#first netting pattern I’ve done all on my own think it would be fun to fuck with color and design of the bell part

[tacit-semantics]

Netted jellyfish :) little clumsy on the execution but I do think the visions there and I ALSO think it would be a lot of fun in like a scene or something. Get my hands on a shoebox and go wild kinda thing

#id in alt #first netting pattern I’ve done all on my own think it would be fun to fuck with color and design of the bell part #maybe make it a little bigger? you can like. see through netting as a function of it which makes attaching the tentacles difficult because #it gets muddy it gets muddy. think that would help mitigate it though #oh I didn’t get any good progress pictures which is unfortunate because I like having those for more obscure fiber arts like this one so #people have a better idea of what’s going on sjjsjs but that’s fine. I suppose it doesn’t quite justify it?? but regardless #fiber arts #netting #netted lace #lacemaking #soft sculpture #sea creatures #jellyfish #net making #my work

[expatesque]

Oooo if you’re open to helping us shop please help me find my wedding dress (big ask)? I feel like I’ve tried on every dress in London and am about to give up! I’m not tied to it being white (blue? metallic?) I just want it to feel special enough that I don’t look like my own guest, but not a full meringue moment because there’s only going to be 15 people total. Vibe is casual Saturday afternoon picnic in the park and drinks at our local afterwards, my budget is £2k!

Sorry I should have added that I’m super short so midis tend to fit better, maxi not really my vibe and I’m worried it might feel too formal for the picnic!

Oh my god this is my dream task. First off - congratulations! Sounds like it's going to be a beautiful wedding. Okay so I've got a few thoughts first before we dive in: (1) You can get anything shortened - I'm also relatively short (well, actually I have long torso and short legs, but works out the same) so 90% of my bottoms are tailored. And what better time to invest in some good tailoring than your wedding! Assuming the dress isn't beaded / heavy on appliques, it's usually<£30 to have something shortened, and it's the same price to have something taken up half an inch vs taken up a foot, to make a maxi tea length. So I'm going to recommend a few things that are longer but know that I always mean you should have them shortened if you want. (2) Have you thought about a veil? I just think it's the easiest, most obvious way to say 'Wedding!' but still keep things cool. Personally I love a birdcage moment but I'm also partial to a short veil, particularly if you get something meaningful embroidered on it (this one is fully customizable and I love the look of the phrase running down the side).

Okay now that we've done that, some thoughts: Rixo makes cute, special but low key dresses. For a city wedding feel, I love the shorter ones (60s vibes! This CAPE) but there's loads of cute options (remember, you can have the longer ones taken up!). They're also v affordable which is always nice.

On the less classically bridal end of the spectrum, we have La Double J who go big on color and pattern. Again, I'd consider adding a veil (maybe in a fun color?!) to feel more bridal. I'm not sure your body shape but this top and skirt combo! With a pale blue veil?! Come on. They also do have more classic bridal pieces as well. There's also Zimmerman - flirty and flouncy, their dresses have pure romantic vibes. Something like this could definitely read bridal (+ a birdcage viel and a little shrug maybe?). If you're not put off by black (again, veil and accessories can help) then this is to die for and super re-wearable. Or embrace the chill vibes and go yellow! They have loads of great options.

I'm sure you already know this but just in case: Reformation does bridal. Like their normal dresses, the options skew towards people with model proportions but they've got some gorgeous ones - love this minimal take. I'd also recommend Wolf & Badger again. Do you want to be a hot and cool minimalist? A sea foam mermaid? (I'd personally have the slits closed a bit and the whole thing taken up but that's me). A ball of spring flowers? The Badge has you covered.

And then of course, a net a porter troll. Are you a disco queen? The most elegant woman alive? (Prob not best for the park, but def could work for a pub). A garden fairy? A jumpsuit (!) babe? A queen of less is more? (maybe with tulle gloves!) A column queen? (I'd style with blue shoes that match, I have this pair from Ferragamo that I love).

Again for lots of these I think accessories are key. You add a veil, a glove (consider short too!), a white shoe and all the sudden, bang it's clearly bridal. I hope some of that is helpful, and good luck!

(okay also you did not ask about this but just a thought: you can get really beautiful, affordable, old embroidered white table clothes fairly easily online and at antique shops. How gorgeous would your wedding picnic be on all white 'blankets'? Maybe with something waterproof underneath because, London).

#this was so fun thanks babe #if you have any further revisions or thoughts happy to refine and keep searching!! #we're gonna need a tag for this huh #personal shopping #s shops #wedding #correspondence

[hq--fics]

hi! could u pls write how kuroo,bokuto,semi and oikawa would react to going to the beach with their gf and teammates and getting jealous when everyone’s staring at her in bikini?💖

A/N:  Oh anon you’ve spoiled me with multiple boys to write! Thank you so much for the request. I really hope you like it and I hope that I wrote Semi well enough!

Prompt list: here or feel free to request your own scenarios **Requests are open**

“Going to the beach with their gf and teammates and getting jealous when everyone’s staring at her in a bikini” w/Kuroo, Bokuto, Semi, and Oikawa 

Words: 4247

Warnings: some swearing

Masterlist

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

Kuroo

You both had planned this trip to the beach over a week ago; picking a day that you were both free and knew the weather would be great. This was to be a day for both of you to have fun and relax. Of course the entire team were invited to really make the most of the day, they needed the chance to unwind too.

When you all arrived at the beach and set up your own area to hang out and start having fun you blinked in surprise to see most of the guys strip down to their swimming trunks and make a beeline for one of the free beach volleyball nets while shouting out who would be on which team. Kuroo didn’t even give you a second look, his eyes set solely on the net. It wasn’t that you minded him playing it was the fact that he didn’t ask you to join them. Hell you would have taken a quick kiss on the cheek before he sprinted off, a sign that he hadn’t forgotten your presence was all you wanted.    

Glancing back you saw Kenma perched on one of the beach chairs, he’d changed too but obviously had no interest in playing volleyball. His eyes were trained on the game console in hand. You didn’t want to disturb him and looked over to smirk as Yaku had wasted no time in deciding flirting with some girls would be more fun and you felt your presence would probably throw him off. Not wanting to spoil the mood you pulled off your tank top and shorts to show the red bikini with white polka dots you were wearing underneath.

Grabbing the sarong from your bag you tied it around your waist only now noticing that Kenma’s game was silent you looked to see your boyfriend’s best friend staring at you, a small dusting of pink on his cheeks which you pretended not to notice. “Not that he will but if Kuroo asks, I’ve gone for a walk.” You said dropping your sunglasses from your head to settle over your eyes as you began to walk along the warm sand in the opposite direction of Kuroo.

When they stopped for a break the guys went to one of the coolers brought and grabbed a drink. By now Yaku had returned from his flirting and had been sunbathing while Kenma hadn’t budged from his seat. Only now did Kuroo spot what was wrong with the picture. With a frown he looked around, eyes drifting to the water in case you’d gone for a swim. “She went for a walk.” Kenma spoke up, not needing to look away from his screen to know what was going through his best friend’s mind. “She told me to tell ‘Kuroo’ if he asked.” The others winced and Kuroo felt nervous. You’d been together for so long that you only ever called him by his last name if you were annoyed at him.

Then from a short distance away they all heard cheering and your name. All attention turned in the direction of the commotion. Their eyes widened, jaws dropping in unison as they saw you in your bikini for the first time. To make things worse they watched your lithe form diving to successfully receive the ball spiked towards your side of the net and you hit the sand with a laugh. Your receive let your teammate deliver the winning spike and your game was finished. Kuroo tore his gaze from you to the spectators-mostly male he noted- eyeing you and he felt his eye twitch. Then you had to let one of them help pull you to your feet, his fingers lingering on your arm just a little too long for his liking. You laughed at something the guy had said and you looked down at your sand dusted form. Innocently you removed the sarong from your waist and shook off the sand before using it to wipe the remnants on your skin all while your admirers watched intently.

Unable to hold back anymore he crossed the sand closing in on you. At his approach you lowered your sunglasses to look over the rim at him. “Ah Kuroo, this is Sato, Ikeda, and Hara.” You introduced with a beaming smile. “They were so kind to invite me to play with them when they saw me on my own, wasn’t that nice of them?” Your tone was playful and light but Kuroo swiftly felt the sharpness of your point, the jealousy he’d felt brewing was now mixing with the stronger sense of guilt.

“Thanks for keeping her company guys,” he said not looking anywhere but you. Swiftly he took the sarong from your loosened grasp and draped it around your shoulders before pulling you close against his chest. His lips captured yours insistently. He would admit part of it was to make a point to the admirers who might have had deluded themselves into thinking you were single but mostly his kiss was to show you how much he loved you. “How ‘bout some one on one time? You can call me a dumbass the whole time.” “Oh Tetsu, you are a dumbass.” You laughed out before pressing a quick kiss on his lips “but you’re my dumbass.” You added as you ducked under his arm as you started walking back to the rest of the Nekoma team, allowing him a full view of you in your bikini as he gave chase.

Bokuto

The trip was like everything with Bokuto, spontaneous. The sun was out, you were both free so it was decided the day would be spent with the beach. As you got your stuff together you heard Bokuto on the phone to the rest of the Fukurodani team and the managers to tell them where to meet you. Your excitement at the prospect of it just being you and Bokuto did deflate a little but as you listened to him ramble about how awesome it was going to be with everyone your mood picked up quickly once more.  

While the guys went to find a place on the beach for you all, you and the two managers went to change into your swimsuits. When you emerged the two girls squealed; being so unused to Bokuto’s quieter half dressed the way you were. Immediately you became self-conscious and bit your lower lip looking down at the black bikini decorated with a golden feather pattern. It showed off your form perfectly but now you wondered should you go back and change. However both girls grabbed you hands and dragged you out into the sunshine in search of the guys.

By the time you, Yukie, and Kaori arrived the three of you had already amassed an interested following. Mostly it was just long appreciative stares but on the walk some did try to approach but the two managers were quick to brush them off as they kept their arms looped through yours protectively. “Hey, hey, hey!” Yukie called out playfully when she spotted the guys already playing with a volleyball, passing it idly from one to the other. At the signature call they all looked over. Bokuto’s golden eyes widened along with his grin when he saw you, shamelessly looking your bikini and your exposed skin. He was the luckiest guy on earth, he seriously wondered sometimes how he managed to get a girl like you but so long as you were happy to be with him he wasn’t going to question it.

However Bokuto’s focus being solely on you meant he failed to spot all of the looks aimed your way from strangers on the beach. Well he noticed a few stares but to him that was natural, you were gorgeous why wouldn’t you get looked at? What he truly failed to pick up on was the true meaning behind the stares and before that could become apparent Konoha challenging the others to a chicken fight distracted him. Eyes shining, Bokuto grabbed your hand and grinned at you excitedly. “Want to play babe? Together we can’t lose!”

“I’ll play later,” you promised with a large smile, your previous nervousness about how you were dressed had melted away. “I want to soak up as much sun as I can first. You go on though.” That was all Bokuto needed to hear. After giving you a kiss he turned and bolted down towards the sea with the others wanting to play while shouting he was going to win. Laughing at his antics you settled onto the beach chair to read the book you brought and enjoy the sun’s warmth.

Unfortunately other people had very different ideas. Even with some of the guys playing nearby and Kaori and Yukie lounging in their seats on either side of you, guys still approached in the hopes of flirting with you, inviting you to go get a drink or snack, or wanting to know if you wanted to go for a walk or swim with them. Kind as ever you let each person down, your friends letting you handle yourself knowing only to step in should things take a turn. Thankfully everyone seemed understanding enough and left without much hassle.

On the one hand it was nice to be complimented but when it was incessant, each new approach chipped away at your relaxed, cheerful mood to the point you felt tense and on edge just waiting for the next ‘excuse me’ or not-so subtle clearing of a throat to get your attention. Grumbling to yourself you snapped your book shut no longer able to immerse yourself in the story and fished out your mp3 player. Headphones in and music playing you got comfy and closed your eyes already hidden by your sunglasses. Why hadn’t you done this sooner?

Down by the sea Bokuto hadn’t witnessed any of the attention you were getting but the others did to the point they started to make it their main line of conversation. At first Bokuto thought it was their strategy to distract him enough so they could win against him. “Can you blame people from wanting to talk to her? She’s funny and beautiful. She’s the best!” “I don’t think talking is all these guys have on their mind…” Akaashi finally spoke up and when he heard his best friend’s insistence that they were telling him the true he took it a little more seriously all the while trying to ignore the twisting in his stomach. “Look she can handle herself. She’s stronger than other people give her credit for.” He stated with a final shove against Konoha, sending him toppling off Komi’s shoulders and into the water. His victory cheer was cut short when he heard two guys talking as they walked by.

“Ugh, what I wouldn’t give to have a girl like that!” one told his friend who nodded solemnly. “Think her boyfriend was one of the ones close by?” “Possibly, maybe that’s why she said no so quickly. When they leave we could try again with her?” “Good idea!” the friend grinned before sighing wistfully. “Until then I have the memory of seeing her in her black bikini up close.”

Bokuto sprang into action faster than the others anticipated; sprinting up the beach he stopped beside your chair and in one effortless movement he scooped you and the towel you were lying on into his arms. You squealed in surprise and opened your eyes to see Bokuto lie down on the chair and settle you and the towel over him.

Both of you settled into a comfy position, your head tucked under his chin while he had one arm around you, his hand resting on your thigh while you absently played with the fingers of his other. “You win baby?” you asked with a content hum. A grin spread on your lips when his pressed against your head. “Damn right I did.”

Semi

The beach had been your idea and Semi jumped at the chance. He couldn’t wait to have you to himself for once. He’d only recently noticed that his team would always be around you both. Yes, they couldn’t help that you liked to watch their practices but outside of that and school? Some of them were there hanging out too. One person in particular that was always there was Ushijima.

Normally he wouldn’t mind as he never saw Ushijima as a threat against his already established relationship but it wasn’t until Tendou pointed out how you and the ace interacted that he finally saw it.

Honestly how had he not seen the glaringly obvious sooner? You were the only one that Ushijima smiled at. You were a naturally affectionate person to begin with but Ushijima would reciprocate your affection when it went his way. You both even had some sort of inside jokes that he and no one else got. Seriously to an outsider it would look like you and Ushijima were the couple. Deep down Semi felt that made more sense. You and the ace of the academy were ten’s, he on the other hand felt like a six on a good day.  

“Hey sweetie guess what?” you grinned snapping him out of his thoughts as he got out of the car to see you looking at your phone. “Toshi and the rest of the team found out we were heading here today and want to join in on the fun!” “They’re crashing another date?” Semi asked a little too harshly making your smile fall slightly. He took a long deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t your fault. You hadn’t invited them but he would bet money that when they asked if they could come you said yes without any hesitation. Rubbing the back of his neck he muttered a sharp ‘whatever’ and stepped onto the sand.

By the time the team arrived and found you both they could feel the tension. When asked what was wrong you could only shrug while Semi insisted that everything was fine. You scowled at that, knowing it was a blatant lie but said nothing. When it had been just the two of you, you’d tried to get Semi to open up to you and tell you what was bothering him but he refused to the point he lost his temper and shouted at you. You blinked suddenly when Ushijima stood in front of you, eyeing you seriously. “Want to go swim? I’m surprised you haven’t gone near the water yet since you love it so much.”

You failed to notice Semi’s clenched fist at the invitation and display that once again Ushijima knew something about you that he didn’t. With a smile and nod you stood and undid the tie of your dress, letting it hit the sand as you stood out of it revealing to everyone the deep purple bikini with black straps. Semi’s face burned and his eyes widened at the sight and watched as you headed to the water with Ushijima by your side, everyone watching you go as you passed by. “Now do you want to talk about it?” Tendou sang innocently at him.

It wasn’t long before he heard your laughter and his sharp brown eyes finally took in the scene with a hardened glare. Ushijima was holding you in the air, his hands shamelessly on your waist before he lifted you into the air and let you cannonball into the water. When you broke through the surface of the water with a grin he could hear you chanting ‘higher Toshi!’ It pained and angered him to see you so joyful and carefree because of someone else. Why couldn’t you see what was bothering him so badly? Oh right because you weren’t a mind reader.

Just as he stood to go and talk to you rationally he saw Ushijima move his hands from your waist to your thighs to lift you out of the water and place you to stand on his shoulder. Jealousy spiking and patience snapping Semi growled and charged down to water. “Wakatoshi!” he called out tightly when you broke through the water’s surface. Your smile fell and you looked at your boyfriend warily. Ushijima stared at his friend. “Tendou wants you.” was all he said. Not questioning the statement, Ushijima nodded and left the water.

When he was gone Semi looked at you still tense and riled up. “Why am I not good enough for you?” he asked and you had to check your ears for any water in case you’d misheard him. “Ita what is wrong with you?” you demanded stepping out of the water to stand in front of him, arms crossed against your soaked chest. “What’s made you think you’re not good enough? Why are you being so pissy about our friends hanging out? They’ve been this way since we got together and that was months ago. Why is it suddenly bugging you that they have no sense of personal space?” “You definitely don’t mind ‘Toshi’ and his lack of personal space…” you blinked at your boyfriend’s accusation and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t.” he whispered, the last thing he wanted was to be laughed at for feeling lesser.

He flinched when you stepped closer, your body against his as you cupped his face to make him look you in the eyes. Semi saw your adoration for him shining and it was only made clearer when you hugged him tightly. “Idiot. I only laughed because Toshi is my cousin.” Semi reeled back and stared at you in bewilderment. “I know Toshi wouldn’t think to say we were related but I thought Tendou had already told you.” Semi was going to kill that red-headed monster but you pressed a kiss against his clenched jaw.

“I only have eyes for you. You know you’re sexy when you’re jealous…” you hummed against his skin, smirking when his hands trailed over your back and down to your hips. “Speaking of sexy…” Semi uttered with a smirk of his own against your lips. “I’m loving the bikini.” With a grin he grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder before wading waist high into the water and throwing you in as you screamed out with laughter.  

Oikawa

“Oi why are the ones who invited us here the last to arrive?” Iwaizumi asked, his eyes narrowing in on Oikawa as he walked towards him. His head tilted curiously when he was his best friend and biggest annoyance in life was approaching the team alone. His posture was relaxed so he doubted she was far behind. Oikawa gave his best friend his usual playful smile as he took one of the free seats.

“The best looking people have to make the best entrances, Iwa.” He stated as if it was the obvious answer before he looked around the group with a smirk. “So who was the first to arrive?” a swift hit to the head with a clenched fist was answer enough. As he began to chat casually with his team he frowned when Kindaichi started to choke on his own words. He stared at his junior as his face turned red and eyes widened. Kunimi followed his friend’s stare and his usually bored expression took on one similar to the stuttering boy.

Slowly the others stopped their own conversations to see what the fuss was about and Iwaizumi cleared his throat while Hanamaki let out a low chuckle, clapping Oikawa on the back. “Well for once you were right. The best looking definitely make the best entrances.” Oikawa barely took in his words as he stared at you approaching, looking like the goddess you were. His eyes roamed over the aqua blue bikini adorning your body, when you were settling into the space on the seat he’d made for you to sit against him he noted the white outline of stars on the fabric.

Noting that the others were still staring at you he pouted and threw his arms around you in a playful display of possession. “Go get your own girls.” He taunted at them while sticking out his tongue at his friends while you laughed at your boyfriend’s antics.

“Nooo keep staring!” you pleaded with the boys while cuddling into Oikawa’s hold. “It’s so rare to see Toru jealous even if he is pretending. Makes a nice change from it being me all the time.” You grinned up at your boyfriend who stared at you blankly. “That’s ridiculous, you shouldn’t feel that way. Don’t you trust me?” he asked trying to lighten the mood and you arched an eyebrow at him. Was he serious? “Of course I trust you.” You said sitting up straighter and moving so his hold around you wasn’t so tight. “Toru think about how many times your fangirls have swarmed you and I’ve had to smile and watch and say nothing. I do that because I trust you. Think about how many waitresses have flirted with you when we’ve been out and I left the table for a second. How many numbers have been slipped to you when they think I was gone long enough. I’ve pretended not to see that or you trying to get rid of the paper before I come back into view because I trust you.”

You started to get upset as you slowly got to your feet. “I bet if you walked ten steps on this beach some girl would come and bat her eyelashes at you. I know it’s going to happen and I know you’ll let them down because we love each other and I trust you completely but don’t you dare imply that my feelings are ridiculous.” Roughly you ran your hand through your hair and looked at the rest of the group who looked awkward and stared at anywhere that wasn’t you or a gobsmacked Oikawa. “Sorry for ruining the mood guys. I’m going to get some ice cream.” You mumbled before walking away.

Before he could wallow his chair was roughly kicked out from under him. Wincing he glared at Iwaizumi who glared back at him ferociously. “IDIOT! GO AFTER HER!” He shouted hauling his clueless best friend to his feet. “She’s better looking than you at the best of time. Every guy on this beach will have been eyeing her up since she arrived.” “Add in that bikini…” Hanamaki added with pursed lips. “And the fact that she’s upset and alone…” Matsukawa dealt the finishing blow and Oikawa took off after you.

You didn’t get very far before the first group of guys came into your space and Oikawa saw as they all smiled at you and talked gesturing to the small space they’d previously been sitting at. He saw how you shook your head and wiped your eyes. One tried to step closer and put a hand out to you but you swiftly stepped out of his reach and firmly shook your head again before walking away.

Oikawa glared at the group as they continued to watch your retreating figure. Sharply he clicked his tongue and continued after you, closing the distance because of course you were dragged into a conversation by someone. Thankfully it was just one guy this time, definitely less intimidating to you than the group that had practically encircled you. Sadly though this guy had only one thing on his mind and Oikawa could see that from the way he looked at you, trying to be subtle about where his gaze would linger before returning it to your face. He was still a little ways away so couldn’t swoop in and rescue you. All he could do was watch you shaking him off politely before you continued on your way. Through all these interactions you were slowly becoming angrier that you couldn’t just get some ice cream.

Then you stopped when you heard the wailing. Looking down you gasped to see you’d ruined a little boy’s sandcastle. Forgetting everything else you knelt down to apologise and help the boy build a bigger and better castle. By now Oikawa was a few feet away and watched you give the boy a high five when the castle was finished. Even this little snake was after you and Oikawa watched as the boy kissed your cheek with a grin.

Jealousy already boiling in his skin from being unable to save you previously this was the last straw and he appeared scooping you into his arms as he stared in triumph at his confused and much younger opponent. “If you’re looking for a Queen for your castle shorty look somewhere else.” He teased the boy while holding you close against his chest. Immediately you sensed the difference in your boyfriend’s declaration and the way he held you compared to earlier. This wasn’t playful, this time he was deadly seriously. “This one’s taken.” He said as he carried you away and towards the snack stand. “Never thought it’d be a six year old that’d make you jealous…” you said with a small sigh as he set you on your feet but kept a firm hand around your waist as you walked. “Was all the others too.” Oikawa grumbled surprising you. “I’m sorry I was so dismissive of your feelings. Jealousy is the worst.” “You were right though, while it doesn’t go away fully it does help when you know you can trust the other completely to say no...and rescue you when needed.”  

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu fic #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu requests #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu oikawa #haikyuu semi #haikyuu bokuto #writing prompts #writing request #hq imagines #hq fic #hq x reader #hq scenarios #hq #semi #semi eita #semi x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa toru #oikawa #kuroo x reader #Kuroo #Kuroo Tetsuro #bokuto x reader #bokuto #Bokuto Koutarou

[zynart]

i trained a neural net on 10,000 irony-poisoned tweets and it gave me.. cringe?

I’ve been thinking about the concept from the header, about Twitter as an anti-empathy machine racing to the bottom to dredge up the least charitable interpretation possible, a lot lately. It fits as a way to describe so much modern internet culture. Machine in the sense of, a replicable set of steps, done by us individual cogs in the machine, with a feedback loop from engagement and dopamine. The industrialization of petty cruelty on a personal scale. And there’s so much to say about it but I want to talk about how it fucks with my own head

One way the hellsite, social media in general but in a uniquely powerful way on twitter, makes me miserable how it trains you to see cringe in everything

Now my inner voice immediately points out how every single thing is cringe. It’s a constant nihilistic voice in my head. The human brain is maybe too good at synthesizing an inside voice that learns from patterns around you and mimics their collective voice. It’s relentlessly cynical, almost like it foresees what irony-poisoned twitter would say and lets me know before I even act on the thought.

I pre-dunk on myself, and if someone real-dunks on me and their dunk is better, I dunk on myself for not even having done a good job of dunking on myself

(I guess I don’t want to generalize this, so let’s say this is about people who would immediately see “the hellsite” and know exactly what I mean. Which is the irony-poisoned twitter nexus of politics/left/meme/media twitter that I’m plugged into all the time, the nexus that generates all this discourse that I’m plugged into all the time, the only people who would bother reading more than two sentences of this?

I have no illusions that people from knitting twitter or sports twitter is the audience for this. If I were doing targeted ads it would be for people who’ve tweeted at least 8 times about NYT op-eds and can tell you what people are mad about on a given day)

But it probably makes the rest of us miserable too. Or some of us. I don’t think there’s a way to argue that it’s healthy and non-toxic and not detrimental to our mental health, but we can’t let go

visibly caring about anything? cringe

creating stuff?

being proud of stuff you’ve created? cringe

thinking its good?

thinking anyone should care about your art?

or your feelings? cringe

every language tic you have? cringe

My neural net has trained itself to find the most cutting way it can be mimicked and mocked. And I mean, I guess often they’re funny. People have a knack for distilling things about the way you speak and seizing onto everything mockable and isolating it in an absurd way. There are so many ways I could make fun of the way I talk. There are certain words I overuse. I have issues with brevity. Any long-winded run-on all-lowercase sentence about depression or loneliness starting with “I feel like” with 5-6 of my overused words and a self-reply threading it without adding much would be a brutal roast of me. Nobody has done that yet, to my knowledge, because I’m not relevant enough for people to have heard of, thank god

(I don’t know the context of those two tweets, but before quoting the anti-empathy machine tweet I wanted to credit the concept of the empathy machine to its first appearance on twitter search results and to Roger Ebert, I guess)

And tastes! We’re not done:

every joke? probably cringe

most pop culture references? cringe

especially if they’re mainstream?

especially if they have Obama-era naivete?

especially if their politics are out of touch? cringe

(people who like, say, Parks & Rec must all be rubes, too naïve and simple to see the flaws of liberal optimism? People who like 90s laugh-track sitcoms must be rubes with an unsophisticated sense of humor that needs to be told, via laugh track, when to laugh. People who like soap operas? Cringe. They clearly don’t understand more subtle prestige tv or cult classics. the internet really can do this all day)

I mean, I like things I know are very flawed. And I like to think that I’m aware of the flaws and that I find something in it that I value—maybe it’s comfort watching, or nostalgia, maybe I appreciate melodrama or think there’s a lot of solid jokes that I’d appreciate if I didn’t let my instinctive dislike of laugh tracks snap me out of it, or maybe I appreciate the laugh track on its merits because the people who devoted their lives to making television probably understood the instinctive appeal of their tools, maybe I think the characters are good or I appreciate the plotting or the visuals, maybe I just like camp, or just find something a guilty pleasure, or sometimes I like zoning out to watch hot people argue with each other, maybe there’s some way in which all these other folks are finding value in this piece of pop culture which is an angle that just doesn’t come—

and I think for the most part the generosity we have for our liking of the dumb things we like, or for people who like the same dumb problematic thing we like, is something we deny others. And I think for the most part, people are no more and no less stupid or thoughtful than you or me)

But also, you know what:

being dismissive of mainstream stuff? cringe

being pretentious?

being into French art house films from the 1950s?

being into sad indie music?

being into mid-century philosophers? cringe

using academic language?

being openly jaded and cynical? kinda cringe

I used to enthusiastically care about making stuff. Or learning stuff. About writing things from stories to policy briefs to articles. Trying to persuade people. Literal "I trained a neural net on 10,000 irony-poisoned tweets and it gave me this" situation

But then it goes:

trying to contribute to the world?

believing what you’re going to do with your life or career matters?

idealism?

seeing yourself as part of helping make a better world? delusional

thinking anything I could contribute is valuable? arrogant

or could make a difference? naive

that anyone should listen to anything I have to say? arrogant

wanting people to read or listen to stuff I make? entitled

thinking they could possibly like it? delusional

all of the above? cringe, cringe, cringe

I’m not under the illusion that any of this matters to anyone except a small handful of people in a very niche group of people whose neural nets are firing away right now doing the calculations to reach the most cynical take possible, or the best way to roast this concept, or a smart take on how this is bullshit.

And I’m not saying this to pre-empt critique. This isn’t some call for civility. Most criticism I could receive is probably worthwhile and smart

(That’s the nuance of it all, isn’t it? So often real criticism is written off as an artifact of internet dynamics, or as examples of the toxicity of social media, or cancel culture, or whatever you want to call it. And that’s why it’s hard to try talk about it

I don’t even think that’s usually in bad faith. Sometimes it’s hard to accept criticism as justified, or even as pointing to a real issue even if the body of it wasn’t quite justified, especially if the context is mean and not politely constructive, and it’s easy to write it off as one more example of the bullying toxicity and cruelty of the internet

We’re too close to our own work and our own speech to have total clarity when something stings)

All I want is for my brain’s first impulse to not be running through a card deck of possible faults and trying to match them up against whatever I read. Maybe I’ll end up with the same conclusions and the same criticisms. I just want to approach it charitably, and be deliberate about my problems with something. I don’t want my reactions to be instinctive and my reasoning to work backward from that, which is really easy to do even without realizing it. I just want to be intentional about it

So I guess, in summary:

writing this? cringe

thinking anyone would care about this?

CRINGE

if you liked this, feel free to check out my other 'essays' on internet/pop culture stuff on my homepage. here's a selection:

· “book lovers” don’t love anything about books and it’s weird (or, defending classic novels)

· there are things we owe to each other

· humanity is worth loving, humans are worth saving

· what makes someone good, bad, cancelled, or redeemed? i don't know either!

· please tell me if you have a definitive answer on what makes someone a bad person

· ok, fine, my social justice politics feel a bit like religion sometimes and that’s ok

· after the deluge (short story) (dispatch from an island state post climate apocalypse)

[back to home]

#tags are kinda cringe don't you think? #internet #twitter #culture #cringe #EMBRACE CRINGE

[lonelypond]

Love Is For Losers

NicoMaki, Love Live, 1.7K, 1/2

Summary: Yazawa Nico and Nishikino Maki are both key players on the Otonokizaka University Tennis Team. But now Nico has decided to "improve" Maki's social media and tennis game.

Love Is For Losers

Not the most flattering picture of herself, racquet ready, waiting for the return of a serve, but Maki Nishikino really liked her look of concentration. So she hit “Post.”. And the hearts and reactions and fire emojis piled on. Wait, what was that comment, from @NicoNi? “With squinty eyes like that, how can you see the ball?”

WTF?!?!?!? Junior and top tennis singles player Nico Yazawa was notorious for living on social media. Since practice started in September, she’d been leading weekly social media best practice training sessions for the Otonokizaka University team that freshman Maki had proudly never attended. And now she was trolling Maki? Was that a social media best practice?

Maki never replied to a comment, but to let the smug Nico Ni have the last word would grate across every nerve Maki had.

To quickly type, “Who’s in the top 10 national standings again? Can you see that?” seemed almost an illicit thrill. To get an instant reply of eye emojis, plus a sweatdrop made Maki laugh out loud. Quickly scoping out the coffeeshop to check if she’d drawn any attention to herself, Maki clicked through to NicoNi’s home page, Nico’s last post was a bikini shot with an obscene amount of hearts and various emoji combinations in an endless comment scroll. Maki snorted, too obvious an attention grab. Maki would ignore it and stick to tennis, which she knew very well. Ah, there was a pic of Nico rushing the net, one of her favorite ways to use her sprint speed. Maki had an in.

“Spend less time looking at my pics and more time on your approach shots.”

Another instant reply. Another sweat drop. “Nico knows. But you’re so pretty. See you at media training ; )”

Did Nico think she was going to get Maki into one of her stupid sessions like that? Maki dropped her phone on the table, sipping her espresso with a frown.

###

Maki’s phone pinged explosively. A series of messages from her self proclaimed bestie and doubles partner, Hoshizora Rin.

R: hahaha Maki Ma you really need to be here

R: Nico’s going through your TWIG account as her “what not to do on social media” slideshow

R: it’s so funny, Maki

R: (*≧艸≦)(*≧艸≦)(*≧艸≦)

R: you missed out Check out Nico’s LIVE.

Maki stared at her phone. Nico’s Live, that happened when you went to someone’s TWIG profile and clicked on their pic, right? Maki did, grimacing as she clicked on Nico’s face. Nico was in front of a whiteboard, drawing pictures of tennis rackets, disgustingly cute tennis rackets. She leaned forward, checking her phone, then grinned like someone who’d just served a winning ace.

“And @Nishikinoshot has just joined the fans watching Nico on TWIG Live…”

Maki heard Rin yell “Hi Maki!!!” in the background as Nico continued, “One of the best ways to learn how to properly conduct and promote yourself on social media is to find an influencer you respect and build a relationship with them. @Nishikinoshot has chosen @NicoNi, the smartest move she…

“I have not.” Maki shouted at her phone and then felt silly when she realized there was no way for Nico to see or hear her, or was there? TWIG kept floating an “ask to join the Live” teaser, so Maki thumbed it. Nico paused, obviously her notifications were on, another one of those winning serve grins and suddenly Maki was sharing Nico’s screen.

“Jumping into the Live. Good initiative, Nishikino..”

“Maki.”

“So why’d you pick your TWIG handle?”

What kind of a question was that?

“Nishikino shot...you know...because of tennis...the Nishikino shot always scores.” Also worked with photography, a hobby Maki wanted more time for.

“Nishikino announces her prowess off and on the court.” Nico giggled, Maki glared.

“What are you saying? That’s not right.”

“Ah, so you admit it is confusing. Make a note of that, class, it’s always best to have a tag that doesn’t confuse people.” Staring right at Maki, ruby eyes twinkling, Nico made an elaborately surprised, amused face, raising a hand to cover her mouth. “We were reading it as Nishikino’s hot, ‘cause you are.”

Maki flushed. And fumbled with her phone to end the live, not even registering what other garbage Nico was saying. And then her phone pinged again.

R: Are you all right, Maki? Nico was just having a little fun.

M: I don’t want to talk about Nico.

R: Okay.

M: That was your fault.

R: Hey, I thought you’d want to know.

M; Yeah...but tomorrow, after practice, you’re on clean up.

R: Maaaaaki (⁎˃ᆺ˂)’

###

Grunting, Maki swung through at full velocity, then grimaced as yet another practice serve skipped out of bounds. She leaned over to pick up another couple of balls. Both buckets were empty. Tempted to throw her racket, instead she shook her head, tucked her racquet under her arm, grabbed a bucket and went to the other side of the court to pick up the balls.

“Hey, let me help you,” chirped an unfamiliar voice. Maki turned. Nico Yazawa had grabbed the other buckets and was hustling for the net. Nico was always hustling, all lean muscle and speed. Her sable hair, usually put up in twin tails, was loose, still wet from the shower. She’d changed from her usual practice uniform to casual pink and black striped biker shorts and an oversized pink t-shirt shirt that slid off her shoulder and read “Killer Cute.” “Coach ended practice an hour ago.”

Maki shrugged, starting with the balls as far away as possible from the spot Nico had chosen.

“You’re always out here.”

“I take tennis seriously.”

Nico hesitated, hands on her hips, watching Maki curiously over mirror sunglasses perched halfway down her nose, “Nico sees that. But you can get trapped in patterns if no one points them out.”

“I’m fine. I win.”

“Don’t you want to win better?”

“Win better? That’s not a thing.” Maki tapped her racquet against her leg, fidgety.

“Accuracy matters.” Nico picked up a tennis ball, tossed it into Maki’s bucket, and winked, “Crush your opponents with finesse, not raw power. Fewer wasted serves.”

Maki’s hasty rush of anger changed to curiosity. Nico led the team in aces, with amazing power for someone so short. “Coach hasn’t said anything.”

“Like you said, you get the job done. And Coach has other problems...like keeping Honoka from exhausting herself in the first few volleys.”

They both chuckled at how eager Honoka Kosaka was to chase down every ball, until she hit empty. As a joke, after their last practice, Rin had her girlfriend, Hanayo Koizumi, the team manager, post a photoshopped pic of a golden retriever playing next to Honoka’s double’s partner, Umi Sonoda. Honoka had laughed longer than anyone.

Nico was right, Maki realized. Coach had been spending a lot of time on the players with more basic problems. And their assistant spend most of the time on opponent research, editing video footage.

“Nico uses a platform stance, but Maki could get away with a pin-point stance. Watch my feet.” Nico grabbed a ball, tossing it up, swinging at it with a pretend racquet. Instead of her feet remaining the same distance apart, her back foot shifted closer to the front one and then she pushed off up into the serve. “You’ve already got natural explosive power, you don’t need a nitro boost.”

Maki considered, moving her feet through the change Nico suggested. It felt comfortable, offering more control. She nodded, then jumped back when Nico clapped her on the upper arm.

“You’re a quick learner. Hang on. Nico will hop over there and you can try it out. It’s more fun with an opponent.”

“I’ll win. You’ll be crushed.” Maki winked.

Nico laughed and it echoed. “Nico didn’t teach you everything Nico knows.”

###

“So you’re a local too.” Nico was scooping salad into Maki’s bowl. They’d decided to stop for dinner.

“Yeah. My family owns a medical center so I couldn’t just go off anywhere.”

Nico paused, eyebrow raised. “Why not?”

“I’ve been working there since…” Maki tried to remember her first job at the hospital, how old was she? She remembered sitting at her father’s desk, coloring in specially made anatomy chart pages in elementary school. Did that count as a job? “Forever.”

“Ah. Nico had to stick close for family too. Three sibs.” Nico flashed a smile and three fingers. “They’re the best, but they rely on Nico.”

“Your parents work a lot?” Maki understood that.

“Yeah, my mom does. My dad died when I was little.”

Maki paled, what did you say to that. “I’m sorry” came out as a mumble.

A sigh, weary, as Nico pushed Maki’s filled bowl in her direction, “Me too. But we survived. He taught me tennis. And…” Nico put on a sparkling smile, bounced her hands up to her temple, rock hands gesture, and her voice became brighter. “Nico Nico Ni.” Then she relaxed back to normal, “He said it could cheer up the whole world..”

Maki remembered something. “Nico Nico is the ideophone for smile.”

Nico leaned forward, “So the Nishikino isn’t just for show.”

Maki shook her head, “We have a hospital in Tokyo too. I’ve spent a lot of summers there.”

“Wow, a doc and a jet setter. So why tennis?”

“I liked it better than golf. My parents said piano didn’t count as a networking activity.”

“Piano? Classic stuff.” Nico created a melody on an air keyboard.

“Some. And jazz. I get to take a couple of music classes, at least this year.”

Nico wondered if Maki realized how robotic she sounded, and how laced through with sadness her mood was as she talked about her family.

“Hey, Nishikino…”

“Maki.”

“Maki. Play for Nico sometime. Nico loves singing. My dad always said I should go on American Idol.”

“Sorry.” Maki twisted a curl of hair, “I don’t play those kind of songs.”

Maki obviously just needed to know more about Nico, which was Nico’s favorite topic. “Nico is multifaceted. We can do Ella and Count Basie, if you want. With the time you save not practicing your serve.”

Nico winked, her multifaceted ruby eyes cheerful pulls as she hummed. Maki found herself intrigued. “I’ll think about it.”

“Nico will be your personal tennis coach to make sure you improve.”

“Not necessary.” Maki leaned back to signal the waiter. Time to start the main course.

A/N: Another AU Yeah August entry, college rivals was requested and the Olympics put me in a sports mood. Planning another chapter.

Still taking requests.

#NicoMaki #Love Is For Losers #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #au yeah august #AUYEAHAUGUST21 #tennis #rivals #college

[tardis-ghost-blog]

Soul’s Shadow Ch2 (Doctor Who)

<< Prev - Next >>

He was already a few steps ahead before I got my body to react and follow him, the gun still in my hands. The metal had gotten warm from my own body temperature, but the weight and feeling was still so uncanny. I wondered if it was even loaded, and if so, why he would give it to me just like that. Right here and an now I would be able to simply shoot him in the back - and I was rather certain he wouldn't be able to avoid it this far away.

With a sigh I stuffed the weapon into my small shoulder bag. This was all just a weird dream anyway, right? Speaking of which... I pinched my nose shut with my fingers, trying to breathe through it anyway. When this didn't succeed I counted my fingers... twice. And finally pulled out a crumbled receipt from my pocket to read its content.

Alright... all reality checks indicated that I, indeed, was awake. No lucid dream for me, then. I frowned and sighed. Both, because it would have been cool, and because it meant I was awake and this was really happening.

"Where are we going, Mr. Saxon?" I asked eventually, when he walked down an alley I had rarely used before.

"Don't call me that. It's not my name."

"Oh, sorry," I mumbled and managed to get next to him. He wasn't that big, actually, compared to me he was, of course, but still not so much. And he looked rather cool in those clothes, sparkling the unfitting wish in me to sit down and draw him. I coughed slightly to get my head clear. "What is your name, then?"

The stranger turned around, halted in his steps and observed me for a few seconds.

"I am the Master," he announced with a proud smile.

"Of what?"

"Huh?"

"Master of what?" I wanted to know.

He raised a brow and shrugged, grinning boyishly. "Of everything."

I couldn't help it. My stupid brain just never stands still. "Well, not of Great Britain anymore,"

Instead of murdering me, the Master only let out a short laugh. It sounded honestly amused, though, making me smile a little myself. At least he seemed to have some humour.

"Oh, one day the universe itself will be mine, just you watch me," he said sweetly, like a boy telling his mom he wants to become a pilot.

Somehow the Master felt so childish and boyish, it was hard to believe he was the same man whom almost all of Britain had wanted as Prime Minister.

My thoughts briefly wandered back to that time, trying to puzzle together what exactly he had even told people. Something flashed behind my eyes, too quickly gone to really grasp. Images, impressions. Screams and smoke and round objects flying through the sky. I blinked perplex and shook my head.

"What's with you?" the Master bowed down a little, curiously observing my puzzled features.

"N... nothing. Just slept bad, 's all."

He shrugged and straightened again, wanting to continue the walk, however turning around once more. "And what do they call you?"

"Call...? Oh... I'm Lucy."

His face dropped instantly, morphing into an expression of annoyance and almost hate. "You have any other names?"

"Nooo..." I responded carefully. "What's wrong with it?"

The Master grunted and rolled his eyes. "My former wife's name. And that beasty thing tried to shoot me. Missed, of course. Never held a gun in her life before, but still..."

"Oh. Sorry."

"I'll just call you Lu, how about that?" He smiled again. "Alternatively we can settle on stupid earth ape."

"That's a bit long, innit?" I chuckled. "Lu's fine. But still, where're we going?"

"A shortcut into town."

"Oh.... I see. Say..." Again I felt my heart pounding wildly in my chest. Was I really about to do this? "The person I choose... do they have to live nearby?"

The Master tilted his head. "I have no TARDIS, right now. So, wherever they are, you have to get us there."

What the hell was a TARDIS?

I nodded. "Can you... mhm... get money? I mean, lots of it. Without anyone noticing it, of course. I... don't have much."

His eyes glinted happily. "No problem."

.oOo.oOo.oOo.

The landscape rushed past the window, trees and fields, villages and cities, all a blur of colour. It had gotten evening, the sky took on soft dark shades, and orange and white lamps faded into light. Sometimes the train halted, and the later it got, the less people entered or exited. Sometimes the stations were completely empty and through the window seeped the smell of foreignness.

"As a child I always imagined to go on a ride like this," I mumbled dreamily, "and simply get off the train at one of those empty, black stations. Not knowing where I am, or where to go."

The Master sat opposite to me, arms folded over his chest, eyes closed and his head resting against the window. He wasn't asleep, that I could tell. He didn't feel asleep, more relaxed, in a weird way.

"You like long train rides, too, huh?"

He smiled, his eyes creeping open. "It's so nicely quiet."

"Quiet..." I repeated absently, my gaze wandering back to the darkness-covered world outside. "Trains are so loud, though. I like how they sound. As if the wheels on the tracks are singing a song."

His gaze rested on me, I felt it intensely and looked at him, eventually. Although we had the lights dimmed in our compartment I could still see his eyes. And like before they fascinated me. Usually I can't look people in the eyes for long. It always feels so overwhelming, distracting, downright unpleasant. Because of that they often think I'm not listening... But I understand a lot more when I don't have to look. With the Master it was different, as if his gaze wasn't constantly searching for a way to call me out, to tell me how inhuman I behave and rub it into my face. He just didn't care.

"That's a hellishly long ride to get rid of a person," he remarked after we parted from another station.

My gaze kept glued to the window, but I still nodded. The sound of the train lulled me into a light slumber, brought me back to some hours ago, when the Master had entered a bank only to walk over to the banker and had told him to hand him a hundred thousand Euros. Astonished I had watched the scene, had glared at the Master with an opened mouth when he pushed the bag into my hands.

I had to transfer most of it to my bank account, not wanting to carry it all around with me, and the rest of the way my thoughts turned summersaults. I could finally pay back all of my student debts! I could afford a brand new gaming PC, a bike or... a bed.

Thinking about my almost empty apartment I concluded it would be wise to start with the basics. I hadn't been able to afford furniture, so far, my belongings only consisting of a mattress on the floor, a shaky table and chair for my laptop and three cupboards that could - with lots of good will - be called a kitchen. Heck! I didn't even own a fridge!

Now, all of a sudden, none of it was a problem anymore. I was free, I had enough to live for at least a few years, in case my bad luck with finding jobs would continue.

And all that for the price of a human life.

"Who is it?" the Master asked, as if he had read my thoughts.

The question tore me out of the thoughts, bringing me back to the present moment, and also to a past long gone, to the time of my childhood - if you can call it that - to years of fear and being caged in. None of it was his busyness.

"You didn't want to know."

"Now I do," he countered calmly.

"Because it's quiet?"

An almost pained smile appeared on his face. I had hit a point, although I had no clue what it was about. Only another puzzle piece for my pattern oriented mind, another snipped about the strange man in front of me, that once had been known by every person in the country, but was now unrecognized, as it seemed.

"What happened when you became Prime Minister?" I couldn't help but ask, ignoring his own question. "I remember the spheres killing the president, but then..." Again, images whizzed through my head, probably created by my brain to fill the gaps. A brain can do that... create false memories, because remembering something at all is better than having a hole in your head.

"I took over the earth," the Master told with a grin. "First I decimated the human race, then had some fun with you all." He snickered. "Wiped out Japan, built a police state, let my Toclafane decimate a few more of you, here and there. You know... just for fun. Humans reproduce so fast, it almost doesn't matter."

I only blinked at him, confused.

"No, you didn't."

"Well, you wouldn't remember. It all was based on a paradox, so it never happened."

Again I blinked. There was something in my mind, pieces that got put together, a pattern, evolving from the net of information and thoughts in my head. Then it clicked.

"You're alien, too, aren't you?"

It made sense. Looking back at the attacks on earth, so far, his strange behaviour, the weird terms he always used, the way he felt so different... I glanced back into his eyes, knowing it to be true, no matter if he would deny it now or not. No human could have such eyes.

"What if?"

"Hm..." I made, noncommittally, shrugged and drew my legs up on the seat to wrap my arms around them. "A paradox..." I thought out loud, leaning my head against the window. If he was alien then it was possible he had the technology to make something like that possible. "You really did all those things, then?"

A childish smile let his eyes crinkle with joy. "Scared now?" he teased and gave me a mock-pout. "It's not the worst thing I've ever done, if that consoles you."

It didn't. But that he wasn't a good person had been obvious right from the start. I probably should have been scared, should have risked jumping from the train only the get away from this man. Strangely enough my heart was calm, my mind only tired because it was so late already.

No, I wasn't scared... yet. Had he been human I would have assumed he was a psychopath, but somehow that didn't quite fit him. There was more to the Master, a calmness behind the chaos in his eyes, a softness, buried beneath the ocean of blood and cries he seemed to have left behind. An image flashed through my head, of him kneeling in the rain, crying out an unspeakable pain, without anyone every listening.

I blinked it away. It happens sometimes, my brain just creating scenes and images from what I pick up from other people. No idea if I'm really that empathic... Or if it's more like with blind people... I can't read body language and facial expressions so well, but instead I somehow can sense people's moods and feelings, without even looking at them. I think everyone can do that, but most people don't have to.

"How is it?" I mumbled. "To take a life."

The Master smiled and leaned forward, hands folded in his lap. "Exciting. You finally understand how much power you have, what you're capable of, and that no one can stand in your way any longer." He chuckled a little. "You'll see for yourself."

I swallowed and glanced away. Rain started to trickle down the window and I closed it, listening to the added sound of drops against glass. So soothing, distracting me from what was ahead.

"You're an odd one," the Master remarked quietly. "About to commit murder, but you don't even look bothered about it. And there you humans are so annoyingly moral."

"I don't understand moral," I softly admitted and shrugged. "There usually is no logic behind it. It's just things you don't do, because you... don't do it. But no one ever tells you, why."

The Master laughed quietly to himself and leaned back again, signalling the conversation to be over. I didn't mind, feeling tired anyway. Good thing those seats were long. I slipped out of my shoes, lifted my legs up, while taking my glasses off and placing them on top of the trash bin.

"Wake me, when we're there," I mumbled and curled myself up on the seat.

#Doctor Who fanfic #doctor who master #self insert #Tenth Doctor #simm!master #doctor who #fanfiction #original character #tgsoulsshadow

[billyhargroveinaponytail]

Good Ole Dacre Montgomery

Chapter 6: 'But my darling, I am still in love with you'

Songs for this chapter:

'Material Girl' By Madonna

'I hate you, I love you' By Nash & Olivia O' Brien

'Happier' By Ed Sheeran

*Warnings* -Smut,Language, Alcohol

@dreamin-of-dacre​

_____________________________________________________________________

Myra woke up early the next morning, checking her phone first thing. There were still no messages from Dacre and she was worried, but maybe he was still sleeping and hadn't gotten the chance to reply yet.

Myra: 'Can't wait to see you! Have a great morning!'

She laid her phone down, sighing. She glanced in the direction of her closet noticing her long dress hanging from the rod,she gave a faint smile trying to lighten her mood.

"You awake in there?" Paisley yelled from the living room, she sat at the dining table drinking her cup of coffee. "Yeah I'm awake." Myra stretched, flipping the blankets off her legs. Myra wore her usual red sleeved shirt and a pair of black shorts in to join her. "You excited for this evening?" Paisley was usually never up this early so you knew she was excited if she was up before Myra. "Yes, I've still got no reply from Dacre but maybe we will see him in the hair and makeup trailer today!"

The trailer door jiggled with someone on the other side speaking Myra's name in a sing song voice. "Myra James! Wakey wakey!" Myra flipped the lock opening the door wide. Mary stood there,a tray with 3 coffees inside. "Good morning ladies! You guys ready to get to work?" Paisley glanced at Myra in confusion. "What're we doing this morning?"

Myra takes the coffee Mary hands out to them. "We have got to help get everyone ready for the event tonight, hair and makeup!" Paisley was occupied with her phone, Myra waved her hand in front of her face handing over her coffee to her and repeating herself. "Sounds fun! We heading out now?" Mary nodded taking a sip from her steaming cup. "You going dressed like that?" Mary pointed to her 'Steve in the streets,Billy in the sheets' shirt. "No,god no. Give me just a minute and I will change!" She placed her cup down on the counter and rushed into her room changing her top and sliding on a pair of jeans.

"We are going to spend a couple hours getting everyone ready and then I will help you ladies get your hair done if you would like!" Paisley clapped with excitement, "Yes! I would love that! I was hoping maybe Joe would stop in too, we've been talking all night!" Paisley blushed fumbling her phone around in her hands. "I think I have him scheduled for this morning!"

"Well what are we waiting for?" Paisley pulled her hair up into a bun and shoved her phone into her back pocket, chugging down the rest of her coffee. Myra pulled on her shoes and the three of them left out her door,heading for the next trailer.

The smell of Aqua net hairspray filled the air, Millie and Sadie sat in their grooming chairs talking with Jane. Millie's hair was slicked back into low bun currently being sprayed down with spray while Sadie's hair was in a higher messier bun with a small piece of bangs hanging out. '"You ladies look great!" Myra smiled at them in the large mirror across the wall. They both thanked her, Mary then approached them with her makeup bag to start applying their foundations.

"Hope everyone is decent!" Joe spoke,swinging open the trailer door. Paisley's posture instantly changed and a large smile was plastered on her face. "We are all fine,sweetheart come on in!" Jane rang, applying the last fews touches to Sadie's makeup. "You're all done honey, head over to wardrobe and they'll get you ready there!" Sadie thanked the both of them and waved goodbye to Paisley,Myra and Joe.

"You ladies excited for tonight?" Joe took a seat in the spinning chair Sadie had just left. "Yes! This is the biggest event I have ever been too! I just hope my outfit will work!" She stood next to Mary's small desk leaning against it. "I'm sure whatever you are wearing will look great, you ready for all the questions Myra?"

Myra stopped fiddling with the comb in her hand and looked up at Joe. "Questions? I thought the questions were just for you guys.." Joe made an amused look before speaking, "No they ask all of us questions, the cast about how things are going so far and what other actors and actresses we are working with and the crew, they ask you guys about working with us and what's it like behind the scenes." Myra had no idea she would be answering questions, she just assumed she would be walking the carpet and then joining the crowd during the panel. "I am sure you will do great just give yourself a few seconds to think about the questions and then answer honestly!"

Jane dropped a large glob of hair gel into Joe's hair and began combing it back. "It's super easy honey, we will all be there and the crew will be together so if you get stuck just look to one of us!" Joe grunted as she tugged harder on his hair. "I would prefer to attend this event not bald, please and thanks!" He laughed along with them. Myra glanced on Mary's desk where a schedule sat with the cast's names on it. "Is Dacre not coming in today?" She searches down the page for his name. "No I guess he's going to do his own thing for hair and then get dressed! We will see him at the event don't worry!" Myra nodded, brushing off the uneasy feeling.

The next four hours went by and about another 20 people came in to get their hair and makeup done. Mary glanced at the watch on her wrist noticing the time, "We should be getting you ladies cleaned up and ready soon!" Paisley rushed to the empty chair flopping down inside, "I have always wanted to have my hair styled professionally! Can we do something curly and fancy? Please!" She presses her hands together in a dramatic plea. "We will try!" Jane plugged in her curling iron and waited for it to heat up. "What about you,M? Anything specific you'd like?" Myra shrugged unsure, she was use to the same thing everyday she wasn't sure how to change it up. "What about straightening it?" Paisley chimed.

It had been almost 5 years since Myra had straightened her hair, it always took her hours and only stayed that way for a few hours. "I'm not sure that will work out-" She was cut off by Mary. "I have got a heat serum that will keep it straight and if I work quickly it should only take me an hour!" Myra sat in the empty chair next to Paisley staring at her reflection. "Go for it!" She intertwined her fingers keeping her hands in her lap. Mary turned on the radio, making the two of them feeling like they were in their own little montage. Paisley sang along to the 'Material Girl' song playing over the speakers, while Jane twirled small curls through her hair.

Mary spun Myra around to face the mirror to see the finished product. Myra was stunned, her hair reached past her breast and was straighter then she had ever achieved it before. "It looks so great, thank you so much!" She ran her fingers threw the ends and smiled over to Paisley. "Pais, you look amazing!" She pulled on the curl hanging around her face watching it spring back up. "You ready to go get dressed?" Paisley stood up from her chair keeping her eyes on her reflection. "Yes! Thank you ladies so much! I can't wait to see you soon all dressed up!"

"The limo will be picking us up in about two hours near the front gate, we will all be riding together, be ready!" Paisley lead out the trailer door and Myra followed behind, glancing down at her phone again, sighing. "Still no reply from Dacre?" Myra shook her head no, quickly trying to change the subject. "He is probably just busy getting ready and hasn't had the chance to look at his phone!" Paisley nodded, agreeing. "Don't worry about it we will see him later, after we get all fancied up he will be drooling all over you!" Paisley nudged her, raising her brow.

It took Myra almost an hour to get her dress on and make up done so she spent the time waiting for Paisley. "You done yet?" She yelled into the bathroom. "Almost! My shoes aren't working with me!" She groaned, the sound of groaning came from the bathroom. A small knock came from the door, Myra made her way over cracking it open. "Hey I just wanted to stop by and see Paisley before we headed out!" Myra glanced to the bathroom door then back to Joe. "She's in the bathroom battling her shoes right now!"

"Who's here?" She shouted behind the bathroom door. "Joe, he wanted to stop by and see you before they left!" Myra shouted back. The bathroom door was swiftly swung open and Paisley came stomping out. "Joe, hey-hello..hi!" She stuttered around on her words,looking at his handsome appearance. Joe wore a multiple patterned shirt and a split colored blazer, both tan and black with a tan pair of pants to match it.  

"You look beautiful!" Joe smiled shoving his hands into his pockets. "Thank you, you look beautiful too. I-I uh mean handsome you look handsome!" Her face was covered in embarrassment. Joe's phone rang, he glanced down to read the contacts name. "I should get going they're waiting on me, you ladies look beautiful!" Paisley thanked him and raced to grab their bags so they could make it in time to the limo.

Paisley picked up her long dress racing across the pavement,Myra came trenching behind her to the long stretched out limo that stood waiting for them and the others. "I have never road in a limo before let alone something this amazing!" Myra stepped inside the brightly lit car, champaign and snacks waited for them at their seats and faint music played in the air.

"Oh alcohol!" Paisley snatched up a glass, relaxing back in her seat. The car door opened again Jane and Mary entered, both wearing black elegant dresses, Mary's was long and left a long trail behind her, Jane's was short and had small rhinestones covering the chest. "Look at you two!" Myra spoke in shock, she had never seen Mary in anything but shorts and old band t-shirts and Jane always wore holy jeans and tank tops. Both of their hair was always up and messy but now this wasn't the case they both had their hair down and fixed up, they looked like completely different people.

The wardrobe and camera crew joined them in the same limo, before the car took off to the venue. It was almost an hour away from them so the entire ride their everyone finished off the large champagne bottle and cleaned out the mini fridge of all it's snacks. Myra spent the entire ride checking her phone, hoping Dacre would have replied by now, only leaving herself disappointed.

The large venue was covered with bright lights and hundreds of people huddled around waiting for the cast. Fans held signs for the show and new reports stood waiting in front of their cameras. The first vehicle pulled up and Millie,Sadie,Gaten,Noah,Finn and Caleb. The crowd roared with joy cheering their names. Paparazzi yelled for them hoping to snap a photo of them for their magazines and new papers.

Myra stood in amazement, this was an absolute dream come true. The next limo arrived this time David, Winona,Cary,and Cara stepped out, the crowd continuing the waves of praise. Everyone slowly walked across the carpet, waving to people and stopping to pose for photos.

The final vehicle came now; Priah,Joe,Maya, Francesca and Dacre left the car, a tall blonde with a green printed dress stepped out behind Dacre holding onto his hand. Myra scrunched her brow in confusion. "Who's that?" Paisley asked looking out the car window at the girl. "I am not sure-" Myra did not have much time to think before they vehicle arrived at the entrance. Mary gave her a look of sorrow before taking her hand and helping her out of the car. "Put a smile on! This is going to be so much fun!" Myra snatched up Paisley's hand and pulled her along behind.

The carpet was soft and velvet red and the entire cast stood huddled at the end watching the crew walk across. The camera crew walked first, then followed but wardrobe, special effects and then hair and make up. All of their name's were announced, even Paisley's. Myra slowly strutted down the runway smiling at all the bright flashing lights, Paisley held tightly onto her hand smiling as well.

"This is so much fun!" She mumbled under her breath. Myra held back a laugh waving at a group of kids waving their way. "It is!" she giggled, stopping at the end of the carpet joining the other crew members as the Duffer brother's made their way across the carpet. Myra glanced to her side noticing the blonde girl clinging all over Dacre, running her finger's threw his hair and twirling his necklace around between her fingers.

"Where did she come from? Did Dacre ever mention having a girlfriend?"

"No.." Myra huffed, she wasn't going to let this ruin her evening, she was a place she had always dreamed of and it wasn't like her and Dacre were officially a thing so it didn't matter, at least she tried to convince herself it didn't.

The cast began filing inside the large convention center, finding their places on stage. Ten of the main cast members took their seats in the front preparing themselves for the questions of the reporters and fans.

"Millie," A report raised his mic towards the young girl on stage. "Are we going to see for Mileven in season 3?"

She nodded, smiling in Finn's direction. "You are, it's going to be a lot of young romance and I am excited for you guys to see it!"

"Maya!" A fan spoke up from her seat. "What's it like joining the Stranger Things cast?" Maya adjusted herself in the seat replying, "It has been an incredible experience, everyone is so nice and welcoming, this has truly become a second family for me!"

The questions went on for another hour when they announced they would be taking only a few more. A reporter quickly shot up his hand standing at attention. "Dacre! There has been a photo circulating online of you and a girl, Myra, who is rumored to be a new crew member on the show, are you two a thing?"

Dacre shook his head, letting out a snort. "No, no not at all she's just an employee. She's my assistant and I was showing her around that is all! I have a lovely girlfriend, Liv and we are very happy together!" He changed the subject by pointing to another reporter waiting his turn.

Dacre's words, shot Myra right in the chest. She knew she was just an employee but to hear it from Dacre's mouth made everything worse,she would have at least assumed they were friends. "He-he's not even going to acknowledge you.."

"It's ok..don't worry about it." Myra fought back every tear, Mary had spent so much time making sure she looked nice she didn't want to ruin any of it. Instead Myra would get even, Dacre would be nothing but a cast member to her; a cast member she at one point felt madly in love with. Paisley kept glancing over at Myra checking up on her, when they were called onto stage. "You're going to do great!" Myra tried to believe her words as she walked up sitting between Jane and Mary. The announcer went through the group introducing everyone, ending with Myra.

A hand shot up in the crowd, they had a question for Jane. "Are we going to see the iconic mullet on Billy again? Or will he have a surprising hair cut?" Jane pulled the microphone in and spoke, "We definitely stuck with the iconic mullet, but it has had some slight changes and I think everyone is going to love it, I know we do!" Multiple other questions were asked and Myra felt herself zoning out until her name was mention.

"Myra, referring back to the photo of you and Dacre, have you two become close on set since you're his assistant?" Myra felt anger come over her,being referred to as his assistant. She remembered what Joe had told her and took in a deep breath thinking of her next reply. "I have had such an incredible time helping everyone on set, I think I can agree with Maya I have become so close with everyone, they honestly are just like a second family!" She finished off with a warm smile and turned to face the others in the crowd. The report sat down with a dumbfounded look, scribbling something into his notepad.  

The rest of the evening went great,Myra avoided Dacre and his girlfriend, keeping herself surrounded by people and Paisley. She had the opportunity to meet more of the cast and some very powerful people in the film industry. Joe instantly made his way over to us after the cast had finished taking photos with everyone. "Myra..I'm so sorry.." He instantly spoke over the loud music. "Sorry? What did you do?" Myra finished her drink and looked between him and Paisley confused.

"I knew about Liv I knew he had a girlfriend, he has been saying they were going to break up and how terrible things were but I guess they changed their minds.. I'm so sorry!" He repeated again. "It's not your fault, it's mine. This is a job I am here to help people and get my school credits, I'm not here to mess around with some guy." Myra kept a strong front through the whole conversation and it even continued out for the rest of the night.

The event was slowly coming to an end and Myra had already finished 4 glasses of wine and 4 glasses of champagne prior. She wasn't drunk but she felt comfortable. "Are you still coming over to the house?" Mary appeared behind them in the crowd of people. Paisley shook her heading with excitement. "Yes! I brought my bathing suit and I am ready to swim!" Paisley tugged on Joe's arm smiling, "You're coming too right?" Myra knew by the amount of times Paisley had giggled she had way too much to drink too. "Yea I think Jane would kill me if I didn't!"

Mary's house was a huge white elegant home, which seemed to have been made of glass panels. The limo dropped them off at the front door, the front and backyard were already filled up with people. Mary smiled up at the home with a proud smile. "This is my place! The pool's in the back, there's a bathroom in the living room and upstairs you guys can change in! If you need anything help yourself!" She raced off to join Jane and a few others in the kitchen, where a large tub of alcohol sat occupying the table.

"I'm going to head upstairs and get changed, you coming along?" Paisley looked to Myra clutching her bathing suit. "Yeah let me grab a water and I will be right up!" Paisley strutted up the stairs walking down the long hall. Myra was pushing her way through the kitchen, repeating apologizes with every person she bumped into. She open the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water before being shoved forward hitting her shoulder against the door. She grunted,turning to come face to face with a beautiful blonde.

"I'm so sorry I was looking for a paper towel and everyone is just so crowded up in here!" The blonde reached down picking up the bottle of water she had knocked from Myra's hand. "That's ok, I am surprised I made it in here alive!" Myra joked, realizing the familiarities in the girl. She had changed clothes, she was now wearing a light pair of shorts and a purple shirt. "I'm Liv," She took a sip from her wine cooler, moving her eyes around the crowd of people. "It's nice to meet you, Liv!" Myra purposefully didn't tell Liv her name and Liv didn't even seem to notice. "I seem to have lost my boyfriend, that boy is always seeking off to hang out with the guys." She laughed at her own comment. "Oh there he is!" Dacre pushed between two guys bickering and stood behind Liv. "This is my boyfriend,Dacre" She moved a little so that Dacre now had a full view of Myra standing shocked in front of him.

Dacre's face fell flat-- not amused or embarrassed at all. "I know Myra," Dacre informed Liv, his arm wrapped around her lower waist. "She's my assistant on set." Liv nodded coming to realize. "Oh Myra I have heard so much about you!"

"y-you have?" Had Dacre really told Liv about her? And if he did what exactly did he tell her?

"Yes! he's told me how much help you are and how you helped come up with a great idea for a scene,he says you're very sweet!" Myra couldn't help but smile, it still felt nice to hear about the things he had said about her. Myra bit her tongue to tell Liv exactly what had happened, so she just continued to smile. "I should get upstairs and change for the pool! It was nice meeting you Liv, nice seeing you too Dacre!" Myra pushed back through the kitchen crowd and made her way up the stairs to join Paisley.

The long hallway was covered in awards Mary had won and photos of her in large groups of people, possibly the crew and cast she had worked with. The bathroom door was the first room on the right and the door was shut, maybe Paisley was still inside. She knocked on the door a few times, hearing giggling behind the door and the sound of two people scurrying around. "Hey, MJ!" Paisley cracked open the door,adjusting her bathing suit top. "Hey I was going to get changed so that we could go swim." Paisley glanced behind her and then opened the door the rest of the way, Joe stood tying his swim trunks up. Myra shook her head laughing, she wasn't hurt at all, she was happy for Paisley.

The bathroom had a blue nautical theme and smelt of cinnamon. Myra changed into her bathing suit and grabbed a large beach towel from the bathroom closet before heading out the door. She slid on her shoes no longer paying attention to where she was walking and ran directly into the person standing in front of her. "Oh-I'm so sorry!" She stepped back and looked up at Dacre now standing in front of her. "Myra.." He spoke in a soft voice. His gaze was fixated on the frown growing on her lips. "C-Could we maybe talk?"

Myra folded her arms across her chest as to barricade herself from him, Dacre stepped forward pulling them out of their crossed position. "Please talk to me.. let me explain!" Myra stepped away from him again. "There is nothing to talk about, I have to get downstairs they're waiting for me. It was nice seeing you, I will see you Monday!" Myra faked a smile, Dacre's shoulders dropped, he looked a bit wounded, but Myra felt no pity.

The music had been turned up and it felt as if the entire house was vibrating. The pool was nearly empty except for Paisley, Joe and two other people. Myra laid her towel down beside Paisley's things and joined them in the water. Paisley tugged her along through the water to the area where her and Joe had been standing. "So I heard about the great work you did with the sauna scene, you should talk them into letting you help with a scene for me!" Myra mood was sparked with slight enjoyment at this thought. "I would love that, maybe Monday I will ask!"

"I hate to bring it up but..what about Dacre?" Paisley mumbled into the red solo cup coming to meet her mouth. "What about Dacre? He has a girlfriend and I am just an assistant I have a job to do he isn't going to distract me from that!" Myra tried to not sobb through the line. Paisley kept Myra's back to the house,making sure she was distracted.  "Good I am proud of you!" Paisley offered her a cup of a mixture of random alcohols and Myra chugged it down, roughly coughing after almost inhaling it. She turned to throw the cup into the trash and noticed Dacre and Liv standing on the porch dancing with each other, Liv's hips pressed against Dacre's and them often sharing kisses.

"Can I have another one of those?" Myra pointed to the tray of drinks, the caterer's had been bringing around. "Please be careful!" Paisley spoke up in her nurturing voice. "I'm fine!" Myra waved off her comment and quickly chugged down another cup.

When the party started to come to an end Paisley and Myra were now sitting in two recliner chairs sitting near the fire. Joe stood on the porch and spoke with his friends. "What happened with you two in the bathroom?" Paisley instantly folded into an embarrassed look. "We uh we kissed and you know.." Paisley avoided the real explanation and Myra just laughed, happy for her friend. "Gotcha!" She slurred out. "You ready to head home? It's getting late and I think it's time we get you laid down." Myra nodded her head, her own vision going somewhat blurred. "I'm ready!"

Paisley readjusted her on the chair so she would not tumble off and went to inform Joe they were ready to leave. "You ready to get yourself home, James?" Joe laughed at her attempt at trying to sit up. Myra gave him a thumbs up and a slight giggle followed by a hiccup. Paisley hung up the phone after calling them an uber and told them it would be here in about 15 minutes. Paisley gathered all of their things into her bag and took Myra's dress and her own, throwing them over her arm. In the other hand she took hold of Myra and helped guide her to the front of the house. "You're my best friend I love you" Myra slurs,laying her head on Paisley's shoulder. "I love you too MJ" She pats her head and wraps the towel around her damp body.

Joe helped Paisley get Myra into their trailer and they laid her groaning body onto the bed, she instantly passed out. Paisley laid a large blanket across her body and quietly closed her down. "Thank you for the help!" Paisley turned to Joe with a sincere smile. "Anytime! You two get some sleep I will see you in the morning! We could even do breakfast if you'd!"

"Sounds great! See you tomorrow!" Paisley placed a kiss on Joe's cheek and opened the door for him. After he left she changed her clothes and instantly put herself to bed as well. The sound of vibrations caught her off guard and she checked her bag to see that Dacre was trying to call.

"Hello?" She spoke softly, not to wake Myra.

"Myra?"

"No, this is Paisley, Myra is sleeping!"

"oh-well- Paisley please understand that Myra means so much to me and I have so much going on in my life, it's just too hard to explain.."

"Well how about you get your life figured out first before you start ruining my friends, alright?"

Paisley hung up the phone after hearing a loud sigh from Dacre.

#dacre montgomery #dacre x reader #dacre imagine #dacre kayd montgomery #billy harrington #Billy Hargrove #billyhargrove #steve harrington #joe keery #netflix #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things

[nola-unchained]

SCREAM     FILM     FRANCHISE     PROMPTS   .

SCREAM   :

❛ Would you settle for a PG-13 relationship? ❜

❛ I’m sorry if my traumatized life is an inconvenience to your perfect existence. ❜

❛ You sick fucks. You’ve seen one too many movies! ❜

❛ Are you alone in the house? ❜

❛ We’re gonna play a little game. ❜

❛ My mom and dad are gonna be so mad at me! ❜

❛ When do we see breasts? I wanna see Jamie Lee’s breasts. ❜

❛ You cut me too deep. I think I’m dying here, man. ❜

❛ You take a knife and you slit ‘em from groin to sternum. ❜

❛ I will totally protect you. Yo, I am so buff, I got you covered, girl. ❜

❛ We ask you questions and if you get one wrong, boo-gah, you die. ❜

❛ What do I have to do to prove to you that I’m not a killer? ❜

❛ We already played that game, remember? ❜

❛ I mean did Norman Bates have a motive?  Don’t think so! ❜

❛ See, it’s a lot scarier when there’s no motive. ❜

❛ Oh, you wanna play psycho killer? ❜

❛ Oh, please don’t kill me, Mr. Ghostface.  I wanna be in the sequel! ❜

❛ Well, you’re not going to be alone any more, right? ❜

❛ There’s always some stupid bullshit reason to kill your girlfriend. ❜

❛ I never thought I’d be so happy to be a virgin. ❜

❛ What’s your favorite scary movie?  What comes to mind? ❜

❛ You hang up on me again and I’ll gut you like a fish, you understand? ❜

❛ Tell me something.  Did you really put her liver in the mailbox?  ❜

❛ This is the moment when the supposedly dead killer comes back to life, for one last scare. ❜

SCREAM   2   :    

❛ I’m not interrupting anything, am I?  ❜

❛ Have you ever felt a knife cut through human flesh and scrape the bone beneath? ❜

❛ You should really deal with your trust issues. ❜

❛ This is just the kind of guy you’d love to bring home to mom… if… you had… a mom. ❜

❛ I was just reading in your book about your last cameraman, the guy got gutted. ❜

❛ First of all: he wasn’t gutted. I made it up. His throat was slashed. ❜

❛ You know, you must be getting quite a lot of flak on that, right? ❜

❛ Your flattering remarks are both desperate and obvious. ❜

❛ Well, I was hoping I might get just a few words with you. ❜

❛ Tell us everything that’s happened, looking back on the last two years? ❜

❛ Whoa, Hey, hey, hey hey, Deep breaths, Lot of deep breaths. ❜

❛ Why do you always answer a question with a question? ❜

❛ Yeah, and I’m impatient. Look, do you want to leave a message for someone? ❜

❛ So, why don’t you show your face, you fucking coward? ❜

❛ The killer is trying to finish what was started. ❜

❛ If the killer is following a pattern, maybe we can figure out who’s next. ❜

❛ So what do you wanna do, bonehead? Sit here, wait and see who drops next? ❜

❛ Don’t you know history repeats itself? Hm? ❜

❛ I thought I was gonna be up there until opening night. ❜

❛ So, uh… what’s your favorite scary movie? ❜

❛ Is that the best you can do?  ❜

❛ “Drink with your brain.” That’s our motto.  ❜

❛ That shit only calls you when he’s drunk. Don’t go over there. ❜

❛ No matter how hard you try, you’ll never be the hero and you’ll never, ever get the girl. ❜

SCREAM   3   :

❛ Not only did they-did they kill the film, but they killed my cast.. ❜

❛ Variety called me a “pariah”. I don’t even know what a “pariah” is. ❜

❛ Oh, it’s hard being friends with you, [Name].  ❜

❛ When you’re friends with [Name], you die. ❜

❛ It’s time you came to terms with me and with mother! ❜

❛ I had no idea they were going to make a film of their own.  ❜

❛ Fucking kill me! You can’t fucking kill me! ❜

❛ So, why don’t you tell me, who you are? ❜

❛ Answer right, your girlfriend lives. ❜

❛ I’m sorry I’m running late. I’m still on the 405. I’m about 10 minutes away. ❜

❛ Uh, look, since I got you on the phone, let’s talk about your character, okay? ❜

❛ See? I don’t understand why I have to start the scene in the shower. ❜

❛ When it’s a threat, you’ll know it. ❜

❛ The killer is in the house and he’s upstairs! ❜

❛ The question isn’t who I am. The question is: Who’s with me? ❜

❛ Now, do you have somewhere we can be… alone? ❜

❛ If you do one thing to attract attention to yourself, one thing, I’ll kill them both. ❜

❛ I don’t want them. I want you. It’s simple. You show yourself, they survive. ❜

❛ I’ll call you when you’re on your way. ❜

❛ How do I know they’re not dead already? ❜

❛ What’s the matter? What are you staring at? ❜

❛ You’re gonna pay for the life you stole from me, [Name]. ❜

❛ You did it all. You did it! You call them all, even your closest… friends. ❜

❛ How do you know you’re not hearing things? How do you know I’m not someone in your head? ❜

SCREAM   4   :

❛ You forgot the first rule of remakes: “Don’t fuck with the original”. ❜

❛ Oh, my God, I love it. I’ve seen it five times and still gets me every time. ❜

❛ Am I, or did whoever make it just underthink it? ❜

❛ Don’t we hear enough of this story every year? ❜

❛ I’m not trying to scare you.. ❜

❛ This is the last person you’re ever gonna see alive.  ❜

❛ You’re in my movie, you got a fun part, so don’t blow it. ❜

❛ People live and people die, and you’d better start running! ❜

❛ And I like him - To tease, to torment, to make him squirm! ❜

❛ Sorry about that. Just… making around before taking off. ❜

❛ It’s okay. I mean, you had… a lot of stuff… going on back then. ❜

❛ I think I have just enough time to slice someone open! ❜

❛ You do know there are cops all over the house? ❜

❛ You think this is all about you? You think you’re still the star? ❜

❛ You’ve done very well by all this bloodshed, haven’t you? ❜

❛ Well, how about the town you left behind? ❜

❛ I’m gonna slit your eyelids in half so you don’t blink when I stab you in the face. ❜

❛ But if you wanna be in the hospital, I’d be happy to put you there - in the morgue! ❜

❛ It’s kind of the one component the killer is missing. ❜

❛ You film your entire high school experience, and, what, post it on the 'net? ❜

❛ Well, if you wanna be the new, new version, the killer should be filming the murders. ❜

❛ Working on less of a Shrequel and more of a Screamake. ❜

❛ Ah, friends count, but it’s the family ties that cut deep. Am I right? ❜

❛ The ones you care about most. And what’s closer than family? The bond of blood. ❜

#unchained:meme #meme weekend

[towaniegaita]

MeseMoa. who trended when the members kissed each other - "My desire comes out strongly in my underwear" and a naked confession

This is an interview from modelpress published on 2nd November 2017 to mark the release of Tomitake and Nibansenji’s solo photobooks. Here’s the link for the original Japanese text and the photo gallery.

Unfortunately I couldn’t find an author to give credit to other than modelpress Editorial Department, and M-Up Inc. for the photos and article sponsorship.

I’ve done my best to translate it but there are still a few places that I’m unsure about. If you notice any mistakes please let me know and I’ll do my best to rectify them. 

The 9 member boys group MeseMoa. was formed in 2012 on a video sharing website. The 'self-proclaimed idols', who completed a nationwide 47 prefecture tour in 2016, have faced a sudden rise in popularity. In the MV for their song Shadow Kiss, included on their 1st album Secret that was released in April this year, the members shocked the world by kissing each other and became a hot topic. It was announced that 2 of those members, Tomitake and Nibansenji, will release their own fashion books this winter.

Starting with the first photobooks of the members who boast outstanding style, we talked frankly about their winter fashion and their views on love.

Does Tomitake practise his poses in front of the mirror?

How did you feel when you first heard that you were releasing these photobooks?

Tomitake: Because we're idols, I didn't expect we'd have the opportunity to release photobooks in the way that fashion models do, so I was surprised. I couldn't believe that a stylist who works for famous fashion magazines would do the styling for us!

Nibansenji: I've taken a step into a world that I'd thought was irrelevant to me, so somehow I still don't get the sense that it's something that I've done. Even when I look at the photos that have been taken of me, my reaction is more like, "I've seen this kind of photo somewhere before!" (laughs)

What kind of fashion tastes did you have shootings in?

Tomitake: Within MeseMoa., my image is soft and cute, so in contrast to that there was a lot of cool fashion this time around. I was hoping for a wild, masculine kind of styling. That's why I think that people who know me as Tomitake from MeseMoa. will find so many never before seen versions of me included in the book. But we also shot some cute scenes where my true nature just jumped out. I dragged Niban into it as well (laughs).

Nibansenji: I was well and truly dragged in.

Tomitake: I dragged him in for the cuts in the animal costumes (laughs). I'd said that I wanted to take some photos dressed as a rabbit, and they made that come true. I was a rabbit…

Nibansenji: And I was a giraffe. I'm tall so a giraffe seems pretty close to my image. Tomitake was a rabbit just because he likes them.

Tomitake: Right (laughs). From what I've seen, Niban generally wore a lot of beautiful fashion.

Nibansenji: I wore loads of clothes that I usually wouldn't, but my personal experience of the shooting was that it was less like a photobook and more like shooting for a slightly casual fashion magazine. Personally I think that in the photos we took, it wasn’t that the clothes looked good because I was wearing them, nor that I looked good because of the clothes, but that the clothes and I had a pretty harmonious balance (laughs).

I'm sure you've taken on various jobs as part of MeseMoa., but did you have any previous experience being fashion models?

Tomitake: Not really, so it was pretty difficult. For example, Niban had this cut where he was wearing a beret. Wearing a beret as part of a costume and trying to express the natural way it would be worn during everyday life seemed difficult to me when I was watching.

When shooting for fashion purposes, you have to think about the best way to show off the clothes while you're working.

Tomitake: Right! I learnt so many new things while we were shooting.

Did you make any special preparations before the shooting? Maybe checking your poses in the mirror?

Tomitake: Nope! I did…not at all (laughs).

Nibansenji: I didn't either, but I'm pretty sure Tomitake was definitely posing for the mirror (laughs).

Tomitake: I didn't! (laughs) There wasn't anything particularly troubling for this shooting. Often I watch overseas dramas that have fashion as their main theme, and I like to check fashion magazines if I have time, so maybe I just naturally absorbed some information about posing and stuff from there.

Nibansenji, the 'raw gemstone' that dulls as soon as it's been polished

Apart from dramas and magazines, how do you learn about the latest fashion?

Tomitake: I also use Instagram and other social media. Overseas fashion and Japanese fashion can be completely different so it's fun to look at. I actually prefer flashy clothes, but I tend to choose plain clothes for my everyday wear…I'm Japanese after all (laughs). That's why I was really glad to wear the clothes I actually wanted to wear this time.

Tomitake seems to take a lot of interest in fashion, but we've heard that Nibansenji is the complete opposite.

Nibansenji: I honestly don't care.

Tomitake: (laughs)

Nibansenji: I don't read fashion magazines or check fashion on the net. Most of the clothes I regularly wear are presents from fans…actually today's clothes are pretty much all presents (laughs). I don't have anything I'm particular about, but because I'm tall it's hard for me to find a size that fits. That's why when it came to the shooting I really didn't know how to act. Probably the first thing I asked was, "What should I do?". When it comes to MeseMoa., we usually shoot as a group of 9 or at least on a set with someone else so I'm used to that. But I really didn't know what to do when I was shooting alone, especially since I was trying to show off the clothes for the camera, so that was tough.

Tomitake: Niban honestly never buys clothes by himself. And this jacket he's wearing today? I'm pretty sure he's been wearing that same one for years and years (laughs).

Nibansenji: It's probably been about 5 years. I take care of my possessions.

Tomitake: You never change your wallet either, do you?

Nibansenji: I've been using this one for about 10 years now (laughs).

Tomitake: See! The way he takes care of things is just in a completely different league to me. He always uses things for several years, so I'd say in a way he's good at buying items that aren't influenced by trends (laughs).

Nibansenji: All the things I like are basically the same. So if you think that you haven't seen me using something for a while, please just assume that it was torn or broken (laughs). I do hear about some trends, and think that they're cool or unusual. But I don't leave the house unless I have plans, so the variation in clothes I wear outside will probably never increase.

Does that mean that you never really consider going out to buy clothes?

Nibansenji: Not really. Sometimes I'll go shopping if somebody invites me though.

Tomitake: He says that, but we've known each other for years now and yet I've only been shopping with him once and that was when we were abroad (laughs). I want to see him wearing lots of different clothes, so I'm persistent in inviting him. Niban can pull off stylish clothes, so we members try to get him to wear various things. By the way, I think of him as a 'dulled gemstone' (laughs). A gemstone that rarely lets you polish him, and when you think you've managed he grows dirty again in an instant…All of his own accord. Even though he's been nicely polished, he deliberately walks right back into the mud.

Niban: It's like, 'The polishing's done now? Sweet, I'm off to roll around in the mud' (laughs). Staff members often say I look completely different when I'm wearing our outfits and have had my hair and makeup done.

By the way, have you bought any trending fashion items recently?

Nibansenji: Last year I bought a blouson jacket from MA-1.

Tomitake: The most recent one was last year? (Laughs) It's true though, when I was at school I'd often talk about the latest fashion and trends with my friends, but as a group we prioritise music and dance instead. Honestly, we members rarely ever talk about fashion together.

Underwear particulars and confessions

Were there any outfits or items used during the shooting that you especially liked?

Tomitake: I had an on-location shoot in a leather biker jacket, and I really like that kind of rock-style, it packs a punch. I also came to like clothes that show off my body line.

Nibansenji: I wonder what I liked.

Tomitake: What I liked when I saw your photos were the outfits that used colour! Since you usually wear completely plain outfits. That orange knitwear and other slightly brighter clothes suit you surprisingly well!

Nibansenji: You think so? I tend to wear loose clothes, but I think maybe clothes that show my body line suit me more. However I still can't handle clothes that feel really tight to my body…

Speaking of, do you have any particulars when it comes to underwear?

Nibansenji: I won't wear anything other than trunks! Tight clothes and tight underwear are both bad.

Tomitake: You seem not to care about your underwear. That's why I always tell him to stop wearing pants that look like a middle schooler would buy them with their pocket money (laughs). By the way, I prefer boxers. My desire to wear flashy clothes comes out strongly in my choice of underwear, so I like to wear bright patterns. But today they're just a simple blue! (laughs)

Thanks for letting us know (laughs). We've heard that more and more people are moving away from wearing trunks, but how's the situation among those you know?

Nibansenji: Nobody else except me wears them. That's why Tomitake and even others ask me if I don't want to change. But I still don't like boxer types…

Tomitake: He'll probably be wearing trunks his whole life (laughs). One time he stayed over at my place and I lent him an entire outfit, including underwear. At the time he said he'd put up with it for a short while, but it was clear even then that he wouldn't want to keep wearing them. Or he could go full circle and start wearing fundoshi (laughs).

Nibansenji: That's never happening! (laughs)

Analysing their ideal types of women

Are there any items of women's fashion that you specifically like to see?

Tomitake: If Niban were to start talking about girls' fashion here, even his fans would get mad and wonder what the hell he's talking about (laughs).

Nibansenji: Especially since my own fashion is so slapdash (laughs). I guess it's okay to say that you like certain things, but if you start to say that you don't like something then it gets difficult, right?

Tomitake: That'd be so annoying! (laughs) I like seeing people who stick firmly to their principles, or seem to be having a lot of fun with their fashion. On a basic level, my eyes are drawn to flashy clothes. I'll probably see a lot of leather items that excite me in the coming season. But I also like a sweet and spicy mix, like a biker jacket over a dress or something.

Nibansenji: A sweet and spicy mix…?

Tomitake: It's a style that mixes sweet, feminine items with cool items. If I saw someone wearing a biker jacket over a pretty red dress I'd definitely look at them and think, 'What a cool rock style!'. But I also like very sweet, cute outfits. Also I think girls who can pull off woollen hats and berets have a high fashion sense. Berets in particular seem like they'd be hard to match with your clothes, but they leave such a girly impression so they're an interesting item.

Nibansenji: Damn…there's so many words flying around that I've never heard before (laughs).

Tomitake: Make sure you're following along properly! (laughs)

Nibansenji: I'll remember the sweet and spicy mix (laughs). I can't really give a concrete idea of fashion I particularly like, but for me as long as the person suits the clothes they're wearing then I think that's good fashion. But I do get intrigued when someone has a 'gap', I quite like that. Take our fans for example, if there's a girl who always wears skirts and suddenly one day she turns up in pants, then in my mind I'm kind of like, "Oh!". This is pretty clichéd , but I also like fluffy clothes.

Tomitake: You say all that but I can't even picture the type of girl you'd like. I think you can easily imagine my type though.

Nibansenji: Yeah. A dazzling girl, wearing black leather clothes that show her body line with her nails neatly painted. And uniform length hair.

Tomitake: Ah~ You know me so well. I like girls who are like divas from overseas. Like Beyoncé (laughs). A tsundere but without the 'dere' part (laughs). I like to be the one doing the chasing…I think.

Nibansenji:  Well, you tend to go for a pretty dazzling look when you crossdress.

They do say that when men crossdress, they tend to choose the style of their ideal woman.

Tomitake: I get that! My crossdressing was pretty damn dazzling (laughs). Niban dresses like a quiet girl who seems like she'd spend time reading books in the library. But then when she takes her glasses off she's really beautiful!

There's the 'gap' as he said.

Tomitake: What I can tell is that he prefers girls who aren't so flashy. This is kind of a different subject, but Niban is really close to what many girls hold as their 'ideal boyfriend'. I've got a lot of peculiar traits so there's a clear divide between those who like me and those who don't, but Niban's not like that - he's the type to be liked by everybody. Just saying it out loud annoys me! (Laughs)

Following on from your types, could you tell us about how to capture each other's interests?

Tomitake: Niban says that he's sloppy, and from the outside he seems like he's not too bothered about the fine details, but sometimes he's very particular about certain things that make you wonder why. I guess it depends on how you would approach that. He's not the type to get fussy over lots of things, but nobody understands his targets except him, so you might have to keep an open mind with him.

Nibansenji: I guess so. I think for Tomitake, it's best to firmly take the lead but also indulge him a little on the side. It's definitely better to take control over him. You need to be the type who'd tell him to stop hesitating over the same thing forever and a day.

Tomitake: You might be right! I don't think I could fall in love with someone who's not firmer than I am. Someone who can get things done makes me want to chase after them. If they were to say, 'Follow me!', I'd just be like, 'Yes!'. That's why I only need the 'tsun' part of a tsundere (laughs). Ah, but when it comes to our fans I like people who are kind and cheerful!

The photobooks are connected to the dream MeseMoa. is aiming for

It looks like you'll be holding lots of events around the release of the photobooks. What kind of events would you like them to be?

Tomitake: It's been a long, long time since we did an event with just the two of us. In the past Niban didn't really talk much, but recently he's become more proactive.

Nibansenji: I can talk in situations where my speaking partner won't, but if I'm with someone who talks a lot then I don't really speak.

Tomitake: Are you calling me a chatterbox? (laughs) Well then, this time I'll leave it to you. But when you start talking, you keep going for ages! (laughs) I'd like to give these events a sense of being special, but also with our usual unchanging atmosphere. Everything we're doing right now is all working towards the dream that MeseMoa. is aiming for. That includes the photobooks. The opportunities are increasing for many people to see our photos lined up in the bookshop, so that becomes part of MeseMoa.'s dream.

Nibansenji: We're really grateful for this chance. I'd like it to be seen by lots of people who are seeing us for the first time, but also both Tomitake and I believe we've taken some photos that will really satisfy our current fans, so I hope everyone is looking forward to it.

Thank you very much.

#interview #02.11.2017 #mesemoa #musumen #tomitake #nibansenji #modelpress #jpop #idol #fashion #model #photobook

[you-imagine-i-write]

Saviour (mine or yours?)

SURPRISE, IT’S ME!! This is literally the first thing I've been able to write in longer than a year and it’s help remind me what pleasure I get from writing. On May 20th I have my final University exam before I take a gap year dedicated to doing the thing I love - writing! I aim to finish my first novel and hope to be significantly more active on here so I hope to provide you with a lot of content and hear your thoughts on it or requests for more!

Summary: OUAT Peter Pan x Reader. Charming and co decide it’s a good idea to kidnap the person that Pan cares about most, Hook realises that that’s a very bad idea. You, on the other hand, are having great fun being kidnapped and can’t wait for Pan to show up and cause some hell for the idiots who came up with this plan.

Word Count: 1,611

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The man standing over you was one you recognised, Prince Charming in all his glory; you and Pan liked to watch his little group run around Neverland like they own the place, oh how it made you laugh.  

“Charming, how wonderful to finally meet you! I’ve been watching you for so long I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever get the joy of talking to you,” you giggled, staring unbothered down the line of the Prince’s sword.

David stooped to untangle the net he’d caught you in, trying his hardest to convince himself that this was for the good of his son as he brought out some rope from a bag on his back.

“Stand up, please. I need to bind your hands and take you back to our camp,” Charming said, struggling to keep eye contact with your piercing gaze and maintaining a delightful air of politeness.

You grinned widely and clapped your hands. “Oh, we’re going for a walk, how lovely! Care to give a lady a hand up?”

David’s eyes narrowed and he contemplated it for a second before holding his hand out in front of you, sword still pointed closely at your throat.

You reached out to grasp his hand firmly, pulling yourself up in a fluid motion until you were next to the prince’s ear with a sword pressed against your neck. You whispered, “It’s only fair to warn you, hurt a hair on my head and you won’t leave Neverland alive.”

Startled, Charming pulled back and hurriedly began tying the rope around your hands, trying to ignore the nerves your words created.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be threatening me.”  

You laughed out loud at this, “Me? Hurt you? Oh, I wouldn’t hurt a fly, Charming. But it’s not me you should be worried about.”

A dangerous glint formed in your eye, the one that usually followed the devilish grin you were currently sporting. You revelled in watching the Prince’s demeanour change as he realised to whom you were referring, and his eyes suddenly began to flicker rapidly around the silent trees in search of an attack.

“We’re going to the camp now,” he said firmly, “turn around and walk in front of me, don’t get any ideas.”

You span around with a flourish, delighted with the attention you were receiving and were sure to soon receive from Pan as you skipped through the forest, practically tugging the Prince along as he held onto the rope trailing from your bound hands. You didn’t bother to register the sword pressed into your back, simply choosing to enjoy the deviation from your usual routes around Neverland.

When the pair of you arrived at the camp of adults, all eyes quickly turned to you and you were met with an array of confused and apprehensive faces. You did, however, see a face you recognised very much and enjoyed watching his jaw drop when he realised the severity of dear Prince Charming’s actions.

“What the hell have you done this time?” Hook practically yelled across the clearing, storming towards you with a manic fear in his eyes.

As the pirate moved to untie your hands, David brandished his sword at him and asked in an incredulous tone, “What are you doing? You said Pan has a female he holds in high regard, so I’m giving him an incentive to return Henry to where he belongs.”

“Given Pan an incentive to kill you slowly and painfully more like,” Hook yelled, throwing his arms about with agitation. “You need to let her go right now before Pan turns up and stops your heart for touching her.”

Watching the situation unfold had been far more entertaining than you had expected and once more you found yourself laughing, “You think I’m here against my will? If that were the case Pan would have killed you already, he’s just letting me have a little bit of fun – I never seem to get out of the house these days.”

The witch, Regina, piped up. The others you could have fun with, the witch you simply disliked.

“If she’s so important to him, maybe Pan will trade her safety for Henry’s,” she growled, already stalking towards you.

Not liking the fire in the witch’s eyes, you took a step back from her approach and smiled, “Bored now.”

You let a high pitched and impressively loud whistle leave your lips and Hook swore extensively.

“Now you’ve done it, you bloody women,” he groaned.

Eyes narrowing in anger, Regina raised her arm and your whistle was silenced in your throat as magic trapped it there, along with your ability to breathe. A strangled noise barely had time to escape your lips before the leaves in the forest swirled in a familiar pattern.

Why should you care about something as stupid as breathing when your own prince had arrived right on cue?

“I believe you have something of mine,” Peter’s voice swirled around in the breeze until his body followed, a dangerous look on his face.

The invaders’ medley of weapons were quickly pointed towards where Pan stood at the edge of the clearing, and Prince Charming bravely spoke, “We could say the same to you.”

Air rushed back into your lungs as Regina’s throat was closed just as yours had been and Peter had a delightfully malicious grin as he said, “I don’t think you should be saying anything to me that’s not your deepest apologises or best attempts at convincing me not to kill all of you right now. Y/N is not part of our game and her involvement will not be tolerated.”

As the sound of Regina choking filled the trees, the women you recognised as Snow White rushed to her side while Emma and the prince brandished their weapons and Hook tried to appear as apologetic as possible.

“Let Regina go, Pan. We don’t want trouble, we just want Henry,” Emma pleaded.

“You should have thought of that before you got Y/N involved,” Pan growled, “It’s a shame, I was having such a fun time playing our little game – unfortunately now I have to kill you.”

Emma was the next to lose the ability to breathe, and it was Charming who dropped his weapon to rush to her. Leaving yourself unarmed to assist a comrade when there’s nothing that you can do about it? The selflessness of it intrigued you; selflessness was not in abundance on Neverland.

Suddenly deciding (definitely not because of the pure desperation in Charming’s eyes as he watched Emma suffer) that watching these adults run about could be more entertaining than watching them die, you piped up, “Peter. I’m bored, I want to go home.”

That was all that needed to be said and in a flash you were in your sweet prince’s strong arms, and with a gust of wind you were back in your tent.

Releasing a sigh to remove the adrenaline that you no longer had interest in keeping in your body, you fell back onto the soft covers of your bed with a smile.

“You know, a person who didn’t know you as well as I do may have thought you were actually concerned about my safety back there, Peter,” you giggled, amused by the idea of the great Peter Pan allowing himself to feel anything at all. “You know I think you’re becoming attached to me.”

Pan stared deeply into your eyes with a deadpan expression, and you forced your face to do the same. He grunted, “If anyone asks, I’ll deny everything.”

The deadpan expressions gave way to matching grins, as the pair of you allowed the facades necessary to survive Neverland to fall away. Pan stood up from the bed and made to leave your tent, all this genuine emotion obviously too much for him.

Needing something more, you sat up abruptly and smiled shy at the idea of the vulnerability you were about to offer to Peter. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Thank you” was not something often said on Neverland, it was an announcement of your debt to another person and often seen by some of the boys as a relinquishment of power to another person.

If the statement was one that shocked Pan, he didn’t let it show, breezing past it and instead saying, “What were you saying about being bored? We could do with going on a hunt, I know how killing things keeps you entertained.”

Clapping your hands in approval you let the wide grin spread across your face again as you rolled off the bed to try and find your bow. “Oh, you know me so well, Peter Pan.”

He was silent for a second, before his voice sounded considerably closer to you than he had been, “I should be thanking you for saving me, you do it every time I look at you.”

Shocked by the very idea of Pan himself using such a taboo phrase, let alone the vulnerability he allowed himself to show by using it in such a sincere sense, your mouth fell open. When you turned with astonishment to see where Peter had teleported to, your lips were captured in a passionate kiss. You allowed yourself to melt into it, not knowing when Peter’s walls would come down again and fall back into being Pan.

After some time, your lips were released, and you sighed in contentment before opening your eyes to meet Peter’s, “Oh yeah, you’re definitely not attached to me...”

“I could have you kidnapped again in seconds, don't test me.”

Laughter filled the tent as the pair let themselves embrace vulnerability, if only for a minute.

#my writing #peter pan imagine #peter pan fanfic #peter pan fanfiction #ouat imagine #ouat fanfic #ouat fanfiction #ouat peter pan #ouat peter pan fanfic #ouat peter pan imagine #ouat peter pan fanfiction #peter pan x reader #peter pan x reader imagine #peter pan x reader fanfic #peter pan x reader fanfiction #ouat peter pan x reader #ouat peter pan x reader imagine #ouat peter pan x reader fanfic #ouat peter pan x reader fanfiction

[elo-kodon]

Untitled Iwaoi Short Story #1

(Part 1 here)                             

                                                        PART 2

           “That was such a great dinner, Auntie! I’m completely stuffed, right Iwa-chan?” Oikawa exclaims happily, his voice carrying through the small house in bright, musical tones.

           Iwaizumi receives a short but painful jab to his side with Oikawa’s elbow. The movement almost makes him drop the dinner plate he’s scrubbing into the soapy water. He gives Oikawa a short, annoyed look before responding. “Yes, thanks so much!” he calls out hurriedly.

           “Ohh it was no trouble at all boys,” Oikawa’s aunt says, gracefully gliding down the stairs in her long, summery-red pleated skirt.

           Once Iwaizumi had met Oikawa’s aunt, her sophisticated and bubbly personality was one of the first things he noticed about her. She gave the boys a warm hug, welcomed them in, and immediately turned to Iwaizumi. “Now Iwaizumi dear, let’s do away with the formalities for now. Why don’t you just call me Hisako? Goodness knows all my colleagues already do.” Hisako waved her left hand air in a quick flourish and lead the boys into her house. She showed Oikawa and Iwaizumi to their room upstairs. “I’ll leave you two to unpack for a while. I’ve got to head back downstairs to finish up dinner. Feel free to join me whenever you boys are ready to eat!”

           “She’s great, isn’t she?” Oikawa threw his duffel bag onto the ground, turning back to Iwaizumi proudly, “Mom says she’s a spitfire, but I like her a lot! She’s always been there for me, ya know?”

           Iwaizumi considers Oikawa’s past words as he continues to work on the last of the dinner plates. It’s no surprise that Oikawa would like her. Hisako had a lot of qualities that reminded him of his best friend. Their determined attitudes and boundless energy were practically the same. No wonder Oikawa was so excited to make the trip up here.

           Hisako calls out from the other room. “If you two are about done with the dishes, would you mind meeting me in the living room in a bit? I’d love to show you a few of my designs for the show on Sunday. Tooru, you also need to hear the rundown of the itinerary so you know what to expect.”

           Once the boys get done cleaning up, they join Hisako on her pink and blue floral patterned couch. It’s a cozy fit with all three of them, Hisako on the far left, Iwaizumi on the far right, and Oikawa snugly in the middle.

           Tucking a loose strand her wavy black hair behind her ear, Hisako reaches down to the side of the couch, picks up a thick shiny black binder and hands it to Oikawa to open. He carefully takes the huge binder from her and opens to one of the first tabbed pages.

           “So for this particular show, since it’s still only my second one, I really wanted to focus on kids’ streetwear. I’ve noticed that a lot of students like to have clothing that’s still modern and practical, but also wear things that fit to their own unique sense of style…”

           They spend the next half hour pouring through the thick and colorful pages of Hisako’s designs. Oikawa listens with keen interest as his aunt talks to them about her ideas and underlying concepts with model’s outfit. It seems like with each particular outfit and pattern, Hisako has a wonderful remark or funny story to recount on each model.

           “You see now why I wanted you to join me on this project Oikawa? I really need students with strong personalities, since the show’s main concept is based around stories of youth. So, this is where you come in…”

            Oikawa lounges back while he listens to his aunt talk about what she has planned for his design. He loves hearing about Hisako’s stories and inspiration behind everything, but he can’t help but wonder if Iwaizumi is starting to feel a little left out. Carefully, out of the corner of his eye, he slowly and surreptitiously directs his gaze to Iwaizumi. With Hisako’s voice still in the background, he puts his hearing on autopilot for a few moments while he stares at his best friend.

           Iwaizumi has his knees brought up to his chest, his hands wrapped around them as he gazes down at the sketch of Oikawa’s proposed design for the show. Oikawa’s breath hitches softly as he scans Iwaizumi’s face. There’s a fondness to the boy’s dark eyes, his lips are slightly pursed. It reminds Oikawa of how Iwaizumi used to look at him when they were children. But there’s also something else to it… With a confused realization, it dawns on him. Iwaizumi looks like he’s concentrating on something. Like he’s drinking in the design on Hisako’s drawing, trying to memorize the curve of each pencil marking, of each splotch of color on the roughly sketched pattern. Iwaizumi’s left hand reaches down to feel the small piece of fabric stapled onto the bottom right corner of the page. Oikawa catches his eye once Iwaizumi turns to pretend to look at Hisako.

           Iwaizumi locks the back of his jaw once he realizes Oikawa’s caught him staring. The pair lock eyes for a second. The light brown irises of Oikawa fixate on his own, like a curious tiger pup. Iwaizumi ducks his head down towards his lap, knowing that the heat traveling up his neck and onto his cheeks are definitely noticeable. “Stupid idiot…” he thinks.

           Goosebumps appear on Oikawa arms as he slowly averts his eyes. “Weird…Why did Hajime blush just now?”

           Guess he’d have to tackle that question later.

———————————————————————————————————

                                                       *Saturday*

           “Here you go!” Hisako sings out, beaming down at Iwaizumi and Oikawa, setting down a plate of pancakes and two tall glasses of strawberry-and-kewi smoothies in front of them. “Now, Tooru, dear, just so you know, I’m gonna be out at the office in town for the majority of this afternoon and the evening, so you’ll have to be in charge of making sure this young man,” she gestures to Iwaizumi, “gets fed a good dinner, okay? There’s a nice little market about a few miles still outside of town that you two can drive over to pick up whatever you’d like. I’d make dinner for you both but I need to stay late at the studio tonight so we can finish paperwork and make any last minute adjustments before the show tomorrow.”

           Oikawa nods eagerly and salutes his aunt, “Of course Auntie, you can count on me! Can’t wait to see my outfit in person tomorrow, I bet it’ll make all the girls swoon!”

           Hisako lets out a sparkling laugh, “Oh, I’m sure, Tooru.” She puts her breakfast dish in the sink, walking over to the front door to grab her sweater and her large canvas bag. “Hope you two have fun hanging out today! There’s a great beach nearby that you boys should go to if you have the time. I’ve got to run, take care now!” Iwaizumi and Oikawa hear the final few clacks of her shoes as she shuts the screen door behind her and walks down the steps of the front porch towards her car. They hear her engine start and then she’s off.

           “God, you really are a putz” mutters Iwaizumi, lightly smacking the back of Tooru’s head.

           “Not my fault you don’t know how to talk to women, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says as he attempts to dodge Iwazumi, but ultimately failing.

           Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and gets up from his chair. He didn’t feel like bickering with Oikawa today. He was in too good of a mood, plus he really wanted to go somewhere with Oikawa to play volleyball anyways.

           “Sooooo Iwa-channn what’s on the agenda for today?” Oikawa asks. He stands up from his chair and stretches out his tall torso, his arms almost touching the bottom of the fan in the kitchen.

           “Wanna do a practice match somewhere?”

           “Hmmm. Yes, but I also wanted to check out that beach Auntie mentioned. Not like we really have a beach back home.”

           “Why don’t we do both? We can set up a court once we find a good spot.” Iwaizumi suggested.

           “Ohhh a beach match? You’re on, mothman.”

           Iwaizumi lets out a small, soft “Dumbass” under his breath, then quickly runs up the stairs to grab their duffels, Oikawa slowly following up after him.

———————————————————————————————————-

           Oikawa’s high-pitched falsetto voice pierces Iwaizumi’s ears while he tries to keep concentrating on the winding road in front of him. He sings out another lyric of the weird country song that they happened to discover on the local radio a few minutes ago.

           “Joooooooooooleeeenne, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Puh-LEASE don’t take my maaannn. Even though you totally caaannn-“ Oikawa drawls out in a feminine, old-lady voice, intentionally fucking up the lyrics.

           Iwaizumi lets out another round of loud barking laughter. He forgot how genuinely funny Oikawa can be once he lets his guard down. But that usually only happens when it’s just the two of them together. He scrunches up his eyes, tears of laughter pricking at the outer edges of his eyelids. He’s laughing and smiling so much that his jaw is starting to get sore. “S-stop it you bastard, you’re gonna make me crash this damn car.”

           Oikawa grins over at Iwaizumi, his eyes crinkling at the edges. He turns back forward and smiles quickly to himself. He absolutely loves Iwaizumi’s laugh. The sound never gets old. “Damn, what a stupid song. Who the fuck is Jolene??”

           “I don’t-“ Iwaizumi tries to respond but is stopped by another round of laughter. “I don’t know man, but she’s got some issues apparently. I feel kind of bad for her, honestly.”

           “Eh, not bad enough,” Oikawa grins. “Since when does Japan have American country stations? Is this a new fad or some shit?”

           “I have no idea.”

           “Oh, Iwa-chan, there’s the turn up ahead!” Oikawa says hurriedly, leaning forward in his seat.

           Iwaizumi turns off the main route onto another small, dusty dirt road. As they make a couple more turns, the truck spits up dust.

           “Oh wow, is this sand?” Oikawa tries to squint through the yellowish haze.

           “I guess so. We must be close.”

           They head around a row of trees and then make one final turn. Iwaizumi parks in one of the faded parking spots, then kills the engine. It doesn’t take too long to unpack the bed of the truck. With both duffel bags slung around Iwaizumi and Oikawa carrying the net bag, they walk down a sandy path to the beach below.

           They find a good, flat area of sand and throw down their bags. Iwaizumi sets up the volleyball net while Oikawa takes off his flip flops. He unpacks the volleyballs, water bottles, and snacks.

           “Hey, ‘kawa, the net’s done.”

           “Lit.”

           Iwaizumi throws the net bag down near the duffels and Oikawa takes a couple minutes to mark the edges of each side of the court using a stick. He squints at the line on each side, then runs over to the other side to check the dimensions.

           “It’s fine, Oikawa. Let’s play already.” Iwaizumi drawls.

           “Fine, fine.” Oikawa takes his sunglasses off and perches them neatly in his hair. He picks a light blue volleyball up from the ground and walks onto his side of the court. Iwaizumi’s already on his side, hands on his knees, ready for Oikawa to start. Using only one hand, Oikawa swiftly throws the ball high up in the air. “You know I’m totally gonna win this match, right?”

           Iwaizumi snorts and smirks at Oikawa through the holes of the net. “Not on your life, pretty boy.”

———————————————————————————————————-

           Soaring through the air over the net, the small blue volleyball heads toward Iwaizumi’s side of the court. With the quickness of a puma and the grace of a warrior, the spiky-haired male crouches down and receives the ball. The volleyball bounces back upwards, over Iwaizumi’s head and the boy looks up. He ends up timing the comedown of the ball perfectly, executing a three step approach. Calf muscles tensing, Iwaizumi swings his arms back and jumps up in the air. With a look of fierceness set in his face, eyes gleaming, his right arm whips forward and sends the ball flying straight down towards Oikawa’s side.

           Oikawa dives forward and manages to keep the ball up, but only enough to the point where it flys forward underneath the net. His sunglasses fall down crookedly onto the bridge of his nose. He groans. He almost got a mouthful of sand from this last one.

           Iwaizumi lets out a snicker, “What was that about beating me again?” He grins, watching Oikawa pick his lanky frame up off the sand.

           Dammit. Oikawa was sure his past spike wouldn’t turn into a chance ball, but somehow Iwaizumi managed to receive and turn it into a downward attack. He watches Iwaizumi take off his shirt through the lenses of his sunglasses. Iwaizumi grabs his water bottle and takes a long drink of water, his other hand resting on his hip.

           What a cocky bastard. Oikawa mentally convinces himself that he’s not taking this moment to run his eyes down the frame of Iwaizumi’s body. Nope. Definitely not taking in his wonderful, tan shoulders, and his stocky biceps, and of course that stupid lovely six pack- Wait what the hell? When did Iwa-chan get so buff??  Has he been doing extra strength training on the side or something?

           “Ready to get your ass whooped again, Shittykawa?” calls out Iwaizumi.

           Oikawa dusts the sand off his knees, sweat dripping down his bangs into his face. He takes a few ragged breaths. “You fuckin wish, biiiitttcchh.”

           Iwaizumi is about to make a retort when he notices Oikawa’s fast panting, his chest heaving in and out to try and steady his breathing back to normal. His hair is drenched, his shirt covered in sweat. Oikawa glances down worriedly at the wrap on his knee, reminding Iwaizumi of his past injury. He hastily looks at his watch.

           “On second thought, you look pretty tired, Tooru. It’s getting close to dinnertime anyways. Let’s call it a match and pack up, yeah?”

           Oikawa lets out an annoyed huff but then concedes.

———————————————————————————————————–

           They arrive back home, laughing about another funny joke Oikawa said when they were on the road. Iwaizumi and Oikawa tramp up the porch steps and through the screen door, both letting out relaxed sighs when the air conditioning hits them. They head towards the kitchen counter. Iwaizumi turns around and tosses his water bottle quickly to Oikawa, Oikawa wordlessly catching it in his hand.

           “Take this back up to the room, then we can go to the market and get some food. I’ll make dinner tonight if you want.”

           “Uh…sure Iwa-chan.” He replies, hurrying up the stairs in a daze.

           He sets both he and Iwaizumi’s water bottles on top of the dresser in their room. He takes a minute for himself, grabbing a towel and running it through his locks of hair to get the sweat out. He’s about to head out of the room when his eyes naturally find their gaze to the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. He walks closer to his reflection, placing the towel around his neck.

           Oikawa inspects his appearance in the mirror. Eyebrows knitted together, he turns his face to either side, looking at his cheekbones. His wide, almond shaped brown eyes. His thin lips, still nicely rounded out for a guy’s mouth. He had okay teeth, straight and not too big.

           “Iwa-chan’s still prettier though,” he thought.

           He shakes his head, trying to regain focus. Bounding down the stairs to meet Iwaizumi, he realizes he left his flips flops somewhere in the living room.

           “Almost done Oikawa? I’m starving, we should head out now.” Iwaizumi calls from the kitchen.

           “One second!” Oikawa answers. He’s slipping his toes through his sandals he found underneath the coffee table when something black and shiny catches his eye. “Auntie’s binder?”

           He reaches over and slowly slides the binder towards him. He opens to a random tab and somehow manages to get to the exact design that’s supposed to be what he’s wearing for the show tomorrow. Running his fingertips over the drawing of his figure, it finally dawns on him. His eyes widen and snap up from the book. “I’ve figured it out! I know what I need to do!”

           “Seriously Shittykawa let’s-,” Iwaizumi walks over and stops to see Oikawa staring at the designs, “go…”

           Oikawa quickly looks up at him from his sitting position on the floor. “Oh Iwa-chan, uh-“ Iwaizumi notices his eyes flit away from him for a couple of seconds. It looks like he’s trying to come up with something to say. “Right, about dinner…uh, could you go on without me? I uh, have a stomach ache. I’ll just stay here. Pick out whatever, okay?”

           His wide orbs stare up at him nervously and Iwaizumi knows he made that last part up. “Sure….if that’s what you want…” he narrows his eyes at Oikawa. He just knows the little shit’s up to something.

           “It is, now please goooo Iwa-chaaann. Out, out, out!” Oikawa pushes him happily out the door, tossing his truck keys to him.

           When Iwaizumi’s finally gone, Oikawa sighs heavily and looks up at the clock on the kitchen wall. It was already 5pm. He does some quick math in his head, trying to see if he has enough time to leave and come back before Iwaizumi gets back home. It would probably take Iwaizumi about 20 minutes or so to get to the market Hisako had told them about.

           “There’s no way I can make it all the way into town and back without the chance of Iwa-chan knowing I was gone. Hm. Unless….yes of course! I’ll use that shortcut!”

           He grabs the house keys, changes into his running shoes, and sprints out the door. Instead of running alongside the road all the way into town like he usually would, he hops a small fence and takes a shortcut through the neighbor’s small forest. He ends up running through a wide barley field, the sun beating down on him in waves and his body starting to get sweaty all over again. The leaves of the plants in the field scrape against his calves but Tooru pays it no mind. He makes his way down to a large road on the corner of town. Once he crosses one of the main roads, he’s able to slip behind the main buildings and into a suburb which he knows will lead him to where he needs to be.

           He passes the last house in the long, narrow neighborhood street and makes another turn, leading to a small set of offices. He runs through the bronze double doors and takes the elevator up to the fifth floor, leaning back against the wall of the elevator to finally catch his breath. The door opens to a bright white hallway, giant black and white photos of models striking dramatic poses in different outfits line the walls. He gets to the end of the hallway and fast-walks into his aunt’s studio space. He scans the area and spots Hisako standing near her desk with two colleagues, leaning down and pointing to a areas on a printed photo with her pen.

           “Oh, Oikawa dear, I’m quite surprised to see you here. Where’s your friend, Hajime?” she asks curiously.

           Oikawa takes a deep breath, wringing his hands in front of him. “Yeah, about Iwa-chan… Auntie, I need you to help me out with a huge favor.”

———————————————————————————————————-

A/N: wooww wonder what happens next?? Yeah I meant to post this way earlier today since I was hella excited about it and I had already typed out the outline for this part but it ended up being pretty long lol. Anyways, thanks for reading, if you like the story so far let me know by liking and commenting on it! I’d love to hear what you think! Also stay tuned for Part 3 where we finally get to the day of the fashion show! 

Also if anyone knows how to get a quick AO3 invite/account set up, let me know. I’d love to be able to post this to that site as well. Thanks so much for all your likes and support for my first ever haikyuu fic!

-Elo

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #elo speaks #my fics #iwaoi #iwaizumi #oikawa #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #short story #fanfic #fic #elotheweeb

[welcometothepenumbra]

SECOND CITADEL – THE SPORTIVE NYMPHS (PART ONE)

SOUND: RAIN. TRAIN ARRIVES, CREAKS TO A STOP. DOOR CLANKS OPEN.

CONDUCTOR: Ah, good evening, Traveler. And welcome… to The Penumbra.

SOUND: DOOR CLANKS SHUT.

Take your seat, please, take your seat.

MUSIC: STARTS.

The junction lies ahead, so if you’ll allow me just a moment.

SOUND: TRAIN WHISTLE.

We are now passing through the Lake of Tranquility.

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING.

Our next stop?

SOUND: TRAIN BRAKES.

The Sportive Nymphs.

SOUND: DOOR CLANKS OPEN, RAIN.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

MUSIC: STARTS.

SOUND: GENTLE WAVES.

SIR MARC: (FADING IN) Ha ha, I knew you had it in you, Tal! Look at that master tracker go, finding a shortcut around the Lake of Tranquility that not even the Queen knew about!

SOUND: HOOFBEATS.

TALFRYN: It’s really not that impressive.

MARC: Of course it is! Who else would’ve known about that pond hidden in the jungle?

TALFRYN: It’s not hard to find, if you know about the breeding patterns of mosquitoes—

MARC: Ew! Or, who knew that horses could swim? Could swim good, even?

SOUND: HORSE SNORT.

TALFRYN: Yeah, horses are real good swimmers, Marc.

MARC: (NERVOUS LAUGH) Oh, come on, what are you worried about? If our new friend at the docks came through for us, and you know she did—

TALFRYN: Sir Marc, you didn’t!

MARC: Then the boat those knucklehead knights are waiting for’s got more holes in it than your undershirt! And that means they’ll have to wait for another one, and blammo! Just like that, you and I are two weeks ahead of them, and that means we’re gonna bag the biggest monster of all time! Just the two of us!

SOUND: HORSE SNORT.

Three, I mean!

TALFRYN: Come on.

MARC: Your horse doesn’t count.

TALFRYN: You don’t know that this monster is that big a deal. Those are just rumors.

MARC: Just rumors, he says! Then let’s take a look at the cold, hard facts. Some cunning monster slithers into the Citadel, and burgles a beautiful maiden, and kills like a hundred people—

TALFRYN: We’d have noticed if one hundred people were dead. Probably.

MARC: Well, it must’ve done something bad, because who did the Queen send after it? The two top monster slayers in the Citadel. A new Investigator-General, the first in a century, and you remember what a pain she was. With a hunting team like that, this thing has to be, like, the biggest monster ever!

TALFRYN: Sir Caroline was a really good fighter…

MARC: I heard it’s a lizard-dragon-man with a thousand arms. And we’ve got earwitness testimony on that one, Tal, people heard Sir Damien say he saw it.

TALFRYN: Sir Marc… this seems like a really bad idea.

MARC: All the good ideas are bad ideas!

TALFRYN: This area is one of the most dangerous in the Citadel! Did you ask Rilla if she heard anything about this dragon-man, even?

MARC: Of course not. That’d be cheating. Also: she would’ve told me this was too dangerous. And also: I’m really bad at lying to her so I didn’t visit before I left.

TALFRYN: If we wanted to make a good impression with the Queen, why don’t we protect the Citadel while the Queen’s best knights are away? That’d be safer! And smarter!

MARC: (LAUGHING) Safer, yes. But smarter? Also yes. That plan is missing something that mine has, though. Lean in, come on, Tal, lean.

The girl the monster stole is supposed to be very pretty.

TALFRYN: …Oh.

MARC: Oh? Ohhhh? Do I sense some interest in there, Sir Talfryn? Maybe dreaming about that beautiful lady waiting to be rescued in that dragon-man’s castle?

TALFRYN: Ha-ha! Ha ha ha! Yeah, definitely!

MARC: It’d be a first, right? I mean, in the stories all this knighting-around is about saving damsels from towers, and rescuing them from human sacrifice, and untying them from horse-tracks. Never really got why that last one was such a thing, honestly, I mean why can’t the horse just go around—

TALFRYN: Marc, don’t you think we ought to focus on our mission?

MARC: I’m just saying that for all those stories I’ve never once saved a princess! Ever!

TALFRYN: B-but…

MARC: Don’t be boring, Tal! We never talk about girls. That’s something brothers are supposed to do, right? Come on, have some fun!

You know what kinda girls I like?

TALFRYN: N-no, and I was kind of hoping we could keep it that—

MARC: I like ladies that are like… like the wind.

Eh? Ehhh?

TALFRYN: How– but what does that mean?

MARC: Your turn. Come on, Tal, just feel it out, you’ll get there.

TALFRYN: M-m-m-m-m-m-me? I-I-I mean I… I– I guess I like women that are like the wind, too… then.

MARC: Like the wind? Come on, Tal, what does that mean? That doesn’t mean anything. Get specific.

TALFRYN: I, Marc I dunno if I should, I mean– but uhhh yeah, yeah you’ve– you’ve basically said everything, I think I’m all set.

MARC: Taaaalfryn.

TALFRYN: I… like… women… with nice…

Smells?

MARC: (LAUGHS) Oh. I, I mean yeah, me too, buddy, but that seems like a prerequisite more than something to get… excited about.

SIR DAMIEN: (DISTANT) Saint Damien above!

SIR ANGELO: (DISTANT) Damien! For Saint’s sake, stop thrashing!

SOUND: DISTANT SPLASHING.

TALFRYN: Sir Marc! Those two men are drowning!

MARC: See, Tal? Our moment as heroes has already started! I got back to my workshop while we were home and I’ve got a few new inventions up my sleeve.

Take this, water! Net bomb!

Yahhh!

SOUND: WHISTLING. POP, SPLASH.

DAMIEN: (DISTANT) Saints, what… what…?!

ANGELO: (DISTANT) This strength!

MARC: (OVER THE LINES ABOVE) Ha ha, it works! Now grab the rope and help me pull ‘em in!

SOUND: ROPE CREAKING.

MARC & TALFRYN: (GRUNTING)

MARC: (STRAINING) Come on, come on… pull… them… in!

SOUND: BIG SPLASH. HORSE NEIGHS. COUGHING & SPLUTTERING.

ANGELO: Blast this betentacled beast! I can’t get a grip on him!

DAMIEN: My knife…! Sir Angelo, hand me my knife!

MARC: Nope, changed my mind. Throw ‘em back, throw them back!

TALFRYN: Sir Marc!

ANGELO: There you are, my friend!

SOUND: ROPE CREAKING, CUTTING.

DAMIEN: (GRUNTS)

ANGELO: Huzzah! The beast is slain!

DAMIEN: (STRAINING) It… isn’t a beast at all. Just a… net!

MARC: Oh, come on! Now they broke my invention!

DAMIEN: Your invention?! I’ll have you know that accosting a Knight of the Crown is a serious offense, you cad, you brute, you—

Oh. So it’s… you.

ANGELO: Sir Damien? Do you know these curs?

MARC: Excuse you! Nobody calls us curs except our mother!

TALFRYN: And she always clarifies that she’s kidding afterwards! Which is very important to me!

DAMIEN: They’re of no concern to us, Sir Angelo. They’re only imitators. Pretenders to knighthood who tell tall tales and expect to be rewarded for their imagined efforts.

MARC: We’re what?

ANGELO: Imitators? Like… a fan club? (LAUGHS) Well, isn’t that a delight! I thank you, good sir. Keep this up and perhaps I shall name you my honorary squire for the day. It’s quite a charming invention you’ve cobbled together!

MARC: Fan club?! Squire?! Charming?!

DAMIEN: A typical exaggeration, from this blowhard. Quite an invention, Marc – do you really think you were the first man to think of the fishing net?

MARC: Hey, alright, so it’s not one of my greatest hits or anything, but that’s just ‘cause I’ve been busy. I’ve been working on a tool that’ll knock your socks off, you—

ANGELO: A sock remover! My, that sounds handy. I think I’ve rather taken a liking to these young fans of ours.

MARC: We’re older than both of you!

DAMIEN: A moment, please, Marc.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

As ever, dearest rival, your heart proves too open for its own good. Marc is as the simple tick: given an inch of open skin, he latches on and sucks from the greatness of others. Even… even…

ANGELO: Perhaps it is best you not say her name, Sir Damien; your armor is already soaked through.

DAMIEN: Quite.

(SIGHS) Do you understand, now?

ANGELO: I believe so. But the man’s culinary predilections aside, why need I fear him? My armor covers my skin entirely; he shan’t drink from my blood.

MARC: (CHUCKLES)

TALFRYN: (HISSING) Marc, that’s kind of rude.

DAMIEN: Then I’ll put it in terms more direct, my friend. This one on the horse is…

…the Salamander.

MARC: The what?

ANGELO: Begads! Him? The brigand Sir Absolon spoke of?!

DAMIEN: Precisely. Marc the Salamander, who took the tests of knighthood hundreds of times, who only ever passed when he cheated!

TALFRYN: Sir Marc didn’t cheat! He would never!

MARC: If you call me that one more time I’ll make you regret it, Damien.

DAMIEN: Our mentor, the great Sir Absolon the Quick, saw you cheat with his own eyes. You fed the Testing Beast to make it slower! More docile!

MARC: The only thing I fed the Beast was a chunk of my own shoulder after Absolon threw bacon grease on me!

DAMIEN: And whose word do you expect us to take? A lauded knight of the Citadel? Or you? (SNORTS) Do you know why they call him the Salamander, Sir Angelo?

ANGELO: Sir Damien, perhaps you shouldn’t—

MARC: That’s it!

DAMIEN: Because he is deceptive. As slippery as a salamander.

MARC: That’s… not it! But, I’m gonna hit you anyway!

SOUND: BLADE UNSHEATHING.

TALFRYN: Marc, wait!

SOUND: HORSE GALLOPS.

You can’t do this. Think about Rilla.

MARC: (GROWLS) Fine.

TALFRYN: Now shake on it.

MARC: Talfryn!

TALFRYN: I’m serious!

We have to get along with him, Sir Marc. He’s going to marry our best friend some day.

MARC: …Fine. (SIGHS)

SOUND: BLADE SHEATHING.

Alright, Damien. Let’s get this over with.

Damien?

ANGELO: Sir Damien, it is unbefitting of a knight to deny a call for peace, and they are friends of… we-well, you know who I…

…my, he’s gone rather pale, hasn’t he?

TALFRYN: And he’s shaking a lot.

DAMIEN: Ri… Ri… Ri… R-R-Ril… R-R-Ril… (WAILING) Rillaaaaaaaa!

ANGELO: For Saint’s sake, man! Pull yourself together!

DAMIEN: My heart, my heart, the very furnace of my life, the fire of my being, my Rilla, it’s been weeks, weeks!

MARC: Uhh… what?

TALFRYN: Did something happen to Rilla?

ANGELO: Of course! You haven’t heard? A cunning four-armed lizard has struck the Citadel and stolen Rilla from her bed. Sir Damien and I are in hot pursuit of the beast, but it must have sabotaged our boat! The scoundrel!

TALFRYN: Four-armed lizard…

MARC: Snuck into the Citadel…

TALFRYN: The best monster slayers in hot pursuit…

MARC: And so the beautiful maiden is… Rilla. (GAGGING)

TALFRYN: Sir Marc!

ANGELO: Saints above! Now some pox of the heart has wracked your brother, too!

MARC: Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew! (SPITS)

DAMIEN: (WAILING)

TALFRYN: But… now we can save Rilla, right?

MARC: I can’t believe the girl I was hoping to kiss was… Rilla! Why aren’t you more upset about this?!

TALFRYN: Uhh… am I supposed to be?

MARC: Oh, Tal, she’s basically our sister!

TALFRYN: I… um… I… I… uhm…

DAMIEN: Your sister? Rilla has no salamander’s blood, you fraud!

MARC: Maybe not, but she’s still our family. That’s why Tal and I are going to save her.

DAMIEN: You will do no such thing! I will save Rilla!

MARC: You wish!

TALFRYN: Guys… does it really matter who—

DAMIEN: She is my fiancée! My love!

MARC: Yeah, well, she’s our Rilla!

ANGELO: Friends, please! The boy has a point!

TALFRYN: Boy…?

ANGELO: Perhaps we shall each save half of her, hmm?

DAMIEN: And give anything to him? I think not!

MARC: Not like you’ll have a choice! We’ll get there way before you!

DAMIEN: You two? Best the Citadel’s greatest knights at… anything? Never.

MARC: Oh yeah? Prove it!

DAMIEN: Name the place and time.

MARC: How ‘bout right here, right now?

VOICE 1: (DISTANT SCREAM)

TALFRYN: What was that?!

MARC & DAMIEN: (IN UNISON) Our challenge.

DAMIEN: Whoever saves this woman first is the better knight.

MARC: Tal, give him your horse. I don’t want to hear him whine about cheating when he loses.

TALFRYN: Guys, I don’t feel good about this… that person sounds like she really needs our help.

DAMIEN: Then it sounds like you’d better get off that horse now, doesn’t it?

TALFRYN: (MOANS)

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS, BUCKLES CLINKING.

MARC: On three.

TALFRYN: Guys, it sounds like she really needs—

DAMIEN: One…

MARC: Two…

MARC & DAMIEN: Three!

SOUND: GALLOPING.

ANGELO: Oh, but I can never resist some friendly competition! Come along, good Talfryn!

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

Hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup… (FADING OUT)

TALFRYN: Ohh, I hope she’s okay…

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: GALLOPING.

VOICE 1: (SCREAMS)

DAMIEN: (MUFFLED, DISTANT) You cut me off!

MARC: (MUFFLED, DISTANT) That’s just called being slow, sore loser!

VOICE 1: (SCREAMS)

SOUND: LEAVES RUSTLING.

MARC & DAMIEN: Ha!

DAMIEN: Fear not, dear maiden!

MARC: I’ll save you!

VOICE 1: Ahh!

MARC: …from… nothing.

Do you see a monster?

DAMIEN: None at all. She appears to be screaming in this clearing… alone?

(CLEARS THROAT) Um… milady? Is there any… danger here that we can assist you with?

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING.

MARC: We’re not just… like, interrupting your private time? Hopefully?

SOUND: LEAVES RUSTLING.

ANGELO: (DISTANT, APPROACHING) Hup hup hup hup– Ha ha! Here at last!

TALFRYN: (PANTING & COUGHING) Is everything… okay?

VOICE 1: They’re here! They’re all here!

DAMIEN: Please, milady – I implore you to settle your spirits and speak. Who are the they you speak of?

VOICE 1: You, of course!

Everybody, look! The competitors are here!

TALFRYN: Uh-oh.

SOUND: CHEERING, APPLAUSE.

DAMIEN: Saints above! The trees are filled with women!

TALFRYN: Hey, guys? Has anybody else noticed this clearing is kind of… weird? All the markings in the grass, the lines and numbers…

ANGELO: It appears to be… a field for some sort of competition.

VOICE 1: (GIGGLES) Of course it is, sillies. Nymphs love sport.

NYMPH CROWD: (CHANTING) Sport! Sport! Sport! Sport! Sport! Sport!

MUSIC: STARTS.

SOUND: CHEERING, APPLAUSE.

VOICE 2 (FROM MICROPHONE): Llllllllladies and more ladies! Nymphs from the palm to the cacao, who tango in the mangroves, and salsa in the balsas, welcome… to… SPORT!

NYMPH CROWD: (SCREAMING)

VOICE 2 (FROM MICROPHONE): I’m Sunny Budkin, here with my pal Pitley—

MUSIC: FADES OUT.

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Thaaat’s right, Sunny, Game 28,955 is already here and boy is it a good day for sport, let me tell ya, nice breeze and the sky’s clear as Game Forty-One with the Southern Frosts twins, what a game, what a game.

VOICE 2 [SUNNY] (FROM MICROPHONE): And we’ll be your announcers on this beautiful day. And why’s today so beautiful, Pit?

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): ‘Cause it’s always beautiful when we get to see some sport!

NYMPH CROWD: (CHANTING) Sport! Sport! Sport! Sport!

TALFRYN: M-M-M… Marc…

MARC: I know, buddy. This looks like a trap.

DAMIEN: Sir Angelo… my bow will watch the trees while you protect the civilians.

ANGELO: It is done.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Who’s the best of the best? Who will be the hero to end all heroes? Who will free the beautiful damsel from her chains? We’ll find out today… in sport!

NYMPH CROWD: (CHEERS)

ANGELO: Sir Damien? Shall we retreat?

DAMIEN: On second thought… that damsel may need our help.

MARC: Don’t want to let a lady down. And, we never settled our bet.

TALFRYN: (MOANS)

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Pitley, do you mind telling our challengers what they can expect?

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): You see, what we have here is your classic sport setup – forty-five thousand years old, Sunny, that’s nearly as old as sport itself.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Year fifty thousand is comin’ in hot, Pit!

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): You better believe it! But anyway, so you got two teams of two, two qualifying rounds before the finals. The winners of the two qualifiers’ll go on to the final challenge and whoever proves they’ve got it will release the damsel.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): So that’s one member of each team for each qualifier. But Pit, hang on: what if the same team wins both qualifiers?

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Even with two athletes working side by side, the finals don’t come free, Sunny. Hell, that reminds me of the old Of-Reilly-Of-Malley family game, that was Game… (FADES INTO BACKGROUND)

MARC: (QUIETLY) You hear that, Tal? Looks like we’re gonna save a damsel after all!

TALFRYN: (QUIETLY) But Marc… what happens to the losing team?

MARC: (QUIETLY) I don’t know. We’re not gonna lose, so it doesn’t really matter, does it?

TALFRYN: (QUIETLY) I’m just gonna ask—

MARC: (QUIETLY) No. We can’t show ‘em any weakness. They’re too full of themselves already.

(CALLING) We’re ready to grind these two into the ground, nymphs!

DAMIEN: And we accept their challenge, fair maidens of the wood!

NYMPH CROWD: (CHEERS)

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Alright, it sounds like our athletes are champing at the bit down there, so what do you say we get this started, huh?

Time to pick the qualifying rounds! Bring out the helmet!

NYMPH CROWD: (CHEERS)

ANGELO: Ha ha! Well, isn’t this exciting!

TALFRYN: Did anybody else notice that helmet they’re pulling those slips of paper out of has bloodstains on it?

DAMIEN: Why do you ask, false knight? Are you thinking about quitting?

MARC: (HISSING) Talfryn!

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): What’ve we got there, Pitley?

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): First round: swordplay!

NYMPH CROWD: (POLITE CLAPPING)

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Nope, sorry, I read that wrong. (CLEARS THROAT) First round: wordplay!

NYMPH CROWD: (CHEERING)

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): A crowd favorite! Let’s hope I get as lucky. Round two is…

Single combat!

NYMPH CROWD: (LOUD CHEERING)

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Now choose your teams, athletes, and pick which of you will take on each challenge. You have ten minutes to strategize… and then let the games begin!

NYMPH CROWD: (CHEERING)

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING.

ANGELO: (FADING IN) Hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup—

DAMIEN: Sir Angelo! Where have you been?

ANGELO: My apologies. These fairest of nymphs asked to know our names and titles, and I could not leave them in distress.

DAMIEN: Please remember, my friend: beautiful though they may be, these nymphs are monsters.

ANGELO: I cannot believe that creatures with a love for something as wholesome as sport can be purely evil, Sir Damien. Perhaps they are monsters with some good in them, as it was with the loyal crocodile-hound?

DAMIEN: Perhaps… but is it possible that monsters with such souls might be…

Focus, Sir Angelo! We must let their captive languish no longer. The preliminary rounds were Saint-sent; we shall play to our strengths and save her quickly. You will take single combat.

ANGELO: But Sir Damien—

DAMIEN: Marc is known for his quick tongue – inevitably, he will take wordplay. I will defeat him in the first round, and then you and I will end this together.

ANGELO: But… taking our specialties so quickly? That doesn’t seem in competitive spirit. And the besaddled one did invent that device—

DAMIEN: He did not invent the net!

My kind, kind friend. I agree that it is a shame that we cannot trust these men. They would be valuable allies, as Sir Caroline was – for moving through the world as she has, in a life quite different from ours, has clearly gifted her with ways of thinking that you and I would never come to.

ANGELO: Very true, very true.

DAMIEN: And so I am certain that given Marc’s… situation, he too must have a perspective of great value in our mission. But the simple fact is that he cannot be trusted. Sir Absolon was most clear about that. And so we must defeat him, quickly, and continue on our own.

ANGELO: Hmmmm. Your theories on perspective are most interesting, Sir Damien.

DAMIEN: I hope we may prove them safely soon. Now—

ANGELO: Why, yes! The Queen does not keep many knights with tall brothers, does she? An oversight! I shall speak with her directly upon our return.

DAMIEN: Angelo… that isn’t quite what I—

ANGELO: Soft-bodied siblings, then? Horses with names?

DAMIEN: Your horse has a name, my friend.

ANGELO: (FADING OUT) Saints above, so he does! The Queen’s foresight never ceases to astound!

MARC: (FADING IN) You’re really bringing me down, here.

TALFRYN: I’m just saying – have you ever heard of this sport before? Or these nymphs?

MARC: ‘Course I haven’t. You heard them: this game’s all about tradition, and they said the tradition was to play it once every thousand years! Everyone who played it before is dead by now.

TALFRYN: But… Marc, that doesn’t make—

MARC: Does it matter, anyway? Think about the woman they’ve got locked up. Someone’s got to save her!

TALFRYN: And there’s something really weird about the way they keep saying damsel all the time!

MARC: Sure, it’s kind of an old word, Tal, but you don’t have to make fun of their dialect—

TALFRYN: I’m serious!

MARC: Yeah, I know. But I have a sure-fire strategy to win this thing, Tal, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.

TALFRYN: …Really?

MARC: Of course. Just let me take single combat. I’ve got a plan.

TALFRYN: Single combat?! You want to fistfight Sir Angelo?!

MARC: No way is it gonna be Angelo. Listen: Damien’s so full of himself he’s probably sending Angelo out to bomb the first round so I’ll pass on to the finals and he can fight me there. So we’re gonna play smarter! Surprise ‘em!

TALFRYN: Marc—

MARC: You’ll beat Angelo at wordplay no problem, because you’ve got plural brain cells, I’ll take out Damien, and you and I’ll go sweep that pretty maiden off her feet in the finals. What do you say?

TALFRYN: But… it’s single combat, Sir Marc.

MUSIC: STARTS.

What if they don’t let you bring Dampierre?

MARC: Oh, that’s the plan, Tal. Just you wait.

SOUND: HORSE SNORT.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Aaaaand we’re back! Time to get started with wordplay!

Mind telling us how it works, Pitley?

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Wordplay’s an old favorite; dates all the way back to the days of asking riddles in trees and throwing acorns when they get ‘em wrong. Two champions are gonna prove their bravery by doing the scariest thing there is: reciting original poetry to a live audience of two thousand pretty girls.

NYMPH CROWD: (CHEERS)

TALFRYN: Poetry…?! Marc, I don’t know anything about poetry!

MARC: Uh-oh.

TALFRYN: I was so worried about your challenge that I didn’t even think about mine!

MUSIC: ENDS.

What are we gonna do, Marc?

MARC: It’s just Angelo, buddy. Just calm down, alright? That big moron’s going to insist he goes first anyway.

DAMIEN: With your permission, Mistresses Budkin and Pitley, I will volunteer to deliver the first poem.

MARC: There, see? Just take a deep…

That was the wrong moron, wasn’t it?

TALFRYN: Maaaaaaaaaarc!!

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Our first team comes complete with a recommendation by Queen Mira herself! Best monster slayers, best rivals, and best friends, they are… Sir Angelo the Strong and Sir Damien the Pious!

NYMPH CROWD: (CHEERS)

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

DAMIEN: Yes, thank you, thank you, you’re too kind…

My esteemed forest-spirits. It is my honor to entertain you this day. I present to you a tale of competition and excitement, a song of strife on the field of battle, and love on the sidelines, a four-hour epic that will make your hearts ache and your spirits soar—

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): The athletes should probably be reminded that their poems can’t take more than two minutes to recite.

DAMIEN: A two-minute ballad that will change your very conception of drama. I give you… The Battle at World’s End.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

So to the West, the lifeless West, the troubadour did trot; Through boughs of burning red and gold, ‘twas solitude she sought. When, clash! the iron thundered, lo, “Have at thee!” the reply; and ‘neath the leaves, the forest’s eaves, she heard their battle-cry. (FADES INTO BACKGROUND)

TALFRYN: Marc, my mind’s a blank! I don’t know how to say poetry! I-I-I-I-I barely even know how to say words, I’m so—

MARC: Stay with me, Tal. You can do this. Poetry is just a bunch of pretty words about nature, right? You know everything about nature! Just say some of that!

TALFRYN: A-a-anything?

MARC: Anything. Come on, try it out.

TALFRYN: Okay.

(SIGHS) You can get a quick survey of the wild fruits that grow in the area if you look for bear droppings, because the unripe berries don’t get digested and then—

MARC: Yeah, o-o-okay, no, stop, stop, stop!

TALFRYN: I don’t think that was a poem, Marc.

MARC: Of course it was. It was just… too experimental for this crowd.

DAMIEN: (FADING IN) And so they fell straight down to Hell, and battled ‘til the end.

Thank you.

NYMPH CROWD: (GOES WILD)

SOUND: BUZZING.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Pistils and stamens, now that was a poem!

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Don’t usually see a crowd this excited during wordplay, Sunny. I hope the other boys got brains to match their looks, because the competition today is fierce!

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Well, what do you say we find out? Our next team hails all the way from the Second Citadel, and according to my inside source, they’re on a family vacation! Isn’t that sweet?

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Sure is, Sunny, sure is.

TALFRYN: Marc…!

MARC: Alright, just… try this, then. I want you to say “Roses are red, violets are blue,” and then just follow it up with whatever’s in your heart.

TALFRYN: Anything?

MARC: Just so long as it’s not about droppings, yeah, now go!

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): So let’s meet them, shall we? Say hello to our brothers-in-arms – Marc the Salamander—

MARC: Hey!

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): —and Talfryn the other one!

TALFRYN: Hey!

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): And it looks like Talfryn’s up first. Give him a hand, everybody; he’s sure got one tough act to follow!

NYMPH CROWD: (APPLAUSE, CHEERING)

ANGELO: Sir Damien! You assured me that Marc would take wordplay!

DAMIEN: They’re up to something, Sir Angelo – watch them carefully.

MARC: (CALLING) Don’t let ‘em get in your head, Tal! Just remember what I told you and poem your big heart out!

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

TALFRYN: O-okay…

(CLEARS THROAT) Hello, everybody. My name is Talfryn. And this is my poem.

Roses are red! Violets are blue!

No they’re not.

NYMPH CROWD: (AFTER A PAUSE, LOW MUTTERING)

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): I… think that might be it, Pitley.

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Give the kid a second. Lot of great plays to make here. Wordplay’s full of surprises, full of surprises.

MARC: Tal, what are you doing?

TALFRYN: It’s not true, Marc! Violets aren’t blue! They come in pretty much every other color except blue, they can be white and yellow and pink and they’re even called violets, so why does everyone say they’re blue?

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): (CHUCKLES) …Pitley?

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Wordplay’s full of surprises, Sunny.

This ain’t one of ‘em.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): There you have it, ladies! Sir Damien the Pious is moving on to the finals!

NYMPH CROWD: (CHEERING)

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Now don’t go anywhere, because the next round is just about to begin! Athletes, would you please follow our lovely attendants to the single combat arena!

TALFRYN: Marc… I’m sorry!

MARC: Don’t be. It’s my fault for only thinking about my round.

TALFRYN: Right. But that means…

You’re going to fight Sir Angelo?!

MARC: Yep. Not exactly ideal, but I’ll make it work. And besides—

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

VOICE 3: Hey boys. I’m heading over to single combat, wanna join?

MARC: Every cloud’s got a silver lining, y’know what I’m saying?

On our way, beautiful!

TALFRYN: No. I don’t.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): While we’re waiting for Sir Angelo and Marc to suit down, why don’t you tell us a little about single combat, Pitley?

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Love to, Sunny, love to. Single combat is basically your ideal showdown, stripped down to nothing but your underwear and a stick for hitting the other guy with. The first athlete to knock the other outta the circle takes it. Each one gets to bring in one non-magical article of clothing to keep ‘em decent, but besides that it’s nothing but two men and a few concussions.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Sounds exciting, Pit.

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): It’s lost its edge if you ask me. In the old days we didn’t even give them the underwear. Just slathered ‘em in honey, sat back, and enjoyed the show.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Sounds like a sexy time, Pit.

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): You bet, Sunny, you bet. But if you want more sport, you have to make a few compromises. I miss those old games sometimes. Thousand years of anticipation and—

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Aaaaaaand it looks like Marc and Sir Angelo are ready for single combat! Approach the ring, champions, and let the games begin!

VOICE 3: Go get him, Mister Knight.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

ANGELO: Sir Damien, this doesn’t feel as fair as I’d hoped.

DAMIEN: I’m certain that Marc planned it that way. We gave him the honorable option and he did not take it. Remember that.

ANGELO: Oh, I don’t mind beating the Salamander around a little. He seems perfectly competent. I mean only… I wouldn’t want to harm an innocent horse.

DAMIEN: The steed of a demon rides also in the devil’s army, my compassionate rival – and that horse rides for him. Do you follow?

ANGELO: (AFTER A PAUSE) Then the horse… is a demon.

DAMIEN: Metaphorically, yes, but—

ANGELO: Why thank you, Sir Damien. You are as wise as ever. Haaaaaaaahhhh!

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

Hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup! Sir Angelo is prepared for single combat! Down, you beast of hell, you infernal steed, you…! You…

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS SLOW, STOP.

Well, hello, Marc. Where is your demon horse?

MARC: Oh, Dampierre’s over there.

SOUND: HORSE NEIGHS.

TALFRYN: (DISTANT) Go, Marc!

ANGELO: But, you…

MARC: I realized it probably wasn’t fair for you to fight both of us. It’s single combat, right?

ANGELO: That is very honorable of you.

May I ask also where your underwear has gone?

MARC: Ah, don’t need it. I’ve got these.

SOUND: TWO METAL CLANKS.

ANGELO: Yes, I can see that. Your greaves are impressive, but—

MARC: They’re just metal socks, actually. You like? Made ‘em myself.

ANGELO: …Can we expect your underwear to join us at any point?

MARC: See, I’d love to, but I can’t. The one pair I’ve got on me’s enchanted – long story, makes it so I don’t get sores from sitting on Dampierre all day, got ‘em off a troll with a skin condition. These passed inspection, though. You wanna look ‘em over?

ANGELO: No! No, no, I think… if the nymphs are satisfied, I shall be too!

MARC: Yeah, well, it is what it is. You think I like sitting in the dirt in front of a crowd of beautiful women naked as the day I was born?

ANGELO: My experience says that you should not, and yet your eyes seem to imply you do. Greatly.

MARC: Yeah, well, you got me.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Are our competitors ready for single combat?

MARC: (CALLING) I’m ready! (NORMAL VOLUME) Need a minute?

ANGELO: Your style is unique, Marc. I look forward to learning from this battle. (CALLING) Sir Angelo the Strong is ready for combat!

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Alright, then! Three… two… one… Single combat!

NYMPH CROWD: (CHEERING)

SOUND: GRUNTS, METAL CLANKING & RUSTLING.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): It looks like we don’t have to wait long for surprises in this round. Marc has put down his weapon!

ANGELO: I’ve never seen such a stance. You must be a master of the blade.

MARC: Master of something, alright…

Got ‘em!

SOUND: JINGLING KEYS.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Looks like he’s pulled a ring of keys out of his socks! Incredible! Is that even legal, Pit?

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): The whole spirit of single combat’s in your prep and your mental game, Sunny. Honestly, I can’t think of a move more legal than pulling keys out your hose. I don’t think I need to remind you about Theodore—

DAMIEN: (CALLING, OVER THE BELOW) Sir Angelo! Don’t give him a chance to cheat you! Finish this!

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): (OVER THE ABOVE) —of Scumm back in Game Nine-thousand-and-thirteen, who used his codpiece as a slingshot—

ANGELO: (OVER THE BELOW) Prepare yourself, Marc!

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): (OVER THE ABOVE) —and his own teeth as ammunition. Now that was sport!

SOUND: CLINKING.

MARC: (OVER THE BELOW) Just gotta flip this clasp, move that pin, turn the key, and then… ha!

ANGELO: (BATTLE CRY, OVER THE ABOVE) Hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup…

SOUND: PNEUMATIC HISS, METAL CLINK.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): It looks like Marc’s completed whatever process he has hidden in his stockings, but will it be enough? Look at those muscles on Sir Angelo!

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Mmmmmm-hmmmmm, I’m lookin’, Sunny.

ANGELO: That’s, um… hm. A powerful throw! (GRUNTS)

MARC: Lift with your legs, Angie, you’re gonna throw your back out.

ANGELO: Of course! My thanks! (GRUNTS, COUGHS) Saints, man! I was told you were the Salamander, not the elephant!

MARC: I’ll tell you my secret if you do me a favor?

ANGELO: But of course.

MARC: Throw the match?

ANGELO: That I cannot do.

MARC: Then I’ll settle for you never calling me the Salamander again, ‘cause I kind of hate it.

ANGELO: It is already done. My sincerest apologies.

MARC: Hey, bygones. It’s the metal socks. When I turn this key in the lock at the thigh, here, they shoot two big tentpole-spikes into the ground. You’d have to lift the whole arena if you want to get me out of here.

ANGELO: Saints, how cunning! Devices that can outperform even my strength – impressive!

DAMIEN: (DISTANT, YELLING) It is not impressive! They’re just tentpoles! He did not invent the tentpole!

MARC: I’ve been busy, alright? The big one’s still comin’!

DAMIEN: (DISTANT, YELLING) I told you he was a cheat! Fair maidens, I implore you to rule justly and disqualify this deceiver!

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Sir Damien is crying foul! Pit, what do you think?

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Marc checked with the referees ahead of time, and the socks are legal, nothing magical about them. Unless the crowd wants him to stop, I don’t see why—

NYMPH CROWD: (CHEERS)

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Then let Single Combat continue!

ANGELO: An excellent use of the rules, Marc. Sir Damien was right about you: your mind can certainly craft strategy that I would never dream of.

But perhaps, that road goes both ways, hmm?

MARC: Did you mean to say that out loud?

ANGELO: Hmm, yes! May I see those keys of yours? I was hoping that by inspecting them I might learn more. About keys.

MARC: Yeah, no. Dampierre, catch!

SOUND: KEYS JINGLING. DISTANT WHINNY. GALLOPING.

DAMIEN: (DISTANT) Horse! Get back here!

NYMPH CROWD: (GOES NUTS)

SOUND: BUZZING.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Incredible!

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): A match that ragezzzz inside and outside of the ring! These boys are redefining sport!

MARC: So, I’m ready.

Let’s do this.

ANGELO: Indeed.

SOUND: WOODEN CLANKS, GRUNTING.

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Look at the technique from Marc! He’s bolted to the floor and he’s still keeping Sir Angelo at bay!

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): But don’t count Sir Angelo out yet, Pit. Marc’s attacks don’t move him an inch. And look at the power behind those blows! Marc can parry until the aphids come home, but if Angelo tires him out, then just one hit from that club will do damage no socks are going to fix.

ANGELO: (WINDED) It seems you are no stranger to the blade, my friend.

MARC: We’ve met a few times, yeah. (PANTING) You’re not so bad yourself.

ANGELO: Your compliment holds great weight, coming from so skilled a competitor. Yet I’m afraid our battle must end here. I cannot leave Sir Damien waiting.

MARC: He’s not waiting. He sounds like he’s having a great time.

SOUND: GALLOPING.

DAMIEN: (DISTANT, PANTING) Come back, you cloven coward, you four-legged fiend! Come back!

SOUND: WHINNY.

ANGELO: Even so, the damsel and Rilla await. I am sorry, Marc.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Unbelievable! Sir Angelo’s dropped his weapon, and he’s… retreating!

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Not retreating, Sunny. It’s that mind game, I tell you. Which is great for sport and too bad for me.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): You do like your eye candy, Pitley.

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): What can I say, I’m a nymph with simple tastes. Give me a man with muscles and… literally nothing else, Sunny, that’s all I’m after.

TALFRYN: (CALLING) Sir Marc! I thought you said the plan was to knock Sir Angelo off his feet!

MARC: Yeah, well, that one didn’t super work. But don’t worry, Tal: your big brother always comes up with a plan.

TALFRYN: What is it?

MARC: Not sure yet. Let’s find out together.

TALFRYN: Marc!!!

ANGELO: Use your weapon all you like, Marc. Once Sir Angelo the Strong has started his charge, nothing can stop him. Prepare to leave this ring… and those stockings.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Sir Angelo’s entered a runner’s stance. It– it looks like… It looks like…

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): He’s gonna tackle that handsome fella straight out of the only clothing he’s got! No need to dance around it, we’re all nymphs here.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Hold me, Pit.

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): You bet, Sunny.

TALFRYN: Sir Marc!!

ANGELO: (EXTENDED BATTLE CRY)

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

MARC: Three… two… one…! (GRUNTS)

ANGELO: (EXTENDED BATTLE CRY FADES OUT)

NYMPH CROWD: (GASPS)

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): …Unbelievable.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): You saw it, folks. Nothing can stop Sir Angelo when he’s at full charge. Marc the Salamander is the winner of Single Combat!

NYMPH CROWD: (CHEERING)

TALFRYN: Marc! You did it!

MARC: Takes years of practice to lie down that quickly, Tal. Take notes; your brother’s a professional.

SOUND: DISTANT WHINNY.

Dampierre! Over here!

SOUND: GALLOPING.

DAMIEN: (PANTING) You… sinister stallion… you pernicious pony… you, you, you…

SOUND: THWUMP. HORSE SNORT. KEYS JINGLING.

MARC: Thank you.

SOUND: CLINKING.

Aaaaand I’ll be taking those.

SOUND: FABRIC RUSTLING.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): What a show, ladies, what a show! In the finals we have Marc the Salamander and Sir Damien the Pious, competing to see who can release our damsel from her chains! What do you say, nymphs? Are we ready for the main event?

NYMPH CROWD: (CHEERS)

DAMIEN: (PANTING) You shameless…! I knew you were a cheater!

MARC: Help me up, Dampierre, don’t be lazy.

SOUND: HORSE SNORT. BUCKLES CLINKING.

DAMIEN: So? Do you have nothing to say for yourself?

MARC: Do you hear that noise, Tal? That annoying whine, like a mosquito or maybe a sore loser that can’t take a hint?

DAMIEN: Sore loser!

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): While we prepare for the finals, can we please ask Sir Angelo and Talfryn to report to the announcers’ podium?

TALFRYN: Sir Marc… something weird is going on here.

DAMIEN: It was single combat, villain! Have you no honor?

MARC: Weird is right, Tal. That buzzing just won’t stop!

TALFRYN: No, I mean… the way they keep saying damsel doesn’t sound right. And then they made that weird noise—

DAMIEN: I am speaking to you, Salamander!

MARC: Hold on just a second, Tal. I think Damien might be trying to say something.

You wanna repeat that, pal?

DAMIEN: You have earned the name more than once today. Sir Angelo was the better warrior and you knew it, so you brought in something he couldn’t beat. That is not a duel!

TALFRYN: Marc…

MARC: The event was not called “duel.” It was called “single combat,” and the rules were—

DAMIEN: Vague! Which you used to your vile advantage!

MARC: I strategized!

TALFRYN: But Marc…!

VOICE 3: Come with me, hon.

TALFRYN: Oof!

MARC: Just because you two were over there yukking it up about how Angelo was going to beat down the helpless “belly-dragging salamander” when you should have been talking strategy—

DAMIEN: How dare you accuse me of such vile intent! A knight wouldn’t… I wouldn’t! You earned that moniker with your wickedness, with your lies, with your—

ANGELO: (IN BACKGROUND) Hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup!

MARC: That doesn’t mean you get to whine ‘cause I found an edge and took it! You’re an idiot if you don’t prepare before a fight, I outsmarted you, deal with it!

ANGELO: (IN BACKGROUND) Sir Damien, did you see that battle! One of the best—

DAMIEN: Belly-dragging? That is not even what salamander means!

MARC: Don’t be dense—

DAMIEN: I can’t believe you would suggest that I would call you something so vile!

MARC: And another thing! If you cared so much about it being a fair fight you never would’ve let me go in there without my horse, you—

MUSIC: STARTS.

Huh?

DAMIEN: Where are Sir Angelo and your brother?

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Welcome back, ladies! The finals might not be here just yet, but we have something special for you right up on the announcers’ podium. Anything you want to say to the crowd, boys?

TALFRYN (FROM MICROPHONE): Marc! Help!

ANGELO (FROM MICROPHONE): The Budkin woman has arms like steel rods, Talfryn! I can’t move an inch!

MARC: Talfryn!

DAMIEN: Angelo!

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Y’know, it seems like most of them just say “help,” Sunny. Why is that?

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): There’s no understanding men or humans, Pit; you’re just going to tire yourself out taking on both.

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): (LAUGHS) Ain’t that the truth! Say, I got a question for our boys here.

ANGELO (FROM MICROPHONE): (STRUGGLING) Ha ha, this is it! I can feel her strength flagging beneath the mighty effort of Sir—

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): (GRUNTS)

ANGELO (FROM MICROPHONE): (WINDED, PAINED) Nevermind.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Just had to tighten my headlock. Go ahead, Pitley!

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): You both played a great game out there, boys, some of the best sport we’ve seen yet. How’s it feel to know that within half an hour, one of you’s going to be dead?

MARC & DAMIEN: What?!

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): I don’t know about Talfryn, Pitley, but it sounds like Sir Angelo here’s overcome with emotion! He’s speechless!

TALFRYN (FROM MICROPHONE): That’s because you’re squeezing his windpipe!

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Oh, is that what that’s for?

ANGELO (FROM MICROPHONE): (DEEP BREATH, COUGHING)

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Learn something new every day, Sunny. Speaking of which—

VOICE 3: (OVER THE BELOW) The finals are in the hedged arena, champions. Don’t want to leave the crowd waiting.

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): (IN BACKGROUND) —let’s talk strategy for a second: do you think you boys would’ve done anything differently if you knew that your lives were riding on this game?

DAMIEN: Well… I… suppose…

Saints forgive me.

TALFRYN (FROM MICROPHONE): Maaaaaarc!

MARC: Don’t worry, Tal. I’ll get you. No matter what it takes.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): This is it, ladies and germinators! Does Marc the Salamander have sharp enough wits to cut through the competition and save his brother? Or will Sir Damien the Pious take his prize with only his bow and divine favor on his side?

Who will save the damsel? Who will win the tournament? Who is the better knight, and the better man? Find out… in the final round of SPORT!

NYMPH CROWD: (CHEERING)

MUSIC: ENDS.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING, MUSIC.

CONDUCTOR: If you’ve enjoyed this tale, please consider donating to The Penumbra on Patreon. Our artists work tirelessly to bring you these stories, and if you have the means, we hope you will support our efforts. Every dollar helps. You can find that page at patreon.com/thepenumbrapodcast. If you support us on Patreon at the $10 level or higher, you’ll receive access to commentary tracks like this one, from actors Jason Mellin, Matthew Zahnzinger, and M Sutherland, and co-creator Kevin Vibert:

SOUND: TRAIN STOPS, DOOR SLIDES OPEN, RAIN.

M: …Two or three times reading that script.

JASON: Yes. Uh… (CHUCKLES) I dunno why Caves of Discord is the only one using real name—

M: “You should smile more!” (GAGGING)

JASON: Ohh, god, yeah.

Um, since I’m the host, uh, could we go– uh, and we are recording this before hearing the first Second Citadel episode of the, uh, half season; um, could we go around and say what aspects of Lord Arum we like the most? Just like, what do you think is the most, uh, interesting or attractive about Lord Arum…

SOUND: DOOR SLIDES SHUT.

CONDUCTOR: You can also support The Penumbra by liking us on Facebook, following us on Twitter @thepenumbrapod, following us on Tumblr @thepenumbrapodcast, telling your friends about us, telling your friends to tell their friends about us, and especially by rating and reviewing our podcast on iTunes. Every rating, comment, and kind word spreads our stories further and inspires us to keep creating more and better tales to come.

We would like to give special thanks to all who support us on Patreon, but especially to Camille Blanton, Garrett A Miller, Jay Iannuzzelli, Karin Z-H, Canteloupe, Fiona Parker, Ota Arcana, Regan, Ko, Kim Zeugin, Atha Lang, Vron, Charlie Spiegel, Minchowski, and Jaimie Gunter for their incredibly generous contributions per episode. Thank you.

Did you know that The Penumbra has merchandise for sale? It’s true! The Penumbra has partnered with DFTBA to bring you the posters, shirts, and pins your heart desires. Just go to dftba.com and search for The Penumbra Podcast.

This tale, The Sportive Nymphs, was told by the following people: Stefano Perti as Sir Marc, Jason Mellin as Talfryn, Matthew Zahnzinger as Sir Damien, M Sutherland as Sir Angelo, Kristie Norris as Sunny Budkin, and Allison Choat as Pitley.

The Penumbra is created and produced by Sophie Kaner and Kevin Vibert. If you wish to know more about our ever-expanding, infinitely-creative team of artists, musicians, editors, designers, and managers, you can read about them in the show notes of this episode.

I’m afraid this is the end of the line for today, dear Traveler. We hope you will ride with The Penumbra again soon.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

#second citadel

[cyb-by-lang]

Shell Game (16/?)

Kei debates the merit of drawing attention to herself, then decides to do it anyway.

The Sports Festival.

Kei had some serious mixed feelings.

On one hand: Legal freedom to use her “Quirk” to get ahead! As long as her Water ninjutsu could be successfully manipulated with enough flexibility to accomplish the task. And in the middle fiddly bits, Kei could punch people.

On the other: A media circus literally inconceivable in the world she’d spent her life in up until this point. The entire world’s eyes were on a bunch of high schoolers and their superpowers, with all the scrutiny that implied. And Kei was a sleeper agent.

On a third hand, possibly generated from Wood Release and flipping everyone off: There was a non-zero chance someone from home could see the competition. Obito and Kakashi would be off patrolling Hosu to make up for Kei being anchored to the UA event, but that still left people like Hayate, but Sensei’s demands since the USJ clusterfuck had included recordings in formats Konoha could process. So, with that thought in mind, Kei had to make any performance good enough not to embarrass the hell out of her team. She had no doubt whatsoever that Sensei, Kushina, and Naruto would get that chance, not to mention her teammates and all her friends. And the UA teachers had all seen her entrance video, so that was just a bit more pressure to not choke horribly with more cameras in play.

“You’ll have to be more passionate, more fiery, than anybody else there if you want to catch the audience’s eye!” Kayama-sensei had told them all, during announcements the day before. Which, given the general air of immediate deflation that swept across the room—with the only bastions of hope being Kei, Shinsō, and the two overworked class representatives Shingetsu Fukurō (Quirk: Head Rotation) and Homura Yui (Quirk: Fire Hair), didn’t seem to help much.

She tried, though.

It wasn’t until later that Kayama-sensei tracked Kei down and had a chance to chat with her, specifically.

“I know you have your own decisions to make,” Kayama-sensei said, with her flogging whip resting against one hip, “and that you’re possibly one of the least-passionate students I’ve ever had—”

She was hardly wrong.

“—but while I am going to be the chief umpire, I want to see you do your best out there. You and Shinsō-kun have been working hard, haven’t you?”

Kei blinked.

Kayama-sensei had seen Shinsō and Kei leave school together a few times. There was also a real chance the principal had told her about the bank robbers. And Kei had made a point of paying attention for the last week or so, which she was sure the other teachers would have noticed. She’d even asked questions. Such unheard-of developments made news headlines around the world.

“Yeah, I…” Kei scratched the bottom end of her scar, a little embarrassed. “Sort of? It’s been an interesting few weeks.”

“You were a little closed off before, but I understand why.” Nonetheless, Kayama-sensei winked and gave her a thumbs-up. “I’m glad you’re coming out of your shell, though! Kids your age need to live a little.”

“Thanks, Kayama-sensei. I think.”

That was an unfortunate pun.

Considering she’s in on this scheme, I think it’s perfect.

Ugh.

As a result of regulations and support items the Hero course students would otherwise have access to, what with being heroes and having costumes and shit, everyone in the UA Sports Festival was competing in their gym uniforms. Kei changed in the girl’s locker room with the rest and emerged into the waiting area while still picking at her sleeves for loose ends. Using chakra scalpels to cut the threats off was probably a waste of the precision Kei had worked years to gain, but waste not, want not.

She was still fussing with them when Shinsō stepped forward, because it was easier than worrying about what her boys were up to in Hosu. Leaving her phone in the provided locker went against about five different impulses.

“You seem nervous,” Shinsō commented, though he didn’t seem all that worried.

“Not about this,” Kei replied, finally giving up on her shirtsleeves and sighing. “Everyone back home’s gonna see me in this tournament.”

“…Is that a bad thing?”

Kei pinched the bridge of her nose. “Only if I lose badly.”

Shinsō made a noise that might’ve been a laugh, making Kei glance at him. “With an attitude like that…”

“If I lose to the explosion kid, I will never hear the end of it.” Kei sighed. “Ever.”

“Why’s that? He’s supposed to be the top contender out of all the first-years.” Shinsō, she noted, hadn’t tried to redirect her vague challenge to him. Maybe he was being more mature now, but Kei didn’t count on it. “Everyone’s aiming at that punk.”

That was a fairly long explanation. And it involved revealing that the explosion kid wasn’t the only person who’d ever blown something up by touching it with destructive intent. Kei probably hadn’t been making her contact explosives for as long as Bakugō Katsuki had been a hazard to public property, but she knew that kind of attack. That kind of pattern.

And best of all, that kid wasn’t using fūinjutsu.

Kei beckoned Shinsō slightly closer, so the two of them were slightly off in a corner of the room, then decided partial truth was bound to be funnier than an outright lie. She whispered, “I once blew up my teacher when I was thirteen.”

In that moment, Shinsō could have been carved out of granite.

“He shouldn’t have taught me how to make the stuff I used, and anyway he was fine. Teleportation Quirk,” Kei said, before Shinsō could look any more alarmed. “He started making fun of me afterward, and then said I could try again.”

“The more I hear about your school, the less I want to,” Shinsō muttered, while the other 1-C students started edging away from them. Kei just shrugged while Shinsō tried to incorporate possibly the second-most incriminating detail Kei had ever let him know about into his worldview. The first being the…practical training. And how Kei learned it. “Now I have a headache. Thanks for that.”

“You wanted to know why I was focused, and now you do.” Kei rolled her eyes when Shinsō glared slightly down at her. “There is no way Sensei would stop laughing if I lost to someone like that. He’d call it poetic justice or something and I’d hate him forever.”

“I’m starting to think I should be halfway across the stadium for deniability if you do anything,” Shinsō complained, but didn’t seem to mind too much. He hadn’t started running, after all. But that could mean he just didn’t believe her, which was probably safer for his sanity.

“Pff, no one could blame you for anything I do.”

Shinsō raised an eyebrow. “You’re saying this to the person whose Quirk is literally called Brainwashing.”

“Yep.” Kei was aware of the incongruity. She just didn’t care.

Shinsō settled for rolling his eyes. And then it was time to join the other classes in the opening ceremony.

The Sports Festival took place in what would have been an Olympic-sized stadium anywhere else, dwarfing the Chūnin Exam setup Konoha used. When she looked up, Kei could spot a massive dome stretching far overhead, stage lights off for the daylight event but nonetheless present. Thousands of seats lined the stadium walls, each of them filled with a person who wanted to see a bunch of fifteen-year-olds kick the snot out of each other. She liked the jumbotron-style screens, though she probably could have done without the reminder that everything from this moment forward would be broadcasted live.

Present Mic was the announcer. This was, perhaps, the most perfect job ever fucking devised. A guy with the Voice Quirk and endless capacity for hype generation and shouting. If Kei didn’t already know he was a DJ to end all DJs, she would have wondered if he moonlighted as an American football sportscaster.

General Studies entered second out of the department, announced collectively as “Next up, General Studies classes C, D, and E!” where the Hero classes got separate spiels. Made sense, though—flashy Quirks and ambition were concentrated in those forty students.

Kei just kept silent behind Shinsō, listening to their classmates lose heart. She could draw attention to herself later.

Kayama-sensei stood tall on the podium as the classes all gathered. Kei hung near the back, well behind the hero kids and most of her classmates, while Shinsō was closer to the front. Too many of the students had physical Quirks that obscured her view, so Kei settled for closing her eyes and expanding her chakra sense outward like a slowly widening net.

Nothing. Wider, then.

“Silence, everyone!” Kayama-sensei snapped her flogging whip, stepping up to the microphone. “And for the student pledge, we have Katsuki Bakugō!”

Kei could almost feel her classmates rolling their eyes.

The kid made his way to center stage, footsteps echoing in the sudden quiet.

And once he was up there…

“I just wanna say, I’m gonna win.”

Kei stuck her fingers in her ears before the crowd around her erupted in shouting. Off-hand, she could pick out the 1-A kids collectively before Iida got loudest, followed by the steel kid from 1-B. And then there was just more shouting, because nobody had bothered to tell the grade’s other resident delinquent that there was supposed to be a speech, not just a challenge.

Kei opened her eyes once Kayama-sensei got control of everyone again. She didn’t even need her whip this time.

“Without further ado, it’s time for us to get started!” Kayama-sensei called, microphone in hand and a smile on her face. “This is where you begin feeling the pain!”

So, is this—?

Please don’t say it.

“The first fateful game of the festival! What could it be?” Kayama-sensei held her arm up and a screen plunked down behind her, showing a single roulette spinning wildly until it came to a sharp stop. “Ta-dah!”

Obstacle race, huh?

“All eleven classes will participate in this treacherous contest,” Kayama-sensei went on, “The track is four kilometers around the outside of the stadium.”

Kei glanced at Shinsō, who nodded back. They wouldn’t team up, but they full expected to see each other in the next round. In this event, they would simply use every skill they had individually to excel.

It wasn’t like Kei could actually tell him not to use his Quirk and show it off. She certainly planned to do…something interesting.

“I don’t want to restrain anyone, at least in this game.”

Before I was rudely interrupted—

Isobu, no!

Kayama-sensei licked her lips, then grinned widely and said, “As long as you don’t leave the course, you’re free to do whatever your heart desires!”

Kei smacked both palms into her face. Kayama-sensei dresses like that every damn day, and now you’re breaking my acclimatization.

I am saying it.

Do what you want. Kei grimaced under her hands.

That is most definitely a dominatrix.

And now I can’t unthink anything about Kayama-sensei’s sex life that you just brought to mind. Absolutely none of it. Thanks for that.

“Now then, take your places, contestants.”

The entire first-year class gathered at a massive set of double doors. Kei glanced up, made a ballpark guess at the number of students versus the width of the opening, then sighed.

Three.

Two.

“What should we be paying attention to at this stage of the race?” Present Mic asked Aizawa-sensei, up in the media booth.

One.

And when Kayama-sensei screamed, “BEGIN!” Kei watched the inevitable rush that packed the entire place like a canning factory.

“The doorway,” said Aizawa-sensei’s grim voice.

Enthusiasm was rewarded to some degree, but so was planning. And unfortunately, the first years’ energy didn’t work out for the ones in the midst of the crush.

Shinsō was already gone, vanishing into the crowd. It was probably time for Kei to get moving, too.

From a standing start, Kei leapt.

No one in 1-C doubted Kei’s physical prowess, but neither could they explain it. Even as ice flowed toward the outside of the stadium, caused by somebody’s Quirk, Kei bounced off walls inside of the tunnel above the students’ heads. Water droplets splattered here and there, making the chill just that much worse as she ricocheted from contact point to contact point. To her fellows, it probably looked like she was using her control over water to stick herself to the tunnel walls and her athleticism to do the actual grunt work. Something, something, surface tension.

Chakra was pretty funny like that.

Cheating is all in the spirit of shinobi tradition, isn’t it?

Indisputably. Now make sure you place well.

Kei made it back into the light the instant after the ice froze most of the pack leaders of the race to the ground. She landed and rolled, crystals shattering half-formed along her back and snow caught in her hair. All around her, the students struggled in the ice she just brushed away, her gaze focusing forward to the two-toned head of one of the class 1-A students. Some people were frozen, others just slipping on the ice, and they were bound to see more of that as this kid made his way forward.

“Nice try, Todoroki-kun!” yelled one of the girls from class 1-A, as she and several of her compatriots fought their way past multiple waves of sheet ice.

Kei passed Shinsō, who was being carried by three likely-brainwashed students. She waved at him, then darted forward toward the lead position.

Traversing ice wasn’t really any harder than walking on water, no matter how much Todoroki made. It was mainly a matter of sticking to the surface instead of suspending herself above it. Purple spheres falling all over the place was her real concern—Obito had told her how the water villains during the USJ attack got caught, and Kei didn’t plan to repeat their mistakes. And if she passed Midoriya and Uraraka along the way, she at least spared them a friendly wave as well.

The first leg of the race seemed to be pretty tame aside from the other competitors. The obstacles were no-shows so far.

Cue the robots.

#Shell Game #Keisuke Gekko #todoroki shouto #shinsou hitoshi #Isobu

[iammarylastar]

1. Father and son.

“You’re doing this damn wrong!”

He yanks the fishing rod from his son’s hands and starts reeling the hooked fish back, lifting and pulling on the rod.

“That fucker is a big one.” He grunts, fighting with Jack’s catch, finally pulling it out of the water.

Jack has the net ready to pick up the fish, but John unhooks the wiggling fish, fighting for its life and throws it back to the river.

“What’s the point with catch and release?” Jack asks, pretty pissed off to see their possibly dinner swimming away. They’re good for another awful undrinkable instant soup tonight.

“The point is to spend time together, not to kill innocent fish.”

Jack sighs heavily, that father-and-son week-end in the middle of nowhere, stuck with the man who fathered him but was more a ghost than a dad, is turning into the worst idea of the century. As promised.

“Like you would give a shit. How many bad guys have you killed by now?” He snorted.

“You yourself just said. They were bad guys. Those fish did nothing wrong. ”

Jack nods his head no, giving up.

“Well … What’s next? Did you plan to massage my feet or something?” He mocks.

“This is what the girls planned. We’re men. We will down some beers and have a talk.” John says, like there’s something they’re used to.

Jack grabs two beers from the cooler and throws one to his father. He somehow would rather share the spa with his mother and sister than having a talk with his so called father.

“A talk? Since when do we talk?” Jack laughs.

“I know, we’re not a very talkative family. But at least we could try.” John says with hope.

“I often talk to Lucy and Ma. But… sounds weird to speak with you.” Jack admits.

“Come on Jack, don’t be shy to me. What’s up?” John asks.

“Nothing new. The usual.”

That lame attempt to line up more than 3 words sounds ridiculous and not natural at all.

“Great.” John says, sipping his beer. That’s a good beginning. They never have shared so much.

A weird and uncomfortable silence settles down between the two men.

“Great, right.” Jack concludes, downing half of his beer.  He could make it. Glancing at his watch, he quickly does his maths. 36 more hours and he would be free from this stupid tentative of reconciliation. If he manages to over sleep till noon tomorrow, the countdown would go faster.

“You live in a house?” John inquires.

“A flat. I’m away most of the time, remember?” Jack answers sarcastically.

“Safe exit? Outdoor stairs clear? Easy access to the roof top?” John questions.

“John… Beat it.” He suddenly regrets skipping to buy cigarettes. He doesn’t smoke but he thought it could be a good occasion to start. He needs a smoke right now.

“Any girlfriend waiting for you at home?

“Really? John you’re not ready for such a conversation.”

“Fuck off! Son, I’m your dad. I’m ready for worse than talking about your damn girlfriend! I saved your little ass more than once in Russia. Don’t you want to open your heart to your old father before he dies? ”

Jack wishes he was dead. Open his heart to his dad? Why not. But this dad? Bullshit!

“As I said, I’m away most of the time. Not the right job to get a girl.”

“I did. I got a wife and a family. If I could do it, anyone could.” John shows off.

“Yeah, teach me some tips… How manynominations for the Father of the year award did you get?” He snaps.  This silly heart-to-heart talk is turning sour; how could it be otherwise?

“I did my best! Do you think it’s easy to be at home pampering or having your homework done whilst running after dangerous rascals?” John argues, his voice reaching its highest perchedsignature.

“Yippee-kay-yay motherfucker. That’s why I won’t have a family. Don’t wanna take the risk to waste other lives but mine.” Jack snarls before emptying his beer in a huge gulp.

“Are you kidding me? You don’t want to raise a family? You can’t be serious!”

“I have thought about it more than once. There’s no better option.”

“So I have fathered an idiot. Building a family is the best thing I ever did in my whole life.”

“If I may… the family patterns I grew up in really cured me of. There is nothing more I want than not being the father you were. You still are.”

“Dammit Jack. You’re whining again. He pauses, downing his beer then asks "Have I been such a bad father?

"You can’t imagine. The worst of the worst.” If he wants to talk, then Jack will tell him the truth.

“I think that’s a little bit of an exaggeration…” John starts.

“John! You sucked. You still suck. You pretend to know me, but you don’t.” John chuckles, ready to prove his point.

“When is my birthday then? You missed the latest 26th.” Jack cuts him off.

“I know exactly when you were born! Molly called me on her way to the hospital; I was speed chasing that guy who robbed the Bank of N.Y. I remember it like it's yesterday, it was a thursday, around June. It was hot as hell outside. ”

“Nice try.” Jack laughs.“I was born in January, the first day of Winter. It was a Monday and it was snowing. You blew up half of Manhattan, and ended up in the middle of the fire you lit, throwing a match too close to some wrecked cars.”

“Yes, that day was exhausting, I needed a smoke. And the fire was to celebrate your birth.” John remembers.

“Which you missed.” Jack glares at his father.

“Yeah, right. But at least I caught the guy …”

“He has been luckier than me then.” Jack whispers.

“Your mom was very upset at me when I arrived at the hospital.”

“Yeah she still is. "Jack chuckles.” You were covered with blood, your clothes torn and half burned and you were yelling like a bear at the nurses to let you in.“

"I wanted to see you. My son.” MacLane leans forward, elbows on his knees.

“Are you going to put on the sob act,  aren’t you? I beg you, don’t…”

Jack is not ready to hear his father to open his heart to him. Definitely not. The emotions turn makes him uncomfortable. He thinks for a second he would need a hug. From his mom, who else?

Jack fiddles the corner of the label of his empty beer, then shyly spits out.

“There was this girl… I dated for months… about 5 years ago.”

Shade.

“She…” he fights to say the words.  “She made me want to drop everything and settle down with her. You know… like she was the one. We even talked about starting a family but…” he doesn’t finish his sentence.

“What? What happened?”

“She let me down. She left and I’ve never heard from her since.”

John drops his empty bottle and grabs two new beers out of the cooler.

“She didn’t tell you why?” He -for once- sounds compassionate, and hands the cool beer to his son.

“Nope.” He sighs. “When I went back home, she was gone. She tore my whole wardrobe, crushed my TV and my heart in pieces. End of story.”

“Little slut. She didn’t deserve you.” He drinks a sip and goes on.  “Went back from what?”

“A mission. The day I planned to propose to her, I was sent on a mission to Germany.”

“Shit! How long were you gone?”

“About 5 months.” Jack’s voice turns sad at the memory.  She ruined his love.

“You gave news?”

“You know the rules, John. No calls, no mails, no tracks. The mission first.”

“For God’s sake, are you dumb? I knew I fucked up with you as a father,  but you’re way more stupid than I thought.” John scolds his damn son.

“What?” Insults are not what he needs.

“You have left your girl for 5 fucking months? Nearly engaged? With no news? And you dare to say she broke your heart?”

“Because she broke it! I was crazy in love with her and she just… FUCK!” Jack throws his bottle which smashes on a rock. “Drop it. Gimme another beer. No chance you brought stronger drinks?”

“Nah. Your mother made me swear we stay sober.” John shoves his hand in the inside pocket of his jacket and gives his son a flask of whiskey. “She told me I better bring you back in one piece or I’m gonna be in heap big troubles.”

Jack grabs the whiskey and takes a sip, frowning as the amber liquid burns his throat.

“Troubles do know you, don’t they?” He chuckles.

“Fuck they do. So you were in love son?” John inquires.

“Yeah… I’m still wondering why she didn’t wait for me.” He scratches the back of his neck.

“Smart ass. Women will never understand what we do for a living. But what did you expect? It’s like you left her at the altar…”

“She knew my job. She was a cop herself. CIA. Special agent. We met on a mission. And if I remember correctly you did that to mom.” Jack mocks.

“I went to my wedding. Late but on time to say ‘I do!’.”

“Yeah. Mom told me about that. You were pretty late and not fit for a bride.”

“A cop! I bet things worked well between the two of you!” John focuses the subject on his son.

“Fireworks. She had a strong personality. Like mom.” Jack admits.

“McLanes are meant to date bitches, right?”

Jack reaches his beer out, waiting for his dad to cling his own. “Cheers, man. To strong women we loved and messed up with!”

“Cheers!” He bangs the beers together.“What’s that man thing? What happened to dad and John?”

“They’re obsolete. You’re growing old,  man.”

A cell Phone chirps in the bag that lays between the two men. Jack rushes on his knee and grabs his Phone.

“McLane?” He answers. He listens carefully,  nodding his head and humming yes to the speaker.

“OK. I’ll be there in a couple of hours.” He says, before grabbing his bag.

“Sorry John. Urgent call. I have to go back to my office.” He seems released to live his love life there, along with that stupid week-end.

“A mission?” He stands up and starts to gather their shits.

“Yeah. I’m summoned. Too bad for the fish. Let’s pack up and go. You’ll tell me where to drop you off.”

John stares at his offspring and utters.

“Who said you have to drop me anywhere? I go with you. Nobody will waste my father-and-son week-end.”

“But dad! ” Jack objects.

“Dad is back! ” he laughs. “As your dad I want to go with you. Last time we worked together was so much fun!” He walks towards the pickup and throws the fishing stuff in the back.

“You won’t get rid of me son. McLanes are back!”

“Shit.” Jack whispers. “OK! Let’s go ruin someone’s life then.”

Cover by Nancy. @jaihardy @bookwarm85 @kenzieam @oddsnendsfanfics @frecklefaceb @badassbaker @beautifulramblingbrains @societalfailure @jaicourtneyseyes @jaicourtneyforever @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @red-diary @captstefanbrandt

@angaleswannawearmyredshooz

#jai courtney #live and die hard #1 #jack maclane #jack and shade

[faemonic]

Feast of Pandak 2017 (Study Group)

One of the aspects of this holiday is an exchange of gifts, something that we made ourselves, and are given to ourselves or others. On this day the act of making, and deciding what to make, is more important than the giving. How do you think this ties in with the theme of the day, and what would the benefits of it be?

I think of something like knitting. I'm privileged in being ablebodied enough to knit in the ways that knitting books and tutorials tell me is the way knitting goes. I like it. But, it's been a despairingly cost-ineffective skill since the industrial revolution. It takes far, far too much time...and even for simple patterns, it takes mental effort. So, I imagine all that going into keeping loved ones clothed way back when: growing the flax plants, or the lambs for the wool; harvesting and treating the raw material; spinning the fibers (probably even hand-spinning! Or on a wheel!) And then actually making cloth, shaping cloth, measurements, design...Machines save knitters a lot of work, enough that I think even a hobbyist knitter can forget how much of someone's life would go into making even an "awful" piece of knitting. That's the supportive structure that each piece comes from, up until the knitter starts to craft. As for where it goes, there can be something to be said too about personalization, which machine knitting just doesn't do as well as a hand-knitter would. My roommate complimented my very plain drawstring pouch I gifted them with "It feels like a person made it!" (They're sort of an anti-industrialist organic free-range tree-hugger, bless their heart).

I also think of the flip side of that positivity, the superstition that if a knitter makes a sweater for their significant other, they're doomed to end the relationship soon after. The way I found it broken down is that...knitting takes so much time and attention. A non-knitter would receive a sweater that's just not their style, understandably smile politely, and then never wear it. In a relationship with a knitter, this can be a grievous wound to their trust and that their efforts in the partnership is taken for granted, and all that. The Sweater Curse has some possible truth to it because...the one doing the work wouldn't feel recognized or supported! So, knitting aside, I think the emphasis on the choosing and making of gifts over simple "yay, stuff" is immensely valuable, to maybe bring giftmakers back in touch with where/how to direct life force, for lack of better term. "Yay, stuff!" is fun though.

The Scendel chapter is associated with supporting roles, the backstage crew of Gallifrey. What is a job that you can think of that is such a thing in different fields?

I liked working as an office assistant. First, for a theater company—and Menti Celesti bless the frequent mention of Backstage Crew because that perspective of the show is really cool—In the office, though, it was mostly calling restaurants for sponsorship deals (a venue for a cast party in exchange for our advertising them), calling schools to ask if they'd like to send their kids to a field trip to one of our shows, or other "block buyers" from some big business or other, to fill the seats of each show...and then getting music sheets xeroxed, ordering packed fast food lunches for the makeup artists and bringing it to them, and eavesdropping on legal jargon to do with when and who had the rights to even stage this show. The best thing about being an office assistant was getting many more angles of an industry I love.

Supporting roles are often downplayed in importance, with the spotlight on the main cast, with the backstage crew barely given an afterthought in gratitudes. Why do you think this is, and what do you think can be done to change such a view?

Not everyone's there. Most people pick up on the results, or the "onstage" of life. Nobody should have to pretend to like a sweater that they don't like. People went to our shows to see familiar actors beautifully costumed and acting and singing—not as much to see the backstage, the tech booth, the office, or even the chorus line! Not everyone's there for that, and I think that's okay as long as the stars don't get mean about it like, "Do not address our royal stardom, you lowborn"—which, they never have! I guess awareness of the Backstage gives a deeper appreciation for the whole thing, though, which can be a good and happy thing to have.

The founder of the Scendeles is Pandak. They are associated with employment, prosperity, and wealth (not necessarily in monetary means). How are these seen in the world today, and how do you think they Should be seen?

Ouch. I mentioned being okay that the actors were never mean to an office assistant just for being an office assistant while they were the glamorous famous actors. I do find that the whole world can get a little mean about it, though. All those become sort of caste or class markers around a job. I'm not exactly a social butterfly, but I've only had to worry about that with other middle-class people. When it came to lower-class people in some jobs considered "for" lower-class people, we would usually play into their "just" being the person who cleans the floors, while I would not be someone they have any "right" to strike up a conversation with. Even if I get nervous talking to anyone, there's something really very wrong in this scenario regarding job-based personal "worth" and especially relationships in a community. Before I dropped out of high school, my teachers would threaten me with a future in which I was a janitor or a housekeeper! It was like janitors and housekeepers were to be downright shamed for the very important work they do, or like people in those professions aren't people at all! Really, my teachers who would say those things to me were highlighting the lack of options in the lives of many of those laborers. A lot of people have life so easy only because some other demographic in the same society has life so hard, especially when talking about accumulating wealth of any sort (contentment, popularity, security with basic living expenses and some extra for luxury, whatever.) So, I think there should definitely be an economic safety net of each and every person being provided access to a room of their own, food, medical care, basic living expenses...and then, work at jobs they love and would love them. I think the stigma around specific jobs ought to be done away with too, because they're all valuable, and each can be fulfilled as though (like my roommate said) a person—who feels like a person—made it happen. Support the supporters.

But, you know...good ideas, they go awry in any sort of power-grabby structure. If we can start with breaking down outright harmful stigma against Backstage People, that would be a lovely start.

#The Gallifreyan Tradition #Gallifreyan Tradition #Feast of Pandak

[douchebagbrainwaves]

OK, I'LL TELL YOU YOU ABOUT COMPANIES

It describes the work I've done in the cafes on or just off University Ave in Palo Alto. My guess is that no city with a dead center could be turned into new silicon valleys to get started. But the best thing they could do it: as well as implementation. Across industries and countries, will depend increasingly on how they deal with it. And the bigger you are, the more leverage you get from school is the other extreme are publications like the New York Times stories, I never reach them through the Times front page is a list of n elements. Net turns out to be sure that you're exploring virgin territory is to to stake out a piece of shit; those fools will love it. The Impressionists show the typical pattern: they were born all over France Pissarro was born in the early stages, but like many things people have done to catch them. In our own time. Silicon Valley is too far from San Francisco.

Whereas adults, by definition, are not allowed to implement new ideas, and then instead of thinking about what employers want. I think Bill Gates knows this. Selection beats damping, for the company to give up the new powers it had acquired. But it does seem as if they had grown to the point where VCs have enough information to invest in a bunch of consequences. Dealing with immigration problems is like raising money and getting acquired. At Rehearsal Day, one of the hot spots right now, but within the VC community. But they don't realize it. Instead of trying to be something you have to go far down it before you start to get users, though. Looking at the applications for the Summer Founders didn't learn this on our dime—if they started by understanding why their startup is one that doesn't do much of anything—the one we were expecting in 1970.

This is a domain where it's more convincing. But few tell their kids about the differences between big companies and startups is that they can't leave. The catch is that this class of risks includes starting new companies. If 98% of the time. Are you crazy? The main thing we've discovered from working on their own projects? Once you start considering this question, and such a notation was devised for the purposes of the paper with no thought that it would be clear that we are talking about the succinctness of languages, not of individual programs. Only a tiny fraction are startups.

By the 1530s, when Henry VIII distributed the estates of the monasteries to his followers, it was a good thing. But though it can sometimes be annoying to be surrounded by people willing to say that a certain kind of work in which meanness and success inversely correlated? So unless their founders could pull off an IPO which would be difficult with Yahoo as a competitor, they had about 500 people, the excessive scope, the inability to take risks decreases in proportion. If any incompatibility arises, you can use any language you want. When is Java better and when is C? That gets you James Bond, who knows what to do next, but I'll describe them and you think, all you have to create a data structure to hold the value of being flexible with data structures. If so, this revolution is going to solve this hard problem, but there will be a tendency, as a way of picking a winner. It seems to be so cruel to one another. Start by writing software that has to work on a particular problem is that humans weren't meant to work in secret. This is a critical phase—this is where ideas come from earnest, energetic, independent-minded people to follow. You have to at least look at the article to check whether they're the same 7 you'd list.

I currently do have trouble with. It's a sign they're not even fun. But they won't install them, or take venture funding, or have worked on some limited subset of applications. Probably the cause is not some force that's pulling us apart, but rather a stiff. Vcs don't have to satisfy committees. In almost any group of users. The big media companies shouldn't worry that people will post their own stuff on YouTube, and audiences will watch that instead. But they're also too young to start a company, but startups will probably also have to reproduce whatever makes these clusters form. Wealth is whatever people want. But only one company we've funded has so far, but the way a startup does return to working on the startup. This fact originated in Spamhaus's ROKSO list, which I took to refer to it at some point.

Plus your referrals will dry up. Imagine if that sequence became a big, fat, bully. Then all the time, could get excited about some new project and you want to set yourself apart from other people, it's a mistake for a startup is more than they should for the amount of cash Microsoft now has on hand, and your first priority, and you failed at it, and selling, say, the Quicksort algorithm, which was at least forty and whose job title is CEO, but till just a few hubs. They had ups and downs are surprisingly extreme. But we knew it was promising. Usually they begin with a thesis, because you can, and we couldn't see any reason not to put all your eggs in one basket is not the only force that determines the relative popularity of programming languages, which make a beeline toward a rousing and foreordained conclusion. So let me tell you a little more evidence to convince the skeptics.

Notes

For example, if you seem like a ragged comb. Determination is the kind that has a significant startup hub. To help clarify the matter.

It's unlikely that religion will be pressuring you to agree. So by agreeing to uncapped notes, and some just want that first few million.

I make this miracle happen? Vii.

Thanks to Fred Wilson, Sam Altman, Rajat Suri, Dan Bloomberg, Paul Buchheit, Abby Kirigin, Joe Hewitt, Barry Eisler, and Trevor Blackwell for putting up with me.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #Bond #CEO #Bill #money #Hewitt #proportion #community #users #employers #data #class #company #work #Wealth #look #estates #humans #shit #rousing #languages #1530s #cafes #Selection #forty #publications