on your terms of endearment.

          West of Lord British’s castle is a playground where the kids from the nursery go when they’re not in the nursery. The park features a sword-in-a-stone, but I can’t seem to pull it out despite doing well on the park’s “strength test.” Southwest of that, I meet my first trainer–a young man named Zella who specializes in hand-to-hand combat. I actually have gained a level since the game began, and I have 6 training points, but we’ll cover training and leveling later.           

This faux Early Modern English is getting out of hand.

           South of him is another trainer, Sentri, who offers to join the party. Sentri has been around since Ultima II, which took place on Earth, so I guess that explains his long life, although I must point out that he’s fallen from baron of Serpent’s Hold (Ultima IV) to a sword trainer in Britain. I let him back in the party, though it’s getting pretty big now. Sentri comes with both a one-handed and two-handed sword, a bow with one arrow, and a side of ribs. I was about to complain about him having no armor, but it turns out he has a full set of plat armor behind a locked door, the key found in his dresser. I distributed the pieces.           

It’s about time someone brought something to this party besides a grumbling stomach.

           Kessler the Apothecary has been working for Lord British, studying increasing addiction to silver snake venom. He’ll pay me 50 gold pieces for every vial I can bring him. (I know where I could get eight if I was willing to steal.) Csil the healer has independently developed germ theory and is working on a microscope to see the germs he hypothesizes; he’s not a fan of the Fellowship and their disbelief in actual medicine. Greg runs the adventuring equipment shop and happens to mention that he recently sold equipment to the Avatar–probably the same guy who signed his name at the Salty Dog.              

Ultima VII becomes the third RPG to feature venereal diseases.

                 I find the Wayfarer’s Inn, which I had been looking for last night, just a block from the tavern. The innkeeper, James, hates his job but feels he has to keep doing it for the sake of his wife, Cynthia. He worries that because she works at the mint, she’ll begin to covet money and expect him to make more and more, then leave him when he can’t. I wonder if this is a phenomenon that befouls the marriages of bank tellers. I’ve never known one. I later meet Judith at the Mint, and she tells me to relate to James that she still loves him. (I do, and he becomes happier.) I can bring her gold bars or nuggets to convert to gold coins. There’s also a famous way to kill her, steal her key, loot the mint, and get Lord British to resurrect her, but I won’t be doing that.         At Town Hall–which has no other employees despite several offices–I meet Patterson the Mayor. He’s also President of the Britannian Tax Council. (I guess I was wrong in my last entry about never meeting them.) He brags that he won an overwhelming victory over his last opponent, Brownie–naturally because he had the support of the Fellowship. He denies that Britain has a class system but keeps betraying it with his own words. He says his marriage to Judith, a teacher at the Music Hall, is wonderful.         

Just keep digging, buddy.

         When asked about the murder, he relates that the victim was a man named Finster, a politician who wanted more power for the Great Council and wanted to disband the Fellowship. His mutilated, beheaded body was found in an abandoned building near the castle which has since been demolished. Honestly, the Fellowship has been so obviously evil since the beginning that it might have been a better twist if they had turned out to be a bunch of well-meaning-but-clueless people.       Judith runs the Music Hall and contrary to her husband thinks her marriage is in trouble. She doesn’t like the growing power of the Fellowship, and she says that Patterson sometimes stays out all night.

Next to the Music Hall is the Royal Theater, which has a lot of the town’s humor. The director, Raymundo (an in-game avatar of lead writer Raymond Benson), is staging a 100-hour play called The Trials of the Avatar. An old actor named Jesse is playing the Avatar. He’s struggling to remember his most important lines: “Name!,” “Job!,” and “Bye!” No one else is happy with his role, including the self-proclaimed greatest actor in the world, Laurence, who is playing Iolo, and Shamino’s squeeze, Amber, who is playing Sherry the Mouse. Laurence is also practicing his lines, including: “This is the Dungeon Despise!,” “Ready the bow to use it!,” and “I hear something to the east!”           

The actors practice their respective lines.

        Raymundo suggests that I understudy for the Avatar, first by purchasing an “Avatar costume” at Gaye’s shop. It costs 30 gold pieces, which is a lot of money just to see a joke to the end. Upon returning, I read my lines and Raymundo says that I’m unconvincing as the Avatar.          

“Thou must taste like the Avatar!”

         The Royal Museum houses the Runes of Virtue, the Stones of Virtue, the Avatar’s old swamp boots, the Vortex Cube, the silver horn used by the gargoyles to summon silver snakes, statues of Lord British and the Avatar, the Avatar’s ankh, and . . . the Britannian and gargoyle lenses! What are they doing here?! Wasn’t the whole point of the last game creating these lenses so that the two respective rulers could use them to consult the Codex?         

I remember when we literally had to walk through fire for these.

         The curator, Candice, is no help. A Fellowship member, she almost immediately lets it slip that she’s sleeping with Patterson. (When I confront Patterson later, he just sputters, and there’s no option to say anything to his wife.) Iolo suggests that we steal the Stones of Virtue because they can still be used to cast “Mark” and “Recall” spells. I honestly don’t remember doing that in any previous game. I mean, between the Magic Carpet and the Orb of Moons, it’s not like the party is hurting for modes of transportation.

As evening falls, I make a quick run down to Paws. Alina is still in the shelter, but she has received word from Weston that he’s free and working temporarily for Lord British so that he may return to her with some money in his pocket. Morfin sells me mutton for 3 gold pieces each; boots agreed to pay me 5. I buy 10 pieces to bring her.             

I guess Weston didn’t bother to write about my involvement.

          One thing that I’m noticing is that a lot of events slow the game to a stutter. It’s usually when there’s too much animation on the screen. If the party is walking past a few other walking people at the same time a storm cloud passes overhead, forget it. I can deal with the problem by just hitting CTRL-F12 and increasing the number of cycles in DOSBox, but it must have been maddening on an era PC.       Interactivity notes:

Move any furniture that it would be reasonable for a single person to lift.

Open and close shutters.

Turn gas lamps on and off.

          Wasn’t Shadowlands doing this the same year and bragging? Ultima VII did dynamic lighting as an incidental part of gameplay.

               Fill a bucket from a well.

Light and douse torches in wall sconces.

Double-click a bale of wool and use it on a spinning wheel to create yarn. Use the yarn on a loom to create fabric. Use a pair of shears on the fabric to make bandages.

             The Avatar works a loom–without dropping his sword.

          Sit down at a harp or harpsichord and double-click on it to play it. (Unfortunately, you can’t really play them by pressing keys for notes the way you could in V.) Instruments don’t seem to interrupt the game music (if you have it on); they just show a series of graphic notes.

Double-click the winches next to the castle portcullis to raise and lower them. There’s one on both sides, which somewhat defeats the purpose.

            I end this session standing in front of the Fellowship Hall, contemplating whether I really want to try to infiltrate the organization by joining, or whether I’d rather proclaim my animosity from the start. Granted, I don’t have many leads if I don’t join (it may even be necessary), but I wonder if it wouldn’t make a more interesting (and less traditional) game if I stopped following the official path here and tried to piece together the mystery without the duplicity. Next time, we’ll see what I decided.           Time so far: 10 hours         

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/the-black-gate-wee-britain/

[thepeakmoment]

More Returns

Here's a superb podcast on Peaks. May 30 is the most recent episode. A great listen. Counter Esperanto Podcast: Tangents About Twin Peaks: 10th Secret: The Return

On Tue, Jun 13, 2017 at 1:53 PM, Dom wrote: I'll check it out tonight.

So my Diane prediction was on the fucking money.

I got another theory I'm working on.

Who's the mysterious billionaire? I heard some people say it may be Audrey Horne. I heard some people say it is Jack (John Justice Wheeler). I heard some people say it is Phillip Jeffries or Evil Cooper.

Put on your tinfoil hat for this one. The Billionaire is Leo Johnson. He lived through his spider ordeal. Then he took everything that Windom left behind (notes, computer files, other assorted Windom things) and built a criminal empire. I find it very hard to believe that the fucking casting director's son who was in the 1st two seasons and the fucking movie is NOT in this one.

The secret history of twin peaks tells us what happens to a bunch of characters like Leo. For instance Hank dies in prison. But not one word in the book about Leo? I got to believe that he lives and he’s not just a slobbering fool any more. I know this is probably not going to happen. But that's my theory.

I cannot imagine Leo is a rich billionaire — how did he make his money? A theory that makes sense I’ve heard on EW TP podcast that it could be BOB-Cooper attempting to catch Good Cooper if he ever left the Lodge. But really, I have no idea… not as of end of P7.

I like how Lynch-Frost are using all official Twin Peaks releases as canon to draw the narrative from — Laura’s Diary, FWWM, Missing Pieces of blu-ray edition, as well as many classic episode threads.

And like Erik, I KNOW, that Sheriff Harry S. Truman will make an appearance in this season. I feel it in my bones.

It’s looking grim for Harry — or rather, it sounds grim from Frank saying to Harry, “beat this thing.” But actually I can see Ontkean coming out of retirement to have a role toward the end of the series. I also (want to) believe Josie returning … maybe she’s the billionaire, but why would she make such a contraption mounted to the side of building?

On Sun, Jun 25, 2017 at 2:26 AM, Erik wrote: Good Morning Gents. Grab a cup a joe and settle down a minute. I got some backed up information for yous … << Starts Tape Recorder…. >>

Spot on is right Mr Domi. You got that Diane was Laura Dern AND that she drinks at the Pub we went to. I even want to say she is seated in the area of the bar that we were sitting at that night.  Glad it wasn't raining when we went, "FUCK Gene Kelly, You mother fucker!!" LOL I love Albert, he is my favorite this season. (Location: Max Von's Bar = Casey's Irish Pub, 619 South Grand, LA)

So Episode 7 should have shut up all those whiner's and complainer's of Ep 6. There was a lot of hate on the internet, and even in our FB Group, about that episode. I was ok with it. I did not like the scene with the kid getting hit by the truck, but the scene ended with the Fat Trout Telephone pole, so I'm ok with it.

"Lynch has gotten flak for the male gaze in his work, but the problems go a lot deeper than lingering shots on female anatomy.…” Laura Hudson in Vulture.

Also in EP 6 we finally got two major new pieces of music from Angelo, not his best work, but still great to hear.  The overall lack of his music is my biggest complaint this season in case I didn't make that clear.

When Johnny Jewel's Windswept first appeared, I thought that was Badalamenti  finally debuting new music. I was definitely disappointed it was not Angelo, no disrespect to Johnny. But I agree with you Erik about no AB original score. That music is what made classic Peaks so memorable. I don’t get why Lynch is using such popular music. There really wan’t any such tracks in FWWM, it was Angelo’s music and further cemented Peaks as evergreen. Lynch is acting like Scorcese in the epic cinematic story… and he doesn’t need to. Marty did not have a Badalamenti in his arsenal. Lynch does. Please use him.

EP 7...There's a body alright.. is definitely the shit. Now we are cooking. Jerry!!!! Come out of it man... Lets get Ben and Jerry back in action, not disfunction. The diary pages, Annie's message from FWWM, Leland hiding pages, DIANE from hell! ... Bringing it all back home.

There’s a dark undercurrent with Diane and Cooper. All signs are indicating something very bad happened to Diane. I think BOB-Cooper raped her.

I wonder where Frank Truman was at the time of Laura's murder? He says he remembers Leland, her father, did it, but is not really familiar with the case. BUT why the heck is Frank not asking "So what is "the Lodge" you keep talking about?” Hawk?

The way Hawk talks so knowledgable about both Lodges and the way Frank does not question or disbelieve him, then it must be common knowledge among the indigenous culture. Wonder if Frank is a Bookhouse Boy?

Ancient Doc Hayward, kinda sad, but he was still funny. Did you catch his Skype name?  MiddleburyDoc... Warren Frost was actually living in VT right? They probably actually did just Skype him and screen capture it…lol

I caught that right away about Warren Frost’s Skype handle. And no doubt, Frost stayed in Vermont to do his scene. That just recorded the screen.… I do miss Briggs. Yet he died long before Lynch-Frost’s three-year tenure writing the new story, they had plenty of time to work the presence of him into the story.

Briggsy.. Oh Major Briggs. how we miss thee. Should be interesting how this plays out. And When the hell are we going to go back to I bet the road where Andy is waiting to meet the Truck owner is up there at Frankln Canyon Pond.

The Dog Leg.... WTF?  Is Joe McCluskey the guy that rigged the car and Mr C Killed earlier on? I do think the Psycho Little guy with the Ice Pick and Gun is kinda silly. Over the top for no reason.  Oh well.… It's kinda silly also that no one has taken Dougie to the Doctor. Everyone just plays along. we have to suspend disbelief I guess.

OMG enough with the guy sweeping at the Roadhosue. Is this all the extra time he told Shotime he needed more money for to tell the story properly?  lol and more music used in hundreds of shows and commercials. I love Booker T and the MGs don't get me wrong, but ... UGH I miss you Angelo... Also... Kinda weird to see Jean Michel... Did Jacque Renault have a twin brother? lol Mr. C and Ray getting out of Prison.. Bad stuff gonna happen. I think they might have used San Bernadino County Jail for this locaton. The Cell block Cooper is located on looks familar.  I will compare some screen grabs from my Locaton and Publicity Photos we took for Beyond Scared Straight at that jail.

And beause they needed to pad the ending to get to the alloted running time... Back to the RR Diner for the end scene, and yet another over-used stock song they probably had to pay more to use than what they paid Angelo for everything. Plus, I liked that song better when they used it in the X-files episode “Home" but No, I'm not bitter.

General notes: Glad Naomi Watts has such a big part. She really owns her scenes. Wish Jennifer Jason Leigh was more present but Mr C just left Jail for somewhere... It's slightly brilliant how Lynch (but probably Frost came up with it) still has made Harry a character in the show. even if only on the phone and never even heard. I feel like Harry is there kinda. Also brilliant... Robert Forrester.... wow. Wish he was in the original or the movie. Not sure how I feel with Dern as Diane. I'll go with it and see what happens.

Outstanding questions for me....(cause I haven't been reading blogs or listening to podcasts)

What is up with all the Arthurian Legend references? Dougie lives on Lancalot Court, down the street from the Merlin Market. Janey-E meets for the ransom drop on the corner of Gueneivere and Merlin. And of course, Glastonbury Grove... Pete Martel: "King Arthur's burried in England!"

Why is it when Dougie puts his thumb up or his hand out to shake, he turns his body 180 degrees?

What is up with the creepy guy (from Mulholland Diner scene) in the Vegas Office? I can't seem to catch his meaning in the story line.

What is up with Cooper's Room Key from the Great Northern? If has finally made it back to Ben Horne...Soooo?

One last question... Did Lynch quit smoking?  He made two references to people (Gordon Cole even) quitting. Did we ever even see Cole smoke in the series or movie? weird for him to say he quit when the character never smoked on camera. "You think about that Tammy."

On Jun 25, 2017, at 4:29 PM, Dom wrote: I think Frank Truman was a police officer in Seattle during Laura's investigation if I remember the book correctly. But I think that a "Sheriff Truman" has been in power for over 60 consecutive years now between the 2 brothers and their father. It sort of like there must always be a Stark in Winterfell.

To my knowledge that was the first time ever we have heard name Joe McCluskey. I have no clue who that is. But I have a feeling we will learn.

Yea, I don’t recollect Joe McCluskey. Gotta watch again to see if he first appears or is mentioned earlier.

I think Ike the Spike is either from the black lodge or an agent of the black lodge. Remember he smelled "funny" per the little girl.

Spike did look a little monstery, his teeth especially.

I actually loved that scene of the sweeping. I could just imagine everyone watching was freaking out and I enjoyed that. And I thought that Walter did some great acting while on the phone as Jean-Michel. "He owes me for two!"

That ending scene from the RR diner was weird as shit. Its either the worst continuity error of all time or something truly weird happened there. Completely different set of people dining there after David Lynch's son runs in and asks if anyone has seen Billy.

Lynch did not quit smoking. He, like Harry Dean are lifers.

Both Laura Dern and Naomi Watts are killing their roles. Both doing a fantastic job. I just cannot wait to see them come face to face over Dougie.

And MacLachlan! All his Cooper iterations are really well done. I love that BOB-Cooper character. Can’t wait to see what trouble he kicks up now!

My new tin foil theory is that we may be dealing with 2 Twin Peaks. Twins of each other if you will. I'm still working this one out. Different versions of the same town in different universes a part of a greater multiverse?

Did you notice Andy was wearing a rolex? Kind of weird.

…And he was supposed to meet the guy at 4:30. Is that one of the numbers from ????? ?

The guy from the Vegas office is working directly for Phillip Jeffries or whoever is pretending to be him IMO.

Don’t overlook the black soot guy walking in the hallway toward the female FBI agent in the morgue. I think it’s related to the guy next to Bill Hastings cell.…

Lots of Arthurian Legend stuff from way back when. I never got that. But its seems to be very important. I would love to go to Merlin's Market.

During the end credits from the last episode buried in the music is Windham Earle's theme mixed into the background too!!!!!

I might try headphones for tonight’s part to see exactly what sounds I miss. I know there’s a lot of low audible noise and rumbling that I don’t hear when our apartment is 86º and the fan is going.…

On Jun 25, 2017, at 8:10 PM, Dom wrote: Some last minute thoughts...

Yeah I agree about MacLachlan is killing it and should win an Emmy for best actor. Black soot guy is awesome and its the same dude for sure from the jail cell. Some people seem to think we have seen him a third time as a homeless man outside of Vegas at the Rachera Rosa is whatever it is called. I don't think that we did. I will need to re-watch that again. Another tin foil hat theory. On those three pages from Laura's diary she refers to knowing who it is and that its not Bob. At least everyone thinks she is referencing Leland. That is probably most right. However I am thinking that she is referring to an evil more powerful and sadistic than even Bob.Like whatever came out of the glass box and mutilated those younglings.

On Jun 25, 2017, at 8:17 PM, Erik wrote: > "Yea, I don’t recollect Joe McCluskey."

I am thinking if the guy in the diner eating food non-stop the whole scene with Ray and the chick Mr C shot in the head.  Just before he kills her, he tells her "i killed joe, and the she freaks out, knowing the gig is up.   The previous scene the eating guy "joe" does something to a car in storage and then cooper like squeezes his face for a whole minute.   Could be McCluskey?

> "Lynch did not quit smoking."

Well, its mighty fine of him to send a non smoking message to all the youths. Considering Cole does not smoke, it is a conscious message.

> "All his Cooper iterations are really well done."

Yes, Kyle will def get an Emmy nomination. Dern and Watts will also I predict.  

> “RR diner was weird as shit. Its either the worst continuity error of all time or something truly weird happened there.”

There are no accidents on a Lynch set. If an error occurs and he likes it he will use it. So who knows why he did it. On the same level as the windows  flashing code on the FBI jet.  He is throwing out decoys i feel.  

> “then it (the Lodge) must be common knowledge among the indigenous culture.”

Then why the heck is Truman not like "well lets go up there" nor does Hawk tell him he was up in those woods when Log Lady last called.

> “Don’t overlook the black soot guy walking in the hallway”

Nope, I did not mention him cause i consider it another decoy.  Kinda like the shambling being behind the diner in Mulholland Drive...never came up again. i am sure he will play a part at some point.  

But i did forget to mention the playing card Mr. C  showed the girl in the hotel bed before he shoots her.  Aliens? Very well could be.

Have a good viewing. The damn internet saying EP 8 is extra noteworthy. Could it be Phillip Jeffries? Windom Earl?  More Leland and Laura? (I actually doubt we will see either of them again).  Audrey? Big Ed? They got plenty of options.

Cheers! ~G

Sent from the Black Lodge.

[almostentirelylost-blog]

Berlin Adventures

Day two of Berlin exploration was a raging success.

The first thing to be noted is that for a tourist Berlin is a silly, wonderful place.  Mostly silly. What fun though.  I started my day off with a leisurely breakfast and then made my way to the Technikmuseum.  It’s a trio of buildings that consist of an ancient train station, and two newer multi-story warehouses all filled with technological relics of Germany’s past. Absolutely glorious, gorgeous, and wonderful.  I can’t say I’ve ever seen as much history packed into one building before.  It’s any geek’s dreamland.  I’ll post some of the pictures I took of it at some point, but it might take me a little bit since internet connections aren’t exactly a common thing for me right now (staying with my grandparents and don’t really like bringing my laptop into the city, grandparents don’t have/want internet). Anyways, one of the newer buildings is devoted entirely to nautical/aerial tech.  Four stories tall and enormous, you could spend an entire day in that building alone. Floor one is devoted to all of the earliest creations in seafaring ways, complete with incredibly detailed, scale models of earlier sailboat/ships ( I don’t know what they’re called but think like pirate ships ) That and the first attempts at underwater travel.  That’s a helluva’ thing, by the way, what the first submarines were like.  I cannot believe that someone willing crammed themselves into one of those little tubes and let someone else drop them into the ocean in it.  Mostly replicas, lots of history, and a whole bunch of navigational artifacts.

 Floor two starts off with the German beginnings in flight, along the lines of the Wright brothers, but a lot more geared towards gliders and single person helicopter like contraptions.  Oh and an intro to wartime flight and weaponry, along with the very beginnings of German rocketry.  Especially towards the end when they start gearing you more towards the next floor up, which is the continuation of WWI developments and the intro to commercial air travel.  The first few Lufthansa planes are incredibly small and rickety looking, and yet the interior is posh like it’s designed for the very richest of the elite, which it likely was!  Rockets are cool, by the way.  I won’t go into detail on the next couple floors, since it’s all just progressively more modern continuations of the above.  Wartime history is a little more detailed here than what I got in school, and that’s all I’m going to say.

Another notable part of this building is that the first computer ever built is stored there, even though it’s barely a computer and more of a ridiculously big calculator.  The next few additions are stored there as well, or on loan from other museums.  It’s pretty crazy how big 1mb of ram looks like.

 Next building is the train station, which I think was actually an old Nazi depot and train station, or was maybe taken over by them. I don’t actually know that, but it would stand to reason.  Filled with engines, and I mean like… engine blocks as well as train engines, all from the oldest models to some of the newer ones.  Just barely outside of this is a supremely cool old brewery and a very pretty little park.  Pictures of these will come at some point as well. I’d like to note real quickly that at the time of writing this, I’m sitting in a 100 something year old bar in Neu-Westend drinking a beer and a whiskey, and watching some old guy winning hundred of Euros at a slot machine.   Anyways, if trains or airplanes or ships are your thing, then this is a place you should visit.  If you don’t like any of those, then visit anyways (insert expletives involving science).

 The last building is essential a four story tall science playground for children.  There are only two things that I will point out about this one.  There are live electrical experiments to play with, and there is also a cloud chamber.

Part Two of This Silly Day

 Oh did I mention that this is a two part day?  It is, it was long and fun, and my feet hurt now.  From the Technikmuseum I wandered over to Potsdamer Platz, about a half hour walk. This is the technological, modern center of Berlin. I don’t know if it’s quite the downtown, but it sure seems like it is.  I did a nice walk around the square and then settled down at a little Bavarian restaurant for food.  Radler and bratwurst with sauerkraut and mashed potatoes, an excellent decision. I didn’t exactly intend to stay for more than that, but there was a table across from me consisting of Texans that were just too funny to listen to, so I stayed.  Nothing quite like Americans complaining about the fact that water/soda isn’t automatically served with ice.  Really, I enjoy these little cultural differences; they’re what make people-watching (one of my favorite activities) so much fun. So I drank another radler and watched them, and after the whole affair I introduced myself.  Turns out that one of the guys (supposedly) was the guy that did all the lighting stuff in the Invesco field in Denver.  Who knows how accurate that is, but hey I got a free beer just because I spoke English with an American accent.

 Potsdamer Platz is an impressive place, and the Sony center is exactly what it sounds like, a huge technological wonderland as a testament to that corporation’s might.  That’s where the Blue Man Group seems to be based, I’ve seen them before so I didn’t go to a show, but I might before I leave Berlin.  Next up are the shopping malls.

 This doesn’t necessarily need a paragraph, but whatever. Imagine the biggest American shopping mall you’ve been to, and then load it up with French and Japanese clothing outlets, and add in tourists speaking languages from all over the world, and then you know what those are like.  Also our elderly gambling friend is now down a hundred Euros, and I’m considering buying him a beer to help him cope with that fact.  

 Through all of this I should really emphasize how much I like public transportation in this city. There are three basic modes; U-Bahn, S-Bahn, and busses.  U-Bahn is the subway, S-Bahn is (for you Denverites) the lightrail, and busses are busses.  The point being that you can get literally anywhere in this city and the outlying suburbia via one system or other, or a combination, and it’s all extremely simple and cheap to do.  A day pass for all three modes of transport costs 9 Euros, and one way passes are 2 Euros a piece.  Now you might be thinking “well that’s not really that cheap “but considering how far and how directly you can travel with these systems, it works out pretty well.

 Next and final downtown stop for me was the musical instruments museum.  I’m such a nerd for music and old instruments… that sort of place are perfect for me.  They had an early Stradivari violin on display, along with countless other brands of violins, violas, harpsichords, guitars, pianos, harps… the list goes on. So many instruments from all time periods.  Didn’t know that the hurdy-gurdy is an old French peasant instrument, and I bet you didn’t know that either.  They also had one of those full-sized old Catholic church organs that I very dearly wanted to play, but likely would have gotten arrested for if I had.  The real kicker to this place is that they host concerts of all sorts with musicians from all over the world.  All classical, of course, and all in an acoustically perfect concert hall.  I had the dumb luck of timing it perfectly, and got to see an Austrian piano prodigy named Mathis Bereuter play Hersant, Beethoven, and Prokofiev live.  Beautiful music and he’s no older than I am.  Fun little racist moment too from the elderly lady sitting next to me, when after the performance she leaned over and whispered “He’s not German, but at least he’s not the usual Asian type that plays here”.

Anyways!  That’s the end of the day.  Next up is the part where I’m sitting at a 100 year old bar, drinking a delicious Berliner Pilsner, and still just… watching this guy gamble away.  He’s still losing, by the way, for those of you that are cheering for the guy.  I know I am I want to see him make it big, damnit!

 Until tomorrow!

 Bis morgen!