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fallingappleshurt · 5 years ago

Note

im in the mood for angst, so for your dff au, could you please writing a one shot or smth along those lines of techno coming home from a particularly tough duel and everybody else’s reactions? ty!!! <33

YES HELLO I WRITE

Yes Hello I’m a writer and I forgot about asks but here we go!! I’m sorry this took so long and that it’s really bad but here it is!

This is very poorly edited I’m so sorry lol, this takes place in my dff AU! It’s spunky

And it’s been awhile since I’ve written for this AU so things are a little weird, kind of missed the angst but I got ideas don’t worry

TW: violence, fighting, description of injury but nothing too graphic I think

Dicey Nights

Sword in hand, solid stance, deep breath. He could do this.

Techno tapped his foot anxious against the cement floor, waiting for his opponent to climb over the ropes and enter the arena. The air was thick and hot from the muggy night’s humidity and the crowds incessantly loud cheering. The arena was dimly lit around the stans, all light coming from a giant overhead, casting grimmy light over the blood splatters that stained the rough concrete.

His opponent entered the ring, eyes flashing in the light, lips quirked up in a barely perceptible grin. Techno’s anxiety shot from his stomach to his heart, this man was like a tank, tall with bulky limbs and long flat sword.

Techno pushed his worries away, he had taken on opponents bigger then himself before, just not that big, but they needed the money, he had to win this.

They both walked to the middle of the platform, shook hands, the other man gripping too tightly to be friendly, then they turned and walked back to their starting places.

The buzzer sounded and the man shot forwards, sword swinging in an arch, Techno’s sword clashed with his, metal screeching pierced the air as the man tried to overpower Techno, putting his weight on the sword.

Techno kicked him in the knee, the man sputtered and slipped, allowing Techno to dodge to the side then ram into the man, sending him to the ground. He moved to slash his sword at the man’s neck and fake out the audience then the duel finished, quick and easy if the man stayed down for the three count.

Suddenly the man lashed out and landed a kick square into Techno chest, sending him reeling. Techno scrambled to his feet, stifling a groan. His ribs protesting vehemently, sending shockwaves of fire through his chest, he watched as the other man rolled back onto his feet.

The man, Techno heard the crowd cheering ‘Go Thrasher!’, ran at him again, opting to not overpower him but overwhelm him, he swung wildly, he obviously never had any training.

Techno took the defensive, slash, stab, dodge, block, kick back, and repete, analyzing Thrasher’s fighting style, his patterns and goto movements. Once he memorized the motions he switched to offense, changing his own patterns as well, quick slashes and jabs, forcing Thrasher back, Techno would kick at the man’s legs then go back to swinging.

In a ditch effort Thrasher whipped his sword around only for Techno to kick it out of his hands, sending it flying. Techno slammed into the man once again, taking advantage of his distraction, and knocked him to the ground.

He pointed his sword at the man’s neck, looking down the blade at Thrasher, the crowd around him screaming, “Go Blade go!” He tried to keep his face emotionless, waiting for the announcer to call it off.

Thrasher wasn’t giving up, he kicked at Techno again, who half dodged half stumbled away. Thrasher moved faster then Techno had even seen, Techno lashed out, slicing his arm but it didn’t faze Thrasher. Rage blazing in his eyes he jumped on Techno and knocked him to the ground, half pinning him, a knee on one of Techno’s arms, knocking his sword away.

Thrasher punched him across the face, Techno’s head jerked to the side, pain flaring in his face, nausea rising in his gut as the man reared back and hit him again and again.

Techno weakly grabbed for his sword but came up short, his vision was blurring, hot blood dripped down his face, matting his hair. In a last ditch effort, he threw a punch, aiming for Thrasher's throat, he hit his target dead on and hard.

Thrasher gasped and faltered, his grip loosen and Techno took his chance. He yanked himself away and sent another kick to the man's chest, scrambling towards his sword.

He didn’t know what he was doing, he couldn’t win this, the adrenaline would wear off soon and he’d lose, he wouldn’t be able to fight after this, he’d have to go home empty handed. That thought alone made him feel even more sick.

Thrasher rose to his feet, breathing heavily, Techno got into a weak stance, prepared to go down fighting. You weren’t allowed to kill in the duels but Techno was scared Thrasher would chuck those rules out the window. Thrasher’s fists were clenched, cracked and bloody at his sides, fire in his eyes, he let out a roar. Techno’s grip on his sword tightened and he prepared to swing-

The buzzer sounded.

The fight lasted 10 minutes, the announcer called it a draw. The audience booed and complained as Techno went to shake hands with Thrasher.

Thrasher looked at Techno’s hand in disgust before slapping it away, “You fight dirty, freak.” He growled, Techno scowled but bit his tongue and flipped Thrasher off and stalked off as dignified as he could with the room spinning like a toy top.

He grabbed a bottle of water from the sidelines and chugged it when one of the organizers threw a small pouch at him.

“You’re off your game,” The women commented lazily, not looking up from her clipboard, “I expected better.”

“Then you hop on in there,” Techno grumbled, not making eye contact as he pocketed the pouch, he sheathed his sword.

“I’d rather die,” She said, eyes flickering up from the page, “Just like you almost did.”

Techno snorted, “Please,” He said, shouldering his bag and walking towards the bathrooms, “I neva die.”

He somehow managed to get to the bathroom without collapsing, he pushed open the door and stumbled over to the sinks. He gripped the edge tightly, waiting for the room to stop spinning, he looked up at the mirror and realized he was fucked.

There was a gross cut on his hairline, trickling blood down his face, the right side of his face was covered in blooming bruises, blood from his nose smeared down his chin, he looked like a mess.

He felt like a mess.

Techno grabbed a paper towel and ran it under the faucet then scrubbed it against down his chin and along his hairline, ignoring the sting. He dried his face off then filled up his water bottle, dreading the fact that he couldn’t hide this from his family. He hoped to get home before Wilbur or Tommy woke up, he knew he couldn’t avoid Phil, he got up extra early to be able to commute to work.

Techno started home, not bothering to stay for any other duels, he wouldn’t be able to win, not in the state he was in anyways. He squeezed past the security guards and tried not to fall while walking, the trip home only should have been around forty minutes but between his slow pace and stopping to take breaks so he wouldn’t pass out it took him over 2 hours to get back.

The rusty metal stair squeaked as Techno climbed them, they groaned as he put his weight on the railing, god he wanted to lay down.

He unlocked the door, trying to push it open as quietly as possible, of course the door made that impossible as it creaked loudly.

The door cast a shadow on the soft light coming from the kitchen, Techno could hear dishes clicking quietly.

“Hey Tech,” Phil said, as Techno locked the door again, “You’re back later then usual-” He stopped, staring at Techno’s face, Techno immediately put his hands up, “Now I know what you’re thinking but let me just say; it’s not that bad.”

“Sit,” Phil said, setting his coffee cup down, Techno rolled his eyes, but sat down anyways. “Yeah I saw that coming,”

“Please tell me the other guys looks worse,” Phil prodded at the bruises on Techno’s face, Techno shrugged.

“Please tell me you didn’t get your face fucked up for nothing,”

“I hope? I mean I got a few good hits in, oh that reminds me,” Techno leaned over, rummaging through his bag for money pouch,

He immediately regretted it because it made the room spin again. He grumbled but found the pouch and tossed it on the table.

”It’s not a lot but it’s something,” Techno trailed off, he could have stayed longer, fought harder, been more useful but a few bruises sent him running back home. “I can go back tomorrow, get us more-”

“What? You’re not going back, you look like shit!” Phil said incredulously, checking the cut along his hairline,

“But we need the money,”

“We’ll get by,” Phil’s eyes narrowed, mouth in a tight line.

“That’s a lie-”

“No it’s not,”

“Phil I’m not stupid we need more and I can go back, tonight was just an off, when I go back I can get us more-”

“You’re not going back!” Phil said firmly, “You’ll get hurt again-”

“It’ll be worth it-”

“No! It’s not! Nothing is worth you getting this hurt!” Phil snapped, he took a breath, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry it’s- it’s just not worth it, you need to be okay too, you deserve to be okay.”

Techno sat there, not sure what to say. Phil looked at the clock and swore under his breath, “Shit, I’m gonna be late,” He grabbed his coat, “I’ll see you later, take it easy, alright?” Techno nodded as Phil walked out the door.

He sits there for a minute, not sure what to do, he wants to sleep for 45 hours but he is also hungry. He opted to grab a banana when he hears Wilbur yell from the other room;

“Tommy brush your hair!” The bedroom door opened, “No! It looks fine!” He didn’t notice Techno as he walked into the bathroom, Wilbur followed him out a moment later.

“Hey Wil,”

“Hey Tech, you're up earlier and oh my god are you okay?” He trailed off to the next point, gesturing gingerly at Techno’s face.

“Yes, I’m fine, I promise,” Techno said again, putting his hands up and rolling his eyes. Wilbur nodded, they stood there for a moment before Wilbur asked;

“Did Phil flip out?”

“Oh yeah definitely,”

“Well, at least something’s normal,” Techno snorted.

“Hey Wilbur, we’re low on toothpaste again-” Tommy said, coming out of the bathroom, he looked at Techno and trailed off.

“Uh, Techno, You’ve got a little something,” Tommy gestured to his own face, hand hovering over the whole right side, “on your face, like everywhere.”

Techno snorted and smiled softly, “Thanks for telling me nerd,”

“What happened?”

“Not important,” Techno said, grabbing an orange from their fruit bowl, tossing it at Tommy, who caught it with ease, “What is important is that you’re gonna be late for school, now get going.” He hadn’t told Tommy about the arena fights, he didn’t know how Tommy would react and he didn’t want to encourage it or risk it.

“No I’m not, you’re just avoiding the question!” Tommy protested, jamming his finger into the skin of the orange.

“You sure about that?” Techno nodded to the clock on the wall, 7:06.

“Oh shit, I gotta go,” Tommy said, Wilbur slapped the back of his head, “Language,”

“What come on! You say it all the time!”

“Yeah cause I’m older then you, now grab your shit,”

“Now you're just rubbing it in!” Tommy said, grabbing his backpack off the hook by the door.

“You’re right, now let’s go, I’ll walk to you,” Wilbur stopped in the doorway, Techno could hear the creaks of the stairs as Tommy jumped down. Wilbur looked at Techno, eyes soft.

“Go to sleep Tech, you look like you need it,”

“Well I was going to but now that you said that, I think I’ll stay up,” He teased, Wilbur rolled his eyes.

“If you aren’t asleep by the time I get back I will crush you,”

“I’d like to see you try,” Techno shot back as Wilbur closed the door, locking it.

The banana forgotten and set back on the counter, Techno slipped his shoes and laid down, hoping the others wouldn’t worry too much, he fell asleep almost immediately.

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raeynbowboi · 5 years ago

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Things I want from the Netflix Live-Action Avatar

1. Faithful Casting - An obvious, stupid answer, I want all of the actors to look appropriate for the roles they are playing. Dark-skinned waterbenders and pasty pale firebenders. Obviously, getting every single character to look exactly like their cartoon counterpart is unlikely, but at least the main characters should hopefully be cast as close as possible, though hair and make-up can go a long way. After all, none of the blonde women on Game of Thrones were actually blonde, Lena and Emily were both brunettes. Granted that was HBO funding, but still proof of tv quality special effects.

2. Accurate world design - The Avatar cartoon is a juggernaut of Wuxia style fantasy, and I really want the world to look and feel as close to the cartoon as possible. With all the bending, illogical archetecture, and hybrid animals, while I know a more accurate adaptation will be costly, a good set, costume, and cgi team can really bring this world to life.

3. Queer representation - These days, Netflix seems to be really on board with LGBTQ+ representation, far more than Nickelodeon. Hopefully, Bryke will feel more free to include LGBTQ+ characters, as they did with Korrasami. I think Zuko in particular is a great choice among the main cast. He’s already so confused about who he is and what he wants out of life, there’s no reason you couldn’t add questioning his sexuality to that stirred up pot of emotions. While Zukka is seeing a surge in popularity, Jet is definitely another top contender, due to the interesting friction that’s ripe within their character flaws to become a compelling ill-fated romance between two enemies. Or even just creating a new guy to be Zuko’s love interest would also be welcome. I just think Zuko is the best candidate of the original cast of characters to be LGBTQ+ as it already fits nicely into his character arc of finding what’s right for him, deciding his own fate, and seeking his own happiness. Iroh’s lessons about wanting things for himself instead of what other people told him to want, translates so beautifully to Zuko trying way too hard to date women despite a lack of interest in them. It’s such a natural fit to his story that it’s kind of perfect for Zuko.

4. New Plotlines and Scenes - Whether the show will be a half-hour or hour long format hasn’t been announced, but between possibly longer run times or longer seasons with more episodes, or possibly even both, this could allow the creators to include moments they either had to cut out of the original show, or didn’t have as much time to do as they wanted. For example, Azula was going to have an arranged marriage plotline in season 3, and that’s something they could bring back. There’s also the search for Zuko’s mother, which was covered in the comics, but never addressed in any of the shows. Even smaller things like Yue’s fiance. He charges at Admiral Zhao and goes overboard and we never see him again. Turns out, the creators kind of forgot about him.

5. Potential for Tonal Shifts - While this is a live-action adaptation, it’s unclear at the moment who the target audience for this will be. Whether it’ll be aimed more toward fans of the original, or drawing in a new crowd. But with the more realistic cinematography, slapstick and comedy aren’t going to work as well in a live-action setting. There’s definitely still room for comedy, but the squatch-and-stretch rubberiness of cartoons that allow for exaggurated expressions can’t be matched by live actors. This could potentially lead them to make a more “mature” and darker Avatar that totes itself as more of a dramatic war epic and less of a child-friend comedy adventure.

6. Pushing the Envelop - In a similar vein to point 5, without the censors of Nickelodeon hanging over their necks, there is a lot more freedom with this project to address issues more openly that they may have had to imply or skirt-around in the cartoon to keep it more child-friendly. Even something as simple as confirming Jet’s death. Especially if the tone is darker and more mature, there’s a lot more room for them to really push into more explicitly depicting themes and ideas from the original series, even showing us what happened the night Ursa left.

7. Incorporate Diagetic Languages - Even if it’s as simple as characters greeting each other, it’d be nice to hear even just background extras speaking diagetic Asian languages. I’m going more blanket here because while the writing in the show is Traditional Mandarin, the cultures take inspiration from Japanese, Tibetan, and Inuit as well, and I’m open to both angles. Whether everyone speaks some Mandarin, or if each nation has their own language, any amount of using native Asian languages would be nice.

8. Dante Basco as Uncle Iroh - Okay, so maybe he still has the Zuko voice, but Dante is the only original cast member who is ethnically Asian, and would be appropriate to cast in the live-action setting. Even if he’s not Iroh, casting Dante to play anyone would be welcome. Whether he’s the tempermental Zhao, the malicious Fire Lord Ozai, the sagely Avatar Roku, the brave Hakoda, the stern Master Paku, the wise Master Piandao, the conniving Long Feng, or really any of the older adult male characters, Dante Basco would be a great choice, even just as a cameo character like the Cabbage Merchant.

#avatar #Avatar The Last Airbender #avatar: the last airbender #avatar the legend of aang #avatar: the legend of aang #atla #avatar aang #zuko #katara #sokka #give zuko a boyfriend #gay zuko #zukka #jetko #netflix #netflix avatar #netflix atla #netflix avatar the last airbender #bryke

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canyouhearthelight · 4 years ago

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The Miys, Ch. 124

Second half of the exhibition! Mac’s performance here is based on an actual incident that occurred with one of the many actual cats that Mac is based on.

Trigger warnings for blood here.

Thanks go to @baelpenrose for his beta-reading and Arthur, @zommbiebro for Jokul, @books-and-cartoons for GK, @werewolf2578 for Michael and all the other characters you have added to this story, and @charlylimph-blog for her characters. <3 you both!

“Who is competing in the canine rounds?” Coffey asked, steering the topic smoothly.

“Myself,” Grandma Kim gestured. “Michael and Sparkles, Derek and Machiavelli, for the service round. I believe there are a few more for the security round, but I don’t recall whom.” From GK, that was basically saying they were so far beneath her notice that she refused to learn their names.

A chime sounded, indicating that the intermission had ended. Arthur, Coffey, and I made our way back into the stands, waving to Simon as he worked his way onto the sidelines. Ivan had initially come down ahead of me and Maverick, but was also packing the floor with the competitors for the upcoming events. As soon as we took our seats, Evania announced the next event - sure enough, it was the service and security animal exhibitions.

Rather than the participants stepping forward, Antoine took the floor after Evan. “Previously, these events were separated and considered the ‘canine’ events. However, it has been brought to my attention, most ardently, that service and security animals are not limited to canines, even with the limited amount of animals we currently have on the Ark. As such, we are combining the service and security events, and this year there is a non-canine participant. Due to the nature of the exhibition, I will be personally monitoring from the sidelines in case there is any need for interventions. Also, as with in the past, please be assured that all participants in these events are volunteers and a med bay is on standby.”

Medbay is on standby? I wondered. I didn’t recall that before, but I also hadn’t paid more attention than was necessary to know how many jerky treats to give Lyric and Sparkles.

First up was our veteran, Lyric the First. The elder stateswoman of Ark companions may have hobbled onto the field, but she went through her paces as a service animal with tidy precision. On top of that, the second the ‘security’ portion started and someone brandished a weapon at GK, all concept of ‘elder’ went out the window and Lyric became 120lbs of teeth and fury, daring the faux-attacker to come within six feet of her charge.

I could feel Coffey shudder beside me, at the same time that I could see Arthur nod with approval. I couldn’t lie - there was a part of me that remembered this same dog standing over me when Maverick first dropped by unexpectedly, and I was warmed to know that I had been so safe in that moment.

After the applause due such a respected member of the community, Lyric the First was taken off the field, and it was Lyric II’s turn to show how she lived up to the name. Sure enough, she displayed the same precision in the service animal rounds, but it was clear that she knew this was for show in the security segment. Rather than the degree of savagery her mother had shown, Lyric II was clearly a little confused by the fake-attack. She still received her applause and treats, however, while GK was obviously considering how much more training was needed.

Michael and Sparkle were next, and their performance was on-par with Lyric the First. Rather than having Sparkle function as a service animal for Michael, Sam had volunteered. The moment loud noises started to upset Sam, Sparkle nudged him into a prone position and brought his ribbon over. If someone tried to step to close, she calmly pushed them back. Due to her youth, Michael did step in for the security portion - Sparkle wasn’t trained to decide between security and support yet - and that was where she shined. Without hesitation, she took a defensive stance at any aggression toward Michael, and really did Lyric the First proud.

And then, the fourth round happened. That was what set the crowd’s eyebrows on end, the round with non-stop chatter throughout.

On the contrary to the rounds with both Lyrics and Sparkle, there was no leash, there were no steps to walk through. Instead, the crowd saw Derek Okafor walk out, carrying a lavender blanket and pillow, with a solid mass of feline ink trailing behind him. Rather than lead Mac through any actions, Derek set the pillow down, curled up on the floor, and covered himself with the blanket. In an action I had witnessed on more occasions than I could count, Mac curled his impressive mass on the blanket, just outside of Derek’s elbow. Directed audio amplified Mac’s purring so everyone could hear it, even in the furthest seats.

Suddenly, the audio in the gym played discordant noises. Not even waiting for Derek to flinch, Mac darted under the blanket and a lump erupted where Derek’s ear had been. After a moment, the sound cut off, and instead a bowl of food - one so strong-smelling that I could catch it from my seat - was brought out. Mac poked his nose out and started sneezing convulsively, hissing at the bowl as he moved towards it.

The coup de grace was what came next. Without warning, as soon as the bowl was taken away, someone darted towards Derek from the other side. I could actually feel my soul chuckle for this poor slob as I anticipated what would happen.

Sure enough, Mac became a blur of void and vaulted over Derek, clawing the interloper from elbow to wrist, then from thigh to knee. He hissed and spat, clawing at anything and anyone that came within reach. Nothing could stop the ball of feline fury until Derek darted out an arm to scoop Mac back under the blanket while the poor volunteer - who looked like they had a bad date with a Cuisinart - was led to the aforementioned med bay.

“I’m not sure they knew they were signing up for this,” I murmured to Maverick and Coffey.

Coffey made a firmly negative gesture. “I assure you that they were aware. That particular volunteer? She has been Machiavelli’s training target for three months now.”

“Why?” I sputtered.

“Some people are afraid of dogs,” Coffey shrugged. Given his clear discomfort watching both Lyrics perform, it made more sense suddenly. I knew he wasn’t afraid of dogs - he kept treats in his pocket for Lyric and Lyric II, at all times - but we weren’t far enough removed from Earth to make everyone comfortable with the kinds of dogs that worked best as service animals.

A cat, though? I knew from a lifetime of experience that nothing was as persistent or vicious as a cat, when properly motivated.

The audience was respectfully silent until Mac and Derek left the gym, before cheering wildly. Even from where I was sitting, I could hear people talking about the potential of having a cat once the colony was established. As a firmly devoted cat owner, I couldn’t even make up an excuse to argue.

Arthur leaned over so I could hear him clearly. “You never told me you have an attack cat.”

“I’ve always had them,” I admitted. “I just didn’t know it wasn’t a normal thing.”

“Mac is a good kitty.”

“The best kitty,” Coffey corrected with a grin. At some point, he had adopted Derek as a younger brother/nephew figure, and by extension doted on Mac to the point of chemical warfare.

“The only kitty,” I pointed out. I would have loved for the Ark to have ship cats, but we had learned - the hard way - that genetic enhancements were necessary for them to thrive in the gravity we were operating under. It was part of the reason Mac was so large - four years ago, he had actually undergone a heart transplant so his vasculatory system would function in the increased gravity. Where Lyric II and Sparkles had benefited from what Miys learned from the original Lyric, Mac was the original.

The next event was thrown projectiles, so I took the opportunity to go grab some popcorn and sausage-rolls for the last two events. No one in my family was participating in the javelin/spear exhibition, but I knew that Xiomara and Evan would be eyeing these candidates closely for colonial security, so I made a point to pay attention. However, despite my original reason for keeping an eye on the event, I found myself fascinated. Each spear had a different range for accuracy, a different technique for throwing… I found myself filing the information away for later, anticipating a very rousing conversation with our Councillor of Security and her protege. Ivan Thorsson, to nobody’s surprise, excelled.

However, the last event of the exhibition was finally at hand - archery. Charly had made several attempts to have this event be its own exhibition - the projectiles were not thrown, nor were they combustion - but a sheer lack of participants inevitably led to the sport being included with the ‘non combustion’ weapons exhibition, in the same way the animal companion events were. On the plus side, participation this Von-year made a strong case for archery being its own event.

Participants were allowed ten arrows, ten targets, and fifteen minutes to fire all arrows. Bows could be any size, but had to be pulled by hand - no crossbows, no hooks to draw. Targets were only 25cm in diameter, and any shots that missed the desired target were counted off, with a double ‘friendly fire’ deduction if the arrow hit an entirely different target.

Even with all the restrictions, there were no less than twelve participants in this event, more than any other.

Maverick was first. While he was exceptionally precise, his Shinto-style did not lend itself well to speed. Next came Tyche, who landed killing hits on every shot, though with far less aplomb than her knife-throwing had shown. Arthur had a similar result - fast and deadly, but less accurate than Maverick - before MIchael Smith took the stage again, to my surprise.

My jaw hit the floor as he pulled just as fast as Tyche and Arthur, with the same accuracy of Maverick. Very few people took part in multiple exhibitions, and to see him do so well in three was a shock. Nonetheless, he swapped out with the next participant with zero acknowledgement of his performance.

After that, the event continued: several people I did not recognize, before all that was left were Conor and Charly. Similar to his style of throwing knives, Conor drew ambidextrously and over the shoulder. The connection was crystal clear as you watched his motion - a smooth draw, looped into a pull and release. The only difference was that, where he would throw a knife, he would draw the arrow.

Next, I expected Charly, but what I saw made my head spin: Simon Rodriguez stepped out of a back room, with a longbow and a quiver full of arrows. Even more incredibly, he did not stand in front of any specific target, but stood in the center of all ten. With one deep breath, he started drawing from his waist, firing and drawing, arrow after arrow, in a smooth, mechanical motion.

Every arrow struck the center of the target.

The blood drained from my face as I realised why Tyche had threatened Conor with allowing Simon to use him for target practice…. I had no idea, at the time, that Simon was such an incredible shot. Immediately, I felt guilty.

Before I could apologize to him, Charly and her bow walked out. Speaking now felt like an obscenity, since this was the reason so many people were still here. Sure enough, as soon as the targets were replaced, she displayed a foreign calm as she fired shot after shot.

Ten shots. Ten exact centers. Ten arrowheads protruding from the back of targets by a minimum of two inches.

Twelve seconds total.

The transition between Simon and Charly took place so quickly that I had no idea who the applause was for - the Twelve Second Sorceress, or her clear protege. Either way, the end of the exhibition was explosive, to say the least.

I turned to Conor, ready to apologise for not taking the previous threat as serious at it was, when he said something that made me slap my face and groan.

“Bless it, do you think Simon will show me how to do that?”

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#the miys #humans are weird #tw blood #humans are space orcs #humans baffle aliens #aliens #apocalypse #post-apocalypse #science fiction #original science fiction #my writing

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bigskydreaming · 5 years ago

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For @broimbi because their continued interest in By Lost Ways keeps me engaged, and prompted this slight detour into the notes of Roy on the trick behind crafting magical arrows. Not totally one hundred percent sure I’m ‘canonizing’ this as officially part of the story’s backstory, but it is all set before the start of it, and mostly just a humorous exploration of the magic. You don’t really need prior knowledge of DC to follow along, or even the story itself, as the important stuff all gets recovered in his own words anyway.

The notes of one Roy Harper on the magic-science of feathercrafting and fletching:

Herein lies everything I’ve uncovered, experimented and surmised on the subject of using magical feathercraftings in pursuit of archery. For posterity, see. So that future generations can bask in the brilliance of me.

Hey, that rhymed.

Now of course, people have been used feathercrafting to make arrows with special properties for centuries. But I always felt, from a very young age, that there was so much more to the artform than had been discovered so far, and so many more secrets within the Deck, specific to archery, just waiting to be unlocked. And thus began my own lifelong quest to seek out and uncover those mysteries, and leave my own mark upon the art of feathercrafting arrows.

It had nothing to do with me being bored, and anyone who says otherwise is a liar who should be ignored. Especially if their name is West.

To start off, a lot of feathercrafting is self-explanatory, when it comes to making arrows....sure, everyone knows that most feathers have more than a couple different properties, but arrows themselves tend to be a lot more finite in function, and thus there’s only so many ways - and so many reasons - for which people would modify them with feathercraftings. Thus any time you use feathers of all the same kind when crafting an arrow - say, much like you would if you were making a non-magical arrow - you’re pretty much only going to get one magical effect.....though that’s usually all you’re looking for.

So whether you use three or four feathers, it makes no difference if they’re all of the same type. Any arrow made with seagull feathers, for example, is made with distance in mind....to channel the magical properties of the Regent of Distance, and thus magically extend an arrow’s flight. Arrows made with sparrow feathers, its opposing Regent force, are looking to reduce distance, with such arrows often being utilized over the centuries by so-called snipers....the magic of their sparrow feathers ‘eating up’ the distance they cross at a much greater rate than they would non-magically, with gains made here to accuracy, impact, etc. But I’ll get back to that.

But similarly, tanager feathers are pretty much all you need for an incendiary arrow, something you just want to ignite upon impact, while canary feathers have long been used to make the kind of arrows West calls screamers, which is reason number five hundred and ten why he’s never allowed near my workshop. And also shouldn’t be allowed to speak, ever. Or at least not in civilized company. No, I had it right the first time, ever. Gotta trust my instincts.

So, that’s all pretty much a given. And when you use three different feathercraftings of all different kinds in your arrow, you suddenly get a lot going on all at once, unlocking a lot of interesting combinations, but its still fairly straightforward. All three feathercraftings lend their magic simultaneously, working in concert either in flight or upon impact, or at least not at odds directly. Unless two of those feathercraftings are of opposing Regents, at which point their magic will just cancel each other out, but why would you even do that, that’s stupid and wasteful, what’s the point. Opposing regents act in opposition to each other. They’re opposites. Everyone knows that, duh.

Unless....hang on, just had a thought.

Okay so technically, because its not like opposing Regents cancel each other out completely, or completely negate each other and the forces they embody, and in fact according to legend and acts of ridiculousness as witnessed by me, watching my best friend the Robin Regent be ridiculous, like when you consider that in a lot of ways and times and places the Regents and their respective forces are meant to act as limiting agents upon each other, not negating ones......okay, so theoretically, there could be purpose to combining, say, sparrow and seagull craftings to the same arrow, if you were able to in some way quantify how much their magic acts upon each other, and thus calculate say.....how to combine sparrow and sea gull feathers in such a way as to get a precise distance as an end result, with the sea gull feathers magically increasing the length of the arrow’s flight, but the sparrow feathercrafting being precise enough in....diluting the sea gull feathercraftings, for lack of a better word, that it ensures the arrow doesn’t overshoot its mark but rather while enhanced in distance, still is limited in how enhanced it is and thus can still strike a far off target with precision. Obviously, there wouldn’t have been much point to this line of thought in ages past because the greater issue here is there’s not much point to an arrow that flies significantly further than you can aim anyway, but with advances in telescopics and magnifying lens, that’s no longer the given that it once was, which means.....

Hang on notes, and by notes I mean self, and also future audiences of fans legion in number.....I’m about to go revolutionize the entire art of feathercrafting arrows!

****

Okay, after a looooot of experimentation, and I do mean a lot, I have concluded that yes, my idea here has merit, and no, I’m probably not the first to think of it. But rather, the reason its not a known thing practiced the world over is because getting the mitigating effects of one Regent’s feather upon another in arrow-making, like, requires precise calculations that are dependent on a math and units of measurement that I don’t think have been invented yet? Like, to do what I’m trying to do, or make it happen reliably rather than sporadically, one first has to have some system of measuring the magical forces embodied and contained within each feathercrafting, and so manipulate and cultivate the feathercraftings via their size, shape and combination, in such a way as to result in the precise magical output without getting in the way of the fletchings enabling the arrow’s flight in the first place, rather than hindering it. Its that last part that’s really the sticking point....obviously, people combining feathercraftings and manipulating their magical output via the shaping of the feathers themselves...this is something that’s been done in all sorts of ways in all parts of society throughout civilization....but usually its considered to be more of an art than a science. Something without hard and fast rules, something most feathercrafters say is more a matter of feel and intuition rather than looking to engineer - and replicate - precise results with each and every crafting. But archery doesn’t allow for that kind of thing.....it’s physics, its momentum and force and angle and lift and drag and all kinds of things that require knowing exactly what you’re working with when you notch each arrow to your string, otherwise, might as well shoot yourself in the foot. Its just not something that’ll work, at least not in any worthwhile way, without having that science for reliably combining feathercrafted fletchings in known ways, to act as a known quantity on the magical output.

So, guess I’ll have to admit defeat.

Orrrrrrrr, I’ll just have to invent that myself!

Ding ding ding, the roar of the crowds have it, the decision has been made, option two is the clear winner!

*****

Endless months, feathers, arrows and “you look so dumb right now, haha I love it”s from West later.....the secret to this still eludes me.

Whatever. I’m not bitter about it. I’m not.

I’ve figured a lot else out in the meanwhile, anyway, and I’m getting the hang of tricks no other archer I know of has even imagined. That I mean, I know of, anyway. Maybe they exist. Who cares, I’m still at the cutting edge of my field here is the point.

So, the mixing and matching of feathercraftings from two different Regents who aren’t in opposition, and thus whose magic can only add to each others.....

Turns out, there’s a lot more to even just that, than I ever imagined.

Looking back through the notes that were definitely a good idea to keep even if they’d probably be a more useful idea if I learned to remember to add to them more often, I see at one point I was about to expand upon what happens when you have three feathercraftings of all different types combined in one arrow. Well, as I said then, that’s not really a new idea either, so most everyone already knows how that works. As long as none of the three are from opposing Regents, they each by default seem to exert the same magical influence on the arrow, whether in flight or upon impact depending on the nature of each feather and their magic.

Say you take a dove feathercrafting, and an owl, and a seagull.....the seagull’s magic is naturally predisposed to arrow flight, being that of the regent of distance - unless there’s some way to tweak or delay the activation of its magic to ensure it doesn’t release until impact, and thus ensures it’s magic will actually be spent in some way upon its target, though not sure what you’d be looking to do to a target with distance magic, still, food for thought maybe, hmmm -

Where was I? Oh right. So the seagull feathercrafting is by default inclined to exert itself on an object in motion - such as the arrow in flight - and enhance the distance it travels. The dove feathercrafting, by contrast, is inclined to exert itself upon impact, with most dove-crafted arrows being termed things like ‘shockers’ by morons such as West, who are way too responsible for way too many of our colloquialisms in society, something really should be done about that, but delivering electrical shocks upon impact, channeling electricity in some way....or as people in past centuries often termed it, channeling lightning.

But I mean, you never know.....more than one place has a legend or story of arrows that ‘call the lightning’ and while a lot of people just tend to assume that was their ‘uneducated’ way of describing the electricity-generating properties of a dove-crafted arrow shocking someone it struck....given what we know these days about so-called electromagnetism, and the relationship between electricity - even in the form of lightning - and magnetism, specifically magnetic metals and alloys.....what if those stories weren’t just talking about your basic ‘shocker’ arrows at all? Imagine a battle that was say, taking place during a storm, and a dove-crafted arrow that upon impact didn’t just release an electric jolt of its own into its target....but rather acted as a kind of superconductor that was basically like a magical lightning rod, calling the next lightning bolt to zero in on it specifically? Now that’s what I would call ‘calling the lightning.’

Note to self: experiment with this immediately. Enlist West’s help, but do not tell him why. Need to know information only.

Y’know, Donna’s always saying that us humans of this world - as opposed to wherever the hell it is Themyscirans and Atlanteans come from - have forgotten more than we know. I really should remember to ask her what exactly she means by that one of these days, instead of just staring at her without blinking cuz she’s doing things like talking and gesturing and I mean....have you seen her? The way she just....talks and gestures....look you would get distracted too, notes, is all I’m saying, and don’t say I don’t know that cuz I do know that because you’re me.

Aaaaand I’m officially talking to myself. Great. Awesome.

Getting back to my point, heroically, and with effort that should be applauded, take heed legions of future fans......so as stated, the sea gull crafting is predisposed to exert itself upon an arrow’s flight, while the dove crafting defaults to exerting itself upon impact. The owl crafting, as most already know, is similarly predisposed to exert itself upon flight. With most owl-crafted arrows being termed ‘silencers’ and used to strike a target without warning, as the sound of the arrow’s flight is nullified by the silencing magic of owl feathers.

But does that have to be the case? What if - I can’t help but circle back to that idea of shaping a feathercrafting to almost time-release its magic - just saying, imagine if you could design an arrow with owl feathercraftings that don’t just silence the arrow in flight....but also create a silencing bubble upon impact, with their magic ensuring that the target makes no noise when your arrow hits home, even if you weren’t aiming for a kill-shot to the throat, say, but rather an immobilizing shot to a limb or appendage that wouldn’t in and of itself stop them from screaming or shouting?

Ugh, there’s got to be a way to do that, a trick to it somehow. There just has to be because....okay, yes, I know, its magic, I suppose it doesn’t have to do anything but just exist, but....I’m telling you, me, posterity, whatever.....there’s something to this, this is a question of how that just needs an answer, and the answer is me, that’s who, fuckers!

Look, obviously I meant to say this is a question of who’s going to be the one to figure out the secret, don’t be such a self-deprecating pedant, self. Nobody likes those.

Anyway, so the combination of sea gull, owl and dove fletchings is such that you’ll get an arrow that’s silent in flight, covers a magically extended amount of ground, and delivers an electrical shock upon impact.

Unless there’s a way to change whether crafted fletchings of certain types must always expended their magic in flight versus be delayed and only released upon impact.

Great, now I have to figure that one all out for myself too, since no one else seems to want to do the hard work. I better have the kind of genius that’s actually appreciated during my own time rather than post-humously, is all I’m saying.

Oh yeah, and also, so the ummm, thing about what happens when you combined just two different feather-craftings in specific, in an arrow with three fletchings. Ie that thing I never got around to detailing before and was thus what I was going to detail now this time but that I obviously did not do this and oh look, Garth is calling us all for supper and I have to go before Wally poisons mine, you understand. Next time. I’ll get to it for sure next time. Which will be uh....later this week, probably.

*****

So that was a whole fucking year ago, huh? Don’t hate me, future fans, I was busy saving the world with my friends, Dick lost his Robin regency and moped about it even though he was the Owl Regent then almost immediately and just didn’t fucking tell anyone for two months which what even is that about, I would like to know, except then it turned out well no, I wouldn’t like to know as actually that was mostly just him angsting about some deep dark family history of his with this secret society of Owl Regent worshippers or whatever in Gotham and like, can I just say, with emphasis, fuck Gotham and everything to ever come out of that place except for Dinah, who is amazing obviously, and thus too good for Ollie, also obviously, even if he’s not actually being the worst currently and we actually had a decent(ish) conversation the other day, and oh yeah. The Cult of Owl-Worshippers or whatever, so right, those are a thing, and they suck, and we had to team up with Dick’s replacement Robin Regent, who I of course was inclined to hate on principle, except he’s actually an adorable little shit that I gotta say will probably make a damn good Robin. Anyway, so that was a whole thing that took forever and a day, and then cheering Dick up and helping him adjust to his new station or whatever also took time, but was definitely worth it for reasons that are many and complicated and have nothing to do with me being like “in love with him or whatever” so just shut up, you have no idea what you’re talking about and you sound just like West.

Anyway. Moving on.

Right, so back to the whole thing about what if you have an arrow with three feathers and feathercraftings of two different types - hah! So turns out, its a good fucking thing I waited to tackle this topic, as I accidentally unearthed a whole shitload of new insights and approaches here over this past year, so. Y’know. Yeah. I definitely took my time getting back to that with reasons. That were deliberate, and well thought out, and also totally real things that exist.

So.

Imagine you have one arrow. Its got three fletchings. Two of them are feather-craftings of one type, with the third being of a different type. Now conventional wisdom previously would have you believe that the end result of this combination would prioritize one Regent’s magic over the other, but it being completely random which magic would be the one emphasized and either modified or amplified by the other....and with it making no difference whatsoever what feathers were used, which one was used as the stabilizer fletching, etc. The arrow that resulted from the combination of two different magics would be a combination of those two magics, certainly, but beyond that, its just down to the whims of Mother Sky.

Except, I have discovered, through thorough experimentation and keen insights and intuition and also intellect, hi, yes, I have all three, who is so sexy, yes that is me....

That this is not true.

Or at least, I don’t think it is.

I’m pretty sure, anyway.

Look, the takeaway is that far be it from me to pretend to know the mind of a goddess, I mean, I’m not trying to sound egotistical or anything, but I’m starting to be of the suspicion that Mother Sky is a lot less whimsical than the stories would have us believe. And that there is actually a pretty precise method to her madness, and it just lies in having a better understanding of the Deck than we actually do. But the answers are there! They just need. Insights. Delivered by the likes of yours truly.

So. Let’s get insightful.

The one constant with this two-to-one combination type of arrow, is that either the one feather will modify the magic of the other two, or the two feathers will amplify the magic of the one feather. But which results is not actually random at all, I don’t think, but rather, has to do with where the feathers and their corresponding Regents fall within the Deck.

As legends tell it, there is a definite order to the Deck, though different cultures and civilizations have had differing ideas over the millennia as to what that precise order is. But the idea is always the same: in the beginning, there was Mother Sky, who existed in a place that was not a place, as it was before places existed because she’d yet to invent them, basically. But then from nothing, she created her companions, the birds that embodied or contained within them or just inspired the various pieces of creation and fundamental forces, depending on which version of the story you go with. And when she was done, she created people, and then before she left to create elsewhere, she turned her companions into people as well, the first Regents, to watch over her creation in her stead, via the pieces of her own power she entrusted them with.

But the point being, she built the Deck - and creation - piece by piece, rather than all at once. And everything either built upon what came before it - acting as a modifier, you might say, if you were brilliant, and/or me - or else it amplified what came after it. Because creation got more and more complex the further she went with it, and so the ways the previous pieces existed and interacted with each other and later additions, got more and more intricate and complex.

See where I’m going with this?

Its okay. I’ll elaborate. I don’t mind.

So everyone agrees that the Sparrow is the first card in the Deck, that’s a given. No one disputes the order of the first full talon, the set of four complete Regents that make a whole. First there was nothing, and then Mother Sky called into being the first sparrow, and with it came space, so that the first thing that was not her had somewhere to exist. Like, she may not have needed existence in order to exist, but she was a goddess, they can do that I guess. Everything else? Existence required. So in order for her to have her first companion, that necessitated also creating at the same time the first piece of existence, so that something could exist outside of just her. And then from there, she created the seagull and more space, so it could exist too, and then she sent it forth to go as far and wide as it wanted to and thus created more space everywhere it went. And that’s why the sparrow and the seagull are less space and more space, the reduction and propagation side of the same thing, but you’re gonna want to pay attention in a second because I have an insight here that you won’t find most anywhere else, and it is stunning if I do say so myself.

But first, let’s continue. So after space, Mother Sky next created time. Calling first into being the hummingbird, the eventual Regent of joy and vitality, the encapsulation of time in an instant, existing with no need for anything beyond just that....and then to create more of it anyway, she created the crane, the eventual Regent of permanence and longevity.

And then, most agree, she created the magpie and with it, things, and then the kingfisher and with it, more things. The regents or forces embodying quantity. And then came entropy, or “things change.” First with the robin, and then things change more, with the vulture.

Now, let’s get insightful. As I was saying, conventional wisdom, that conniving old coot, would have you believe that the opposing Regents act as negating influences on each other. That they cancel each other out. Why? Different theories. Most popular ones being that it was to keep each other in check, so that none would get too powerful and thus imbalance all of creation, or try to usurp it and rule it in her stead.

I have come to believe, however, that this is hogwash. Perhaps even complete balderdash. Why would she need to? We also all agree that the reason Regents come and go is because periodically and at her whim, she takes back her power from one and gives it to someone else. So....who needs proxies to act to keep other proxies in check....when she herself can simply just....take back that power at any time, if she’s for any reason displeased at how a Regent is wielding it?

So I suspect the truth is not so complex, or rather, that there’s no complexity here at all. Its exactly as stated in every version of our creation myth.....these opposing Regents, while they may be in opposition, are not actually meant to cancel each other out or negate each other....something none of them actually do. No, they’re just the dual forces of each aspect of creation. The opposite sides of a spectrum that simply represent that each exist along a spectrum.

Granted, most theologians don’t have Dick Grayson for a best friend, so let’s not be too hard on them. But having witnessed him up close and in action since pretty much his first day as the Robin Regent, I can assure everyone: he has always been just as much a force of entropy as any Vulture Regent. And that’s why similarly, the Magpie Regent exists as one of the two regents of quantity, even though its magic makes less of things, it takes things away.

But the one thing it never does, is make no things.

Think about it. Unless I’m missing some legend somewhere, nowhere in history has a Magpie Regent or its magic ever resulted in something being just...completely nonexistent. Same with the Sparrow. It reduces distance, space, consumes it magically, eats it up, whatever...but it doesn’t ever result in the complete non-existence of space.

We refer to there being a reduction and a propagation side to each Regent and their corresponding force....but reduction simply means to reduce. Nowhere does it say “all the way to zero.” Instead, I believe, the point of the various reduction regents and forces is that they push creation back along the spectrum more towards their side of things.....where they exist as the only unit of that particular force or aspect....but they still very much do exist. The Magpie might reset things back to one, emblematic of when it and what it represented was the only ‘thing’ that existed other than the goddess and her other Regents, the first unit of quantity rather than a time/space continuum full of possibility but nothing more finite or existant than that. But it’ll never - can never - push things past just that unit of one. It can’t negate something out of existence entirely. That’s a power only Mother Sky has, and that she’s never delegated to anyone else.

And that, I believe, is why whether feathercraftings act upon one another to modify or amplify each other, is not random at all, but just has to do with where they fall in the Deck, in relation to each other. When you view the Deck as being about opposing forces contained within spectrums, rather than negating forces existing outside of spectrums, it makes sense - just like the creation myths all talk of her building upon creation and adding to it, widening it, making more....of course magic isn’t going to be about undoing all of her hard work, but rather just more of the same.

And thus, lower-Deck cards will always exert themselves upon higher-Deck cards, and not the other way around....because all of creation is geared towards making the most of its upper reaches as it builds and builds upon itself.

Creation reaches upwards, as if to the sky, is what I’m saying. This just is sometimes more obvious than at other times.

So take a sparrow-crafting and two hummingbird-craftings, as an example.

Its not actually random, or about which you use two feathers of and which only one: the sparrowcrafting or craftings will always act upon the hummingbird, and never the other way around. Additionally, you’ll see what appears to be the same result either way, but this is because of the close connection between time and space. They’re part of the same talon, the same hand of four. They exist upon the same continuum. Either way, you result in an arrow that seems to cross a short amount of distance much more rapidly than it otherwise would.

And what actually results is the sparrow’s magic acts upon the hummingbird’s magic....so that how much space is consumed in relationship to the hummingbird’s rapid-rate of time....that’s what goes up.

So what the extra feather decides, really, is which magic gets two parts magic for the one part magic brought to the equation by the other feather. It just really makes no particular difference in this specific instance, due to them all still being on the same specific continuum. If you have two sparrow feathers for one hummingbird feather.....you’re essentially requisitioning two times a magical rate of distance to be consumed in correlation to the speed-up effect brought on by the hummingbird crafting. Ergo....an arrow that crosses a short amount of distance far more quickly than otherwise possible. Now reverse that, and use one sparrow crafting accompanying two hummingbirdcraftings....what you’ve done here is requisitioned two times a magical rate of time to be consumed in correlation with the space-consuming distance magic of the sparrow crafting....thus resulting in....an arrow that crosses a short amount of distance far more quickly than otherwise possible. Not just different perspectives of the same phenomenon....but the same phenomenon resulting from different manipulations of the same forces....and all those forces being closely linked enough to make the precise nature of what’s happening seem less distinct than it actually is.

Now let’s progress to combining two craftings from different hands, to make the differences more distinct.

Take here, for instance, a combination of swan and crane. Now you might be surprised, legions of future fans, as swan-craftings are rarely used as fletchings. Due to there being little use for arrows that make things float upon impact. But this is only true of people who don’t have housemates who frequently yell at you for experimenting with arrows that do things other than just make something float harmlessly. And there’s not much harm that can result in using pillows for target practice even if the pillows then just float aimlessly for various periods of time afterward.

Who knew annoying housemates could have such a beneficial impact upon science? Yes, even a West may have a purpose. Its true. What a strange and wonderful world we live in.

Anyway.

So after much experimentation, and even more experimentation to replicate the results reliably....I can safely confirm that regardless of how you combine the craftings, the swan magic will always be prioritized, with the lower-Deck magic, that of the crane, acting as the modifier upon it. Meaning one way or another, what results is the effects of the swan’s levitation magic being extended by the crane’s longevity magic.

The only thing that changes, results from whether its two crane feathers used, or two swan feathers. Here’s where two parts magic for one part....other magic, I guess....comes into play:

If its two cranecraftings per one swancrafting, the cranecrafting will still modify the swan, and what will actually be amplified, the magic you get more of, is that the rate of the cranecrafting’s modification of the swancrafting. Basically, the result you’ll see is the target floating due to the swan magic, but for longer than would normally happen, as the crane crafting extends the duration of the swan magic’s effects.....and with the second crane crafting essentially doubling the time-extending effects.

In comparison, if you go with two parts swan for one part crane, the cranecrafting again modifies the swan, but for a shorter period of time, as what’s actually amplified here is the swan magic. The amount the arrow can levitate upon impact, the weight of the target struck, that’s what’s doubled, with the overall effect simply magically extended by one unit of magical time modification.

Now this opens up a ton of possibilities all on its own, but it did seem to sound the death knell for my time release magic arrow idea.....or so I thought....until insight once again struck like divine inspiration. Which seems to masquerade as sleep deprivation an awful lot. But as I said, who am I to understand the ways of a goddess? Ah well.

So, its no surprise this didn’t occur to me earlier, as the archer in me balks at the very thought....but what about combining hummingbird and cranecraftings with a third? Hummingbirdcraftings have been used for centuries as crossbow bolts, if you’re working with a small enough one, and its been proven possible that while not advisable from a purely physics-prioritizing standpoint to shorn the feathers of much larger birds to small enough sizes that they can be utilized as fletchings on the very same, very small crossbow bolts.....but the combination of magics that unleashes has proven worth it on some occasions. Still, I don’t think anyone has ever tried utilizing both a crane and a hummingbird-crafting on the same crossbow bolt...but that’s largely because nobody sees much point in calling upon the magic of two Regents thought to cancel each other out.

But if its not actually in their nature to cancel each other out entirely, but rather at most to be mitigating factors or influences.....and if my theory about feathers always modifying the magic of higher Deck cards, never lower, is correct, as it clearly is for I am brilliant and also sexy, don’t forget that last part, its critical.....

Then cranecraftings, as low in the Deck as they stem from, still can be modified by three specific craftings themselves: those of sparrows and sea gulls....and also hummingbirds.

Which means, it might be possible to create a crossbow bolt with a combination of one cranecrafting, one hummingbird, and one other.....where the hummingbird acts as a mitigating agent upon the cranecrafting, before the latter acts upon the third. Basically, if I can crack the secret to definitively quantifying or measuring the magic of each crafting, down to a decimal point, and thus deal in fractions of a whole crafting rather than just units of one.....then I could mix and match hummingbird-craftings with cranecraftings that are measured to have more magic than the former. Which if my theory is right, would mean that the hummingbird and cranecraftings would essentially ‘cancel each other out’ but only until the hummingbird’s magic was fully consumed.....but the cranecrafting still having some magic left in it that only then at that point, once no longer held in check, would act upon a third feather. And thus resulting in the time release phenomenon I’m aiming for.

Look, its possible, and I will figure out how to make it happen, or my name isn’t Roy “Look how awesome my butt is” Harper.

Will look into this and report back.

****

Still have not cracked that secret. Still not allowed to use West for target practice. Still not saying these two things are in any way linked, just putting that out there.

I keep telling the rest of them its for science, but do they care? Noooo. Ugh. Barbarians. If this was ten thousand years ago and it were up to them, we would never master the tool that is fire, all because they’d never let me set the tool that is Wally on fire to demonstrate how useful fire can be.

Why do they hate progress? I just wanna know.

****

Still working on that time release magic thing. Still being thwarted. Revolutionizing archery by way of magic is hard. Why did nobody warn me that was a thing?

But you know what else is a thing? Physics! Its a wonderful, wonderful thing.

Obviously I already knew about physics, hello, but I didn’t know so much about physics until Dick wandered home with a new best friend named Victor Stone. He does that an awful lot. He swears its not a Regent thing, but I think its definitely a Regent thing. None of the rest of us seem to manifest magical friend-summoning fields that call weirdly attractive and also nice and also knowledgeable friends to flock to them like they’re some kind of magnetic north. Which is a physics thing, that my new friend Victor Stone taught me.

I’m just saying, I go out to get dinner for the bunch of us, all I come home with is dinner. Dick goes out to do the same, and he comes home with first an Atlantean, then a Themysciran, and then a Wally, and still no dinner. And even West, for all his.....West-ness, is descended from a hummingbird Regent and thus possessed of innate magic coloring his personal association with time, so he’s not totally useless even if he does a great impersonation of useless ninety percent of the time. And thus doesn’t exactly disprove what I’m getting at here.

One of these days, he’s gonna wander in like “hey everyone, come meet my new best friend, she seems completely normal and boring but that just means she’s probably Mother Sky herself in disguise for some absurd reason. Nothing about this has anything to do with me or how sexy my stupid face is.”

And shut up, that still doesn’t mean I’m in love with him, I just have eyes and I use them, that’s it.

Anyway, this time Dick brought home my new best friend who is Vic and thus I shall magnanimously let it go and not make a big deal out of it, for reasons that as you can see, have nothing to do with anyone’s face, no matter how stupidly sexy it might be.

So! Physics!

Most of it seems to be just unnecessarily complicated ways of saying things everybody already knows, so, basically what I always claimed it was despite baselessly having no real way of knowing this. Hah! Validation to me.

But some of it happens to be ways of saying things that might already be known, but are here put forth in ways they aren’t usually spoken of or pictured as, and thus spark new thoughts and ideas. And thus there does appear to be some merit to some of it, which is not validating in and of itself, but is inspiring, so I’m calling it a lateral move and counting it as still being a point for me.

(Look I may not know how or why or when, but one day, these points will come in handy and mean something, I just know it.)

Anyway, so there I was with my new friend Vic discussing abstracts theories of physics like the learned intellectuals that we are, just us, nobody else, shut up Garth, go eat a fish, nobody asked you.....

When Vic says something about force equaling velocity times mass. And I sat up and said wait, what was that thing you were saying a minute ago about velocity equaling.....and Vic says velocity equals distance over time? And I snap my fingers and go that’s it, that’s the very one. Vic, you beautiful balding genius, you’ve done it again!

Wait, what have I done again, Vic asks, and also how, we’ve literally only known each other twelve hours, and I explain to him all about my uncanny intuition and valid predictions of the future meaning that this is obviously just the first of many fruitful collaborations and thus totally counts, all while I busily make sketches and do math.

Because its occurred to me, see, that for centuries archers have used distance magics to shorten or extend the amount of space an arrow covers in flight, for a variety of purposes that still ultimately just revolve around accuracy or distance simply as an obstacle to be overcome.....but what if distance is treated not as the focal point for which an arrow is feathercrafted, but rather simply a means to an end that otherwise has aims other than just crossing distance?

Basically, as I explained while setting up a target of considerable durability and a small crossbow bolt fletched just with sparrow-craftings....what if distance magic is utilized not for the distance, but solely to magnify the force that results from how much - or how little - a distance it crosses over time?

And then from thirty paces away, I smashed a tiny crossbow bolt through the target with as much force as if I had fired that same bolt from a mere two paces away. The boom was quite satisfying. Also the validation. Again, that’s always just nice.

And then I modified another crossbow bolt with a mix of sparrow and hummingbird to increase that rate of velocity even further, and I did it again, to an even bigger boom.

Which means, notes and future fans alike, I may not have quite cracked the code of fractional but reliable increments of magical implementation just yet, but I now have more material to work with....because as I already suspected due to my awareness of their link via continuum, but hadn’t quite yet put a specific named connection to myself, distance over time equaling not just velocity but the key to time-lapsed magical effects means its not just hummingbird and crane feathers that could make all the difference there, but also sea gull and sparrow.

Force multipliers, Vic named our breakthrough. Or said was already the name for them. Hard to say, my ears were still ringing, but I err on the side of whichever gives us credit.

Either way, its a great name.

******

Vic and I have been experimenting with triple-compounding the effects of three different feathercrafted fletchings per arrow. Or tri-parting as I’ve been calling it. Try-harding, Dick calls that. I kicked him out of the workshop after that. I will not be disrespected within my own personal space like that, not even by his stupid sexy face. Besides, I can still see it well enough from through the window, so its fine.

Anyway, the triple threat combinations. At the base of it all lies a lot of trial and error with different manipulations of time and space, ie our force multipliers. So first, we started working with just those, to see what else we might be missing or overlooking in regards to these base-layer feathers that have had all kinds of other uses just lurking right under peoples’ noses for millennia.

Its not like they aren’t used for plenty already, of course. Take hummingbird-fletched crossbow bolts for starters. Plenty of archers throughout civilization have utilized them in conjunction with bolts tipped in different sedatives or poisons. Shoot a bolt at someone from close enough away that its magic isn’t consumed entirely in flight, and the temporal acceleration effects of the hummingbird magic then exert themselves upon the next nearest thing....the poison or sedative coating the bolt, which from there spread through the bloodstream of the person it impacts....now at a magically expedited rate of time. Similarly, plenty of assassins have used bolts or arrows coated in poison and fletched with crane.....to extend the effects of poison and whatnot upon the person shot with one.

Same thing with combinations of two types of craftings, both of which are known to default to exerting themselves on the same thing: arrow’s flight or arrow’s impact. Obviously we’re not reinventing the wheel with something like combining crane and canary, with both magics working in conjunction on the same things at the same time.....thus extending both the flight and the magical effect in-flight of a canary crafting’s ear-splitting shriek.

So its not as though we were expecting to uncover a lot more along the way to what we were really looking to explore, just us doing our due diligence until that point. And in no way were we delaying our experimentation out of nervousness that this wasn’t the long-sought next step in my lifelong pursuit of Science-Magic: The Roy Harper Way, and worrying that this theory like so many others would simply fizzle into failure. No. Don’t be dumb. That absolutely wasn’t a thing here.

So was the real hold-up all along just us stalling and killing time until Donna left on mysterious Themysciran missions because the night before she’d looked at us theorizing excitedly and decided to douse that flame by sighing and saying, ‘you’re going to blow up the house’? To which we naturally replied ‘don’t be daft, we’re not going to blow up the house.’ And to which she replied ‘oh yeah, you’re totally going to blow up the house’? Were we basically just tarrying and occupying ourselves with lesser experiments of no real value until she was gone like the ill omen she insists on being and that we simply refuse to see proven right? At least not when she’s around to witness it?

Right, so...yes. It was definitely that last one. That was literally the entire reason.

Look, if you’d ever had Donna sighing and despairingly shaking her head while listing totally understandable reasons why you shouldn’t do the thing that you were still going to do regardless because well, duh, you had to, obviously.......you’d understand.

The point being, the second she was out the door we quit wasting time with that load of crap, and brought out the real toys. Or....test subject....thingies ...prototypes! That’s it, that’s the word.

So first off, we started with the combination hummingbird plus sparrow plus shrike feather craftings. Shrikes, of course, being the magic of bindings and battles, and with the Shrike Regent being Boone, some sort of love-hate friend-nemesis of Dick’s past that he refused to ever elaborate on, no matter how much ranting he did on the subject of the man when he came up even tangentially. This of course, was our first real mistake. This was about the time when I kicked Dick out of the workshop, the timing here being a total coincidence, even if I did happen to mutter in passing that if he love-hates the guy so much he should just marry him already. Or kill him. Whichever. Preferably the killing thing though.

Unfortunately, adding insult to injury, or potentially injury to West if he interrupted us one more time, the shrike combos were getting us nowhere. Like the true friend he is, and sensing my dwindling mood and also its corresponding effects on West’s future, Vic suggested we switch gears and try combining just time-craftings with dove and something else.

Which is what brought us to the hummingbird-dove-kingfisher combo, and our first real success.

You see, as I’ve mentioned before, tanager-fletched arrows aren’t anything new....they’ve been used as incendiaries for thousands of years....but the why of it, with Vic’s additional physics insight, brought up some interesting theories. Same with the way dove-fletched arrows had been used for their electrifying properties for ages.

The reason dove-fletched arrows carry the properties they do, as he explained it, is that by channeling the electromagnetic force embodied by the Dove Regent - specifically, the propagation or amplifying side of that spectrum - its like the arrowhead becomes a magnet drawing electrical impulses to it out of the air it passes through. The whole atmosphere contains what he calls ionized particles, which is not apparently, the same thing as baby lightning. Even if its really just the potential for lightning, and thus totally fits in my opinion. But what our eyes perceive as simply an arrow slicing through empty air, in terms both scientific and magical, in another sense the arrow is swimming through a sea of ionized potential, collecting some of that to itself along the way, and delivering the totality of that through its arrowhead upon point of impact.

What tanager-fletched arrows do is apparently not hugely different in theory, even if it does tap into different physical properties. Essentially, tanager feathers, embodying the amplifying side of the thermodynamics spectrum, act upon the combustibility of oxygen, which is all around us in the air we breathe. Oh, also, the air is just fire waiting for a big enough match, apparently. That was good to know. So again, two different forces, two different kinds of particles which are not the same thing as molecules except when they are, and actually, what happens when dove arrows do what they do is only a little bit like what happens when tanager arrows do what they do, but still mostly not at all the same, even if they do happen to sound totally the same but whatever Victor....anyway, the point is physics is great and useful but also at the same time totally confusing and annoying, but what happens when you combine all this information with my contribution that is the keen scientific observation that the lower in the Deck will always act upon the higher in the Deck?

Something actually useful, not that I’m trying to rub it in or anything.

But the way I understood it, if the combustibility of a tanager arrow comes from how much and how combustible the oxygen it draws to it is, upon striking a target and delivering the additional magical spark of a tanager-crafting....and if the electrical impact that results from a dove arrow comes from the nature of a dove arrow to draw enough particles to it in abundance, with the combination of tanager and dove meaning its the latter that will exert itself on the former....the end result is you’re going to get a super-combustible arrow, instead of merely a combustible one.

And the drawback of an incendiary arrow, as any archer knows, is that it can only do so much. Firing an arrow that will burst into flame upon impact is all well and good....but if the place of impact is largely wet and incombustible, that first flicker is still going to die out before ever becoming more. But if that first burst is more than just a mere flicker....and if its immediately fanned and fed and magically fueled by say, the existence of a third crafted fletching, that of a kingfisher, whose magic by nature creates more.....

Well, apparently muddy beaches go up quite nicely when lit by an arrow of this variety. Particularly if you then follow it up by a swift volley of kingfisher arrows aimed purely at magnifying the resulting fire itself.

I might have gotten a bit carried away with the fire-lit cackling with which I celebrated our success, but on the other hand, I made West wet his pants, so. Worth it.

*******

Bit of a rough-weather atmosphere in our house this past week, as apparently the rocks I set on fire with our little tanager-fletching experiments happened to be Garth’s favorite rocks, and he’s a bit perturbed with me as a result. Nobody seems to care, no matter how often I point it out, that its just weird to have favorite rocks, and who even does that, because Garth that’s who and I guess I was supposed to somehow just....know this?

Anyway, it was ‘advised’ emphasis on my skeptical assessment of that last word there, that I avoid fire in my experiments for the time being. Which is fine by me.

On to....magical ice arrows!

Now ice isn’t a force, its not a thing that you can make more of like fire, as I explained to Dick and Wally earlier. Its the reduction side of thermodynamics, the less than....essentially, you don’t so much make ice as you do...remove heat. Thus a tern-fletched arrow isn’t really a frost arrow, its more accurately, a heat sink.

They didn’t need to know that it was basically Vic that explained it all that way to me about an hour or so earlier. Besides, the heat sink bit was all my addition, and that was the really important part, clearly.

What was mostly of interest to me here, was its prospects in magically replicating what happens when you get metal cold enough, fast enough. Which brought me to the hummingbird-tern feather crossbow bolt combo, two parts tern feathers and only one hummingbird feather as a modifier. What I was after was double the heat-sink properties of tern magic, sped up by a hummingbird-crafting.

It mostly worked.

The tern feathers drew in heat well enough, and the hummingbird-crafting sped up the process enough that more cracks would have spread through the metal the bolt was embedded in....if the bolt had.....actually embedded itself into the metal. I’m pretty sure, anyway.

It was the damn force side of the equation that was still getting in my way. Even when I did get a bolt to sink home in something that was already brittle enough to lodge into even if it couldn’t penetrate all the way through on its own, the force still was lacking without magical amplification. But there was no fletching I could add to magically modify the force of the bolt itself that wouldn’t also exert itself elsewhere, even upon just the hummingbird feather. I even tried adding a sea-gull feather and then firing the bolt from merely a foot away, trying to maximize the force without using up the distance modifier during actual flight time, and that was the biggest find of the day and it was a total accident as I realized two seconds after firing it that I was supposed to be trying to amplify the force by reducing the distance, and thus I meant to use a sparrow fletching, not a sea gull!

But then what actually happened is my crossbow bolt embedded itself and ended up magically making enough more space for me to follow up with two more bolts, and then the combination of multiple bolts all drawing heat from around them at a magically enhanced rate led to the whole thing growing brittle with cracks all the way through it, which.....was not at all what I was going for but was still useful to know, so, I’m calling it a win. It counts.

Look, it just does, okay? You’re my notes, I’m not supposed to feel judged by you. You’re doing this all wrong.

******

Dick brought home a new friend today, named Kory. She seemed like a perfectly, nice ordinary girl at first glance. Then she took off an illusion-casting crow mask and revealed she’s actually a seven foot tall, golden skinned, ‘battle priestess of X’Hal,’ whatever that means, but the rest of all that sounds about normal.

Oh and also, what that means apparently is she’s from a whole other world and she voyaged here in a ship that apparently travels between stars which is a thing that can happen, and also she has green-glowing eyes but that’s just because she can make magic green fire that can burn through anything, no big deal. Also, she can fly. Also, also, did I mention she’s a princess? Because duh, of course she’s a princess, why wouldn’t she be a princess, haha you sound so dumb right now.

Dick’s eyes glazed over and he stopped paying attention at “she can fly.” Not that I noticed. Or cared.

Anyway, apparently ships that can travel between stars being a thing that can happen is not actually the new information that I thought it was, as then Garth tried to insist that he’d totally mentioned that before which umm, lie. I definitely mentioned it before, he said, like a liar, and I think I would have remembered if you had, I said because hello, and then Donna said she and Garth had always been clear about Atlanteans and Themyscirans originally coming from worlds other than this one and okay fine but nobody ever said that involved ships that fly between stars I said. But of course its not like I had anyone to back me up on that because Dick was too busy trying to marry Kory with his eyes which will probably even work because obviously his eyes are very marriage material everyone knows that and West was busy being West so its not like he counts, and in conclusion, all my friends are either aliens and/or assholes. Except for Vic, who did say he’d run away with me and get married, but I’m pretty sure he was just humoring me. He wasn’t even drunk.

Whatever. The big takeaway here is that clearly I am like, this close to unraveling the mysteries of all magic everywhere and that’s why Mother Sky has decided to be mean to me, because she is threatened and also, like. Just mean.

*****

Turns out Kory’s actually a lovely person. So I guess I just can’t have anything, huh?

****

Also none of this still has anything to do with being in love with Dick, which I’m not, because obviously, and Wally’s still wrong about everything, because also obviously. And if he doesn’t shut up, I’m going to make a magical Wally-smiting arrow just for him. I don’t totally know what its going to do yet, but just see if I don’t!

*****

So over dinner last night, Kory was telling us all a bit about Tamaranean magic and how it works and what being a battle-priestess of X’Hal means.

So on her world, its told, their creator goddess X’Hal created everything out of herself, and so is herself in everything. With there being some kind of corresponding connection between the emotional or spiritual side of things, and the physical or material. And Tamaraneans have a periodic table that’s actually all about emotions rather than physical elements, and their magic is called spirit-alchemy and its about manipulating the elements or physical world by being in control of their corresponding emotions?

I don’t think I’m explaining it right. Okay, so basically, the way Kory described it is everything on their world was created by X’Hal, like, feeling a specific thing. From her passion, X’Hal created fire. From her hope, light. From her joy, weightlessness. And all the way up and down the material and elemental plane. So when she refers to the thousand names of X’Hal, its because of the whole “X’Hal�� is in everything idea, and thus when speaking of each of those things, one’s also speaking of X’Hal.

But where the magic part of things comes in, is if like Kory, you train from a very young age to be what’s called a priest-adept. Or priestess. You get it. But the idea is all things are part of X’Hal and she’s in all things, and her people, the Tamaraneans, are all like X’Hal....enough so that they can manipulate parts of the world around them, wholly by manipulating the parts of themselves that are...spiritually resonant with those things, I guess.

So with Kory, the reason she can fly, and glow, and create soulfire which is what she calls the green glowing fire she makes that can blast through anything.....all of this derives from her spending most of her lifetime training to have a total mastery of three specific mental and emotional states. The ones that, in reflection of X’Hal, correspond with fire, light and weightlessness. By mastering her passions, broad sense of the word, she manifests soulfire which she creates much like X’Hal created...fire fire. Via her own mastery of and understanding of hope - not totally sure what that all entails, but that’s the connection - she similarly is able to manifest light, and her flight and weightlessness come from her control and knowledge of her own joy, for just...herself, life, everything. The battle-priestess bit is just her own kind of vocational calling rather than a specific group, but her magic only works because her own mastery of self is so extensive that she’s able to find even the joy in battle, the passion in fighting, the hope for victory, that let her still tap into the specific emotions that lend her this magic, even while in the midst of fighting for her life.

Obviously what she’s talking about is easier said than done, and the Tamaranean idea of self-control goes a fair bit deeper than get up and take a lap when someone, not naming names, says something particularly dumb.....but from the sounds of it she’s kind of a big deal back on her homeworld not even for the princess thing so much as for having mastery of three different states, no matter how connected. Like a lot of people spend their whole lives attempting to master just one, and she just happened to be adept level at three already.

I asked if anyone’s ever mastered all thousand, which apparently was a really funny joke, so looks like I’m hilarious in Tamaranean, but seems that’s not really a thing. “We’re like X’Hal,” was how Kory put it. “But only X’Hal can be X’Hal.”

Which does make sense, when you put it like that.

**************

Okay, so I was just picking Kory’s brain about spirit-alchemy a little more, specifically about her super-strength and where that comes from, since I thought joy, passion and hope were her three focuses. Except she didn’t know what I was talking about first, as she said that wasn’t one of her powers. Except I know for a fact that I saw her punch through a solid stone wall once, and said as much, and then she was just oh, that’s just part of my mastery of joy.

Which needed a little more clarification than that, because....what.

Basically though, it sounds like their emotional table is a lot like the spectrums between two opposing Regents throughout our Deck. Like a lot of what they work on mastery of is as much the absence of its opposite side as it is something in and of itself. Apathy is the opposite of passion, the negation of soulfire, but its not something someone seeks to master, so much as its an extension of their mastery of passion. After all, if one summons a form of passion within themselves in order to create soulfire, then by banishing the soulfire, even if just because they no longer have use for it, isn’t that and the emotional equilibrium that results in that....isn’t that effectively apathy? Same thing with hope....just because the goal of mastering that wasn’t to create an absence of light, that doesn’t mean that being able to put out the light she herself creates isn’t still connected to that emotional field and something requiring her awareness of it.

Which brings us to weightlessness. Her flight is a manifestation of joy, even when using it in battle, but utilizing it most effectively, as in changing elevations rapidly and with precision, often requires the inverse just as much as creating weightlessness for herself in the first place. So her control of self has to be so absolute that she can be a thousand feet in the air and then just let herself plummet, carrying with her all the force that entails, and only at a hundred feet in the air summoning her inner joy and using spirit-alchemy to instantly transmute that into the weightlessness that once again keeps her aloft but now at that new, lower elevation.

But the point being.....up until that last split second when she comes out of a dive and re-engages her magical weightlessness.....she and any strike she’s delivering, contain the full force its opposite.

Not at all unlike how you could describe swan and ostrich craftings.

So that’s when Vic and I just looked at each other and yelled: Force multipliers!

Forget time and distance modifiers, its the mass! The key is the mass! The propagation side of gravity even if applied not to go up or down because the gravitational force is only being applied magically, to modify other forces, not the physical mass of the arrow itself! This is it! This is the key!

Our first attempt put a crossbow bolt through an inch of solid steel. Now just waiting on Vic to get back with all the hawk and dove and tern and tanager feathers we have, we’re so close I can taste it!

Ugh, if Dick doesn’t marry this beautiful alien warrior princess, I’ll marry her myself! Or both. I could just marry both of them I guess. I mean, its for science.

Okay, Vic’s here, will report on findings later!

******

So, we accidentally blew up the house. I don’t want to talk about it.

Still think I’m right though. Just needs fine-tuning.

Might wait a bit before I bring that up. No reason. Just seems the sort of thing that can wait until we find a new house.

#by lost ways

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anotherkpopvictim · 5 years ago

Text

When Insecurities Get the Best of You (We’ll Be There) - Namjoon X BTS Littlespace Drabble

(Gif Source: jinseas)

“anonymous asked: Hiii my favorite trope is joonie being insecure but ot6 comforting him and loving him hbnskskh i feel like i haven't read one of these in a while it'd be great if u wrote smth like that 👉🏼👈🏼”

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting this! I really liked the idea, and my last little!joon X caregiver!bts fic I wrote for Namjoon’s birthday was really well-liked so obviously others want to see this relationship again :)

So here it is! Enjoy!

Relationship: Little!Namjoon X Caregiver!BTS

Rating: G

Words: 4146

Hurt/comfort, fluff

PLEASE NOTE: This fic is a collection of short moments over the years when Namjoon felt insecure about himself and the others were there for him. Some moments were based on actual events that happened in real life, while others were completely made up. If it really happened, I will link the moment I based it on.

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As the leader of Bangtan, Namjoon was no stranger to being the unfortunate target of the brunt of embarrassment. He had taken a “class” of sorts back in the day, where he was taught exactly what it meant to be a leader. One of the main points that Namjoon spent a lot of time working on, was that a leader needed to be able to take charge when any public conflicts or awkwardness overwhelms the atmosphere of any concert, interview, or award speech. BTS had gone through their fair share of public humiliation, and it was Namjoon’s job to keep things stable and calm during those times.

Fortunately, Namjoon was really, really good at this. He’d been the one to keep Yoongi from punching that asshole B-Free in the face during that one interview near the beginning of their career that none of them would ever forget. He was the one that could seamlessly take over when any of the members got choked up at a particularly invasive question.

Namjoon was also extremely good at hiding the complicated slow burn that was the members’ romantic relationship.

It started out way back in the day with himself and Yoongi, who were both wound up from the frustrations of trainee life and frankly just horny teenagers. What began as helping each other get off every now and then developed into something more romantic as Hoseok, Jungkook and Seokjin were added to the group line up.

Then Namjoon and Yoongi became Namjoon and Yoongi and Seokjin and then as debut finally rolled around, Hoseok joined in as well. Hyung line’s relationship was confusing for a few years as they figured out the dynamics within it.

BTS’ debut also brought about the start of maknae line’s romantic relationship. The three youngest had been close since the day they’d met, but it remained platonic until the night of their debut stage, where the high of emotions made them braver and they shared tender kisses and cuddles between themselves.

Then the two separate relationships (hyung line and maknae line) began to blend together until it was one unit.

Throughout all of the developments of their relationship and even after, Namjoon constantly had to keep an eye on everyone when cameras were rolling. It was Taehyung and Jungkook that had the most difficult time holding back the lingering touches and stares and it hurt the leader that he needed to separate them so much, but it was necessary.

So, yes, Namjoon was an amazing leader, and though it wasn’t easy, he was able to put his own emotions on the back burner for his group - at least, most of the time.

Because he was human and he was far from perfect, he too had those moments where things were too overwhelming for him as well. The company could forget that sometimes, but never his members. His members were always there for him.

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

2013 (based on this moment at 1:05)

The first time Namjoon really felt incapable of handling a situation was shortly after their debut. Coincidentally, this was also the first time Namjoon ever fell into littlespace.

BTS was lucky enough to be able to perform not only the title track of their second album but also the special concept trailer performance that fans loved so much.

It started out great, the hype of the screaming crowd giving them all the confidence in their performing. It got to the point in the choreography where the back-up dancers helped pull off their outer shirts, leaving them all in white sleeveless shirts. They’d all rehearsed it a million times, but that, unfortunately, didn’t mean that it was seamless every time.

It took a moment for Namjoon to realize that both of his shirts had accidentally been ripped completely from his body, leaving his torso on display for all the people in the audience and millions through the television to see.

A numbing panic like no other went over Namjoon like a wave, his face draining of all blood beneath the bit of BB cream he had on. Then, like flicking a switch, his professional side that had been ingrained into his brain took over.

He finished off the performance while holding his shirt feebly against his exposed chest. Namjoon didn’t dare to look into the audiences’ eyes as he bowed and hurried from the stage.

The next few moments were a blur, but suddenly Namjoon found himself in their dressing room bathroom, leaning back against the closed and locked door. His breathing was coming harshly and his heartbeat was pounding in his ears so much that he could barely hear the knocking on the door behind him.

“Joonie,” came Seokjin’s comforting voice from the other side, soft and soothing. “Joonie, open the door for me, love.”

But Namjoon couldn’t. How could he open the door and reveal his weak state to the rest of his band members when he was supposed to be their fearless leader?

“Yoongi’s taken the maknaes and left for home early, so it’s just us now,” Hoseok said, making the leader aware of his presence outside the door as well. “Please, Namjoon-ah, let us in.”

With sudden desperation for comfort that he couldn’t explain, Namjoon got up and unlocked the door shakily. Jin and Hoseok came in and immediately pulled him into a tight embrace.

Namjoon felt overwhelmed with emotions - embarrassment and panic and shame being the most prominent. “H-Hyungs-” he choked out.

“Let it go, baby,” Jin encouraged, kissing the side of his head, “I know you want to cry and it’s not good to keep that all bottled up inside.”

“We’re right here, okay?” Hoseok added.

The confirmation of their support was enough for Namjoon to listen. He let the tears that he had been keeping at bay slip from his eyes and make trails down his cheeks. He heaved out a sob that was followed by another and another.

His two hyungs were there for him through his whole breakdown, holding him in their arms and whispering words of comfort into his ears.

“T-They all saw me,” Namjoon choked out, “They all saw my body. I didn’t want anyone to see me like that.”

“We know, love,” Hoseok replied, rubbing his hand soothingly up and down the leader’s arm. “It was an accident and we know it hurt you, baby.”

“J-Joonie embarrassed! Joonie don’t want fans to see his ugly tummy.”

The sudden change in the leader’s tone and his switch to speaking in third person gave his two hyungs pause for a moment and they shared a look of confusion between the two of them. Namjoon had never acted so...childish before.

Both of their minds were running a mile a minute, trying to register and adapt to this new situation.

“Namjoon-ah,” the eldest began slowly, pulling away from the other enough that he could look him in the eye, “You don’t have an ugly tummy, love. Your tummy is super cute.”

The younger glanced up timidly and looked at them with glossy eyes. “R-Really?”

Jin and Hoseok shared another look before the older returned his attention to Namjoon. Seokjin smiled gently, “Of course, Joon-ah.”

The leader slowly sat up a bit, “E-Even if Joonie doesn’t have abs?”

“Even if you don’t have abs,” Hoseok confirmed, his expression soft and fond. “Even if your skin was purple, even if you had an extra nose.”

That elicited a soft giggle out of the leader, quiet but there.

Hoseok and Seokjin felt unimaginable relief. It was hard to see their leader, their friend, their boyfriend, hurting so much.

Namjoon tossed his arms around both of their shoulders, “T-Thank you, hyungies.”

“Of course, baby.” Jin and Hoseok replied simultaneously before smiling at each other.

“Jinnie-hyungie?” Namjoon began rubbing at his drooping eyes with a fist, his lower lip pouting out cutely. “Tired.”

“Go ahead and sleep, love,” Seokjin said, adjusting Namjoon so the younger could rest his head on his shoulder. “We’ll carry you home, okay?”

“M’kay.”

Just as Hoseok finished closing all of their bags and slinging them over his shoulder, Jin appeared back in the dressing room from the bathroom with Namjoon curled around him like a koala. He looked much better than an hour ago as the oldest had gently cleaned the tears from his cheeks.

The two shared another smile and began making their way to the car waiting for them outside.

The car ride itself was uneventful other than the fond glances their manager gave them in the rearview mirror. Namjoon had shifted into Hoseok’s lap in the backseat and was attempting to curl up in a ball.

Once they’d returned to the dorm and Namjoon was tucked comfortably under the covers of his bunk bed, Hoseok and Jin snuck out from their shared bedroom and sat down together in the living room.

“So...” Hoseok began quietly, “Namjoon’s a little.”

“Namjoon’s a little,” Jin confirmed, “Can’t say I saw that one coming.”

Hoseok hummed in agreement, “This must have been the first time it happened because we both know Namjoon wouldn’t be able to keep something like this from us.”

I think so too,” Jin said, biting his lip in thought. “Should we tell the others?”

“We need to talk to Namjoon once he’s out of his headspace, I think it should be his choice.”

“Alright, but Hoseok?” the lead dancer locked eyes with his hyung’s fierce ones, “No matter what happens, we need to show Namjoon how much we love him, whether he’s in littlespace or not.”

Hoseok nodded firmly, “Always.”

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

2015

The leader of Bangtan had broken countless things over the years, whether it be objects or bones, having inherited his clumsiness from his mother. Meaningless things somehow breaking into pieces once his hands touched it, they were easier to get over, but sometimes Namjoon would cause damage to something important and he would have the overwhelming feeling of embarrassment take over him.

One such time was when Namjoon was with Yoongi in his studio, working hard on some songs that they hoped would be approved by their boss for the next album. Yoongi excused himself to go to the bathroom after having been staring at the computer screen for a good five hours.

Namjoon himself was fighting sleep, his eyes closing of their own accord and his head falling forward. He had a cup of hot coffee clutched in his hands (his fourth or fifth that night) that wasn’t really doing all that much to keep him awake anymore.

As he nodded off once more, his grip on the coffee unintentionally loosened. He felt the paper cup slip from his hands and his eyes shot open just in time to see it hit the top of the desk. The lid popped off and steaming coffee went flying everywhere, most notably all over a bunch of cords just to the side of Yoongi’s computer.

He heard a couple sizzling and popping sounds and then Namjoon watched in horror as Yoongi’s computer screen went black.

“No,” he whispered, suddenly much more awake than he was just a minute before. “No, no, no!” his voice got louder as his panic grew.

“Joon-ah?”

Namjoon’s head snapped towards the studio door, where Yoongi was standing, looking on with shock at the scene before him.

“I-I...I didn’t mean...”

Yoongi saw his friend’s slip into littlespace moments before it happened. He was at Namjoon’s side and pulling him into a comforting hug in a flash.

“It’s okay, Joonie,” he insisted, his voice soft. “It was an accident, baby. It’s okay.”

“B-But it’s gone! All hyungie’s hard work. Joonie so sorry.”

“I know you are, sweetheart,” Yoongi pulled back so he could look the younger in the eyes. “Accidents happen sometimes. Luckily, I backed up all my work last night, so I probably only lost what we worked on today.”

That didn’t really make Namjoon feel any better. In fact, it only made the guilt in his heart even heavier. The little’s eyes widened, “B-But hyungie has been working for long time! L-Like eight hours! Joonie made hyungie lose so much!” Namjoon’s shoulders sagged and he pouted down at the ground. “Joonie stupid. Joonie clumsy.”

“Hey now,” Yoongi tapped under Namjoon’s chin to get him to look at him again, “Don’t be calling yourself mean things. You’re not stupid, baby. A little clumsy maybe, but your clumsiness is cute.”

The younger perked up a bit, “Joonie cute?”

The cold-faced rapper let out a fond laugh, his eyes squinting shut for a moment as a gummy smile appeared on his face. “Yes, baby,” he replied through chuckles, “You’re the absolute cutest little one I’ve ever seen, yeah?” he leaned in a bit, “But don’t tell Jiminie that, okay? He’ll get jealous.”

The little still had tears in his eyes, but they had stopped falling. Namjoon let out a giggle, his adorable dimples that Yoongi loved so much showing themselves.

So, of course, no one could blame Yoongi when he poked at one of those dimples, which somehow led to a tickle fight on the couch, followed by a much-needed nap.

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

2016

Namjoon was overall pretty confident in himself - not in a cocky way, but a self-assured way. He knew he had a true talent for rapping and producing, not to mention his natural capability to mediate any bad situation. Even his dancing, though nowhere near Hoseok, Jimin or Jungkook’s ability, never seemed too bad.

The one thing about being an idol that really made Namjoon insecure was his singing voice. Hoseok and Yoongi also didn’t have the greatest singing voices in the group, but they had accepted that fact long ago, while Namjoon just couldn’t seem to bring himself to.

So to say that he was anxious about singing a verse on an actual album song would be an understatement. Bang PD had asked him to, and perhaps it should have been assuring for Namjoon to know that the big boss felt he was good enough to sing, he couldn’t get past his apprehensiveness.

Jimin and Taehyung accompanied him to the recording studio to meet their boss and a few other producers to begin recording. Both of them could easily tell that their hyung was nervous, though he tried his best to hide it from them.

Bang PD greeted the three of them brightly when they knocked on the recording studio’s door. “Right on time, boys. That’s what I like to see.”

“Of course, hyung-nim,” Namjoon replied, hoping that the smile on his face made up for the slight shakiness of his voice. “We’ll always do our best to be on time.”

The boss gave him a pat on the shoulder and then got right to business.

Taehyung and Jimin went in to record first, each able get their parts right without too much trouble. Namjoon tried not to be envious of the ease with which they sang, tried not to let the harsh insecurities swirling around in his head drown him.

“Namjoon-ah,” Bang PD said, gaining the leader’s attention immediately. “It’s your turn. You only have half a verse so it shouldn’t take too long. I know you’ll do well.”

The leader had to gulp against the lump growing in his throat. “Yes, sir.”

Namjoon entered the recording room and moved to stand in front of the microphone. It was funny, he had stood before this microphone countless times in the past, and yet, Namjoon had never been so terrified to approach it.

“Alright,” Bang PD’s voice came through the speaker, “Let’s start with just the first line.”

Namjoon nodded, feeling the familiar dampness of sweat beginning to form on his trembling hands. When the music started in his ears, he leaned forward and sang into the microphone.

He sounded terrible.

Even to his own ears, he was flat and sounded like an amateur.

He winced and bit his lip, eyes shutting in shame. “Sorry,” he blurted out before one of the producers could say anything. “Let me try that again.”

The second time was better, but not by much.

The producers were endlessly patient with him as they gave him direction and tips in an attempt to get the right sound out of him. It wasn’t working, that much was obviously clear after an hour with little progress.

Namjoon was fighting the panic rising up within him, his damp hands now clenched tightly into fists. He knew that it was his nerves getting to him, that he could sing the line just fine. He’d practiced enough to be sure of that, but of course, the one time it really mattered, he just couldn’t get it done.

“Are you okay, Namjoon?” Bang PD asked, genuine concern coloring his tone.

Namjoon found himself unable to answer, his tongue feeling like lead in his mouth.

He heard the door to the room opening and footsteps heading towards him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up.

First, he felt the touch of a hand on his arm and moved his gaze down to see Jimin’s small hand holding onto him. Then he looked up to meet Jimin’s gentle eyes and felt like he could get lost in them.

“Bang PD-nim said to take a fifteen-minute break,” Taehyung’s voice came from Namjoon’s other side, “They left to go get some lunch.”

The leader, even through his panicked haze, could understand the underlying meaning in the second youngest’s words. They were alone. Namjoon could break down if he wanted to.

“W-Why can’t I do it?!” he began, the words starting to pour out of him before he could stop them. “I was okay during practice. Why can’t I do it now?!”

“Hyung,” Jimin replied softly, “I think you’re just too nervous. It’s making your throat too tight and affecting your vocal cords.”

“I know,” Namjoon moaned, “I can’t help it.”

“Why are you so anxious, hyung?” Taehyung asked.

“Joonie isn’t a good singer! Joonie sounds bad!” Namjoon exclaimed, his tone getting higher in pitch as he fell into his headspace. The other two couldn’t say they hadn’t expected it. “ARMY will hate Joonie!”

“Agioo, that’s not true,” Jimin furrowed his eyebrows as his arms naturally wrapped themselves around his hyung’s shoulders. “I think your voice is very nice, love.”

“Me too,” Taehyung added, bopping the little’s nose, “Just because you might not be able to hit high notes or do a bunch of runs doesn’t mean that you’re a bad singer. And you’re really good at being on key, unlike some of the people that like to go to karaoke.”

Both Jimin and Namjoon huffed out a little laugh at that. It had become clear to everyone in the group that the easiest way to calm Namjoon down from his panic attacks was to tell the truth and add a bit of humor to keep the atmosphere light. They also made sure to never just sugar-coat their words.

Taehyung didn’t tell him that he was the best singer ever because that wasn’t the truth, but Namjoon certainly wasn’t a bad singer by any means either.

“You have to remember, Joonie,” Jimin said, “Bang PD-nim and the other producers think that you’re good enough to sing on an album song. Trust them on that, okay?”

Namjoon could feel himself calming down slowly but surely. He was still pretty far in littlespace, but his head felt clearer now. “Okay,” he nodded, taking their words to heart. “Joonie’s sorry he got scared.”

Taehyung waved it off, “Eh, we all get scared every now and then.”

Jimin and Taehyung spent the next ten minutes bringing Namjoon out of his headspace so he could record his lines when the producers returned. This meant they had to fight the urge to cuddle their hyung, which was difficult considering they were probably the two most cuddly members of their group.

When Namjoon went to try his lines once more, he kept his eyes on his two dongsaengs through the little window and sang to them. He was encouraged by the proud smiles on their faces and it helped him to relax enough to sing.

Bang PD was happy with the results and praised Namjoon once they finished an hour later, leaving the two ninety-five liner’s to finally take their hyung back to the dorm to cuddle.

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

2018 (based on this moment at 2:19)

When it happened, Namjoon couldn’t help but be brought back to that moment just after debut where something so similar had happened to him.

It was during a live performance of Fake Love that Namjoon’s innate knack for breaking everything he touches showed itself once more.

Yoongi started his verse and the six behind him began their chain dance. When Namjoon reached over to Jungkook and put his hand on his chest as the choreography went, he gripped the material too hard and was unable to release his hold before he jerked away in the next dance move.

Just like it had when it happened to Namjoon five years earlier, the leader watched in almost slow motion as the top three buttons of Jungkook’s shirt ripped off completely. The maknae’s chest was left exposed.

Namjoon saw Jungkook’s eyes widen in panic momentarily as he registered what had happened before the maknae regained his professional composure.

The rest of the performance was a blur to the leader, who couldn’t stop the insistent replaying of the panic he’d seen in Jungkook’s eyes. It had been the exact look that he’d had in his own eyes all those years ago.

Before he knew it, they were back at their dorm and someone was calling out his name.

Namjoon blinked and forced himself back into reality. He was in his bedroom now, sitting on the edge of his bed. Jungkook was sat beside him, eyeing him with a worried furrow in his brow.

“Hyung, are you okay?” he asked.

Namjoon took in a deep breath, trying (and failing) to will his anxiety away. “I’m so sorry, Jungkook.” he blurted before he could stop himself. “I’m so sorry about ripping your shirt earlier, it was an accident.”

“Oh, that’s alright, hyung,” Jungkook replied, his eyes softening. “I know you didn’t mean to do that.”

“B-But...” Namjoon stuttered, his voice quivering along with his lower lip. “But...”

Jungkook saw his leader’s slip into littlespace before it happened, so he pulled the older into his lap and wrapped his arms around him comfortingly. “I won’t lie, it made me nervous for a moment -” Namjoon whined and hugged Jungkook close to him, burying his face in the maknae’s neck, “- but it’s okay. Accidents happen, yeah love? Don’t worry about it anymore, I’m okay.”

“P-Promise?”

Jungkook guided the little’s head away from his neck and then held up his hand, his pinkie finger pointed out. “Pinkie promise.”

Namjoon linked their pinkies together and felt a wave of relief go over him. “Sorry Joonie so clumsy.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Jungkook shook his head, “We all love clumsy Joonie, okay?And we’ll tell you that as many times as it takes for you to believe it.”

“Okay.”

“Now,” the maknae said, “How about the two of us go gather everyone up and we can have a sleepover tonight?”

Namjoon’s eyes lit up in excitement and he hurried to scramble off Jungkook’s lap, nearly falling into the corner of the bedside table in his haste.

The maknae caught him before it could happen, thankfully, and shook his head fondly. “Careful, love.”

Namjoon probably didn’t hear it, however, as he was already halfway out the door and screaming to the rest of the house their new plans for the night.

...

“Why do we always do this? It’s such a bad idea.”

“Stop being a party pooper, Yoongi-hyung. You know you love the cuddle pile.”

“But we don’t even all fit properly on here.”

“Shh!”

The bickering between Yoongi and Hoseok was brought to an abrupt halt when four of the other members squished together in bed with them quieted them harshly.

“Enough you two,” Jin said, his voice low, “Namjoonie’s sleeping and we don’t want to wake him up.”

“Yeah, I’m trying to take pictures,” Jimin added, body positioned awkwardly so he could get his phone to properly face the little curled up in the middle of them.

Namjoon was dressed in his blue dinosaur onesie and had a rainbow tie-dye pacifier between his lips. He looked so content pressed between his members, the hand not under his head clutching at Jungkook’s t-shirt as he mumbled a little in his sleep.

“Send those to me,” Taehyung croaked, half-asleep on the other side of Jungkook as he glanced over at Jimin snapping a few too many pictures.

“Me too!”

“Me three!”

“Me four!”

“...��

Jimin rolled his eyes and turned to the one member who hadn’t said anything yet. “Yoongi-hyung, you don’t want the pictures?”

The eldest rapper grumbled under his breath.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said they’d better be of the highest quality!”

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

A/N: So this one was focused more on when littlespace comes into play for Namjoon when he’s insecure, of course, so there weren’t many littlespace activities like I usually have. I hope that this was okay still, let me know!

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xufengjia7 · 5 years ago

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botls · 6 years ago

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seeing hadestown 9/29/19 - part two

under the cut is my take on act two of hadestown after seeing it. i didnt really do a play by play of what’s happening in every scene so this is kind of assuming that you have some previous knowledge of the show and focuses on on the cast and the little things they were doing. part 1 here. meeting the cast. meeting tlt cast. if you have more questions or are curious about anything else PLEASE come and ask me in my inbox or messages i could talk about this show for the rest of my life

our lady of the underground:

the workers weren’t there - it was just persephone and hermes which was really cool

not sure if that was a new thing or a temp thing or something i was supposed to know but yeah i thought the workers were usually there

amber is obviously captivating in this song

she comes in arm and arm with hermes and then she like tries kissing him and he makes a disgusted face at her and walks away so she chases him while shimmying

she gives him her flask and he gives her her bouquet from the beginning in return and he smells the flask and violently leans back with a disgusted face it was so funny

i forgot what she did that made me laugh but when she said “you want stars?” i remember laughing so loud at something she did rip i think it might have just been the way she said it paired with throwing her arms up but i sadly don’t remember

way down(reprise):

when eurydice said “hi i’m eurydice” eva’s mic cut out just for that one line so then when she was like “doesn’t anybody hear me?” her mic was back on i was like lmfao no, nobody CAN hear you it was such perfect timing tbh

at one point she tries to get to the fates at the front and she tries shoving past some workers and they move out of her way in like. slow motion it’s sad

when she tries to go back the workers are forming a line that blocks her

flowers:

legitimately the saddest thing to ever happen to me ever in my whole life ever

i was very sad

very sad

eva’s voice was so soft and beautiful

the “choreo” was so impactful but simple but also super coordinated you could tell it was all very purposeful

what she does with her hands during the “i remember someone” part is so sad and soft but hard to put into words

you could tell that her crying was just eva genuinely sobbing

the workers are all laying on the stage/platform behind her while she sings and they look like they’re sleeping/resting

come home with me reprise:

THE SOFTEST EVERRRRRR

reeve hauls ass through the aisle like i was trying to look for him but he seriously came out of nowhere and bounded down the aisle so fast

i squealed when orpheus picked up eurydice and spun her i knew it was coming but it was too tender and soft for my heart to handle

when she’s like “you heard” the way he said “no” was so matter of fact and he smiled like such a little shit and everyone laughed

their hugs uwu they hug so much

when he spins her around please 🥺

papers:

it was perfectly done

when he said “i’m not going back alone” he stepped forward towards hades and the when he said “i came to take her home” he pointed at eurydice and it turned into a grab hug

he is so sad at the end omfg

during the instrumental is when his cuts and dirt really become obvious bc it seems like the workers are targeting those spots

at one point orpheus is up on the center platform stairs and he throws himself off and timothy catches him like a one man crowd surf situation it was actually funny if it was heartbreaking

nothing changes:

it really seemed like orpheus was going to give up

he was clutching an imaginary injury on his side and breathing so heavily and he seriously looked defeated

i knew what was going to happen and i was still like PLEASEEE don’t give up bb

if it’s true:

magic

pure magic

the vocals had me crying

orpheus is so defeated at the beginning and eurydice is on the work line but she isn’t doing anything but just as she starts working again at a slow pace the other workers start singing and she looks around in amazement

persephone is on the side the whole time watching in awe and disbelief

when the workers really start standing and getting into it eurydice is the last to join them because she literally is in shock and can’t believe it

the workers slowly left the line and were facing the audience and breaking the mold

when they’re all really singing eurydice seriously just can’t believe it she smiles so wide at the audience and covers her hand with her mouth

how long:

not to be repetitive but excellent choreo once again

it’s relatively simple but impactful

i don’t have too much to say bc it was obviously fantastic vocally but if you’ve seen the london boot there wasn’t anything they were really doing much differently (not in a bad way like. they were Great)

chant reprise:

when they come back up singing “if it’s true” they look like a little group of kids scheming to steal cookies or something lmao

when eurydice has to go back to work orpheus holds her hand until the last second uwus

the hades/persephone/orpheus/eurydice placement was perfect and very similar to london if you’ve seen the boot

hard to describe but very well planned

orphydice sounded SO GOOD during during their solo “could i change the way it is?” and they were staring at each other my hearttt

the light. you know the light. it was so fucking bright. i haven’t seen properly since.

everyone on stage was covering their eyes except orpheus who did it like three minutes late

epic 3:

orpheus was So Nervous

after hades says “oh it’s about me” he jumps back from the mic and turns terrified to hermes who ofc just says his classic “go on”

right from “he was like me: a man in love with a woman” he stares at eurydice for pretty much the rest of the song until the spinny lifty part it’s so soft

hades was so betrayed when the workers started singing

and he was furious when he was caught in the middle with orpheus

eva’s placement during this song is very nice. she spends a lot of it behind orpheus during the turning part and it kind of looks like she’s standing behind him as support

the dance is everything you want it to be

so soft and persephone is so fucking excited to be dancing like you can’t just tell she is JUMPING out of her skin excited

eurydice and orpheus keep looking at each other like they can’t believe it’s happening

promises:

when eurydice says “we’ll just go back the way you came” she points back at the aisle he came from originally but it’s kind of funny lmao bc it’s just people there but they both stare like it’s this magical destination

when she says “look at him—he can’t say no” she runs right up to hades and points in his face but he’s too caught up in persephone to even realize

they are so soft like. their little touches give me Life

eurydice sings to the workers and grabs all of their hands while she sings “i don’t know where this road will end, but i’ll walk it with you hand in hand” and it is so very sweet and soft

and when orpheus is on his knees and says “will you let me walk with you” and she turns around and says “i do” the workers all put their hands on their hearts and look at each other like a group of stereotypical teenage girls watching their friend and her bf lmao

word to the wise:

the second hades says “i don’t know” persephone goes from having been hugging him for the past ten minutes to hurling herself to the other side of the stage in two seconds flat

the fates are essentially making fun of orpheus in their gestures and faces and pointing but he’s hugging eurydice who was had her back to the audience but was shaking her head and then you see him nodding and reassuring her

his kiss the riot:

usually not my cup of tea tbh i mostly skip it bc i only enjoy some parts of it mainly the instrumentals but live changed that so much

it was so dramatic and it looked like hades and hermes were having a bro on bro chat

but seriously patrick page had me captivated he did phenomenal

wait for me reprise:

if you aren’t the wait for me reprise don’t talk to me

when hermes says that hades said they could go orphydice is literally already on the other side of the stage trying to leave before he even gets the next line out

when hermes tells them the conditions eurydice steps forward to stare up/at the audience and orpheus stays on the side staring at hermes in the center

when hermes says “do you trust each other?” eurydice still keeps staring but orpheus nods furiously and then he says “do you trust yourselves” and they turn to each other and say “we do”

orphydice is standing next to each other and staring at the audience for the beginning both with very emotional looking faces (although it was getting hard to see through my tears ahsgsjsks)

orphydice is standing in the middle holding hands and then hades and persephone each step forward and grab hands too with the guys and girls each on one side in a fantastic parallel and then all of a sudden when orpheus and eurydice drop hands persephone and hades still hold hands but they switch around so quick so that persephone is next to orpheus and hades is next to eurydice and it was disgustingly symbolic and gutting for me

hades and orpheus shake hands and eurydice and i shook our heads no at the same time

the vocals. the vocals guys.

after watching that youtube video of eva’s part in the song that’s on a loop for over an hour more times than i can count seeing it live was ethereal for me

i couldn’t believe it

i was crying so much but i was also fucking smiling because i was in such awe

when eva jumps so does reeve

eva noblezada is the only person that has rights tbh

doubt comes in:

so we all been knew about the lighting in this song is the most excellent ever

there are a lot of times where not even the audience sees eurydice or you see moving in the darkness but you don’t know if it’s eurydice or a fate or a worker

the drums are much louder and more prominent than in the soundtrack so the steady pounding is MUCH more intense and jarring

when the fates are taunting orpheus he puts his hands over his ears and is super tense and as eurydice sings her first verse he slowly takes them off his ears and relaxes

after her second verse he takes his hands off his ears but stays tense. that’s when i knew i was done for.

for the second half of the song there aren’t as many parts where eurydice is shadowed - making it clear to viewers that she’s there but not to orpheus

at one part in the beginning when she’s right behind him orpheus turns to the audience and eurydice JUMPS back so he won’t see her big ouch

the second i saw the steps light up i was like fuck this i cant

when orpheus comes off the platform to kneel next to the sinking stage him and eurydice fall to their knees at the same time so right when he gets to her she falls faster

the look of agony on her face stepped on my heart and spit in my face

right after there was a lot of whispering and i heard one person in the section next to me whisper “i can’t fucking believe this. i cant do this today”

road to hell 2:

look up pain in the dictionary and it’s this

i was sobbing the whole time

we all know how it goes with this one

after hermes said “to know how it ends and still begin to sing it again - as if it might turn out this time” someone in the theater was like “mmmm mmHHHMMM” like in a “preach” way

when eurydice came out again with her candle and flower the theater was Shook i felt it

i just kept crying and shaking my head no tbh this whole day is a blur but this part specifically is a fever dream

amber and eva’s parts in this song gave birth to me and they were even more majestic live

eva’s voice is the first wonder of the world i swear

we raise our cups:

it’s called Sadness luv

but amber and eva sounded great

everyone looked sad and somber except reeve who was so smiley and proud lmao

when they were passing out the cups andre didn’t get one at first and he put out his arms like “hello????”

it really was gorgeous live everyone’s voices sounded lovely it was just so so so so so so so so sad

and then it was over and i was like Wut The Fuc

#the time i saw hadestown #hadestown #fav #mine

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xathia-89 · 6 years ago

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Long Lost Sibling - Mitsunari

My parents had often despaired at my nature. I was usually referred to as someone who had the most innocent of personalities and would be taken advantage of if I wasn’t careful. It wasn’t unusual to find me in a library surrounded by books. I couldn’t pen them, but I was excellent at reviewing them and figuring out what would capture the minds and imaginations of any audience. I was usually the person who my publishing house would send out to review works of new authors and any big names who were looking at changing publishers since I would know what would suit our branding. I was sat in the middle of a garden in Kyoto when I ended up in the Sengoku and had saved Nobunaga Oda from the fire that was meant to kill him.

The resemblance between myself and Mitsunari was incredible, we both had the same silver hair (and stubborn flyaway locks) and amethyst eyes, never mind getting onto our personalities. Hideyoshi despaired at the time he had sent me into the library to find his vassal, only to follow a couple of hours later then, and find us both immersed deep in books. Neither of us were able to hear him until the items had been physically removed from our hands, and we were surprised to learn that hours had passed since my arrival. I found the vassal to Hideyoshi such a pleasure to talk to, and would often forget he was as much of a warlord as the other men in the castle.

“Didn’t you have a younger sister who disappeared when she was six?” Hideyoshi was frowning over something as I was about to turn the corner. “Natsuki does bear a frighteningly similar resemblance to you, including how she acts,” Toyotomi explained.

“I doubt it’s her,” Mitsunari sounded the most serious I’d heard in my stay. The heartache was clear as day, and this was obviously something that he had locked away to forget. His hopes long gone on finding his missing sister, making my heart bleed for him.

I knocked on the door, plastering a smile on my face as I brought along the food tray that Hideyoshi had me make for Ishida. I was sure I’d gotten away with my eavesdropping until Toyotomi gave me a look that said I’d definitely been caught.

“What was your childhood like?” He asked, looking me straight in the eyes.

I froze, remembering the vivid conversation with Sasuke about not telling anyone where we really were from 500 years in the future, not that anyone would believe me if I told them anyway. Both warlords were staring at me before I gave an uneasy smile.

“I don’t like to talk about the past, I’d much rather look to the future,” I eventually replied and swiftly left the room before anything else could be asked.

I spotted Ieyasu up ahead, who wore a frown the second he saw me and then did a prompt turn about to get away. He was such a fascinating individual, a fire burned deep within him that made me curious, but apparently, everything that even made me glance towards him was definitely only felt on one side. He would always do everything to avoid me, and when he was cornered into any kind of conversation, it was sharp answers that usually led to insults, but he probably didn’t mean it that way. It made me think of my childhood, where I often was in the playground with my nose stuck in a book and enjoying the fantasy world. Apparently, those around me had long been trying to get me upset, but they’d never got anything but the sincerest responses from me. And then they decided to start taking the books off me and start trying to get me to jump for them even though they were out of my reach. My parents, at this point, had decided that I needed to learn something as a self-defence mechanism for some reason, I didn’t see the link even now, but aikido was the best one they decided. It was an art that was designed to protect someone without injuring any attackers, and that it used the attacker’s strength and force instead of my own also made it an advantage for my smaller build.

I had been visiting Kyoto to look at some new aikido studios, as well as visiting a potential new client when the wormhole opened. And now I felt very out of place in the Sengoku under Nobunaga Oda as his Chatelaine and also as an Oda Princess. I shook my head to break my melancholy mood and decided that I needed to get out of the castle for a change of scenery.

The stall holders were as cheery as usual, and then someone attracted my attention to a new merchant. He was selling off books, on topics that I didn’t recall seeing in the vast library. A group of men were crowding me out, but I didn’t realise until they virtually had me pinned to the stall. I guessed that their intentions weren’t honest, but I knew that if I started an all-out brawl here in the centre, then it would upset everyone and possibly cause a lot of damage.

“Now then, we are going for a little walk, Princess,” one man had his hand firmly on my wrist while the others were following his lead from all appearances. I nodded in compliance, ignoring that as soon as we left the immediate vicinity, there would be a stampede running up to the castle to tell the warlords.

I let them think I wasn’t capable of anything as I studied them in silence. Six men to one woman wasn’t the fairest of ratios, while I listened in on their conversation. There was mention of ‘Kennyo’, a name that I had also heard frequently around the castle as we reached the outskirts of Azuchi.

Now my struggle started, I pulled my wrist free from the man’s grasp, which had gone lapse in his confidence that I was subdued. I ducked under his expected punch to try and concuss me before I pulled his arm backwards and one of his comrades ran into it while attempting to catch me. My arms were thrown around my initial attacker’s waist as he went to restrain me, and he toppled quickly off balance before I had to dive to the side, using my momentum to power my headbutt to yet another man’s stomach. Winding them was my best target, I didn’t have the strength in me to break their bones or stop them in many ways. If I could get them to keep running into each other’s attacks, then it would help me in just about every manner possible. I kept weaving out of their grasps, dancing about to make sure they hit each other instead of me when possible, and I had dislocated one of their shoulders by pulling a submission hold that I never thought I’d use in real life. His arm was drawn back to an unnatural angle, all I had done was make sure to grab hold of it and use the sheer force he had charged me with to pivot against his torso. I was continually ducking and sliding under arms and legs as they didn’t think to start working together with a collected mind. They clearly were just hired rohin who barely scraped by it seemed.

I had one man charge at me, to which my natural response was to absorb the energy from his hit. My legs spread out swiftly in one fluid motion and gave me the motion to lift up off the ground before using the power to smash him into the hard floor. They weren’t trained in any specific manner, it was a brawl for them as a new set of footsteps came dashing my way. I swiftly analysed that he was going to charge me, and I ducked to bash my shoulder into his stomach, which sent him flying over me as I heard the footsteps skid to a stop.

“Natsuki?” Ieyasu’s voice was the last one I was expecting to hear. His sword was drawn out of its sheath and down at his side, his expectation of needing to protect me clear.

The men staggered to their feet, holding various body parts and tried to escape, only to find that the soldiers of the castle had already encircled the clearing. And the soldiers were looking just as confused as Tokugawa was. I shrugged casually and smiled apologetically before I was marched back with authority straight into the main hall, where the rest of the warlords were currently waiting for us it seemed.

“She took them out herself,” Ieyasu was still in disbelief at the situation he’d stumbled upon as I smiled in embarrassment. “She’s not got a scratch on her!” He exclaimed.

“Explain,” Nobunaga frowned, as Hideyoshi and Masamune were also starting to glare at me.

“I was taught to fight as a child,” I slowly started. “I was being picked on, and my parents believed that if I could defend myself physically, then I would be left alone as I wished,” I paused. “Turned out, I was a natural and I quickly progressed to high-level competitions,” I shrugged. “I knew that if I responded to the men when they immediately surrounded me, then it was likely people would get hurt, so I let them take me to the clearing. It made them think I was weak and couldn’t do anything, so they let their guards down. Then I started to struggle, but I made sure to struggle in the way that they wouldn’t pick up that I knew how to defend myself. Then it was simply a case of using their own power and weight against them,” I explained. “If someone hits your shoulder at a certain height below their centre point, then it’s going to be their own power that sends them flying. And half the time it’s most ducking and diving out of the way and analysing the way they fight to pre-empt what they’re going to do next. It’s fairly simple when it comes to the brawling styles like they were. So I could use their own moves against them and tire them out without hurting myself.”

“Interesting,” Masamune broke my monologue, with a sly smirk on his face. “Now I feel like we should be testing you kitten,” he growled playfully and encroached onto me.

Ieyasu pulled me back much to my surprise, as most of the room grinned in response.

“Marking your interest?” Date laughed.

“No, just saving her from your awful attempts at flirting,” Tokugawa bristled. “Come with me,” he instructed, as Oda waved us both off. I was confused but followed the blonde with interest as to what everyone was smirking about in the main hall.

“Don’t you need to go and talk to the men?” I asked, trying to keep pace with the wide strides he was making.

“Mitsuhide will get the information out of them,” he snippily replied.

“They mentioned ‘Kennyo’,” I added, trying to be helpful but ran into the back of the warlord.

“And you didn’t think to mention that?” he snapped and glowered at me.

“No one asked!” I exclaimed as Ieyasu did a 180 turn about and dragged me back to the hall.

“No need to find out who they work for,” the blonde announced, a frown on his face as I was confused to why he was so irritable. “They kept mentioning Kennyo around Natsuki while dragging her off, so either he’s getting desperate to resort to hiring such a load of useless men, or he’s running out of forces,” he frowned. “And what are you doing?” he asked me, turning around.

“You won’t let go of my hand,” I pointed out, feeling very confused about the whole situation. He snorted and practically threw it before I could leave the hall swiftly.

Hideyoshi came by later to my room. The maids had been checking in on me all during the meeting, and had made me a large bowl of soup, and insisted on practically drinking my weight in tea as I gave him a weak smile from under the thick blanket I had been wrapped up in as well.

He smiled and patted me on the head before sitting down, and making another pot of tea as Mitsunari appeared much to my surprise.

“I thought we should actually discuss the obvious that is staring us all in the face,” Hideyoshi announced. “That Natuski is your sister,” he looked at his vassal, who refused to look his Lord in the eye. “She has that same cowlick,” Toyotomi smiled, and tugged slightly on my flyaway locks, “And the colour of your hair and eyes, nevermind how mild-mannered you both are,” he chuckled. “And that the chances of Natsuki not being your sister are minimal,” he pointed out. “Why don’t you like to talk about your childhood?” He poised to me with a frown.

“Because I don’t remember it,” I was blunt. “I can only remember from around the age of seven, before that nothing exists in my memories,” I shrugged, and avoided looking at anything but my teacup.

“Nobunaga said that you didn’t come from here, you come from 500 years in the future,” Mitsunari spoke and startled me.

“Yes, I fell through a wormhole,” I eventually replied. “I was displaced in time, so how can I be Mitsunari’s sister then?” I frowned at Hideyoshi.

“Your ninja friend dropped by,” Hideyoshi sighed. “And apparently explained things to Nobunaga before disappearing to explain your origins after the fight, but before that council we just had. There were a spree of wormholes around your location in the future, and it’s likely they were trying to correct themselves. Hence you disappeared from here twenty years ago, and then came back when you’re needed,” he patted me on the head. “Though I’m sure Ieyasu is the most grateful.”

“Why?” I frowned, trying to make sense of the man.

“You’re as oblivious as Mitsunari,” Toyotomi chuckled. “Anyway, after today’s antics, you need to rest,” he ordered, clearing everything away.

It was a few days before everyone would start acting normally about me, though Masamune was forever popping up to challenge me as I went about my daily duties. Ieyasu was attending to a cut on my forehead after I had tripped over Date’s foot in the corridor, and muttering to himself about dopey smiles. He tilted my head up from my chin to get a better look in the fading light to make sure it was clean, as his thumb brushed against my lower lip lightly.

“I swear I’m going mad around you,” he muttered and then pulled me into a hug. I was surprised and hesitantly wrapped my arms around him as I listened to his erratic heartbeat.

“I don’t understand,” I whispered, still in shock to be in his embrace.

“I don’t,” Ieyasu grumbled, “Just be quiet and keep that dopey smile of yours about,” he gave a faint smile, and I thought my heart was going to burst. “You let six men think they have the advantage before completely wiping them out, but you can’t keep an eye out for Masamune,” he dryly chuckled.

“Oh, my,” Mitsuhide’s voice made us both freeze up. “This looks incriminating,” his slithery smile made my spine tingle.

Ieyasu didn’t let me go, which was the most surprising part of it for me, but he merely glared at the imposing male. “Did you mean to interrupt or are you just here to irritate us?” He grumbled.

“I came to advise that the men who were captured are denying all knowledge of any plot with Kennyo, so I assumed that you would assist,” the kitsune was smirking broadly.

“Fine,” Tokugawa was stiff, but briefly kissed me on the lips before releasing me from his hold. “Go back to your room, I’ll likely be a while,” he instructed as I stood blinking at the now open and vacant doorway before slowly lifting my fingers to my lips.

“I told you that you were as oblivious as your brother,” Hideyoshi chuckled, sticking his head in after overhearing the conversation. “Come on, I’ll take you back,” he offered, a broad smile on his face.

#mitsunari ishida #Ieyasu Tokugawa #ikesen #Ikémen Sengoku #ikemen sengoku

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shadowsof-thenight · 6 years ago

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The long way home: Chapter eight

Story summary: An AU about Steve Rogers that takes place in college. When you were kids, Steve was your best friend. Where he was you were and vice versa. So when your father got a new job on the other side of the country your 11 year old heart broken.

Over the years you had stayed in contact, though. And now, seven years later, you were off to college and unknowingly you’d applied to the college he had started at last year. You agree to meet on your second day and suddenly it all seemed a little less scary. Will you pick up where you’d left off? Or will everything have changed as much as Steve’s appearance.

Ship: Steve Rogers X Reader Warnings: None. Words: 2871

***

If you want to get tagged, please let me know. I’d be happy too. This goes for all my stories.

***

Masterlist Story Masterlist

Previous Chapter

***

When you got back to school, you tried to get back to normal and you knew there were choices to make in order for that to happen. The feelings you had for Steve were not going to disappear any time soon, you knew that now. And it made no sense to keep denying them to yourself. Ignorance was not your friend.

This created a few options for you to consider. One: Admit you feelings to Steve. Which would mean risking your friendship. Two: Simply pretend that feelings weren’t involved around your friends. This would not be easy, with the effects he seemed to have on you. However it felt like this held the least risk. All you risked was your own heart.

In the back of your mind the idea that he too might feel more than simple friendship kept popping up, but you squashed it. Every single time. What other choice did you have really? It was a stubborn idea though. Resurfacing repeatedly. Whenever he would kiss your temple, or the top of your head, it would surge again. And you would tell yourself that these were normal things. Possibly even brotherly.

And when he would look into your eyes a little too long, making you feel as if he saw right into your soul, you just told yourself that you were being silly. He wasn't looking a little too long, you were trying to see something that wasn't there. He wasn’t into you and this idea was just you fooling yourself. You were simply projecting.

So you tried to control your breathing whenever he was near you, hoping to keep your heart rate under control as well. It wasn't easy, at moments it would drive you nuts. Yet, it allowed you be around him and that was enough of a reward for the time being. And having him hug you close during movie nights or laugh with you in your precious spare time, was enough. It would be enough.

That was why, when the first big game of the second semester came around and he asked you to come and watch him play, you figured he had simply been trying to include you in something that the rest of your friends were already included in. After all the guys all played together, while Natasha would be on the side lines cheering them on with her team.

As you made your way towards the field, students all around were getting rowdy. They were excited for the game, assuming that their team would win of course. They sang, laughed and made bold claims concerning the outcome of the upcoming match. You smiled as you took it all in.

The stands were already filling up nicely when you reached them and you were glad to know that a seat would be saved for you. Natasha had asked you to sit close to her, for company.

As you got closer, you noticed that a big portion of the cheerleaders were entertaining the crowds, while some of them stood in groups, talking amongst themselves. When they saw you coming, they smiled and welcomed you. Over the past few months you had come to know that they were all very nice.

You returned the gesture as you walked up to Natasha, who was standing over by the stands, talking to Carol. She was also a cheerleader, you had met het quite early on in the year and learned that she was incredibly funny. Unfortunately for her, last game she had injured her foot and was unable to cheer right now.

“Hi, Y/n. I saved you a seat” said Carol as she waved you over. Natasha turned to you with a bright smile. Natasha quickly moved in to hug you, momentarily stalling her conversation with Carol. You smiled and waved at Carol as soon as the hug ended and Natasha went back to informing Carol of certain changes that had been made to their routine that week. While she listened, Carol removed her bag from the seat next to her, allowing you to sit there.

Another thing you had learned a bout Carol, she was also very passionate about cheerleading and football. If she could’ve she would have joined the football team as well. You were certain she could easily keep up with the men. Surely her work-out regime would attest to that.

Sitting down beside her as Natasha was called by her team for a performance, you quickly began talking about the results of the exams that had come out that week. Much like you Carol had passed all her exams, for which you were both very happy. It relieved so much stress. In case of Carol, though, it also added some stress. As a sophomore, it was time to decide a major to pursue. Like you, Carol had come to university with a clear idea of what she wanted. However as the time had progressed, she had begun to doubt herself and she was now considering her options.

Soon the game started, effectively pulling Carol’s attention away from her major picking issues. Cheering along from her seat, with her teammates, she had little time for idle chitchat. You could not help but chuckle as you saw her immerse herself fully into encouraging the team. She watched the game intently, not noticing much of went on around her.

With your attention drawn back to the game at hand, you wiped your clammy hands on your jeans. These games always made you nervous. He was good and you knew that it made him a target. You’d seen him bite the dust more than once before.

Finally you followed Carol’s lead and turned your attention onto the field. Although your intense gaze was mostly directed at one person in particular. Smiling, you admired him as he ran the field, doing what he did best. He was fast, agile and strong. His throwing precision was surprisingly accurate, at least for someone who was happy to not create injuries by throwing. Your hand-eye coordination was nothing to boast about, unlike Steve’s obviously.

The first quarter of the game went by rather uneventful. Not until the second quarter, did that change and the smile was wiped off your face. Steve was slammed hard and the entire audience let out a collective gasp as he went down. Your heart stopped beating for a moment as you waited for him to get up. It took all your will power not to run unto that field.

Soon enough Steve jumped up, shaking hands with his attacker, laughing it off. He seemed no worse for wear, you realized as you tried to catch your breath, while he calmly jogged away from the scene of the incident.

Breathing in deep and slowly exhaling, you willed your heart to beat resume its regular rhythm. Carol chuckled a little as she noticed your unease and rubbed your shoulders for a second, in an attempt to sooth you. She had no idea how much it really killed you to see him fall to the ground like time.

Carol began applauding as the game started again, only one more play getting done before half time was called. You sighed once more as you watched him jog off the field with his team mates and then allowed yourself to be distracted by the cheerleaders dancing on the field. Your heart rate had returned to normal again and your hands were no longer damp with sweat triggered by fear.

The rest of the game continued in very similar way. With you holding your breath, clenching your fists and anxiously counting the seconds, whenever Steve took another hit. And every time he got up laughing. The little shit had no idea what he was doing to you. He even winked at you, offering you a big smile as he ran by. You tried to answer with a smile of your own, but imagined it must have looked rather forced. He had not seemed to notice as his focus was back on the game.

You’d never been into sports yourself and you didn’t really grow up watching much of it either. You had were not calloused enough to the practice of men running into one another and ploughing the other down. It all seemed so vicious.

The game was nearly over and it appeared that they were wiping the field with their visitors, when Steve took another hit. Silence took over the field as everyone watched with bated breath as the tall young man went down. As much as you wanted him to get up laughing, you had seen the hit. Saw the impact, as he was hit from behind. He had not seen it coming, most likely had not been able to brace himself for the fall. This attack had been much harder than the ones before.

After what felt like forever, Steve got up from the ground and shook hands much like before, but the smile had been wiped from his face. There was a certain strain now and as Bucky ran over to check on him, you could feel your stomach clenching painfully as you kept eyeing him.

Natasha caught your eye for a moment and scrunched up her face. She too had been more than a little shocked by the whole ordeal.

After he seemingly had convinced Bucky and their coach that he was fine, the game continued. Yet the breath that had gotten stuck in your throat as you watched him fall, would not find a release and you took shallow gasps as you willed the game to finally end. It didn’t work, of course, but you kept trying anyway.

When it finally did, you slumped a little in the seat, exhaling loudly and trying to steady your heart while Natasha walked over to you. She chuckled lightly, probably in an attempt to lighten the mood, as she reached you. You looked up at her quizzically and she shook her head, telling you that she could have been easily engrossed the entire match just by watching your face. You scoffed and she pulled you into a hug, rubbing your back soothingly.

“I'm sure he's fine.” she whispered, soft enough that only you would hear her and you nodded feebly in agreement.

After all he had walked off the field on his own. Bucky and Clint walked right besides him, ready to support him when needed. But he had not leaned on them. Surely he must have been just fine. Still, you could not shake the unnerving feeling you got when he had gotten up that last time. You’d seen the strain in his jaw. He had been in pain.

When all the cheerleaders left to their own changing room, Natasha followed. Before she did though, she told you once again that he was fine. Which you would know if you went to see for yourself. You smiled as you met her eyes, she knew you too well already. She had already realized that you would need to see him for yourself in order for the knot in your stomach to loosen.

Waving as they walked off, you moved to the locker rooms, waiting right outside. As you waited, most of the team walked past you, saying their hello’s as they did so. Sam had taken a moment to wait with you, promising you that Steve was perfectly fine just a little banged up. Nothing the guy could not handle. Placating him, you had smiled and nodded before you explained to Sam that you were still going to wait for Steve to come out. Just for the fun of it, you’d said. He didn’t appear to believe you as he shook his head before waving off, telling you he was ready for bed now. The game had wiped him. Which didn’t surprise you one bit. It had been a rough game. The other team was good. And brutal. You hugged Sam tight for a moment, before wishing him happy dreams as he walked off.

When Steve finally came out, everyone else had left well before. Bucky walked right beside him. Upon seeing you, Bucky smiled before going off to see Natasha. Steve smirked as he walked closer to you. You shook your head with a smile as you noticed his small limp. As soon as he stood before you, you also noticed the slight hunch and his arm placed protectively over his lower ribs.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again” you scolded him, making sure to keep your tone light, pretending to be at least somewhat joking. You weren’t. Not even a bit. Seeing him go down that last time had been far too scary.

“Why?” He smirked, “would you miss me?” he said and you laughed as you thought back to a conversation you'd had a few weeks before.

“You have no idea” you promised him with a warm smile and he moved to wrap an arm around your shoulders, kissing the top of your head as he so often seemed to do. He sighed deeply, holding you close a moment longer, before he began to walk towards the exit, pulling you with him.

“I might need some looking after” he then said, as you neared his car, smiling sweetly at you. A little too sweetly, you noticed. What was he up too?

“You just want to be pampered” you said with a chuckle and waited for him to get his keys from his bag.

“Yes, definitely,” He paused a few second, “Also they fear I might have a slight concussion.” he said quickly, his words nearly jumbled together. But you had heard him loud and clear.

“What?!” the words came out a shriek. The shock taking over your vocal cords.

“Just a little one” he said, trying to make light of the situation.

“There is no such thing you idiot” you bit back and smacked his arm angrily. Steve could not help but chuckle at your indignation, but stopped quickly and winced. You knew right then that his ribs were really hurting. He was usually much better at hiding his injuries.

“Such an idiot” you muttered and got out your phone. Time to ask Natasha where she would be spending the night. As you had expected, she was spending the night with Bucky and you offered up your bed for him to sleep in, so you could keep an eye on him.

“My place works too” Steve said and you considered which would be better. If he stayed with you, you could try and get some sleep in Natasha's bed. However, if you stayed over at his place, it would be either the couch or the floor. Neither seemed very comfortable options. You also didn’t think that they cleaned their floor thoroughly enough for your standards.

Upon sensing your apprehension, Steve was quick to argue that his bed would easily fit you both. It was also more comfortable than yours. You could not deny that last part. Your bed was not half as comfy as his was. What held you back was the idea of sharing a bed, even if it was to play nurse. It would be hard to keep your heart rate under control for such a long period. On the other hand, it was a nice idea. Even if there was nothing romantic about it. Finally he convinced you to stay over at his place, by offering Sam’s services for breakfast and the claiming that either of his roommates would take over his care in the morning, so you could get some sleep.

Which, by the time morning came, was all you really wanted. Sleep. You were exhausted from having to wake Steve up every two hours. And in between the alarms, where he usually drifted off to sleep quite quickly, you were stuck watching his even breathing anxiously and a light slumber, never quite catching any real sleep. So when the seven o’clock alarm rang, you groaned loudly and slapped it silent, telling yourself ‘just one more minute’.

Willing yourself to wake up, you noticed your movements were restricted by an arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close to a warm muscular body. Your heart fluttered in your chest and you lay completely still wondering what the best course of action was while also enjoying the feeling a little.

In his sleep, Steve had apparently hugged you close and with the exhaustion taking over, you hadn't noticed until the alarm finally woke you up. It struck you how nice it felt. His warm body enveloping your own. His strong arm keeping you close.

When he finally moved a moment later, his nose brushed your jawline as he pressed his head in the crook of your neck while he slowly woke up. You nearly stopped breathing all together. Your heart was racing, your mind utter chaos and you couldn’t think. Was he aware of what he was doing?

“Morning” he whispered and kissed your cheek before rolling onto his back. He threw an arm over his eyes as he stretched, tired after his much interrupted sleep, a smile playing on his lips. And you were rendered completely speechless.

***

Tags: @musicfreak180, @ncrediblelove, @lollipopdomination

#The long way home #Steve Rogers x Reader #steve rogers #College AU #MCUfanfiction

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mcnamaraambe · 5 years ago

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Mcnamara Ambe Simple Lead Generation Advice Not Found Elsewhere Online

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Reward your current loyal customers for providing you leads. One way that many companies do this is by offering their current customers referral rewards. These rewards run from future discounts to actual cash back. This can be a lot cheaper in the long run than any form of traditional advertising.

Use the phone to call people that may be interested in what you have to offer. You'll be surprised how many people or businesses will be receptive to your sales pitch. Someone will always want to buy what you are selling if it is a good product.

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Consider live chat as a valuable tool for possibly generating more real leads for your business. When you offer potential customers the opportunity to ask live questions and get immediate answers, you can really influence the buying decisions. Keep an expert on hand for your site, and start generating more leads with live chat.

Stop trying to butter customers up! When you need to generate more leads, use a direct approach with them, because chances are good that neither you nor they have a lot of time for small talk and schmoozing. Get to your point, offer a great price for clicking the "buy now" icon and get better results.

Mcnamara Ambe Expert tips provider. Remember that people respect honesty more than hype, so when you try to generate more leads, leave an open and honest offer on the table. Adding bells and whistles just makes you look like a generic salesperson who will do whatever it takes to get people to buy. Generate leads with a quality presentation and you gain permanent customers instead.

Never overlook or underestimate a lead source. You will have many avenues for gathering leads such as buying or self-gathering or even word-of-mouth. Always look at each avenue for validity. Buying leads can be a great way to jump start your efforts, but they may not be the same quality leads you gain from a targeted effort.

Don't be driven by only bringing in targeted leads to your website. It's not harmful if people come to your site who might not buy from you, although you shouldn't be focusing on them entirely, of course. Be sure to use tools which determine which visitors to your site are leads and which are just looky-lous.

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#Mcnamara Ambe

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desperatelyseekingdennis · 6 years ago

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Captain Marvel

I went into this expecting mediocrity, and was not disappointed. About on par with Ant Man and the Wasp, but without Paul Rudd to make it enjoyable.

Surprisingly, the soundtrack is absolutely the worst part of the movie. That's usually one area Marvel nails, but but here. They kept trying to use pop songs to tie the movie to the 90s, but none of them really fit the scenes. It's obviously possible to pull this off (Edgar Wright comes immediately to mind for another Ant Man comparison, or else various Iron Man scenes) so there's really no excuse.

Action and effects were passable, and the plot not the worst I've seen but still pretty bland. Despite getting a lot of screen time, I never noticed Jackson's de-aging. All told it wasn't a complete waste of money, but I definitely wish my girlfriend hadn't insisted on seeing it in the theater.

From here on out spoilers ahoy as I did deeper into my feelings about specific scenes.

(I started this right after the movie was released, and wrote a giant ten page analysis of the entire plot scene by scene. I saved it to my drafts, forgot about it, then just now erased the entire thing and am going to try and be more focused on just the bits that don’t make sense to me)

So first of all, the “surprise twist” that drives the entire plot doesn’t work in the MCU. The Kree have been villains in several live action properties at this point. The entire plot to the first Guardians was that the Kree are so militaristic that a bunch of them refused to honor a peace treaty. That they’re the put upon victims of the oppressive Skrulls just doesn’t work in this context. Maybe if you’re a comic book fan who knows the Skrulls are *also* villains, but most viewers aren’t going to know that. So it was obvious before they even reached Earth that Jude Law was the bad guy. They’d have been better served picking some other random alien race for her to be a part of. Yes, I know Mar Vell is historically Kree, but he’s also historically male so clearly they don’t care that much about source material. In a pinch, just make Mar Vell a Kree and these new guys are after her research.

The premise that Danvers doesn’t know she’s human also doesn’t make much sense. Did she never bleed in the six years of combat training? Also, and maybe I’m overlooking something, but have there ever been any other white Kree? There’s the one black guy, but even he has a sort of bluish tint. Then there’s Jude Law and Carol being straight crackers. ????? Again, making not making them all Kree would have gone a long way towards fixing this.

Why did SHIELD show up at all? Fury doesn’t believe Danvers is an alien when she claims to be one, so what exactly did they think was worth investigating? They should have MIBed this bitch. Either Fury is a cop that gets taken into SHIELD as a result of him killing a Skrull without training, or he’s the SHIELD agent that takes over after the cop on the scene does so. I’m pretty sure Agents of SHIELD established that Coulson was an analyst before becoming a field agent, so using him for that roll doesn’t work well. But given this was a GURL POWER movie, this would have been a fantastic opportunity to give Agent Hill some back story.

In the train scene, how did she know to punch the old lady? They’ve already established the Skrulls are so good at pretending that the Kree have to implant safe words deep in your subconscious to prove your identity, but for some reason she can spot one in a crowd of (what to her are) aliens? For that matter, if they are telepathic, why could the one guy not identify that Fury doesn’t go by Nicholas? That whole scene where he specifies that he only goes by Fury should have been pretty close to the surface. Even so, that scene was so bad. It was so obviously tacked on to use as a plot device later. The writers are aware that Fury has appeared in other movies, right? That he’s not an original character? What happened in the next twenty years that made him reevaluate people calling him Nick? <Danvers reads his ID> “Thank’s Nicholas” “Only one person calls me Nicholas, and you aren’t my momma. Its Fury.” Was that so hard?

The scene with the biker was so bad.. It could have worked if they’d done something with the “why don’t you smile” line, but they didn’t. He said it, end scene. ??? It also felt like it might have been a Terminator reference that also fell flat, but that might just be my imagination. As it stands, it only serves as a wink and a nudge at their SJW targets, without actually providing anything for the rest of the audience.

Why is the light speed engine so important? Mar Vell seems convinced it will bring peace to the galaxy, and Jude Law at least pretends to think it will allow them to conquer it. But they already have the weird window portal things. I guess the weird portals are static in space, so I can see where FTL travel independent of them would be beneficial, but hardly the game changer its being made out to be.

On the subject of pointless McGuffins, lets review the history of the Tesseract prior to this movie. Odin loses it on Earth, where Red Skull discovers it The Real Captain steals it from Red Skull, but loses it in the ocean where eventually Howard Stark will recover it and give it to SHIELD. It stays with SHIELD until Loki steals it in the opening scene of the Avengers. Its stolen like five more times before eventually Thanos uses it to murder Spiderman. Nice chain of possession, no unexplained gaps.

Post Captain Marvel, we learn that along the way somehow the Air Force gets hold of it, where an alien managed to steal it and hide it on her space ship for at least six years before SHIELD, completely unaware of its existence, stumbles upon it. Again, the writers are aware that there were other MCU movies before this one, right? This isn’t really a problem per se, its just dumb. Its answering a question nobody had, complicating a narrative for no reason except that they couldn’t come up with a non-Infinity Stone McGuffin.

When they fly into space and can’t find the space ship, Danvers is just like “Open sesame” and the ship decloaks. ??? How worthless is Kree cloaking technology if it can be turned off remotely by somebody who doesn’t even know its there?

It was pointed out on Twitter that the song the Supreme Intelligence dances to that she pulled out of Danver’s memories would have been released after Danvers moved to Hela. I can’t confirm that because I don’t remember what song was playing, but if true that’s pretty bad writing. People will write it off as “she probably heard it in the car with Fury” but you can’t just invent a scene to fill in a plot hole. That’s the writers’ job, and they didn’t do it.

There’s more to unpack in that Supreme Intelligence scene, but they mostly come down to “what are the rules of this technology?”

Then the climax. Oh my god the climax. She thinks real hard and destroys the little chip that’s been blocking her powers (bee the dubs, until they explained otherwise I thought the little chip was the source of her powers), then suddenly she’s God. No ramping up, no learning curve. Just “oh, I can fly now and direct fire from a fucking attack cruiser doesn’t hurt me” and the movie is over. What the actual fuck. I can’t even put into words how bad the last act was.

So I won’t. Instead, I’ll talk about Thor: Ragnarok. At the beginning of the movie, he’s cocky as hell. He’s stupid over powered, and he knows it. So when his sister appears he ends up losing his hammer because he’s so sure of himself that he doesn’t take a moment to think about the situation. Then he winds up on the Junk Planet, and he’s still cocky. He’s going to fight the champion and get off the planet then go kill his sister no big deal. But he loses there, too. He’s starting to lose faith in himself, but it doesn’t matter because he’s the only one that can do what needs to be done. Finally he’s able to get off planet and back to his sister... Where he loses again. Now he’s hit rock bottom. His people are going to die because he wasn’t strong enough to save them. At that moment, he has a literal deus ex machina moment (in that Odin is a literal god) and regains all his power and proceeds to kick all the names and take all the ass. (that was meant to be an Infinity War reference and not a suggestion about what his intentions re: Valkyrie, honest)

At this point in the movie, he’s basically at the same level Danvers is at the end of hers. Completely unstoppable, unreasonable power levels all around. The difference is he earned his position. He fought for it, almost died for it several times. Danvers just... thought real hard. At any point in the movie did she lose a fight? Was she ever in any real danger? Even in the opening scene when she’s sparring with Jude Law its made clear that he’s incapable of beating her which is why he’s pushing her to learn to hold back. And that’s with the power dampener. Thor Ragnarok has *so* many problems, but at least they gave the hero a journey to go on. And that’s accounting for the fact that he starts off pretty ridiculously powerful.

I’m officially out of time and this is getting out of hand so I’m just going to wrap this up. This was actually shorter than what I originally had.

#captain marvel #thor #MCU #reviews

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pinkpoundcake · 7 years ago

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DESERT DEVIL

CH. 1 THE HISS

All Might/ Reader as Female OC

NSFW AU ( Yes there’s smut)

4k+ words

Here’s the first chapter of something I’ve been working on during off time at school. I like writing drastically different AUs, because they give me a lot liberties. I intend for this to be a short series, so maybe two or three more chapters after this one. Hope ya enjoy if you read!

I’m not sure if FF.net will allow second person, so I’m posting it here. I aint got no AO3. I also apologize for any mistakes! I’ll go back an’ fix as I see em.

EDIT: Went back and fixed some things. Also, I changed the category of this fic. I’m warning the reader that you’re an OC! Kinda like you’re a preset character in a dating sim? If that makes any sense. Those be my only terms of free service.

Dusk had gone and night finally draped over the still view of the valley. You were a silly girl, really. No one in their right mind would pick now of all times to draw water from one of the wells. Maybe once upon a time they would have. It wasn't impractical to wait until the sun stopped cracking its infernal whip to get things done, but once upon a time, the valley had nothing to fear.

II.

You were walking quickly. You kept your wooly head low as you neared the crudely built structure. Only one bucket of water. No one would mind. You just couldn't go to bed with a clear conscience without finally giving your poor, overworked horse something to drink. You'd take the risk, because glory knows you hated having cottonmouth. It was cottonmouth season...all year round it felt, except for the few praise inducing weeks the sky would show mercy and weep. Dry mouth, dry eyes, dry coat, dry everything. Such is the way of the desert.

You gave your heavy water bag a hard yank to make sure it was sealed before you hightailed it back to your plot. The locust had stopped gossiping in the weeds, and it was making you nervous.

III.

You were the sort of gal who liked to blend in, but your talents made that hard. You had an ability, A Gift, as folks liked to call these sorts of things, that made you incredibly valuable for trade.

You engaged in it as well, because you had to, to get along, but it made you an easy volun-telling target for other croppers and craftsmen and all manners of citizens with business

“Could you chat with this fellow for me? He speaks...sumfin’. The hell if I know. He owes me money.”

“Tell that eastern cheapskate I won't go any lower on price!”

“Hey, goat girl, tell the front counter dame in the Apothecary she's welcome in my bunk any time of day~”

First of all, you were a sheep. Second of all...fine.

IV.

Your Gift was nice for the most part. You had your own upper hand when it came to sale. You could understand anyone, no matter the spoken language. Absolutely essential for such an oddly diverse patch of scorched Earth. You could even help filter a speaker to an entire audience if you held their hand. You didn't like to advertise that though, otherwise the mayor and sheriff and whoever else, would be breathing down your neck even more than they did now.

If no one around knew you, then they usually assumed your appearance was all there was to your Gift. So, what you loved most was eavesdropping. Conversations were mostly mundane in other languages. That's how talking worked, but there were days when you were served some pretty interesting dirt or juicy news by unknowing hosts.

They're going to start rationing water tomorrow. Some serious limits, I reckon.

I didn't think it would be this bad this year?! It rained just enough in the early season, didn't it? I wonder where it all goes.

You wonder the same. It gets worse and worse every year. Every year it's a point of serious tension. They don't call this valley Struggler for nothing. Struggling was this town's first, middle, and last time. Maybe it's old maiden name, too.

The commonality is, is that if you made it halfway through the desert, you stopped in this crowded, little town and clung to it for dear life. You personally knew what it was like. Everyone knew what it was like, to fear that you weren't going to make it to The Oasis at the end of your journey. After the promenade that chewed you up, and spat you out, you don't even try.

We don't have enough water for all the people we keep letting stay here!

But what kind of person could keep a cold heart here? What would it take to let someone waste away elsewhere, or worse, face the beast this desert had to offer.

The Hiss.

More chilling than a rattlesnake's warning.

This broad blue sky. The hard clay and sand beneath his form, the cacti, the dry bones and evaporated watering holes. Every scavenger to circle overhead belonged to him.

The hard, hot wind. The mirages that danced in nauseating ribbons. They were his. He could lift his head, and think about howling to his old lovers, the stars, if he still had the singing voice. But he lost that a long time ago with one of his lungs. He was getting old, too, but his bloodlust was getting stronger every year, along with a lot of puzzling urges.

He hated that he could only claim his seared kingdom at night, but it couldn't be helped. He was a partial coward who couldn't hope to understand himself. He still had a deep sense of decency. He was a hypocrite, in a sense. He didn't want to be a bother during the day, if he was such a big bother at night. But being a menace at night was to be a nuisance in the day, regardless.

And nuisance was...too light of a word. Far too light. Crows in his sunflowers were nuisances. Locust in his house were nuisances.

Him?

Oh, he was

VI.

“A killer...A fuckin’ killer!”

You watched as the town sheriff swore and covered the body of a, now former, foreman with a bit of canvas. Splotches of blood bloomed in the fabric over the inclines of the older man's face. From what you saw, he was mauled real good. Or...bad. A big bite right out of his jugular, clavicle, and most of his left shoulder. You weren't the only sick one in the crowd. You would have upchucked your breakfast if this wasn't something you were becoming accustomed to.

First it was Mr. Dandy, gnawed out chest, who used to rally up hunting parties with the German twins who could shoot right out of their fingers, no guns needed. Then it was Eclair, you didn't know her last name, who sold pungent perfume from her own sweat out of her tacky little shop. Y'all never found her head. Big Cat Capri from Cameroon, was torn in two. Though he was a menace with a forgettable Gift that wasn't much missed. Then there was another fellow. Japanese you think, but actually he was still limping around somewhere.

The only one to see The Beast and live… The fella's pretty busted up as far as you know.

Anyway, time for another funeral.

VII.

Speaking of that old Japanese fellow…

You didn't give him much of a glance at any given day, but you could see him out of the corner of your squared pupils, watching you hand off chunks of unwashed wool to craftsmen who were probably going to fashion saddles or boots. It wasn't quite the right time to start plucking from your melon patch, or any of the desert dates, so you were selling off some old stock of your hair. Everyone knew it was your hair, and no one really cared.

God, you couldn't recall his name. You've never actually heard him speak, but the fella always sat at the posts near the trading square and just watched the street; waiting for someone with their hands full to need help lacing up their boots. Or for someone's goat to go astray so he could bring it back to them. Or to help some kid out on errands tether their family horse. You wonder why he would go through those little efforts on a limp. He walked with a cane, bright red like a dragon, with a yellowing cattle horn handle. He wore a big brimmed, leather hat so that he didn't catch perpetual sunburn, thick slacks, a poor fitting button up that used to be white, and strapped riding boots, too, but no spurs.

He was a strange sight, you noted with slight nervousness as he stood, and then made his way over to your shabby booth. He was a tall, tall, tall fella. Tall and skinny, like he didn't fancy eating much. You knew a couple of people who were like that. He had wild, blonde hair, he obviously didn't comb. And honestly, he had the prettiest blue eyes. At least you assumed they were. He was swallow enough that his eyes were sunk deep beneath his brow, but that blue struck out like an aimed double barrel. It made you wonder what he looked like when he was a colt.

“Afternoon, sir,” You cleared your throat. You watched his face to gauge how much he understood you. You didn't want to be rude. “No food. Just some wool today.”

The older man, squinted, seemingly thinking, and then gestured to your freshly sheared head with the handle of his cane.

“It's all mine, yes.” You laughed and scratched one of your horns to release some of your anxiousness.

“How...How much for it?” His accent was somewhat thick, but you were happy you wouldn't have to reach out and grab one of his massive hands to get on some equal ground.

“Five pieces for a small bundle. Ten for the big bundles there.” You watched the fellow consider which size, and then finally he made a decision. Slowly he lifted one of the large cottony wads, and then absentmindedly brought it to his nose. He gently inhaled the intriguing scent there.

You stared, perplexed, and confused. He seemed to pick up on your confusion, and righted himself. He gave you his own awkward smile, almost an apology for…whatever that was. He counted out ten small pieces for you, politely dipped his head with a thank you, and then moseyed along.

Strange…

VIII.

He was drunk. Absolutely drunk, and he'd never had a drop of liquor in his life. Tequila couldn't have been stronger than this. Your scent, your scent was so...He didn't know.

Good.

It made him hungry for things he'd forgotten the name of, forgotten how to describe. He didn't know what he was doing alone in the shack he called his home. Hiding his shame maybe. He'd locked the door with the big expensive chains and padlocks ( that were decor at this point) from the top shelf hours ago as night began to fall. He was paranoid, and feeling ravenous for a completely different, mysterious reason from what he was used to.

He held your wool in one hand, pressing it flush to his nose as he paced from one side of his home to the other. The misaligned floor groaned and weazed beneath his heavy, bare footsteps. His shadow, flickered from a candle or two, and swept the peach papered walls like a dark, lumbering menace.

What was it that he wanted now?!

He didn't understand himself anymore! There was no one to teach him his purpose.

He inhaled again, deep. His exhale emerged with a low rumble. It rattled the chains strapping the front and back door, and shifted the glass in the kitchen window.

It was happening again much too soon.

There used to be a time when he could command the other half of himself. Where he could be whoever he wanted, whenever, but now he was stripped to nothing but incomprehensible impulses.

His wrath. His hunger. His pride.

Something new. His lust.

IX.

You just finished putting the blanket on Kissy, your horse, when the stars began to rub the long day from their eyes and glint down at you. Though still warm, the wind rolled over your fuzzy scalp and settled in the cooling sweat beneath your dark hide. You rubbed your arms, figuring you could use a blanket, too. Your draft's loud chewing in the stable cover was a calming background noise as it mingled with your thoughts. The flat distance, with it's mountainous levels was a pretty sight, despite being empty.

You've always wanted to roam at night, finally figure out what that fabled Oasis was on the other side of hell. You hoped it was heaven, or something close. You wanted to explore more than your town, to see what was out there while the sun wasn't scheduling your funeral. You were bored of being too scared. Stressed with not having enough of the bare minimum essentials. Lonely, too. Kissy kept you company, maybe, but he wasn't all that good with conversation or cooking.

He wasn't good at stopping you from taking 'walks’ either. You found all sorts of excuses for yourself to roam at night. Kissy needed more water, or you needed to find some wild aloe for a wound, or you needed to find sand grubs for your greedy gossip of chickens.

Excuses, excuses.

Mr. Aizawa, was another Japanese fellow (you think), who wasn't the sheriff, but probably could have been. He'd tell you you were full of excuses. The town had a curfew of sorts to 'keep people safe’. Under what authority this curfew came from, you had no clue. If you were caught, the runner up sheriff hogg tied you with a lasso and a warning, and dragged your sorry, law breaking ass back home. Or fined you. Something like that.

He had an annoying Gift that kept others from using their Gifts to get away. You didn't know how he did it. Much to what was probably Deputy Aizawa's disdain, he was plucked out of the crowd the day he arrived. He had a scruffy grifter appearance, but the fellow was awfully strict, perfectly bilingual in relation to you, and knew exactly what your own Gift entailed, so you couldn't pretend you didn't understand any of his honorary demands.

You didn't even give yourself a chance to consider he might be out and about on patrol. You didn't even consider where the hell you were going. All you knew was that you were:

Literally and figuratively hard headed.

And

Dumb as rocks because it was half past night noon, and anywhere beyond the aloe thicket was Hiss county.

The danger zone.

A scent was a scent was a scent. Something to follow to a target. His prey were rotten. He caught the next foul stench on the hit list floating on the western wind. It filled his flared nostrils and made his mouth water with anticipation. His long, thick fingers were still raw and full of splinters from clawing his way out from his pathetic attempts at shutting himself in.

The night was a blur. He was unbothered by the grit he kicked up in his full run. Adrenaline pumped in his veins with the incredible accumulation of power that drove him. There was a roar in his ears. Something he rushed by sliced him; thin little scratches in several places, but he didn't notice. His heart thrashed beneath his ribs as he sensed himself drawing closer and closer.

Wait.

Suddenly, he came to a halt, giving the surrounding weeds severe whiplash.

Everything aside from his heart and his laboured breathing were still. Not a sound from any creature. Nothing was brave enough to disturb him.

There was something... something else on the wind he wanted much, much more that seemed to be coming from the same direction.

XI.

The last thing you wanted to hear was a voice while you were trying to be sneaky. You kept your body low and tucked your tail close to the full round of your bottom. It was going so nicely, your 'stroll’. You were going to take some notes in one of your books, maybe stuff some natural souvenirs in your pocket, and then head back home.

You held still for a while and used a few big, healthy stragglers of agave as your cover. You were hearing the voice again, now two voices. You didn't know what dialect they were speaking, so you closed your eyes, and used your Gift.

He's been shelling out a lot for this reroute. Keeping a lot of people's mouths shut. It's gonna be a lot harder to get this done without the foreman.

Yeah, I thought that, too. It's strange. I'm sorta...spooked. Mr. Dandy and now him. You’d think this whole thing was cursed.

Or someone knows…

They looked mauled, couldn't have been some poor bastard with a pistol. What do they call the thing that's been chewing people up?

Depends on who you talk to. Yok... something. Yokay? Yokai? Chupacabra, though it's not gettin’ goats, that's for sure. Werewolf. Howler. Beast. Plain old monster.

I just hope it's a coincidence. I don't want to be next…

Now...what in the world we're these fellers talking about? You frowned while quietly slinking around to another perch. You watched your footing and hoped they would talk more, but now they were getting further and further away. Headed…somewhere.

Somewhere you kept your eye on. Might want to check it out next time you take a stroll.

XII.

The air pressure flipped like a coin and cut through your moment of reprieve.

Bullseye.

You were so shocked you couldn't even scream. It was caught in your throat with a pinch of desert sand. Something massive and unyielding and menacing had ripped the ground from beneath your feet.

The sky was spinning round and round as the earth teetered wild on its axis. The moon was mocking you. The stars cackled as they danced, blurry streams trailing like faded candle lights behind them.

There was a black patch of sky that didn’t budge, and it only held two stars far above that didn't move either. Because they weren't stars,

they were vivid blue eyes.

XIII.

This was it. This was how you were going to die.

You were already nauseous from hitting you head, and now you were nauseous from hitting reality. You couldn't make a sound, could hardly breathe. Your throat burned like a shot of fireball. Your eyes were wide as you tried to make out the Beast's form. It was hard, with hot tears in your eyes, now shrouding the moon’s pale light. You could hear him, though, the hiss of death. It was high pitched, akin to the sizzle of a hot brand.

Would it have ripping fangs when it bit you? We're those its claws digging into your ankles as it dragged you elsewhere? You were in a bit of pain, and you could sense the stickiness of blood on your back, but you were mentally preparing yourself for a lot more. Images of the sheriff draping canvas over your mangled body caused you to wretch.

You were so stupid!!!!! SO GODDAMN STUPID. HOW COULD YOU PUT YOURSELF IN THIS SITUATION? NO WEAPON. NO NOTHING. THIS IS WHAT YOU GET. HOW COULD YOU-

It stopped.

You stopped.

Confusion boxed you good over the ears.

You were staring up into the face of a man now, and he was staring right back at you.

Your confusion subsided into renewed fear. He was just a man, but the most unnaturally large man you had ever seen. Large was the wrong word. He was...immaculate. A threadbare shirt was struggling to hold itself together as his massive chest flexed. He had a heavily shadowed face and unreadable, though somewhat tense expression. His golden hair stood upright on his forehead head, like a red bat's ears or jack rabbit. Pure, wild, chaotic energy wafted from the heat of his skin. He shifted slightly while sizing you, and your eyes darted to the massive, bear paw of a calloused hand on the other side of your head.

He could sneeze and snap your neck. You believed he could tear a man in two. Oh God in heaven, he did! And you were next!

The Beast made a sudden movement, and you shut your eyes. You clenched everything from your horned head, to your cleft, hooven toes, and waited.

You had no choice but to hold your breath as his big, otherworldly body pressed into yours. It felt like being pressed between something more solid than a rock, and a really hard place. His breath, that you realized was rushed, cooly ghosted your forehead. Was he going to take your noggin like Eclair and mount it over his fireplace?

Greedily, he was drinking in your scent. So much stronger, so much better right from the source. He had to sample more of you. Sip you. Lap you up.

Where was it?! Where was more?!

You didn't think you could tense beyond how much you were tensed now, but you did as his nose left your head to wedge its way up into your neck. You felt the unnatural rumble of his voice in the hollows of your bones, filling your throat and chest. You prepared for hard, life ending bites, but all you received we're moderately painful nips and what could only be described as sloppy kisses. He received the sensation of kissing your fur with intrigue and almost groomed it with a big, wide tongue.

You didn't know what to say, or what to do. He hadn't said a word. You didn't know if the brute mounting you was really human, or …Something. Was all of this even real? Or were you home, wet dreaming about a good rut in your bunk again?

He needed more! More! More! More! Where was more of you?!

He left you one last bite on your shoulder that you were ashamed made you bellow out like the animal you were similar to. You slapped a hand over your mouth, but it was too late, the sound excited him. His nose grazed you, his rapid breaths through his nose like the pumping steam from a piston, a panting dog, frantically looking for more of your tastes and smells. Your clothes were in his way, but he didn't have the patience or current cognition to remove them.

He rubbed his cheeks against your generous chest, nipped your stomach through your tattered apron, and then zipped straight to your crotch. You were shocked as he unashamedly, obliviously, pressed his face there and very audibly inhaled. There was another rumble, loud enough to buzz through your entire body.

“A-Ah!” You cried out. The sharp, pleasurable tingle and sting from his deep voice, the pressure from his cheeks, and the heat of his breath was sudden. You were so…you were…

You could end this year's drought right here, right now.

You bit your lip, desperately wanting to access the situation. To think! To sort out what in the HELL was happening, but he had ripped through your overalls with his teeth and was lapping at your plump pussy through your knickers. He'd sniffed out the wetness that had slickened the fabric and was eager to taste. You moved closer and hissed out a pathetic Yeeessss!

Whimpering, you tried to push yourself up on your elbows. Your shoulders hit some hard, cool clay and the back of your head scraped more of the rough rock there. He was suckling like a thirsty calf, drawing the fabric of your knickers into the heat of his mouth along with your long, throbbing clit beneath. The suction was strong, unrelenting, almost painful.

“H-hey, hey! Easy, partner!” Your thighs involuntarily snapped around his head, but he was undeterred. You shoved your hands against his brow, trying to get him to release.

“Please!” You were relieved when he finally did, but it was only for some adjustments. The brute drew his hands beneath your legs and dragged you further into the shadow so he could keep his meal all to himself.

His mouth attacked you again and you wriggled and writhed. Your own breath matched his labored huffs. You bit chunks out of your sense of morality while you bit your lip. With a shaking hand, you brought your clawed fingers to your crotch. His thick tongue grazed your knuckles as you worked to tug the fabric aside and reveal your dark, generous lips, and generously engorged clit beneath. He immediately took what you revealed to him, going from hungry to downright glutenous. You couldn't tell if the additional wetness you felt was from your own cyprine or slobber on his chin.

XIV.

“GOD!! Who are you?! What is your name?” Now was not the time to be asking these sorts of questions, but again, you did say you were a silly woman. You gritted your teeth to attempt to contain your cries. He didn't respond at first. The only reply for several deliciously, agonizing moments was the thick, slurping sound of his attention between your legs. This stranger, no demon, was trying to shove his tongue as far up your womanhood as he could, and at this point, he had your loud, keening permission.

“AH! AHH!” Your slapped the hand that wasn't buried in his hair over your mouth again. You couldn't contain yourself. You'd never felt something like this before. You were a maiden who could only daydream, and you weren't sure if you could consider this that, or a nightmare.

“I said!” Your voice cracked and your back arched from the ground as you racketed up to an orgasm. Your voice was weary and hoarse. You were shrieking “what is your name?!”

He still had yet to respond, but if he chose now, you wouldn't have heard him. You came for the first time in your little life ( bless your heart); your mouth stretched wide open, waiting to catch flies. But all you caught was a big, wet kiss.

You could taste yourself. Taste his breath. Your legs were shaking. You were high like you'd been huffing gasoline, so you didn't put up a fight when he lifted you to his chest.

Someone was coming…

He had to take you elsewhere.

The open night sky. The owl judging you both from the whole it ate out a cactus. The earth beneath his feet. The howl of the wind as he ran and you both became a blur.

And you, clinging to his chest:

Belonged to him.

Chapter 1 End

#all might #toshinori yagi #yagi toshinori #writing #DESERT DEVIL

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limitededitionsanderssidesblog · 7 years ago

Text

The Stacks - Chapter 1

Ships: Eventual Prinxiety and Logicality

Summary: In this society there is a place where the poor and unwanted are placed and kept hidden away from everyone else, where poverty and crime are a frequent and life shines for no one. Stacked up high in the sky, this is the furthest anyone living there will ever reach. When a Depression consumes the land, and the government fails to bring an end to it, society turns even further on the residents of the Stacks, accusing them for bringing the rest of them down. What no one knows, however, is that it'll take the work of four unlikely people to not only bring an end to the poverty, but also to this inequality.

AO3 - Here

The early morning sounds of the Stacks always consisted of the same things each day; the beggars would be getting up from their boxes or crates and head into the city, some would stay and beg where they were, and others would instead head for the restaurant district for lunchtime when leftovers from breakfast would be thrown into the trash; gang members would bang on the side of crate doors, demanding the weekly pay for their so called protection; and at least a fight or two would breakout in the dirt streets before the time reached ten o’clock.

However all that early bustle was drown out by the numerous clocks stored in such a small space. The constant ticking was the only peace one could hope to find in this hell. Sitting up slowly from his makeshift bed, a young man with a head of dark black hair and a purple fringe got up to start his daily ritual. Only twenty years in age, life had not been kind to him, although, when had it been ever been kind to anyone here?

The man looked to the hand made wall clocks and watches stored in a cardboard box and peered over them to see which ones where ready to sell. One, two, three… only four of them did he deem in good enough state to be sold. That left five others in need of more parts and material. Gathering the watches up in his hoodie pockets and bringing the cardboard box and a sheet with him, he opened the large door to his crate. Placed on top of the third highest stack in the city he had a tough time climbing down rope ladders and poorly made, rigid stairs, but living on top had its perks, one of being he didn’t have to deal with resident gangs as often.

Running over to the edge of the Stacks the man headed for a transit to take him into the city center; and by transit he meant an older woman who happened to be one of the few here to own a truck and got her money by driving people from the Stacks to the city and back. She had a rigid schedule, and if your didn’t make her set time, you had to walk.

Already waiting there was a oddly bubbly man, dressed in ripped khaki shorts and a light blue polo shirt with a few patches sewn on. How this death hole could have ever produced such a sweet and loving man he'll never know. Looking up to see him running over, he waved his hands eagerly to greet him.

"Morning Virgil!" He greeted brightly as they climbed into the back of the truck.

"Hey, Patton. Sorry I was almost late." The Clockmaker apologized, taking a seat next to him as the truck began to pull away from the stop.

The tuck started down the road moving from the dirt and entering the highway that led directly to the downtown area. Sitting in the very back of the pickup truck, smashed in with ten other people, Virgil watched as the towers of junk became smaller and smaller, dreaming of the day he’d be able to leave them for good.

The Stacks. Its definition might as well mean the end of the road. It was where one would go when when he had nowhere else, no one else, and nothing else. Set up anywhere from fifteen to sixty feet high, abandoned shipping crates, broken down buses, old vans and trucks became home. Safety wasn’t a concern here, and the only way up or down were either climbing or busted up ladders. All walks of life came here. Those who are out of work, those who can’t work, the ones who are rejected by everyone else, and those who were abandoned by everyone else. It was a hot spot for criminal activity due to the lack of care by the authorities. Tucked away on the outskirts of the third largest city in the nation, in the fourth smallest province in the nation, here you were as valued by society as dirt. Coupled along with the New Depression which was sweeping the nation, these stacks kept growing; and not just in this city, but everywhere to. With such a large number of homeless and jobless one would think the government officials would be doing all that they could to fix it, but that’s where you’d be wrong.

Virgil Black had been only seventeen when the Depression first stuck and he had to watch as everything around him fell apart. Any help the officials tried to offer only ended up backfiring and making it worse. He was a hopeful soul back then, believing that hard work would get him out of his situation, but now he knew better. Even if the Depression came to an end, he was never getting out of the Stacks, that was just a fact. His only real skill was making watches, and who had the money to buy those anymore?

Pulling to a stop, the truck arrived five blocks away from downtown, everyone climbed out and headed out for the day before the would return for their only ride home at seven. Except for him though, he had Patton to pick up later.

After a short goodbye the two friends went their separate ways and Virgil set out to the business district, which was the best place to sell his wares. Business men and collectors, and even those who just had extra money to spend were his target audience. He set up shack on the side of a large bank, displaying his watches and clocks on his cardboard box, covered by a sheet to make it look like a table.

Fifteen minutes passed of Virgil calling passers to his 'table' without any luck before a rushed man in a dark blue suit and black rimmed glasses ran up to his table.

“Do you have the time?” He asked, obviously late for something.

“I do,” Virgil replied nonchalantly, trying to act like he wasn't desperate for his money, “For ten bronze.”

The man gave him an incredulous look before begrudgingly pulling out his wallet with a heavy sigh. Virgil gladly took the paper money from the stranger and gestured to the table for him to choose whatever watch he wanted. The man looked down and grabbed the simplest watch on the table, a silver watch with a small roman numeral design and fake black leather band. Checking the time on the clock the man calmed down and gave a curt nod towards Virgil, heading on his way.

Virgil watched him go for a moment, before turning back to the crowd, searching through the faces to spot anyone who looked like they had too much cash. Before long Virgil sold a brass wall clock for fifteen bronze too another sucker who go caught in his web.

…

Walking through the busy streets of the city center Logan Winchester walked up the steps of the head police precinct. He had called in to meet an old friend of his with what may be some very good news. Looking to the new watch he hadn’t been expecting to buy today, he saw that he was still five minutes early. Interesting… did he walk here from that stand in under a minute?

“Logan!” A loud and boisterous voice called from one of the many cubicles, drawing his attention away from the accessory.

“That’s Senator Winchester to you now.” He said to him as he walked over to meet him. “It’s good to see you, Roman.”

“Of course it is.” Roman smirked as he flexed pretentiously, “I haven’t seen you since you were elected last year.”

“Yes, well, I’ve been kept busy by work as of late.” Logan stated to his friend since college. “And that is precisely why I came here.”

The smirk on Roman’s face began to fall away as confusion over took his expression, not understanding what he mean. Logan gestures for him to follow after him as he walks away to a quiet corner where they could talk without being eavesdropped on. Once there, Logan reached into his briefcase and pulled out a file and handed in over to Roman. When he looked in all he saw was his, rather impressive, track record, and the record of what he assumed was one of Logan's subordinates.

“I’m losing faith in my head of security. They were very loyal to the last senator, who had vastly different ideas from I. I am in need of someone I can put faith in to help me lower the crime rates in the province.”

Roman looked through the records, which had appeared to have been thoroughly marked up and read through. He stared at his friend in a mix of shock and excitement. He had always hoped for a promotion sometime, but he was expecting something like deputy chief. This was completely beyond what he had ever hoped for.

“Are you asking me what I think you are?” He asked with a childlike glee. Logan gave a small chuckle. Roman's youthful mind and tenacity was just what he was looking for to help him fix the society's state.

“Indeed, Roman. Will you become my new head of security?”

“YES!” Roman shouted before quickly covering his mouth, “I mean, I’d be honored... Senator Winchester.”

“That was a joke, please don’t call me that.”

In anticipation that Roman would run around proclaiming his promotion to the entire faculty and maybe even the whole city, Logan explained in detail all the necessary steps he’d have to take before he could take office. Most of the procedure had already been taken care of, but it would still be one to two weeks before Roman would officially be the new head of security. Roman nodded along as Logan explained these things to him, yet he couldn’t stop bouncing in his seat like a kid who had eaten too much sweets. Seeing that he wasn’t really paying attention to the instructions, Logan sighed and decided to change the subject.

“How about an early lunch? I’ll treat you to it.” Logan offered, standing back up the bench.

“Sounds good, but I wouldn’t say it’d be early. It’s fifteen ‘till noon.” Roman responded, pointing to the plain clock above the main doors.

“Wait, but I thought-” Logan looked down at his watch and saw that the arms haven’t moved since it’s purchase, meaning he had been late all along. Moving the dial on the side Logan set it to the correct time before clicking it down, setting the arms in motion. “He didn’t set it.”

“Who didn’t?” Roman asked, standing up and taking a look at the watch on his friend's wrist. “Where’d you get that?”

“A merchant on the street sold it to me for ten bronze when I asked for the time.” Logan recalled to the, hopefully, soon to be former police officer.

“Ten bronze?! That’s worth more like five!” Roman exclaimed, becoming angered at the fact that Logan was swindled by a street rat.

“Come now, It wasn’t too much. At least he didn’t go as far ask to ask for ten silver.” Logan said as he led them out the large, double doors of the precinct and down the street to the tram station to take them to lunch.

“First, that’s a horrible comparison, and second you don’t know if he even had a license to sell that! It could have been stolen merchandise for all you know-”

“Roman.”

“Now a hooligan is on the loose in the streets practically stealing from people-”

“Roman!”

“And selling black market watches on the block to poor innocent workers and using the money to do who knows what-”

“Roman!” Logan grabbed his shoulder, finally shutting him up from his rambling, and pointed over across the street at a lone man in a patchwork hoodie handing a pocket watch over to an old woman. “He’s right there.”

Roman turned his head in the direction of his hand and saw the despicable man in action, clipping the probably fake gold chain onto the woman’s coat and handing the hand held clock over, greedily taking the money from an innocent.

“Well then we have to stop him!” Roman declared as he ran across the street through traffic without a second thought.

“Roman wait!” Logan shouted after him but fell on deaf ears. Letting out a groan, Logan ran ran over to the nearest crosswalk and hurried to catch up with the man before he got too reckless and did something stupid. 'Why did I choose him, again?' He questioned in his head.

Roman dodge the bustling cars on the road and the swarming people on the sidewalk gracefully and bolted for the stand, slowing himself down as he got closer. Soon enough he was calmly walking up to the watch man, feigning interest in buying.

“How much are these may I ask?” He asked with false curiosity, picking up the only watch left to look at it closer. It was strangely nice looking, nicer than the one Logan bought, definitely not worth ten bronze though. But it didn’t look stolen, if it was it’d be worth more, homemade maybe?

“Twenty bronze.” The man said from his seat of the city bank steps.

“Twenty?” Roman echoed, raising his eyebrow. ‘That more that what had cost Logan.’ “Surly this is worth much less?”

“Welp, times are tough, gotta buy bread somehow.” The man shrugged, obviously ignorant of who he was talking to.

Roman eyed him up a down with a grimace, looking over his so called stand, that he could tell was actually just a box. There is no way what this man doing was legal, and even if it was, it's obvious that this man is from the Stacks, which means he must be up to no good.

“Well, I hope you wouldn’t mind showing me you’re papers?” He asked cockily, whipping out his badge from his inside coat pocket and practically shoving it in the man’s face. Instantly the guy lost his relaxed composure and sat up straight, eyes widening to the size of dinner plates, panic evident all over his face. The shit grin on Roman wore only grew bigger at the man’s frightened reaction. Cat's out of the bag. “I’m guessing that’s a no, then?”

Roman reached behind back for the spare pair of handcuffs, hidden by the tail of his coat, that he always kept on hand, but was instead met with a smack in the face as the man hastily stood up and threw the entire stand in his face before making his get away. Roman tried to get up to go after him but ended up getting the sheet stuck on his head. By the time he finally got the damn thing off his head the crook was long gone, escaping into the thick crowd.

The low, clearing cough behind him made Roman jump and spin around. Logan stood there with his arm crossed and his eyebrow raised, looking expectantly for a good excuse.

“You’re not gonna change your mind, right?”

…

The kitchen had always been a hectic place for a chef, with hectic customers and fast paced orders it was a high stress inducing environment. However to him it was a second home. Even though Patton wasn’t technically a chef, he did know how to cook. His mother had overworked herself most of his life and ended up falling ill when he was ten, so he had to take over the cleaning and cooking duties. He became really good at it overtime and his mother even said he’d be able to become a high end chef one day. So that’s what he worked towards over the next fifteen years. Yet, despite his skill, his background just wasn’t impressive enough to get him the position, so he settled for garbage boy instead.

Even if it wasn’t his dream job, it was close enough, as long as he was in a kitchen he’d be happy. He still got to use the kitchen after he finished his shift to bring food back home to his friends and family, even though the trade off to do so was a percentage out of his paycheck.

Speaking of, his shift should be over in a few minutes, he should start preparing the food. What should he make tonight? There were a lot of tomatoes, peppers, and cheese leftover, he could make stuffed peppers!

“Clean these stack rat.” A voice, accompanied by a tub full of dirty plates commanded. It was the sou chef Nathaniel Briggs, one of his superiors, and not the only one in this kitchen who didn’t want him here.

“I’m sorry Briggs, but my shift just ended.” Patton tried to tell him but was quickly silenced.

“And you were just about to dirty our kitchen with your filthy paws! The very least you could do is clean these dishes!” Patton shrunk back and nodded, gingerly taking the dishes from him and placing them in the sink. “Oh, and don’t forget to lock up for me.” Nathaniel told him as he left him alone in the kitchen.

This wasn’t the first time one of the chefs forced him to do their work. It wasn’t a secret that almost the entire staff hated him either. Everyone at the Pájaro Rico were either high end or upper mid end, Patton was the only one there who came from the Stacks. He didn’t let it bother him too much though, even if he isn’t payed of treated equally, his mother was a proud Stacker, and so was he.

On the dot as usual, the back door to the restaurant was opened and in came fellow Stacker and Patton’s best friend, Virgil. Virgil would always accompany him home, since he could never make it in time to catch Silvia’s truck transit. Although it looked like Virgil would have to wait a little longer tonight.

“You doing Nathaniel’s work again, huh?” He asked rhetorically as he walked up. Patton nodded sadly, not looking up since he already knew what face he was making. It was the one he always made when anyone treated them bad because of their status as Stackers. “Common I’ll clean, you cook.”

“If my boss thinks I’m not working he’ll get upset.” Patton murmured, rinsing off a plate and setting it in the drying rack.

“You got of twenty minutes ago Pat, this is work without pay, let me do it.” Virgil shot back and took patton’s hands out of the soapy water and replaced them with his. “The only thing you should be working on is a nice hot meal for everyone back home.”

Patton grinned at him and let out a soft giggle, conceding to Virgil’s wishes and getting to work on what he had planned. Patton went over to the tub of unused, half used, or messed up dishes to see what he could salvage before they were thrown away. Some lettuce leafs, a couple of diced tomatoes, some poorly cut orange peppers and a bit of sour cream. Patton smiled brightly at what he was able to save and began to prep the peppers and dice the lettuce. By the time Virgil had finished washing, Patton had finished and slid the stuffed peppers into the oven to cook for ten minutes. When those ten minutes were up, the dishes were put away and the peppers were placed in to-go boxes. With a final sweep of the place, Patton locked up the place then headed out.

“So how did sales go today?” Patton asked as they walked down to the tram station. The tram didn’t go all the way out to the Stacks and cost a lot more than Silvia’s truck, but it was there only option this late at night.

“Less and less people are buying these days." Virgil sighed in defeat, "It seems like the Depression is starting to reach the upper mid end, before long the entire nations gonna go to shi- crap.” Virgil confided in him, correcting himself when Patton gave him that glare.

“I’m sure prosperity is just around the corner! Look at us, were doing just fine.” Patton said brightly, trying to be optimistic.

“We live in the Stack, Pat.” Virgil stated plainly, distaste evident in his words.

“And what’s wrong with that?” Patton asked seriously, challenging him. Virgil stayed quiet and bought his ticket from the machine before getting on. The air was thick with that question looming over their heads, quieting their conversation.

Looking out the window Patton saw the large silhouettes of crudely assembled towers that he had been born and raised in. While he was not ashamed of his background, he could not deny that it was not a place any child should be raised. The danger and impoverishment all told the same story for all who lived there.

Desperation.

Lol a random fic idea came to me out of nowhere and I had to write it. Please tell me it’s good?

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #sanders sides virgil #anxiety sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides roman #princey sanders #patton sanders #sanders sides patton #morality sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides logan #logic sanders #sanders sides fic #prinxiety #logicality

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