#speaking of that art��still trying my best to figure out how his dialogue is meant to sound?

[hp-lonesome-actual-art]

Another batch or Mr. Puzzles quick sketches. I kept forgetting to draw his side pocket in the last couple ones. Random character featured in the little comic-ish Live Interview is some version of doodlesona. Can’t guarantee the dialogue will be believable/sound in character for Puzzles because honestly I’m still working on understanding his talking style and when he sarcastically jokes around or when he chooses to be serious and drop performance act. But in the off chance you wanna read it goes from left to right with reading

[awkwardnoob]

hi yes hello i would like to hear you talk about the parallels between Alfyn and Darius please

O_O I never expected an ask like this, so it kind of sucker punched me and I'm in shock. I was expecting anon hate or something because that's what usually happens when I get asks out of the blue. Thank you anon you're so sweet!

Warning: Possible Spoilers

Okay, so first off, the best part: A lot of this has a decent chance of being entirely intentional because of how Octopath handles its storytelling, which I'll get to later.

Also, getting the most obvious parallel out of the way: They both wear green. Which seems silly and like a coincidence, but when you look at the other stuff it becomes suspiciousTM.

The biggest thing, obviously, is their personalities and relationship to Therion. Even if you don't believe Therion's relationship with either is shippy and are entirely platonic, Therion is still a key component of why they parallel. (Speaking of, Therion also parallels Miguel a little bit, which is some minor evidence to why this whole thing was intentional)

Darius doesn't trust anyone, he's shady, he's dishonest, disloyal, and he threw Therion off a cliff after acting like they were brothers for years. Anytime Darius opens his mouth and seems friendly, he's just trying to use that person. When they're no longer useful, or something better comes along, he throws people away. He's greedy to the 10th power and beyond.

Alfyn though? He doesn't have a dishonest bone in his body. Anytime someone mentions that he could get more by taking advantage, or hell, even just doing the bare minimum and making all his patients pay him, he just goes "but why tho" like this is some foreign concept to him. Even the customers he does charge (which he does occasionally, when they're not poor), he still undercharges them. He attaches himself to people like the most clingy of puppies and people happily accept him with open arms. That's how his 'inquire' skill works. Even having Therion tell Alfyn during his chap 1 all about his plans to rob Ravus is justified, because Alfyn can inquire shady criminals too! Cyrus' works kinda like he's being sneaky with his questions and interrogating people into spilling the beans, but Alfyn's is literally just 'I'm nice and lovable, answer all my questions'. Alfyn's 'worst' behavior was just pricking Venessa with slumber thorn and giving her horrible guilt induced nightmares, which is just mildly mischievous compared to her crime of knowingly almost murdering several people including children, or Darius' crime of getting close to Therion (for years!) only to throw him off a cliff for money.

Also, here is the thing: Most of the travelers have dialogue in their travel banters with Therion that denounce his life as a thief in some way. The ones who don't are A) Primrose, who is out to murder some fuckers and would be a hypocrite, and B) Alfyn. He's wholesome and supportive to Therion in every damn banter. He tells Therion he has his back in both Therion's chap 3 and 4 banters. Unlike Darius, he means it. Even in Therion's chapter 2, Alfyn is impressed by Therion and trying to crack into that prickly, chestnut like exterior, not denouncing his occupation (and in chap 3 Alfyn says Therion/Therion's job has a time and place in the world too, while Darius told Therion he wasn't useful and was meant to be thrown away)

Now we get into how I know all of this shit is likely entirely intentional: Octopath puts passive character behavior into fucking everything. Have Olberic challenge most of the people in his starting town, and instead of reacting in terror or being confused, they know who Olberic is and most are like "sure dude let's tussle". Cyrus believes knowledge is to be shared. His special ability has him figure out an enemies weakness because he's such a smarty, and what does he do? He immediately shares this knowledge with the party.

So what does that have to do with Darius and Alfyn? Easy, Darius' weaknesses as a boss. Darius is weak to both Axes and Ice, the things Alfyn can use without subclassing. Sure, Cyrus can use ice and H'aanit can use axes, but neither have both unless they subclass.

But we're not done with that yet! Because his OTHER weaknesses are spears and wind. Tressa's natural abilities. The other natural parallel to thieves are merchants (so Tressa parallels both Therion and Darius). Why choose Alfyn's natural weakness exploits if Tressa was the only parallel? Because Alfyn is a parallel too! To Darius specifically. Alfyn has been supporting Therion this whole time, being exactly the kind of honest and loyal person Therion needs after being betrayed. You think it was Cordelia and Heathcote doing that? Fuck no, they interacted like 6 times tops for 5 minutes his entire story. It was Alfyn and the other travelers who defrosted Therion, and Alfyn being a natural counter to Darius in the boss fight, plus all this other shit, tells me Alfyn had a lot to do with it. If they just wanted you to bring a healer, they could have had Darius be weak to staves and/or light too, but no, they picked both weakness exploits of the healer who already has parallels him. You're meant to bring Alfyn.

They also get paired up often in outside material. They're together as a spirit in smash bros, white day had Therion comforting Alfyn, there is an entire novel with side stories that group up the travelers into 2s, and Alfyn and Therion are their own group, in a chapter titled 'trust and betrayal' with an illustration to boot, and there is a group art where Alfyn has his arm around Therion and Therion seems to passively accept this rather than being angry or trying to shove him off. Outside material stresses their bond with each other, and the other person Therion was shown to have a strong bond with (tho unknowingly one sided) was Darius. It's all clearly very intentional that Darius and Alfyn are meant to parallel each other, even if they don't properly interact in game.

Hopefully this pleases you anon. I tried to remember everything.

[nomstellations]

what’s your favorite trope in vore? write it ♥︎

Anon bless your soul bc I got to write something very self indulgent that only appeals to me, probably. This might be a blend of more than one favorite trope, but hey! I loved writing this! It’s pretty long, so apologies to you guys for that ; ; I love dialogue!

Inkopolis was a bustling hub of culture and activity, filled to the brim with seafolk of all kinds. Nestled in the corner of the plaza was a cafe known as the Coral Reef, which was notably quieter than the area around it. Inside it seemed as though things were slow, with only one cashier behind the counter and a handful of inklings enjoying their snacks. Artemis, the colossal inkling behind the counter, is staring off into space with a rather dreamy expression on his face. Truth be told he was waiting on a certain someone he adored to come in today, and the gentle chime of the door being opened got his attention. In strolled an ink stained inkling, one he knew very well and it caused him to grin. “Well, if it isn’t the one and only~ You look like you’ve been in a fight or two.” The small bobtail squid strides up to the counter, sighing as she tries to wipe ink off herself. “Ugh, hey Artie...ranked was a struggle today. What’s with the look, did you get a raise or something?” He shook his head and stood up to his full height, reaching under the counter and handing her a towel to dry herself off with. “No no Ace, I was just thinking about some things. Thanks for bringing me back to reality, as you tend to do berry blue~” Ace takes the towel and wipes her face, hiding the small blush Art’s baritone voice brought her. He was always a big flirt, but he always laid it on a bit thicker with her. She figured it was just how he was, but she couldn’t help but get blue in the face when he directed them at her. Setting down the towel, she yawns and stares up at the menu. “So, whatcha got today? I’m starved after all that action!” “Well~” He hummed, gesturing to the display case full of treats. “I just finished setting out some of our house specials and a few fruit cheesecakes! I’ve been working on a little secret that may be on the menu as well, buuuut it could use some taste testing to assure its quality!” Ace’s eyebrows raised in curiosity, interested in the new development. “A secret, huh? Mind telling me, your best customer??” She smiled at him, and one to match it slowly grew on Art’s face.

If he can pull this off...he’ll have her right where he wants her.

“Well...it wouldn’t be a secret if I said it during business hours, but you are my best~” He leaned down to whisper it into the much smaller squid’s ear, taking note that she smells deliciously sweet as always. “Red Velvet Cake~ How’s about you come try it for me? You’ve got good taste!” Literally. Or, so he hoped. Ace visibly perked up, that was her favorite! And Artemis made the best cakes, she almost immediately jumped on the offer but a realization gave her pause. That back room...she’s seen a few inklings go back there with him, but only he ever stepped back out. She was suspicious, but the allure of her favorite dessert was a hard one to resist...going back for just one slice shouldn’t hurt. “Alright, you got me...I’ll just have a slice, I wanna get back to turf!” Artemis can hardly contain his delight, he’s been waiting so long for this day! “Ah, so the blue beauty finally joins me for a tasting session...I must say, I’m honored~” He opens the little door that separates the two of them, beckoning for her to come back with him. “Layin’ it on kinda thick there, Artie.” She grumbles as she follows his lead, trying to ignore the blush on her cheeks. He opens the door to the back for her with a wide smile, the light glinting a bit off of his fangs. Curiously and a bit hesitantly, she peers into the room and is met with the sweet scent of things baking. There’s a tray of muffins cooling on the table, along with a covered pan. Is that it? As if he was reading her mind, the orange-hued inkling stepped forward and pulled the cover off, revealing the red dusted cake to her with a mock bow. “Ta-daaa~ A lovely cake for the lovely little lady.”  Ace gasps in delight, moving over to get a closer look. “Oh, Artie...that looks so good! Cut me a slice please!” He’s way ahead of her, slicing through the moist cake as she says this and cutting her a sizable piece. “Your wish is my command, sweetness~ Enjoy!” Ace smiles at him and wastes no time digging into the moist cake, humming in delight at its sweet flavor. It doesn’t take long for her to finish it, and she pushes the plate away with a happy sigh. “That was a perfect pre-game snack, thank you so much! This’ll be a big hit with the customers, I guarantee it!”  “Thank you for your input, but is it good enough for seconds?” He nudges another slice onto her plate as he says this, it’s slightly bigger than the last. “Well, I don’t want to get sick fighting...after this I’m going to get going, okay?” The cake was eaten so as not to disappoint her large friend, and when she was finished she stood up and prepared to leave, much to Artemis’ dismay. “You’re leaving so soon? Ace my dear, I haven’t seen you all day...why don’t we talk about how you are over a third slice of cake?” Ace stared at him a bit suspiciously, why did he want her to eat so much of it? “Third…? That’s a lot of cake and I’m just one squid, I want to stay in fighting shape!”“Oh darling, every shape of yours is flattering and ready for a fight~ I baked this with love knowing you’d see me today...won’t you eat my gift to you?” She blushed, her tentacles curling up a bit as he mixes a few flirts into his words. “It’s a lot, can’t I just take it home?” Artemis’ stomach growls impatiently, he better move fast...charming her is fun and all, but his cravings are growing stronger by the moment. “I would much rather see those cute cheeks puffed out as you finish it off...come on, it’s taking you on! The great Ace could finish off a cake just as easily as she can wipe a team!” Ace nervously eyes the cake, it was smaller than what he’d normally bake as it was for tasting purposes, but it was still a lot for her. However, it’s at his insistence, and she didn’t want to waste something he made specifically for her… “Alright, fine. You owe me if I can finish this off!” “Oh not to worry, you’ll definitely be rewarded~” He smiles, trying to keep his exterior calm as he watches his plan work beautifully. Ace drills through the cake despite her previous remarks, leaving her with a visibly stuffed stomach that Artemis eyes hungrily. He didn’t want to abuse her competitive spirit but it was worth it, it’s about time for him to eat.... The sound of a chair scraping against the floor pulled the colossal squid from his hungry thoughts, and he watches in surprise as Ace stands up to leave. “Ugh, definitely overate...I think I’m just going to head home, sorry Art.” No, she can’t leave now! He can’t, he won’t let this opportunity slip through his fingers now that he’s so close! As she makes her way to the door he quickly cuts her off, leaning against it and smiling nervously. “W-wait Ace, you can’t go quite yet…" She stares up at him, his immense size over her starting to intimidate her alongside his weird behavior. "A-art, why can't I leave…?" The look in his eyes is ravenous, and as he leans down closer to her she can hear the loud and impatient growls of his stomach. "Ace...I've wanted this for the longest time now, I'm sorry…" He opens his mouth wide, his orange, slimy tongue dragging itself up the side of her face, making it clear exactly where she'll be going. Rattled, Ace digs her hands into his large, soft belly, hoping to get him away from her. “A-ARTEMIS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” He’s undeterred, making a shaky and pleased hum as she’s sweeter than he could have possibly imagined. “I’m sorry, I just can’t hold myself back any longer...you’ll be fine, I can promise you that much.” No longer listening to her protests he clamps his mouth down over her head, sealing her in humid darkness and continuing his tasting. Though now he’s mostly driven by hunger he gently strokes her back, trying to relax her so he doesn’t accidentally hurt her. She squirms and struggles as much as she can, tapping into her battle strength even, but it’s moot as Art pulls her further into his mouth and begins swallowing. Her small size relative to him makes eating her simple, with a powerful gulp already pulling her head and chest into his throat and her belly into his maw. He takes his time here, licking all over it and savoring her flavor and its fullness, before standing up and tilting his head back to let gravity do the work for him. Ace’s struggles gave out at this point, and she let peristalsis and the occasional light glurp from the colossal inkling pull her ever deeper to the loud groaning that was his stomach. When she was finally entirely sealed in his throat he sighed, sitting down in a chair and gently rubbing his stomach as she slipped inside it. She curls up without another word, and there’s a beat of silence before Artemis speaks again. “Ace...I’m truly sorry for deceiving you like this, but...I love you. I have for so long, and I wanted you as close to me as possible...you’re safe in there, I would never bring any harm to you. I just...wanted you in my embrace.” She lays still in him, processing his words. All those flirts...he meant them? She wondered if he was telling the truth, and judging by his stomach’s harmless churning and quiet, gentle burbling, he must have meant it. She had always liked him, but didn’t quite know what to say. As if he read her thoughts, he spoke again. “I understand that it’s overwhelming...when I let you out, we can talk more. I just want to hold you for a while, if that’s fine…” She subtly shifts, which is about the best answer she can give. He sighs, settling in to give her a massage. Truth be told, it wasn’t as bad as she thought in here….will he be doing this more if they got together?

She wouldn’t mind the idea of cuddling like this, if so.

[auroras-blend]

Playdate Bonus Chapter

*Small excerpt of Leo's POV from the Playdate chapter. All of Mazzeo's dialogue is spoken in Italian but given the amount and length (cause he talks a lot), I translated it into English.

Leonardo was a picture-perfect host with a genuine-looking smile on his face. Anyone who saw him would immediately feel welcomed with open arms into his home, ready and delighted to receive his hospitality. If only he felt as generous on the inside. Vittoria was bouncing beside him, a true happy grin brightening her face. It was the happiest he had ever seen her. Unfortunately for him, it came at his expense.

He had put off arranging a playdate with Signore Mazzeo’s granddaughter for as long as he could, but eventually, he had to give in and concede to a date and time. That morning, he had just stared at the top of the fridge at the little note that said: “Playdate with the Mazzeo's” that taunted him with the knowledge that while his daughter got to entertain herself with her new friend, whom he still had reservations about, he had to endure Franco’s long-winded conversations. "Conversation" was a polite word given that Franco did all of the talking, never taking a moment to breathe. Currently, he was giving his unsolicited parenting advice as if he were the finest father in the entire world. One of the things he hated about parenthood was the unsolicited advice people felt entitled to give to him.

“Of course, my parenting experience began before I was ever even a father. I always knew what type of father I wanted to be. Perfect in every sense of the word. There for my kids, never letting our work distract me. My own father…”

Was absent...unaffectionate...yes, yes. You’ve told me already. Leonardo subtly looked over at the grandfather clock, watching the minute hand move so slowly that he could swear it was doing it on purpose. Forty-five more minutes until I have three hours left…

“Then I became a father. Giulia, my firstborn, was an absolute angel. I didn’t want to mess her up so I made time for her, more than I could afford in our line of work. The baby years were such a wonderful time. A true shame you missed out on them, but that’s life. Anyways, I wanted to be a perfect father but that idea faded away. Everything you’ll think you’ll be as a parent fades away when you face the reality and I’ve learned that that’s okay. For instance…”

All I asked was “Would you like something to drink?”...that’s it. What have I done to deserve this? His eyes averted for a moment to see Vittoria and Nicolletta crank the music box again...Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name...He was incredibly resentful that Signora Bianchi bought his daughter that godforsaken music box. She played it nonstop and all he wanted to do was throw it away, but of course, Vittoria always put it back where it was supposed to go. The first and only time she put her toys away, it had to be that damn music box.

“Then Sofia was born and regretfully I wasn’t home as much. I wonder now if I had been home more if they would have turned out differently. Sofia was always the wild one. It’s a night and day difference between her sister and daughter. Giulia was always so even-tempered and Nicolletta causes no trouble. Anyways, I think Sofia was resentful. So I indulged her and that was my big mistake. Indulging your child is one of the worst things you can do. I warn you now…”

Do I indulge Vittoria too much? He knew the answer was yes, but she was always grateful. Vittoria understood and respected the word no, so he figured if he said no then she’d listen. Overall, his daughter was a good girl with a kind demeanor. I can hardly believe that bitch raised her.

“Giulia was the biggest disappointment. I haven’t heard from her in twelve years, not since she left Emilio with me. That blasted girl had the nerve to get herself knocked up with a Mick and then leave him with me. I don’t know if she’s dead or not, but I consider her so. I have to move on for the sake of my grandson…”

Leonardo had known Giulia and from day one knew she was nothing more than a whore. He had seen her twice and was merciful enough to spare Franco the knowledge of what had happened to his eldest daughter. Her body was disgusting. The smell was awful and oh...I need to have the upstairs sink unclogged. I’ll have to add that to the reminders list on the fridge. His fridge had gone from spotless stainless steel to an honorary bulletin board covered with tiny handprints, a hand-drawn picture of Vittoria and him, Principessa Snowbell, several notes, and Vittoria’s school agenda. It looked so drastically different, though he supposed that was how his life had turned out recently.

A loud thud against the seat of a chair startled him out of his thoughts and back to the conversation with Sig. Mazzeo. “Of all people, a MICK! Then there was that good-for-nothing girl. Sofia, I bailed her out too much, and look what happened. She married that good-for-nothing Cardarelli scum. I should’ve had him eliminated when I had the goddamn chance,” he said quickly, his volume rising.

Don’t you need to breathe? For Christ’s sake… “Do not let Vittoria marry whoever she wants. You’re her father, you know who’s best for her…”

Leo opened his mouth but Franco cut him off before a sound could even be formed, “Arrange something. It’s what I should’ve done. Sofia that dumb girl! If her husband had stuck to our traditions, then she wouldn’t be where she is now. I wouldn’t bail her out this time. I draw the line with what she did! Vinnie has respiratory problems now from inhaling that devil’s substance,” Franco continued, taking a moment to cross himself.

Vittoria would never do such a thing. “Which brings me to my next point…”

Murder in front of the girls’ would be unadvisable but he’s making it seem like a more appealing idea. Leonardo’s eyes drifted to the clock again. It’s only been six minutes? Cazzate! The clock must be broken. “I’ve learned from my mistakes and I’m making a better effort to raise my grandchildren. The loves of my life. I miss our work but retiring is the best option. I won’t let my wife do it on her own, no sir. Four children at our age are enough. Our job, our families...it ages you,” the man laughed, “I can see now that fatherhood has graced you with a few extra pounds.”

Excuse me? Leonardo opened his mouth but before he could say anything, that damn man spoke over him, “Nothing to be ashamed of, of course. It was after Sofia when I got my belly. Sig. Donisi lost his hair…”

It was only a couple of pounds. Leonardo had hardly seen a difference in his appearance with the exception of needing to move over a notch in his belt, but that was it! And something had to give in his routine because there were only so many hours in a day. He at least tried to exercise three times a week instead of every day like he used to.

People are over-dramatic. Inside he was seething. The meat cleaver is right next to the stove. “Which reminds me of this one time…”

Jesus Christ! The things I do for Vittoria. I can handle her crying, tantrums, the need for piggyback rides, and almost anything and everything but this? He remembered feeling semi-fortunate that her playdate with Emilio hadn’t worked out, because that meant he didn’t have to invite and entertain Sig. Mazzeo over again. Of course, she just had to make friends with Nicolletta.

“I think you are doing an exceptional job with Vittoria. That poor child, seeing the things she’s seen. You keep her sane when most would go mad,” Mazzeo said, his eyes softening sympathetically.

Before Leonardo could even say thank you, the man continued. He’d do anything to protect Vittoria from madness and madhouses. And anyone who thinks she should be there. Alessia wore scarves quite frequently for the past few weeks as her bruises around her neck faded from blue to yellow. It was her own fault. Suggesting I place Vittoria in a madhouse. Technically she suggested Vittoria see a psychiatrist but that was the same thing in his mind, knowing that they’d try and have her committed. Hell will freeze over before I let that happen. His mother had perished, he’d be damned before that happened to his daughter.

It wasn’t her, nor anyone’s place, to tell me what I should do for my daughter. I know what’s best for her. “Of course when I was a boy things were different…” Sig. Mazzeo began, his voice having a trace of nostalgia.

“Papa!” Vittoria cried, coming running in with Nicolletta hot on her heels, “Can we go outside and play jump rope now?”

Oh thank God, I can speak. Praise Jesus. “Of course, principessa,” he smiled, happy to use his voice for the first time in a while.

And for the last time in the next hour.

[thoughtsofanexcitedspacechild]

Writing Tips (Pt. 3): Writing Believable and shippable relationships in literature.

Hello friends! First of all, let me say a HUGE thank you for the support on the Kataang post! I worked really hard on it and it means so much to me all the little notes you give it and reblog it! I know it’s not at a huge number of notes, but I like knowing that people took time to read through the endless rant and reblog it! I’m planning on doing another full analysis on Zutara and why specifically it doesn’t work. I’ll make it respectful though as I know that a lot of Kataang fans are REALLY defensive and anti-zutara. I promise I’m not one of those people, and believe that no matter who you ship, your opinions on fictional characters are your opinions and you are FULLY entitled to ship and like whatever you want (as long as it’s not incest or a huge age gap. PLEASE don’t ship that stuff lol. U nasty mfs know who u are.) Speaking of ships, let’s talk about writing them. Writing ships for movies, books, shows, etc. can be surprisingly hard. Writing characters themselves can be hard enough as it is, but writing a pair of characters that fit together like a puzzle piece can feel impossible. Nevertheless, I’m here to make that process a little bit easier. When I’m trying to set up a relationship that’s going to happen, here are some things that I keep in mind to make sure that I and the audience of my writing  ship the characters I have end up together. 

DISCLAIMER before I get a’rantin: I am by NO means telling you how or what to write and am by NO means a professional writer of any sorts. I’m doing this mostly because I write a lot and speak from my own personal experiences with writing and because these are just the things that I found work best when writing my own stories. I also read and analyze a lot of others work on my own personal time, and these are just the details that I pick up on that I find makes a piece of writing effective. With that in mind, remember that writing is and art form, and the beauty of that is that there’s no one right way to do it. Ever. You can read the same thing as another person and interpret it in a completely different and unique way. 

1. Complementary Characters usually work out best. 

This is more than the classic “opposite’s attract” theory, and characters don’t necessarily have to be opposite to be complementary. Some things to think about when thinking of and writing complementary characters:

-Complementary doesn’t necessarily mean complete opposite in every single way. Often times I find it much more helpful to have characters share a common interest in hobbies, upbringing, childhood trauma (that one’s a bit overdone these days), etc. so that they’re not butting heads all the time. Just like yin and yang, theres a bit of darkness in the light and vice versa. To keep the balance harmonious, you can’t have characters be polar opposites and have no common ground. That leads to what many people consider a toxic ship, and will either lead to an unrealistic balance that inevitably leads your characters to be fighting all the time. 

-Keeping common interests in mind, often times the paces where character’s contrast is in their personalities. (Shy and bold, heart and head, bubbly and brooding, quiet and gregarious, etc.) Different personalities often are able to balance each other out and hold each other accountable for their weaknesses.

-Going off of that, one character’s strength is another’s weakness, and all traits are both. A character’s empathy can lead them to be loved by many, but may cause them to starve themselves and drain their cup so there’s none left to take care of themselves. A character’s logic may lend them top of class or calm in stressful situations, but can lead them to be insensitive to others and even their own emotions. Your characters should balance each other out and work well together, and part of this is helping each other grow from their weakness. 

-This one isn't as important, but what I also find super compelling, especially in film and tv shows is when the authors/writers deliberately choose to give the characters complementary color palettes. (I dove more into this on my Kataang analysis so go read that if you’re super interested.) If the character’s look ascetically pleasing together, it makes shipping them a whole lot easier. Focus on orange and blue, yellow and purple, red and green, and any variation of those colors together. 

2. Buildup

Often times one of the biggest critiques of ships that just don’t work out is that there’s not enough buildup or foundation to have a romantic relationship. It seems obvious, but if you’re going to have them end up together, there’s going to need to be some buildup or else the entire relationship will feel wrong and contrived no matter how pleasant you make it. 

Some tips for increasing and establishing buildup:

-Have your otp spend time together as friends first. I personally find that the healthiest and most successful ships are friends before they’re lovers. This is why Kataang specifically works so well, but Korrasami, Romionie, and Liesel and Rudy from the Book Thief are all good examples. If you observe these ships, all of these characters spend time together as friends first. Korra and Asami were able to bond and become friends over a toxic guy (cough cough MAKO) and eventually developed feelings for one another. Ron and Hermione weren’t romantically interested in other people and were friends until they started seeing other people and found out they liked each other. Liesel and Rudy were best friends before anything else and Liesel didn’t realize her feelings until it was too late. 

-Time together. When your otp spends time together, make sure that whatever time is being spent together is time that they both enjoy. No, the activity itself doesn’t have to be enjoyable to both characters, but the time spent together should be. If the characters really aren’t enjoying the time spent together, then it’s never gonna work out. I’ll use the ship that I’m writing as an example. Currently, I’m in the process of writing a third atlas series and we’ll use my characters Liang and Hana. (Yea I used my own name for one of my characters. I think it suits her bc she’s basically my clone, just, she’s the avatar. I’m going to change both of their names once I do more research and can find culturally and historically accurate names.) Liang REALLY loves pro-bending matches. Hana, not so much. She still goes with him to see matches and attends his matches when she can. On the flip side, Hana really loves going to her favorite tea shop. Liang vastly prefers a strong cup of coffee, but he goes with her anyways. Why would they choose to do something that they don’t necessarily like? Because that’s more quality time spent with each other and doing something for the other person. 

3. Romantic Gestures

Going off of my last point, we have the art of romantic gestures. These can range to things anywhere from a hug, to an elaborate firework display, to a locket with both of their pictures in it. Make sure that the romantic gestures are there! It’s gotta be clear that both characters are thinking about one another and consciously choose to do something for the other person. Here are some fun ways to do it:

-Remembering a gift the other character wanted. This one’s cliche but it works, because often times the best way to show affection is through physical gifts and objects. Think coffee from a favorite shop, handwritten notes, that piece of clothing the other has been eyeing, etc. 

-~symbolism~ *add chime here* By that I mean have an object to symbolize their relationship with, like Korrasami’s iconic hair pin or Liesel’s book that Rudy retrieved for her. This way, the readers not only have a visual representation of their favorite ships, but the object can physically link characters together and make a vague relationship full cannon. (I know for sure that someday when I get a tattoo, I want the hairpin tattooed on my wrist, ankle or side of my body.) 

-PDAs. Works best in film and visual stuff, but still applies for everything. I’m talking cuddles, kisses, falling asleep in each other’s arms, the whole shebang. I mean how much clearer can you make it than a pda?

-Love languages. Each person loves in their own unique way. Have characters figure out and learn each other’s love language. It really shows and adds a whole other layer to the cake. This one can make a ship that feels a little bland have more depth and realism, because in the real world, healthy relationships are formed and aided by learning and applying each other’s love language. 

4. Dialogue. This one can be hard to master, but once you do, it’s a breeze. First off, I recommend getting all your ideas out, and editing. DON’T EDIT AS YOU GO! This is often tedious and super annoying, so get everything out first, and go from there once you have a decent amount to work with. Dialogue is tricky, because dialogue in and of itself is meant to communicate and express feelings. Here are some tips and steps to at least get a start: 

a. Know EXACTLY how your characters feel about one another, and make that evident through communication. It seems obvious (again) but this really helps and I find that putting myself in the character’s shoes for a second and really thinking about it helps to decide exactly what they would say in a given situation, especially if the scene you’re writing involves confrontation about feelings for one another. 

b. Dialogue is more than just talking. Body language, tone, facial expressions, etc. are all part of dialogue too and are SUPER important! In the real world, humans communicate through more than just words, and sometimes a playful grin, grimace, crossed arms, or pout is much more effective than a character outright saying something. 

c. Once you’ve written the dialogue out, be concise and smart about your dialogue and pare it down as much as you can. Often times, adding too much dialogue can make a scene boring and flat. Use your words sparingly! The purpose of writing is to covey a story or message and often times this can be done effectively with less words rather than more. The main point in dialogue itself is to provide necessary context and information. Otherwise, don’t use it.

d. Make sure the conversation is two sided. This (say it with me now) SEEMS OBVIOUS, but make sure that both people are talking/communicating. it’s a conversation, not a speech. (Unless it is a speech or declaration of some sort.)

Before I go: A QUICK (Long) PSA ON TOXIC SHIPS: 

The concept of a toxic ship is very common in a lot of literature. Often times writers choose to include elements that may be toxic to heighten romantic tension in a story. While I do recognize that this sometimes may be a stylistic choice, there are MUCH better and effective ways to create tension that having something be toxic. Toxic relationships in my opinion share one purpose, and that is to establish a relationship’s toxicity and ineffectiveness. I don’t recommend writing these into a story unless it’s an obstacle for your characters to overcome, and having a character forgive the toxic actions of another character and still end up with them isn’t the right move because it completely disregards and diminishes the effects of what happened previously.

One of the best examples I can think of is Reylo from the new sw trilogy. I did touch on this briefly in a couple of my earlier posts (The Effect Of Modern Day SW characters and My Tips for Writing (In General) which I highly suggest you go read bc they both took me a bit of time and state the purpose more in depth) but I think I’ll quick reiterate and say that it wasn’t a good choice on the writer’s part to have some of the dialogue be so intense and vicious and then have them end up together. I still like the idea of Ben Solo and Rey together and ship them together out of cannon, but in cannon, it’s the perfect example of an ineffective ship. There was little to no build up, the dialogue was often spiteful and sharp, and it escalated a bit too quickly. I would’ve liked to see more of Ben Solo (NOT Kylo) and him feeling sorry for and repenting for the bad that he’s done before he and Rey end up together. Yes, we’re all suckers for the enemies to lovers trope, but PLEASE make sure to filter out the toxins before boarding your ships and watching them sail. 

That’s it for now! I hope this helps a little when writing shippable characters! I’m always free to rant to and to critique. I’m going to start posting as much as I can, because these guides help me too! Check out my other ones if you’d like to know tips for writing in general and I made another one on how to write characters. 

[babyboy-bangtan]

The Moments In Between Chapter 2

As you become close friends with BTS, you begin to realize that the feelings you have for them are slowly turning into something you’re not ready to deal with. Unbeknownst to you, the same is happening to them.

✦ Pairing: Sub!BTS/Female Reader ✦ Word Count: 2K ✦ Rating: M ✦ Warnings: None. ✦ A/N: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of my imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Dialogue spoken in Korean is bolded and italicized. Read on AO3 / Chapter 1

A Little Bit Closer

When Jungkook offered you to exchange numbers, you had no idea what was going to come next. You sincerely wanted to keep in touch with them because they really struck you as incredibly sweet people that would make amazing friends, so before you left them and maybe blew your chance to contact them again, you threw caution to the wind and told them what you wanted. Jungkook's reaction took you by surprise; his eagerness was both shocking and incredibly endearing. But what you truly hadn't expected was Jimin to text you before Jungkook could, and because he stole your number from him as well. He tried to deny it, but Jungkook confirmed it immediately once you asked him. He hadn't even realized Jimin had your number until you mentioned it.

God, Jimin— that little minx. That's truly the best word you can find to describe him. He's constantly walking the line between trying to push your buttons and then turning into the cutest person ever so you won't say anything to him, and you can't deny you are having a lot of fun texting with him. He keeps sending you selfies of his outfits and asking you if you think he looks pretty, to which you obviously can't reply anything other than yes, of course. He's beautiful no matter what he wears— they all are. Jimin feels like the spice to counteract Jungkook’s pure sweetness, and god knows that if it wasn't for the fact that you're just friends— and you barely know each other— you would have already bent him over your knee and taught him a lesson.

But, of course, you can't do that. So you have to settle for figuring out which buttons of his you can push yourself, which actually isn't really hard to do. He might have figured out himself that you basically melt every time he or Jungkook send you cute pictures or act cute when they video call you— no one can blame you for that, they are precious— but you also figured out that he tends to be all bark and no bite. He likes to flirt, but if you say something back he gets flustered immediately. Not to mention that if you compliment him when he's not expecting it he gets 10 times more embarrassed than normal.

You phone vibrates on your kitchen table while you pour yourself a cup of coffee, and when you see that it's Jimin and he sent you a selfie, you can't help but smile to yourself.

Speak of the devil.

       Hi noona, do you like it?

That word, noona, keeps making your stomach do a somersault every time you read it. Jungkook asked you early on if it was okay to call you 누나 and explained what it meant— even going so far as kindly writing it using the English alphabet so you wouldn't be confused. You said yes to him, but Jimin just started using it shortly after, without any warning or saying anything about it. You assumed he saw Jungkook using it and started using it himself, but you can't truly be sure. It's not like it matters, anyway, because you sure as hell don't mind to be called that. The idea of an honorific they use for older women is something that, for some reason, is really appealing to you. You don't want to sexualize a word that you know has no sexual connotations in their culture, but you can't help but be reminded of another word you've been called in the past— one you absolutely loved to be called.

But there's no point thinking about that know. You've been single for a while and you suspect you'll stay that way for the foreseeable future. You know how hard it is to find someone who's into the same things as you, and added to that it's almost impossible for you to trust someone and believe they're not using you or trying to gather information about you they can sell to whatever news outlet is willing to pay the highest price. You could try and date another actor, but your last relationship left quite a mark on you and you're not sure if you can believe that if you date an actor again he won't end up wanting the same thing your ex did— something you simply won't be able to give him.

So, for now all you can do is focus on yourself and your work, and hope that maybe one day you'll find a person whose desires and needs are compatible with your own.

Right now, though, you need to reply to Jimin.

He sent you a mirror selfie of himself in a simple dark suit with a white shirt— and as usual he looks like a damn work of art. Instead of replying, you find a mirror selfie you took of yourself yesterday, when you went to try the suit you're wearing for the premiere of your movie tomorrow.

       Hi Jimin, what do you think about mine?

It's a tight fitting one that you're wearing with high heels, and you have a shirt with the top button undone underneath it.

When he doesn't immediately reply, you laugh to yourself and start drinking your coffee, knowing very well that you are definitely going to be the winner this time.

"What about this one?"  Jimin asks Taehyung, who is sitting next to him on the floor with his chin on Jimin's shoulder to look at his phone better.

"The other one looks better."  He replies, using his own finger to go to the picture Jimin showed him before.

"Yeah, I think so too."  Jimin agrees, opening his conversation with you and sending it to you, along with a simple message.

       Hi noona, do you like it?

He knows he looks good— he's wearing his suit for the Billboard Awards— so now it's just a matter of waiting and seeing how you respond. He feels butterflies on his stomach at the thought of what your reply might be— but he doesn't have much time to think about it because you text him back quite fast.

Taehyung is right behind him still, waiting for your response expectantly as well.

"Wow." He says when Jimin opens your reply. "[Y/N]-Noona is so pretty."

Jesus Christ.

Instead of answering his question like he thought you would, you sent him a picture of yourself wearing a suit as well, and Jimin feels like he was just punched on the stomach.

Whenever he thinks about what his ideal woman is supposed to look like, the first image that comes into his mind is scarily similar to the one you just sent him.

"What are you going to reply?"  Taehyung asks, itching to know how the conversation will go. He knows Jimin, and he can already tell he got really flustered just now.

"I need water."  Jimin replies instead, leaving his phone on the floor and getting up so he can walk to the other side of the room to get a bottle.

Taehyung looks at the phone Jimin left on the ground, which is conveniently unlocked with your conversation still open.

He shouldn't do it— but he can't help himself.

He takes a picture of himself making a V with his fingers and smiling in the cutest way he manages— and then sends it to you.

       Hi noona. I'm Tae

Your response is fast.

      Hi Tae! 💙 Where did Jimin go?       He's drinking water       You are very pretty!       😂 thank you Tae, you are very pretty as well!       Thank you nooskhdsb

"What are you doing?"  Jimin suddenly asks, taking his phone back. "What did you say?"

"Nothing bad, she knows it was me."  Taehyung says, shrugging his shoulders.

      ??       Tae?       It's Jimin, sorry for that       Boo, I wanted to talk to him some more       And me? :(       You're okay too, I guess       Noona! 😭       I'm joking! 😂 You're so cute

Jimin gets really shy at that, and he struggles with knowing how to reply.

"You're not saying anything back?"  Taehyung asks, staring at Jimin whose face is bright pink.

"I don't know what to say."  He whines, dropping the phone on his lap and covering his cheeks with his hands to cool them.

"I'll reply."  Taehyung snatches the phone from him and takes another selfie, but this time he's smiling to the camera with one hand on his cheek and his eyes closed. He knows from Jimin that you like cute pictures, so he's doing his best to look as cute as he can.

       Hi noona, I'm back        Tae! I missed you!

"What did she say?" Jimin asks, moving to Taehyung's side to read what you texted him. "What? She never says that to me! Give me that."

       Noona, you never say you miss me :(        Jimin?       I'm getting whiplash from this conversation

"Namjoon-Hyung!"  Jimin yells to him, who is sitting down on the other end of the room, still eating after their dance practice.

"What?"  He yells back, not bothering to look up from his phone.

"Can you tell me what this means?"  He holds up his phone, and Namjoon looks up for a moment.

"Well, bring it here, I'm not going over there."  He says, taking another bite of his food.

Both he and Taehyung get up and walk up to him, and Namjoon leaves his own phone so he can see what Jimin is making a fuss about. Once he reads the messages, he can't help but snort.

"Ah, Hyung— don't laugh. Just tell me what she meant."

"I'm getting whiplash from this conversation? That?"  Jimin and Taehyung nod. "It means that it's kind of overwhelming that you're switching who texts her so often."  He gives back the phone and goes back to his own. "You should just text her from your phone instead."  He tells Taehyung with a shrug.

"Oh, I should."  He agrees, grabbing Jimin's phone and much like he did to Jungkook, he saves your number for himself.

He then gives it back to Jimin, who wastes no time in sending you a selfie of him pouting and looking very, very sad.

      Say you miss me too noona 😭       You're right here 😂       :(

Taehyung is busy filming a video of himself saying annyeong over and over again while doing different cute poses with Jungkook— who apparently joined him while Jimin was distracted— hugging him from behind, and he can't help but wonder about the way you talk to them both and the way to talk to him.

He has read some of your conversations with Jungkook so he knows you're constantly praising him and are incredibly sweet to him, and it seems like that is going to be the case with Taehyung as well. But when it comes to him you're different, which is not to say that you're not also sweet to him— you praise him and compliment him a lot as well— but you add a little bit more teasing to the sweetness. Well, quite a bit more. He can't deny he enjoys provoking you, but he really wishes he knew what's on your mind when you see what he sends you, and if maybe your thoughts when you read his messages are similar to his own.

Stop.

It's pointless to think about that.

       To answer to your first question: that suit looks amazing on you.

"Ah, damn it."  He mumbles to himself, feeling his heart hammering on his chest. It's dangerous that you can cause this kind of reactions on him.

       Thank you noona 💕 You too

He can't write much more because he doesn't know what else to say— he might make a fool of himself if he tries too hard to come up with a better reply.

If you can do this to him through text only, Jimin isn't sure about what you'll be able to create in him when they finally see you again. But both sadly and luckily, it seems like that won't be happening any time soon.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed and stay safe!

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #1- Meeting All Our New Friends

Okay, let’s see what happens when you give one man way too much power over a franchise, and he doesn’t use it for evil.

Before we get into the story, let’s take a look at the cover art! MTMTE, as well as its sister series, Robots in Disguise, started off IDW Phase Two, a brand new run of main comics to replace the by-then completed The Transformers (2009). To celebrate this momentous occasion, each comic’s first issue got FOUR separate covers, which could be combined to create a large, overarching image. MTMTE’s looked like this when all the covers were put together.

The cover art here is by Alex Milne, who is on as the main artist for the series, but he’s not on issue #1- no, for our foray into this comic run, we see the return of Nick Roche.

The last time Roche and Roberts worked together was on Last Stand of the Wreckers, and other than MTMTE #6 and the Revolution one-shot, they won’t be teaming up again within the IDW run.

On a potentially-related-but-more-of-just-a-humorous note, it seems that Roberts is a huge stickler with his scripts, going into what sounds like an honestly horrific amount of detail for each individual panel. The average comic script is either between 20-23 or 28-30 pages long, not counting title and credit pages. Roberts has been cited as sending in comic scripts that approached 50 pages.

Which, if you know anything about the scriptwriting process, is a little… yeah. It’s a very good thing Roberts seems to be able to take criticism.

ANYWAY.

IT’S TIME.

The Transformers: More Than Meets the Eye- Liars, A to D Part 1: How to Say Goodbye and Mean It- holy fucking shit that’s a long title- starts off with the Story So Far, a comic book classic to catch readers up on what’s happened prior to the issue. The very nature of a Story So Far will become plot-relevant much later down the line, but as is, it’s just reminding us what happened during Phase One, in as basic a point as it can.

And then the credits are right underneath.

I can’t even imagine how friggin’ good seeing this printed must have felt.

So, what’s going on in the premiere of the sad, gay, space comic?

Not my phrasing, by the way, but the Wiki’s.

So, the war’s over. What does that mean? Well, a lot of things, honestly, but the first thing we’re given in terms of what changes to expect with everyone’s favorite space robots is in relation to their wardrobes. Yeah, without a war to fight, what’s the point in having relatively identical blocky armor that protects all your insides? It’s time to get skimpy.

Rodimus has switched out his toned calves and discernible ankles for the Uggs that are now positively iconic to his character. Drift’s mass has almost completely gravitated to his thighs, making him the curviest thing this side of the Milky Way. Ultra Magnus didn’t get the memo about not needing to be in uniform anymore, I guess, but somehow I doubt he owns anything casual.

Rodimus, Drift, and Magnus are holding a rally to invite Autobots to come on their party-barge to find the Knights of Cybertron, in an effort to heal the planet, because Rodimus took one look at post-war Cybertron and said “no thanks.” Honestly, I think most would, if these properly colored characters are any indication.  

Just the Autobots, by the way. We aren’t ready to be friends with the ‘Cons just yet. Swindle did some major damage on that front.

Prowl and Wheeljack are off to the side discussing this turn of events, and while Wheeljack seems to think that a lot of folks will be boarding the ship and getting the hell out of dodge, Prowl’s expecting nothing to come of it.

So, that was yesterday. What’s going on today?

Inside Kimia, there’s a dead guy. He wasn’t dead when he was brought in, but he is now. Who is he, anyway?

Oh, he’s one of the NAIL protesters, and he died because he was protesting by way of transforming on the steps of Autobot HQ, until his transformation cog burn out. Yep, that can kill you. Ratchet’s the one who performed the autopsy, as per Metalhawk’s request- he only wanted the best of the best on this.

Too bad the best of the best is starting to slump. After a brief scare with Rigor Morphis- the stiffening of the corpse into the body’s preferred mode- Ratchet explains to Bumblebee that his hands have started seizing up, and that’s why he’ll be leaving on the Lost Light with Rodimus. He just can’t do the work anymore.

This news is not well received by Bumblebee, who’s just about had it with everyone up and leaving him all by himself with the mess that is Cybertron.

Phase Two will not be kind to Bumblebee.

Bumblebee accuses Ratchet of having been insnared in Rodimus’ siren song of reclaiming the Golden Age, but c’mon, this is Ratchet! He’s too cynical to fall for that. He’s more interested in finding the Autobots who’ve been lost over the millennia to the war. Ratchet’s already well aware of the true purposes of this little galactic road trip, almost like he’s read the plot outline.

It’s about helping people, and adventure, and being unapologetically gay and sad in equal measures.

Up in the sky, Cyclonus is displeased. He spent six million years in the Dead Universe, under the control of a madman, waiting for the moment he could return to his beloved homeworld, and what does he get? A ball of half-baked primordial cookie-dough, and it’s not even chocolate-chip like he was expecting; it’s fucking oatmeal raisin.

Mmm, that is some tasty panel-breaking right there.

Of course, the I/D chip might not have worked anyway, seeing as Cyclonus got a little bit of a boost when Vector Sigma ejected everyone during the Matrix incident. It’s doing some weird stuff to his body, on top of whatever nonsense existing inside the Dead Universe does to a person.

Cyclonus is about to head over to the Lost Light- apparently he and Rodimus made a little deal off-panel- when he detects a familiar life sign and decides to see what that’s all about.

Over in Prowl’s office, things are tense. He and Chromedome can’t even look at each other, as Chromedome reveals that both he and Rewind are jumping on the Lost Light. Prowl doesn’t like this, not one bit. He needs Chromedome, needs his skills, his expertise. He tries to appeal to Rewind, knowing who wears the pants in this relationship.

Or, well, he tries.

Prowl, they’ve been married for over 250,000 years.

In all seriousness, this is slightly before the first tentative steps Roberts took towards making the franchise as gay as he possibly could, at least when going by the story’s chronology. The thing about professional comic script writing is that plotting/planning goes for a ways beyond the current script one’s working on, so that everyone knows where everyone else is. Considering the somewhat congruent nature between MTMTE and RiD, planning ahead was especially important.

Chromedome and Rewind were originally (like, first draft originally) meant to be best friends. This was to fill a void in the department of close relationships Roberts felt within the Transformers franchise. Then Roberts saw how handsy he’d been writing them during plotting and realized he’d made something a little different happen. Which still sort of went with what he was going for, just in a slightly different fashion. Chromedome and Rewind are a rare case of a writer NOT leaning into the “they’re just bros, bro” mentality and just letting the characters be together as romantic partners.

Also keep in mind that it would be another three fucking years before the United States would legalize same-sex marriage, which is where the IDW offices are located. You gotta ease that sort of change in, that way nobody realizes what you’re doing until it’s already been done, then you can go hog-wild. We won’t be hitting critical mass on the homonormative civilization that is IDW1 Cybertron for a solid year or so.

So this bit of dialogue is just the start of the setup, and the “best friend” line is either a leftover from earlier versions of the script, or Prowl really just is that big of an asshole.

Rewind is, of course, recording everything taking place on his handy-dandy little head-mounted camera, because history is his business, and he’s not going to stop recording for the likes of Prowl.

Rewind doesn’t like Prowl very much.

It would seem that the feeling is mutual.

Chromedome suddenly remembers that trying to reason with Prowl is like talking to a brick wall, and the two of them leave. Prowl responds to this slight by yelling in the hallway and then flipping a table.

I sure hope y’all like running gags.

Of course, Prowl wouldn’t be Prowl without having a few contingency plans in place for when things don’t go his way, and he makes a call to his inside guys to “load the cargo.”

That’s not ominous in the slightest.

Six million years prior to all this nonsense, a tiny little dude fell in a hole and broke his legs trying to get to work.

This is Tailgate, and he’s seen better days. Not many, mind you, but at least a couple. He was making his way to the launch of the original Ark, when he decided to take a shortcut that would change the course of his life forever. Hence the whole “stuck in a hole” thing. Still, he’s got to get out of here, because without him, the entire expedition is doomed!

For being an idiot, Tailgate’s pretty smart- he figures that if he sets off his energon rations, it’ll blast up through the roof of the cavern he’s in and someone will be able to find him. Good thing energon’s so incredibly volatile.

Speaking of volatile, let’s jump back to the present and check on our buddy Whirl.

It looks like Whirl also got a makeover between series, because he’s now sporting a much sleeker, angular frame, complete with long, tapered head.

Whirl’s currently busy thanking his new friends for spending so much time with him. It really meant a lot to him, their patience. Not many folks have been patient with him before.

Of course, it probably helps that all these guys are dead as hell.

It’s time for another Roberts’ staple- the suicide attempt. We won’t be using the robot-equivalent to Multiple Sclerosis though. This go around, we’ll be using a classic: self immolation!

Title drop! Bet you weren’t expecting it to have such a dark connotation, huh?

Cyclonus interrupts Whirl’s monologue and suicide attempt. He thought he’d seen his best buddy, Scourge, on his tracker, and his immediate response is to lurk in the shadows looking like a night demon wearing a party hat.

Fun fact: a group of Sweeps is called a Spring Cleaning.

Scourge isn’t here, and he won’t ever be. Scourge most likely died off-panel, never to be seen again, assumedly because nobody wanted to write for him. I think it’s the nails, puts people off.

Whirl doesn’t take kindly to the intrusion, and responds the only way he knows how.

It’s always embarrassing when your self-immolation gets interrupted, but maybe try taking a first deep breaths before committing to more war crimes, Whirlybird.

While these two morons fill the post-Bay movie explosion quota, Red Alert’s hard at work screening the passengers on the Lost Light. Currently, he’s checking Brainstorm, who’s making it as difficult as possible, both legally and emotionally. Red Alert waves him on with a grumble, without even getting a peek at what’s inside his mysterious briefcase.

Up next is Swerve.

His legs are so jacked, it makes me a little uncomfortable. Glad to see Swerve’s body reformat went swimmingly- seems he went for the classic “tires in the shoulders and ankles” model.

Oh hey, it’s Rung! Hi Rung!

This series will not be kind to Rung.

While Cyclonus and Whirl terrorize the folks just trying to get on board the dang ship, Rodimus is feeling rather pleased with himself with the turnout. Drift strokes his ego a bit, because they support each other, but things are still weird because Drift doesn’t know who he is as a person anymore, and Rodimus has a guilty conscience mixed with being the Matrix’s golden child, which really fucks with a guy’s head.

Ultra Magnus goes through the list of the folks joining their quest, and starts running through all their demerits and crimes like it’s his job, because it is. We get a little peek into Magnus’ world view and then it’s back to the Whirl and Cyclonus show.

Also, Drift doens’t have a nose right now. He’ll get it back in time for the next issue, don’t worry.

Over with the flyboys, Cyclonus has decided to land and attempt to reason with Whirl. Not that he couldn’t totally kill Whirl if he wanted to.

He just doesn’t want to.

No, Cyclonus is far more concerned with his meeting with Rodimus, the one that he’s already friggin’ late for thanks to the detour he took checking that life signature. Whirl doesn’t care, far more worried about the fact that Cyclonus saw him talking to desecrated corpses and, far more importantly, vulnerable.

Look at this jackass’ ensemble- demon helmet, a crop top, a skirt and bellbottom pants. What an icon. He and Eugenesis Wheeljack should trade fashion tips.

Whirl still isn’t done with him, even after scraping him across the side of a mountain. Feeling especially artsy, he scoops Cyclonus up and jumps into the air, since he apparently has a hundred-foot vertical leap.

Back in the past, things aren’t going so well for Tailgate.

More cool panel stuff going on here- every time the panels have had rounded corners, it’s been when the scene takes place in the past. Now that the last panel has proper right angles to it, Tailgate’s in the present with everyone else. That middle panel probably covers a couple million years, at least. Poor guy.

Up on the surface, Ratchet’s met up with Chromedome and Rewind, and they’re all walking over to the launch site, Chromedome bitching all the while about how they’ve got to use their legs since Rewind’s alt-mode isn’t a vehicle, but a USB.

Chromedome seems to have forgotten that his tiny husband is small enough to probably just ride on top of his alt-mode, if not directly inside, most likely due to his larger-than-life personality.

Whirl and Cyclonus fall out of the sky before Chromedome can say something that’ll get his ass divorced. Cyclonus gets knocked out cold, having taken the brunt of the impact. Unfortunate, seeing as Whirl’s taking the time to make up lies about him.

You thought I was kidding when I said the armor was skimpy, but here we are, with a shot of Whirl’s battle thong.

Ratchet, who knows Whirl, because he knows everybody, tries to talk him out of straight up murdering Cyclonus. Whirl doesn’t like it when people try to talk him down, and is about to turn on the good doctor, when Tailgate enters the scene, by way of explosion.

Whirl doesn’t handle explosions terribly well. Probably why he was going to use one to kill himself.

With Whirl knocked out, Ratchet and the power couple pull Tailgate out of his hole, where he manages to ask about the launch before freaking the fuck out and fainting at the sight of a rather dead-looking Whirl. To be fair, I can’t think of a whole lot of folks who’d survive getting their tits blown off with enough force to clear a tunnel in solid rock.

You said it, Rewind.

Ratchet grabs Tailgate and Whirl and brings them onboard the ship, seeing as Tailgate seems to want to be there, and Whirl’s too dangerous to be out of sight. They just kinda leave Cyclonus on the ground. I doubt the two guys who were on Kimia last month really want to deal with him.

Rewind breaks off from the group to see his dealer. This dealer isn’t selling the good kush though. He’s got something far more incriminating to offer.

But we don’t get to find out what the fuck Rewind just bought from Swindle for a few more issues. Rest assured, it’s nothing good.

On the bridge, Rodimus is in his captain’s chair, ready to captain it up. The Lost Light raises into the air, as Bumblebee and Prowl watch on, about to exit the atmosphere and begin a adventure filled with hijinks and mild peril.

And that’s a series wrap on everyone! I hope you enjoyed this wonderful one-shot written by James Roberts.

What do you mean there’s 56 more issues?

Alright, let’s see where this goes.

Back on the bridge, there’s alarms and sirens out the wazoo, as things have pretty much immediately gone to shit. The quantum engine the Lost Light’s outfitted with apparently went off prematurely, rocketing them into a completely random quadrant of space.

Also, there’s a hole in the ship, and vacuum physics are doing their thing.

This series will not be kind to Rodimus.

The Lost Light touches down on the planet they popped back into existence over to start looking for all the guys who got sucked out of the ship. They don’t have to look long, seeing as they’re all burning up in the atmosphere.

Welcome to the Lost Light. It’s a friggin’ mess.

Back on Cybertron, the aftermath of the explosion is seen, as Bumblebee and Prowl listen to a message that seems to imply a lot more heartache in the future.

Prowl, you could at least pretend to give a shit.

That’s the end of the story, but not the end of the issue. In the back of the book, we get a welcome letter from James Roberts himself, thanking the reader for taking the time to read the beginning of MTMTE, and holy shit does he really try to sell it to you. This is a guy who wants you to be excited about the story that’s coming your way, because he’s excited about it. He’s a big dork who loves Transformers, and he gets to write about them for the next six years! That’s awesome. 

[certifiedmoth]

Please Say Yes

Single Dad!Duncan x Fem!Reader

Summary: Duncan wants to propose to Y/N, but his son ruins the surprise.

Notes: Okay, I wrote this really fast and it probably isn’t the best thing ever, but my heart was literally going AWWW the whole time I wrote this, so enjoy!! (single dad!duncan owns me, y’all) gif credit to @spellman

Warnings: None, just fluff

Word Count: 3.2K

___

“Do you understand, bub?”

The four-year-old sitting on Duncan’s lap scrunched up his face playfully while nodding his head enthusiastically.

“We can’t tell mama!”

“Mhm, yes. And why can’t we tell mama?” Duncan bobbed his leg up and down, sending his son into a fit of giggles.

“Because marrying mama is a secret, shhh,” he held his tiny finger up to his mouth and spoke in a whisper, making sure to be as quiet as his little voice would let him.

“Well, asking her to marry daddy is a secret. Mama can’t know at all, it’s a surprise, okay?” He looked his son right in his eyes, hoping he was listening carefully to what he was telling him. “Mama’s going to be really, really happy, as long as it’s a surprise and we don’t tell her before the right time, okay?”

“When’s the right time? Right now?” His son’s big, blue eyes went wide with curiosity.

Duncan let out a soft chuckle, “Well, not right now, bub. Daddy will know the right time; you don’t need to worry about that.” He kissed the top of his son’s hair, holding him close to his chest and savoring this blissful moment. “Just don’t tell mommy.”

~

You and Duncan had been together for three happy years now; something of a record for Mr. Shepherd. He had known from the very first moment he laid his eyes on you that you were meant to be in his life. Stolen glances at work led to steamy makeout sessions in his office which, then, (miraculously, he thought) led to a first date. Duncan had always known how special you were, but it was then, on that first date, as he stared at you smiling from across the table, illuminated by the soft moonlight and laughing at your own joke, that he truly realized that he selfishly wanted you all to himself and that he’d do everything in his power to make that a reality.

A year prior to meeting Y/N, Duncan had experienced one of the worst pains of his life when the mother of his son took off and left. They hadn’t been together long and the pregnancy was a complete surprise, but he had sworn right then and there, as he looked down at the positive pregnancy test, that he would be the best father to his child and the most supportive and loving partner to his girlfriend the world had ever seen. But she had other plans for her life, it seemed; she left shortly after the birth, leaving behind a heartbroken Duncan to solely take care of their child.

Even with the amazing gift that his son was, he truly believed that he would always be alone; destined to share this life with nobody but himself. But then you came along, and flipped a light switch on, suddenly changing his whole outlook on everything and bringing an immense amount of love and light into him and his son’s life that he had never imagined possible. You brightened everything for him.

From a cocky bachelor to a single dad, cherishing domesticity with his son and the love of his life, Duncan often reminisced on how he had gotten here in life. He couldn’t help but wonder what he had done to deserve a life as amazing and meaningful as this one; it was something he would always cherish. He had his family – His family. His to hold and love. His to keep him warm at night and comfort him when troubled thoughts filled his head. You and his son were all he needed in his life. And all that was left to do was ask you to be his forever.

~

- Two weeks later -

The bubbly boy sitting next to you focused intently on the drawing before him, while he excitedly rambled on and on about the dog he had seen that morning.

“He tried to lick my nose,” he scrunched up his small nose as his addictive giggles filled the air; turning to you, he mimicked the dog with his tongue sticking out and continued laughing without a care in the world. Always such an expressive one, you thought, as you felt the corners of your own mouth lifting while you stared at the lively boy beside you.

“Why don’t you draw the doggie in your picture?” You smiled back at him, moving some of the loose strands of hair out of his face. He had his father’s hair and it soothed you to see so much of Duncan in him.

“No!” he yelled defiantly while a great, big smile appeared on his face as he got up and started dancing (or at least, what a toddler’s definition of dancing was). Okay… you knew what was going on here. He was clearly in one of his “silly moods”; something Duncan liked to call his random outbursts of excitement and giggling. He twirled around the room, singing and laughing as if he were the happiest person alive, before running back to you and plopping down on the ground next to you and his coloring station.

“Somebody’s being silly,” you scrunched up your nose at him, watching him as he dramatically laughed and got back to coloring his picture. “But bub, I have a question,” you frowned, exaggerating your sad tone. “Why no doggie?” you fake cried, hoping to bring even more laughter out of him.

“Because we don’t have one, you silly!!” He yelled, finding the whole situation quite hilarious. “This is our family,” he pointed to the picture. “And we don’t have a doggie, so he can’t go in here.”

“Oh, okay. I understand,” you nodded, enjoying the seriousness and accuracy he put into his art. Peeking over his head to see the masterpiece itself, you found a tall figure that must have been Duncan since a (very large) cellphone was placed in his hand. You silently made a note to tell Duncan about it later; you were sure he would think it was adorable funny. Then, there was your little one right in the middle with a big, gigantic smile plastered on his face; that part seemed quite accurate. Your eyes continued scanning the page, landing on the figure that must have been you, but you were wearing a long, white dress with something covering your face; a very odd sight that caused you to tilt your head in confusion, trying to understand what you were looking at. It was honestly very sweet and endearing, but also suspicious, to say the least.

“Hey bub, why am I wearing that?” you pointed to the cartoon version of yourself.

“Because that’s what people wear when they get married,” he replied softly and casually while focusing on coloring in the grass expertly.

Your heart stopped for a split second as you heard him speak those words so nonchalantly. Had Duncan said something to him? Or perhaps, maybe his preschool teacher had taught them about what a wedding was and he simply was a curious and intrigued child? It must be the latter, you thought. He must have seen a wedding in one of his cartoons, or saw it in a book.

You tried to rid your brain of dangerous, exciting thoughts and calm yourself of the possibility of something bigger taking place right now, but failed horribly after several minutes of a very anxious internal dialogue with yourself.

“Bub, why am I wearing it, though?”  you spoke up suddenly, the confusing thoughts in your head still running rampant as your heartbeat raced.

“Because daddy said he’s gonna marry you, so you have to wear white!! Daddy read this book to me and the girl in it got married and she wore white, so you have to wear white, silly.”

Your eyes went wide and it was as if the air had been knocked right out of your lungs; you were sure you would have looked paralyzed if anyone had walked in at that exact moment. You had thought of the possibility of Duncan proposing one day; you both had talked about it casually before, but you didn’t know that he was actually planning to ask you to be his wife.

You were shocked, confused, beyond ecstatic… You felt so many different things, all completely at the same time, and you didn’t exactly know how to process everything you were feeling; this was foreign territory. Your head swirled and buzzed while the little boy next to you sat unbothered by the bombshell he had just dropped, mindlessly coloring the sky a light blue color on the paper in font of him.

“When did daddy say all of this?”

His little head turned to you, about to answer your question with an excited smile on his face, when he suddenly remembered the day his dad had sat him on his lap and told him his great, big secret plan. But he had told him not to tell you. That’s what he had said: To not tell mama. That only daddy could tell her and only when it was the right time. This was not the right time. And daddy wasn’t even here. Slowly, his smile turned to a frown and glossy tears began to prick the corners of his bright blue eyes.

“Oh no, baby, what’s going on?” Your voice was laced with concern as you watched his face contort with sadness. In this moment, you forgot about the picture. You forgot about what he was about to say. You forgot about any future proposal. You only cared about why your sweet boy had become so incredibly distraught. His cheeks grew warm and he suddenly started wailing as tears began to flow freely down his face, his poor lungs struggling to draw in air from crying so hard.

The door to the home office slammed open and Duncan came running out, his eyes wide with worry and concern as he noticed you in the middle of the floor, cradling his little boy. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, he just started crying,” your looked up at Duncan hopelessly while you held your little one to your chest, rocking him back and forth and trying your best to comfort him and ease him of whatever pain he was feeling. It was just as painful for you as it was for Duncan to see him so uncontrollably distraught. You’d do anything to make him feel better, no matter the cost. And Duncan was right there with you; he’d do anything to protect his son from this world. Which is why it was so hard to see him like this right now. A very worried Duncan kneeled next to you and started gently stroking his son’s back in a calm and soothing manner.

“Bub, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Duncan whispered in his ear, hoping to god something wasn’t causing him physical pain.

Your little one hesitantly lifted his head from your chest and looked up at his dad with tears running down his red face, trying to speak but all that came out were more choked sobs. “I- I ruined the surprise,” you almost didn’t catch his timid voice amidst the strangled sobs. Duncan’s face twisted in confusion, not sure what his poor child was talking about.

“Bub, what surprise?” Duncan asked softly while continuing to rub his son’s back. You held him in your arms, swaying him back and forth and he finally started to calm down a bit. He sniffled and played with your hair, focusing on trying to tell his dad what he meant.

“Dada, I said you were gonna marry mama,” he let out another small sob, feeling overwhelmed with the whole situation. He was afraid Duncan would be mad at him and that he’d be in trouble for telling you, but most of all, he was just unbearably sad for letting down his dad.

Duncan’s breath hitched in his throat as he heard his son’s confession; his eyes instantly flickered to yours, which were already staring at him, wide and bright with curious wonder. There was so much vulnerability in his blue eyes; you’d never seen him like that before. It was almost startling to look at the love of your life and see a different side to him, one you’d never caught a glimpse of before. He had never felt so exposed and caught off guard in all his life; tears had started to prick the corners of his own eyes. It was beautiful and painful to watch, you thought.

This wasn’t how he had planned it. This wasn’t at all how he had planned it. He was going to wait for the perfect moment... The perfect dinner with a perfect bottle of champagne, under the same moonlight he had fallen in love with you, only to then, get down on one knee, take your hand in his, and ask you to be his and only his forever. Truth be told, that moment had come and gone. Or, at least half of it. He had taken you out to dinner the week before, but he had never gotten down on one knee and he had never asked you that one question that had been dancing across his mind every second of every day since he had finally decided to propose. Deep down, he was terrified. Terrified that you would reject him and he’d lose you forever. A part of him still felt he didn’t deserve you and that one day, you’d realize it.

But now, everything was out in the open. His wants, his feelings, his plans for the future: All of it. He was exposed. Duncan had no wall to hide behind now; his son had torn it down for him.

“Baby, there’s no need to cry. You didn’t ruin anything,” your soft voice spoke to the little boy cradled in your arms, snapping Duncan out of his anxious thoughts. “It’s okay, baby. Daddy isn’t upset with you and mommy isn’t either. We love you so, so, so very much, okay?” You pulled back to look him in his tear-filled eyes. “It’s okay, my love,” you gave him a genuine smile, rubbing his back with small circles.

He was comforted by your words and nestled his head against your neck, feeling the worry start to leave his tiny body. Only small sniffles could be heard now as his eyes started to get heavy with sleep. You continued gently stroking his back as you helped to softly lull him to sleep.

“Plus, mommy wants to marry daddy, too.”

Duncan’s head snapped up, locking his wide eyes with yours as an incredulous look overcame his features. Had he heard you correctly? Had you really meant what you had just whispered? He’d never felt his heart beat this fast in all his life; it felt as though it was about to explode right out of his chest.

“She does?” Duncan spoke quietly and carefully, as you both realized the sweet boy in your arms was now fast asleep from wearing himself out so suddenly with his tears.

You nodded your head, looking at him with every single ounce of love and adoration you had felt for him the past three years of your beautiful relationship. He inched his way closer to you, closing the distance between yourselves while being careful not to wake his son.

He leaned in to place a feather light kiss to your lips, “You know, I had something planned…”

“Is that so?” you smiled against his lips, the small burn of his stubble rubbing against your skin and the warm scent of his cologne mixing to remind you of home.

“Mhm, but I guess this will have to do,” his voice was soft and playful as he reluctantly pulled away from you, reached into his pocket and retrieved a small plush box. You let out a sudden breath, you hadn’t known you’d been holding in, and felt tears begin to spill over your cheeks.

Duncan adjusted himself so he was on one knee and slowly opened the small box in his hands, revealing the most dazzling diamond ring you had ever seen; he had picked it because the sparkle it gave off was reminiscent of your beauty in the moonlight. He looked at you adoringly through crystal, blue eyes, letting a content sigh fall from his lips as he stared at his entire world right in front of him.

“I am so completely and insanely in love with you, Y/N,” he smiled softly as he whispered to you. “I cherish this life we’ve built together, and I can never thank you enough for being there for our son. You’re the best mother this world has ever had and the best partner I could ever ask for. Some days I wake up and I still can’t believe that you’re in my life,” he laughed lightly as his voice began to break; his own tears threatening to spill over now. “You came into my life and made every aspect of it better and, now, I only ask that you allow me the opportunity to do the same for you.”

You held your hand over your mouth to stifle your cries as you peered, through teary eyes, at the love of your life.

With one last exhale and smile, Duncan looked up at you and whispered, “Will you marry me?”

You let out a squeaking noise and nodded frantically while tears fell down your cheeks. “Yes, of course, I’ll marry you!” you tried your best to keep your voice quiet, so as not to disturb the sleeping child in your arms, but you were too overcome with excitement and love for this man.

Duncan’s face lit up and he gave you the brightest smile you had ever seen as he quickly enveloped you in his arms, placing gentle kisses to your face. You could feel his own tears on his cheeks now as he kissed you tenderly. You’d never felt so happy in all your life. This truly was all you needed: Duncan and your son. Your family.

He placed one last passionate kiss to your lips, deepening it while your hand ran through his soft hair. Reluctantly, he pulled away once again, brushing his lips against yours. “What do you say we put little bub down for his nap and then we go and celebrate in our own special way?”

You smiled against his lips, wanting nothing more than to show him just how much love you had for him. “Sounds good to me,” you whispered, placing one more kiss to his lips before feeling Duncan’s hand hold onto yours gently, pulling you up and leading you to the beginning of a new life.

Taglist: @xavierplympton, @lathraios, @no-need-for-rules, @ladynuwanda, @katiekitty261, @sojournmichael, @rosegoldrichie, @langdonsdemon, @hecohansen31, @blakewaterxx, @wroteclassicaly, @michaelsapostle, @kleineshaschen, @whydonthumansfly, @solitalangdon, @fckinsupreme, @olobersy, @femaleantichrist, @peachesandfern, @freak-war-hour, @tigers-pat, @gremlinkween, @donutt-fuck-with-me, @avesxtxnas, @lonely-cloud, @angelbabyscum, @langdondelrey

[captainscanadian]

Stay | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 1)

My Masterlist

Prologue

Summary: Twelve years ago, you ran into a former classmate of yours at a grocery store and ended up going on a life changing adventure. Thanks to your dear older brother, the two of you had become closer than you used to be. But Bucky Barnes... you had no idea what was going to happen between the two of you.

Word Count: 6535

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Tamilian!Reader, Natasha Romanoff x OMC Arjun Y/L/N, Steve Rogers x Platonic!Reader

Warnings: MINIMAL TAMIL DIALOGUE (I’m more than happy to translate!) & TAMIL CULTURE, References to Tamil Literature & Poetry, Mild Swearing, Alcoholism

A/N:This is my entry for @bucky-smiles​‘s 2K Bollywood Writing Challenge! My prompt was to write a Bucky fic inspired by my all time favorite Bollywood movie - Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani! Y’all should go watch it because it’s fucking amazing! But I decided to write this fic with a Tamilian reader because I am Tamilian. I was born in Sri Lanka. But I know that there are a few other Tamilian friends on this site who would love to read this. @jalapenobarnes​ & @fafulous​, THIS ONE IS FOR YOU, MY CHELLANGALA! Ever since I posted this fic, I have received so many kind messages from my fellow Tamilian and other Desi Marvel fans who appreciate the representation that this fic has provided for them. I appreciate every single one of you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you so much for your support for this fic!

12 years ago...

You pushed your black framed glasses up your nose as you squinted, the lined piece of paper in your hand looked like it had been ripped off of an old diary that your mother used to keep. The strains of oil and turmeric on the corner of it, and your mother’s writing in smudging black ink; you wondered how she had even thought that you would be able to read what she had even written. You looked down to read the grocery list in your hand as you let out another exasperated sigh. Your mother’s squiggly Tamil manuscript was barely legible as you tried to figure out what she had written for you to buy.

Despite the fact that you had moved to New York when you had been eight years of age, you had managed to learn English as a second language. While you were fluently speaking English by the time you were ten and had worked rigorously to be rid of your accent that had been the cause of all of the bullying that you had to endure, you could not let go of your first language all that easily either. Your parents had been it their mission to ensure that both you and your brother did not forget how to read, write and speak your mother tongue. From binge-watching VHS copies of old South Indian soap operas to enrolling you in Tamil language credit courses while you were in high school, their mission had certainly been a success.

You spoke Tamil just as well as you wrote it. Your knowledge of Tamil literature and poetry was also fairly extensive, compared to most Tamil kids who were actually born in America. You had read most of the Thirukurral and the poems of Mahakavi Bharathiyar, even Kamba Ramayanam and Silappathikaram. You had your father to credit for that. Your reading comprehension was fairly decent as well, but nothing could have prepared you to decipher what your mother had written on that marinated grocery list of hers.

“Hey, what the fuck are you starin’ at, huh?!” You heard a familiar voice call out, startling you in an instant. “Haven’t you ever seen sexy legs before?!”

As you looked up from the grocery list in your hand, you noticed the familiar red-headed Russian girl whom you had once attended high school with. In her ripped denim shorts and leather jacket, she looked quite feisty as she argued with a young boy whom she had just caught staring at her from behind in the checkout line. She had always been a ticking time bomb, not taking shit from anyone, teachers, bullies and cat callers alike.

“... I have. But those legs aren’t sexy.” The boy had responded to her with sass.

Your eyes grew wide as you parted your lips, unable to believe that a boy his age would dare to challenge someone like that. What even happened to kids these days?

“I’ll fucking slap you!” Natasha Romanoff spat at the teen, raising her voice as she grew irritated by his response. “Apologize! Apologize, right fucking now.”

At that point, the entire grocery store had been staring at the two of them. Leave it to Natasha Romanoff to start a scene like this. She had done so much more during her time in high school though.

While the two of you had not been close, you knew her well enough to know that she was not one to be messed with. The number of times she had almost gotten into physical fights with the jocks and the bitchy cheerleader girls who teased her for being a tomboy and ended up in detention were endless. If it had not been for her two best friends, you were sure that she would have gotten suspended or expelled for her behaviour. After all, that was a consequence to her non-conformity to high school stereotypes.  

This poor boy must have been taken aback by her outburst. But he must have thought twice before he stared at her ass and sassed her out when she caught him. If anything, he had to learn his lesson the hard way. “Sorry...”

“Good. Now go stand on the other checkout line and don’t even dare to stare at me, you idiot.”

As you watched the boy walk away from her in defeat, you made your way over to the checkout line having given up on figuring out what the remainder of items on your mother’s list were. If you could get out of here before it got dark, you could stop by the bookstore on your way home and pick up some of your textbooks for the next semester.

It was the holidays after all. You did not have any plans to celebrate; not that you had anything to celebrate anyways. Diwali had been a month ago and it had been a decent celebration. While lighting fireworks and clay lamps was out of the question, you had spent it with your family by heading to the temple and sharing some homemade sweet treats among yourselves. You and your family did not celebrate Christmas, so you had been planning to study your ass off during the holidays.

With your three weeks off from school, you were planning on getting a head start on your readings for the following semester. The perks of being a pre-med student at an Ivy League school meant that you had a lot of pressure to excel academically. Often times this meant that you barely led a social life. Not that you minded, really. You were content with spending all of your free time being buried in textbooks and studying the last of your teenage years away.  

A typical Tamil girl your parents had always wanted you to be, you had retained your innocence for as long as you could. At twenty-one years of age, you had never been kissed and never had a drop of alcohol enter your system. You still lived at home with your parents while your older brother had found himself moving out after he had left high school. It was just how things were and you had accepted it, not having a single rebellious bone in your body. As most first and second generation immigrants alike, you had found it hard to be the perfect Tamil daughter and a perfect American teenager. You had resorted to being the former, therefore sacrificing any prospects of close friendships or a social life in the process.

As you made your way over to the checkout line next to hers and began to unload your shopping cart, Natasha was quick to notice you as she began unloading her shopping cart as well. Recognizing you in an instant, she grinned widely. “Y/N?! ...Y/N Y/L/N?” She called out to you, her lips curling into a smile as she shook her head in disbelief.

You smiled at her as you laid out your groceries onto the belt. “Hi... Natasha.”

“What’s up, dude? Long time, huh? What have you been up to these days?”

“Nothing much...” You replied with a shrug. “Just... trying to get through pre-med, you know? Columbia’s been kicking my ass.”

“Oh wow, that’s so cool.” She beamed, waiting for the cashier to ring up her items. “You’re still the same, Y/N. Even in high school, you were a straight A student. That is so amazing.”

“How about you, Natasha?” You asked her as the cashier began to ring up your items. “What have you been up to?”

“Just... arts, you know?” Natasha shrugged. “Studying has never been my thing, you know? Thank God, it’s the holidays though! I’m so glad I can finally relax and let loose.”

“Any plans for the holidays?” You asked her, curiously. As someone who has never had a proper holiday for yourself, you wondered what other people did during the holidays.

Perhaps, you wished to live vicariously through everyone else’s experiences. The only ever time you had a chance to travel were during the trips back home with your family. Other than that, you were pretty much stuck in Brooklyn.

“I’m heading to The Hamptons tomorrow...” She replied, excitedly. “We’re going to be skiing!”

“The Hamptons?” You asked, your eyes growing wide at her response. “That sounds quite fancy. What? Are you going with your family?”

“Oh no, I’m actually going with my friends. As a matter of fact, you know them too. Steve and Bucky, you remember them. Steven Rogers... as in my best friend? And Bucky, I mean, James Buchanan Barnes... you know him. He used to skip class all the time and get detention. You even had to tutor him for algebra once for extra credit or something, remember?”

Your eyes grew wide as you recalled her two best friends. You were slightly surprised that they had managed to keep in touch with her after all these years. But then again, the three of them had always been close. They were known as the inseparables around school, always hanging out with each other and slacking off in class together.

Often times, you had found yourself being jealous of their friendship. You wished you had that kind of bond with someone. You had always wanted a best friend but all you had was your older brother.  You had been so lonely ever since you moved to New York.

For some odd reason, your parents had been against you befriending anyone who was not Tamilian. Apparently some bullshit about how anyone else would have corrupted your innocent mind and derail you from your path to being the perfect daughter you had always been. They had claimed that while they ‘trusted’ their daughter, they did not trust the society in which they had to raise their children. It was all bullshit.

Truth be told, your parents really had ruined your chance to make any friends at all. As much as you let your social anxiety get the worst of you, you had to blame them for the role they had played in your lack of a social life.

“Oh... right.” You reached into your purse to pull out the cash that your mother had given you, handing it over to the cashier and taking back your change.

As you grabbed your bagged groceries, Natasha had paid for her own things before walking over to you. “Hey, are you headed home? Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

“What?” You looked up at her in surprise. “Oh no, Natasha... it’s fine. I can take the subway back.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m heading over to see my parents anyways and they live down the street from yours. I’ll drop you off on my way.” She offered with a smile. “Come on, dude!”

For how long could you keep avoiding the kind gestures from people and push them away? You had known Natasha since you had first arrived in New York and you knew that you could trust her, even if your own parents would be against that. Thanks to her short hair, tattoos and piercings that made her seem like bad news according to their judgemental eyes. But at this point, you could care less about what your mother would think about you accepting a ride from Nat. “Fine...” You gave in, struggling to carry your groceries.

“Here, I got it.” Taking one of the bags from you, she began walking out of the store with you in toe. “So, what are your plans for the holidays, huh?”

“Not much, really...” You replied with a shrug. “Just getting ready for the next semester, I guess.”

Nat stopped in her tracks before turning around to face you, her jaw dropping slightly at your response. “What the fuck, Y/N? You really need to give yourself a break. You need to go and do something fun.”

A part of you knew that she was right about that. But truth be told, you did not know how to have fun. For the longest time, your idea of fun had been burying yourself in school. Studying had been fun to you until it became the thing that you always did. Not to mention your lack of a social life ever since you were a kid. After all, you had never even been to a sleepover. Now a legal adult, you had never been to a party. Never been kissed and never gotten drunk. You lived quite a boring life and you did not know how to fix that. “I don’t know, man... I never really did anything fun during the holidays. I just studied... a lot.”

Letting out a sigh of disbelief, she turned around to walk over to her car. “I’ll tell you what...” She unlocked her car before opening the trunk. “Why don’t you come down to The Hamptons with me?” It had been a casual offer, perhaps even one that she had thought you would refuse in an instant, which you initially did. But Natasha knew you and knew how hard it had been for you to make friends in high school. She was finally making the effort to be your friend by offering to let you join her on her trip; she should have done something like this many years ago. But better late than never, right?

“What?!” You gasped, hearing her offer. If it had been that easy for you to pack up and leave to The Hamptons with a skater girl and two boys, you would have done it in a heartbeat. But you knew your parents and there was no way they would even allow you to go on this trip if you had even bothered to ask them in the first place. “Oh no, I can’t...”

“Come on, Y/N! It’ll be so much fun!” She grinned at you before loading the grocery bags in her trunk. “It’ll be just the four of us. It’s like you’re going to be on a trip with strangers. It’s just four school friends hanging out together for a week, catching up.”

“Oh no, Natasha... I shouldn’t be intruding.” You shook your head as you handed her the last of your bags. A part of you was longing to take her up on her offer, but you knew your parents very well and you worried about what they might think. They would never allow you to go off to all the way to The Hamptons with the kids they would have never approved of you to be friends with. Even if you were a pre-med student at Columbia University with a 4.0 GPA, no achievement would have made you worthy of such a trip when it came to their standards.

“You won’t be intruding at all.”

“Yeah, but...” You shook your head at her. “My parents would never allow it.” This had always been your excuse to turning down every invite to a party or a sleepover during high school. Your parents never allowed you to make friends with anyone, because that was just how it was.

“Well, then... we’ll sneak you out. You can’t let your parents dictate what you do and don’t do anymore. How old are you? Like... twenty? Twenty-one? You need to start making your own decisions at some point...” She was right. She knew exactly what she was talking about. “Y/N, you’re a good kid... you’re a good student, you’re doing good in school and working hard. You’ve got to give yourself a break. But there’s nothing wrong with being a little selfish sometimes.”

You sighed. “I... they won’t... I’ve never done anything rebellious my whole life, Natasha. And I don’t know how to... I can’t risk getting in trouble with my parents.”

“That’s why you have me, babe. I’ll sneak you out and have you back home in one piece. You have nothing to worry about. Just pack up your belongings tonight and meet me outside of my parents’ house at 3 in the morning. We’re driving up to The Hamptons ourselves.” She told you. “You don’t even have to pay for the gas. Just bring yourself enough pocket money to rent some ski gear and spend on booze or whatever... and we can spend the whole week skiing.”

“Natasha...” You bit down on your bottom lip. “I can’t...”

“For old time’s sake...”

“I need to think about it.” You admitted.

“Fine... I’ll wait for you until 3:30. If you don’t show up, you’ll see me drive past yours from your bedroom window.” She told you with a playful eye roll. “It’s your loss, Y/N.”

When Natasha had dropped you home that evening, you found yourself locked up in your bedroom for the remainder of the night. You paced back and forth, staring out your window to see her car parked down the street in front of her parents’ house. You had a few hours to contemplate taking her up on her offer. It was either spending another dreadful holiday drowning in your anatomy textbook or skiing with her and her friends. You finally had a chance at making friends of your own and it looked too good to pass up. But the thought of being caught by your parents terrified you, for the punishment would be a harsh one regardless of your academic achievements that should seem to balance it out.

So you did the best thing you could in your search for clarity and told your brother of this offer right away. While being of the male gender had certainly given him more privilege within the family, he knew that his freedom to do whatever he wanted was not something he could take for granted. He understood that as privileged as he was for the way your parents had been lenient on him, you were held to a higher moral standard than he was. Truth be told, he hated that and when it came to advocating for you and what you wanted, he always took your side when arguing with your parents. He was a true ally and the only real best friend you had so far. You could trust him.

“I’ll sneak you out.” Arjun offered in an instant.

Your jaw dropped as you heard his offer. “What?! Anna... are you insane? Amma and Appa would kill me they found out that I left!”

“Illa di, listen to me for a sec. I’m on your side here. Sometimes, you have to be rebellious and go out and get what you want.” He advised. “You’ve been too much of a goody-two-shoes to be treated like shit. I say you take the chance and get the hell out of here for a week.”

“Easy for you to say...” You mumbled as you rolled your eyes at him. “You don’t even live here anymore. But I do... and I don’t want to deal with all this crap because when I get back from this trip, you’ll be gone back to Harvard and I’m the one who’s stuck here.”

Your brother thought for a moment. “I’ll give them an ultimatum.” He suggested, shrugging his shoulders. “If they give you crap for going on this trip, then I’ll drop out of Harvard and flip burgers for a living. Trust me, Amma wouldn’t want that.”

“Anna... no, seriously... no!” You shook your head. “You’re being so dramatic right now and there’s no need for that. I’m not going.”

“Hey... po, di. If you don’t want to go for yourself, enakkaga po. Do this for me, please, di?” He told you with a pout. “Go out there and make some friends. You deserve it.”

You bit down on your bottom lip before sighing. “I’m terrified... but... I also want to go.”

“Then go. Go to the Hamptons... go make some friends. I don’t want you to end up friendless when I go off, get married and have my own family one day.” He admitted, chuckling softly. “You’ve been alone for so long, di kannamma. Go enjoy yourself while you’re young. You deserve it.”

You nodded as you pulled him into a hug. “You’re too good to me. Thank you, da Anna. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Hugging you back tightly, he sighed in contentment. “Anything for my kannamma.” He laughed as he held you close. The two of you shared a close bond and it was frankly because you were each other’s best friend. He would take a bullet for you in a heartbeat, so it was no surprise that he was willing to face your parents for your sake. “Now go up to your room, pack up your things and wait. I’ll come and get you when it’s time and we can climb out my bedroom window, sariya?”

You laughed softly and nodded, pulling back from the hug. “Sari...”

And with that, you had snuck up to your bedroom and managed to back yourself a suitcase full of your belongings. You were only going to be there for a week so there was not much to pack. But you were also cautious of how much you packed anyways, considering that you would need to launch this suitcase of yours off of the roof before you managed to sneak out your brother’s bedroom window. The last thing you wanted was for your parents to wake up from the commotion and catch you red-handed. You did not need this attempt at going on a holiday trip to come to an end before it had even started.

When the time came, your brother had helped you climb out through his bedroom window and threw your suitcase onto the sidewalk. Once he climbed down the roof, he helped you down and the two of you sprinted down the street towards the Romanoff Residence.

“Nat!” You called out to the redhead as you reached her parents’ house, your brother following after you with your suitcase.

“Y/N, you made it!” Natasha grinned as she ran up to you, tackling you with a triumphant hug.

You were taken aback by her embrace but you returned it anyways, your heart still beating right out of your chest from the adrenaline rush that came with sneaking out of your house and running down the street. “Yeah, I... I did.” You admitted, laughing softly. You were glad that you had not backed out of this ordeal, thanks to your supportive older brother who wanted nothing more than for you to be happy.

Arjun watched as the two of you pulled back from the hug. “Natasha Romanoff.”

“Arjun.” She bowed her head at your brother. “Good to see you. Thanks for bringing her over.”

“Don’t mention it.” He winked at her before turning over to you. “You two should get going.”

You nodded as you pulled your brother into a tight hug. “Thank you... for being the best big brother I could ever ask for.” Your eyes glazed over as you realized how much trouble he was going to be in for the part he played in your disappearance for a week. But you were grateful that he had been there for you. “I love you, da Anna.”

“I love you too, di kannamma.” He hugged you tightly. “Have fun, okay? You deserve it.”

Natasha stood by as she watched the two of you say goodbye to each other. A part of her found it quite warming that the two of you had such a close bond. But unbeknownst to her, she had also admired how genuine and attractive Arjun really was. But that was a story for another time.

Once your brother had returned home, you and Natasha climbed into her car and she began driving towards Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes’ loft apartment. After all, this entire trip had been planned by the formerly chubby-cheeked and crooked-toothed boy whom you used to tutor. Hopefully, he would not mind that his little excursion had been crashed by his high school class’s resident ‘scholar’.

Present Day...

You tossed and turned in bed as you struggled to fall asleep, snuggling up to your pillow a you pulled the duvet over your shivering body. Despite the fact that you had slept in this bed for years, you had a hard time sleeping in it now. It was as though a part of you had forgotten how it felt to be home, which was partly your fault. After all, it had been your choice to leave home after you had graduated from Columbia. Your search for even the slightest of freedom had been satisfied, but coming home had always been a pain in the ass. You could not sleep.

You sat up in your bed as you let out a sigh of exhaustion, leaning your back against the headboard as you looked around your dimly lit childhood bedroom. Letting out a yawn, you reached over to grab your phone from the nightstand to check your notifications, hoping to see some missed call or text message from work so that you could have an excuse to leave the house in the middle of the night, this time through the front door rather than your brother’s bedroom window.

But you had been disappointed to find no messages from the hospital, meaning that you had no choice but to force yourself to go back to bed. Before you could lie back down though, you heard a slight knock on your door. “Kannamma?” Your brother said softly as he knocked. “Thoongittiya, di?”

“No... I can never fucking sleep in this house anymore.” You groaned as you climbed out of bed and made your way over to open the door. “Anna? What the hell are you two doing up at this hour?” You noticed that he was dressed in a pair of slacks and a button down shirt, a half-asleep Natasha standing behind him. “You were on call tonight?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I was... I just got called in. You think you could keep your Anni some company while I’m gone?” He asked you with a chuckle. “She likes you more than me.”

You nodded, giggling slightly as you yawned. “Sure, I guess...” You moved out of the way so that Natasha could enter your room and you let her hug you from behind. “I think she loves me, actually. She loves me more than you.”

“Yeah, keep saying that to yourself.” He mocked you with a playful eye roll before turning over to his future wife. “I’ll see you in the morning, Nat.”

“Drive safe, baby.”

“Bye, da.”You called out to him as he walked away.

Natasha chuckled as she made her way over to your bed and lay down. “I can never get used to this.” She admitted as she climbed under the blanket and stared up at the ceiling for a moment.

You closed the door behind you before walking over to your bed. “You know he doesn’t like working nights. He just has no choice in that matter. He’s trying to get it all sorted out, you know. Hopefully, he can open his own practice at some point.” You admitted. “I on the other hand, I love working nights. I love that I don’t have anyone to go home to, unlike my Anna. Hell, it feels strange not working tonight. I can’t even fucking sleep right now.”

She turned over to face you. “You do work a lot so I guess being single is convenient for you.” She agreed. “But do you ever see yourself... actually having someone to go home to? Getting married and having kids of your own?”

You let out a chuckle before shaking your head. “Did you? Did you ever think you’d be getting married... to anyone, let alone my brother?”

“No, I didn’t... but fate works in weird ways, doesn’t it? It brought you and I together and then... it brought your brother and I together.” Natasha reminded, sighing as she hugged you gently.

“You ever wonder what would have happened if we had never run into each other at the grocery store that day?” You asked her, curiously.

“We wouldn’t be best friends.” She admitted, laughing. “We wouldn’t be family. I think we have Arjun to thank for that night.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I guess... if it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t be best friends.” And you wouldn’t have fallen in love with Bucky Barnes either.

12 years ago...

You covered your ears with your hands as Natasha honked one more time, hopefully the last time she would do so within the last ten minutes. The sound of the never-ending honking must had woken up the entire neighborhood by now, but unfortunately, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes happened to be heavy sleepers.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” She called out as she rolled down the window. “Steve, Bucky, I swear to fucking God if you don’t get your asses down here in two fucking minutes, I’m leaving without you!” She called out towards the second floor window of the building you had been parked in front of.

Despite the fact that it was way too early in the morning to be causing a scene in the middle of the street, it seemed as though the redhead did not give a shit about any of that. Her friends were both running late and she was certainly not happy about being the only one who had any sense of punctuality between the three of them.

After all, it had been Bucky Barnes’ idea that they drive all the way to The Hamptons at the ass crack of dawn. The least she would have hoped was for the two of them to be ready and waiting for her to arrive. But instead they had both been sleeping on their asses until she pulled up and honked for them to come out. With her lack of sleep causing her to be irritated, she was in no mood to be driving as it was and the boys being late was not helping at all.

It was another few minutes and constant honking before the two boys came running out of their apartment building, their duffel bags and ski gear in hand.

“Jesus Christ, Nat! You probably woke up the entire neighborhood!” Steve Rogers yelled at his friend as he loaded his belongings onto the trunk, followed by Bucky’s.

Bucky Barnes ran his hand through his wet hair that had now frosted up in the cold as he got into the car, his eyebrows furrowing as he noticed the uninvited guest in the backseat. He looked just the same as he did three years ago, the only difference being that he had chopped off his long locks for a shorter hair do. It seemed fitting for the young adult look that he had been trying to pull off lately.

But he still had his high school charm on him, the one that you could not get away from no matter how hard he tried. “Hey... you?!” He looked over at you with a confused expression on his face, noticing that you looked so familiar to him yet he could not place how he had known you. He was just as forgetful as you remembered him to be. “Uh... do I know you from somewhere?”

You raised your eyebrow at him slightly. “You... do???” You swallowed your own drool as you caught yourself staring at him and looked away for a moment, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear as you avoided his eye contact.

“Has your pea brain really forgotten high school that fast, Barnes?” Natasha snickered from the driver’s seat as Steve got in the car, buckling up as he turned around to notice you sitting behind him.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” He gave you a look of surprise, but smiled genuinely happy to see you. “Long time.”

“Hi Steve.” You smiled at him before waving slightly, your eyes darting back to the confused former classmate of yours who had finally managed to recognize you as his former algebra tutor. “I hope you don’t mind me crashing your trip, by the way. Natasha invited me and I couldn’t say no.”

“Y/N?! Oh my God... Scholar Y/N, how could I forget these glasses?” Bucky laughed as he pulled you into a side hug. “It’s been so long, oh my God! How have you been, doll?”

You bit down your bottom lip as you felt yourself blush, slightly taken aback by his rather forward attempt for a reunion hug. “Uh... yeah, I... I’ve been alright.” You did not know what to say as you pushed your glasses up your nose, giggling slightly as you pulled back from him quickly but not as awkwardly as you had feared.

“Jeez, we used to flip a coin to see which one of us gets to sit next to you when we had exams.” Steve recalled with a chuckle as Natasha started the car.

“What? Why?”

“Because whoever won the toss and sat next to you was guaranteed to pass the exam!” Bucky replied, laughing as he shook his head. “You were such a nerd back then, doll.”

“I still am.” You admitted, proudly as you laughed and gave him a playful eye roll. “I take it you’re still skipping class and roaming the town with your camera?” You remembered that Bucky Barnes had a knack for photography, having been involved with the yearbook committee and the school newspaper for multiple years. You had worked closely with him when you had been the editor of the school newspaper during your senior year, so it was not as awkward being in the presence of these three. Thankfully, they were not absolute strangers to you.

“Yeah, I... I’ve been interning with a studio though. Photography is my calling.” He told you as he motioned towards his camera bag next to you. He never left the house without it and he was hoping to document as much of this trip as he possibly could. After all, this was going to be the last trip he was going to take with his friends and neither of them knew that yet.

“So, you still have no plans for going to college then?” You asked him. You remembered that Bucky had initially decided to take a gap year and go traveling after your class had graduated from high school. As Natasha had told you during your drive over to pick up the boys, it turned out that he had not managed to go back to school when he had returned from his trip to Italy.

Bucky bit down on his bottom lip before letting out a sigh. “Not for now...” He told you with a shrug, but it was a partial lie. After all, he had received his acceptance letter for a Journalism and Media Degree in London earlier this month. But he had chosen not to break the news to his friends just yet.

“We’ve actually been saving up our money, Y/N. We’re going to open our own bar in Williamsburg and be business partners, isn’t that right, Buck?” Steve clarified.

He looked up at his best friend with a small smile, but did not nod his head. Unbeknownst to you, the reason behind his silence would eventually cause a drift between all of you by the time this trip came to an end.

Present Day...

When you and Natasha woke up the next morning, the two of you headed out to mail out the wedding invitations that the two of you had finished packing up the night before. Your best friend turned sister-in-law made it her mission to personally deliver Steve Rogers’ invitation to him, just to make sure that he knew that he had no choice but to attend the wedding. With his current financial situation though, the two of you were sure that he would do anything to avoid the wedding. But Nat was not going to have any of it.

You should not have been so surprise to have walked into an empty restaurant, but you could not help but feel slightly bad about how your friend’s business had taken the turn for the worst. You knew that this was not what Steve had signed up for when he had first purchased this restaurant with all of his savings, but he had kept it going for as long as he could.

Natasha blamed his recent increase in alcohol consumption for his failing business, but you knew that there was more to Steve’s pain that he had resorted to drinking as a coping mechanism. Perhaps, this intervention was a much needed one.

“Ladies...” Steve laughed as he walked out of the kitchen with a cold glass of whiskey in his hand. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Steve, it’s 10 am... what the fuck are you doing, getting drunk this early in the morning?! Give me that glass!” Natasha walked up to him and tried to take his glass from him, only to fail miserably.

“I’m a grown ass man, Nat. I can do whatever the fuck I want...” He muttered carelessly before downing his drink and setting down his glass. “Always goes down easy.”

“Steve...” You sighed as you walked up to him, your lips curling into a frown as you pulled him into a hug. “Steve, come on... I know the restaurant is in a lot of debt right now but drinking your ass off is not going to solve that.”  

“Don’t tell me what to do, doctor.” He chuckled as he hugged you back. “If I drink myself all the way to cirrhosis, then that’s my fucking choice.”

“I don’t like what I’m hearing, Rogers.” You admitted, shaking your head at his words. “You’re struggling, buddy. Just admit that you need help and we’re more than happy to throw in a little investment, just to get this place back up and running like it did when it first opened. We hate seeing you like this, you know?”

“No...” He shook his head as he sighed. “I can’t do that, Y/N. You guys... have your own lives and your own shit to worry about. Don’t... waste your time and energy being worried about me or my business.”

“But we are worried about you, you asshole.” Natasha admitted, joining in on the hug. “I’m getting married and I hate that my best friend is... fucking miserable. I hate to see you like this. If you won’t even let us pitch in to keep this place going, then at least stop drinking your days away. The last thing I want is for you to leave me for good like he did. I’ve lost one of you already the way that I did... I can’t lose another friend either.”

“Don’t bring him up, please. I don’t want to talk about him.”

You shook your head at Natasha before you sighed, rubbing Steve’s back as you bit back your tears. “Fine, we don’t have to talk about anything... or anyone. But we have a wedding to get ready for. So, can we at least focus on that for the next few weeks?”

“Fine.” Steve admitted, finally forcing himself to smile a genuine smile. “Anything for my two favorite ladies and you becoming family.”

[is0gild]

Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 10

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 7,783

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

It’s times like these that I really do wonder which is more nerve-racking: being thrust into a social interaction unwillingly with a whole bunch of people? Or unwittingly with just one single, solitary person?

With the large group, it was definitely and without a doubt overwhelming. Just finding the strength alone to speak up and join in the conversation was a skill that still escaped me. And even if you did manage to get so much as two words out, that meant all eyes were suddenly on you. What if you talked too much? Or too little? What if you forgot what you were saying at all? Or worse, what if you said something stupid? What if you embarrassed yourself so bad that there’d be no showing your face ever again in the light of day, much less to another human being?

Which, if I’m being totally honest, I would probably find kind of amazing.

Hermit for life, yo.

But then, there were also advantages to the crowd. The biggest one being that an antisocial, cave-dwelling troll like me? More often than not could get away with saying nothing at all. Everyone else could handle all the chit-chat while I simply faded into the background and soaked up the ambiance. That way, I could just make an appearance and give the illusion of being socially active without actually being socially active.

One-on-one exchanges, on the other hand? Now those were a whole other beast. No, make that whole other species.

There was no fading into the background here. There wasn’t even a background to fade into. All there was was you and the other person. A person you were expected to carry half of the conversation with. When put on the spot like that with someone I barely knew, forget having a back-and-forth dialogue like a normal and well-adjusted friggin’ adult, I was lucky if I got anything out of my mouth more sophisticated than “uh” or “um.” Then there were the awkward silences where I’d frantically try to come up with something, anything to say only to have my useless lump of a brain play possum and draw a total blank. I died a thousand and one deaths in those damn silences.

And okay, sure, this was Lea we were talking about. An individual who by now I’d shockingly, and on more than one occasion no less, made reasonably successful small talk with. But a few minutes of a lunch break here or some brief, friendly banter while I was taking his order as my customer there was completely different than now finding myself alone with him in a booth at some random pub on a Friday night.

And besides, it was Lea. Lea, who I’d seen shirtless and slathered in ice cream. Lea, whose lips my lips had thrown themselves at within the first five minutes of meeting him. Lea, who-

Damn it, brain, really? Was now really the best time to be playing the highlight reel of Elsa’s Greatest Embarrassing Hits?

Needless to say?

I.

Was.

Terrified.

Anna Fryse, if you could please report to the table in the back right corner, your older sister is waiting for you and is in desperate need of someone to hide behind right about now.

Also, Anna, if you were ever planning on developing the ability to psychically read thoughts, particularly mine, now would be the time to do it.

...of course, for her to hear that message, she’d need to already be psychic.

And if she was, that meant she was ignoring me.

Which she totally would do.

Brat.

Checking back into reality momentarily, it was in this second that it came to my attention that I was staring at Lea without realizing it. Well now I realized it. Particularly because he was looking back at me with a smile. My heart flatlined, my face paled and my eyes darted away.

Oh god, I had been staring. Did he know I’d been staring? ...of course he did, Elsa you dope! That’s generally what two people do when they're sitting together at a table talking.

Talking. Right. That was a thing I should be doing.

Alright, brain, I know you’re doing your best impersonation of the sound of a mime convention in there right now, but I’m going to need you to work with me here. Think of a word. Any word. Just something to get the conversation rolling. Oh yes. I can feel it. Here it comes. And that word is…

Flamingo.

...seriously, brain? Hadn’t we already said all that there was to say on the subject of flamingos earlier during the little palm notes debacle? Need we bring that back up again? I mean, I do see where you’re coming from - once you ask a man what he does in his flamingo, what else more is there to discuss with him, really? Might as well just-

“Fabracadabra?”

Lea’s voice broke through my thoughts, drawing my eyes back to him.

Wow. Now that was a really good word.

Way better than my lame word. Pssh, flamingo? What was that even about?

Wait… his word was also the name of another one of our ice cream flavors.

He took a swig from his ale as he studied me for a second, cocking his head before at last shaking it. “Nope. Too fruity sweet. You’re the type o’ gal who likes something with a lil more...” he clicked his teeth together with a smirk, “...bite to it.”

I blinked, some of my tension relaxing. Then my lips were doing something strange. Was it that crazy thing all the kids were doing nowadays, what’s it called? I believe the term was… grinning? “You’re… still trying to guess which one is my favorite?”

“Just you wait and see,” he scooched around the booth to sit closer to me, sliding the Ifrit bottle along the table with him, “I’m gonna get it. Mark my word.”

Turning my head slightly, I gave him some side-eye. “...you seem pretty sure of yourself.”

“With good reason! I’m twelve-and-oh, baby. Haven’t been wrong yet. Trust me, your top pick off the Ice Palace menu is as good as called.”

“Who ever said it was an Ice Palace signature flavor?”

His head rocked back at that, then he narrowed his eyes, “You play dirty.”

I hid a smile behind my fingers. “Want a hint?”

“Nah,” he leaned back, propping his elbows on the high back rim of the booth and stretching his long legs out under the table, crossed at the ankles. “Hints are for game show contestants and lame-os who lack self-confidence.”

“And you certainly have no shortage of confidence.”

He beamed, closing his eyes. “Nope! Who has two thumbs and is one cocky ass mofo?” Said two thumbs pointed at himself. “This guy.”

A soft snort escaped me and I shook my head. “No doubt about that,” I murmured as I looked away.

You know what? Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad afterall. Actually, it was turning out kind of... nice.

My gaze settled on Anna and Kristoff out there. It was all the poor boy could do to keep up with my sister on the dance floor. She even tossed him out into a spin at one point, much to his surprise if the face he made was any clue. But he seemed to be coming around to the whole experience. It even looked like he might be, dare I say it, having fun. They both did. Watching the two of them had me feeling an upward tug at one corner of my lips.

“So how ‘bout it?” I heard Lea ask.

I looked back at him, quirking an eyebrow. “How about what?”

His eyes crinkled as he nodded towards an open spot out in the middle of the pub. “Wanna dance?”

Cue sound of shattering glass.

“Ack! My drink!” Rayne yelped from the booth behind me. “Sorry, I’ll pay to replace the cup!”

As for me? I’d choked. On what? My heart launching itself up into my throat would be my guess.

“W-with you?” my mouth blurted out without consulting me first.

“No, with Grand High King Fuddy-Duddy over there sporting the scar,” he tapped a finger to the bridge of his nose, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, with me.”

Why? Why would he ask-? What could he possibly be- Oh! Oh I get it now! He was just being nice! Yeah, that had to be it. He just wanted to make sure I had fun tonight. That I felt included. He was being a good friend. He really was a very sweet guy.

But me? Dance with Lea? Me? Who cowered and fled at the first sign of any form of human contact? Nope. Couldn’t do it. Quite simply no way, no how. Dancing with Lea meant I’d have to get close to him. That I’d have to touch him. Er… not to say that there was anything wrong with touching him! I mean, it actually might be quite pleasant to-

Wait, what?

Uh… let’s just put a pin in that wayward thought there and come back to it later, like say, oh I don’t know… never. In the meantime, Lea was still waiting on my answer.

I opened my mouth to give it.

All that came out was a squeak.

...let’s try that again, shall we?

Clearing my throat and snatching a wisp of my hair to tangle around my fingers, I at last got out a hasty, “No, I don’t think so.”

Was that harsh? It sounded harsh. Ugh, this is why I don’t do people!

He tsked and sighed. “It’s cuz I’m ugly, isn’t it?”

“What?!” I blanched before quickly shaking my head. “No! No, no, no! That’s not it! Not because you’re ugly! I mean, you’re not! Ugly, that is! Not at all! Far from it, you’re very-” I slapped both hands over my mouth, face roasting.

Shut up. Shut up right now.

I watched him bend forward, planting one elbow on the table and chin in his palm as he now eyed me with a wide, cheshire grin. “Do go on, I’m all ears. I’m very…?”

Oh this smug, son of a…

My eyelids drooped and I lowered my hands. “...very manipulative in fishing for compliments.”

“Guilty,” he snerked, leaning back once more and slouching a bit into the cushions. His grin twitched wider, “So, that’s a hard no then?”

I couldn’t help a tiny smile of my own. “Sorry. I... just don’t dance.”

“No worries. Figured you might say something like that. But couldn’t pass up the chance to ask either,” he winked, taking another sip of his drink. Then he paused, pursing his lips to one side and rubbing the nape of his neck. “...so what is your story anyway?”

Brow furrowing, I asked, “My story?”

He struck up a finger, “You’re twenty-two. Fresh outta college. Guessing Ivy League no less just by the look of you, but total shot in the dark there. And you just got your first job… in a mall food court. Which, ya know, absolutely nothing wrong with that, but it’s the type of gig that only teens, university students, and college dropouts go for. Take it from me, a dropout twice over now, but back at it again for round three hoping it sticks this time,” up the hand went again, now with index and middle digits crossed.

“Why didn’t it the first couple times?” my head tipped to one side.

Who, me? Trying to take focus off myself? Deflecting? Psssh, I would never!

He splayed a hand out over his chest, “Believe it or not, I wasn’t always the well-adjusted, level-headed and responsible individual that you see before you today.”

“Really?” I snorted, squinting at him. “Is that what I’m seeing before me? I hadn’t realized.”

“Shush, you. Trust me, six, seven years ago? I was a real punkass troublemaker. The kind of boy you don’t bring home to your parents, all about the sex, drugs and rock-n-roll scene, ya know? That whole college thing sounded lame to me, but all my friends were doing it, so figured hell,” he shrugged, “why not give it a shot? But me and college didn’t really play well together. I didn’t take it seriously, not really. So eventually decided it wasn’t for me and kicked it to the curb. Few years later? Thought myself older, wiser, ready to give the big ol’ four years and a diploma deal a second chance. But I was just fooling myself, I hadn’t changed one bit. Wasn’t long before we were parting ways once again.”

I folded my arms on the table, “So what’s changed? Why is try number three going to be different?”

Lea frowned up at the ceiling. “I guess you just hit a point in your life when you realize you don’t want to be slinging pizza dough at minimum wage forever. Even a screwup like me’s got dreams. Nothing too fancy... just maybe something like owning and operating my own place. Maybe a lil ice cream parlour by the beach, a real mom and pop kind of store.

“Ah, it’s silly,” he chuckled, shaking his head, “but either way, I know jackshit about running a business. And that’s why I’m back to hitting those books once again and this time I’m doing my damnedest to hammer some knowledge into this thick skull of mine,” he pointed to his temple. “I’ve really buckled down and, uh…” his eyes darted away, “...shall we say, kicked some old habits.”

“You sound like you really want to make it work this time.” I propped one elbow next to the Shiva, leaning my cheek into my hand. “I haven’t known you that long, but based on what I do know about you, I’m guessing there isn’t much you can’t do once you’ve really set your mind to it.”

“Thanks!” he laughed. Then his smile turned a shade wry, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to change the subject on me.”

...fudge.

He went on, “You got my story, now I’d love to hear yours.”

“I told you already,” I frowned, my hands reaching for a napkin to start twisting between them. “My, er… my major didn’t work out. This job… it’s temporary and-”

Lea cut me off with a wave of his hand, “Yeah, yeah, I know what ya said. I’m more interested in what wasn’t said.”

I grimaced, my fingers strangling the poor paper napkin harder. “It’s… a long story.”

“I got time. Loads of it. Only if you want to talk about it though. No pressure, it just looks like you need it.”

Did I? What was that supposed to mean anyway? “...It’s kind of personal. I’m not even sure if it’s something I really should be talking about.”

His forehead wrinkled. “What, like it’s a secret?” Then his face brightened. “I love a good secret! Okay, how about this. Let’s do a trade. I’ll give you one of my secrets, you give me one of yours. Could be anything, big or small, just whatever you want.”

I blinked at him.

Apparently, he took that as a yes, for now he was hunching forward, bringing his face closer to mine and whispering, “So here’s one that only one other person knows and only cuz he’s known me since he and I were in diapers. Not even the kiddos are in on it. Okay, so, my first name?” He gave one more quick glance around to make sure the coast was clear before lowering his voice even further, “Not actually Lea.”

My eyebrows knit together. “It’s not?”

“Nope,” he shook his head. “Middle name. Go by it cuz I hate my first name.”

“Which is?”

His face pinched. “Axel.”

“...Axel,” I repeated flatly, one eyebrow arching.

“Yup. Apparently, my folks were total diehards for Guns n’ Roses. But the real kicker? The couple o’ useless junkies that gave me life were apparently too high off whatever drug o’ the week they were on to even make sure the name was spelled right on the birth certificate. So instead of having a rockstar singer for a namesake, I’m named after a goddamn skateboard trick all thanks to one stupid E that wasn’t s’posed to be there,” he grumbled, throwing himself back into his seat and slumping down, crossing his arms.

I just stared at him for a second, silence stretching. Then I spluttered and burst out in laughter, trying to smother it behind my hands.

“Wow, rude much?” he deadpanned.

“I’m sorry, I really am! It’s just, with the name and that whole story and your pout…” Oh gosh, that pout! I thought he was supposed to be twenty-five, not five. Still giggling but sobering somewhat, I continued, “I just couldn’t help myself. I really am sorry though, I know I shouldn’t have found it funny.”

“Bah, it’s fine,” he brushed off with a grin. “I’ve had my whole life to get over it and yeah, it’s a lil funny. But now it’s your turn, Missy. Gimme a secret. Anything’ll do. And don’t worry, I’ll be a lot nicer about it than some insensitive clods at the table,” he gave me a pointed look, smirk still in place to show he was only teasing.

Oh. Right. That. I’d almost forgotten. Though technically, I’d never agreed to anything. Then again, he did just kind of bare his soul to me. And I did just kind of ridicule him when he did. So maybe… in a way, I sort of owed it to him?

“I…” My voice wavered as I hesitated, hands mangling the napkin again. I gnawed my lower lip, looking down, hearing the thudding in my ribcage get louder. Finally, I squeezed my eyes shut and opened my mouth, not fully sure what was going to come out. “My parents… have no idea where I am right now. They haven’t for a while.”

His eyes widened slightly at that. Whatever he’d be expecting, apparently it hadn’t been that.

Hey, same boat here, buddy.

“Oh… I see,” was all he said at first, taking another slow pull from his drink now as he turned this new little tidbit over in his head.

And that wasn’t even the half of it. I hadn’t mentioned the type of family I was from. Or that’d I’d been in a relationship, no, engaged with a fiancé. Or that’d I’d left him at the altar on my wedding day. Or that when I had, I’d made the split second decision to abandon the only existence I’d ever known and was now stumbling through life with absolutely zero clue as to what the frick I was actually doing.

...yeah, that would have been a lot. Perhaps a bit too much for sharing time. I think I’d made the right call with dropping only this one tiny piece of the puzzle. At least for now. And who knows? He seemed pretty perceptive, maybe it’d be enough for him to read between the lines and answer some of his questions about me. Then again, maybe not.

At last he leaned forwarded onto his elbows, one arm tucked behind the other, and said, “Alright, I’m gonna take a crack at this and you can let me know if I’m right. Or not. You don’t even have to say jackshit, you can just let me blather on like the big lunkhead that I am who likes the sound of his own voice too much, which I’m used to so no worries, totally your call.” He paused, steepling his fingers to his lips as he seemingly gathered his thoughts. Then, “Up ‘til now, I’m guessing you’ve probably led a pretty sheltered life. One where you were maybe used to having all the decisions made for you. But then, for whatever reason or other, you recently decided to cut the cord. So now you find yourself out in the big, bad world that no one really prepared you for, scrambling to find a foothold, scared shitless and just trying to figure out what the hell to do with yourself, let alone with your future.”

Holy… how on earth did he…?

Swallowing hard, I fiddled with the straw in my cocktail and mumbled, “Wow, you are good. Ever consider becoming one of those windup psychics in a box that spits out fortunes on little cards?”

He snorted. “Sure did, but was too dang tall to fit into the glass case. Too bad, those lil dudes have it made.” Then he tilted his head. “...want some unsolicited advice?”

I shrugged, now absently stirring the blue liquid of my drink. “Sure, why not.”

“Get out there. Explore. Try new things. Right now, I’m guessing your worldview is very small, so you need to expand it. It’s the only way you’ll figure out what to make of your life. Cuz as glamorous as it is, I suspect you’re like me and don’t exactly want to be working the food court all the way up into your golden years.”

Now I looked up at him, a crease forming between my eyebrows. “...are you telling me to get out of my comfort zone?”

Lea chuckled, scratching his cheek, “Sure, I guess that’d be one of way of putting it.”

“That’s actually something I’ve been hearing a lot lately,” I sighed, sinking further down into my seat. Sure, it sounded good in theory. But in practice? Easier said than done. “...any suggestions on where to start?”

He gave a low hum, rubbing a curled knuckle to his chin. Then his eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers. “Got just the thing! Be back in a jiff!” Then he sprung up to his feet, one hand on top the table to catapult himself over it and out the booth. As soon as his shoes hit the floor, he raced off, disappearing into the bar crowd.

...okay?

Should I be afraid? Yes, I think I should be afraid. Very, very afraid.

My eyes squinted, scanning the crush of soberly-challenged people out there, searching for that distinctive fiery head of hair. Should have been easy given Lea was a living embodiment of Mount Fuji, but even so, I was having trouble spotting him.

A sudden blur darted out of the throng and landed hard on the cushion beside me, crashing into my side and distracting me from my hunt.

Said blur was Anna. Surprise, surprise.

“Whew!” she puffed out happily, sweating and fanning herself with one hand while the other crammed fries into her mouth. “That boy… Kristoff, was it? Man oh man, would he be in trouble if I didn’t already have a boyfriend!”

Both eyebrows shot up my forehead.  “Boyfriend?” That was news to me. “Since when?”

She froze mid-bite, shoulders stiffening and eyes going round. Then she snatched up her drink, slurping it down as her eyes shifted rapidly about. Then with a loud gulp, she at last let out a weak laugh, “It, uh… it’s new! Yeah, we… met… at the wedding! Sorry I didn’t tell you, I just didn’t want to say anything because I, er… felt bad! With, ya know, your love life all in the toilet and the bombed engagement and whatnot, so… heh…”

“Oh,” I averted my gaze with a tiny frown. At the wedding, huh? Was it someone from his side of the family? Or maybe a friend of his? Regardless, it didn’t really matter I supposed. I directed a soft smile her way, “I’m fine, really. There was no need for you to hold back. You know you can always tell me anything.”

“I know that!” she laughed, flicking one hand dismissively. “But please, it’s me. I have a new beau like every other week, so it’s hardly anything to stop the presses over! No, the real scoop here is what’s the deal with you and Lea? I wanna know everything!”

“Lea?” I creased my brow, making another quick visual sweep for the guy in question. Still no dice, but I did see Yuffie across the way playing a game of Darts with Meg and Terra. Though… could it still really be called Darts when the projectiles being used were more of those little ninja stars? Either way, it came as little to no shock when next a scowling Leon could be glimpsed making a beeline for the trio. “What about Lea?”

“Don’t play coy! I saw you two getting all cozy-like in this booth here all by yourselves just a minute ago!” her eyebrows waggled.

I scoffed. “There was nothing cozy about it. We were just talking.”

“And smiling. Like, a lot.”

“So? People smile when they talk.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “Yeah, people. You don’t. Except for with me and Ray-Ray.  Plus,” and here she got in my face, jabbed a finger into my collarbone and paused with all the drama of Sherlock Holmes about to reveal the key piece of evidence at the climax of an epic murder mystery.  “...you laughed.”

Eyelids drooping, I grumbled, “I laugh all the time.”

“Nu-uh! And not like this, you don’t! Gawd, it’s been… I don’t even know how long since I heard a noise like that out of you. You can’t fool me, there’s definitely something between you two. A… a spark!”

A half groan, half huff escaped me. Anna was always like this. She’d binged one too many romantic comedies in her as of yet short existence on this earth. I’d been considering telling her about the Kissident, but now? Bad idea. Like, in all the history of bad ideas, it would just be the absolute worst. She’d have a field day with that one. Better to keep it on the hush-hush for the time being. “There is no spark! There’s not even a… a flicker! Or a glimmer! Or a glint! Not even a fizzle, okay? We’re just friends. Besides, I just broke up with a fiancé not even a month ago, so alleged sparks are the furthest thing from my mind, understand?

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” she slyly brought the Golden Chocobo back up to her lips.

Eyes narrowing dangerously, I cracked my knuckles, “Methinks if the little sister doth enjoy breathing, she’ll knoweth when to zip it.”

“Methinks the little sister is zipping it forthwith!” Anna chirped with a two finger salute. There was a lull as she plucked another fry to give it a nibble. Then, “Sis, can I just tell you how amazing this is?”

My head dipped to one side. “What is?”

“This!” Her arms spread out wide before bringing both hands in to gesture at me, “You! Being out in the real world! Making it on your own! Meeting new people! Having a job! All of it! You’re different! It’s a good different! And this is just the start too, I can already see it, you’re gonna do great things. I’m so proud of you,” she cooed, pinching my cheek.

I swat her hand away, “Great things? Please, Anna… I scoop ice cream at a mall.”

“Yeah, for now! But that alone was a huge step for you. I mean, c’mon, if someone had told you a year ago that you’d be out from under Mom and Dad’s tyrannical thumbs and doing the whole independent thing, you’d probably would’ve just thought that person was spouting crazy talk.”

“I suppose that’s true,” I murmured, feeling the hint of a grin pulling at one side of my mouth. “I guess… I never knew what I was really capable of.”

“Well, now you’ve had just the kick in the rear you needed to find out!” Her smirk then slowly faded into a tiny grimace. “Listen… I’m so sorry about what happened. If I’d known how unhappy you were, I never would’ve let you get all the way up to the day of wedding bells before-”

“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize,” I shook my head, putting my hand on top of hers. “It wasn’t your job to save me, it was mine. I just… should have done something about it sooner. Then maybe things wouldn’t be the disaster zone I imagine they are now back at home,” I puffed out a heavy sigh.

Anna laughed, “You got that right! Mom and Dad? Still hella pissed! So any thoughts on when you’re gonna talk to them?” I winced, looking away. She hastily tacked on, “No rush or anything! And you don’t have to worry about me spilling the beans to them either about where you’re laying low! Take all the time you need. I just think-”

“Sorry to interrupt ladies!” We both jumped slightly in our seats as Lea made a sudden reappearance, skidding to a stop beside our table, eyes bright and ear-to-ear grin splitting his face in two. “But I’m gonna need to borrow El here for a minute!”

“Of course!” Anna giggled, standing up from the booth to clear a path out for me. “She’s all yours!”

Um… excuse me?

Don’t I get a say in this?

“Thank you!” he singsonged before snatching my hands in his and yanking me up out of the booth and onto my feet. “Come on, we’re up next!”

Up? Up where?

He started to turn but stopped, tapping a finger to his pursed lips. Then the smile was back with a vengeance as he picked up the Shiva and shoved it into my hand. “Lil liquid courage never hurt!” he gave a firm nod before taking my other hand in his once again and sprinting off, me doing my best not to spill the drink as I stumbled and tripped after him.

I had a bad feeling about this.

“Where are we going?” I called out as we weaved a path through the crush of people, ignoring the soft, weird buzz I was feeling where my fingers were interlaced with his.

Not breaking stride, he turned his head just enough to glance at me out of the corner of his gaze, eyes crinkled. “You’ll see.”

My bad feeling now had an added side of gut-wrenching dread thrown in on the house.

Particularly because I was pretty sure we were heading straight for the-

“Next up on the karaoke stage,” a female voice suddenly rang out over the speakers high above while the music coming from the jukebox faded away, “we have Elsa and Lea here to sing a duet for us! Please welcome them with a round of applause, everyone!”

The room erupted in cheers and clapping as we at last broke out of the dense crowd to find ourselves directly in front of the stage.

Aka my worst nightmare.

Well… at least at the moment.

My nightmares had a tendency to pass around the highly coveted and sought after “Worst” title, depending on which one was most pressing at any given second of the day.

There wasn’t that much to it. The stage was made of dark, polished hardwood with maroon, heavy velvet curtains hanging behind it to decorate the back wall. There were a couple of stands for the cordless mics accompanied by a lone barstool between them. And of course, the karaoke machine itself, front and center with a large screen on top of it for displaying the lyrics. As a whole, it was almost deceptively innocent looking in its simplicity.

But I knew better.

I’m on to you, you miniature torture chamber cleverly disguised as fun for the whole family.

“Surprise!” Lea beamed down at me. Then another tug at my arm and I was staggering to keep up once more as he brought me around to one side of the stage and up its stairs. I tried to put on the brakes, but my legs had turned to jelly, rendering them useless. Instead, it was all I could to stammer and splutter as he chipperly explained, “So as far as available songs go, it was slim pickings when it came to duets, nothing but cheesy love songs. But I think I picked the best one of the bunch, super energetic, should be loads of fun and-”

“No!” I at last managed to get out, jerking my hand free, whirling on my heel and marching back down those steps at warp speed.

He was quick to follow, grab me by my shoulders, spin me back around and guide me up again, still with that stupid grin in place. “Aw, c’mon! You asked me for ideas on new things for you to try! So here you go!”

“Who says I haven’t done this before?” I hissed, feet now scraping across the stage as he slid me along it.

Lea snerked through his nose. “I took a wild guess.”

“That was awfully presumptuous of you.”

“So what, you telling me you’ve sung karaoke?”

“No, but that doesn’t make you any less presumptuous!”

We came to a stop now next to the mics. He stepped in front of me and bent down to my eye level, his hands still firmly gripping my upper arms to keep me from bolting. “Come on, El! Do it for me! As a favor to a friend!”

I shot him a deadpan look. “Fun fact: we’re no longer friends.”

“Since when?”

“Since ten seconds ago when you dragged me up here against my will.”

“Pfft, you don’t mean that,” he finally released me, ruffling my bangs and rolling his eyes before stepping over to the mics, unblocking my field of vision. That’s when I saw it.

All.

Those.

People.

Watching. Murmuring. Waiting. I’d already known the bar was packed, but now, up here, sensing every single last one of those eyes on me, the place seemed to be all but bursting. There were just… just so many! I-

Wait, was the crowd shrinking? And not as is thinning out, but were the people actually getting... smaller?

“Oof!” I wheezed out a surprised grunt as my back collided with something.

Oh.

That’d explain it.

Apparently without me even realizing it, my feet had taken it upon themselves to back me away from the edge of the stage, away from the people and straight into the curtained wall behind me. My hand started groping about, looking for the edge of said curtain, latching on when I found it and sweeping it out for me to hide behind. Everything went dark.

I am stealth.

A ghost.

A ninja.

Sneakiness personified.

Unseeable, unknowable, and-

The curtain whipped away and I winced as light returned, revealing Lea standing before me. He laughed, “There you are!”

I squeaked, grabbed the curtains and yanked them in front of me once more.

Now where was I? Ah, that’s right… ahem! Unseeable, un-

The velvet curtain flew to the side once more and Lea hooked his hand in my elbow, pulling me out and back towards the karaoke machine. “Trust me, you’ll be fine!  You got nothing to worry about! I’ll be there the whole time, hamming it up and just in general making a big idiot outta myself, so no one's even gonna be looking at you. All you gotta do is stand there and sing your parts when they come up, 'kay? Song’s super short too, so it’ll be over before ya know it!”

My lips parted to tell him exactly where he could take his “super short song” and stick it, but was interrupted by the spotlights suddenly flicking on. One zeroed in on Lea, the other blasted me like a paralyzing ray and I just stood there, eyes wide and unblinking, mouth hanging open and alcoholic beverage still in hand.

Another wave of applause went up for us as Lea tossed me a mic. Frozen stiff, I made no move to catch it, instead just watching it dumbly as it arced up through the air before streaking straight down in front of me to clatter against the stage. He snorted, bent down to pick it up and put it in my free hand, pressing my numb fingers to close around it before he moved to stand in front of the other mic.

My breathing was shallow, my heart was a jackhammer and my feet no longer seemed to work, now just glued to this spot.

Oh god, was this really happening?

 That’s when the music started.

Apparently, yes. Yes it was.

The tune was led in by a quirky, rubbery bassline and a playful piano. Wait… I knew this song. Yeah, it was from a musical. The one full of leather jackets, summer lovin’ and grease lightning. Musicals were a good thing. Musicals were a thing I knew. Kind of a guilty pleasure of mine. Used to sing along with them all when I was little. It could actually be considered kind of pathetic, the sheer percentage of my brain that was still to this day crammed full of all the words to famous Broadway hits.

All that said though… it did absolute friggin’ zilch to calm me down.

“I got chills, they’re multiplying,” Lea started off, dipping his mic stand dangerously low and giving it a wide sweep around before straightening back up and removing the mic from the base. He was no Travolta, but his voice actually wasn’t half bad. “And I’m losing control,” he sang on, spinning on one foot once, twice, three times before abruptly stopping to point at me with a smirk, working some hip action. “Cuz the power you’re supplying… it’s electrifying!” His whole body spasmed from head to toe as he fell to his knees then full on faceplanted at my feet, causing me to jolt back a step.

 ...hamming it up? Please, more like going whole hog! Jeez!

My part was coming up in about five seconds. I could hardly hear the music anymore over the thundering of my heart or the hiss of breath hyperventilating in and out of my nose. That’s when it happened again.

Everyone and everything around me was suddenly in slo-mo.

Man, I really needed to get a handle over my powers of time control!

It was in this uncanny second of my wildly burgeoning mutant ability (ha, if only) that I spotted them. Rayne and Anna, in the front row of the crowd with big smiles to root me on. As I locked eyes with one then the other, my sister gave me an excited nod of encouragement while my roommate was mouthing something to me. Couldn’t be sure, but it looked suspiciously like the words ‘comfort zone.’

Then I looked down at my hand holding the Shiva.

...liquid courage, huh?

...fine. Let’s do this.

Nostrils flaring, I raised the drink to my mouth, knocking back several gulps before slamming the glass down on top of the barstool. Still shaking, I jerked the mic up to my lips, knuckles white around the handle. Like a dam bursting, the words started flooding out before I could even think them. “You better shape up,” oh gosh, was that a quiver I heard in my voice? My free hand down by my hip clenched tightly. “Cuz I need a man, and my heart is set on you.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Lea still flat on the floor but now propped up on his elbows and gawking at me. I looked away, heat flooding my face. Come on now, I know it’d been a while since I last sang so I was rusty, but I couldn’t be that bad. Stubbornness flaring, I took a deep breath and continued, words stronger now, “You better shape up! You better understand to my heart I must be true…”

“Nothing left, nothing left for me to do,” Lea came back in with a fierce grin as he scrambled up onto his feet. “You’re the one that I want!” we both sang the chorus as he landed to my right, doing the iconic dance from the scene in the movie, with a thumb hooked in the waist of his pants and swinging his hips to and fro. “Oo-oo-oo, honey, the one that I want!” In a shuffling side-gallop, he passed by in front of me to my other side and repeated the move. “Oo-oo-oo, honey, the one that I want!” Again with the side-gallop, this time behind me, and again with the little jig. I was biting back a smile. Well, at least he was true to his word… he really was making a big idiot out of himself. It was getting harder to stay mad at him. Harder… but not impossible. “Oo-oo-oo, the one I need, oh yes indeed!”

Lea now moved several steps over to his side of the stage, giving me room as the song shifted in preparation for the second verse that I was going to be starting off. I tensed, spine ramrod straight as I recalled what the next lines out of my mouth were going to be. Feeling my blush creeping all the way down to my toes, I wrung the mic in both my hands now as I stiffly brought it back up and squeezed my eyes shut. “If you’re feeling affection,” I wasn’t here, I wasn’t me, “you’re too shy to convey.” No, I was Olivia Newton-John at the school carnival, oozing confidence in a smoking, skin-tight outfit showing off her killer bod. “Meditate in my direction.” Oof, the next part. How did Olivia pull off that breathy purr? Maybe something like, “Feel your way.”

Harsh feedback screeched through the speakers, making my eyes snap back open. Apparently it had come from Lea’s mic, which he was clumsily fumbling to keep from dropping it. Now having it firmly back in grip, he brought it back up in time to croak out, “I better shape up!” He cleared his throat, banging a fist to his chest and now looking a little red in the face. I guess all that prancing around must have been catching up to him. “Cuz you need a man…”

“I need a man who can keep me satisfied,” I sang back, quirking an eyebrow at him.

Whatever his malfunction had been, he was now bouncing back, face brightening as he ran into a knee-slide, stretching a hand up towards me, “I better shape up if I’m gonna prove-”

“You better prove,” I rolled my eyes and shook my head at his antics, “that my faith is justified.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, hopping back up before my voice joined with his, “Yes, I’m sure deep down inside! You’re the one that I want!” The chorus started again and Lea grabbed my hand, catching me off guard and twirling me into a spin. “Oo-oo-oo, honey, the one that I want!” Now he pulled me up against him, flashing me a cheeky grin as one hand wrapped around my waist and the other took hold of mine, mic sandwiched between them. “Oo-oo-oo, honey, the one that I want!” Unable to resist any longer, a laugh bubbled out of me as he swept us around in circles in time with the upbeat music, bringing his mic up between our lips whenever we needed to sing the next line. “Oo-oo-oo, the one I need, oh yes indeed!”

The chorus repeated a couple more times, Lea continuing to dance us about the stage the whole time. Once when I was able to catch a glimpse out into the audience, I even spotted Rayne and Anna busting a move themselves on top of one of the tables, Riku on the ground frantically gesturing for his wife to get down. When the song finally started to fade, the room erupted in applause and whistles. Lea released my waist, but didn’t let go of my hand, instead tugging me towards the edge of the stage. There he raised my arm up high before he bent into a flourishing bow for the adoring fans, pulling me down into one as well. As we both straightened back up, a smile tugged at my lips and I breathed a sigh of relief as my heart rate finally began to calm down.

I’d done it. I’d actually sung in front of all those people and lived to tell the tale.  And oddly, I was even... almost kind of giddy about it? It couldn’t be that I’d actually enjoyed that? No. No way. That was just the adrenaline talking as it still coursed through my body which was finally getting to relax now that the danger had passed. I was just happy it was over with! Yeah, that’s all it was. It had to be.

As the bar quieted down once more, Lea returned the mics to their holders before jumping down off the front of the stage and pivoting around to smirk up at me, “Damn, El, why didn’t you tell me you were packing a gorgeous set o’ pipes on you?”

There that blush was again, creeping back up my neck. I gave a soft harrumph, “Stop, I do n-”

I was startled into silence as he picked me up by the waist, my hands hastily going to his shoulders as he lowered me down off the stage and deposited me on the floor beside him.

Okay… so that happened.

“I’m serious!” he pulled his hands back, planting them on his own hips as he hunched forward slightly. “You’re trying to figure out what to do with your life, right? Well, I think we hit a ringer here! Ever consider being a singer?”

I turned my back on him with a snort and walked away, heading towards our booth. “Oh, sure. I’ll just have to hire professional wranglers to drag me kicking and screaming up to the mic for every performance.”

“Oh, c’mon, it wasn’t that bad, was it?” he caught up and fell into step beside me. “You had fun and really got into it, I could tell!”

Only because Lea had been distracting me the whole time. “It doesn’t matter either way, only fools try to make a career out of singing. Do you know how hard it is for most people to make it big in the music industry?”

“Yeah, but most people don’t have a voice like yours.”

I groaned, “Please, can we just drop it?”

“Fine, fine, dropping it,” he raised his hands in surrender.  Then, “So… are we friends again?”

I side-eyed him, wrinkling my nose. “...probationally.”

One corner of his mouth twitched upward and he slipped his hands into his pockets. “I’ll take it! And hey, at least something good came outta our lil musical adventure.”

I gave him a questioning look, to which he grinned wider.

“I got to dance with you after all.” 

Author's Note: For those who don't know it, the song they sang is called "You're the One That I Want" from the musical "Grease" - a rather problematic musical at that (as I discovered from rewatching the movie while writing this chapter after not having seen the movie in over a decade) but I still love this song and you can pry it from my cold, dead hands xD Also I may or may not have watched 50 (thousand) youtube videos of couples singing this song at karaoke for IMPORTANT RESEARCH reasons before writing up this chapter. I must say, just simply writing the karaoke scene felt almost as mortifying as if I'd actually had to go up on stage and physically sing the damn song myself! I don't normally write songs lyric for lyric in my stories, but I just figured with what an anxious bundle of nerves Elsa is in this story, it was kind of important not to just gloss over and hand-wavy the karaoke. So yeah, I don't usually write singing scenes, but hopefully this one turned out halfway okay? Anyhoo, on another note, Elsa is a lot better at this whole holding-a-conversation thing than she gives herself credit for… once she gets over her crippling anxiety at the very idea of stringing more than two words together! And lastly, I found a way to give Lea both his names in this fic, woooooooo!

Next chapter, this thrilling night out continues! What further adventures in Friday night drinks await our hermit heroine? Is a career in singing ACTUALLY on the table for consideration or will it forever remain a pipe dream? Will Elsa ever perfect her ninja skills, which seriously leave something to be desired currently? Stay tuned!

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you hit that like button last chapter, seeing that always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

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[uzuuzuking]

so this started out as just a general post about why i like cinderella adaptations, but slowly spiraled into a ranking/review of all the cinderella adaptations i’ve seen in my short, young life. so strap in for possibly the longest post i’ve ever made on this blog. (look, i never know how much i have to say about something until i really get going lmao)

idk why i like cinderella adaptations/remakes/spinoffs so much? most of them are garbage (especially the ones within the last 10 years don’t @ me) but fuck it i like this brand of garbage. it’s fun to watch these movies and rework the bad plotlines and dialogue in my head as i go along.

i guess i like the source material and some of the aspects of all the different adaptations, but honestly i just like re-imagining them because there’s only so much cringey script-written-for-teens-but-clearly-written-by-40-year-old-adults-who-have-no-idea-how-teens-or-even-people-for-that-matter-actually-talk-and-interact i can take in one excruciating sitting.

anyway here’s my personal ranking of all the cinderella adaptations i’ve seen that no one asked for. (not including stage productions because i haven’t seen any and have no opinion of them. also not including into the woods because that’s not just cinderella, but a spectacular amalgamation of fairytale mishap and shenanigan.) and reviews because apparently i had more to say than i originally thought when i first started constructing this list:

cinderella (1997) - the absolute best cinderella adaptation of all time, hands down, this is non-negotiable. this movie has it all: an excellent and diverse cast, gorgeous costume design, beautiful sets, some of the most dazzling dance numbers i ever witnessed when i first watched it at the wee age of 4, and a positive, progressive message that was accurate for its time yet also so ahead of its time. i cannot praise this version of cinderella enough, it is my all time favorite and one of my top 3 feel-good movies. if you watched it today, the effects might not be as magical compared to what we have now, but keep in mind it was released in 1997. anyway, the cast is truly amazing and so effortlessly inclusive (and honestly the fact that the prince was asian with a black mother and white father and they literally never addressed it was such a power move). i could go on about this movie forever (i’ll probably make a whole post dedicated to it in the future) and what it meant to me and many others as young, impressionable poc. in conclusion, this movie set an exceedingly high standard for me and destroyed the chances of any other cinderella adaptation even hoping to live up to that. i love it! so! much!

ever after: a cinderella story (1998) - tbh i never saw this until i was in college but i immediately fell in love. i love the flow of the story as a whole - i never felt like anything was missing. i love the costumes and i especially love how danielle and henry’s relationship progressed throughout the film. slow-burn comes to mind when i watch their interactions and we all love a sweet, sweet slow-burn. it’s romance babes! it’s Dramatic in a few scenes and all i can say is that it really works because drew barrymore’s performance is exceptional, fantastic, engaging, more adjectives to describe how enthralled by her i was. above all, her character is compassionate - she uses her voice to speak in support for those who are suppressed by the flawed government systems and law enforcers, and influences the prince to use his status and power to better his people who lack the privileges of the nobility. she’s such a strong female lead (emotionally and physically - she literally fireman carries her love interest, who is taller than her and definitely exceeds her own bodyweight) and truly the mvp of this adaptation. watch it. watch it for Her.

enchanted (2007) - amy adams and idina menzel - ‘nuff said. okay but for real this one is so unique with its transition from classic d*sney 2D animation style to the real three-dimensional world and i adore it to the ends of the earth. the music? slaps! the story? slaps! the development of the main character? slaps!! she’s so princess-y and d*sney cartoon-y and struggles in the real world, but she adapts at a good pace and i love that she learns to be realistic while also keeping hope and love close to her heart. also her mother figure / daughter figure bond with morgan is so so precious. the only constructive criticism i have for this movie is the fact that we were robbed of idina menzel singing!!! did they know all along she was destined to play the frozen queen years in the future and decided against her singing in this one?? is that it? ridiculous. it’s been over a decade and i’m still seething over this. other than that this movie is *chef’s kiss*

ella enchanted (2004) - anne hathaway’s back must still be hurting from carrying this film. (no shade to the other cast members, they’re good, but anne is a queen and i forever love her.) this is another childhood favorite of mine. the story itself is a refreshing take - hats off to gail carson levine for the source material! i’ve talked about the differences between the movie and book before in the midst of my reread of the book a few months ago, but i don’t remember how much i focused on the movie. it’s so different from the book that it might as well be its own thing. on its own, the movie is pretty decent! again, mostly because of anne. it’s funny, it’s sad (especially that scene towards the beginning between ella and areida, i’m in stupid tears every time), and it gets weird but it’s a fun time. the chemistry between char and ella is so zesty i can feel it through the screen, i swoon over both of them. tbh i probably wouldn’t like this movie so much if not for the fact that anne hathaway is truly talented and i spend most of my time watching it just looking at her. 

cinderella 3: a twist in time (2007) - i genuinely enjoyed and appreciated how the characters were written in this one. they all had clear motives and became much more dynamic through their lines and actions (drizella is arguably the most static character here but she still amuses me so it’s fine i guess). cinderella has more agency since the stakes are higher. prince charming actually has a gotdamn personality and has some of the funniest scenes and dialogue. good for him. i was kind of sad that anastasia’s story with the sweet baker boy was thanos snapped by the stepmother, but she and baker boy get a cute credits illustration together so it’s still canon! maybe i’m more biased on this one because i grew up rewatching it A Lot, but i definitely prefer it to the first and second movies.

cinderella (2000) - this one is kind of weird but i like it? the film has a really interesting vibe that i’m still trying to figure out how to describe even after seeing it like 5 times. wikipedia refers to the aesthetic style as “the glamour of the 1950s” which just might be as close as we can get. it follows the general guidelines of the cinderella plot, but the main differences were: zezolla (cinderella) was already helping with the chores before her father remarried, claudette (stepmother) was actively trying to murder zezolla’s father during their marriage, the stepsisters were much more violent and crass (they hunted zezolla’s beloved farm animals for sport and talked about getting “a man in [their] bed”), zezolla’s father was manipulated by everything claudette did and said and treated his own daughter poorly as a result, and prince valiant is honestly kind of a douchebag but seems willing to improve himself after meeting zezolla (basically his vibes are iffy but he’s willing to learn). this whole movie is pretty niche and i have yet to interact with someone who’s also seen it. and the only reason i’ve seen it so many times is because i just like listening to how the dialogue is delivered. (except for prince valiant’s random song at the ball, i kind of hated that and i skip through it every time lol).

a cinderella story (2004) - the classic hilary duff version. very cliche early 2000s high school romance, but it works for the cinderella narrative. not particularly diverse. a classic nonetheless. in my mind this is the pinnacle of the “modern cinderella movie” type. this is one of the most iconic movies for us zillennials and i’d like to think it’s known well enough for me to not go into a lot of detail about it. basically it was fresh and new for its time, had plenty of memorable scenes, and did i mention hilary duff? the film kind of plays into the “not like other girls” trope - as do a couple of the movies i listed above - but i’m just going to acknowledge that the early 2000s were Wack and simply move on. all in all, i like this movie for the nostalgia, iconic scenes, and hilary duff. also jennifer coolidge is pretty funny as the stepmother.

another cinderella story (2008) - again, an early 2000s classic, but this time with selena gomez. i liked the dancing in this one. i like selena’s quiet, somewhat timid characterization of her character, mary. and jane lynch in the stepmother role is perfection. she’s so fun to watch and is always hilarious. the story is nothing remarkable, but it’s okay and i liked it as a kid. after the hilary duff version, this one still managed to feel fresh because, though it was similar in its modern era approach, it focused more on the performing arts and dance. “cinderella” is an aspiring dancer, rather than the 2004 aspiring scholar. the “prince” is a famous popstar, not a football player. the stepmother is an outdated popstar desperate to stay Hip and Relevant with the kids, not a cranky botox lady. honestly i just love watching this one for the dancing, mary’s genuine and innocent love for the “prince”, and literally everything that comes out of jane lynch’s mouth. that woman is a dialogue gold mine.

a cinderella story: once upon a song (2011) - lucy hale is good. missi pyle is good. they play their roles and lines that they’re given fairly well. over all, it’s entertaining. lucy, of course, has them Pipes and i do like the songs in this movie. the only major downside for me was the “token best friend of color” trope. lucy’s best friend is an asian girl who’s good at sports and is there for one liners and support. the prince charming character’s best friend is a black guy who he only knew for probably a month at the most. he can beatbox, sing, and dj. basically he’s also just there as support. they really don’t do much for the plot but they’re there for diversity and whatnot. this movie is.. fine.

cinderella (1950) - the only reason this ranks so low for me is because i watched it a lot as a child when it was on vhs and it always felt like a fever dream to me. i was just really young and didn’t feel invested in any of the characters. it is a classic, though, and i would watch it again and be able to enjoy it.

cinderella 2: dreams come true (2002) - i liked cinderella’s and anastasia’s stories from this one. jaq’s was meh. it was fine.

dj cinderella or cinderella pop (2019) - netflix knows i like cinderella adaptations so, naturally, they shoved this into my recommended and, naturally, i watched it. twice. which is more than i can say for the following review... so this movie is brazillian and is pretty much the cut & mold of modern cinderella movies. but she wants to be a dj. she stars out living a perfect life as a wealthy girl with a loving family, but turns out her dad is cheating on her mom with his secretary. that’s when she “stops believing in love”. which is actually valid bc if i saw one of my parental figures cheating on the other, i honestly wouldn’t know what to believe in anymore. anyway, cíntia dorella (yes. that’s her full name.) and her mom move into her aunt’s place. a year or so passes. stepmother/secretary/cheating lady is throwing an extravagant birthday party for her daughters and hires freddy prince, a popular musician who cíntia doesn’t really like. meanwhile, cíntia gets a dj gig she’s excited for until she finds out she’s the opener for freddy prince at her stepsisters’ party. she ends up disguising herself as “dj cinderella” and freddy is super into her. it’s pretty generic from there but i was entertained enough to watch it twice. take from that what you will.

cinderella (2015) - ok so we been knew that d*sney’s live action remakes ain’t shit, and this one is no exception. d*sney within the last few years has been like 99% aesthetics and marketing. this movie was visually stunning, especially with the settings and costumes. those were the only 2 things i truly liked. everything else was forgettable. in its defense, i did read a post about the “have courage and be kind” message which is something wonderful to hold onto, especially for anyone in an abusive situation like ella. that’s valid and i respect that. i still lowkey hate this movie tho. i started getting a headache about 4 reviews ago, but remembering how much praise this movie got has reignited my fighting spirit. honestly if you like it, that’s good, you like what you like and that’s that. but this is my review and i hated how proper ella’s posture was (she’s been doing physical labor hunched on the floor for years now, how does she not slump around in exhaustion at the end of the day??), i hated how perfectly curated the whole thing was (again, that’s mostly because of d*sney and their aesthetics), and i hated how hollow everything felt. i can’t perfectly describe it, but i never felt emotionally invested in any of the characters. something about their performance was lacking and yet again i blame d*sney. i actually really like lily james, but something about the way she was directed left me devoid of emotional attachment to ella. i remember nothing about ella’s step family or the prince. that’s how much of an impact this adaptation had on me. also i just remembered the fairy godmother as i type this. i ADORE helena bonham carter, but this movie does a horrible disservice to her. if she liked working on this movie, then i’m happy for her, but even she wasn’t strong enough to sell this to me. i saw this movie in theaters and came out of it lamenting my waste of money that i could have spent on something i would have actually enjoyed. but the thing that enraged me the most, the thing i despised, i detested, the thing i seethed over and rant about to this day was the ONE (1) token black character. i don’t even know if he had a name but he was captain of the guard or some shit. if i remember correctly (but probably not tbh this movie was so forgettable), he was the one who heard ella singing and was the whole reason the prince was able to have her try on the glass slipper. this man, who had zero character development, zero relevance to the plot, an insignificant amount of screen time, is suddenly the reason the main character is able to finally connect with her love interest. um. What. i hate how the writers treated him and i will forever be filled with every last grain of salt over this. anyway he’s my favorite character and everyone else is just eh. to conclude this ungodly long review, i don’t like this movie. i tried to watch it again once but got so bored i quit 10 minutes in. do yourself a favor and watch cinderella (1997) instead. (the only reason this movie is ranked above the remaining 5 is the production quality. but i guess that’s unfair bc d*sney has the big bucks. and maybe i wouldn’t be so harsh if i weren’t sleep deprived and grumpy from a sugar-induced headache, but these feelings still come from my Chest so idk.)

a cinderella story: a christmas wish (2019) - i think we all secretly enjoy christmas-themed movies and this has got to be someone’s guilty pleasure. i was mildly entertained (but again with the cringey dialogue written by people clearly not in high school...) and i do like laura marano. but they autotuned her to hell and back - which i loathed - because the woman can actually sing and she has a lovely voice. she got to sing candidly one (1) time and i relished the experience. my ears thank her beautiful, un-autotuned voice. other than that it was.. fine. i didn’t hate it but i didn’t like it either. laura marano deserves better than this. (can’t say the same for the other actors tho because their roles were unmemorable.) also laura marano was super cute in her elf costume!

not cinderella’s type (2018) - i legit forgot about this one until after i compiled the entire list lol. i saw it on youtube and it was decent as far as i remember. it’s another modern day cinderella. i think the “prince” runs over “cinderella’s” cat or something?? i’m pretty sure it was her mom’s cat so now she has nothing left to remember her mom by. prince boy feels awful and tries to befriend her or do something to make it up to her, but she just doesn’t really like him. i think her aunt and uncle are emotionally abusive to her and prince boy does his best to be there for her without making things worse. if i remember correctly, i liked that aspect of the movie because it’s hard to be there for a victim of any kind of abuse if trying to help them could potentially hurt them more, especially minors still under the care of abusive guardians. anyway i think cinderella girl’s best friend is in love with her or something but she ends up not being into him and slowly gets together with prince boy. she eventually moves out of her guardians’ house and into the spare house at prince boy’s home (he’s rich or something). i need to rewatch this movie tbh i could be wrong about everything here lol.

rags (2012) - not amazing, definitely not memorable because i have nothing to say about its plot or writing, but it has keke palmer which is its one redeeming quality. also it’s the only one on this list where the male protagonist is the cinderella. so that’s solid i guess.

a cinderella story: if the shoe fits (2016) - this was a movie. it happened. i vaguely remember how ridiculous it was and sometimes i felt secondhand embarrassment. i don’t remember what about specifically, but i remember the emotion. sofia carson is a talented singer. i think she’s a decent actor but this script was Bad.

elle: a modern cinderella tale (2010) - i only watched this one because i was bored out of my damn mind and saw it on youtube. i felt bad for all the actors because this script was terrible. i don’t recommend this unless you’re about to sit down with your squad and make fun of it.

apparently descendants is on the “cinderella adaptations and references” list on imdb but i refuse to put it on my list because it’s not a cinderella-specific adaptation and i don’t like the descendants franchise. now, if we’re going to discuss a quality series about the children of fairytale characters, that would hands down be ever after high. but that’s a different topic for a different day.

thus concludes the ranking no one asked for but i felt compelled to make. thank you and goodnight

[broken-clover]

Dust Strikers Story Mode 1/4

I haven’t seen too many resources available when it comes to Guilty Gear: Dust Strikers, a DS-only sidegame released in 2006. While I will agree that the gameplay and story did leave a bit to be desired, I still get a decent bit of fun out of it as the only GG game I own that I can play at college. I wound up going through all 20 story modes for the purpose of jotting down all the game dialogue, in case anybody needed it for reference for whatever reason and didn’t have a copy of the game. I’m gonna upload this in chunks for the sake of space.

Part 1 (Sol, Ky, May, Millia, Axl), Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Dialogue for some scenes is repeated. I tried my best to keep this more or less lifted right from the game, though I did make a few edits just for grammar’s sake because this game isn’t very well edited. I did not try to change any conversations just for the sake of it.

Sol:...Whew... Jam: How rude. What's your problem? Faust: Is there something wrong? Sol: A doctor and a chef? This is a big joke. Quit following me wherever I go. Go back to your real jobs, man! Faust: This is what it takes to master the tricks of the trade. It's necessary to learn to see things from the patient's perspective. Jame: The art of cooking is also a quest. You're not gonna find anything new just by sitting around. Venom: Then I should get to know a wider variety of opponents. Let's roll! Sol: Move it. Just go to bed!

Bridget: Whoah, everybody looks tough Chipp: Hey! what's a kid doing here? Eddie: A child. Attractive in terms of her youthfulness but too immature to become my host Bridget: You're not taking me seriously? Then let me show you my moves Sol:...back off. Don't be wasting my time Eddie: Interesting. I shall keep a record of the battle results for future reference Bridget: Don't be surprised! Here I come! Sol: What am I, a babysitter? I can't deal with this...

Slayer: This is quite an unusual combination Sol: I'm starting to get tired of your face Testament: Different being. What do you want? Slayer: Nope. Nothing in particular. Just happened to pass by. Testament: Then please go away Dizzy: Oh, you're Mr. Slayer, aren't you? Please excuse Testament's words. He doesn't mean any harm. Slayer: I'm not bothered by it. Don't worry. But this is quite interesting. Sol: So what the hell is your point? Slayer: Those who have veered off the path. I guess the same must be said of me. Testament: What are you insinuating? You better have a good explanation Slayer: My apologies if I offended you. I'm just genuinely interested in your powers Sol: You using us to kill your boredom? I think it's time you hung em up.

Anji: Finally found you. Sol:...It's you again. Anji: Let me ask you straight out. Do you have any idea where 'he' is? Sol: So what if I know? Anji: Can you tell me where he is? Of course I'm willing to work for it. You and I have a bout, and if I win, you tell me. Sounds fair? Baiken: Wait! Let me in on the festivities Sol: Sorry, not interested. You guys enjoy each other's company Anji: Even Justice feared my powers...Still not interested? Sol:...! Baiken: Shut your trap! You're starting to get on my nerves. I'll kick all of your butts right now! Axl: Whoa!...Damn it...is this a bad time? Baiken: Eavesdropping, are we? I'm not impressed! Axl: I just wanted to ask chief something Sol: And even you. Why does everyone want to stick their noses in other people's business! Axl: No worries, chief! Just a quick bout, no hard feelings! Sol: I'm not responsible for what happens.

I-no: You're late. You shouldn't make ladies wait like that. Sol: shut up. What are you wandering around for? Johnny: Hey, what a coincidence. Didn't expect to run into you here....guess yu're busy with a woman Sol: You stay out of it I-no: Ooh, another cute guy Ky: All of you! Freeze right there! I-no: and now a cute boy, too. Ky: Sol..! And Johnny the pirate, and you're..! I-no: I'd stay out of it if I were you. Why don't you just go home to mommy? Sol: That's enough chit chatting. Let's let the fists do the talking! Ky: ...Sol! I-no: The violent guy as always. Sure, why not...I'll cut you all up into pieces! Ky: I guess there's no alternative. Holy Knight combat was initially meant for handling multiple enemies. I'll show you what it's all about!

Sol: Finally we meet... Gig: Grrr... Sol: I'm here to figure you out. Gig: Grrrgh! Sol:...Too late, I guess. Then die.

Gig: Grr...grr... Sol: Don't bother. It's over Gig: Grr.... Sol:...I'll make sure we get even for your sake. I guarantee you we'll find the dirt bag...

Ky

Jam: Ayah! Who's this cute guy? Ky: You must be...that chef, Ms. Jam Kuradoberi. Jam: That's right! You remembered me! I'm so happy! Ky: I'm glad to see you're doing well. May: Wahts...oops! Oh no! Ky: You must be May, the pirate May: Are you going after Johnny? You'll have to get by me first. Ky: Please, put your guard down. I'm not after pirates right now. Testament: So you're out bounty-hunting then. Probably after me then, aren't you? Jam: Ooh, you're quite the hottie too. Wanna work at my restaurant? Testament: Stop talking nonsense... May: It's two hot guys...but Johnny's way hotter than both of you!

Zappa: Hey! Miss! Millia:...Yes? Zappa: If it's possible, can you be my wi... Millia:... Zappa: Actually, never mind... Axl: Dude, let me show you how it's done. Hey, you in the beautiful blond hair! Let me buy you a cup of coffee so I can see which glows brighter, your hair or your eyes. Millia:...Um, I'm in a hurry. Ky: You're Millia, the former assassin. If you're not with the guild anymore, leave the rest to the police force. No need to put yourself in danger. Millia: I'll take care of him. It's none of your business. Ky: But no, we have to... Zappa: What's all this talk about? Even the police are here. Maybe I should get outta...NO!...Happiness. Hatred! Hatred! Millia: Why don't I ever have luck with men?

Faust: Traveling lady with the scent of blood. Where are you headed? Baiken: Get lost, you lame doc. It's none of your business. I can kill whoever I want. Chipp: Woman enduring countless bloodshed. So you're that Japanese beauty? Ky: There's nothing but anger inside you. As a protector of public safety, I can't let such hateful words pass Baiken: Kid, if you don't wanna get hurt, you should just keep your mouth shut Ky: I have confidence in my sword. Not exactly my favorite option, but in this case I have no choice Faust: What you need is some time off in total peaceful serenity. As a physician, it is my obligation to make sure that you are cured.

Anji: You must be Ky Kiske, former leader of the Sacred Order of Holy Knights Ky: Yes, that would be me. And who are you? Anji: Last name is Mito, first name is Anji. I'm just a journeyman Ky: So what can I help you with? Anji: I'd like to challenge you to a match. I wanted to see firsthand the skills of a top-class warrior like yourself. Ky: I can tell from your presence that you're not an ordinary foe. Asian martial arts? Interesting. I accept your challenge. Slayer: In that case, count me in too. Fighting for the sake of fighting. To me fighting is life's best form of entertainment. Don't you think? Potemkin: I myself haven’t had any worthy opponents recently. Sure, I'll take you on. Ky: This is getting interesting. It's been a while for me too. Bring it on!

I-no: You're late. You shouldn't make ladies wait like that. Sol: shut up. What are you wandering around for? Johnny: Hey, what a coincidence. Didn't expect to run into you here....guess you're busy with a woman. Sol: You stay out of it. I-no: Ooh, another cute guy. Ky: All of you! Freeze right there! I-no: and now a cute boy, too. Ky: Sol..! And Johnny the pirate, and you're..! I-no: I'd stay out of it if I were you. Why don't you just go home to mommy? Sol: That's enough chit chatting. Let's let the fists do the talking! Ky: ...Sol! I-no: The violent guy as always. Sure, why not...I'll cut you all up into pieces! Ky: I guess there's no alternative. Holy Knight combat was initially meant for handling multiple enemies. I'll show you what it's all about!

Ky: What overpowering energy! Gig: Grr... Ky: You telling me this used to be a man? Gig: Grrrgh! Ky: Damn! I have no other choice...

Gig: Grr...grr... Ky: Barely managed to hang on... Gig: Ghhh... Ky: It looks like his losing control of reason has maximized his powers to infinite levels... Gig: Grr.... Ky: ...Pease, rest in peace I-no: Good job for a young boy like you. Ky:! I-no: I can probably kill you easily now...but that wouldn't be fun. So I'll let you go. Ky: You tell the man who created Gears, that he will pay for his crimes! I-no: You don't stand a chance! Why don't you look at yourself in the mirror before you speak? But I'll let him know anyway. Seeya! Ky: ...hate to admit it, but I'm not strong enough yet...but I will eventually rise over the true Gear powers.

May

May: I've got the chills. Faust: Perhaps you have a cold. Here, let me take a look. May: Don't come near me! Faust: What's the problem? May: These vibes...I'm positive! You're...you're bald, aren't you! Venom: You must be Faust, the Dark Doctor. Or should I call you doctor- Faust: Stop it. I don't use that name anymore. Venom:...Excuse me for being disrespectful. Doctor, I'd like you to accompany me. Faust: I'm sorry, my job is to save lives. I don't know if I can be of much help to you and your comrades. May: Look at all that hair...I guess it's not as bad as being bald...doesn't it get in the way? Venom: Let's put your limitations into perspective, then. You'll realize there are only so many lives you can save! May: Who, me? Zappa: KILL! KILL! Let me kill! May: What's with all these weirdos? I'm fighting for real, then!

Chipp: Please, I'm begging you! Baiken: Geez, what is your problem? Chipp: Make me Japanese! Even samurai give mercy, don't they? Baiken: No samurai here. Not a chance, buddy. Be a big boy and get over it, willya? Anji: Hey, what are you doing here? Chipp: You'll do! Please, tell me how to become Japanese! Anji: There's no way in hell, man. Be content being the 'president' Chipp: NO! I wanna become the president, become a Japanese, surpass master's ninjutsu abilities and take revenge! May: You guys arguing over something? Chipp: Damn...what are you doing here? Anji: Yup. A 'Japanese' May: Japa...what? Why're you crying sir? Something wrong? Did I do something wrong? Chipp: I will reach the top! You watch me, master! May: Wow, you scared me! You know I'm tough when I'm mad!

Jam: Ayah! Who's this cute guy? Ky: You must be...that chef, Ms. Jam Kuradoberi. Jam: That's right! You remembered me! I'm so happy! Ky: I'm glad to see you're doing well. May: Whats...oops! Oh no! Ky: You must be May, the pirate May: Are you going after Johnny? You'll have to get by me first. Ky: Please, put your guard down. I'm not after pirates right now. Testament: So you're out bounty-hunting then. Probably after me then, aren't you? Jam: Ooh, you're quite the hottie too. Wanna work at my restaurant? Testament: Stop talking nonsense... May: It's two hot guys...but Johnny's way hotter than both of you!

May: Wow! Look how big you are! Potemkin: And so are you. May: Hey! That's not very nice! Potemkin: No, I just thought you grew a little compared to the last time I saw you May: Well thanks fr the compliment. Think I'm good enough for Johnny now? Eddie: Having a host in her growth spurt...might not be a bad idea. Johnny: Out of the way, May! Potemkin: Humph! May:...Thanks Johnny: Thanks. I owe you one. Eddie: How dare you... May: Now it's my turn! I'll prove it to you that a girl in love is unbeatable!

Millia: Long time no see...Honey, you look very different. Dizzy: It's all thanks to May, and all of my great friends. May: Hee hee. Stop, you're embarrassing me Dizzy...everyone loves you only because you're a good person, that's all. Bridget: Yes, I think so too. To think that there used to be a bounty on her is weird when you think about it now. Millia: Treasure that happiness you have. And don't turn out like me. May: Why don't you join Jellyfish too? I'm sure Johnny will welcome you. Not to mention you're beautiful. I'm a bit jealous...don'f forget though, Johnny is mine! Millia:...thanks. But I think I'll take a pass. I have some unfinished business. Plus...actually, never mind. I think I better go now. Okay, let me through.

May: Phew. Finally here. Gig: Grr.... May: Wow!...No worries. I'm not freaked out. Johnny always tells me I should lend a helping hand to those in need. Come with me, my friend. Gig: Grrrgh! May: What! Whoa!

Gig: Grr...grr... May:...Why? I didn't want to do this to you. Gig: Grr... May: I'm so sorry...

Dizzy: May! May: Dizzy...I couldn't do it...Couldn't help him like Johnny would. I just wish we could've been friends. Dizzy:...I think you did the right thing... May: Whatdya mean? Dizzy: Look at that peaceful face. Thanks to you, he's finally free from long suffering. May:... Dizzy: Let's go back. Everyone's waiting. May:...uh, all right (...rest in peace, my friend...and good night)

Millia

Zappa: Hey! Miss! Millia:...Yes? Zappa: If it's possible, can you be my wi... Millia:... Zappa: Actually, never mind... Axl: Dude, let me show you how it's done. Hey, you in the beautiful blond hair! Let me buy you a cup of coffee so I can see which glows brighter, your hair or your eyes. Millia:...Um, I'm in a hurry. Ky: You're Millia, the former assassin. If you're not with the guild anymore, leave the rest to the police force. No need to put yourself in danger. Millia: I'll take care of him. It's none of your business. Ky: But no, we have to... Zappa: What's all this talk about? Even the police are here. Maybe I should get outta...NO!...Happiness. Hatred! Hatred! Millia: Why don't I ever have luck with men?

I-no: What do we have here, the desperate bachelorettes council? Baiken: What kind of greeting is that? That's not a very nice thing to say Jam: That's right! You're rude! And what about you? I-no: Oh dear, don't be so uptight. It's just a joke, honey. Or were you offended 'cause I was right on the mark? Millia: You're a joke. Why don't you get outta here. I-no: Oh no. I'm scared. I guess this is how women become as they get older. Baiken: You crazy! I'll cut you up into pieces! Jam: I'm not showing you any mercy either! Millia: If you're not gonna get outta here, we'll have to get rid of you. It's as simple as that. I-no: You're such sweethearts. Very well, I make you cry lots. We'll find out how loud you can cry.

Millia: Long time no see...Honey, you look very different. Dizzy: It's all thanks to May, and all of my great friends. May: Hee hee. Stop, you're embarrassing me Dizzy...everyone loves you only because you're a good person, that's all. Bridget: Yes, I think so too. To think that there used to be a bounty on her is weird when you think about it now. Millia: Treasure that happiness you have. And don't turn out like me. May: Why don't you join Jellyfish too? I'm sure Johnny will welcome you. Not to mention you're beautiful. I'm a bit jealous...don'f forget though, Johnny is mine! Millia:...thanks. But I think I'll take a pass. I have some unfinished business. Plus...actually, never mind. I think I better go now. Okay, let me through.

Testament:...Long time no see. Millia: That's a first. You coming up to me to say hi. Things have changed, haven't they? Testament: You're still caught up in the past and changing the thorny path. Millia:...it's none of your business. Move out of the way, will you? Testament: I don't have a problem, but... Millia:... Testament: You seem hesitant. With such mixed feelings, it may cost you your life. Millia:!!! I must have lost my edge, to be getting advice from you. Potemkin: What he's saying is on the money. Those with swaying motivation never fight to their full potential. Please excuse my eavesdropping. Anji: Just happened to pass by. Millia: Then I guess I'll have to eliminate all doubts before I get to him. I'll need your cooperation for that.

Millia: So...we meet again...Zato. Eddie: So you still haven't gotten over him? Millia: Shut up, you damn beast...I'm talking to him, not you! Eddie: What do you want to talk to ME about? Millia: I'm taking you down. I'm sick and tired of looking at your pathetic, bony remains. Venom: Not so fast...! Master Zato is regarded as the crown-jewel of the guild. You'll have to hand him over to me...! Slayer: I've told you the Guild is no more. No raison d'etre and no purpose. Continued existence will only bring further regret and despair. Venom: Oldtimers can keep their mouth shut. The guild no longer belongs to you. Millia: It has nothing to do with me anymore, I don't care what happens to it. I just want to take care of this guy with my very own hands. Eddie: Do you think it will be that easy? What do "I" think?"...Not so easy, "I" say. Venom: I sense you...Master Zato. I am going to free you, Master, from the evil spell of death! Eddie: Ha ha...this is great! Lowly humans who cannot accept death. That's the right evil spirit to have! Slayer: I'm the one who started all of this. I must atone for my past deeds. Fine, let us put an end to it all.

Millia: You look very much like him. Gig: Grr... Millia:You resemble him...and you resemble me. Gig: Grrrgh! Millia:...All right. I'll let you rest.

Gig: Grr...grr... Millia:...good night. It's all over now. For you, and for me. Gig: Grr... Millia:...may your soul rest in peace

Millia: (Have I been watching my own future? Is this what you wanted to tell me? Zato...)

Axl

Axl: Hey, what's that you're holding? I didn't know you had those toys, even in this day and age. Bridget: This is not a toy! It's a tool of my trade! Axl: Ouch! I'm sorry! What have we here? Playing pool at a place like this? Venom: How dare you insult my combat style. I say you deserve a beating. Axl: Hang on a sec! Something wrong with this era. Every toy's being used as a weapon. So what do people actually play with? Johnny: The best for of entertainment, I'd say is the thrill and romance of playing with fireworks at night. I'm pretty sure that's the consensus. Axl: You know what you're talking about! I'm actually great with fire myself...here we go!

Chipp: Hey! I have a question. Axl: Hi there, you look very hot. I-no: You talking about me? Axl: Of course! Who else would it be? Great body, silky smooth hair, you're electrifying! I-no: You're very good with words. Let me ask you then. Who's hotter? That woman or me? Chipp: Hey, listen up! Millia:...don't bother me. Chipp: !...you used to be in the guild! Millia: Yes, but that was a long while ago. Now I'm in the same boat as you. Axl: Ah man, this is a tough one. They're both really hot. Chipp: I'm taking down the guild! You women stay out of it! Millia: That I cannot do. Just like you, I can't pull out. Axl: This is a tough decision... Millia: And...quit staring at me with that perverted look on your face! Axl: Oops, I think I got her mad at me.

Potemkin: You youngster there. I see you have some talent. How about testing some of that talent on my fists? Axl: Man, you've got a nice build. But what do you have to gain? Plus, are you sure you can handle me? Potemkin: I wouldn't underestimate me. My drive for freedom locked inside my heart is my greatest weapon. Axl: Cool. I love peace and freedom too. But you might get out of breath when you're so stiff all the time. Ky: So you're fighting in the name of peace and freedom. Perhaps I might come up with answers for myself too. Excuse me, I'd like in as well. Jam: Just drive won't take you anywhere. There's no victory for those who can't face reality. I'll prove it to you right now!

Faust: This is an interesting symptom. I see, it's a cause and effect cycle. Axl: You, I never asked you to check up on me! Even though it's true that I've been through a lot, I've never had any doubts about my body. Faust: Oh, is that right? If there aren't any cures, that may very well be the best treatment. Axl: I'm more concerned about your body. Looks a little mysterious. Faust: Not to worry. It's all functional Slayer: Irregulars with an added spice that changes the world of men. Axl: You talking about us? Slayer: It's because of people like you that makes humans interesting. Even though you're blessed with great powers, it's normal to you. Very typical of how humans behave. Axl: It'll stress you out if you think so deeply. Zappa: Hahahahaha! Slayer: Look. Yet another fellow favored by the goddess of fortune. Axl: I do like women but I'm not sure about the goddess. Slayer: It must be the uncertainty factor that led you into running into me Axl: C'mon, let's just have fun...I thought this was supposed to be a party!

Anji: Finally found you. Sol:...It's you again. Anji: Let me ask you straight out. Do you have any idea where 'he' is? Sol: So what if I know? Anji: Can you tell me where he is? Of course I'm willing to work for it. You and I have a bout, and if I win, you tell me. Sounds fair? Baiken: Wait! Let me in on the festivities Sol: Sorry, not interested. You guys enjoy each other's company Anji: Even Justice feared my powers...Still not interested? Sol:...! Baiken: Shut your trap! You're starting to get on my nerves. I'll kick all of your butts right now! Axl: Whoa!...Damn it...is this a bad time? Baiken: Eavesdropping, are we? I'm not impressed! Axl: I just wanted to ask chief something Sol: And even you. Why does everyone want to stick their noses in other people's business! Axl: No worries, chief! Just a quick bout, no hard feelings! Sol: I'm not responsible for what happens.

Axl: Huh? You can still speak? Gig: Grr... Axl: Man, what am I gonna do? Gig: Grrgh! Axl: Sorry dude, it's not my time yet.

Gig: Grr....grr... Axl: Phew! Hey, man. Haven't you had enough? Gig: Grr... Axl: I think that should be enough....what? This sensation!!! That Man: It is not yet the time for you to find out the truth. When the time comes you will find out. Whether you like it or not! Axl: Who are you? That Man: We shall part for a short time. Time traveler. Axl:...Ahhhgh!

Axl: What period is this? Looks like a messy period in time. Oh well, things will work out. Since getting rattled isn't my style!

[megatentious]

Shin Megami Tensei 3 Nocturne is still incredible

I just finished a replay of Shin Megami Tensei 3 for the first time in a decade, so I felt compelled to write a big long unstructured essay about it where I’m going to sound like an overwrought crazy person. That’s okay though. There’s just something about this game that really speaks to those of us who find our way in. When you sound like a hyperbolic cultist writing soaring prose to try to meet the game at its level, it’s not a unique reaction. We’ve all been spellbound in the same way, the game is designed to do it. How is it designed to do this? Basically, in every conceivable way! The music and sound composition, the moment-to-moment battling, the environmental art and location choices, the progression systems for both the protagonist and demon fusions, the scope and method of storytelling, the density and depth of the mythological references, everything fits together like a symphony to inspire these feelings. Tension, immersion (lol), and utter absorption. Nocturne is a clinic in how to structure every aspect of your game around a unified vision (finding the strength to survive in a cruel and barren land) without hugely compromising ambition. That this level of design can be sustained over the course of 50 hours for the average playthrough and 70 for those of us determined to reach the lowest depths of the game’s enormous optional (!) Amala dungeon is insanely remarkable. Some of the more adolescent fans of the Shin Megami Tensei series and the broader Megaten franchise lionize this one in particular as being the most “dark” but that’s a kind of stupid and narrow way of looking at it. If you’re a cool person you don’t love Nocturne because it’s “dark” you love it because the game makes you feel like you’re hallucinating. SMT3 is unconcerned with providing detailed exposition and light-hearted character moments, but it’s a game that is overrun with “story” at every turn. And not just in the environmental, piece-it-together Souls series storytelling sense people love to talk about, there are actually a bunch more NPCs around straight up delivering dialogue for you than you’d think! Pair that up with the demon chatting, the compendium entries, the audiovisual cues and the gorgeously directed cutscenes, and the common complaint that SMT3 has no story just seems like nonsense to me. The game isn’t necessarily just dour or unambiguously somber either. Megami Tensei’s roots are in the pulpy trash of 80s light novels, and you see this in some of the humorous demon-focused crassness, the bits of comedic negotiation dialogue, and the seeming mish-mash of myth as aesthetic influences. But the funny paradox of SMT3 is that it’s a game built on a punk-rock foundation of rebelling against what’s proper and mainstream (see any interview with the creators) that is also simultaneously downright austere by today’s standards. Grand and lonely and visionary in tone, careful, measured and meticulous in its design, without an ounce of bloat, nothing wasted or incoherent, it’s just so impressive on every level (I promise I’ll get more specific with my gushing soon). There’s an attitude among some Megaten fans that Nocturne is the one that doesn’t fit in the series, that it’s too different from previous Shin Megami Tensei games, but I don’t think that’s right. To me there’s a very clear throughline, it’s just Nocturne’s antecedents aren’t necessarily found in its immediate numbered predecessor. When it comes to the main and numbered games in this series, you can very easily see the path from Megami Tensei 2 -> Shin Megami Tensei 2 -> Shin Megami Tensei 4, all of which begin years after the apocalypse has occurred and concern themselves with how society persists and political factions collide decades and even centuries into the aftermath. They are the three most readily described as “cyberpunk”, they’re chattier, they’re a bit more clichéd in their own ways (amnesiac gladiator and military academy recruit openings for SMT2 and SMT4 respectively), they let you use guns and their general sensibilities are similar.  

SMT3’s lineage is, I feel, more directly traced from two other games. SMT1 and (hear me out!) Revelations: Persona. I think it’s easy to link these three games together for several reasons. In all three you begin in relative peace in a current day city, in all three the inciting incident is an occultist ritual, and interestingly in all three the hospital is your first dungeon, deliberately chosen for its uncanny familiarity to create an immediate sense of unease (and also the pretty obvious birth/death location symbolism). These are games centered around the immediacy of disaster and apocalypse, and take modern day locations that are meant to be familiar and subvert them to make them unnerving. Atmosphere is a word I see frequently used to praise all three games (yes there are at least 1 dozens of us, [dozens!] who like Persona 1) and the dream-like, surreal atmosphere in these three games can be strikingly similar. 

So yeah, good lord, Nocturne’s atmosphere. This game is simply filled with astonishing imagery at every point. The art directors managed to make each scene feel somehow weighty and mesmerizing, with aesthetic choices made throughout that are just so thoughtful and cultured. Angels and demons look terrifying and awesome, in that they inspire terror and awe. Gods and goddesses appear benevolent, their facial expressions neutral and lacking in human emotion. Jack Frost remains the best mascot in videogames. There’s well-researched details in the animations and all aspects of appearance (see here for a bit on Baphomet’s posing). The vocal and sonic choices are perfect, like that unsettling blaring soundblast when the statue of Gozu-Tennoh speaks, as if a great and mighty terror is deigning to communicate across worlds.

There are posts that dissect the spiral imagery of the vortex world that repeats over the course of the game. There are entire sites devoted to breaking down the wide range of inspirations for the game's transcendental demon design. Random tumblr people compare the cutscene direction to Ingmar Bergman films, and it’s interesting to see how the cutscenes are frequently in first person or otherwise hide the protagonist, which not only hearkens back to series roots (while saving budget $$$) but also conveys solitude and makes the scenes with multiple demons and figures appear that much more spectacular. On any given day you’ll find a tweet or two or three of people overwhelmed by the game’s aesthetic choices, its virtuoso game over sequence, or title sequence, or pretty much any sequence. It’s the purest expression of a world class artist’s singular vision and is the reason why all of us sound so annoying whining for Kazuma Kaneko to return from his flower field exile.

There’s also a very ingenious way SMT3 supports its themes and that is through the combat. Nocturne is a game about stealing turns. It’s the fundamental principle of the battling, it’s why everyone tells you to keep the skill Fog Breath, and it’s a carryover from the simpler system in SMT1 where the method of stealing turns was using charm bullets or casting Zio to paralyze the enemy before they even have a chance to act. The battle system has a famous Engrish name called “Press Turn,” which is distinct and not to be confused with the One More system from newer Persona games or the alignment based combat bonuses of Strange Journey.

In SMT3, any given press turn encounter depends upon the party composition choices you’ve made, not only the resistances and repels/drains you enter with (two very different things in terms of battle consequences!) but also the moment to moment decision-making of turn management, weighing how to strategically pass to maximize damage output over the course of the fight. Every battle is an opportunity to demonstrate your efficiency and mastery of the systems, and the goal of each encounter is to use foresight and preparation to demolish your foes before they have the chance to even act. Steal turns and survive in a barren land of death upon death, this is the elegance of Press Turn. You’ll hear endless discussion around this game’s difficulty, and encounters generally have teeth to them yeah, but there is a very principled fairness to the battling where combat swings do not occur as dramatically as they do in say, SMT4. SMT3 is balanced perfectly by virtue of its lack of save anywhere option, providing you with tension at all times but also most importantly the tools to mitigate disaster over the long term, which is a deeply deeply rewarding way to survive.

Press Turn’s UI really adds to this rewarding feeling.  How terrifying is it when a boss casts Beast or Dragon Eye, and suddenly a string of new turn icons appear? How satisfying is it to see a row of flashing turns, knowing that you’ve fully exploited your enemy? The enemy composition really accentuates this as well, with encounters often designed to avoid easy spam of single elements or physical skills to mindlessly coast to victory. SMT3 doesn’t want you taking any shortcuts, if you want to take advantage of a given demon or magatama’s skillset, you need to pair your choices to mitigate the corresponding weakness, or the enemy’s AI will press their advantage in the exact way you would. It’s a really satisfying symmetry.

There are also other paths to battle that are just as viable. Exploiting weaknesses with a multipurpose magic build is another way to steal turns. Building battlers around skills that maximize critical hits is another way. And if you are terrified of the infamous one-shot deaths that people like to say are the franchise trademark? Equip null-death magatama in between level ups. Raise your luck. Resolve battles before enemies even have the chance to use the spell against you. Raise your speed so enemies don’t get the chance to go first. Get endure as soon as possible. The tools for success are all right there for you! Nocturne tasks you with growing strong enough in this world to ascend to creation, and it provides you with multiple paths to reach this goal.

So, about these multiple paths, let me talk to you a bit about SMT3’s famously unique alignment system. Other games are lauded for their ultimately fairly stupid morality systems but Nocturne breezily operates on a completely different level. Instead of RESCUE and HARVEST in dumb giant gothic font or literally color-coded paragon and renegade meters, in SMT3 you align yourself naturally through story progression with factions concerned with stillness, power, solitude, freedom, or rebellion. Instead of the grand binary moral choice being telegraphed through hideous-looking “Little Sisters” (god I hated that stupid name haha) there’s a rough analogue in  the actually sympathetic but far more complex unsettling-looking Manikins, whose character motif is described by the creators as representing those who lose themselves to the strength of numbers. There’s unfortunately a tiny amount of material in the game to support extremely tedious “canon” discussion, but the game actually works best and most purely as an abstract, impressionistic vision of grand universal themes. Playing through any one of SMT3’s six endings makes the universe feel vast and overwhelming, and asks you to contend with a broader suite of philosophies than ‘good’ or ‘bad,’ and that’s ultimately what I think the developers were most interested in going for.

Something about the prose in Nocturne is also special in a way that is extremely difficult to accurately describe. Like everything else in this game it feels elegant and detached, gods and goddesses are appropriately otherworldly without sounding like haughty stereotypes, lower demons are funny and crass in a way that’s not so on-the-nose. Again it’s very difficult to pinpoint but something has been lost in the writing of the newer games, even a bit as small as how angels and demons in the game actually never name anything directly as God, but instead refer obliquely to a Lord, an Absolute, or a Great Will, Nocturne just gets all the little details right.

As I run out of steam from this braindump, I notice there’s still an essay’s worth of observations in so many other topics that deserve to be discussed. The Tokyo-focused but somehow universal theming of the game’s alignment principles and locale visuals. The insanely expansive but unfortunately compressed soundtrack (see over three hours of unreleased material alone here), where dungeon music regularly evolves to indicate progression, and battle and boss music quantity is generously varied both between and within song. The extremely rewarding fusion system can be plumbed to frankly insane depths, with a demon bestiary that is reasonable to 100%, and the lack of “use it or lose it” demon quality that hits other SMT series games contributing to a better feeling of progression and customization opportunities. The demon negotiation, which rewards your knowledge of mythological connections among pantheons with unique one-time only dialogue. The dungeons, the DUNGEONS. With the exception of an early set of sewers, an apparent shitty dungeon theme RPG tradition, each of these are little masterpieces of aesthetics and design, with their own thoughtfully introduced and iterated gimmick, planned wonderfully for both third and first person, often wrapping in and around themselves in spirals in that very Shin Megami Tensei-specific way.

Even if you think a game like Nocturne seems too dense or impenetrable or boring or random-encounter filled or whatever, it’s worth giving it a real shot for yourself to see if it manages to grab you. We’re no longer in those days in the late 2000s where the game cost exorbitant amounts of money to get, a digital version can be found on PS3 for $10 (with only rare emulation issues in certain dungeon sections), and the disc itself was reprinted and can be found brand new on Amazon if you have a PS2 or want to emulate on PCSX2, where the game looks even more breathtaking. Either way, find a way to treat yourself to an RPG where it is actually appropriate to throw around the term masterpiece. I didn’t really write any of this text no one’s going to read to make a persuasive case to anyone, but sometimes games will inspire you and it feels good to ramble about them. Games like this one are nearly impossible to make nowadays, and SMT3 is something worth cherishing.

[madaraism]

Algea - Part II of Himeros

Ἄλγεα ; The Algea – the personified spirits of grief, sorrow and distress.

Summary: Following the aftermath of Riley’s departure, Liam has pressing royal duties to focus on – namely, producing an heir.

Part I - Himeros // Part III - Aletheia // Part IV - Apate // Part V - Hestia // Part VI - Achlys

Pairings: Liam x Riley, Liam x Madeleine

Rating: Mature

Words: 4220

A/N: Thank you for all the overwhelming reviews for the first part of this story! Himeros was originally intended to be an angsty one-shot but reading all your replies and thinking back to poor Liam and Riley, I felt like I needed to continue on the story. If you ever feel that Himeros was a good enough ending, that is perfectly fine – I just feel the need to perhaps give our poor King some closure. I have decided to add in Riley’s name, just to make the dialogue easier to understand. I apologise again for the chapter…

Inspirations for this chapter – Dreaming with a Broken Heart by John Mayer and Almost is Never Enough by Ariana Grande.

Tag List: @theroyalweisme @hhiggs @itzmequeenb @alicars @cocomaxley @blackcatkita @trianiasti @viktoriapetit @umccall71 @topsyturvy-dream @kawairinrin @jayjay879 @bobasheebaby @choiceswreckedme @queencatherynerhys @laniquelove @philiasperanza @hopefulmoonobject

“For the love of god, Maxwell, I wish you would just stop doing your childish dance moves at every damn court event we are invited to.” Bertrand starts, and Maxwell immediately rolls his eyes, his face filled with glee.

“Hey, it got gloomy alright? Riley said I had to have fun on her behalf.” He defends.

Bertrand snorts as they make their way out of their car and through the entrance of their home. He masks his obvious disappointment on the lack of Riley’s presence for the past two days by jabbing complaints at his childish brother.

“Riley this, Riley that, think about the reputation you’re setting on House Beaumont for once, will you?”

Bertrand enjoys the impression he leaves on people of being a constantly blunt man.

Luckily, Maxwell can read him like an open book – he sees the worry hidden within his brother’s eyes and the constant distraught hammered into his tense shoulders.

He knows he is referring to Riley’s current predicament with Liam. Maxwell places a hand on Bertrand’s shoulder, voice lowering in concern. He hopes his words can bring him a sense of ease. “We’ll figure something out. All our brainstorming can’t possibly be a waste of time. …We owe Riley this much. Now let’s go see how our honorary Beaumont is doing.”

Bertrand’s grey eyes gazes into Maxwell’s.

He knows and appreciates just how hard they have been working for the past few months, no matter how exasperating – endless frustrated pacing in the study, papers strewn on the floor, books upon books in search of some possible loophole.

He places his index finger and thumb on the bridge of his nose, sighing out deeply before nodding and following Maxwell.

. . . . . 

Liam finds out about her disappearance in the early hours of the next day.

He had meant to visit her as soon as he got back, but paperwork had delayed him.

When he arrives at the Beaumont Estate, Liam is surprised to find Bertrand and Maxwell with such neutral faces, welcoming him in.

Bertrand, whose appearance involves his brows slightly furrowed in the presence of Maxwell, showed almost no emotion.

Maxwell, whose appearance beared similarity to a bright sun on a clear day, mirrored Bertrand’s emotionless one.

If Liam didn’t grow up groomed to decipher and partake in the art of body language, he wouldn’t’ve suspected a thing.

Both Beaumont brothers had dark circles under their eyes. With closer inspection, he could see their unshaven faces, the top button of Maxwell’s collared shirt undone, the even more rigid posture of Bertrand.

It appears to him that the brothers had not slept.

“…Bertrand, Maxwell. You two are oddly quiet,” Liam’s eyes trails over to the familiar stairs and hallway that leads to Riley’s room. “I hope you’re not still feeling the after-effects of Adelaide’s champagne?”

“Of course not, your highness. Are you looking for Lady Riley? Unfortunately, she is indisposed for the day-” Bertrand wants to continue but is halted by Maxwell. He gives him a warning look.

. . 

“What do you mean she’s gone? She can’t just be gone. If this is some sad game of hide and seek-” His speech is cut short when a panicking Maxwell shoves the note into his face.

He feels the blood draining from his face when his eyes scans quickly across the card.

Bertrand mutters a string of curse words before he clenches his eyes shut, fingers quickly massaging his temple.

“We must not let the King know.”

Maxwell splutters in protest, “What?! Why not?!”

“Think of how he will be, Maxwell. Our people need him right now. He cannot have heartache ruining his role as King.” His voice is grave, hoping that he is speaking reason into his brother’s ears.

“Bertrand, this is crazy. He already married Madeleine when he is so obviously in love with Riley – you’re telling me he can’t function with a heartache?! What has he been doing for the past few months then?! What about Riley?!”

“Please! Maxwell! We will go find her ourselves,” Bertrand tries to persuade him, panic and desperation in his voice, “It’ll be like nothing happened. Think of how heartbroken Liam will be if he finds out.”

Maxwell’s face hardens at his words.

A stiff nod.

Reluctance played a big part in his features.

. . 

Trust in our King.

Bertrand is taken back from the intensity of Maxwell’s gaze. His own collected stance from earlier seems to falter just slightly.

“I’m sorry Liam,” Maxwell begins, slightly timid. He runs his hand roughly through his own hair, trying to relieve some of the tension building up. “What Bertrand said isn’t true. I’m sorry Bertrand… I can’t bear to lie to one of my best friends about such an important issue.”

Bertrand had always shouldered everything regarding the welfares of House Beaumont. As the first born, he was always expected to.

Yet in this moment, Bertrand truly witnesses the growth in Maxwell. He sees his little brother standing beside him, poised to tell truth – calm, yet ready for whatever Liam might throw in their way.

He swallows, gaze moving cautiously from Maxwell to Liam.

The King’s jaw was clenched, shoulders squared with his arms behind his back – prepared.

Bertrand couldn’t decipher what his eyes read.

Maxwell finally breaks the silence, his gaze focused on anywhere but Liam.

“Riley… She’s… She left.”

. . . . .

He sits in the armchair in her room, the card that she had left for the Beaumont Brothers in his hand.

His eyes follow his fingers, tracing over every curve of each letter, each stroke, each little indent made from the pressure of the pen.

He imagines her writing the message on the desk on the other side of the room, and he finds himself wondering what emotions could have been going through her mind when she wrote this.

Merely over two days ago, they were sitting here in the very same spot, repeating their love for each other over and over.

Repeated kisses.

Repeated ‘I love you’s.

He finds himself stuck in the chair. Every inch of his body seemed to be tied down by endless bags of solid cement, gravity his worst enemy.

He can’t move.

He can’t blink.

He won’t move.

Perhaps if he stays seated, she will come waltzing through the doors, laughing the situation off as if it was a mere prank.

His stomach tightens painfully when he remembers her laugh.

Where did she go?

Where could she have gone?

He finds his mind racing through countless possibilities that could’ve resulted in her departure – every possible reason, every excuse, every tiny detail that he could’ve done.

Was it something that he had done?

His fingers turn numb when he remembers trailing his hands over her body, touching, feeling, caressing – he can almost feel her skin beneath his touch, ghosting over.

He closes his eyes, body still, as he chases over every minuscule moment that they had shared with each other.

He remembers the way the Cordonian sunset gave her a goddess-like glow when they shared drinks on her balcony.

He remembers how she would let his hand fall into her own whenever he let the back of their hands touch ever so lightly.

He remembers the mischievous glint in her eyes when they purposely got lost in the maze.

And he remembers how her body felt against his the last time they touched, the last time that they hugged – how soft, how warm, how at home, and how at ease she could make him feel just by wrapping her arms around him, a hand trailing along his back and another getting lost in his hair.

He remembers the last kiss that they shared. One that was filled with an overwhelming amount of love, one that reminded him of all the trials and difficulties they had experienced together, how it made his body warm and full, leaving him absolutely breathless.

Yet it was one that made his stomach do flips and turns at the sadness, desperation and regret that lingers on his lips.

He remembers how she looked at him when he told her he would see her soon. He had brushed off the wetness in her eyes as if it was nothing but the norm, but upon recalling, it was everything full of remorse and guilt.

He remembers how oddly calm she had looked.

And he wonders how long, and how much effort she had put into leaving him and his country.

But for what reason?

He drags his eyes across the card.

‘Tell him that he is a loving and generous King.’

But how was he supposed to rule without her by his side, even if it were as his mistress?

Not that it mattered – he loves her as if he was already married to her.

‘Tell him that I love him. That I always have, and I always will.’

He could hear her voice in his head, solemn.

He could see the tears in her eyes, the wetness on her cheeks as she would’ve hastily tried to wipe them away before anyone saw – even if she was alone in her room.

And he finds himself letting out a quiet, broken sob.

“Why, oh why, did you leave?”

He doesn’t know how long he spends with his eyes pressed against the back of his hand.

When he feels the accumulated tears backtrail down his arm, and the wetness on his thigh, he looks up with his heavy eyes, her room a blurry mess of white, creams and golds.

And he realises then.

It was such a meaningless court accessory to him that he hadn’t realised he had been staring at the answer the entire time.

He eyes the innocent wedding band on his left hand.

Oh, how stupid he feels.

How blatantly obvious.

He wonders how selfish he had possibly gotten, to ask her out of desperation to remain in the picture while he created a child with another woman.

She was selfless and loving. But no matter just how selfless and loving a person could possibly be, they would always have a bottom line, he thinks.

And he is positively sure that he had selfishly pushed her to her limit.

“Bastien,” He finds himself croaking out as he drags his heavy body over to where her bed is, curling up with his back facing the door.

He hears it open before he continues.

“Cancel my appointments for today, please,” He mutters with his eyes closed. He trusts his security detail to pass on the message.

“Yes, my King.”

“And Bastien…” Her scent from the sheets and pillows surround him. He wants to let it comfort him, but he knows he is undeserving of peace without her by his side.

“Find where she is… please.”

When the door closes once more, he finds himself letting his tears flow. He places his hopes on Bastien’s networks and database. He hopes and prays to every deity he knows that Bastien will find her, and that she will be willing to return to Cordonia to be by his side.

But until then, he allows himself to do nothing but wallow in grief.

Liam had never noticed how awfully big and cold her room, and her bed is without her presence.

He drifts off into a pitiful sleep while wondering if this was how she lived her lonely life in Cordonia when he is away.

. . . . .

Liam loses himself to his work.

He is oblivious to how much time, days, and weeks have passed since her departure.

The card that she wrote sits in a frame on his desk, face down.

Its purpose was contradictory in itself.

Her words serve as a reminder to him as what sort of King he is. It is a reminder of a love that they shared, one that was warm, comforting and passionate.

Yet her words remind him of her disappearance. Her touches, her smiles, her presence – sudden, fleeting, haunting.

The only thing that pushes him out of bed each day is Bastien’s lead on her whereabouts.

“We have airport records and security footage of Lady Riley leaving Cordonia for New York.”

It was the most that they could do within Liam’s power as King.

His messages sent to her number and email were left unread and ignored.

He weeps as he forces himself to reread the card that she had left.

He hopes she does not hate him.

All that he can do now is wait for further leads from within America before he can go visit her himself.

He hopes she thinks of him.

. . . . .

The next time he sees his wife one on one, they have a discussion that is more one-sided, more persuasive, than anything.

It was tactical and surprisingly civilised.

As expected, it was another business arrangement.

Her green eyes were calm, red lips straight.

“No.” Unamused.

“No?” He questions. Their faces matched each other, both blank and void of any honest emotions.

“No.” Madeleine repeats. “You can’t possibly think IVF is a pursuable route for us to obtain an heir.”

“And why might that be?” Liam allows his back to face her sitting form as he pours himself some scotch. He doesn’t let her realise that his brows are furrowed in frustration and disappointment.

He already knows the reason why, and she knows too.

He had only hoped it could be a beneficial option worth considering.

“You already know why.” She ridicules him. “It’s the perfect excuse for gossip to go around the court, public and press.”

Madeleine eyed his unmoving back.

“The reality of the matter isn’t regarding the amount of money we are willing to give,” She presses on, her voice unwavering, “A risk is a risk. Cordonia will not do well with unwarranted gossip of their King and Queen unable to conceive.”

Liam swallows the hard liquor swiftly, the cup settling down on the table louder than he wanted.

Madeleine was not a stupid woman. She holds herself highly as one who is strategically adaptable to her own advantage – or more specifically, advantageous for the sake of Cordonia.

She treats her relationship with Liam like it is a job, and she knows that he does too.

She considers them highly compatible in the sense that they both knew what was at stake, and what needs to be sacrificed for the greater good of the country they both loved.

She keeps her green eyes on his tense shoulders.

There is no sympathy in her features. All that she sees is a simple roadblock that can be easily overcome.

“I hope you’re not planning to go to New York.” She states simply and bluntly.

Liam’s face is emotionless when he turns around to look at her.

How did she know?

“I am not a fool, Liam. Your emotions are all over the place like some commoner’s department store sale.” Madeleine raises a perfect brow at him, “People gossip. The walls have ears. Lady Riley hasn’t been seen at court for over a month and your paperwork has been completed quicker than before.”

She pauses only briefly to gauge his body language. Tense, exhausted, broken.

“I cannot stop you from flying to America but think about what message you’ll be leaving for the press and court when they find out you’ve gone after a commoner who had brought shame on the Beaumont House, let alone on the crown.”

She sees his jaw tighten at her words. She does not particularly care as she knows she speaks the truth, and that he knows.

Liam pours himself another drink. He is quick to swallow the burning liquid, hoping it would numb him completely.

He keeps his distance between them when he turns around to face her. Shoulders squared, chin up, hands clasped tightly behind his back.

He avoids her gaze.

“Have someone tell me the opportune date for each month. I will meet you in your chambers then.”

He swallows thickly as he looks around the room briefly before walking out.

I’m sorry, my love.

. . . . .

The first time Liam sleeps with Madeleine, he is fuelled by the alcohol in his veins.

He refuses to look at her in the most gracious way possible as they let the darkness in the room surround them.

He refuses to kiss, he refuses to caress.

He realises no matter how much alcohol he took in order to numb the pain, it was rendered useless when he had to perform.

So he lets the thoughts and memories of Riley fuel his actions instead.

Liam remembers how Riley’s body would move against his when he kissed her in specific spots.

How she would sigh in pleasure, how she would let his name roll off her lips like it was second nature.

The first time he sleeps with Madeleine, he finds his tears trailing down her back.

He remembers the knot in his stomach and the bile in his throat, threatening its way up as he pushes on with his duty for his country.

He tries with all his might to think of her, and he can almost see, and can almost feel the way she would’ve arched into him when he makes her come.

“Riley… my love… oh, my love…”

When he finishes for the first time, he sits on the edge of Madeleine’s bed with his head in his hands.

He doesn’t look up as she walks off to clean up.

He cries over the guilt of the sin he feels he has committed.

He cries over the missing warmth of her body in his arms.

He misses every inch of her being.

He misses how her hands would cup his face, and how her fingers could just run through his hair and he would feel so relaxed and at ease.

He misses the way she looks at him, eyes full of love and admiration. Full of luck and pride that they had found each other in such a vast world.

Even with all the difficulties they had faced, just looking at her and holding her hand made everything worth it.

His cries are soundless, yet deafeningly loud.

His body aches and yearns for her touch, her presence, her being.

His heart was empty, yet in so much pain.

When Madeleine returns from her bathroom for the first time with her silk dressing gown hugging her curves, she hands over a glass of whiskey, nudging the cool glass against the hand that covers his face.

She looks at him expectantly when he stares at her, his eyes red, lashes heavy from the tears.

He drinks. She fills his glass up, and he drinks some more.

Once his face is dry, he stands up to put his pants back on and to button his dress shirt.

He bows his head slightly, ever gracious, ever regal, as he gives her a quiet apology for his words.

He thanks her for the night before leaving her room.

During these moments, he never looks at her once, never mentions her name.

And Madeleine feels guilt.

Just a little.

. . 

Two years pass as their own arrangement continues.

Twelve times each year, once a month, Liam would have to step into Madeleine’s room.

His legs used to feel heavy, a strong sense of self-condemnation forming in his chest with every step that he took.

Now, he feels nothing but an obligation to get it over and done with.

Liam no longer feels the guilt when Riley’s name forces itself off his lips.

The benefits of the arrangement that they had, he thinks to himself with bitter amusement as he sits on the edge of the bed after another night.

Liam watches Madeleine’s figure walk gracefully over to her en suite to clean up.

He takes his cue to leave.

. .

The Queen Mother was not pleased.

The two years that had passed did not do the crown any favours.

With Constantine’s passing in the last year, Cordonia – and even more importantly the crown, needed stability more now than ever.

She seeks for someone, or something, to blame.

Liam finds the royal physician visiting Madeleine and him more often than he would like.

They tell them that it is normal for some to take a while before they are able to conceive.

The physician is met with a pair of unamused eyes when he tells them to ‘perhaps try to allocate more time in your highnesses’ busy schedules in bed?’.

The King nearly breaks the glass of whiskey in his hand out of pent up rage.

When the physician leaves, he almost immediately follows suit.

Green eyes gaze on the King’s retrieving form.

She knows that their arrangement will remain unchanged.

She surprises herself when she looks down at her lap, finding her hands and nails clenched up and digging into some sorry part of the couch.

She blames the weather for the tears in her eyes.

. . . . . 

A year and a half later on a bleak and cold day in New York, Riley receives the dreaded phone call from Hana.

“I don’t know if he has messaged you yet,” She remembers the worry in Hana’s voice, the quiet mumbles as her best friend reasons to herself, “But then again you don’t want to talk…”

She remembers her hesitant pause, “Riley… I don’t know when they will notify the press, it’s very early on, and very, very secretive, but… oh Riley, it’s Madeleine. She’s pregnant.”

She finds herself on the tiles of her bathroom again, hurling into the toilet in front of her. This time for different reasons.

She uses the baggy sleeves of her cable-knit sweater to wipe away her tears and at the corner of her mouth.

She has been waiting to receive this news for years, mentally preparing herself and her stomach.

She doesn’t know why she is still so surprised that he actually went through with it.

Perhaps some part of her had been hoping, wishing, praying, that he would never.

She closes her eyes and leans back into the cold glass door of her standing shower, wrapping her arms around herself.

She shudders and finds a shaky breath leaving her lips as she remembers being in his arms.

From time to time, she allows herself to drown in the memories she had with him – she misses the feeling of his lips against her own, how his eyes were always calm but so full of love for her.

She misses how his voice would sound when he embraced her from behind, whispering sweet nothings into her ear.

She misses the lucky mornings they would get to wake up next to each other. How his eyes would gaze over every inch of her face, taking in the love that she showed to him through her gentle kisses and bright smiles.

She feels a body rest beside her, a small face on her lap.

And she forces herself back into her reality – cold on a tiled bathroom floor in a small apartment in New York.

She hugs the now four-year-old closer to her.

“I’m sorry, Levi. I’m just having one of those moments, aren’t I?” She murmurs, absentmindedly twirling some of his hair in her fingers.

His dark eyes does not meet hers for a while, but when it does, she’s relieved to see a small smile on his lips.

The boy doesn’t say anything, as he doesn’t know what, or who had brought the tears into his mother’s eyes. He was dutifully observant and mature for his age and has learnt that simple gestures like his hugs can bring some mirth back into her eyes.

She sees every bit of Liam in him – from the softness of his hair to the shape of his eyes, the way that his small nose stands tall within the frame of his face, to the way his ears sit on his head. She marvels at how he has the shape of Liam’s lips, but her volume – just slightly fuller than his.

And when she stares into her little boy’s eyes, they remind her of his when Liam isn’t weighed down with the duties and troubles of courtly life and country duties.

She sighs once more and kisses his hair.

“Let’s go get some cronuts, my love.”

. .

Surprise hits her like a truck once more the following week.

Riley stares at the face in front of her, her own failing to mask the shock. Her hand never leaves her door handle as she readies herself to close it in the person’s face at any given second she senses danger.

She couldn’t help herself but to quickly look around the corridor of her apartment building, coming to the educated conclusion that the person was most likely travelling alone.

Without him?

She could recognise those features from a mile away.

Those perfectly styled golden curls. The red lips painted with precision, always in a straight line, unamused. Those intense green eyes, staring right into her very soul as if the pair of sunglasses on her face is not even there. That damned string of pearls around her small neck.

“Lady Riley, what a pleasure to see you again.” The lady starts, her voice not matching her words.

Without Liam?

Riley stares for the longest time before remembering to close her mouth.

“Madeleine?”

--

Part 3: Aletheia

[codynaomiswireart]

“Gauze in the Wound” - Part 3

(Parts 1 & 2)

Going into a bit of a flashback on this segment!  The events in this chapter actually take place before part one, where Varian goes in for his trial with the royal court a few days after being arrested.  It...does not go well.  There is a LOT of angst in this portion, so just be ready for that.  Otherwise I hope you enjoy it!

Another Quick Note: Also, for those of you who are fans of King Frederic, Queen Arianna, and/or Rapunzel, I just want to make it clear that Varian’s dialogue does NOT necessarily reflect my own thoughts and opinions on how the characters conducted themselves in the series.  While I do think that everyone has their share of the blame in how things unfolded in season 01, this piece is very much Varian’s perspective on what had happened, so it’s of course incomplete and serves to primarily to try to justify his actions as he sees fit.  Just so you know and don’t think this is meant to be an attack on the other characters, because I do like the others.  There’s just going to be a lot for everyone to have to sift through in the future for sure.

“Often when he was teaching me to write in Greek the Fox would say, 'Child, to say the very thing you really mean, the whole of it, nothing more or less or other than what you really mean; that's the whole art and joy of words.'

“A glib saying. When the time comes to you at which you will be forced at last to utter the speech which has lain at the center of your soul for years which you have, all that time…been saying over and over, you'll not talk about the joy of words.”  ~ Queen Orual, Till We Have Faces

(Several weeks prior...)

[“Varian,” Quirin interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation at his son’s persistence.  “Children have no place in court.”]

“…What was that you were saying Dad?” Varian couldn’t help but think to himself bitterly as he faced the doors of the palace’s throne room.  Any moment now, they would be opened, and an entire court would be assembled on the other side, all for him.  Waiting for him.  The irony of it all would’ve almost been comical, had it not been so utterly tragic.

…So, how many lies did that make now?  Varian had lost count…

With a low, heavy noise, the doors to the throne room finally swung open, and Varian did his best to ignore the murmurings and whisperings that his presence prompted as Pete and Stan ushered him in across the threshold.  It seemed as if nearly the whole kingdom had turned out to watch this trial unfold.  Varian’s head hung low, his dark bangs dangled in front of his face, and his footfalls were heavy on the carpet as he walked through the gauntlet of eyes lining the pathway to the front of the chamber.  The chains around his ankles and wrists clinked together, and their noise echoed painfully off the marble walls, tiles, and high ceiling as we went.

Varian hated it.  All of it.

He hated the feeling of so many eyes boring into him as he passed before them, and he hated all the people behind those eyes.  He hated the feeling of Pete and Stan’s hands on his shoulders as they forced him onward.  He hated the chains that clung to him like metal snakes, weighing him down.  He hated the decadence of the lofty chamber with its purple banners and gold trim – the levity of colors and light only serving to mock his miserable state.  He hated not having his goggles or work apron on, leaving him feeling even more vulnerable than otherwise.  He hated not having Ruddiger at his side (the little creature having been left locked up in their holding cell until after his trial).  He hated the royal advisor, Nigel, who stood ramrod-straight to the side of the dais, and held a scroll in his hands.  Varian hated that scroll, and the list of charges it undoubtedly contained against him.  He hated the Captain of the Guard who stood dutifully to the opposite side of the dais, his hand resting vigilantly on the pommel of his sheathed sword as his eyes followed Varian to the front of the room.

Most of all, Varian hated the two figures that had yet to enter the chamber, though Varian glared daggers at their empty thrones as he was halted in front of them.

“If only…” the incredibly hostile side of Varian thought to himself upon seeing them as such…Though, in a most fleeting moment, Varian also felt a tiny shudder run down his spine at the idea of how it nearly had been what was now before him those few nights ago – the small part of his old self that still had a say in things feeling a sense of horror at the thought.

At what he had nearly-

“ALL RISE,” Nigel’s voice rang out, interrupting Varian’s thoughts and shoving that small voice inside of him back down into the depths of his soul as the door to the side of the throne room opened, and the crowd of people all rose to their feet behind him.  Varian tensed as he heard and felt their synchronized movements like a tidal wave of judgment threatening to break over him at his back.  “FOR THEIR MAJESTIES, KING FREDERIC AND QUEEN ARIANNA!”

As King Frederic and Queen Arianna entered into the court from one of the side doors, Varian had half a mind to sit down right in the middle of the floor out of spite, but Pete and Stan’s grip on his arms prevented him from doing so.  Varian’s eyes followed the king and queen as they went, and for a brief second Varian made eye contact with the queen.  As Varian’s steely, icy blue eyes peered out at her from the shadow behind his oily, ebony hair, Varian saw a wince flash across her face before she forced herself to quickly look away.

Had her expression been out of fear of him?  Out of pity for him?  Both?  Varian wasn’t sure, nor did he care.  He loathed it all in any event.

As the king and queen came to their thrones, the king bid everyone be seated, and Varian could feel the wave behind him come roaring back down again, feeling reality crash its way down over him in tandem.

“COURT IS NOW IN SESSION!” Nigel’s voice rang out again.  “HIS MAJESTY KING FREDERIC PRESIDING!”

Varian’s trial had now begun.

Opening up the scroll, Nigel stepped forward and cleared his throat.  “Varian, son of Quirin,” he began, Varian’s eyes casting down and his hands balling into fists in anguish at hearing his dear father’s name spoken aloud (and in that stupid fake accent).  “You are hereby charged with acts of trespassing, theft, sabotage, conspiracy, disturbance of the peace, avoiding arrest, deliberate destruction of both public and private property, blackmail, assault, illegal animal experimentation, breaking and entering, kidnapping, holding multiple persons hostage, attempted homicide, attempted regicide, and treason.  How do you plead?”

Varian could practically feel the air get sucked out of the room as everyone seemed to hold their breath, waiting for his answer.

…Varian kept silent.

“How do you plead?” Nigel repeated firmly.  Still Varian did not answer.  After a moment of full, awkward silence, the king finally made to speak.

“On behalf of the defendant,” he began, causing Varian to tense up even further as the blood boiled in his veins upon hearing his enemy’s voice.  “I as judge will offer a ‘not-guilty’ plea to the charges presented.”

“The court accepts,” Nigel replied, rolling the scroll back up in a flourish.  Varian frowned hard at the floor in front of him.  Despite how it may have sounded, he knew full well that the king didn’t actually believe him to be ‘not-guilty’ – quite the contrary of course – but it was standard procedure for a ‘not-guilty’ plea to be the default when a defendant refused to speak.  Varian didn’t know much about Corona law, but that much he knew.

“The court will now hear from the defense,” Nigel continued as he signaled for Pete and Stan to let go of Varian’s arms (though the two of them remained stationed close by his sides, ready at any moment to make a grab for him if need be).

“Varian, son of Quirin,” Nigel repeated, Varian’s eyes now turning to look at him with a sideways glare.  “The court will now hear your testimony.  Do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

Varian’s eyes suddenly took on a faraway look as he heard those words.

“Promises…Promises!?  The TRUTH!?”

For anyone looking on, it was eerie to watch and to listen to what came next.

For a second, it almost looked as if Varian would only remain silent again.  But then, his face turned downward, his eyes shut tightly, as his shoulders began quivering.  Pete and Stan could hear a shaky intake of breath coming from him, and for a moment, it looked as if Varian was going to cry.  Queen Arianna already began to feel having to restrain herself from rushing forward to bring the boy into a motherly embrace as she saw it.  She knew such a thing would surely be against court procedure – and likely Varian would despise such contact – but O how she longed to comfort the clearly hurting child that stood before her (even after all that had happened)!  How badly she wanted to make things even only a little bit better for him, if only she could-!

But what it all actually came to made nearly all the warmth in Arianna’s heart run cold, and she couldn’t help but sit still as stone upon her throne in horror as the realization hit her.

Varian was not crying.  He was laughing.  A joyless, ironic, pained sound to be sure, but it was indeed laughing.  Perhaps there was a hint of a sob somewhere in it too, but Varian’s anger soon pushed it back down.

“Ha ha ha ha!”  Varian’s chuckles crescendoed, before rounding off with a huff of disbelief.   “Really!?” Varian finally burst out, his eyes turning up to glare at the royals, and the both of them feeling horribly pinned beneath the pure fury that held them there with an expression that swung between sneering and scowling.  “REALLY!?  You’re honestly asking ME to promise to tell the truth!?  Ha!  That’s REAL rich, coming from you!  Why don’t you ask yourselves that same question-!”

“None of that now!” the Captain of the Guard called out as Varian dared to take a small step forward in his outburst, and Pete and Stan made to resume their grip on the boy.  Disturbed mutterings and chatterings could be heard growing in the crowd behind them in response to Varian’s words and impudence.

“Everyone, please!” the king called above the din as he stood, everyone pausing and going silent in response.  Frederic swallowed hard, forcing his next few words to come out as Arianna looked up at him with deep concern in her eyes.  “The court has agreed to hear from the defendant.  Let him speak.”

With great reluctance, the Captain, Pete, and Stan stood down, and Varian jerked his arms out of their grasp, his chains clinking roughly together.

King Fredric sat back down.  “Varian,” he tried again, attempting to refocus the proceedings as Varian’s eyes met his own with a response of pure rage.  “You have been brought here before this court to answer for the charges brought against you.  Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

“…That depends,” Varian replied through clenched teeth.  “Do you?”

King Frederic’s eyes narrowed.  He knew this was going to be a hard trial, and he knew Varian wasn’t in his right mind, but he wasn’t expecting this.

“What do you mean by that, Varian?” he dared to ask.

Varian guffawed again in response.  “Oh honestly-!?  Please, let’s not carry on this farce any longer, your majesty!” Varian mockingly bowed for a second as he said it, Arianna wincing once again in response.  “You want the truth!?  Fine!  I’ll give you the truth!”  Varian’s voice grew louder as he carried on, his shrill voice echoing around the chamber (sounding almost foreign to his own ears, as all the words he had been storing up inside of him poured out in a verbal torrent that he hardly thought to stop).

“Yeah, I did all that stuff you said!  Yes!  Fine!  Boom, guilty as charged!  You can all go home now!  Congratulations Corona!  You caught the bad guy!  Case closed!  Problem solved!  Way to finally lock up that maniac who just needed to be gotten rid off after ignoring him didn’t work!  Oooh, but you so counted on that in the beginning didn’t you Fred!?”

King Frederic’s mustache twitched in anger at Varian’s casual address of him, but he held his temper and his tongue as the boy carried on.

“Yeah, if only everyone else had ignored the situation like you did!  If only we all had our own ivory towers that we could retreat to away from danger!  Then everything would be all right for you, wouldn’t it?  Well guess what!?  We don’t all have towers!  And it WASN’T all fine!”  Now Varian felt the first stirrings of his emotion beginning to break as he thought of what he was to say next.  But it was all right.  He knew he was right, and the first stitch had already been applied to the wound he scrambled to close as he went.

He continued applying the verbal sutures.  “The black rocks weren’t stopping, and Old Corona was being destroyed!  And my father! – Your friend! – He ended up paying the price for that!  For what you refused to do anything about!  For what your daughter brought upon the kingdom!  And-!”

“What would you have had me do, Varian!?” King Frederic now interrupted, angry that Varian would drag his daughter again into this.  “You know very well yourself that the black rocks couldn’t be cut!  And I gave your village more land to rebuild!  What else was I to do!  It was not within my power to-!”

“But it was within Rapunzel’s power, wasn’t it!?” Varian shouted back.  “You know it!  I know it!  We all saw it only the other day!  She was connected to the rocks the whole time!  She could’ve done something!  And you knew!  Oooooh no, but NO!  This was your daughter of course!  You couldn’t possibly risk her precious safety for the lives of dozens of villagers living on the outskirts!  Oh, but don’t worry your highness!  Your daughter learned better than you!  She knew better than to put hundreds of lives at risk for the sake of one person!  She made that very clear the night she had me thrown out of here after I came begging for her help – begging for her to help save my father from a disaster she started!  Oh, and before you ask if I went to find help elsewhere, of course I thought of that!  But then I find that apparently my begging had been mistaken for attacking!”

Here Nigel shifted uncomfortably in his corner by the dais.

“But good for you, your majesty!”  Varian gave a couple of slow claps.  “Good!  For!  You!  You played your cards well!  Your people are so loyal to you that they wouldn’t even dream of helping anyone who was rumored to have attacked your precious little girl!  Better safe than sorry though, am I right!?  That’s how it all runs around here, doesn’t it!  Never mind if you’re proven guilty or not!  It’s all arbitrary in the end isn’t it!?  With magic!  Nothing works according to the equation around here!  Nothing around here is fair!  Nothing-!”

Varian’s voice trailed away.  He paused, taking a few deep breathes as he found himself dizzy and winded after his long rant.  He staggered a little, but remained on his feet as Pete and Stan reached out and steadied him (though of course Varian felt no gratitude).  Varian swallowed hard, and when his voice came again it was no longer shouting, but the edge still very much there.  “Yeah,” Varian began again.  “I did all that stuff you said I did.  We all know it.  And no, I’m not sorry.  Why you may ask?  Well…” Varian sneered up at the king.  “I could ask you the exact…same…thing.”

Guilty.  Of course that had been the verdict.

Guilty.

Guilty.

Guilty…

The world echoed in Varian’s brain as he was escorted back to his holding cell in the palace dungeons.  He felt exhausted.  He felt sick – the horrible aftertaste of all his words burning in the back of his throat like bile as he staggered down the stone steps.

The trial had moved on of course, as only trials do in Corona.  With Varian’s unapologetic confession for his crimes, there was little need for witness testimony, though a few were heard nonetheless.  Varian had blocked them out as best as he could…but however hard he tried, he could not block out the sound of the queen’s voice as she had given her testimony.  He honestly didn’t remember a lot of what she actually said, but her tone had dripped with the courage and dignity of a true queen, yet also with all the gentleness and compassion of motherhood.

…And Varian had hated it.

Varian let his arms hang limp as the Captain removed his handcuffs from him, and after taking off his shackles the door was shut and locked behind him.  No one would be coming by again until morning.

Then, silence.

Varian stood in the middle of his cell, utterly despondent as the light of a waning moon streamed in from the barred window.  Cautiously, Ruddiger made his way out from where he had been curled up underneath Varian’s cot to the side, alerting Varian to his presence with a few soft cooing noises.

“…H-how did it go?” Ruddiger attempted to ask through his soft chitterings.  Varian looked down at him for a moment (though his eyes almost left the impression of looking through Ruddiger as opposed to actually seeing him), and then Varian walked a few paces more to where he leaned a tired shoulder against the wall.

At that, the dam broke.

Varian didn’t even bother trying to stop it as the tears and sobs came pouring out of him almost right away, and that tiny voice he had shut away those many hours ago broke back through with a vengeance.  It brought no words with it this time, but only a need to release the heartbreak that burned like acid in his chest.  Leaning back against the wall, Varian sunk his way down into a miserable ball on the floor, burying his face in his arms as he cried in agony, and his brain reeling as the reality of it all began to hit him.

This was it.  He had truly hit rock bottom.

Varian wasn’t sure how long he had been sobbing on the floor, but presently, he wrapped his arms around himself as he suddenly felt how chilled he had become.  He wouldn’t be surprised if he were coming down with some sort of fever after everything.  But what did it all matter anymore anyway?  Why should he bother to-?

Varian’s thoughts were again interrupted that day as he now heard the sound of cloth being dragged across the floor.  Wiping the tears from his eyes for a better look, Varian saw Ruddiger dragging one of the blankets from his cot across the floor, and presently began to pull it over his master’s quivering form.  This done, Ruddiger then brought his face up to Varian’s, wiping away his remaining tears with his forepaws, and giving Varian a few quick snuffly raccoon kisses on his forehead.  “It’s ok,” he seemed to be trying to say.  “I’m here!  It’ll be all right!  I’m with you!  Don’t cry!”

Varian let a few more tears fall in grateful response, Ruddiger wiping them up as Varian pulled him in closer, burying his face in his friend’s fur.

“So, it’s come to this,” Varian thought both gratefully and pitifully.  “I’ve sunk so low I have to be mothered by a raccoon.”

A few minutes later, Varian felt himself beginning to fall into unconsciousness, hugging Ruddiger close as he made to fall into the dark embrace of the first night out of what was to be a long five years-worth for him.  And what about after that?

He felt numb.  He felt hopeless.

Or perhaps…nearly hopeless.

“Please,” Varian found that small voice in himself weakly praying in his mind as sleep took him.  “Please…someone…help me!...”

Xavier stared hard at the fire burning in the hearth, the cup of tea he had made for himself sitting cold and untouched as he rested his chin on his hands clasped in front of him, the blacksmith’s mind deep in thought.  Xavier could hardly believe what he had witnessed during the trial that day.  He could hardly believe that so much bitterness and hatred could be present in so young a person as Varian.

“…What happened to you?” was all the blacksmith could think in grief and bewilderment for the boy as he thought back to what he had seen and heard from him that day.  Of course, on one level, Xavier knew perfectly well what had happened to Varian.  Everyone in the kingdom knew about it.

But…something was still missing.

Xavier couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about the whole thing just didn’t feel complete.

“Why?”  The question had been left hanging at the end of Varian’s testimony…and it was a question no one else seemed to be asking.

Xavier cringed as he recalled what he had heard people saying around him as the court had adjourned that evening.

“Can you believe that?” one lady had said.  “The nerve of that child!  I would’ve thought Quirin would’ve raised a more well-behaved son.”

“Yes.  Poor fellow,” a man had replied in response.  “Though even before this whole thing with these horrid black rocks, I had heard that it was all Quirin could do to prevent the boy from destroying Old Corona long before such a disaster came.”

“That’s because of all the witchcraft the he dealt with!” a frightened voice had piped up next to Xavier.

“It wasn’t witchcraft you fool!” another voice interjected a few feet away.  “Everybody knows the boy was a wizard!  NOT a witch!”

“My cousin in Old Corona once told me that it was alchemy.”

“Alchemy?  What’s that?  Sounds like a kind of witchcraft to me!”

“No, alchemy is a science.  At least, that’s what the kid told everyone.”

“Yeah.  He probably told them that so he could go on making his brews and creating his spells to make his monsters and living metal men in secret!”

“Oh come on!  That part has got to be exaggerated!”

“But the witnesses all said it was true!  Oh!  Hey!  If you don’t believe me, we could go over to Old Corona and you can see for yourself!  I’ve heard a whole bunch of his metal soldiers still sit there impaled by the black rocks that the princess used to defeat him.”

“No way!  I’m not going anywhere near that place-!”

Most of the conversations Xavier had overheard went something along those lines, and it broke his heart.  Xavier didn’t know Varian very well, but he had seen the boy a few times before today, and he could hardly believe that such an excitable, energetic, and sweet child could’ve made such a drastic turn as that.  Perhaps most people chalked it up to what Varian had spouted on about earlier, or perhaps a sort of displaced anger in the face of an accident tied to the princess.  But Xavier wasn’t convinced.

Again, something was missing…But how to go finding out about it?

Finding out?

Xavier rubbed his hands over his eyes, really questioning where his mind was going as he came back to himself.  “Really now Xavier ol’ boy,” he muttered to himself, attempting to be practical.  “Remember what happened the last time you tried to help in matters like these?  What a disaster that had been.”

And it truly it had been.  Of course Xavier had found out shortly after that most peculiar day (the one with the whole debacle with his mood potion) that Varian had used a modified version of his elixir for his own schemes.  And what even greater disasters came from that.  Best then for the blacksmith to not try to stick his oar in again if he-

Xavier suddenly sat upright as it hit him like a thunderclap.  “My potion!” he thought to himself with a sour jerk of sick guilt.

Oh no…

Whether Xavier liked it or not, he been an unwitting agent for furthering Varian’s crimes.  In fact, you could even say that it was Xavier’s small potion that proved to be the point from which Varian’s whole revenge scheme was able to start from in the first place.

Varian may have been the one to start the fire, but Xavier had given him the matchbox.

…What to do then now?  Perhaps Xavier was old-fashioned that way, but he felt convinced that given this knowledge was now obligated by honor to try to rectify what he had done.

To the kingdom…to Quirin…

To Varian…

“Well…” Xavier thought aloud, an idea beginning to form in his head as he stood up and walked over to the nearby table, grabbing some paper and ink as he did so.  “Perhaps there is one thing I could do on that front…”

With that, Xavier began to compose his letter.

“Attn: The Royal Advisor Nigel, by urgent request

To their majesties King Frederic and Queen Arianna,

Greetings.  If quite agreeable to you both, I would like to request an audience at your earliest possible convenience.  I have a proposition I would like to make…”

[theparaminds]

When taught to young children, music is explained as ‘what emotions feel like’, in it’s simplest form that is all that music is. Yet, Holladay has embraced this idea to the highest degree, whether purposefully or subconsciously, to create some of the most honest and hopeful music around. 

Standing as both a person of colour and as someone who identifies with queer communities, Holladay is not the final puzzle piece ready to complete an existing story. Instead, he survives as a piece uniquely his own, starting his own puzzle to find the answers to questions he and so many others know, yet struggle to understand. 

Music is much more than just sound or vibrations to Holladay; it’s a way of life, it’s healing and above all, it’s freedom in a form that can never be taken away. And in the same vein, Holladay is more than just a musician to those around him; he’s an open book that challenges us to listen and understand others, yet above all, to reflect on ourselves and to become the best possible individuals we can become. 

PM: First question as always, how is your day going?

H: My day is ok, I had something planned but just woke up late. But tomorrow's a new day and I can get back on it. I have just been at home with the homies.

PM: Is that a sort of morning meditation for you all?

H: Actually, Yeah! First, we drink coffee then we all just spiral together

PM: To begin why don't we look at your beginnings as an artist, how do you believe your environment growing up led to you becoming an artist and feeling you needed to express yourself artistically?

H: Music has not always been, but has now become a healing tool. Ever before the music, I make now I was making hip hop and at the time I was perpetrating the same cycles that I was put in, that was machismo culture and indulging in that. At one point I moved away and freed myself and just decided to create music of what I truly feel and wanting to create healing.

PM: Have you found a positivity and personal success in rejecting modern male stereotypes and hyper-masculinity? And what do you find the importance of that is in art and in general life?

H: I’m looking to free myself in every way possible and stepping back from hip-hop and just allowing myself to create based on feelings. But it's really important for all of us, especially us men of color who make music because there is no black and white. We should be able to touch any topic, cry and be able to feel in general.

PM: Through the challenges of being queer and a POC, how did you find yourself working towards self-acceptance and understanding?

H: As of recently its funny to me, the past two weeks I've been getting a lot of people reaching out and telling me how my work makes them comfortable with their queerness or in their own skin. We tell ourselves this is why we do this, and you can become very narcissistic in it, but my end goal is to make music that makes me feel safe and to see other people are feeling that way it boggles my mind yet happy.

PM: As well, while looking at music, how have you felt the groups you represent have been treated in the industry and how could it improve as time goes on?

H: I won't name but some of the people who have been representing the QPOC community have this fetish for white men and It's so easy for us men of color to love someone that doesn't look like us, it's harder to love someone that is a mirror. We need to keep working on loving ourselves and being accepting of how we as a community are and our faults.

PM: How about the indie community specifically? Has it embraced it you and given you a better safe space that's a lot more positive to work in?

H: Yeah I don't have that many homies in the scene, but the ones I do, like Victor, Cuco and Jasper Bones, are all very loving and accepting. When I was making hip-hop, not to say there weren't love filled spaces, but it was to an extent, but now I’m happy and feel like I'm apart of something special.

PM: While you mention them, what’re your thoughts on this rising group of brown artists like Victor and Cuco, and how would you say their and your rise has meant for all of your shared cultures in media?

H: I think it happens a lot in the media where each generation has a group of brown artists come up. There's this marketing tool of ‘the Latin explosion’ and it happens all the time. In the 2000s it was Frankie J, Baby Bash etc. and it makes me uncomfortable, it makes me feel like we always haven't been here and are something new. But with this happening it's being seen as us finally being heard and hopefully it can break the chain of what the media has done to latinx artists.

PM: Almost in a way the difference seems to be a lot more pride and self-love towards the community you guys have come from, have you felt growing up you’ve always been connected to where you come from or did you find you rejected it for a while?

H: For my experiences, I went through a long self-hate phase, I used to be so lost after the 2000s it felt like there was no representation of myself. Whatever I saw I wanted to be, and I wasn't seeing me. Slowly I started reading and becoming educated about becoming myself and why brown is beautiful. I hope I can be that for other kids and make sure real representation that isn't token can speak to others that I once was like.

PM: We talk about healing but you also speak about self-hate. But you're also someone who speaks a lot on mental health in your communities, is this something music has helped you heal through?

H: Of course, releasing music is always after coming to terms with an issue and something I needed to confront. Talking about mental health is so important to me because there's such a stigma around it,  It's something essential and it's something that needs to be a core of dialogue.

PM: How have you felt the communities you are a part of have, especially the POC communities, dealt with the rise in mental health importance and dealt with others being more open on the issue

H: I would like to say it's getting better, and I say that because I'm not around a lot of older brown folks anymore, I’m very much around those in my age range, and we’re all pretty accepting. We’re working towards things and being transparent as much as possible. It feels it's getting better but there’s the outside world I'm not part of, you know? There are still kids being told to not cry, it'll take a long time till we get there.

PM: Who have you found as you’re healing, growing and creating that you are looking up to and learning from as you discover yourself and transverse through challenges

H: The universe, and that can be any higher power, whatever it means to you. It guides me and teaches everything as I go. As well, the people in my space and my managers and the people I work with, all the homies. I feel the universe has given them the message to pass down to me.

PM: Looking ahead, how do you hope to see yourself grow as an artist through the next months and years and how does that growth look for you?

H: I just hope that whatever I’m working on, it'll be beautiful and that's what’ll come out of me. The last song I released, Baby boy, that came from wanting to figure things out and be comfier so the more I go into it, the more I learned myself. I just want to keep creating until it’s habit

PM: Do you have any future work on the horizon? And how does it build on past work?

H: I think since I'm trying to figure out something new every day or any chance I get, every time I do that is when I create but with the same cadence and feeling as before. I do want to put an EP together soon, it's going to sound different but it’s still going to be me.

PM: What to you is the most important lesson to pass down to others who have been through or are going through the same challenges as you?

H: Be patient with yourself and your process, it seems like a long road, feeling like you'll never reach where you want to be, but you just have to trust your process and the universe. Step back from the moment and group yourself when possible. And second, know safe spaces exist and that you're loved and accepted somewhere, trust the world will take you there.

PM: And for a final question, what’s a book everyone reading should pick up?

H: The Malcolm X autobiography, after I read it in high school it just sparked something in me, it didn't stop there because it shows you that change is possible within a person.

PM: Do you have anybody or anything to shout out or promote? The floor is yours.

H: Shout out to my safe space and everyone in it. I love them very much and the past couple months being here has helped me so much, I feel like if I didn't find this space I would probably not be here anymore, honestly, and having a support group is so important, you don't have to be an individual and independent all the time. We are social creatures who feed off each other. We need people. Shoutout to the music homies, Victor, Cuco, Jasper Bones. That’s about it.

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