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seyaryminamoto · 1 year

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Happy Valentine’s Day! I just read chapter 282, and you definitely are a master at pulling at the heartstrings. It was beautifully executed and I cannot wait till the real deal! Ursa was a big surprise but I am so excited! Glad you are not sticking to the comics with her, (I was not a fan of her story.) what her thoughts are on Sokka & Azulas relationship. What kind of role will she play in the near future for them? What does she know about the fate of her children? Fantastic work as always!

Happy belated Valentine's day for you too, Anon! Thank you very much for letting me know I brought on the feels like I meant to with 282, haha xD

Yeah, I've thought to drop another author's note in the next chapter to remind everyone, for the millionth time, that her backstory in Gladiator is 100% different from what the comics did. I don't even think it's all that necessary to say it anymore, but I feel like I should clarify it at least one more time, haha xD

As for those questions... answers will arrive relatively soon inside the story. But if you really must know... :'D

Well, first off, her thoughts on their relationship are somewhat complicated to explain as things are riiiight now. As you may recall, Ursa's current status is... a little bit chaotic. She's got some severe trauma she hasn't dealt with in any positive way, and her mind is not as clear as it could be. Therefore, as she is right now in 282, Ursa continues to be in denial of everything that suggests time has passed, that her children have grown up, and that she hasn't been part of their lives at all, just as she was in 207. Therefore, anything that implies her daughter has had a life she has missed out on is basically something she shuts the door on, harshly, because she refuses to accept this is possible...

... but that won't be her state forevermore :'D

Once Ursa comes around and accepts reality, which is big progress for her, she'll have a very long and thorough conversation with Sokka. It's a veeeery important, complicated and difficult conversation for them both. Part of why she wants it to happen, though, is the fact that Sokka is a wholly new person she has never really had a connection with before. Unlike how it is with Zuko or Azula, where she's in conflict and denial of who they are now as she clings to the past... it's easier to talk to Sokka and understand what's going on with him because he's someone new. Naturally, learning about Sokka and Azula's bond wasn't the easiest thing for her (though technically she, uh, doesn't learn about it from Sokka...), but the main thing she will concern herself with is...

... Azula's happiness! :'D

She wants to be sure that Sokka loved her and cared about her, first of all, and once she grows to believe that, she actually becomes a major supporter of their relationship. It's very much something that Sokka doesn't expect to happen... but this woman's full of surprises :'D she has changed a lot, really, and she even will acknowledge that, if she hadn't wound up where she is in life, if she had stayed with Ozai all along, she really might have been the nightmare mother Azula thought she'd be, shutting her down and refusing to accept that Azula could love someone so inappropriate for one of her station... but that's not the person Ursa is anymore. She has had some veeeery rude awakenings in life, and that means she grows to value Sokka very very quickly, for she can tell how much he cares about Azula and that their relationship was something wonderful for her daughter, even if Ursa can't quite confirm that with Azula just yet...

How much does she know about her kids... well, she knows more than she lets on, but like I said, she's mostly in denial about it all. So, in part, she kinda knows everything that's public knowledge, but in order to cope with reality she just loses herself in the past and refuses to acknowledge what's going on. So she's not reeeeally lost about everything, but it's only after she accepts reality properly that she can acknowledge her... knowledge? :'D

Her role going forward will be... mysterious (?) Okay, she's going to be a very big help for the group, and she'll be a major supporter of their cause going forward. She'll come and go sometimes, because unfortunately she's not really someone who should be involved in a lot of the dangerous stuff Sokka and his friends will get up to :'D in my sort-of-defense, I've tried to keep her around as often as possible x'D but yeah, can't really excuse it in some situations, so we won't have her around all the time. But one of her roles will also be... to serve us some flashbacks like Ozai does :'D we'll get a few flashbacks from her point of view, the first of which will be in the final chapter of the arc that begins this week. And yeah, when I said she'd be mysterious, I also mean because I'll keep a few things about her in the dark because... I really don't want to reveal EVERYTHING about Ursa to the readers until Azula is ready to learn about the core of it too :'D and as you may imagine... that's going to take A WHILE. So. Yeah.

Ursa isn't going to be a problem going forward, though, she's not going to have an antagonistic role towards our main characters... she's a complicated person who's gone through some reeeeally rough times, who starts trying to do better and be better in order to do right by her children, but who deep down is terribly scarred by the things she's been through (... and the things she's done), to the point where it sometimes paralyzes her and even throws her into downwards spirals. We won't see a lot of those... but we will certainly see that her flashbacks mean something very different than Ozai's do, for in her case, she's basically spent years living in her own memories and trying to build herself a safe place within her mind through those memories, out of fear and rejection of everything that changes around her...

Welp! There goes that explanation :'D I won't lie, I'm eternally shocked by how much I've grown to appreciate her character by writing her... she's always been one of the inclusions of Part 3 that I most looked forward to working with, and I'm really happy to feel that her presence in the story feels so powerful whenever I write her. I hope you guys will be thrilled to see more of her too! Like I said... she's complicated, but that makes her insanely compelling for me to explore as a character xD may it be fun for you guys to see those explorations, once we get there!

#anon #ursa #she has no right to be so compelling to write #but both current-day deeply traumatized Ursa #and flashbacks Ursa #hype me up in ways I never imagined this character could do for me #but really #the biggest thing about her is how her priorities have reorganized themselves #how life has dealt her some reeeally shitty backhands #and in doing so she has also grown to see the world differently #see herself differently #... she's complicated and I'm not even sorry I didn't set out to love her but I do now #*wipes tears*

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rachelillustrates · 11 months

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Thank Gnome it’s Friday!!

With belated posting of mother’s day art drawn for my own Mama as a gift. Hope all parentals of the feminine-presenting variety had a lovely day, and are having another lovely one, now 🥰

Also with ranunculus flowers, meaning “You are radiant with charms.”

(Also also, somewhere along the line I fell out of posting the gift art I do 🤷‍♀️ Leaning in the direction of changing that.)

Bonus art and stories ~ Prints, comics and more!

#thank gnome it's friday #thank gnome its friday #gnomes #gnomecore #faerie #mother's day #tock the gnome #bonus art #indie comics #ooh shiny

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thegreatwarhq · 1 year

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character name & any aliases: cormac hadrian mclaggen

character dob & age: december 22, 2001 || 21

canon or oc: canon

character pronouns/gender identity/romantic & sexual identity: he/him || cis man || bisexual

character faceclaim: jacob elordi

character house/past house if relevant: gryffindor

which school they attended: hogwarts

character alignment in the war/explain if and why it’s changed since the battle: with the order/the D.A., even if it was belated.

where have they been living for the past year: he had intended on returning to the ministry and resuming his position as a junior assistant in the magical games and sports department, and he has been back a few times, but he’s returned to hogwarts quite a few times whenever someone has given him a line or request. he’s quite susceptible to requests for his help. important character

information/bio: cormac graduated from hogwarts having not truly learned much; chugging through his seven years of schooling with the same blunt headed personality and prideful behavior that he’d started with. with plans to do his own grand tour, he’d left to italy nearly the day after, and was several months deep in a riot of hedonism when a letter from his father called him back home. the war was finally touching his family, and all of the things cormac had been able to ignore or dismiss before finally came home to roost. the fact that his mother was a muggleborn was something cormac truthfully didn’t think of too often, taking the lead from his father who had always been dismissive in his own way of. the mclaggens were a nouveau riche sort of family, and blood purity wasn’t a primary motivator for cormac’s father, so much as her beauty and how her well off parents’ muggle money spent.

that there were people in the wizarding world that hated cormac’s mother, who wanted her stripped of her magic or worse, it was something that was only a concept for cormac; a thing he knew to be a fact but no more than that. it was plain as day to him that there wasn’t any difference between muggleborn wizards and purebloods, but the ideology of deatheaters was always just that. theory and text and the sort of thing he never had time for. the fervor over blood purity was almost comical to him, outrageous and over the top in a way that made it somehow less real. in his mind, no one really believe in it that way anymore, right? they were past all that in wizarding society. but all of that blasted away and came into lived experience as he arrived home and saw the wreckage that the deatheaters had brought; a crumbling ruin of the mclaggen estate with worse waiting for him inside.

his father mortally injured, and his mother hit by a curse that was wasting her body away in front of cormac’s eyes. of course, none of this was directly the fault of cormac failing to grow up, but the shock of it was still followed by a weight in his gut of thinking that if only he’d been there or if only he’d been smarter, if only he’d thought -

it took a while and some finangling, but cormac felt a sense of urgency he was ashamed to only feel now when it came to the state of the world, and connecting with his old classmates, who he knew would be on the edge of pushing back against all of it. dumbledore’s army. he probably astonished more than a few people by even showing up at the battle of hogwarts, but he needed to do something, needed to make up for lost time and needed to have skin in the game after his parents, his mother had lost so much.

MUN INFORMATION:

ALIAS/NAME: jesse

AGE: 29

TIMEZONE: cst

#cormac mclaggen app #accepted

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keahcreations · 3 years

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My Instagram

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my-secret-sapphic-lover · 2 years

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11:58 AM

Whomever Comes Across This,

I am back! I was honestly under the impression this account was would you derelict and dead as I moved in in life and school, and yet here I am.

“What event was significant enough to bring you back here, Cecil?” You may be asking.

“Today is me and My Girlfriend’s Two Year Anniversary,” I will soon respond.

Today is me and My Girlfriend’s Two Year Anniversary. I love her more than I ever have before, and yet I am flabbergasted we made it this far.

My Girlfriend is in the closet, and thus so is our relationship. However, it’s hardly a secret from my family and our close friends. Honestly, most people just assume we’re dating in the outside world anyways, and it was a joke for so long that we just pretend it still is when we’re in public.

I digress, while I am here today because of our Two Year Anniversary, I am also here because of something much smaller. Perhaps, however, it is just as meaningful.

It was a text I got. My mother, having access to my calendar (I am a very, busy person and thus I have a calendar detailing all of my professional, academic, and social life I share with my family so we can plan around it) must have caught that today is our anniversary. However, I did not expect a text today. It was quite small, really- barely a pleasantry to many. She said,

“Happy anniversary to you and Your Girlfriend.”

That punctuation exactly, minus the pseudonym, of course.

I don’t know how to describe how it feels to not only have my relationship acknowledged, but celebrated, even if in the most minor and passing of ways. I’m not sure why this is sticking to me so much, emotionally. I could theorize and rhapsodize all day, but I’m honestly not sure. However, it means a lot, and I guess I never thought I would be a person who got this. I’m not quite sure how to verbalize what this is, but I just kind of forgot that this was a thing I could have.

I’ve gone on another tangent, however, and I really need to continue practicing my cello, as I’ve gotten sidetracked from that as well.

I guess, thank you, Mom. And to any of you who may be celebrating anniversaries in secret,

“Happy (belated) Anniverary to You and Your Partner.”

Sincerely,

Cecil

(P.s. I really don’t know how to refer to my girlfriend anymore in these, but I think I’ve outgrown “Froggie” or whatever I used to use. Maybe a comically evil name like “Azazel” or “Abbadon”? Wait- no… that’s what I’ve been naming my Pokémon…)

#sapphic blog #wlw blog #sapphism #asexual #wlw #lgbtq+#wlw community #anniversary

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shamemp3 · 3 years

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top 10 comic hugs

YOU DONT UNDERSTAND THAT IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO NARROW IT DOWN. I LITERALLY FEEL SO BAD FOR THOSE THAT DIDNT MAKE IT.

1. priorities :D

2. I LOVE NOBODY MORE THAN THEMM

3. YOU GET UP EVERY MORNING AND YOU FIGHT AN UNJUST UNIVERSE BECAUSE YOU THINK YOU CAN MAKE A DENT. THAT IS EXACTLY THE LEVEL OF ARROGANCE KIRSTEN AND I WILL ALWAYS TRUST TO PROTECT US

4. i am a simple person

5. this was great zdarsky thank you. now let them unmask

6. CASS AND DUKEEEE

7. what does twelve mean hickman. what does it mean

8. happy belated mothers day i love u

9. I MISS THEM SO MUCHH

10. GOT IT REDD

#EVERYONE THAT DID NOT MAKE IT KNOW THAT YOU ARE STILL A FAVORITE BUT UNFORTUNATELY THE ASK SAID TOP 10.#if michelle made the list for me to choose from no she didnt #THIS WAS SO HARD WTF.#anyways. thanky ou michelle #answered #michelle

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engiinium-a · 3 years

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@ohcrossovers sent: He is nervous, anyone could tell if they looked at the blonde: so comical, who would have thought? Captain America, of all people, this nervous? He holds the frame in his hands, the drawing he had made for Tensei's birthday underneath a shin layer of gift's paper. So, when the other opens the door and his blue eyes immediately lock with the other's, Steve smiles. " Happy birthday, Tensei. "

Tensei’s (belated) birthday!

While he had a lot of his workers come by his office and tell him happy birthday, some offer to go grab drinks with him that night to celebrate, and the typical call from his mother and brother, Tensei acted like the day was just a regular one. He was rather humble about it, always has been and always would be. So, while he wasn’t surprised Steve came by his agency to give him a gift, it still made him rather happy.

“Steve, hey!” He chuckled softly with a grin. He then noticed the gift, blinking and his smile widening. “Thanks, you didn’t have to do anything-!”

He pressed a soft kiss to the captain’s cheek. “Hey, how about we go and grab dinner together, just you and me tonight? I had lunch with my family.”

#[| ic |]#[| muse | tensei |]#tensei ♥ steve > darling so it goes; some things are meant to be < ohcrossovers #[| answered |]

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mymelodyheart · 3 years

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Highland Destiny Chapter 3 ~The Meeting~

James Fraser knew he was doomed when he realised he couldn't shake off the image of the Sassenach. What he thought of as a fleeting attraction had become an obsession that plagued his dreams and waking life. He couldn't stop thinking about her. It's as if when their eyes locked for a brief moment, the stars aligned only to be scrambled again like some cruel joke. Jamie knew it was no longer a matter of choice - he had to find her.

It was a baffling notion that she could simply vanish from the face of the earth without a trace. He made enquiries in and around Inverness and not one of his contacts, emergency institutions nor were any of his friends were able to assist. His last hope in finding the elusive English woman was Mother Hildegarde from St. Agnes, and he planned to visit her later in the hospital. Surely she would know something considering the mystery woman was sleeping under her roof.

Christ Sassenach, where are ye??

..........

It was early Monday morning, and Jamie was jogging back to the distillery. He sprinted the last half-mile in the hope that the exertion would diminish the frustration he was feeling. By the time he reached Frisealach Compound, he had worked up quite a sweat and his secretary, Laoghaire MacKenzie was waiting with a towel in her hand as he came through the door.

"Good morning to ye Jamie, enjoyed yer run?" He was greeted by a beautiful, blonde girl with too much make-up on and a dazzling smile. "I was watching ye from the window running like a mad-man, so I ken ye'd be here soon. I took the towel from your sports bag. Did ye spend the night in the office?" She approached Jamie purposely.

"Aye, and thank ye." Not offering any further explanations, he ignored the seductive look from his secretary and took the towel from her. "Don't ye have anything better to do?" Jamie asked, mildly annoyed and slightly out of breath from running all the way to the fifth floor.

Disregarding the hint of sarcasm, Laoghaire smiled sweetly, "You have some messages, and I left them on your desk. Also, Murtagh called to remind you about the general meeting at 10 today." She reached out to Jamie for the towel. "Here, let me dry your back... ye're soaking."

"That'll be it Laoghaire, thank you." Ignoring her antics, he quickly made his way to his office, shutting the door firmly.

Christ, I need to do something about that woman!

Jamie quickly made a few business calls and arrangements with the bank to donate £50,000 towards the St. Agnes Orphanage's restoration. Next, he grabbed his sports bag and keys and headed back out again.

"See you later. I'm going home to change, and then I'll be at the station for the rest of the morning. Anything important just passed it on to Rupert."

Before Laoghaire could utter a word or react, Jamie was gone.

..........

Claire's first weekend in Inverness started off with a bang, literally. She belatedly discovered that the fire was caused by an exploding furnace. Fortunately, there were no fatalities, and everyone in the orphanage that night made it to safety.

Following the events of that Friday night, Claire made a new friend in the form of Tom Christie, the junior doctor from the paramedic team. She learned that he was employed at the Royal Northern Infirmary, where Joe had taken his residency job. With nowhere else to go after the fire, Tom helped her locate Uncle Lamb's cottage and carried her suitcases into her new home. She was thankful that only a handful of her possessions perished in the blaze as most of her belongings remained in the car when she arrived at St. Agnes.

Claire spent the next two days unpacking, shopping, catching up with her best friend, Joe and visiting Mother Hildegarde in the hospital. Likewise, she visited some of the orphans and nuns injured in the fire. Worried about their plight, she was reassured by a nurse that the orphans were rehomed temporarily across the Highlands until St. Agnes is restored. This was comforting news!

The remainder of her Sunday was spent at home unwinding and was pleasantly surprised when Tom popped in for a quick visit bearing a bunch of flowers and a basket of preserves from his sister's shop.

"Ach, it's nothing. Just a wee house warming gift and my way of saying thank ye for helping the other night," Tom explained, after giving Claire a quick awkward hug.

What a sweet gesture, Claire later thought as she got ready for bed. With that in mind, she dozed off, feeling confident that all will be well. And that night she dreamt of Frank whispering to her, "Yes darling, all will definitely be well. Hush now and sleep."

..........

Monday morning, Claire got up early to get a good head start at work. She had been previously instructed by a Mrs Henderson to come before 10 am in time for a joint general meeting between Scottish Ambulance Service and the Inverness Fire Department. Mr Fitzgibbons, the Head Fire Officer, wanted her to meet the whole team, including the volunteers with whom she will be working closely with in the future.

"Easy day on Monday Ms Beauchamp. I'm tae inform ye that yer first day will be familiarising yersel' with your surroundings and colleagues unless of course, we have some emergency. Yer official first day of work will be Wednesday when Mr McCoy goes on holiday so that will give ye plenty of time to organise yersel'," A woman explained over the phone.

That's no brain surgery! Pretty straight-forward enough, Claire thought.

But Monday didn't turn out to be as straight-forward. First, Claire's unruly locks refused to cooperate, so she tied it in the messy bun. Then her car keys were misplaced and spent 15 minutes looking for them. Then halfway to the Fire Station, her car over-heated and had to wait for roadside assistance to take it away for repair. Luckily enough, Tom was driving by and happily gave her a lift to the station before heading for work.

Claire arrived at 9:55 am to be exact. She thanked Tom and hurriedly made her way through the station. To her dismay, Claire realised the meeting had started. She followed the sound of the voice, addressing a room, and it led her to the back of the building.

Right at the very end of the corridor, Claire saw an open door and peeked through. There were approximately 30 men assembled around the tables arranged in U-shape. At the head of the gathering, was a brown-haired man with a thick beard, doing a roll call. She surmised that it must be Mr Fitzgibbons.

Before stepping in, Claire checked her attire: everyday blue jeans, a white shirt, black leather jacket and white sneakers. She smoothed her hair and realised not much can be done. That will have to do Beauchamp... nothing fancy, just like one of the guys.

"Beauchamp!" the voice called out. The men in the room glanced around to determine who Beauchamp was. No answer. Meanwhile, Claire was unaware her name was called. She was too preoccupied smoothing her curly locks as she stood out of view from behind the door.

"Beauchamp, are ye here?!" the voice called out for the second time, this time almost shouting.

Claire finally heard her name called. Come on Beauchamp you can do this! She took big deep breaths and stepped into the room. "I'm right here," she announced loudly if not a bit croaky.

Almost all the men gave a start, chairs making squeaking and screeching sounds caused by a sudden movement of turning when a feminine voice answered. Sweet Mother of Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! There was a long silence, and a wide-eyed Claire stood frozen on the spot as she absorbed the room's shocked countenance. Appreciative stares, wolf-whistles and "oooohhhs-and-aaaahhhs" ensued after what seems like an eternity of speechlessness much to Claire's disconcertion. She wanted to back away out through the door and run.

"Hey Hugh, is the lady my belated stag-do pressie?" a voice shouted from the back. The room howled with laughter. Cor blimey, we have a jester in the house...just absolutely fucking great!

Ignoring the comic and the boisterous reaction, Claire gathered as much bravado she can muster and took a few more deep breaths. Aware every eye in the room was on her, she squared her shoulders and spoke, "Good morning, everyone, I'm Claire Beauchamp." Clearing her throat, she continued, "I'm terribly sorry that I'm late...my car broke down on my way here."

The room calmed down when she spoke, and there were shuffles and murmurs, as the men turned to listen. Thereupon, a man with the beard walked over to her and extended his hand. "Hello Claire, I'm Murtagh Fitzgibbons. Call me, Murtagh. And, erm, welcome to Inverness and welcome to our team." His arms made an extensive motion to the room.

Claire took the extended hand, but before she could say a word, Murtagh, said, "Take a seat." Awkward!

Somewhat still flustered and annoyed, Claire looked around for an empty chair. In her peripheral vision, a very tall man with auburn hair stood up and pulled out a seat next to him. "Hey Claire, over here," Ginger gestured to the vacancy next to him with sweeping arms. She spun in his direction and glanced up. Her gaze locked with a very amused pair of familiar, blue eyes. Oh my stars and garters, it's the bloody Scot!

Reluctantly, Claire made her way to the offered seat and nodded. "Thank you!" She flashed a vain effort of her best smile, hoping to conceal her agitations.

Before Claire could sit, suddenly, Ginger's hand extended towards her. "Hello, Sassenach! I'm James Fraser, or ye can call me Jamie if ye wish." Ah, Ginger has a name! She peered up at the grinning face. "Listen, lass, dinna mind these loons - they may look scary, but truly, we're all a friendly bunch here," Jamie explained in the way of an apology, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Standing next to Jamie, Claire felt petite with her 5'7 height. Her eyes were almost at the same level as the hollow base of his throat. Up close, she couldn't help but be very aware of the broad expanse of his shoulders as her gaze involuntarily drifted to his collarbones and, damn, he smelled like he just came out of the shower. He was wearing a white shirt that clung to him like a second skin and stretched precariously tight across his well-muscled chest. Avoiding his gaze, Claire quickly shook his hand, but as their hands touched, she felt an electric jolt bolt through her body in waves and swirls. Attempting to ignore the unsettling sensations, she responded, "Hi, nice to meet you too." Then she glanced up and saw Jamie staring too intently for her own comfort.

"Oy Fraser, smooth move" one of the men shouted, making Claire snap out from her reverie. The whole room erupted in laughter. Oh, crikey, here we go again!

"Aye, ye can learn a thing or two on how to be a gentleman," Jamie countered back laughing and threw a crushed paper at the direction of the joker.

Another joined in the teasing, "Gentleman my arse! The Frasers are just tae quick when it comes to pretty lasses. Ye're yer father's son, Jamie lad. My da tol' me how yer da, Brian stole the Mckenzie lass right under my uncle's nose!"

Everyone roared with laughter, and even the dour-looking Murtagh found the outburst hilarious. More banter and hilarity ensued.

Grateful for the distraction, Claire hurriedly sat down. She said "Thank you," again to Jamie and felt rather stupid for doing so. She lowered her head to hide the heat creeping up her face, as she busied herself, arranging her satchel on the table and taking out a pen and notepad.

"Right, that's enough. Everyone wheesht! So, are we all quite done here yet?" Murtagh hollered, "If so, let's get on with it. Aye?" Although the laughter ceased, you can still hear a few sniggering here and there.

Calm restored, Murtagh proceeded with the meeting. Drawing his attention again! back to Claire, much to her dismay, he asked, "Right, Beauchamp, which one is it officially, Randall or Beauchamp? I have several papers here with two different names."

Claire's face turned crimson. "It's Beauchamp. Randall is my late husband's name. Oh and by the way, just call me Claire."

Jamie nudged her arms lightly with his elbow, and he whispered with a cocked eyebrow, "Sorcha!" followed by a feeble attempt at a wink. Claire frowned, not understanding and she mouthed Shush at Jamie.

"Verra weel, Claire Beauchamp it is. Or simply Claire" Murtagh declared. Flipping through more papers, Murtagh added, "Oh hang on a minute, I omitted to inform ye lads. It's actually Dr Beauchamp. She is joining the paramedic team for a year while she is on sabbatical. And if I were ye, ye better be in yer best behaviour. I hear Dr Beauchamp is quite handy with the scalpel, her being a neurosurgeon and all."

That revelation was followed by laughter, impressed nods, Jamie patting her hand, and more wolf whistles, much to Claire's chagrin. All she could do in response was offer a weak smile and shrug.

Murtagh smiled at her and continued, "Moving along..." Oh, sour-face can smile after all!

Even though the proceedings had moved on to other matters, Claire had difficulty focusing. She couldn't decide whether to blame it on Jamie's closeness or on the boisterous banter from earlier. Her concentration was further disrupted as Jamie scooted closer, his knees brushing against hers. He tapped her on the elbow with a pen and whispered, "Hey Sassenach, so ye're a Neurosurgeon, eh?"

She nodded, her eyes fixed on Murtagh. Jamie clearing his throat, spoke again in a low voice. "Hey Sassenach, did ye recognise me from Friday night...ye ken, the fire at St. Agnes? 'Twas me who carried ye out when ye fainted."

Claire quickly glanced sideways to say something but got diverted at the sight of bulging muscles of his forearm as he leaned close, both elbows pitched on the table. The view made her mind wander afresh to imagining how Jamie would look like without his shirt. The thought made her swallow a lump forming in her throat. Catching herself, she shook her head, as if the mere act of doing so would dismiss all silly thoughts. Determined more than ever, Claire redoubled her effort to solely focus on Murtagh.

Unperturbed by her lack of response, Jamie nudged her knees with his. "Well?" he urged." Did ye or did ye not?"

"Shush ..." She gave Jamie a warning look and feigned annoyance, but to no avail. It only made him scoot his chair closer until both their arms were grazing.

Claire realised Jamie wasn't about to give up. So she looked at him with the sternest expression she can muster, pointed a pen towards Murtagh and mouthed to him, Later ok? Eventually, he conceded and acknowledged with a nod. Relieved, Claire mouthed thank you and was rewarded with the most beautiful smile she's ever seen upon any man's face. Oh, sweet Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, the man's bloody gorgeous. Defeated, Claire gave in to this renewed distraction and daydreamed leaning forward to kiss the indentation on Jamie's chin.

The meeting lasted for two hours, and the only thing Claire could think of was her growing attraction towards Jamie. And little did she know, he was in the same predicament.

#melodyheart #highlanddestiny #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

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dyketectivecomics · 4 years

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Some Notes™️ I forgot to jot down last night:

With the amount of friction btwn Kon n Tim abt how Tim handles the team & his leadership n all... I mean I can see em more as Rivals to Friends to Lovers eventually if ur gonna go that route but and yet I’ve never seen that take from the fandom?? It’s very, hmm, maybe bc I’m missing context from later comics, but it’s just a little odd to me

I’ve decided to Stan Helena Sandsmark. And that she is also my new mom. Happy belated Mother’s Day, mom!!!

#randy reads yj #like the further development of this team and the friction thats brewing while tims leadership ability comes into question? love it #the fact that arrowette is stepping down but doesnt want to step AWAY from her friends???? LOVE IT #secret finally learning WHAT the hell happened???#HELENA BEING A GOOD MOM EVEN TO CISSIE I CRY YALL #anyways a LOTS happened and i love it to pieces

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ditherwings · 4 years

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Magic Trick—A Good Omens Secret Santa Gift Fic

This is my belated GO Secret Santa gift for @hardly-functioning-morals! I’m sorry it’s late, but hope you like it!

Sorry about the odd formatting; I had to post this on mobile, and it came out a bit wonky. I expect I’ll cross post this to AO3 once I have a chance, and clean it up. My account there is bastet_in_april.

***

Magic Trick

by bastet_in_april (ditherwings), for hardly-functioning-morals

Aziraphale had always developed fascinations for peculiarly specific bits of human culture, and Crowley usually enjoyed indulging even the ones that he found a bit odd. What was the draw in Regency-period silver snuff boxes, for instance? It wasn’t as though Aziraphale had any particular use for them--he didn’t use snuff, and so had no reason to wish for a dainty container as a means to carry the stuff about in a pocket. Crowley saw little interest in collecting ancient leather-bound first editions with cracked spines and dusty pages, either. He didn’t read, he liked to insist, and, if that was a lie, then surely glossy coffee table books full of remarkable photos were more his style.

Still, Crowley loved to indulge Aziraphale’s fascinations. He enjoyed the excitement on his face as he examined a new find for his bookshop, turning the pages carefully with gloved hands. He loved the surprise on Aziraphale’s face when Crowley present him with a beautifully engraved little snuffbox, with mother-of-pearl inlay. He loved the way Aziraphale would expound on the delights of a new patisserie shop, and the way his eyes would roll up ever so slightly at the ecstasy of a perfectly prepared piece of nigirizushi.

Stage magic, though, was where Crowley drew the line.

It had happened while Crowley was asleep. In 1871, an up-and-coming stage magician named Alexander Herrmann parted ways with his brother Carl, in order to establish his reputation via a solo act. While Carl continued to tour Europe, Alexander headed for London.

In 1871, Aziraphale was still an angry, terrified recluse. It had been nine years since his fateful meeting with Crowley in St. James’s Park. He hadn’t seen Crowley since their argument, and he wasn’t sure whether he was more likely to dissolve into tears or shouting if he saw Crowley again, or, frighteningly, if he didn’t. So he stayed in his shop, fretfully conditioning old leather bindings and being increasingly curt with the few customers who dared cross the shop’s threshold. Perhaps the neighborhood noticed. Perhaps it was a concerned neighbor who thought that odd Mr. Fell really ought to get out of that dusty old shop more often who slipped the advertisement under the shop’s door. Perhaps it was simply a paperboy who’d been paid a bit extra to distribute the fliers. Perhaps it was chance. Perhaps it was ineffable.

Regardless, Aziraphale picked up the flier and was charmed and arrested by the image of the thin man with the goatee and curling mustache, dressed smartly in a black tailcoat and brandishing a magic wand. “Herrmann the Great!” it proclaimed. “Master of the Magical Arts! Now Performing at the Egyptian Hall!” The man was surrounded by whirling petals, playing cards, and doves in flight, and comically outlandish cartoon demons peered from the edges of the playbill to marvel at the magician.

Helpless, Aziraphale’s first thought was that this was exactly the sort of show Crowley would love--a perfect chance to see humanity’s remarkable capacity for imagination at work, while the demon snarked and snickered into his hand at the feats of “magic,” from where he sprawled into his seat. Aziraphale crushed that thought down into something small and sad, like a crumpled ball of paper, and tucked it neatly away. He took a deep breath. There was no reason not to attend the show on his own. He couldn’t hide in his shop forever, as the world continued to move around him. And perhaps Crowley would have the same thought, and Aziraphale might yet see him in the crowd at the Egyptian Hall, heckling the performer and downing expensive wine.

So it was that Aziraphale found himself in a packed theater, its ceiling bedecked with pseudo-Egyptian frescoes complete with strings of artistic renderings of hieroglyphic text (having resided in Egypt for a time during the Ramesside period, and categorically unable to resist reading anything with words on it, if it was within view, Aziraphale was rather bemused to find that the hieroglyphs on the column to the left of him read, “your mother keeps house with water buffalo, and your father smells of lotus root”). Aziraphale was disappointed not to spot a familiar shock of red hair, or a distinctively sauntering gait, amongst the theatergoers.

The crowd buzzed with excitement as Herrmann took the stage, looking theatrically dapper in a tailcoat and tophat, and slightly malevolent, with his goatee and curled moustache like a villain from a penny dreadful. He produced a deck of cards, seemingly from thin air, fanning them out in flourishes, conjuring them from audience members’ pockets, and then turning them into an explosion of colorful ribbons that streamed through the air. Aziraphale felt himself get drawn into the show, as pieces of set dressing--grand fruit trees, ruby-colored lamps, even a burbling fountain--appeared in puffs of incense-scented purple or green smoke. The crowd gasped in wonder or shock, as Herrmann unveiled each new wonder. He produced a dove from a woman’s evening glove, making her laugh with delight. To the surprise of the crowd a rabbit leaped from his tophat, after he tapped it twice with his wand. The onlookers erupted into delighted laughter, as the conjurer tried and failed to convince it to return to his hat, finally turning it into a monogrammed handkerchief, instead. Aziraphale marvelled quietly at the ingenuity of humans, to create miracles of their own. This was so different from the times he had witnessed angelic miracles being performed before crowds of humans. That had been a thing of terror, each witnessing mortal made small and helpless before the gaze of Michael or Gabriel. The magician, conjuring marvels and wielding powers the crowd did not comprehend, instead welcomed them into the experience with humor and charm, sharing the wonder of it with them, and delighting in their reactions.

Aziraphale thought again of Crowley, and bit his lip.

The magician waded a bit further into the crowd, pulling a shiny coin from behind a boy’s ear, and offering him the prize. He paused before Aziraphale, and doffed his silk top hat, offering it to Aziraphale, “You, good sir! Look into my hat! Can you confirm for the crowd that it is empty?” Aziraphale stood, peering into the hat, before agreeing for the rest of the audience that it was empty, and an ordinary hat, as far as he could perceive. “Thank you! Now I see by the lines of care and worry upon your brow that something troubles you, so I have the spirits to deliver a wonder to set your heart at ease. The imps and spectres have told me that what you fear shall not come to pass! Now, reach into this empty hat, and see the wonder the demon has delivered as a sign!”

Aziraphale reached into the silk hat, and felt his hand close around a smooth, round shape. He pulled forth a perfect, shining red apple.

***

Mrs. and Mr. Device were celebrating their anniversary by going on a short trip to the seaside, and needed a babysitter to look after six-year-old Magrat. Adam and the Them had each been given due consideration as potential sitters, but it was nearing end-of-term at school, and university applications and exams were making the teens look increasingly unglued. While Madame Tracey might be trusted with a small child, both parents agreed that Witchfinder Sergeant Shadwell (retired) was a last resort, only in case of impending apocalypse, option. So, after some deliberation, and after Anathema’s cousin had begged off due to plans involving concert tickets, the professional descendant (retired) and witch (current) rang up Crowley’s mobile.

Crowley always sounded hunted when he answered his mobile, as if he were a bit worried about whose voice might be on the other, but was pretending at nonchalance. “Yeah, who’s this?” he asked. “Anathema Device,” Anathema answered.

“Book Girl!” Crowley exclaimed, relaxing. He’d attended her wedding, and known her for years, but some nicknames stuck. She rolled her eyes.

“Are you and Aziraphale free on Thursday evening? Newt and I are going on a day trip, and need someone to look after Magrat while we’re away.”

“And you thought you’d ask a demon to babysit?”

“I thought I’d ask my friend. Don’t pretend you don’t adore babysitting her. She told me that you read her stories, last time, and did all the voices.”

“What can I say, she’s a little hellion. What’s not to love?” Crowley hummed thoughtfully. “Give me a moment.” There was a pause in which Anathema could hear Crowley having a murmured conversation with Aziraphale, before Crowley lifted the mobile again, voice coming through clear and audible. “Sure, we can take her for the day. You two kids go have some fun.”

Anathema breathed a soft exhalation of relief. Promise secured, she began to let Crowley know exactly what he was in for.

***

Magrat Device did not want a babysitter. She was very certain that she should be allowed to stay up late on her own, thank you very much. She knew how to work a microwave, and had her parents on speed dial, and wouldn’t eat ice cream for dinner (honest!).

Her parents disagreed, which was why Crowley and Aziraphale were currently poring over a takeout menu, on her parents’ couch, trying to determine what one might order in to feed a six year old.

Anathema and Newt had named their daughter Magrat because Anathema knew the value, to a growing child, of being able to read one’s name in a book. Newt was pleased that this book, at least, while full of witches, fools, kings, and mistaken identity, did not involve an apocalypse.

It wasn’t that Magrat didn’t like spending time with Crowley and Aziraphale. The last time they had babysat her, they had gone to the park and Aziraphale had showed her how to feed the ducks, and Crowley had gotten her an ice cream, and then they had gone home and read from her favorite book--the one that had her name in it. But, the thing was, that had been when Magrat was five. Now, Magrat was six, and that was different. Six was grown up. Six year olds didn’t need babysitters, because six year olds weren’t babies.

“What would you like to eat, dear girl?” Aziraphale asked. “Is a curry too spicy? Or would you like some of the smoked trout and quiche from that lovely little cafe down the street.”

Magrat scowled, shoulders hunched up near her ears. “I don’t want anything to eat.”

“You’re a growing child. Can’t you try to eat something?” The angel looked pleadingly at her. “It’s alright if you don’t finish it, but I shouldn’t like to think of you going hungry.”

Magrat shook her head stubbornly.

“Tell you what,” Crowley said. “How about we order a sampler of a few things, and if anything piques your interest, you can try some of it. If not? Well, we’ll just leave the leftovers for your parents--save them having to cook tomorrow.”

When the takeaway arrived, it smelled enticingly of saffron, spices, butter, and fresh bread. Magrat stubbornly turned away, even as her stomach growled.

“Right,” Crowley decided, clapping his hands and straightening up out of his artful sprawl. “I know you don’t want to be babysat. Why would you? You aren’t a baby, and babysitting just sounds a bit demeaning. Or painful. The thing is, though, we aren’t just your babysitters, Magrat.” He tilted his head down to meet her hazel-colored eyes. She could just catch a glimpse of his bright yellow ones beneath the dark lenses of the sunglasses. “You’re a witch, so we’re your magic babysitters. Like when Hagrid took Harry Potter to Diagon Alley for school supplies.”

Magrat came slowly out of her slouch, considering this. “You’re not magic, though,” she argued. “Not like wizards, or witches, anyway. You’re an angel and a demon. You don’t have magic wands, or pointy hats, or cauldrons. You don’t pull rabbits out of hats. You might as well just be boring old regular babysitters, like Wensleydale or Auntie Sue.”

Aziraphale perked up, looking triumphant. “Oh, you think so, do you?” he asked. “Find me a hat, my dear, and we shall see!”

Crowley groaned. “Oh, angel, please not that. If she wants a rabbit, just miracle one up! Don’t you remember what happened last time? This is going to end in cream cake stains and tears--mostly mine--you mark my words.”

Aziraphale smiled serenely. “Nonsense, my dear. Now, Magrat, a hat, please?”

Magrat pulled a baseball cap from where it had been tossed onto the end of one of the umbrellas in the stand by the door. “It’s not the right kind,” she said.

“Oh, any hat will do. Now, I want you to check that it’s empty.” Magrat reached into the hat, feeling only the canvas material it was made from. “It’s empty,” she confirmed, interested in spite of herself.

“Right, now I need a magic wand.” Aziraphale looked around himself, as if expecting one might conveniently appear. It didn’t, so Azirphale snatched up a fork from the bag of takeaway on the table. He puffed out his chest, and cleared his throat theatrically. “Abracadabra expecto patronum bibbity bobbity expelliarmus!” The angel tapped the slightly rumpled baseball cap three times with his magic fork, and then picked it up and put it on his head. He wiggled his fingers, his eyes theatrically wide.

Magrat leaned forward, despite herself. Crowley covered his face with his hand.

With a dramatic, “Ta da!” Aziraphale whipped the cap off of his head and presented it to his audience. “One rabbit, as ordered!”

There was a pause. Aziraphale looked into the still-empty hat with bewilderment. Magrat and Crowley, however, were unable to tear their eyes away from the furry, bewhiskered little bunny rabbit that was perched comfortably amidst Aziraphale’s fluffy curls. His little pink nose twitched.

Slowly, Aziraphale’s eyes turned upwards towards his hairline, and he yelped, and made a grab for the rabbit, which leapt off of his head acrobatically and right onto the table, upturning the dish of eclairs, sending them flying through the air.

“What did I tell you?” Crowley asked, snapping his fingers. The eclairs settled back onto the plate on the table. And the rabbit was rather confused, but ultimately pleased, to suddenly find itself in the middle of a heavily guarded and carefully fortified garden of prize-winning vegetables (inciting wrath and suspicion of sabotage in the gardener, when he discovered the ensuing damage).

“Mmphghhahaha,” a peculiar half-strangled noise escaped Magrat’s mouth, like the first bit of water springing through the crack in a dam, presaging the deluge. She laughed until she had tears running down her face. Aziraphale, his face softening from bewildered shock to delight and fondness, laughed with her. Crowley, despite himself, let go of his second-hand embarrassment to join them.

The real magic trick, Aziraphale would explain to Crowley after the angel, the demon, and Magrat had finished their dinner, and demolished a respectable number of chocolate eclairs, was not pulling the rabbit from the hat. The real magic was surprise, wonder, and laughter.

#good omens #fanfiction #good omens fic #GoodOmensSecretSanta #aziraphale #crowley #stage magic #ineffable babysitters

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agallimaufryofoddments · 4 years

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[YP] Baccano! Vol 12 Release Notes

I know, I know, release day was on December 24, 2019 yet I'm posting this on the 27th... Sorry this post is a bit belated; life, you know.

Relevant Wiki Poll: For those of you who use the wiki... Once upon the time the wiki used to have one article for each cruise ship (Entrance and Exit) in this arc; now, however, it currently has one (underdeveloped) article on both ships. Do you think it would be more useful to have one article per ship, or is having one article on both ships sufficient?

I've set up a twitter poll on the Baccano! Wiki's Twitter account here, so please do vote in the poll if you're on Twitter! If you're not on Twitter, lemme know in a reply? Thanks!

Yen Press webpage: Hardcover | Digital

My release notes are under the cut; for those unaware, my release notes typically include notes on official name spellings and notable differences or discrepancies between the official and fan TLs (i.e. factual changes).

Note: I first post these notes on /r/Baccano and am copying them here via Markdown. Have tried to make sure formatting carries over, but apologies if I miss something.

Release Notes

Official Spellings

Character Names/Nicknames

Jacuzzi's great-grandson is Bobby Splot, and Bobby has nicknamed his friends Tall, Humpty, and Troy.

Carnea is spelled as is; we'll have to wait for Vol 13 for surname spelling.

The siblings' names are once again Claudia and Charon. Claudia has nicknamed the animatronic shark Sharkey.

'Once again' in that they were mentioned by name in Durarara!!x8, which YP has translated.

The filmmaker's name is confirmed John Drox.

This is also the spelling used in Durarara!!x4.

The four great weapons are called the Four Afflictions at one point and consist of Illness, Aging, Life, and Death.

The drug cartel's sniper is Angelo; Angelo is occasionally dubbed 'Gunslinger' by other characters. Meanwhile the freelancing demolisher he works with is alternatively referred to as the demolition specialist and demolition guy.

Angelo's son's name is confirmed Carlos.

This Carlos is likely the same Carlos who serves as a member of Etsusa Bridge's cast. Carlos actually predates Angelo, since his debut novel came out in 2004 whereas Baccano! Vol 12 was published in 2007.

The two mercenaries who obtain Charon's autograph are Kevin and Baum.

The group they work for, the Mask Makers, are also referred to as the 'businessmen' in the narrative.

The divorced couple's names are confirmed Misao and Hiroko.

The captain of the Entrance has his named spelled Folk Connor.

I believe the F.T. version of his name was Falk Corner.

The mastermind refers to themself as Copycat.

Other Names

The two cruise ships' names, Entrance and Exit, are named as such in the sense of "Entrance to paradise" and "Exit from the ordinary" respectively.

The casino on Entrance is called Fontana di Trevi.

The major movie distributor which will distribute the film Drox and the Walkens are filming is the McDannell Company.

Durarara!!x4 spells it 'McDonnell', not 'McDannell', and I believe the F.T. of Vol 12 used 'McDonnell' as well.

Naritaverse note: the McDonnell Company has ties to the American Jack-o'-Lantern talent agency whose Japanese branch Max Sandshelt heads in Drrr!!. John Drox has hired Kasuka Heiwajima (Drrr!! character) for quite a few of his films.

The film Claudia and Charon are promoting is Shark Flight, sequel to John Drox's Mode Gears movie based off the Mode Gears comic series.

Claudia's character is named Aisha, while Charon is the physical stuntman/'actor' for the Gear. Aisha's mother's name is spelled Carrie, not Kari.

Claudia's films other mentioned by name:

Attack of the Killer Edisons

The Wild Dog in the Wind (Angelo's favorite)

Czes simply refers to Firo as Firo, not something like 'big brother Firo'.

"The world had dubbed her 'Claudia-of-All-Trades," apparently.

The twin luxury ships' scheduled meeting event in the Pacific Ocean is referred to as the Crossing, not the Meeting.

Claudia calls Firo 'Uncle Firo', but Charon sadly refers to Keith not as 'Uncle Keith' but 'Mr. Keith' in the official TL. Tragic.

Claudia also refers to her great-grandparents as Great-Grandmother and Great-Grandfather Felix, which was a bit more formal than I was expecting.

Angelo calls Firo 'Firo', not 'Mr. Prochainezo.'

The Mask Makers refer to their leader as 'president'.

General Notes

I believe the fan TL indicates that the restaurant in Prologue 1 is in the "very south of South America," but the official TL isn't that specific. In other words, there's no indication as to what geographical area of S. America the restaurant is in.

The fan TL states that Illness and Death swing from the northeast and northwest sides of the room, but the official TL states they swing from the southeast and northwest sides.

Minor tidbit, but the businessmen yell the following to Angelo--"Quit talking like the hero in Contract to Kill!" instead of, "Stop acting like you're Chuck Norris in Hitman!"

Re: Angelo's thoughts on the Demolisher--sorry, the 'demolition guy--in Prologue 2: The official TL makes it sound as if the demolition specialist helped out the drug cartel once or twice a year during big conflicts rather than him and Angelo mutually helping each other out a few times.

Can I just call him the Demolisher anyway? Thanks.

Engel has once again converted metric units into Imperial units:

The dimensions of Exit in metric units: length 306m; height 55m; 52m wide

The dimensions as given by Engel: full length 1,004 feet; total height 180', total width 171'.

Time confusion? Maybe someone can help me out with this: while waiting to board the Entrance, Firo internally notes that Maiza and Czes returned from their search around half a month ago (fan TL says two weeks). In his subsequent flashback to the TV scene and Czes returning later that night, he remembers blurting to Czes, "Well, get this! Just a couple weeks ago, on the day you and Maiza came back..." ...and we soon flash back to the present, two weeks (and one day) later.

So...wait, wouldn't it be 4 weeks/a little over a month since the day of Maiza and Czes' return instead of half a month? Maiza & Czes return/Firo befriends photographer -- "couple weeks pass" -- TV day + "let's go on a family trip" -- next day Molsa presents tickets -- "two weeks pass." ????

Am I missing something, or did Narita accidentally confuse himself here?

I guess we have to assume Firo/Narita meant to say 'a month ago' rather than 'half a month ago', given the two weeks -> [family trip decision -> two weeks apparent sequence of events. However, does that conflict with anything else we know about the timeline? Maiza stops to visit Begg in NJ in Aug 2002 when he and Czes are on their way back to NY, so the day of their return/Firo befriending photographer must have also happened in August. But the Entrance is also departing in August, so...

So...maybe Maiza and Czes returned at the very beginning of August, and Entrance is departing at its tail end? That might work. Actually it sounds pretty likely when one remembers the mastermind is trying to recreate the Flying Pussyfoot incident.

I guess the alternative is Narita did mean half a month and only mean for two weeks to pass between the trip proposition and departure, but that would mean Maiza and Czes came back shortly before the trip proposition...so...moving on...

The official TL phrases a line as "many of [Felix Walken's] children and grandchildren] rather than "[Claire's[ descendants," so I guess it's confirmed Claire had more than one kid.

The amount of chips Firo garners while gambling is worth a hundred thousand dollars.

The official TL specifies that the mansion in Illness' flashback to when she was nine-years-old is "European-style," though I guess this info doesn't actually help narrow down the location.

Claudia's declaration to Illness in the fan TL, "If you need to kill someone, I'll kill them for you," is different in the official TL: "When it's time to kill you, I'll do it myself."

MISC

It probably goes without saying that Misao's (and Firo's) photographer friend lives next to Mikado from Drrr!!, right?

For those who might not have caught it or realized, Firo's offhand mention of how he and Luck once crushed a syndicate in Mexico over fifty years ago is a reference to the plot of the second audio drama *Firo Prochainezo Witnesses the 53rd Death of Pietro Gonzalez, which takes place in Summer 1936.

This isn't so much a release note as it is an idle observation I had while reading the official TL... Illness 'justifying' or 'rationalizing' her actions as the result of a sickness/'abnormal self' (even while trying to be 'human') sort of seems opposite to Yakumo's rationalization process in Etsusa Bridge (wherein he's obsessed with normalcy and insists that he is normal and him killing is normal). Anyone else get that sense?

"One, yet legion."

Here's the official TL's take on the chanting Illness hears on the phone:

"Death is a neighbor to be feared. Life is kin to be dreaded. Agony abides with light...fury and shame dwell in shadow...in their illustrious presence, I simply...consume a single leaf from the garden..."

Not too many notes this time around, I think. Partly because 2002-A is on the shorter side, but also because the fan TL was pretty close to the official TL overall. For now I'll just post what I have and not go into quotes I liked a lot since I have things to do and this post is already a couple days late...

Oh, right! Since this is the novel where Claudia and Charon's famous "comic book creator" father is mentioned, I'm going to link to this post (Tumblr version here) I wrote 9 months back in which I conducted a little investigation into where the JP wiki got the name "Clifford Walken" (possibly the dad in question) from. Might be worth checking out if you missed it? Speaking of Claudia and Charon's dad, what are the chances he's the creator of the Mode Gears comic series? I wouldn't be surprised.

#Baccano!#Baccano #YP Release Notes #Baccano! spoilers #for Vol 12 obviously

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primrooks · 5 years

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Wands of a Feather: An Elena of Avalor/Sofia the First Crossover

[Chapter 1] AO3 link here! *This was a chonker of a chapter, so I had to split certain events into two. There's still a lot to come, cuz it's gonna be one packed weekend for our two magic boys. Chapter 2: The Conjurer’s Conference

“With each deed performed, for better or worse, a power is granted, a blessing or curse.”

Cedric repeated the words in his head as he finished drying off his face and replaced the towel by the washbasin. Weeks had passed since he last thought about the Amulet of Avalor; odd how some years-long obsessions could simmer like a soaked bonfire.

In one corner of the room, Quarry, his new eagle-owl familiar, still dozed soundlessly in his perch, peaceful as could be. Back when Cedric was scouring the local aviaries trying to find a suitable new companion, Quarry endeared himself immediately with his permanently-set scowl. The owl himself was actually very sweet and made for an eager assistant, but the dark brow lines extending from his ear tufts always made him look comically offended. The sorcerer smiled and scratched softly at Quarry’s black-and-white crest, knowing that he would be up soon. They had one more round of practice before the Tri-Kingdom showcase that afternoon, although by all means they were ready to give their audience a good show. But Cedric hoped, against all rational thought, that he wouldn’t run into that Mateo boy again. He was still annoyed at himself for that graceless display of shock when he realized the boy’s identity, but then he had to get carried away and introduce himself on top of that. As if the boy wouldn’t have heard from Princess Elena about the Amulet of Avalor’s history, including some of its less-than-rightful holders. He was fortunate enough that they’d parted ways soon after, and that Mateo didn’t recognize him instantly. Perhaps Princess Elena ultimately didn’t register Cedric as a threat. All of the ruckus from the last Conjurer’s Conference happened after she had been freed from the Amulet, and Sofia told him that she was keeping correspondence with her, though the Avaloran princess was understandably rather occupied in other matters. Yet if there was anyone who could spin his story in a positive light, there was no one else whom he trusted more. But that told him nothing about what Mateo might think of him, and how the young lad would feel about someone like Cedric being stationed so close to his country’s most valuable magical artifact. He thought that this year would be a nice do-over of last year’s fiasco, but now all he wanted to do was get through this conference without a hitch and return to his tower in Enchancia. He’d just put on his robe when Quarry flew up to the crook of his left arm. The owl hooted hesitantly, his amber eyes curious and alert. Cedric smirked, recalling how Sofia described Quarry’s voice and speech patterns as boyish, even though he was an adult bird. Even without magical animal speech, Cedric could gather that his familiar was nervous; today would be the first time he’d assist in a magic show in front of an audience. “Let’s not get cold talons now,” he admonished. Quarry replied with a quieter hoot. “I’ve been there before many, many times, and I will say... I can’t guarantee that it’ll go perfect.” The owl gave a fearful “H-hoo?” “But I know you’ll be marvelous, Quarry,” said Cedric, stroking his crest again, right up to the sweet spot on Quary’s head. If a bird of prey could somehow purr, he had no doubt Quarry would’ve done so. It surprised Cedric how quickly they had taken to each other, especially with all the bitterness left in the wake of Wormwood’s betrayal. But he knew that Quarry was his chance to start anew, to once again have a companion he could trust with his work and his life. “Now come along, we’ve still got an hour left before the show starts,” he reminded him. Quarry gave a trilling hoot, flying in place as Cedric went over to his armoire to collect the rest of his supplies. The conference site was about a twenty-minute walk from their villa, but outside was a perfect balance of blue sky and cloud cover. Hopefully the rest of the weekend would carry on with that same clement level of pleasantness. +++ Mateo had painted in his mind what the Conjuror’s Conference would look like once he finally stepped through the gated entrance, and the real thing didn’t disappoint. The spacious front lawn of the estate was already packed with stalls touting charms, familiar care kits, designer robes, sample wands, and enchanted toys and art pieces. Further down the lawn, the air grew rich with the heady scent of rare herbs and incense pots, and several stalls were just focused on selling gardening supplies for the aspiring apothecary. There were even a couple of sigil tattoo stands, showing off elegant designs of mystical animals, constellations and summoning circles. Mateo didn’t even have any interest in getting one, but he was still intrigued to see what designs were popular. He knew his mamá would have given him some serious side-eye for even looking at these kinds of stalls, but so long as he was by himself, he practically had the run of the place. And that was just the outside. Past an elegantly carved set of dark oak doors, the rose marble-floored foyer of the estate’s main house was where mages gathered to mingle, while the translucent hands of invisible servants went around with trays of finger foods and tea cups. Mateo noticed some enchanted portraits hung from the beige walls, displaying curious fairies, unicorns and dragons looking down at the assembly. It seemed as if spellcasters of every nation from Norberg to Khaldoun were present, and he could see the experience etched into their sharp eyes and deep laugh lines. Mateo had seen the day before that most decorated mages were close to Cedric’s age or older, but now he noticed something else: many of them were followed around by apprentices not much younger than himself. They ran the gamut from eager, wide-eyed children to nervous teenagers, and they stuck to their masters like ducklings waddling after their mothers. In their arms they held satchels, staves and familiar carriers, if those familiars weren’t perched on their masters’ shoulders or sitting at attention at their feet. These apprentices were obviously dressed for a public event, their robes spotless and fitted with not a wrinkle out of place. As he stood taller and carefully straightened out his maroon robe, Mateo felt a harsh bump against his hip. “Hey!” he cried. “Oh, pardon me. Maybe you shouldn’t be staring off into space so close to the doorway!” retorted a bratty voice somewhere around Mateo’s waist-level. He looked down to see a blue-robed boy no older than twelve, his freckled face pinched into a condescending smirk. “Wendell! That is no excuse for such behavior!” scolded a fancily made-up woman in white storming up to them. The boy’s smirk vanished, and he meekly ducked his head as the woman towered beside him and crossed her arms. “Well, Wendell?” she prodded. Wendell’s brow was set to a harsh V as he looked back up at Mateo, but he managed to eke out one “I’m sorry.” Mateo was just as eager to move past this as he was. “It’s fine. But I appreciate that you apologized,” he said, his tone more gracious than he really felt. “Please pardon my son’s behavior,” said Wendell’s mother. Her eyes then took on a discerning light, just as Cedric’s did. “And, beg pardon, young man, but I can’t recall seeing you last year. Have you just taken on your apprenticeship?” she inquired. Mateo blinked. “Oh... well no, I actually never was an apprentice. Where I come from, there weren’t any wizards around to teach me.” As soon as he said that, both mother and son stared as if Mateo’s hair suddenly turned green. That… was that the wrong thing to say? He’d only spoken the truth, but now he realized that he didn’t have time to go over Avalor’s troubled history with magic. “Wait, no! That’s not a hundred percent true,” he exclaimed. “I took a lot from my grandfather’s old writings and books, so I did have a master wizard to learn from, and.. well, circumstances being what they were, um...” What was he doing? He should have his introduction down pat! “You’re a self-taught wizard? Now that’s something you don’t see everyday,” the woman remarked. “That’s just how it worked out.” Maybe if he just kept his answers short and neutral enough, she’d lose interest. “Who is your grandfather then?” she asked, busting any wishful thinking. A short and neutral answer wouldn’t stop her reaction from being anything but. Mateo took a deep breath. “He’s Alacazar. The... the former Royal Wizard of Avalor,” he replied. “Avalor? You mean the country where-Oh, goodness!” she gasped. “I heard about you! You broke a painting spell, and helped save the whole royal family!” Wendell’s scowl vanished as he looked back up at Mateo with astonished eyes. “Lissabeth my dear, is something the matter?” asked an approaching enchantress in a silken yellow gown, accompanied by a small group of mages. Oh great, an audience. “I happened upon this remarkable young man. His grandfather was the last Royal Wizard of Avalor!” Lissabeth proclaimed. A middle-aged sorcerer in green laughed in surprise. “I’d heard through the grapevine that we had a guest from Avalor this year, but I’d taken it for the usual claptrap.” “Er-“ Mateo tried to answer, but Lissabeth interjected, “And he just told me that he learned all that he knows about magic by himself.” “Hm. That’s rather unorthodox, but given the circumstances, it probably couldn’t be helped,” said another sorcerer, stroking his short black beard. Mateo tried to laugh it off. “It’s funny, I was just saying that-“ “But wouldn’t some measure of qualification be needed? There should be records kept of the boy’s progress,” interrupted a younger woman in a shimmering dragonscale shawl. “Doesn’t that seem rather belated at this point, Professor Willough? There are only so many schools who’ll take in wizards his age, not to mention all the rigmarole involved in getting into magics universities,” said Sorcerer Shortbeard. “How about a kingdom-issued exam?” suggested one wizard that Mateo couldn’t even see. “Do they have any qualified individuals to oversee that in Avalor?” asked another. “We might be able to find someone within the Ancient Arts University Association,” said the first enchantress to approach them. “Would you be interested, young man?” asked Lissabeth, addressing Mateo as if he hadn’t been overridden in this exchange. “I…” Mateo’s left hand gripped the satchel holding his tamborita like a lifeline. The only way out of the deep end was to say something . Preferably something astute. Or at least coherent. He crossed his hands behind his back, straightened his knees, and tried to recall the last time he watched Chancellor Esteban or Gabe speak in public. “I hadn’t put all those factors into consideration. I only took on the title of wizard officially just last year.” That’s it, he thought. Short, neutral, but stay alert. “How has that been, lad?” Shortbeard asked with a kind smile. “I’ve learned a lot just from experience, and it helps that I have so much support back home,” he responded. “Er, how long have you been studying magic on your own?” asked Professor Willough. “Basically for as long as I can remember. Close to twelve years, maybe?” “I’d say he has the experience to at least speak with a university board member. I do know a few who should be about,” she said, looking around the foyer. “I’ll think about that after the conference,” Mateo added quickly. “It certainly would help to have something on paper.” And get all of you off my back, please. “Why don’t you come over to the soirée on the estate rooftop tomorrow evening? It’ll be just like this, only with a more casual atmosphere. I think it would be a lovely opportunity for you to get acquainted with more of the wizards here, and bounce off more ideas for potential decisions,” suggested Lissabeth. Something that was even more of this? “That’s very kind of you, my lady, but I’ve hardly packed anything suitable to wear for a soirée,” said Mateo, exerting considerable control to keep his voice from shrinking. “Oh tish tosh, like I said - it’ll be a casual affair. And rest assured, we’ll all be looking out for you, making sure you’re not bothered by some of the more talkative elders,” she breezily assured him. Not wanting to dwell on that statement, Mateo decided now was his time to bow out. “That sounds amazing, thank you. It’d be great to meet some of the people I see at the showcases and seminars today,” he said, praying that someone would take the hint. “Oh, we do hope to see you there, my dear boy!” “You have a wonderful day now!” “Would you mind stopping by the enchanted gardening stall this afternoon?” Mateo responded with as many “Yes”s and “Thank you”s as warranted, careful not to look anyone in the eye for too long as he ducked and wove his way across the foyer and into the main hallway branching off from the left. “Oh, Lissabeth dear, did you happen to catch the boy’s name?” asked Shortbeard. By the time they looked back, Mateo had made himself scarce. --- The doors leading to the courtyard were just within reach, and any second thoughts about slipping away scattered with the bracing scent of the sea. Turns out, when a former tourist attraction’s featured highlight was its expansive range with an ocean view, all of the event’s main attractions would be lined up there. As crowded as the foyer had been, this was where all the action was. Everyone here scattered in groups or as individuals, taking in live demonstrations of new illusions, mystic menageries, a cadre of fortune-telling tents, game booths, and a hedge labyrinth that took things to the next level with enchanted climate simulations. And no one could miss the focal point of the conference: a whole quarter of the great field was dedicated to a gigantic beige tent with a green banner flaunting the name “Marvels of Tomorrow” in shimmering white letters. Red, blue and green curtains coated the sides of the tent, and a length of red velvet carpet led up to the entrance. Mateo didn’t know what to expect as he stepped into the tent, and he was immediately struck by how vibrant everything was. The inner perimeter was bedecked with decorative flowering plants and towering tropical trees, creating the illusion of a jungle growing around the cleared expanse containing the booths and smaller tents. The effect was heightened by the tallest trees reaching the roof of the pavilion, though enough bare area was left for sunlight to filter through the tan canvas. Flittering across the trees were automated toy birds, lovingly crafted with silver and bronze filigree on their wings, tails and beaks. Their trilling songs echoed throughout the pavilion, carried over the bustle of the conference attendants. The spectacle before him drove off all his earlier unease from the foyer. This felt overwhelming in a good way; a surge of excitement that lit his eyes and powered his gait as he made his way to the showcase theater. The pavilion was split into two large circular areas, not unlike circus rings. The theater area was a raised wooden platform located in the second, larger circle, placed flush against the farthest end of the tent, with six rows of low wooden benches for the audience. A magenta curtain patterned with stars covered the stage proper. There was already a considerable crowd lounging and mingling on the benches, but thankfully, it wasn’t difficult for Mateo to find a good spot in the middle row. “Attention to all our esteemed guests and attendees: the Tri-Kingdom Sorcerer’s Showcase will now start in ten minutes,” announced a booming voice speaking over their heads. “The showcase will be the first of many displays of wonder that we’ve in store as part of the Marvels of Tomorrow exhibit, and we indeed hope you have a marvelous time during your stay. Thank you.” “You heard him, you majestic mages! Let’s find our seats and get ready to start the show!” shouted a perky voice from the stage. In a puff of violet smoke, a young woman with waist-length light pink hair, a pearl-studded diadem, and a flashy blue-and-white dress robe appeared before the curtain, raising a thin golden wand. With a flick of her wrist, she gathered the errant smoke into a floating ball, and then tossed it into the air. The smoke-ball spiraled upwards for a few feet before it burst into a shower of sparkling lights, and Mateo applauded along with the crowd. “Welcome, and what a wonderful morning to see you all here on the first day of our Conference! I am Isadora the Illustrious, your humble host!” shouted the sorceress. A few loud hoots and whistles pierced from the younger attendees, though they were met with reprimanding looks from their elders. Their host, however, paid no mind as she tucked her wand back into her sleeve. “It gives me great pleasure to introduce our esteemed line-up of Royal Sorcerers, because they’ve prepared quite the eye-popping show to get this weekend started! But before we get that going, a few points to keep in mind: we’ll want our sorcerers to give you the best show they can, so let’s keep our familiars at their best behavior.” Isadora went on to list some standard bits of protocol, none of which surprised Mateo save for the point about errant demon summonings. “But well, I think we all know what to do there, now don’t we?” jested Isadora with a knowing smirk. A handful of mages laughed in response, though Mateo felt the joke slip through his grasp like a hard-flung china plate. “Alright, let’s not keep you or our panelists waiting!” Isadora drew up her wand again, and with one dramatic flick, a mysterious violet light flooded the theater area. Everyone in the audience held their breath as the curtain began to rise on its own. Mateo’s smile grew, and his hands gripped at his knees as a silhouetted figure stepped forward.

#wands of a feather #elena of avalor #sofia the first #fanfic #disney fanfic #mateo de alva #cedric the sorcerer #cedric the sensational #eoa #stf #rooks writes #my writing

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