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wrathandgreed · 5 years ago

Text

A crafty MC making goodbye gifts for the demon bros (unromanced and romanced).

Word count: 3.5k

Notes: I’m a huge crafter (knitter, crocheter, spinner, weaver, cross stitcher, etc) and I’m currently knitting my husband a winter hat, so I started trying to figure out what a crafty MC would make the brothers as goodbye gifts when they go back to the human world.

Also, this got REALLY REALLY long.

Lucifer

(Unromanced)

This guy is hard to make stuff for.

His aesthetic is VERY tight and leaves no room for mistakes

So a simple winter scarf, in business-black, is probably the way to go.

Somewhat lux yarn, cashmere/silk or alpaca/silk, so it has a sheen

He travels to the human world sometimes, and Diavolo has winter themed events in Devildom sometimes, so a scarf isn’t totally impractical.

He would appreciate the amount of time you spent making it, even if he didn’t get a chance to wear it that often.

(Romanced)

Let’s get more personal, now. You still have the same problem with his aesthetic, and the fact that if you want to give him something ~~personal~~ he won’t be able to wear it openly. His pride says no.

He’s stern in public, but affectionate in private.

You knit a medium-sized decorative pillow cover for his bed, in his signature wine-red.

It’s simple and elegant and can sit on his bed like it’s something he picked up in a Hellhome Goods store, and only *he* knows it’s a private gift.

After swearing him to secrecy, you get Solomon to help you charm the pillow, so it never pills up or wears out, and it maintains your scent forever. (Actually, it’s fair to say you do this for all of the romanced gifts).

“I thought, you know, if I can’t be there with you every night, something of me can?”

Awkward MC is awkward.

He not only appreciates how much time went into the gift (who knows how busy you are better than Lucifer?) but that you spent that much time thinking about him.

Mr. Acts of Service over here. Every stitch is something you did *for him*

You assume he’ll just leave it on the bed, and maybe, if you’re lucky, it’ll help you be the last thing he thinks of at night and the first thing he thinks of in the morning.

Maybe he’ll smile when he sees it, and some of his weariness will lift.

Oh, if only you knew.

Mr. “Stern In Public” wraps himself around the pillow every night. Well. Every time he manages to sleep. Which, let’s face it, isn’t every night.

But when he DOES sleep, it’s with that pillow. If he can’t sleep wrapped around you, this will have to suffice.

Finds he doesn’t sleep well when he travels, because he refuses to bring the pillow with him.

If asked, he says it’s because it’s not important.

But he just doesn’t want to lose it.

It’s too important to him.

Mammon

(Unromanced)

You’ve seen this boy’s room.

You’re not spending hours and hours and tons of money making him something.

You love the guy, but you’ve seen how he takes care of his possessions.

Most of what he owns is chucked aside when the next new-shiny comes along.

You know he loves you to bits and he’ll be careful with whatever you give him.

But “careful” has a different definition for Mammon than for some of the others.

So you knit him a hat. A trendy, slightly-too-small hat in black with a small yellow stripe on the brim.

You can use some lux yarn because, for a single-skein project, investing in cashmere or mohair or something isn’t too awful.

It looks really great on him - the fluff of his white hair, the small yellow stripe, then the wash of black as contrast. It makes his eyes pop and his skin look even warmer.

He wears it to a shoot one day and the photographer loves it

Now everyone wants one

But he has the only one because it’s handmade

Suck it, losers!

The Avatar of Greed finally has something everyone else wants that no one else can get!

(Romanced)

Yeah, you’ve seen his room. You’ve practically lived in his room. But you know he’ll be careful with anything you give him because he loves you.

It would break his heart to have to ask you to fix something you made for him.

You know he’s going to suffer when you leave

You want him to know that you’re always there, even if you’re not *there*

So you knit him a sweater

A big, oversized sweater out of super soft chunky wool with tons of texture.

You finish it early so you can wear it around your room for a few weeks. On the rare nights you sleep alone, you sleep in it.

Again, get Solomon to enchant it.

Now it smells like you.

You wouldn’t notice, but a demon’s sense of smell is far stronger.

“I know it’s not, like, fashionable or anything. But it’s comfy and it can be…..a portable hug?”

His face turns red and he winds up stammering. Obviously. So he puts it on to avoid having to look at you.

Chucks it on over his tshirt. He immediately pulls the neckband back up over his face to take a deep inhale from the fabric.

He looks really cute in it

(He looks really cute in anything, let’s face it)

Might start crying.

Hug him pls.

Any night he feels lonely (which is most nights) he wears this sweater. Falls asleep in it half the time.

It really is like a hug, and the boy needs all the hugs he can get.

Leviathan

(Unromanced)

Out of all the brothers, Levi is the one who will appreciate STUFF. No matter what you make for him, he’ll love it.

It’s limited edition! No one else has anything like this!

So this boy is getting crocheted plushies.

(They’re called amigurumi, and he’ll appreciate knowing that)

You make a mobile for his room

Hanging from it are little plushies of all his favorite sea creatures

Henry 2.0 is the biggest

But there’s a few jellyfish

A whale

You had to completely invent a pattern for a kraken, and it came out okay!

You had some extra yarn, so you made a few extra jellyfish

They get suction cups.

Now he has jellyfish in his tanks and outside his tanks

Spends the next hour rigging up the mobile over his tub so he can see them before he goes to sleep and remember how much his true friend cares about him.

(Romanced)

This took….time to make.

You had to basically invent two patterns from scratch

There was a LOT of frogging.

And swearing.

When Levi opens the box and pulls aside the tissue paper, there’s two crocheted figures

One of each of you

(The one of you may or may not be dressed as Ruri-Chan)

“You made these…..for me?”

Tell him you made ONE of them for him. You take the one of him and hug it, “This one comes with me. So I’ve still got you.”

(Don’t let him cry!)

(Too late)

Then you show him the best part - each figure has a magnet in one hand.

When they get close to each other, the magnets snap together and the figures hold hands :)

Even though the two amigurumi will be in two separate realms, those magnets will want to find their partner.

Levi is floored - this is just like something out of an anime! Like two halves of a locket or something!

He can’t even find words. Possibly not for the next hour or two.

But he makes the cutest little squeaks and the verbal equivalent of keysmashes.

Like Lucifer, he sleeps with your gift. But he also carries it around his room. It has pride of place on his desk, and he purchases a stand so you can sit with him while he games or does his online schooling.

He talks to it like he would talk to you, especially on busy days when you can’t actually��talk to him on the D.D.D.

It eases the feeling that you left Devildom and forgot about him. Eases - just a little - the jealousy of every human in your world who gets to talk to you. Because none of THEM have a handmade you. Just him.

Satan

(Unromanced)

This guy is either the easiest one to make for, or the hardest.

Like, you could make him a stuffed kitty. Or knit him a tie. But he’s not a super sentimental guy (unless romanced) and, in the end, that’s just stuff. His room is FULL of stuff.

Soooooo, you take out your sewing skills and sew him a traditional Sherlock hat - the deerstalker one, the one that never was actually in the books, but is still associated with the character.

The most straightforward of the brothers, Satan is indeed touched that you spent so long making something for him and he tells you so.

Insists he’ll wear it when solving mysteries.

You laugh, but he actually does wear the hat when reading mysteries now.

It reminds him of the trip to London - how he got to solve an actual mystery, save his brother, and see the sites with his friend.

(Romanced)

YouTube made it look so easy.

It’s just paper, right? Paper and thread and a needle. You can sew clothes and stuffed animals. How hard can it be to sew together pages to make a book?

Oh, my sweet summer child.

You considered actually pulping and making your own paper, but after the seventh ruined batch of signatures you’re grateful you talked yourself out of that one.

You also considered an actual leather binding, but go for boards and a more simple Japanese sewing technique.

This project is the perfect thing to give to Satan - not just because it’s a book, but because making it is causing you SO MUCH RAGE.

Who needs firewood when you have the ruined attempts of your gift?

You may have thrown various attempts on the floor and stomped on them before chucking them in the fire.

It takes weeks but you finally get the book together. Now the REAL work can begin.

Every book the two of you read together. Every book you discussed. Every book you recommended to him. Every single one gets a page - a title, a date, and a discussion of your discussion of the book.

The book itself becomes a tour through your growing relationship.

While not as stern as Lucifer in public, Satan is also definitely fond in private - he’s completely unsurprised to receive a book as a present, but once he begins leafing through it, the semi-smug smile vanishes.

He looks shocked, and his hold on the book gentles.

His fingers run down the page, tracing your handwriting on a page particularly precious to him.

Speechless for a few minutes, he finally returns with only “I love it.”

Said so softly and sincerely that you can’t doubt his sincerity.

There are blank pages at the end and he begins to use them to document newer books he’s reading - ones he wants to discuss with you later.

Asmodeus

(Unromanced)

Good luck keeping your gift a secret!

Asmo loves craft and crafty things, so he’s always curious about what you’re making and fascinated with the process.

Probably helps with suggestions for the others, especially for a romanced brother (although WHAT you see in them is beyond him, after all, what can THEY have that Asmo doesn’t?)

Because he seems to pop up out of nowhere, he’s already seen his gift a few times. Thankfully, he thinks you’re making it for yourself.

Bonus, he’s whiny and jealous about it, and obviously wants it for himself. So, score. You know he’ll like it.

It seems simple; a pair of fingerless gloves in his signature hot pink. But the yarn is mohair lace (you’ve cursed at it many, many times for tangling on you) held double with merino/silk black yarn.

The gloves are lacy and airy, sensual and soft. They feel wonderful to wear, and look great with a majority of his outfits.

He absolutely squeals and hugs you when he opens up the gift - the gift he was so jealous of! Of COURSE you were making it for him this whole time!

Wears them constantly. His Devilgram pics start having a lot of “what am I holding?” themes. Cups of coffee or hot chocolate. Someone else’s hand. A ticket for an absolutely fabulous play. And a LOT of peace signs and finger-hearts :)

(Romanced)

This one requires the cooperation - willing or not - of everyone in the house.

You start with your DDD. That’s easy enough.

Since you’ll need Sol’s help anyway, it’s easy enough to plunder the pictures on his phone, too.

The rest of the brothers you get, one by one. Belphie’s you steal while he’s sleeping, although you found nothing useful on it. Beel just lets you borrow his phone. You ask to borrow Mammon’s while he’s gambling and he doesn’t notice that it takes you an hour to give it back. Satan - the real photographer - must be taken into your confidence - you might need his help later anyway. But he’s particularly close to Asmo, and knows how to keep his mouth shut.

You stalk Lucifer for a few weeks. You ask Satan for advice. You consider asking Diavolo to just order Lucifer to hand over his phone.

Finally you just ask him for it.

Getting a hold of Asmo’s phone is the hardest bit. You have to wait until he’s deep in a spa day, hanging around in his tub with both a sheet mask AND cucumber slices.

Then you make off with his phone. And go through the photos.

His wonderful Devilgram-worthy pictures you ignore. You start looking for the ones that he rejected, but kept. The one where both of you cracked up laughing right before the photo snapped. The one where he dropped his hot chocolate and then stole yours.

The two of you in clay face masks and toe spacers? Yep. The one you took of him with super-wide eyes as he put on mascara? Definitely. Selfies of you two surrounded by his brothers, by Sol, by Simeon, even a few with Luke.

The one Satan took of the two of you dancing at one of Diavolo’s balls, so lost in each other that the rest of the ball might as well not exist? Of course.

You combine them with the ones taken by everyone else in the house.

Culling them for the best takes weeks. Because you don’t just want the ~~prettiest~~ pictures or the ones designed for social media.

You pick the ones with emotional meaning, ones of important events, but mostly you choose pictures of genuine laughter and affection. Ones that show how much the two of you love each other, and how much true friendship exists in the house.

How much he’s not alone, and how much he is loved. How much the people around him appreciate him.

With Satan and Solomon, you gather and enchant a simple glass cube.

It displays these photos, gently lit up, like the digital picture frames in the human world.

“I want you to remember me,” you say quietly. “I want you to remember how much fun we’ve had, and how much I love you for you.”

Not gonna lie, Asmo cries.

The cube moves around his rooms depending on where he is - it’s by his tub if he’s taking a bath. It’s on his vanity when he’s putting on his makeup. He credits it with helping his relaxation and makeup game.

It’s always on a nightstand by his bed before he goes to sleep. Sometimes he just lays on his back, puts the cube on his stomach, and watches memories float through it.

What you wanted - for him to remember that he’s loved for more than his sexual prowess - comes true. The pictures remind him of the life he has outside of a bedroom.

He starts spending more time with his brothers. He starts taking more pictures.

His followers appreciate the diversification in his content :)

He appreciates how much you love getting texts of those photos - the not-social-media-ready ones, but the REAL ones.

Beelzebub

(Unromanced)

I mean, you could just bake the guy a dozen cakes.

But then he’d eat them and they’d be gone.

And you can’t make him anything that looks like food, because he’d eat it.

You’ve finished your gifts for half of the brothers before you even figure out what to make for him.

And then it comes to you…..socks.

He’ll use them.

He won’t eat them.

They’re not the most interesting gift, but you’re running out of time.

You actually manage to find a pattern covered with colorwork triangles that mimic his usual shirt.

You get Satan to charm them for you - the problem with handmade socks is that they wear out FAST. Not anymore!

Beel LOVES them.

(To be fair, he’d probably love anything you gave him)

Once he knows they won’t wear out, they become his Game Socks.

Like most athletes, he becomes superstitiously obsessed with the socks, wearing them for absolutely every game he plays.

Is convinced they help him win.

(Romanced)

You encounter basically the same problem as above - what on earth to make him?

You want something that reminds him how much you love him, and it absolutely can’t be anything he could even be tempted to eat, because he’d never forgive himself.

You try a number of times to build a small tapestry loom, but that skill seems to be beyond you.

Finally you have to beg Lucifer to pick one up for you in the human world.

Once you get it, you’re off and running.

Now, just because things can’t look like food doesn’t mean it can’t be inspired by it.

Red yarn, the exact juicy red of an apple - but here, just an abstract circle. Mixes of pale cream, yellow, and red in a triangle - an abstract pizza slice.

Those cookies Barbatos makes? There. The broccoli-cheddar soup you learned to make for her? Now just an orange blob with tiny green squiggles. And on, and on.

And buried, scattered throughout, little woven hearts.

The hearts are made of slightly different yarn, puffier and thicker, so they stand out just a little bit.

In the end, you have a decent-sized wall hanging, full of texture and shapes that are just reminiscent enough of food to bring a smile to Beel’s face, but not enough to actually be worth eating.

He passes the hanging every day, and every day he brushes his fingers over the yarn or through the fringe; a physical reminder of you.

Belphegor

(Unromanced)

This guy is probably the easiest one to make things for.

Is it soft? Is it cuddly? Can he use it as a pillow? Can he snuggle it like a stuffed animal?

Click “yes” on any of those questions, and you have a happy - well, a slightly less annoyed - Belphie.

Which is why you take this as a challenge. The easy answer - a pillow - is BORING. And the other easy answer - a blanket - would take WAY too much time.

So, like Levi, he gets a plushie.

But not just any plushie.

He gets a plushie of Lucifer.

Lucifer…..on a pastel unicorn.

Belphie starts cackling the moment he opens it, which is fair, because you laughed a fair bit designing and making it.

He starts leaving it where Lucifer can find it, then saying that the elder can’t do anything about it, because MC made it and there’s no way he’d want to harm anything made by MC.

Satan tries to steal it.

In the end, an “anonymous” Devilgram is created, dedicated to the “adventures” of this particular plushie.

It’s all fun and games until Diavolo wants one.

(Romanced)

Well, for your boyfriend, the time and effort involved in making a blanket is just fine.

You debate endlessly - comprehensive color scheme? Granny squares or stripes? How heavy?

You go with your gut instinct - this isn’t a boy who cares about color schemes or blanket styles.

(Just look at his clothes, seriously.)

He cares about one thing - comfort.

You find the softest, smushiest yarn you can, and a pattern you can tolerate working on for like 100 hours.

You go old-school; a granny square blanket like the ones that pretty much every person had thrown over the couch in the 70s and 80s. The perfect nap blanket.

Black… mostly black, with some bright accent colors. Kind of obnoxious accent colors, actually. You figure it’ll appeal to his (dubious) sense of humor. Also it’ll piss Lucifer off seeing it around the house, clashing with literally everything in the oh-so-perfectly-decorated Gothic interior.

This one requires….special enchantment.

A little bit of ritual, and that blanket will fold up into a tiny square; easy to carry from place to place.

Belphie is torn between wanting to carry it around everywhere, like his pillow, and to leave it in the attic room, always waiting for him.

Depending on his mood, he’ll do one or the other.

But no matter what, he also sleeps juuuust a little bit better under it, snuggled up under your love.

You make him the Lucifer plushie, too. It’s too funny not to :)

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onwesterlywinds · 4 years ago

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The Body Fragile Yields

Part of my Godhands series, set roughly in the year 1544 of the Sixth Astral Era - thirty-three years before Hydaelyn’s present-day, and thirteen years before Ala Mhigo’s fall.

Content warning for sexual assault and body horror.

GODHANDS IS NOW ON AO3! If you like it, send over some kudos!

Once, in the early days of her service to the crown and only some few moons after her father's death, Sigrid had been sent out to attend to Theodoric and Hrodric on a stroll through Queen Edila's gardens. Theodoric came across a dead marmot and at once took a stick to it. He poked it over and over again until its half-scavenged, half-decayed innards collapsed into themselves and spilled out over the earth. That single act of violence loosed a stench so foul that Hrodric went running; even Sigrid had to cover her face and recoil from it. That memory was one of the very few of her own that would overcome her once the vera root took hold, though it came more as a dream than a recollection: it seized her whether or not she wished it to, usually whenever Blackram seized her in kind.

***

"It's alright," Blackram whispered, again and again, as his blackened hand moved across her skin, as his body moved over top of her body. He could not reach her when she was like this, not truly, but her distress was an agony for how deeply it had taken root in him. If he could not soothe her, he would soothe himself, and he would speak to her as he did not ever need to when they were truly one.

Each time the primal's influence waned, they spent at least a week abed while they shook off the mantle of divinity and regained some semblance of their selves. It was a harrowing process made somewhat less so by the warmth of Sigrid's body lying next to his, and the persistence of their bond, and the knowledge that their suffering would soon be at an end.

***

His given name, she divined from their pervasive mental thread, was Grimms. It was not that he disliked the name for any reason; he simply doubted whether or not he was worthy of claiming it. Every woman and man who had spoken his name aloud had met a brutal end, and rarely ever by his own hand, as if the Undercity itself could expunge any trace of it on a whim. As such, he preferred Blackram, the title of his own making, at least until he could pass it on to a deserving heir.

***

Ashley. Their heir could only be Ashley, and yet this conviction invariably brought them pain twinned with pride. Sigrid would weep from it, no matter how much vera tonic she'd imbibed, and the prospect of Brynhilde's son as her son - their son - brought forth in him her visceral grief and guilt, as debilitating as their shared sickness. Of all he had done to secure the Undercity, to remake it on Sigrid's behalf, he could not yet fathom what it would mean to bring Ashley into their fold: in fulfilling his own destiny, in treating with the power of the gods, would he condemn his only scion to this same hell?

Only the Ascian would know.

***

Some days, when he needed solitude but ached for her closeness, Blackram would carry her on his arm to a spot deeper still than the catacombs: a placid saline lake where snowflies gathered to flit above the surface if the air was warm. While there, he would release her for some few moments to tend to his own musings, and she would run her toes along the smoothed rocks that comprised the banks until her last dregs of energy were spent and her legs would heed her no more.

It was akin to how the Saltery had found Blackram's mother so long ago, floating face-up and stone-cold in the shallows of Loch Seld. In life, the lot of them had called her a banshee - one of the beings that haunted the valleys with their wailing lamentations since long before the flood - and even as they hauled her corpse from the water, her hair and lips and lashes crusted with salt, they handled her with far more caution than reverence.

***

The Undercity was deep in the throes of winter, and only the salt of the lake kept it from freezing over so far beneath the earth; the snowflies were well into hibernation for the year and would not return for another few moons at best. The cold settled itself upon every ilm of stone like a fine shroud, brutal to bear without the warmth of their bed, and the bite in his boots intensified as Sigrid stretched out her own feet into the frigid, numbing depths.

Through it all, his dead hand ached worse than ever.

"You're late," drawled the red-masked figure.

***

No matter how deeply the vera root infringed upon her consciousness, no matter how low she had sunk into vague scenes from her memories or Blackram's, that voice had a way of cutting through the debility, the cold, the fear. Half the time it did not sound like Common, let alone any other language she had ever heard, and yet she understood it better than she understood her innermost thoughts.

She would have to simply lose herself, as she had learned to do while chained to the catacomb walls at this voice's behest, while lying futilely on her back, while Blackram whispered over and over that it was alright. She threw her head back to the cavern ceiling and a moan escaped her lips - the first sound she made in longer than she could remember.

***

He had grown used to the Ascian's dramatic entrances. Whoever they were and whatever their origin, they defied every law the Undercity imposed upon its denizens. The passage before him, now only a vague memory of Skalla, was the sort of place no living soul could traverse without leaving some trace of themselves - and yet there his benefactor stood, surveying the clawed tips of their gloves as dark currents from the void swirled around them.

"We've done it," Blackram declared. He was breathing heavily, as though he had run a malm while wracked with fever, all from the strain of having carried Sigrid to her point of rest in the pool. "We've summoned Zalera of our own flesh and survived."

The Ascian gave him an evident once-over from behind their blood-red mask and scoffed. "Albeit the worse for wear."

Blackram gritted his teeth but offered no retort. He would endure the weakness, endure the chills, endure his own dead hand until the primal was to be brought forth again. The only other choice was for him to lie down and die - and if he were to perish with so much left undone, then so too would Sigrid.

"We have fulfilled our end of our bargain, done as you instructed. But I would ask something different of you in exchange."

The Ascian's smile widened, ever the more unsettling for the fact that it was their only visible feature. "Oh?"

"I set my previous terms before Sigrid and I were joined - and now, there is much more at stake than the specifics of my past. I would inquire instead of the future."

"Hmph." They shrugged, rolling out their shoulders. "This could be your only chance for answers - to know of yourself, where you came from, how you came to be. You would deny yourself this knowledge forever?"

If this was a trial, a test of wills, he would overcome it. For Sigrid's sake. "I would."

"Suit yourself - though I must warn you that foresight is not a gift I possess. Nevertheless, I would not have your deeds be met with a reward you deem unfitting. Ask whatever you wish, and if it is within my knowing, I will grant you your answer."

For the briefest of moments, a glimmer of Skallan tilework, as blue as a clear morning, captivated his attention from somewhere off in the darkness. "If our heir should take up the mantle of Zalera in our stead," he began, and found that his question evaded him until only a fatalistic certainty remained. "...He will suffer as we have."

His benefactor did not move. They gave no sign that they were even breathing, let alone listening; when they spoke again, it was in a voice far softer, far more deadly, than any they had used before.

"That is something no one can say. What you have achieved thus far - the binding of two souls in service of a primal - is without precedent for your kind. Whether this mantle can be passed down to another will depend entirely on this boy, and perhaps on what he can learn from you."

And for the first time in longer than Blackram could remember, his gut clenched with stirrings of hope.

"Now, then. If that's all, you'd best return to your lady love. There's no telling what she could get up to unattended, even in her state."

Sigrid would be missing him; she was alone and cold and so distant in body and mind. But he was halfway to the primal's haunt, and he could use the last of his strength to make that journey alone, to gather what he needed with her none the wiser.

"Oh, and Blackram?"

The Ascian was at his flank in an instant, tucked into his blind spot faster than he could blink. He raised his arm to fend off an attack, only for the Ascian to whisper in his ear.

"Your success has also earned you this..."

They did not speak the next words aloud. His father's name fell into his thoughts as though it had been there all along.

***

The knife brought her back to herself. Her hand slipped to the stones at the pool's edge and touched its hilt, and she knew it at once as a gift from Rhalgr or Byregot or Brynhilde. Its blade was rusted along its edge but plenty sharp at the tip, sharp enough to pierce skin, perhaps rupture vital organs. For the first time in moons, she was reminded of her father - not a specific moment in which to lose herself, but the sound of him at work in their home's basement forge, then the smell of his sweat when he'd emerge at the end of the day. The memories stung her all the more for their vagueness, for the reprieve they could not grant her.

And she was alone. Blackram had yet to return for her, though she could sense some decisive purpose driving him deeper into the cavern, much deeper than his talk with the Ascian had required. The vera root was wearing off and her pulse was quickening, and the salt on her tongue tasted of Brynhilde.

She tucked the knife into the band that tied back her hair, though her arms ached to stretch them so, and she prayed the glint or press of it would not alert Blackram when he came to pick her up once more. When at last he reappeared, he lifted her across his unblemished left arm, steady against his shoulder. He whispered words she could not make out, adjusted her headband to cover her eyes, and the knife did not fall. She endured the familiar, troubled movements of his body as he walked them back up to their chambers in the catacombs, where a new horror beckoned.

A swath of red lay across the bedsheets, so violent in its scattering that she retched. She could smell the rot of flesh from him and from everywhere, as overpowering as ever. She backed away from the bed even as Blackram reached for her, shaking her head and trembling all over.

Get away from me. The words would not leave her, no matter how she screamed.

"Sigrid," he whispered. He held more of it in his blackened hand, its perfume overpowering; a bloom of-

Red lilies.

He reached for her but the knife was already in her hand. He reached for her and she stabbed outward until the lilies fell to the stone at their feet. He reached for her until he drew back with a hiss of pain, a shuddering gasp, a gush of blood flowing freely from his side.

He reached for her and held her fast about the waist, stanched his wound with her skin, pressed his dead hand to the base of her spine and bared his soul to hers.

Blackram, bastard son of Titus yae Galvus, summoned Zalera from their agony once more.

#Godhands #Sigrid Keane #Blackram #[SHRIEKS IN ALA MHIGO]

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yoonia · 5 years ago

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❥ What I’m currently working on ❥

I know that I haven’t been around much (or nearly at all) for the past week month because my life has been quite hectic and I needed to take a quick break from everything (and when I say ‘everything’, I actually meant the internet lol)

But I’m still writing, still not stopping. It’s just taking me longer to update on things. Aside from my ongoing series (Blood Moon Rising and About Time), below are a few things that you will see me working on all through this month.

Note: I don’t usually do any taglist on my works, but since it has been quite some time since my last update and I probably won’t be updating things regularly until my life returns to normal, I’m opening a chance for anyone to join my taglist. How to join taglist: reply to this post with your url and which fic you want me to tag you on :)

↳ Title | Show Me Something

↳ Pairings | Jeon Jungkook x reader

↳ Genre | Road Trip!au, Enemy to Lovers!au, First Love!au, Smut, Voyeurism

↳ Summary | He was your first kiss years ago, only to become your first heartbreak the next day. Your life would have been much easier if only you would forget about him and move on, instead of having to see him almost every day because your best friend had fallen in love with his best friend. When your pal had suggested to have a road trip for the final days of summer break before going back to campus, you said yes for a reprieve. Too bad she forgot to tell you about the two extra passengers tagging along.

↳ Ratings | +18 / M for Mature

↳ Note: I know that I have announced this fic since two months ago. I have actually finished it around the designated time of its original posting day, but both me and my beta-reader were not too happy with the final product, so I decided to go back and re-write the parts that I wasn’t happy about. Don’t worry, it’s coming. I’m just not sure when T^T

Current word count: 25k words and adding

[Teaser]

Update: posted!

➬ Title | Bed & Boyfriend(s)

➬ Summary | It was meant to be a simple weekend away with your boyfriend. Inviting his best friends for the ride had sounded like a brilliant, yet an innocent idea just the same. Until the secrets are out and revealed, and the heat from the weekend becomes the sinful flame that may engulf you until you are left into nothing else but sparkles of dust tethering in the blissful wind.

↳ Pairings | Taehyung x reader; Jungkook x Yoongi, Jungkook x reader x Yoongi

↳ Genre | Smut, Polyamory!au

↳ Ratings | +18 / M for Mature

Current word count: 10k words and adding

Update: posted!

➬ Title | All Fervent Manner

➬ Summary | He is a man of class, but also a man with secrets. And he has no qualms in giving you the entire universe if you had asked him to. At least, those are the exact words he had given you then. But as time passes, you cannot help but notice that no matter how fierce he seems to love you, he always appears to be walking on eggshells. Perhaps it is your duty to release him from his binds. If only you just know how.

↳ Pairings | Jimin x reader

↳ Genre | Established Relationship!au, Smut, Angst

↳ Ratings | +18 / M for Mature

Current word count: 4k words and adding 7k words and adding

Update: posted!

➬ Title | A Touch of Fate [from We Are All Dreamers: a drabble]

➬ Summary | You have waited a long time to finally find him, to be united with the one that the universe had chosen for you. Yet what people had failed to tell you is that finding your soulmate is only the first step of everything. Nobody ever had the decent mind of preparing you to go into the next step, to move on from the past and surrendering to the mate bond.

↳ Pairings | Jeon Jungkook x reader

↳ Genre | Soulmate!au, Smut, Angst

↳ Ratings | +18 / M for Mature

Progress: Story mapping

Update: posted!

↳ Title | Blurred Lines

↳ Pairings | Kim Seokjin x reader

↳ Genre | Smut, Sexual Tension!au, Teacher!Jin, Teacher!reader, Tattooed Biker!Jin

↳ Summary | A new place to live, a new job, a new beginning. Six months have passed and everything has been going well for you in starting over. The warm welcome from your students and peers have quickly made you feel at home, yet you still long to have one calm day where you wouldn’t have to walk into the school with a heavy weight on your shoulders and the air thick with tension. Blame it on him—the strict English teacher who keeps giving you cold shoulders no matter how many times you try to play nice. One night out with your girls and a drunken dare ultimately lead you to uncover what he’s been trying to hide. People do say that the quiet ones always keep the biggest secret.

↳ Ratings | +18 / M for Mature

Progress: Story mapping

Update: posted!

➬ Title | Threads

➬ Summary | Life is full of surprises, just like how people are full of secrets. Just when you had thought you have been lucky enough to have your life figured out, life decides to throw you a curve ball when you least expect it. And there is nothing you could do to avoid it, except to hope that you could hold your secrets as tightly as you possibly could before everything blows up into smithereens.

↳ Pairings | Yoongi x reader, Namjoon x reader

↳ Genre | Slice of Life!au, One-sided Love!au Smut, Angst

↳ Ratings | undecided, most possibly +18 / M for Mature

↳ Warning | Sexual tension, mutual pinning, jealousy, will be adding more as I continue working on this one.

↳ Estimated Word count | 4-6k words

Progress: Story mapping; 2k words written

Update: posted!

#misc: fic announcement #misc: work in progress

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onyxiana-is-obsessed · 5 years ago

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Executioner II | Demon!Hitoshi Shinsou x Master!Reader

Hello friends! This is a part two to a server prompt I did last month and it was requested by @owoweeb I hope you like it and I’m very sorry that this is so late! It’s really long so I hope that makes up for it! It skips around a bit, I apologize for that and the ending doesn’t make much sense. Length: 3.2k

Executioner (Part 1)

Summary: It’s been about a month since Hitoshi made a proper pact with you, how is it going? What about that blood thirst of his?

Tag list: @sweetlikepeppermints @shiggi-trash @peachy-yabbay @boku-no-dumbass @happynoodle @neon-tries-writing

Full Name: (y/f/n) Quirk: Summoner; user can create a pact with and summon demons from hell to aid them in battle. Age: 20

It had been about two months since you had made a proper pact with Hitoshi, allowing him to stay with you for as long as you wanted. This also came with a number of other benefits, most notably your ability to actually control Hitoshi. Although he was a very obedient demon, you still needed to learn how to stop him from losing control. You had also decided to attend the adult classes to become a hero while training under your mother to become a better fighter.

Both were tremendously stressful but Hitoshi was by your side the entire time. He was always cooking the best meals, he was able to help with any sparring training, he gave the best massages, and always had a bath ready.

He felt like a godsend, which was ironic since Hitoshi was a demon. He’d made your life easier, better, and you were so happy he’d read your mind that day.

That night was great, you’d never felt so happy and safe before. You and Hitoshi were much closer than before. After that kiss, things seemed to change. You two had made it… kind of official. He didn’t ask you out like a human would, instead, he pledged himself to you for eternity.

He marked you with one that mirrored his, and was right in the middle of your back. It wasn’t just a regular mark, something your mother was sure to point out. It was a love mark. Something that declared you as each others forever.

At first, your mother wasn’t too sure, you two had barely known each other for a month but Hitoshi argued the opposite. Whether or not you loved him, his feelings would remain unchanged. He’d never felt this way about anyone before and he’d been alive for centuries.

Hitoshi was willing to give you time and you’d accepted thinking it was better to wait. But after a little while, you realized you felt the same. Besides, life was short. So why not bind yourself to a demon for the rest of it?

Every romantic act made the mark glow. It brought you both a sense of comfort and warmth. If you ever had a bad day or felt like your mental health wasn’t too great, all you needed was for Hitoshi to hold you. When the mark glowed, it fixed everything. Hitoshi’s arms were often a safe haven.

One you needed right now. It had been a long day with your hero classes, training with your mother, and then work. You were exhausted and everything hurt. The second you were at your door, Hitoshi was opening it.

He helped you out of your jacket and took your purse, putting it to the side. You could already smell the delicious food and smiled to yourself.

“I have a bath ready for you and so is dinner. When you’re done, we’ll eat.” Hitoshi explained as he pulled you into a hug. You wrapped your arms around him and inhaled his particular scent. He smelled so nice.

He took your face in his hands and placed a soft, gentle kiss against your lips. He was always so soft and gentle, something you adored about him.

After, Hitoshi urged you to the bathroom where you took your bath. It was exactly what you needed after such a day. The warm water helped relax your aching muscles, while the light rose scent cleared your mind.

You felt so rejuvenated afterward. You and Hitoshi had dinner together, another thing you loved. Even though he couldn’t really taste human food, he always ate with you.

Finally, it was time for your favorite activity. Cuddling. Hitoshi led you to the bed, letting you lay down first before he joined you. You laid on one wing while the other rested on top, protectively.

Hitoshi arms felt so nice around you and there wasn’t a place that felt safer. Even with such a dangerous demon in your house, you felt at ease. Enough to let yourself drift off. You knew in the morning when you woke up, Hitoshi would be right there.

***

Your eyes opened when the bright sun shone down on your face. You winced at the brightness, frowning a little and holding your hand up to block the rays. You turned around, facing Hitoshi and burying your face in his chest. You wrapped an arm around him and felt his arms tighten around you.

Ever since he came into your life, your mornings were so much brighter. Hitoshi would always be there by your side and this is usually how you’d wake up. Wrapped up in the arms of someone you loved so much.

You looked up to see Hitoshi's closed eyes. His resting face was so cute, he looked so innocent and peaceful, even though he was neither of those. Hitoshi was peaceful in a sense, but being an Executioner demon didn’t help. You and your mother were still trying to figure out what to do there since Hitoshi needed to kill to keep from losing control. The four men he’d killed the first time he’d arrived kept him going so far, but it had been months now.

“You’re staring.” He said, his eyes still closed, making you giggle and snuggle into him further.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You mumbled, kissing his cheek. A smile took over his face as he opened his beautiful lavender eyes and looked down at you.

“Oh? Are you choosing to lie now, master?” That was something a little bit difficult to get used to. Since both of you had an official pact now, he was your servant and you were his master. You preferred he call you by your name, but on rare occasions, he’d call you by your title.

You smiled and turned the other way, burying your face into your pillow with a giggle. Hitoshi only smiled and leaned over your smaller form. His hands were on either side of you, trapping you between himself and the bed. He pushed your hair out of the way and kissed your neck, slowly moving down to your shoulder. The action made your marks glow a dull (f/c) at first before getting brighter for a second.

You giggled and turned around, facing him again, a light blush on your cheeks. He finally leaned down and captured your lips. You weren’t a morning person and Hitoshi knew that, so he always did his best to make every morning great for you.

***

“No, I think you’re supposed to mix the wet ingredients first.” Hitoshi said pointing to the bowl with the milk, butter, eggs, and oil in it. You were currently holding the flour in your hand, ready to pour it into the bowl.

“Oh!” Putting down the flour, you grabbed the whisk and started to mix the ingredients. Today was a rather slow day, something you adored. You had no classes, your mom was busy, and you were off work today and tomorrow. So that meant Hitoshi had all your time today and you had no problems with that.

Currently, you two were baking a cake. You’d been watching some baking shows and suddenly had the urge to bake and decorate. So… here you were. You’d gone out and bought all the supplies you needed, and Hitoshi was more than happy to help.

Both of you were reading a recipe online and although it was pretty straightforward, it seemed harder than you thought it would be. As you mixed the wet ingredients while Hitoshi added the dry ingredients together, doing the same, an idea came to your mind.

“We should make chocolate! Oh! And chocolate-covered strawberries! We still have the big strawberries I bought a while back!” He smiled at your enthusiasm and nodded.

“Anything you want.” As you continued to mix the ingredients, you noticed something odd. Was… Hitoshi shaking? He didn’t get cold, well he was physically cold, but he wasn’t normally cold. Besides, it wasn’t that cold today anyway.

“A-are you ok?” You inquired, pointing to his shaking hand and he nodded, with a smile.

“It’s just something that happens when we’re out here too long. I just need time.”

“I can send you back if it’s too much.” He shook his head, denying your offer.

“Oh, no need. I need to get used to this world anyway. It’s better if I just wait it out.” You nodded, going back to what you were doing. Although, when you thought about it, you’d never seen any of the other demons your mother had shaking like that. But then again, you were young and didn’t remember much. You took his word for it, not wanting to question something that made sense anyway.

As you were mixing the ingredients, Hitoshi picked up some flour on his fingers and smeared it across your cheek. Your eyes widened and you looked at him, seeing his teasing smile. You quickly grabbed some confectioner’s sugar nearby and threw it at Hitoshi. Both of you quickly started throwing all the ingredients at each other, until Hitoshi jumped in front of you, his large wings spreading open.

You paused, your eyes staring at the wings in awe. They were large, longer than him, and pretty strong. You watched as they slowly lowered and wrapped around you, followed by an arm around your waist. Hitoshi tugged you towards him and you smiled at him as his lips came down to press against yours.

He picked you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist. Your hands threaded into his purple locks, giving it a light tug. The mark on your back started glowing and grew warm as the kiss deepened. His hand roamed over your body, sliding down to your thigh and around your hips.

However, the oven beeping made you both pull apart abruptly. You giggled a little as he placed you down on your feet and you ran around the counter to the oven. You pulled the door open while Hitoshi placed the cake pans inside of it, ready to bake them.

Afterward, you two decided to start on the decorations. Since you’d wanted to make the chocolate covered strawberries, Hitoshi heated up the chocolate melts while you washed the strawberries. He also helped prepare the icing for decorating the cake.

You both had lots of fun decorating the cake and even though it didn’t look exactly how you pictured it, you loved it regardless. You and Hitoshi enjoyed the cake and the rest of the day was spent cuddling. Just how you liked it.

~**~

It had happened so fast. One minute you were grabbing what you wanted from the store, the next there was a villain attack. Everyone around you was screaming and running in a panic and you’d frozen up. That’s all it took though. The villain was on you, holding you hostage as the heroes tried to do something. No one was able to do anything, except wait and hear out the villain’s demands. She had plenty of them.

“You know exactly what I want! Move an inch and I’ll tear their pretty little head off!” She threatened, pulling at your hair, making you scream and reach for her hands in an attempt to lower the pressure.

The same fear from that night started spreading to you and tears spilled down your cheeks. You still weren’t strong enough to summon another demon and Hitoshi wasn’t with you. All of this hard work, pushing to try to be a hero, it wouldn’t work out. Yet again, you were helpless in front of a threat. What kind of hero would you ever be?

The hopelessness spread through your being and the determination you had started to fade away. You’d never be a hero. You’d always need someone’s help and you weren’t ever going to achieve anything.

The woman kicked the back of your knee, causing you to fall to your knees as she yanked your hair back. A cry ripped out of your throat, followed by a sob as you met her toxic green eyes.

“A pathetic waste of a human life.” She growled and you didn’t think differently. In fact, you agreed. You felt yourself getting weaker and weaker, before a scream tore your gaze away from hers. Both of you looked in the direction and your eyes widened.

Hitoshi was right there, but he looked nothing like himself. He was terrifying. His eyes were glowing bright pink and he was much paler than you’d ever seen him. Sharp teeth peeked out from his lips and the same red veins stretched around his body, glowing as if they were cracks in his skin. As he walked forward, black energy flowed up from where he’d step.

“Get away from my master.” He threatened, his hands clenched into fists. You’d never seen him like this and it scared you more than the villain.

“Come any closer and I’ll kill them!” The villain warned again, but Hitoshi wasn’t in the mood for listening to anyone, much less some pathetic villain trying to hurt you.

Chains burst out from the ground, wrapping around the villain’s throat and pulling her down violently. The second you got free, you stumbled to your feet, and dashed away from her. Two large swords appeared in Hitoshi’s hand and he disappeared from where he was standing and appeared in front of the villain. He raised his sword to strike the downed villain, however, something tackled him.

You turned to see a very familiar demon fighting Hitoshi. It belonged to your mother and you were silently thanking her. Hitoshi was out of control, you’d never seen him like this and the only answer was his blood thirst. What were you supposed to do?!

“(f/n)!” You heard and looked behind you to see your mother running towards you. You looked between her and Hitoshi before choosing to run to her, instead of your raging demon.

“MOM!” She ran to you and took your hands, pointing to Hitoshi.

“He’s lost control! You must take it back!”

“Wh-what am I supposed to do?!” You cried out, making your mother take your face in her hands.

“Breathe. Calm down. You’re not weak, (f/n). You’ve been training and you’ve been doing so well. Go and control your demon. You’re the master.” Ok, that was ZERO help, but a scream pulled you back and you watched with wide eyes as Hitoshi practically slaughtered your mother’s demon. He turned his attention back to the villain, ready to kill her too.

He was going to kill another villain. You were going to stand by while your quirk KILLED a villain even though you weren’t certified. You knew you had to stop him, if your mother couldn’t, no one else was gonna be any use. That large demon your mother summoned stood no chance against him. So your only option was yourself.

Without thinking, your feet started moving. You could hear your mother and the other heroes calling out to you, but you couldn’t stop. Not only were you already too far towards him, but Hitoshi needed you. You ran to Hitoshi and yes, you were terrified, but you needed to do something.

He was facing away from you as he raised his sword up, reading to kill the villain. He froze when your small arms wrapped around him from behind. Your mother screamed out at the top of her lungs as the heroes pulled her back. She didn’t mean for you to go hug him! He was going to kill you!

“Don’t do it,” you cried, tears sliding down your cheeks, “don’t kill her, Hitoshi.” You weren’t sure what you were doing, all you knew was that you needed to stop him. You needed to stop him before he’d kill a villain. Sure, the villain almost killed you, but you were uncertified and Hitoshi was still part of your quirk.

The only thing you could think of was to kiss that mark of his. You’d done it before, making it glow as it would whenever you two did anything romantic. You watched Hitoshi shiver and almost shy away. It was the most adorable reaction you’d ever gotten out of him… but what would happen now?

He stopped abruptly when the mark on his back started glowing, along with yours. A simple kiss on it and it was glowing brighter than ever. You looked up at him, watching as his wings lost those glowing veins.

The need to kill, the thirst for blood, slowly started to melt away as Hitoshi returned to normal. His eyes were back to their normal lavender, his sharp teeth disappeared, and the anger was gone.

He blinked multiple times, his eyes shooting to the swords in his hands. He had no idea what had happened but he could hear a soft sob behind him. He dropped the swords, causing them to turn to dust as they hit the ground, and turned around. He felt a pang of guilt at your tearful expression. The fear was practically radiating off of you and you backed away, flinching from him when he raised his hands. That hurt even more than the eternal pain he was supposed to feel in hell.

“M-Master?” He called out, softly, causing another sob to escape your lips. He had no idea what had happened, but he was sure it wasn’t good. He looked around, taking in the scene.

You must’ve gotten attacked when you were at the store and accidentally summoned him. Your fear was the last straw and he lost control, letting his rage and blood thirst take over. He could see your mother in the distance, with the same fearful look plastered onto her face, along with the other heroes next to her.

“I-I’m sorry m-master.” He whispered, backing away a bit. He wanted to run, run far away from you and give you all the space you needed. However, he promised to never leave your side until you wanted him gone, and even though you looked terrified, you hadn’t told him to leave.

Hitoshi stood a few feet away before getting down on one knee. His hands were placed on the ground and he bowed his head, like the faithful servant he was.

A hand flew to your mouth at the sight and you looked back at your mother. The fear was gone and a relieved smile had replaced it. You could see how proud she was of you and you felt the same for yourself. You’d done it. You saved the villain and tamed your demon.

“St-stand up.” You said, watching as his head shot up. His eyes met yours and you saw uncertainty behind them, yet he quietly complied. He stood up straight in front of you, ready to hear his punishment. Much to his surprise, you walked towards him and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Wh-what are you doing, (f/n)?” He asked, his arms moving away from you. Weren’t you angry? He’d lost control and almost killed… well who knows what he’d done. He couldn’t remember anything.

“I’m so glad you’re ok. Thank you,” you said, looking up at him, the tears still slipping from your eyes, “thank you for saving me.” His wings came down, wrapping around you and his arms followed suit. He gave you a tight hug, thanking every deity he could for sparring you. For making you strong enough to stop him.

“I’m… glad you’re ok too, ma- (f/n).”

#mha #mha imagines #bnha #bnha imagines #my hero academia #boku no hero x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #shinso hitoshi #hitoshi shinso x reader #mha shinsou #hitoshi shinso imagine #bnha shinso hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi #bnha shinsou #shinsou x reader

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eat0crow · 6 years ago

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Marigolds

Summary:

Marigolds-the flower of the dead. They are used to guide spirits visiting the land of the living.

Marinette is used to weird, she's no stranger to spirits. Even so, she never imagined she would meet her soulmate like this

Chapter 1

“Wow, didn’t think magic girls were actually a thing. Good to know.” Is the first thing Marinette hears after she drops her transformation.

Which makes no sense because Marinette is completely, one hundred and ten percent sure that Tikki was the only living thing in this room with her. She’s careful to check than double-check. The tape she had left along the window had still been intact when she entered it. The powder she dusted her hatch with hadn’t been disturbed.

The only thing out of place is the chill in the air, it’s bone-deep like something leaching the life out of the room. A cold current that makes something in Marinette’s brain tingle. Chat would call it fur rubbed wrong, it’s the closest Marinette can come to describing the sensation.

No one should be in the room with her.

Her identity must be maintained at all costs, she takes precautions to ensure it. None of them have been bypassed.

“Got to say I dig the suit,” the voice says completely indifferent to how she’s tensed. Marinette can’t place it. “It’s a little gaudy sure, but hey we can’t all be the Dark Knight. I get the appeal even, flashy, attention-grabbing, it’s a nice stick.”

Marinette can’t breathe, she’s not sure what exactly to do. The voice is coming from behind her. It was relaxed, casual if a bit hollow, like this was the sort of thing that happened every day.

“Maybe not the safest option. You're like a freaking stop sign. How does that work, like sure the Robin costume is a bold as hell traffic light but that’s the point, you know? Draw away the gunfire so the big bad Bat can swoop in a knock them all on their asses.”

Marinette narrows her eyes. Because while knowledge of the Justice League is expected to some extent. Their world-renowned, it would be hard not to have heard of them with all the earth ending disasters they’ve put a stop to, the lack of knowledge is surprising. Everyone in Paris knows who Ladybug is.

The fact that he doesn’t seem to, it sets off a red flag in Marinette’s mind. One that makes her fingers twitch with nervous energy even though her muscles are locked in place. Frozen over by manic fear.

“It’s funny, you’re acting almost as if you can hear me. I’m not complaining, talking to myself gets boring fast, trust me on that one. Bats isn’t anywhere close to great company.”

Marinette turns. Reclined back on her chaise is a boy. He’s tall, taller than Adrien, probably taller than Luka even, with windswept black hair that falls into his eyes. Eyes that are so blue they’re the first thing she really notices about him. They glow iridescent, demanding attention and focus and….

The next thing she notices just as he opens his mouth again is the blood.

“Wait,” He says slowly, his words tentative. “You can see me, it’s not just the isolation talking here. You can see me.”

The blood dripping down from his matted hair onto the bruises that line his cheeks.

“Am I not supposed to?” Marinette asks, her voice shaky.

The blood bubbling out from fresh burns.

“No,” his voice is just as uncertain. “You really shouldn’t.”

She thinks her reaction is more than justified. Even if her screaming makes the boy pop out of existence and sends her parents racing up the stairs.

Her parents leave her after a few minutes. Buying her excuses of spider, spider I saw the biggest spider under my desk. It had so many legs! without much fuss.

Tikki comes out of her hiding place shortly after they disappear down the stairs. There’s a look in her eyes, one that Marinette’s seen maybe a handful of times in the two years she’s held her Miraculous.

It’s a look that comes with answers. Answers that scare Marinette far more than the questions ever did. The first time Tikki’s eyes glinted like this Marinette transformed for the first time. The last time, Marinette met the guardian and begun training to take his place.

This is the look Tikki gives her when she’s about to be trusted with a secret that changes everything.

She hates this look.

Marinette's still standing in the middle of her room staring vacantly at her chaise. “Tikki who was that.”

“That’s not what you should be asking Marinette,” Tikki says looking at Marinette with a keen eye.

Often enough Tikki will watch Marinette like she’s waiting for something. What that something is, Marinette doubts she truly will ever know, that she’ll even want to know. Maybe it’s due to the magic that binds Tikki to the role of guide, which forces her to needle Marinette into asking the right questions in order to get her half-answers.

Tikki is a god. No matter how kind she is, no matter how much she cares for Marinette, her games are not optional.

Marinette will never be able to refuse Tikki, not after having spent years as her patron.

“I saw him,” Marinette chokes out, “I saw him Tikki.”

“That’s good Marinette, I saw him too.”

“Have you seen him before?”

“No.” Tikki pauses, brushing the hair out of Marinette’s face. “I’ve seen others, yes. But not him.”

“Others, who else-”

Tikki cuts her off with a little tut. “Marinette, you’re still focusing on the wrong question.”

Genies were most likely based on the Kwami. They’re all a fickle bunch, hiding behind double meanings and exact wording. It’s hard to figure out just what question Tikki wants her to ask the right question, the exact right question. She can’t tell her the who the why would be pointless to ask about. Marinette knows Tikki will only answer with something having to do with fate. So what's left is…

She breaks her staring contest with the chaise, turning to meet Tikki’s eyes. “What was he.”

“You’re still not quite there. You, humans, are always a lot of whats depending on the when. I could say child or man or soulmate or-”

This time Marinette is the one to cut Tikki off. “He can’t be my soulmate. You said Ladybugs and Black Cats are always connected.”

“And you are. A lot of Ladybugs find their soulmates outside of their Black Cats. There’s a lot of different ways to be connected Marinette, most people have more than one thread attached to their soul, my bugs especially so. Not all threads are soulmates.”

“What does that make Chat Noir than?” Marinette asks.

“Nothing besides what he is now, soulmates aren’t the end all be all, you know. They’re not the soul the completes you, they’re just the soul that fits best around you. They’re a possibility, your hearts still your own.”

“So even though he’s my soulmate…” Marinette trails off.

“Not is, was,” Tikki says, her voice sad. “That’s the when.”

“Was.” She can feel her throat closing up around her words. “What is he now.”

Even as she asks it, Marinette knows the answer. It’s in the corner of her mind, right along the edge snuggled tightly against secrets like Chat Noir’s identity and the real reason Master Fu has lived nearly two hundred years.

She doesn’t want to put a name to the feeling the boy had stirred in her. She doesn’t want to put a name to what the boy is. She doesn’t want to acknowledge the end of a possibility that never truly started to begin with.

Names have power, it’s why their titles are so important. Once she says it. Once the word claws past the dark barbed parts of her mind and out her mouth there will be no going back.

Tikki has never been afraid to do what Marinette can’t, she’s a spirit after all. Humanity is something she observes and doesn’t understand.

“He is a ghost silly,” Tikki says.

It’s an end, one marked before anything had ever had the chance to begin. It shouldn’t hurt but all the same, Marinette feels a part of her heartache. The part of her that's still so heartbreakingly young wants to cry over how unfair this all this.

The part of her that’s grown up much to fast, faster than anyone should have to, stops her from mourning. Life is not fair, the Kwami have no interest in silly things like that. Fair is a concept that Tikki won’t get.

Fair is something that no one gets.

Marinette doesn’t get any sleep that night either.

Notes:

I really wanted to play with the prompt "when they die your soulmate comes to haunt you" . It had so much potential so while my insides said 15k one-shot my heart said nope we're gonna milk it. I needed to get some multi-chapter practice in any way.

Also because Jason is currently 21 in the canon universe I will say this takes place when he dies, which is 15 according to his death certificate. Marinette is also 15, she's had her Miraculous for 2 years now after receiving it at 13. I feel no guilt in destroying the show's timeline to suit my needs, not when the episodes don't care about continuity.

#maribat #crossover #crow writes #Jason Todd/Marinette Dupain-Cheng #dcu #jason todd #ml #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng

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lgcmanager · 4 years ago

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BAND MISSION 004

SCHEDULE TYPE: TRIMESTER SCHEDULE RESTRICTIONS: Cannot be paired with another trimester schedule, unless stated otherwise

in the early morning of JANUARY 18, BAE MIHI has called a meeting with all of the CURRENT BAND MEMBERS, old and new. the hour is early, but mihi’s early bird personality is showing. she’s lively and animated as she greets each trainee before clapping her hands together to let them know that they’ll get started. “it seems like we just have two new faces joining us this term. welcome to the group!” her hands clap together quickly once again, looking to the others to try to engage them all in doing the same. “i am the head manager of LGC MUSIC and it’s always so lovely to see all of you! there’s nothing really new from the prior term that i need to add. all of you will continue to share one manager for now unless the group grows too big for one person to handle. however, we’ll give you a heads up definitely before that will happen!”

DORMS

“inseong, sookyung; you will soon be moving in with the others if it hasn’t been done yet. there are way fewer people in each room, so i do hope you’ll like the new arrangement!”

SNS

a smile rests on her face as she continues on. “now, SNS ACCOUNTS. gosh, all these rules!” she giggles, “the rules still haven’t changed on that front; you will still be using the sns company accounts for the time being. this may change in the future, but for now, this is the protocol.”

DEBUT CONTRACT

“we’re almost done with the legalities just bear with me here,” she looks back down on her sheet to make sure that she’s covered everything. “hyunbin, your band debut is quickly approaching which means that there are new legal grounds we need to cover. everyone here will receive a NEW CONTRACT that will need to be signed and returned as soon as possible. please get to them as soon as you can if you are very serious about debuting!”

BAND MISSION PART 001-A: JAPANESE LESSONS

her faces drops to a scowl and she sighs. “i have to say, i’m very disappointed guys.” she turns her head towards SUNISA. “last trimester, i asked each and everyone of you to work on your japanese skills. the plan was to send you in japan to experience the indie scene. unfortunately, i have heard that you haven’t even bothered with the workshops. what does this mean?“ she pauses, giving him the time to answer. “well... you see, i found myself in a bind; do i send the remainder of BLACKLIGHT to japan without you, or do i punish you all. i hate to think of this as punishment, but since the start of this, i think i made it clear that unity is important under LGC MUSIC. so i decided to make this a lesson on unity. therefore BLACKLIGHT promotions in japan are postponed unti further ado.” she turns towards the two newcomer, this time with a smile. “the positive is that you guys will be able to catch up with the others and won’t be left behind! for the next trimester, the three of you, INSEONG, SOOKYUNG and SUNISA, must attend japanese lessons with ISHIDA AYANO every morning of the week. i expect that by next trimester the three of you will have reach a minimum of proficiency in that language (50 points)”

BAND MISSION PART 001-B: GOING SOLO

she then turns to the four others she hasn’t mentioned yet. “i know this must be frustrating for you guys, and i hope you don’t take it personally. the days of competing with one another is over, you are under LGC MUSIC now. as i said, this should be a lesson for all, not a punishment for you who have done as requested.” she gives them a sheepish smile. “for the four of you who have this path close to your heart, i thought about something. remember when i met you all individually to know your plans? funny enough almost all of you expressed interest into making music. so guess what you’ll be doing this trimester? exactly that!”

she seems ready to bounce off her chair with how excited she’s getting. “the four of you will be working on your first songs! i want you guys to pair up and, by the end of the trimester, present me two songs (sidetrack/bsides only) that could be used by your future group!”

BAND MISSION PART 002: UNITY

“finally! since today is all about unity, i’ve came up with a little activity to make you become closer! i’ve thought about sending you a month in the army, but the higher ups refused.” she chuckles, making the others wonder if she’s serious or not. they will never know. instead, she makes a bowl appear from under the table. “all of you, pick a paper, and keep it hidden.” she passes the bowl around as she speaks. “i know we’re a little late for a secret santa, but we’re never too late to get closer! on the paper, you’ll have the name of the person for whom you must prepare a special event! make sure to prepare something that they will like. don’t take someone to a cat cafe if they are allergic to cats for instance! i count on all of you to make your partner feel special!”

** yes, this means that you’ll have 2 threads for this event; one where your muse will be the host of the event, and the other, the receiver of the event **

here’s the list of who received who:

BANG SOOKYUNG: LEONG CHARLOTTE

HAN INSOO: PARK SEOJIN

KIM HYUNBIN: HAN INSOO

LEONG CHARLOTTE: TSAI SUNISA

PARK SEOJIN: KIM HYUNBIN

TSAI SUNISA: BANG SOOKYUNG

BAND MISSION PART 003: INTERVIEW

“the main branch is finally taking interest in us, so INSOO, CHARLOTTE and SEOJIN, the three of you will be interviewed for LGC ACCESS”

** for more information on the matter, please check the ENTERTAINER MISSION **

REQUIREMENTS

make sure to use the hashtag lgc:bandmission for everything related to this event. you have until APRIL 3, 2020 11:59PM EST to complete the following written requirement.

JAPANESE LESSONS: write a 300+ words solo or a 4 replies (minimum 8 lines) thread with a partner that takes place during the lessons for +8 JAPANESE

GOING SOLO: write a 4 replies (minimum 8 lines) thread with your partner that takes place during the creation of the song for +4 MUSIC COMPOSITION + 4 LYRICS COMPOSITION. ** makes sure to submit the song for approbation to lgcmanager **

UNITY: write a 4 replies (minimum 8 lines) thread with your partner that takes place during their events +8 POINTS TO DISTRIBUTE ANYWHERE. **soould be claimed twice **

INTERVIEW: complete a 4 replies (minimum 8 lines) thread with an entertainer for +4 VARIETY +3 NOTORIETY !

to validate your skill points and colect your notoriety points, please submit the following form ONCE on the points blog before APRIL 3 11:59 EST.

TITLE: MUSE NAME ∙ BAND MISSION 004

- JAPANESE LESSONS/GOING SOLO: +8 japanese OR +4 music composition + 4 lyric composition [ LINK ] - UNITY: +8 ( skill points distribution ) [ LINK ] - INTERVIEW : +4 variety + 3 notoriety [ LINK ] ( ** insoo, charlotte, seojin )

#lgc:bandmission #lgc:q12021

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jtownraindancer · 6 years ago

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Arthur Ketch x Reader: Battered and Bound

It seemed that no matter how far you ran, you were still doomed to find some sort of trouble.

In Albania, vampire cultists abducting any unfortunate backpacker that got too close.

In Peru, a nearly obsolete god raising mischief in every village they came across.

In the Philippines, a mountain that actually was being terrorized by demons.

And now, in Paris, you were facing indisputable evidence of a werewolf pack.

You had just wanted to enjoy your vacation.

Rarely would you be willing to do any form of work in a city this large. Witnesses were hard to keep track of, weapons were near impossible to conceal, and should the wrong person overhear-

Folks were antsy enough in this world. You preferred to keep a low profile.

Fortunately, the right names and the right price were always sufficient to get the information you needed, leading you on what had felt like a wild goose chase through the back streets of Montmartre until you finally spied the door you were told to search for.

More a gate, really.

There was a flight of stairs descending between two buildings, weathered and crumbling after years of overuse and exposure. You thought it safe to assume that most folks were dissuaded by the wrought iron bars and the ancient padlock prohibiting any entrance, but then again-

It was never good to make assumptions on this job.

The lock was easy pickings, and you were soon cautiously descending into the darkness, waiting for the end of your path. Your flashlight revealed a significant amount of graffiti, aspiring Monets weaving with political satire.

Your assumptions were definitely incorrect.

Finally, there was a fork in your route, one path leading to the West, steadily climbing back into the hustle and bustle of the city. The other turned sharply east, with a simple five stair descent to a proper door.

This was your destination.

An ancient film came to mind as you began traversing the labyrinth, an indignant scoff with it.

"'Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.'"

You mentally prayed you would not meet a similar fate to most of the characters in the Feldmann classic, taking each step with caution, each breath subdued in an attempt to help your straining ears.

Your guide's wisdom came in handy, another left turn taking you to the open space you were hoping for: lights, clothing, sleeping bags, a few collapsible chairs.

Someone had indeed been living down here, though there was no indication that they were currently in. An advantage, you would hope, as you could potentially set up an ambush for their return.

Sudden movement caught your attention, however, focus drawn to a hooded figure who was tied up near one of the walls. You eased your way over, senses attuned for anything remotely out of place in the dismal surroundings.

Arriving to the captive without incident, you assessed their bindings before daring to remove the hood; you wouldn't let yourself be trapped by your own sense of heroism.

All cleared, you carefully lifted the sack, shock filling you as you took in the face underneath. "/Arthur/?"

His eyes widened in clear surprise, narrowing again almost immediately in confusion, brows drawn together as he traced over your form.

You raised a hand, shaking your head. "It's a long story. I'll tell you after we're done here."

A shift of his head, somewhere between understanding and assent, indicated his temporary dismissal of the matter.

You worked quickly, working through his bindings as carefully as possible. It worried you to see so many bruises on his wrists, so much dried blood on his cheeks. Judging the way he seemed to favor his left side, you also were wary that he had suffered severe internal damage as well, something that would need to be addressed as soon as possible.

"How in God's green earth did they get the jump on you? You're like- You're like the Gabriel Van Helsing of contemporary Hunters."

There was a huff from behind his gag, a flat stare hinting at his annoyance with the title.

Or the film reference.

Perhaps both.

Definitely both.

You ducked your head, but couldn't help your smug grin.

"The great Arthur Ketch, bested by a couple puppies."

At long last, the final thread gave way, freeing his hands. Immediately, he sought out the back of his gag, a slow-moving right arm hinting at damage you couldn't see just yet.

You frowned, tucking the information away for later, before turning your attention to the fabric securing his ankles.

It felt like an age, squatting in the damp passageway of the catacombs, some remnant of superstition waiting for the dead to claim you as one of their own. You would never forgive yourself if you left him here however, incapable of abandoning a friend, especially knowing said friend would owe you a favor for their rescue.

Eventually, he would be free, together you would finish off this pack, and then you could go back to enjoying your vacation in peace, hopefully sans further interruption.

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wackygoofball · 6 years ago

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Gwenspiration: The Wacky Version Vol. 1 - The Fanfics

As threatened/promised, I am tooting the horn in a number of posts, following the most kind call of @jaimebrienneonline.

I decided to begin with fanfic as JB fanfiction was my way into the fandom when a kind voice, long time ago, lured me over to the wonderful world which is JBO. And ever since that day I found both my home and my people.

I am not going in a particular order because like my non-existent children, I kind of love and love to hate all of my fics equally.

But, for matters of scrolling convenience, I will put this list below a cut:

Childhood Friends has a special place in my heart because it is one of the two fics that got me into the fandom, and it is of the rare species of completed Wacky WIPs. The story marked my first tender steps in the canon as I was still catching up on show and book knowledge but got instantly hooked on the JB dynamic and just *had* to write fanfiction about them, albeit not yet knowing just what the frack Westeros even looked like on a map. I simply was intrigued by the idea of how the lives of our OTP may have played out differently if only they had met at a younger age, only to run into one another time and time again over the years, until at last, the circumstances seem to be in their favor. Writing that fic was a challenge because, for one, it got finished, which is incredibly hard for me to to do, and it is a coming of age story of sorts, which is not necessarily what I am used to writing. Nonetheless, it was a project that got me firmly into the fandom, which is why I am always remembering the process (and the writer’s panic) somewhat fondly, and always smile like an idiot when someone finds that old fic of mine and leaves a kudo or even a comment, reminding me of those early beginnings of my JB shipping career.

Choices likely has to be mentioned in the same vein, despite its crucial difference being that it went on a very, very, veeeeeery long hiatus and yet has to awaken (some prince wanting to give it a smooch to maybe bring it back to life? Would be much appreciated!). It was born out of the wish of exploring the infamous what if of Jaime and Brienne already getting intimate while on the road back to King’s Landing - as a matter of necessity/convenience, only for the misfortunate/very fortunate circumstance that Brienne winds up pregnant after their one time together. I enjoyed/would very much to enjoy again to write the character studies on how they deal not just with the issue of parenthood but also with their insecurities regarding their feelings for one another, which inspires more than one ill-made choice (*roll credits*) for either one of them as neither one dares to call love what actually is just that, hiding instead behind missions and honor, parenthood and duty, and fractured pasts that leave them wondering just who they became thanks to each other.

Colour Verses is a series that was born out of my first ever (I believe) JB Appreciation Week. OMG, it’s been so long. The theme of colors really had me inspired, which is why those pieces, which can be read in succession and independently, have a soft spot in my Wacky heart.

The Shredding Project, I believe, deserves an honorary mention despite its utter lack of completion for some of its parts and a happy ending for some of the tales shredded in this part of the fandom. I have a great passion for fairytales and deconstructing them, which inspired this undertaking of twisting and turning aka shredding all those stories into new models to fit Jaime and Brienne into. In fact, the Shredding Project is much larger than it currently is on AO3, as most of the shredded stories still reside in a large, very large Word file on my computer (42 shreddings up to date with a total of 414k words *whispers* 414k mkaaaay, yes I *am* obsessed), and can be found in the respective thread on JBO, where one can read perhaps not an eloquently put-together retelling of favorite fairytales (and some Disney movies) but at least find a conclusion to every story and thus a happy ending, as befits a fairytale.

Bow Down is another story I would mean to include in this list. It came to mean a lot to me personally because I worked my way through it at a time when I was not really having the time of my life for a number of reasons. Thus, finishing that fic did a lot of things for me - and hopefully also with my oh so patient readers. The basic premise is how things would have developed, had Brienne failed to find Sansa and thus fully dedicate herself to the cause of the Blackfish during the Riverrun Siege whose bitterness is clouding his judgment, leaving Jaime in a tough position to choose between his family and the mannish woman he can’t help but care about as much as he does.

A Tale of Spring is one of those fics I wish to include in that already way too long tooting because a) it is a finished story, which is always a rarity in my Wacky world, and b) it is still a kind of headcanon I would have loved to come about in some capacity, as it leaves room for not just happy endings while at the same time giving space for futures to grow for JB as they are cautious to dream of their future past the Long Night, edging on a Dream of Spring.

Paths is one of those stories I am, yet again, very desperate to get back on track with (I mean, it is supposed to lead somewhere, title has it). This story means a lot to me because I just have so much in my head for how this is meant to conclude and just have to get over that one edge to finally ebb into the narrative direction I need this to go (aka follow the path *badum tssssss*). I suppose the story was very much fuelled by my love for G.I. Jane and the dynamic between Jordan O'Neil and John James Urgayle (and Viggo in those short shorts... way too short shorts... damn). At the same time, my aim with this fic is to show not just how tough JB can be and how much ass they can kick together but also how insecure they are beneath the tough surface and how they actually long for something way outside the line of fire.

Train Acquaintances, by contrast, is a rather self-indulgent fic I started to write and was surprised to have found an audience rather fast. I just really liked the theme of trains as a way for two people to meet while at the same time playing with the overly romanticized notion of trains and deconstructing it somewhat. They are a curious means of transportation, to put it mildly. And to then throw in Jaime trying to act smoothly when he is just acting like a dork most of his time was just too delicious to resist. While it’s been a long time (because my computer ate part of a chapter I found really important and that has frustrated me so much, I can’t even tell you), I remain intrigued writing this story because it has a rather distinct mood from what I normally tend to write. And awkward Jaime is just so much fun to write.

Washed Away is one of those fics I am so desperate to get back to that you woudln’t even believe - because it is the one fic most closely tied to the book canon. Its premise is the Lady Stoneheart situation yet to be resolved, wherein Brienne makes a dangerous gamble to save the man she knows is not guilty of the crimes Lady Stoneheart accuses him of, leaving them both to wrestle not just with the dilemmas of this overall situation but also their conflicting vows and feelings for one another.

In the Eyes of the Seven is one of those fics I am yet again very desperate to get back to (yes, I realize I type this sentence far too often, but it is the truth!) but have not yet found a way to bridge between two important plot points, currently creating a gap that keeps me from moving on to the next chapters. It is one of those narrative places where I nerd around freely and explore some mad medley of historical fiction inserted into the history of Westeros, taking up on the runaway nuns of the Reformation period and re-applying it to the Westerosi context by making it about septons and septas instead. While perhaps not a particularly popular story of mine, it is a story I very much enjoy writing as it gives opportunity for lots of introspection, insecurities, and the wish of both characters to break out of the boundaries of the norms set by a static system leaving no room for the likes of the Kingslayer and a woman fancying herself a sword as much as a book or a dress. In general, there are just so many ideas for it inside my head that I really hope to get back on track with that story because there is just so much more I want to tell the readers about in this strange tale.

May the Norns Bind Their Fate strikes a similar tune for me, as I get to gush about my mediocre-at-best knowledge of Norse mythology (albeit a great interest) and yet again change Westeros to my liking to insert the political system of the Viking era into this society (or rather my wacky interpretation thereof). For me, it is both an experiment in terms of perhaps (big perhaps) turning things a bit more heated than I am used to (for Wacky writes no smut, unless it is a literal accident, which only happened, like, once) and diving deep into aspects such as trauma and grief as well as fate and determinacy, since the idea of seers knowing your future has a very distinct appeal in my view, and how knowing one’s “fate” may affect the outcomes of the events. Thus, taking up on the challenge to deal with that in this fic still has me hooked - and I hope I am not the only one.

Last but not least...

An Honorable Man and a Just Woman is a story I am happy to have found an audience because it really gives me something personally to write it. Considering how sadly things played out in the show, I was in dire need of my own little fix-it and have since taken up on the challenge to entertain those questions of what would have changed had Jaime survived, what would be if he were declared King of the Six Kingdoms. Not only does that leave a humbled Jaime trying to find his place in a world he never thought he would see, having seen his ending long before he rode away from Winterfell, but it also leaves him and Brienne with the reality of what it is like to survive when so many died, and how to cope with how they parted and why. And while there are still so many things left unsaid and feelings left unexpressed, one can only hope that those two honorable and just people will eventually find their way around in the new world they are meant to build.

So yeah, I tooted a lot, and I still left out a whole bunch of my weird fanfic children, but those are the ones I feel a great deal of dedication to, even if, admittedly, a lot of them haven’t seen an update in ages. But rest assured, anyone reading this who dared to jump the Wacky train and read along, knowing very well that this strange woman struggles finishing a WIP most of her days, that I am still dedicated to each of those stories (as I am to any story I write). There are simply technicalities and real life not letting me dedicate as much of my time to it as I would need to finally get that final push ahead on a lot of them.

Be it as it may, in the spirit of Glorious Gwendoline Christie, here’s to my shameless self-promotion!

Stay tuned for the next post about the wackiest of Wacky’s wacky creations.

Until then...

Much love! ♥♥♥

#jaime x brienne #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #gwenspiration #wacky writes fanfic #wacky promotes fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #yadda #and I love me mah tags

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arnoldjaime13 · 4 years ago

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Blog Tour- MATRIARCH by @AdamWingWriting With An Excerpt & #Giveaway! @RockstarBkTours

I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the MATRIARCH by Adam Wing Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!

About The Book:

Title: MATRIARCH

Author: Adam Wing

Pub. Date: December 1, 2019

Publisher: Adam Wing

Formats: Paperback, eBook

Pages: 124

Find it: Goodreads, Amazon, Kindle, B&N, TBD, Bookshop.org

Read For FREE With A Kindle Unlimited Membership!

The story is over. It’s already too late.

At the end of the Turkish War of Independence, a British soldier disobeys orders to return home. Setting out to explore a country he had only known as trespasser, he uncovers danger, mysteries, and magic—adventure, obsession, and true love.

One hundred years later, the soldier’s great-granddaughter sits at her great-grandmother’s deathbed while the old woman recounts this very tale; it is the last she will ever tell.

Secrets are revealed as past and present collide, and as one woman’s future draws toward its inevitable close, another finds hers thrown into uncertainty.

Excerpt:

(First Chapter)

THE ELDEST

FATE. DESTINY. DOOM.

They rule our lives, decide our futures, queens of fortune and potential. So small are we in Their eyes—so titanic Their vision—we sometimes view Them as a single inescapable god, decider of everything, of both final and first, both cause and consequence. But each is unique.

They are Sisters.

Born in the same instant, Destiny and Fate have ever been rivals. Squabbling for control of all that is, and all that will come to pass, they command our stories, vying for ownership: Fate singing Her songs in reverse, with endings decided before have begun—parables carved in the currents of an immutable universe. While Destiny scribbles in the ink of human action, telling stories born of spirit, courage and resolve, of foolishness, fear and greed. Her endings are those we achieve for ourselves, yet they are no less inevitable, no less Hers in the end.

Then there is the Eldest.

Doom.

Doom eclipses Her Sisters. They are nothing that She was not already. Like Fate, She is the chosen endpoint assigned to each living soul; like Destiny, She is the fruit of every worldly ambition. And She is more. Doom is the great and terrible scorecard, the price of admission, deferred until journey’s end. She is the reckoning of each life’s work, be it arranged in the stars or shaped by choices freely made.

Whether you believe in Destiny, in Fate, in neither or both, Doom cannot be denied.

She will be there in the end.

Doom awaits us all.

CHAPTER ONE

Doom

EACH Sister was present in the hospital that day. No one saw them. No one heard their voices as they laid claim to the oldest and youngest alike, to every life and future resting in-between. But they were there. Fate’s unyielding certainty clung to the air, mingling with the sharp balm of ammonia hastily spread across vinyl, tile and plastic. Destiny’s resolve crackled around every pulsing body, binding lives in an intricate web of hopes, fears and grim determination. And of course, Doom was there, lurking out of sight, hiding around corners and behind heavy doors. In such desperate settings, where people came to press back against death, fight tooth and nail for one more decade, one more year, just one more breath of life, the Eldest Sister was never far.

Today in particular, more than any in a very long time, Doom’s presence could be felt. Today, she was here with purpose. This was the day the Merrill family would arrive en masse. The day Ayla Merrill, the ancient family matriarch, came to the hospital to die.

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

“SHE was fine,” the man explained—tried to explain—fumbling words as his voice betrayed an agitation barely held in check. “She was normal. Gran’s always been—I mean, she’s old, but she’s always been . . . healthy, you know? I can’t think of a time I’ve seen her sick. But she just started coughing and wheezing, and she just—and she just … dropped. Like a bag of onions!”

“How old is your grandmother?” the admissions nurse asked, pen never leaving her clipboard.

“Great-grandmother,” the man corrected automatically. “A hundred-nineteen. It’s her birthday. It was at her party it happened. Everyone was there. It was something else, really, a miracle—that we could all make it, I mean. Like—not just most of us—everyone came. So many different schedules. Six generations under the same roof…” The man was beginning to babble. For a time, the nurse allowed him. The patient had been admitted, assigned a bed, and wheeled away by an orderly; it was a slow afternoon, and amazingly, no one else was waiting; no harm letting him unburden himself. Soon she realized however, if she hoped to get anything useful from him at all, she would to have to interrupt. “…the youngest still poopin’ in diapers of course, but we—” The nurse opened her mouth to cut in.

“Dan!” A female voice slapped at them from the entrance. Five more had appeared through the sliding glass doors. The one who had called out, a well-made-up but dazed looking young woman—no older than thirty—scooted past a trio of middle-aged ladies who were supporting a hanging-grey-thread of an eighty—perhaps even ninety—year-old man. “We met up in the parking lot.” The younger woman nodded toward the others. “Mum and Dad are right behind. How is she?”

It took the nurse a second to realize this last was directed to her.

“Well we—”

“Cass! Dan!” A couple in their fifties hurried through the doors and up to the group. “How is she? What do they say?” These questions were not addressed to the nurse, who had yet to get a word in.

“I don’t know,” the young woman, apparently named Cass, answered. “I was just asking.”

“I don’t know,” Dan echoed. Then turning back, he resumed his monologue. “She was having trouble breathing, right? Well, first off she was fine. Everyone was saying…” The man’s rambling account washed over her once again. Painfully suppressing the urge to clench her jaw, the nurse watched as three more Merrills trickled in to attach themselves to the group. Was she to contend with the whole extended clan today? she wondered with no small feeling of dread.

Before more could arrive, before Dan could recite the entire family history, she managed to time an interjection into one of his short breaths. The doctors where examining their great-grandmother, she told them—or their grandmother—or in the case of the ancient-looking man, his … mother?—the one they called Gran, in any case—and they would be back with their diagnosis soon. In the mean time, no, they could not all go wait with her; no, she herself was not going to speculate on what might be wrong; and yes, they could remain in the lounge, so long as they kept to themselves and bothered no one.

This last answer was one the admissions nurse would come to regret.

One-hundred-thirty-eight relatives—ninety-nine direct descendants, and a healthy smattering of in-laws—gathered in the waiting area that evening. “Gran is a remarkable woman,” one of them told the nurse when she approached them to elect a contingent who would stay and wait for news, allowing the others to go home. “Hundred-nineteen and sharper than anyone I know. None of us can imagine what we’d do without her.”

“She sounds incredible,” she answered. Now please move on like any normal invasive swarm.

Eventually, she did convince them. Six would remain through visiting hours. One would be allowed to sit overnight with the patient. For this, they elected the young woman, Cass, who had grown up next-door to the old matron. All agreed, she lived closest to Gran’s heart.

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

IT was a little after 2:00 a.m. when Gran awoke. Cass did not immediately notice. Her focus had fallen hard on what the doctor had told her, and it was difficult to think of anything else. “It’s her time,” the woman had said, hands folded on a closed folder containing Gran’s entire medical life. “Her body’s giving out. She might make it till morning, maybe a day or two, but … she’s very old.”

Old, Cass thought. Her laptop sat open in front of her, a half-finished pamphlet design splashed across the dimmed screen. She had hoped to distract herself with work, but for hours she had no more than stared at the open file. …might make it till morning, maybe a day or two… The words circled in her head, overwriting all other thought. …but she’s very old… The idea that this woman, this fixture in Cass’s life, would be gone soon, was all she could focus on. As her great-grandmother’s sleep became restless, Cass’s attention was drawn inward. Even when the old woman slipped back into consciousness, she failed to notice. Only when Gran actually called out, did she finally snap back to the world.

“Ollie?” Gran’s fear cut the darkness, causing the younger woman to start. “Ollie, where am I? Where is this? What am I doing here? Ollie?!”

Tossing her laptop to the other chair, Cass reached for the old woman. “Sh-hh, Gran,” she whispered. “Sh-hh-hh, it’s me. It’s Cassidy. Your little Cass.”

“Cass?” If anything, Gran’s voice sounded more panicked. “Oh God. Cass … where am I? Where—where’s Ollie?”

“Gran, no; it’s okay. It’s okay. You’re in the hospital. You’re with me at the hospital. You fainted at the party. We brought you here to rest and get better.”

“No. No, I don’t like this, Cass. I need to see him. I need … I need … oh…” Her voice trailed off, as though the effort to speak was too much. This frightened Cass. Gran did not scare easily. Gran did not get befuddled. She was immutable, a force of nature. Seeing her like this…

“Greatest-Granddad’s gone,” Cass said, pressing the old woman’s knuckles in her palm. “He passed a long, long time ago, remember? Years before I was born. You do, Gran. Don’t you?

Surprisingly, this seemed to have a calming effect. Gran’s muscles relaxed. She eased herself back onto the bed. “Yes,” she breathed, sounding a little more herself. “Yes, Cass, that’s right. A long time. I just forgot. Just for a second.” She placed a frail hand over Cass’s, which Cass then sandwiched in her own. They held on like that for a minute before Gran pulled away. “Poor Ollie,” she murmured. “Poor, poor Ollie.” Then, “Please, Cassidy, the light. I’d like to see my favourite girl before I go.”

Cass flicked the switch on a wall-mounted fixture over the bed, and a dull glow kindled in its frosted bulb. “None of this before I go crap,” she chided. “You’re going to get better, okay? Mum and Dad brought you some things from the house; some clothes, your jewellery, that old book you like to read. They want you to keep your spirits up so you can get out of here and back home where you belong.”

Gran smiled. “My little Cass. A hundred-and-nineteen is long enough sentence for anyone, wouldn’t you say?” Cass shook her head. Gran had exceeded her generation’s life expectancy before she herself was born, yet to her, a world without the old woman in it was unthinkable. “Besides,” Gran continued, ignoring Cass’s silent objection, “a promise was made many years ago, and I expect it’s time to keep it.”

“Gran, what are you—”

“You say they brought my bobbles?”

Sitting back, Cass nodded.

“Please.”

Cass allowed herself a moment of uncertainty before retrieving a small cherry-wood box from the windowsill.

The box was an antique. Intricate friezes lay carved around its sides, each depicting a season of the year. Webs of brass and silver decorated the lid, set seamlessly into the polished wood. Cass adored this box, though she had never been allowed to touch it, or even look inside. It was strictly off-limits, the only real restriction Gran had ever enforced. Setting it on the old woman’s lap, she returned to her chair by the bed.

“I never told you how I ended up with your great-grandfather,” Gran remarked quietly, opening the little chest.

Cass took a moment to consider. A legend in the Merrill family—second only to Gran herself—Greatest-Granddad Ollie had died in the 1940s, before even the grandchildren were born. Yet each generation had grown up with him. Sitting cross-legged on the old woman’s worn living-room carpet, or curled into an ancient chair or sofa, listening to Gran’s stories, they had come to know him, to love him as if he had always been around. And though his death was something of a murky spot in the family chronicle—rarely discussed and vaguely understood to be suicide—it was his life the old woman loved to recount. The sort of man he was, how much he meant to her. They had gone on such adventures together, lived through incredible events. Through these enthralling tales, he lived again, and the entire family grew to adulate him, even as Gran herself did.

It was no small shock then, when Cass realized she had no idea how Gran had actually come to meet him. That can’t be right, she thought. Gran would have told that one. Surely, I would have asked. But thinking back, giving herself a good long moment to think, she found her mind drawing a blank.

Before Cass could voice her surprise, Gran—whose eyes remained fixed inside the box—shot up a silencing finger. “Wasn’t a question, Cassidy,” the old woman muttered. “I’m not asking; I’m saying, you’ve never heard this story.”

Cass’s mouth snapped shut.

Picking carefully through her jewelry—a bird digging for insects amidst a carpet of fallen nettles—Gran’s eyes widened as she spotted what she was looking for. She set the box aside, and in her hand held a silver bracelet formed of fine, interlinking bands. It wore a heavy coat of tarnish, painted on, presumably, by time and neglect, but was a wonderfully detailed piece and looked to be one-of-a-kind. Cass could not recall ever seeing Gran wear it. In fact, she was fairly certain she had never seen it at all.

“This bracelet,” Gran said, wistfully, “is older than you’d guess. Older than you’d believe, actually. It has more stories in it than I could tell you if I had … well, till you were my age. But the most recent, the one as it matters to me … and to you … is the tale of your great-grandfather. Oliver. It’s a story I’ve not told anyone. But then, no one as God-awful-old as me could miss how special you are, Cass—could doubt that you deserve to know. I suppose it’s time someone does.”

Cass’s throat seemed to swell. It was a struggle to pull air into her lungs. She knows she’s dying, she thought. She knows this will be the last story she tells. Leaning forward, crushed by the realization, yet desperate to hear what Gran had to say, she listened as the tale began.

“It was, oh … so far back now, in Turkey, maybe a year after the war—not the Great War; a few years on. After the Liberation. I guess these old bones would have looked about your age then—just shy, maybe—a girl, figuring out what it means to be a woman.

The winter rains came strong that year. I don’t think I’d seen the river so high…”

About Adam:

Man of many hats: teacher, engineer, editor, scholar, mountain climber, bar tender, student, world traveller, and through and above it all, writer, Wing has dedicated most his life to the craft of writing fiction.

Wing's published works include the novel, Icarus, and a book of short stories, Apoca Lypse Sink Ships, and he has fantasy work on the way.

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kookiehao · 7 years ago

Text

[SEVENTEEN] OT13 - the thread that binds us (2/?) - 7300 words

Title: the thread that binds us Author: kookiehao (arashianelf on LJ and AO3) Pairings: OT13!friendship, hints of jicheol Genre: Fluff, fantasy, angst Rating: G Summary: A person's life can be deeply affected by tiny little things that occur far away from them; the butterfly effect, it's called. However, sometimes it's things that occur closer to home that can change a person's life forever.

For Choi Seungcheol, it begins with this: an old man comes to visit in a small town on the outskirts of Daegu.

Notes: If you follow this on AO3 as well, the one there gets updated a lot faster than the one over here! Just an FYI :)

one | two | three | four | five

Jihoon approaches the doorway slowly, eyeing the hinges carved into the wood on either side of the doorframe, hinting at how the fireplace had disappeared. Jihoon squats to look closer at the wooden flooring, but the lines of the panel that now covers the fireplace and mantel are well-camouflaged amongst the rough lines typical of wood flooring.

He stands again, now examining the door that has been hidden behind the fireplace this whole time. Ignoring the way his phone is buzzing, he tries the door handle, which opens easily for him. The door opens with a loud creak, and Jihoon makes a mental note to get some oil for the hinges.

He takes a deep breath, coughing a little at the dust, and nudges open the door. Upon entering, he feels along the wall for the light switch, and looks up at the staircase curling its way up that is illuminated by the lights at the top landing.

Retreating from the stairwell, he grabs a random thick book from one of the shelves and places it along the doorframe in case the door shuts on him. He isn’t taking any chances at locking himself in until he examines the door and how it works. First though, he plans to explore the area the winding staircase leads up to.

He turns on the flashlight on his phone, frowning down at it with annoyance as it buzzes non-stop. He turns on silent mode, and turns his attention back to the staircase. He takes slow steps up, worried for the structural integrity of the staircase, but the wood holds his weight with nary a sound.

Aiming the light around, Jihoon observes that the walls are still made of wood, much like the rest of the house. He takes the last few steps up onto the landing, where another door waits.

Again, this door opens smoothly, and Jihoon searches for the actual light switch. Flipping the lights on, he stops in the process of turning off the flashlight and stares at the state-of-the-art producing equipment across the room.

He absently turns off the flashlight, locking his phone and slipping it into his back pocket, approaching the equipment reverently. Other than the large desktop computer screens and accompanying monitor, there’s an electric keyboard along the wall, along with an acoustic guitar in its stand.

A thin layer of dust lies over everything, and Jihoon makes a mental note to bring in some cleaning supplies as soon as possible.

Jihoon is pretty sure the computer has the best digital audio workstation downloaded without having to turn it on. He eyes the audio interface lying innocently on the table next to the one with the desktop screen, and the large studio monitors placed at the corners of the room, both on the floor and on the ceiling.

There’s two microphone stands with good quality microphones and pop filters in this room. Jihoon walks over to the door next to the whole electronic set-up and opens it, sighing in bliss at the second soundproof door and what lays behind it as he turns on the light for the next room.

There are bass traps, acoustic panels, and sound diffusers randomly scattered and built into the walls of the recording studio, meant for ensuring the most high quality recordings in the room. Jihoon walks back out of the recording studio and opens one of the cupboards along the wall, and damn near cries as he sees unopened, brand-new boxes.

Unopened, brand-new boxes of one of the latest models of MIDI controllers, the monitor isolation pads he’s always wanted… This is Jihoon’s studio dream come true, and he bounces a little, eager to set everything up.

He’s pretty sure if he looked through the other cupboards he would find other things needed for producing and recording, but he stops, putting everything back to rights and switching off the lights.

He closes the door behind him, slowly walking back down the staircase and examining the door that he had left open. Next to the door frame is a lever that is currently down, which answers his question about how to open the door when it closes behind him.

Just to test it out, he nudges the book out of the way, taking a deep breath as the door clicks shut. He hears the rumble of the fireplace moving back into place on the other side of the door, watching as the lever moves back up with a sharp click. When all is quiet again, he pulls the lever, holding his breath.

The rumbling starts again, and when it stops Jihoon tests the door, sighing in relief when it opens. Finally leaving the stairwell, he closes the door behind him, book in hand, and turns to watch the fireplace emerge from the floor.

‘Well,’ Jihoon thinks wryly to himself, ‘I know where I’m living out of for the foreseeable future.’ He places the book from where he took it from, picking up the notepad and book still lying on the piano. Walking out silently, he switches the light off, door clicking shut quietly behind him as he pads his way back to his room.

The group chat, when Jihoon deigns to check it, has exploded in the wake of his announcement. He sighs, scrolling all the way down without bothering with backchat, lounging in bed until he feels tired enough to sleep.

To: three years is up!!

say moo: i’m not even going to bother with backchat

say moo: i was busy exploring the fucking secret room in the music room okay i didn’t have time to reply anything

say moo: anyway, there’s a state of the fucking art studio behind that secret door.

say moo: it’s my new home now.

size is irrelevant: a studio? behind a secret door found in the music room?

size is irrelevant: wow i’m so surprised

say moo: shut up you ass. no wonder you were tiny when you changed.

size is irrelevant: that’s irrelevant, hyung. i’m still like, a head taller than you normally.

say moo has changed his name to jihoon

jihoon: who the fuck keeps doing that.

im THE dawg: does that mean there are other secret rooms in the house?

i hate being last: i’ve always said that the house looks bigger on the outside than it does on the inside! secret rooms would actually explain a lot. now if one of you would actually listen to me when i say things.

I’M A CHICKEN: the maknae’s suffering: an excerpt

I’M A CHICKEN: wait it’s like super late why the frick is the maknae awake

I’M A CHICKEN: actually why are we all awake

hiss hiss mf: i’m almost done with filming soon, so i’ll be able to come down after that. in the meantime, try finding more rooms? there has to be more.

hiss hiss mf: channie, go to bed.

jihoon: yeah, i’m planning to do so. come asap please. this manor is fucking big.

i’m a horse and look like one: why not ask the others in the manor to help you?

i hate being last: yeah yeah i’m going now good night hyungs

jihoon: they’re hiding shit from me. and minki-hyung nearly ripped into me, so clearly they don’t trust me.

jihoon: i’m not asking anything from them until i absolutely have to.

I hate carrots: Smart idea. I’ll be able to make my way down soon as well. Give me a few weeks to settle my book.

I hate carrots: Good night, Channie.

goatlamb: got a few more weddings to cover, before i can come down. why do people like to get married immediately after the new year?

goatlamb: rest well, chan

jihoon: fuck knows why. just come down as soon as you can.

jihoon: i’m off to get more work done.

orange is the new black: i like how casually everyone just ignored jihoon’s questioning about who changed his name again.

i’m a horse and look like one: avoidance is the key to not getting killed, jisoo-hyung. as long as no one rats us out, we’re safe.

supposed to be tiny but not: someone called me? give me a moment to read backchat

hiss hiss mf: of course he chooses to appear now.

supposed to be tiny but not: what do you mean by that, moon junhwi?

hiss hiss mf: nothing, hyung.

supposed to be tiny but not has changed jihoon’s name to say moo

orange is the new black: you’re just courting death, hannie.

supposed to be tiny but not: nay, death’s courting our missing cat. i wouldn’t court jihoonie even if my life depended on it. besides, i have you, don’t i?

orange is the new black: okay, hannie. I’ll be home late today. i have a few patients coming in a few minutes.

supposed to be tiny but not: okay~ I’ll leave the food for you in the microwave!

goatlamb: ugh, domesticity

size is irrelevant: really? you’re saying that? you??? seo myungho you’re going to break seokmin’s heart.

i’m a horse and look like one: just mine?? gyu don’t lie your heart is broken too

size is irrelevant: my heart was broken from the beginning. I never expected anything going into this relationship. It just means he isn’t getting dinner tonight.

goatlamb: …

goatlamb: just because it’s gross doesn’t mean I don’t like it…

I’m a horse and look like one: you’re just saying that because you don’t want to go without mingyu’s food, aren’t you.

goatlamb: in my defense, it’s really good

I’m a horse and look like one: …true

size is irrelevant: you two shut up and get home already. the food is getting cold.

Jihoon grabs the music score notepad that started the whole thing, and flips to the first open page, inspiration having struck him.

The notes flow from his pen to the paper easily, and he hears the music playing in his mind as he scrambles to record down as much as he can before it slips from his fingers. Already, the exact notes are fading, and Jihoon hums a bar a few times to try and remember what came next.

He spends the next hour like this, bent over the notepad and trying to remember the music that had come to him all of a sudden. He throws his pen across the room, frustrated at the fleeting inspiration that strikes him at the oddest hours.

Sighing, he gets out of bed to pick up the pen and places both pen and pad on the table, switching off the lights, figuring that since his muse has once again left again, he might as well get some sleep.

“I’ll show you the way to your room first,” Jungsu says, even as the oak doors creak open. “I’m currently staying in the Cat bearer’s room, but once I’m gone that room will be yours. For now, you’ll be taking one of the guest rooms, next to Taehyung, the gardener that will be taking over the current one when it’s time.”

Seungcheol nods in understanding, walking up to the man and boy now standing on the porch. The boy observes his approach with cool expressive, intelligent eyes, and Seungcheol shrinks back a little.

Then the boy smiles, and his eyes crinkle up, giving Seungcheol the best smile he can muster. While the two older men greet each other, Seungcheol approaches the boy, who greets and introduces himself quickly.

“Hello! I’m Kim Namjoon, and I’ll be your butler for the future, I hope we can get along well,” he bows, and Seungcheol bows on instinct as well, returning the greeting. “I’m Choi Seungcheol, please take care of me!”

“Seungcheol-ah, I see Namjoon-ah has made your acquaintance. This is the current butler of the house, Jung Yunho,” Jungsu introduces the tall man next to him, and Seungcheol is struck by how good-looking he is.

He bows deeply, greeting him. “Nice to meet you, Yunho-ssi. My name is Choi Seungcheol, please take care of me.” Yunho laughs, ruffling Seungcheol’s hair. “You’re so polite! Maybe you’ll be a good influence on Taehyung. God knows that boy doesn’t have any respect for elders unless absolutely necessary.”

Seungcheol smiles shyly, ducking his head in embarrassment and thanks. Jungsu smiles as well, leading the way into the house. “Come on, I’ll start the tour with the entrance hall. Leave your shoes there,” Jungsu instructs, removing his own shoes and placing them in one of the shoe cupboards, holding it open for Seungcheol to do the same.

Behind them, Yunho and Namjoon bring in their bags for them, Seungcheol having reluctantly relinquished his to Namjoon as Jungsu led him past.

The entrance hall doesn’t look like much, apart from the table along a wall next to the shoe cupboards. It is this table that Jungsu leads Seungcheol to, where a large, old leather-bound book lies on the table top.

The table comes with a small mantel, where there are three rows of hooks carved from the wood. The first two rows of hooks are empty, but the third has keys hooked on them, with plain keychains. Jungsu removes a key with a cat keychain hanging from it from his pocket, hanging it on the first shelf.

“The other twelve hooks in the first two rows hold the keychains for the other zodiac bearers. They’re currently all out, so they’re empty,” Jungsu explains upon noticing Seungcheol’s curious glance. Seungcheol makes a soft sound of understanding, turning his attention to the book lying on the table top.

“This book is one of the more important ones in the manor. No one that isn’t supposed to can open it, and it is only ever on this table top for two occasions: when a new zodiac bearer arrives at the manor, and the first time that zodiac bearer changes,” Jungsu says, tapping the book cover, where the words ‘The Zodiac Register’ are embossed in gold.

Seungcheol is passed the book, and he opens it to the first page to find a table of names. Thirteen names, to be exact. The first column, titled ��Names’, lists down the zodiac bearers’ names, the second the zodiac they represent, the third the date they first arrived at the manor.

The fourth takes up most of the page, titled ‘Description’. In each row, a detailed description of the animal they change into is given. Seungcheol makes a soft sound of amazement at the details, looking up at Jungsu with wide eyes.

The old man laughs before taking the book gently from the boy’s hands. He flips it to the middle, where an empty table lies, waiting to be filled in. “Go on then,” he then says, handing Seungcheol the book back and a pen he pulls out of his pocket, “fill in your name and zodiac.”

Seungcheol does as he’s told, filling in his name and the zodiac he represents in his best handwriting. He stops to stare at the row he’s half-filled in when he’s done, before passing the pen back to Jungsu, who keeps it. He’s about to reach out to flip to the previous pages when Jungsu speaks.

“Alright, you’ll be able to look through this book later when you’re free, all right? Let’s move on with the rest of the manor,” Jungsu leads him further into the manor, Yunho and Namjoon having moved along to put their bags in their respective rooms a while back.

“The only ones that can open it are zodiac bearers, isn’t it?” Seungcheol asks, and Jungsu nods, grinning down at him. “Smart child. Yes, only zodiac bearers can open that book. When there’s no need for it to be out, I tend to keep it in my room. It’s one of the safest places in the house, you see,” Jungsu explains, leading him down the hallway.

The hallway opens up to another hallway running perpendicularly, as well as a grand staircase leading upstairs. Jungsu tells him as they turn right, “This is what we call the Central Wing, and it’s where everything is. That staircase over there leads to the second floor, where we have a recreation room and other various rooms.”

Seungcheol’s head whips left and right as he tries to take in everything that he sees as they walk past. “The first floor of the Central Wing has the kitchen and the reception room, which really is a ballroom or occasional dining room. There are other, less important rooms here as well,” Jungsu lists.

“As you’ve probably noticed, the walls have platforms protruding out from them, and the ceiling beams have platforms as well. The ceiling has horizontal beams for cats to perch on and rest, and the platforms give them places to relax,” Jungsu points them out to Seungcheol, who is watching as a striped cat makes his meandering way up a series of platforms.

All around them are cats dogging their footsteps, occasionally getting distracted with the empty cardboard boxes and circles formed with string lying around. “We employ any and every tactic here to keep the cats occupied,” Jungsu relays to the younger drily.

Jungsu opens a door, which leads to yet another hallway, this time with a staircase smackdab in the middle. “This is the East Wing, where all the bedrooms are. First floor is the guest bedrooms, second is the Zodiac bearer bedrooms. There are thirteen on each floor, as you would expect. Currently, four of the rooms are occupied, now five with you,” Jungsu says, leading him to a door.

“For the guest bedrooms, there’s a whiteboard next to each of the doors, so you can write your name there so people know that the room is occupied,” Jungsu tells Seungcheol, bringing down the portable whiteboard and marker for him to write his name.

“Now, Taehyung stays next to you,” Jungsu points out the name on the whiteboard of the room next to his, messily decorated with whiteboard magnets and doodles, “he’s the gardener of your generation, so he’s probably in the woods right now.”

Next, Jungsu opens the door to Seungcheol’s new room, and enters. Seungcheol follows with some mild hesitance, emitting a soft noise of shock at the cosiness of it all. There’s a bed in one corner, and a closet in the other, on either side of the large windows framed by curtains.

There’s a light breeze blowing into the house through the open windows, and the soft blue curtains rustle in the wind. There’s a cat perched on the windowsill, enjoying a stray patch of sun, and opens an eye a slit when Seungcheol approaches.

His bag is at the foot of his bed, and he sits down on the bed, testing the mattress. Next to the closet is a desk for him to put whatever he wants, as well as a laptop that Jungsu picks up and hands to him. “Welcome to Zodiac Manor, Seungcheol-ah. This is your welcome gift from the staff here, as well as me.”

“I can’t accept this, harabeoji,” Seungcheol starts, but Jungsu waves him off. “It’s already been bought, they threw the receipt away too. You have zero chance of getting us to return it. Also, you’ll need it in the future. Trust me, kid. I know what I’m talking about.”

Seungcheol quietens, running his hands across the smooth surface. “Thank you for this, harabeoji,” he says after a few seconds, placing the laptop on the bed next to him. “It’s my pleasure, so no need to thank me,” is all Jungsu says.

“This door over here leads to your personal washroom. Each bedroom comes with their own washroom, so no one has to worry about fighting over who gets to use the bathroom first and the like,” Jungsu continues after a moment of silence, clearing his throat.

“If you need any supplies for the bathroom, just tell Yunho or one of the other staff, and we’ll get it for you when we go into town next. I’ll let you get settled in for a few days before we bring you into town to get you acquainted with the people living there,” Jungsu tells him, and Seungcheol nods gratefully.

“I’ll leave you to wash up now, that drive was long enough that I want to take a shower,” Jungsu says. “When you’re done washing up, just head up to my room via the staircase in the middle of this wing. The Cat zodiac bearer’s room is all the way at the end of the hallway.”

Seungcheol nods his understanding and Jungsu leaves the room, closing the door behind him. Seungcheol takes a deep breath when he’s finally alone, letting the situation sink into him. This is going to be his home for the foreseeable future, and these are the people he’s going to have to live with for the rest of his life.

It’s a daunting thought, but Seungcheol steels himself for it. He at least hopes he’ll be able to get along with everyone else.

The time passes quickly when Jihoon is able to settle into a routine. He wakes up in the mornings, feeling like death personified, and goes to the kitchen for breakfast, where he warms up his brain by deflecting probing questions asked by the others and staunchly not reacting to the thinly veiled barbs shot his way.

He exchanges polite conversation with everyone as much as he can, the Jimin mentioned the first night being Park Jimin, Taehyung’s best friend. He learns that along with Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi, and Jimin, Taehyung is part of a budding coven, which normally has ten people.

He’s pretty sure that Jonghyun, Minki, Aron, Minhyun and Dongho are part of some secret group as well, but doesn’t want to risk Minki’s wrath to ask until he has Jeonghan here to buffer as well as Dongho.

Speaking of Dongho, Jihoon has gotten into the habit of sending him snippets of audio, and the older does the same, exchanging advice and criticism about their work. It has helped him improve the standards of his tracks a lot, and Jihoon is pleased.

After breakfast, he holes himself up in the studio, closing the secret door behind him so no one knows where he is. He works in the studio until dinner, when his stomach drives him back to the kitchen after he forgets to eat lunch, as usual.

After dinner, he explores the manor, trying to find more secret rooms. So far, he’s been in the music room one, and he’s pretty sure that the recreation room has one as well. He knows that there should be some kind of sign telling him where the secret rooms are, but he hasn’t found it yet.

When he’s tired, he goes to any place with a high concentration of cats, playing with them to pass the time. Gongju and her mate come up to him often, meowing and pawing at him until he plays with them. The chocolate brown cat with white markings that Jihoon always saw around Seungcheol keeps his distance, and is usually perched on one of the platforms close by, observing Jihoon.

The days pass like that, and before he knows it, Jisoo is about to arrive.

To: three years is up!!

orange is the new black: jihoon, i’ll be heading down in a few days. jeonghan’s still busy closing a deal but he’s coming a few days after i am.

say moo: thank fuck

say moo: i need jeonghan-hyung here to buffer minki-hyung. i’m about to go insane.

I’M A CHICKEN: minki-hyung still isn’t happy, huh?

say moo: apparently he’s going to remain unhappy until we give him an adequate explanation, but i don’t know if we’re allowed to talk about that yet.

orange is the new black: …i think we’ll withhold that information for now, yeah? i don’t trust them fully yet. there’s new people too, so god knows what they can spread with that information if they have ill intentions.

say moo: alright. it’ll be good to finally have people on my side in the manor. i’ll inform them tonight about you guys arriving soon.

That night, Jihoon does as he said, informing the table at large that Jisoo and Jeonghan would be arriving within the next few days. Jonghyun and Minhyun exchange glances with each other, as does Taehyung and Namjoon, which does not go unnoticed by Jihoon, but he chooses to remain silent on the matter.

“Finally. I was wondering whether what you told us that first night was a lie. Good to see I’m wrong,” is all Minki says on the matter, and Jihoon is once again out of the kitchen as soon as he is able, hearing the kitchen break out into low whispers when he’s gone.

He briefly wonders if he should stay by the door to listen about what they’re talking about, but rejects the idea. One of the witches would probably sense him, or something. He’s pretty sure Jonghyun’s group is hiding some power as well.

From the past few days he’s been able to observe that whatever Namjoon’s growing coven knows, Jonghyun’s probably doesn’t, and vice versa. Everyone’s keeping secrets from each other because they don’t know what each other’s exact goals are apart from finding out happened to Seungcheol, and because they don’t know how much they can say.

However, in terms of interactions, Jihoon would have to say that the coven is maintaining a rather neutral stance, while Jonghyun, Minhyun and Minki are more standoffish towards him.

Still, the manor is filled with tension, and Jihoon doesn’t like it. He misses the times when Seungcheol was there, tying everyone together. He remembers letting Seungcheol bug him when he was trying to compose, or when he was trying to read a book in peace.

He thinks of Seungcheol’s bright eyes when he beams at someone, and the way the townspeople always greeted him with love whenever they wandered into town. He thinks about the quiet times spent together just lounging on the couch while the others made a mess of the recreation room.

He thinks about anything and everything that Seungcheol reminds him of, and in that moment, he is filled with the most intense longing and grief, all the more determined to find out what happened to Choi Seungcheol and give that man a piece of his mind for causing them to worry so much.

Shaking his head to free himself from his thoughts, he continues down the hallway and going up the grand staircase, walking to the recreation room, where he’s been concentrating his efforts for the past few days.

He enters the room, switching on the lights. He’s been combing through the room inch by inch, and has yet to find anything out of place or hidden. The recreation room is filled with bean bags and the most comfortable couches, along with every game system currently on the market.

Jihoon continues on to the shelves places between the windows, where rows of game CDs and board games and card games are lined, and continues what he’s been doing for the past few days. He removes the things on each shelf one by one, making sure there’s no protrusions from the wall.

As he does so, he grumbles to himself, “Why did I have to find that secret room? I have to lug a chair every-fucking-where now because I’m not tall enough to reach the fucking top shelf. I should wait until Mingyu comes and make him do the rest of the shelves.”

He’s moved onto a bookshelf that has books concerning tactics about different games (he saw a few Minecraft books that he’s keeping in mind to read for later) when the chair tilts after he climbs onto it. He stumbles and jumps off just as he’s about to fall back first.

Kneeling down onto the floor, and moving the chair away, he sighs when he notices a small circular panel on the floor. Seeing as just pushing that one switch didn’t do anything, he heaves the beanbags around the chair away.

Just as he’d thought, he spots three more small circular panels in the floor, forming a perfect square with the one panel pressed down by the chair. He carries the chair over, placing each leg over each panel.

Going over to the shelves, he removes a thick hardcover book and drops it onto the chair seat, smiling in satisfaction as the chair sinks into the floor and a loud click echoes around the room. The wall opposite the one with the television mounted on it shifts backwards and to the side, revealing a door.

Just to make sure, Jihoon goes over to the door leading to the Central Wing hallway and locks the door, before returning to the now revealed hidden door. He removes the book from the chair just to see what happens, watching as the chair slowly rises and the wall move back into place.

Nodding to himself, he places the book back on the chair and waits for the door to appear again, before he opens it and enters. Just like the one in the music room, there is a staircase winding up, and the stairwell is dark and dusty.

He turns on the light and makes his way up the staircase, observing that just like the one leading to the studio, the wood of the staircase is in very good condition, despite all the dust. Opening the door at the top of the staircase, Jihoon notices that just like the studio, this one has a second door for soundproofing as well, and opens it and turns on the lights as well.

He then just stands there, gaping at the miniature theatre that greets him, with a large wall-to-wall viewing screen on the opposite wall. The seats are couches, the same ones as those in the recreation room downstairs, and when Jihoon looks up, there’s a projector mounted on the ceiling to project the films on the screen.

There’s dust everywhere, like he’d expected, but a fucking movie theatre? This was nowhere near whatever he was expecting to find in a hidden room. “Fuck, at this rate I’m going to need to carry a portable vacuum cleaner,” Jihoon says to himself, after sneezing thrice in a row.

He leaves the room, turning off all the lights behind him. When he’s out on the staircase landing, he pulls out his phone, typing as he walks down.

To: three years is up!!

say moo: I found a movie theatre this time.

i’m a horse and look like one: say what?

say moo: a fucking movie theatre

i love bananas: they had a movie theatre at home and we didn’t know???

say moo: yes

I’M A CHICKEN: oh my god

im THE dawg: what happened why is kwannie yelling in my ear

im THE dawg: oh what the hell are you serious

orange is the new black: language, choi hansol. but yes, the sentiment is the same for me.

I’M A CHICKEN: if you find a karaoke room i don’t care where i am or what im doing, im coming down immediately

He snorts, exiting the secret room after switching off the lights, removing the book from the chair and putting everything back to rights. He unlocks the door and exits the recreation room entirely, making his way back to his room, scrolling through social media as he walks.

After Seungcheol is done washing up, he exits the room, climbing up the staircase slowly and finding himself in a hallway similar to the one on the lower floor. Only, instead of just whiteboards hung on the walls on the right of each door, there are wooden nameplates nailed into the doors, with an animal intricately engraved on each one.

He walks down the hallway, darting left and right to look at the different nameplates and whiteboards. At the end of the hallway is a door with a cat nameplate, as well as a whiteboard that has Jungsu’s name on it with angel wings as a backdrop.

He knocks on the door with trepidation, and after a moment the door opens. “Come in!” Jungsu calls, and Seungcheol peeks his head around the door. Jungsu smiles when he sees him, closing a leather-bound book and placing it on the table.

“What’s that?” Seungcheol asks curiously. “Oh, this?” Jungsu looks down at the journal. “It’s a journal, where I write my thoughts in whenever I have time,” Jungsu explains. “Each generation of Cat bearers tend to keep journals because sometimes it’s good to write things down,” Jungsu says, gesturing to the rows of shelves that are along a wall.

“Because a lot of them are old, they fall apart easily under direct sunlight, so I keep them in these cupboards with no glass, so they don’t get damaged. I also have a dehumidifier in each cupboard to make sure they don’t become mouldy,” Jungsu tells him.

“It’s weird, though. I only have the journals from the Cat bearer five generations back to now. I can’t seem to locate the journals prior to that generation’s. Anyway, here, these are the ones I’ve filled in in the years I’ve lived here,” Jungsu says, opening one cupboard, showing him the row of leather-bound books slotted in neatly next to each other.

“Woah,” Seungcheol gasps, looking to Jungsu for permission before taking one. He flips through it quickly before putting it back, feeling as if he’s intruding on Jungsu’s privacy. Jungsu closes the cupboard after he makes sure everything is in place.

“Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the manor. The East wing is simple enough, all of the rooms are similar to the ones you’ve seen,” Jungsu leads the way out of the room, and Seungcheol dutifully follows, trailing the old man.

They head out into the hallway and through the door that leads to the Central Wing, and Jungsu points out the various rooms to him as they pass. “There’s the music room, and that one is the recreation room. The one opposite the music room is an office to do work in, and the one opposite the recreation room is an art room.”

“The other rooms, you can discover on your own,” Jungsu tells him. “I have to show you some other stuff later, too.” They walk to the other end of the Central Wing’s main hallway, where a door is closed.

“Welcome to my pride and joy, the West Wing of Zodiac Manor,” Jungsu says proudly, opening the door to reveal the largest library Seungcheol has ever seen inside a house. Well, granted, it was a manor, but still.

“Woah.” Seungcheol walks into the West Wing, eyes darting in all directions as he beholds the sheer number of shelves in the wing. Instead of rooms, the entirety of the wing is a library, with three floors. In between shelves, there are numerous reading nooks along the wall, framed by large windows to let in the sunlight.

There is a staircase leading up to the third floor and another down to the first floor in front of the door, and another across the wing. There is also one in the middle of the wing, and each row of shelves has a mobile ladder.

“The books are all arranged depending on whether they’re fiction or non-fiction, then by author. The non-fiction books are arranged according to topic as well,” Jungsu tells him, smiling at the younger’s reaction.

“We also have a section focusing on all the lore anyone has ever collected regarding the zodiacs,” Jungsu informs him in a more serious tone, catching Seungcheol’s attention. “You mean…” Seungcheol trails off, to which Jungsu nods, understanding the unsaid question.

“Yes. This is the largest collection of books regarding the curse. Whatever anyone has ever published, be it in a research paper or in a book, fiction or non-fiction, we have it. No matter how ridiculous the things they write are, we have it. After all, even the most nonsensical things can have kernels of truth in them.”

Jungsu points out the section to him, all the way at the other end of the wing. Seungcheol itches to go and check out what books the library has to offer, but refrains from it for now. He has all the time in the world to explore the West Wing.

“That’s all for the inside of the house, now I’ll give you a tour of the outside,” Jungsu says, leading Seungcheol back out of the library and down the grand staircase. Seungcheol remains quiet, a thought having occurred to him.

“Harabeoji, what would have happened if I’d refused the bracelet? If I’d refused taking on the curse as the Cat zodiac bearer?” Seungcheol asks, and Jungsu halts in his tracks. “…you would have changed anyway when the time came. Once you’re chosen, there’s no stopping the curse. All I would have had to do was wait for you to change, inform your parents, then take you away.”

Seungcheol stares at Jungsu in shock. The old man turns to him with a sorrowful expression. “I wouldn’t have gotten to say goodbye?” Seungcheol asks softly. Jungsu nods, and elaborates.

“The best time to take someone who doesn’t want to accept the curse is when they’re changed, because it’s harder for them to run away when they’re not used to their new form. And once they’re within the barrier, they can’t escape.”

“That- that’s just cruel!” Seungcheol exclaims, to which Jungsu sighs and says, “Well, a lot of the world doesn’t care if they’re cruel to Cat zodiac bearers or not. It’s partly for their own protection as well. Cat zodiac bearers aren’t treated well outside of this town, Seungcheol-ah. You’ve heard of the reputation we carry.”

Seungcheol falters, recognising what Jungsu is saying to be true. He’d heard the townspeople talk about harabeoji when they’d recognised the bracelet he wore. With no argument, Seungcheol falls silent again, and Jungsu continues walking, Seungcheol following quietly.

“This is the kitchen,” Jungsu tells him softly as they enter, and Seungcheol looks up from his thoughts, observing the happenings of the kitchen. “That man manning the stoves over there is the chef for my generation, Kim Jaejoong. His protégé, the one rolling the dough at the counters, is Park Jisung.”

Upon hearing their names, the two look up from whatever they were in the process of doing. “Jungsu-hyung! Giving the tour, I see,” Jaejoong says, wiping his hands clean and turning the fire on the stove low. Jisung does the same, patting his hands clean of flour and washing them.

Seungcheol bows low, greeting the two. “My name is Choi Seungcheol, please take care of me!” Jaejoong laughs and replies, “No need to stand on formality, kid. We’re all family around here.” Meanwhile, Jisung bows back as well, introducing himself. “I’m Park Jisung! Let’s get along well!” Seungcheol nods to both replies, smiling.

“Alright, alright, I’m sure the two of you still have a lot to do. I’ll continue on with the tour and let the two of you get back to your work, eh?” Jungsu says, to which the chef and chef-in-training nod in understanding, going back to their work.

Jungsu leads Seungcheol across the kitchen to the back door, which connects to the gardens and beyond that, the woods behind the manor. “This is the gardens of the manor, where we have all kinds of things growing here, from herbs used in cooking, to those used in potions, as well as flowers and fruits.

“The current gardener is Kim Junsu, and his protégé is Kim Taehyung. They’re probably somewhere in this maze right now, I’ll introduce you to them later during dinner,” Jungsu tells him, showing him the hedge-maze that was Taehyung’s idea, who is, apparently, a witch that specializes in plants and potions. They walk through the well-worn paths of the gardens to the iron-wrought gate built in the brick wall.

“Remember when I mentioned the lands surrounding the manor in the car? That treeline over there is the beginning of the woods,” Jungsu says as he opens the gate, “The manor lands extend all the way until the barrier, which is the town boundary. Of course, the woods extend past that, but we only own the land up until the barrier.”

They stand at the treeline, enjoying the breeze and the sounds of nature. A cat emerges from deep within the woods, coming up to them for scratches. Seungcheol obliges gladly, squatting down to stroke down its back and between its ears.

“That about concludes the tour, I should think. There are rooms I didn’t tell you much about, because those are mainly for witches and practitioners to use, but there’s two more things I have to tell you. There are many hidden rooms in the manor, some of which I probably haven’t found yet.

If you find them, you get to do whatever you want to them. Contractors and builders are always sworn to secrecy via confidentiality agreements as well as the best lawyers we can find. Of course, you can try building whatever you want by yourself as well.” Jungsu leans against a tree, looking at the view the manor presents against the backdrop of the setting sun.

“Lastly, I have to show you how to open the Cat’s bedroom door. I opened the door for you earlier, but this is a trick all Cat zodiac bearers have to learn. No one else knows how to open our door, so keep it that way, alright?” Jungsu tells him, moving back in the direction of the manor.

Giving the cat one last scratch, Seungcheol stands up, following Jungsu back into the manor and to the door of the Cat zodiac bearer’s room. “Why does the Cat zodiac bearer’s bedroom door require so much effort to open it?”

Jungsu shrugs at the question. “I think one of the previous generations must have been very paranoid. It’s been like this for three generations at least.” Seungcheol frowns, dissatisfied with that explanation.

They come to a halt in front of the bedroom door in question, and Jungsu changes the topic, focusing on teaching Seungcheol how to open the door. “You can’t open this door in the usual fashion,” Jungsu shows him, pushing the door handle like they do for other doors. It doesn’t move, indicating the door is clearly locked.

“What you need to do is to push this panel here, which has this symbol etched into it,” Jungsu points out a panel on the door itself, which has a triangle-shaped triskelion when Seungcheol looks closer at the symbol about half the size of the nail of his pinky.

“Then nudge the one on the doorframe over here with your elbow, and push the door handle upwards,” Jungsu continues, showing Seungcheol each step in detail. With a click, the door opens.

“If you’re inside the room, there’s a button on the floor you can step on to the left of the door. To exit, just step on that button and open the door normally.” Jungsu points to the button on the floor, almost indistinguishable from the regular wood flooring if not for its odd shape, then closes the door, the locks engaging once again.

“Now you try.”

10 August 2010, Tuesday

Apparently all Cat zodiac bearers start a journal, so this is me starting one.

I’ve met almost all of the people living in the manor permanently, I think. There’s the previous generation, Park Jungsu, Jung Yunho, Kim Jaejoong, Kim Junsu, Park Yoochun and Shim Changmin, and then there’s my generation, which has me, Kim Namjoon, Park Jisung, Kim Taehyung, Hwang Minhyun and Min Yoongi.

If there’s regularly so many people living here, an outhouse may be a good idea.

Maybe a treehouse?

[chapter two end]

three

#seventeen #svtcreations #17writers #17writer-net #svt fics #ot13 friendship #fanfic #chaptered

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sinceileftyoublog · 5 years ago

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Another Sky Interview: Blunt and Faceless

Photo by Parri Thomas

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Four faces, obscured by pixelated, crystalized hues of brown, black and yellow: That’s what you see looking at the cover for I Slept On The Floor, the debut album from epic British band Another Sky. According to lead vocalist and lyricist Catrin Vincent, the anonymity works to their advantage. Playing a show at St. Pancras church in 2017, the band performed as silhouettes, perhaps to raise a middle finger to the listeners who kept asking whether the singer was a man or a woman, perhaps to make a point about what we all feel like in a lonely world. “As if we can scrape the color off the iris and still see,” Vincent speaks, referencing these hues on album opener “How Long”, her voice affected by hiss then wavering between her raw opera and sky-high pitch. Over the next 11 songs, Vincent continues to sing about the social plagues and insecurities that bind us all. Independent of the context that inspired them, again, the band’s anonymity works to their universalist advantage.

I Slept On The Floor doesn’t sound like a debut album in words or instrumentation, and to be fair, Another Sky had been releasing music for a few years before it. But it’s a remarkable first proper statement, culled from the best of their previously released and new material. Many of the best tracks do reference the double standard in society’s expectations of women. “Brave Face” was written for a friend going through a breakup, decrying those who consider hiding emotions the ultimate form of bravery. Naomi Le Dune’s spindly bass, Max Doohan’s skittering hi hats, and Jack Gilbert’s skyward guitar licks launch the song into the anthemic stratosphere, as if to give the subject the courage for emotional outpour. “Tree” opens with gorgeous guitar picking that quickly gives way to Vincent’s showstopping vocals. “Sing no words; they’re meaningless when they come from a woman,” she sings, before belting, “You’ll never take mine!” as the instrumentation builds to a breathtaking climax.

But Another Sky are at their most mind-bending when taking on the multitudes inherent in the human condition, the postmodern challenges to Cartesian thought. “I am still here, still happening,” Vincent sings on the title track, vocoded. On closer “Only Rain”, she ends the album with, “I am no one I know / I am nowhere I go,” delivered in layers like a Greek chorus. With steady guitar strumming and drums, she’s able to accept the uncertainty in life, or at least challenges to the ideal. You’re not supposed to sleep on the floor. You’re not supposed to fall out of love with people and in love with cities. The way things are isn’t the way things ought to be--you fight what you can control, embrace what you can’t.

I spoke to the band from their practice studio in London last month--they were predictably thoughtful, wanting to engage in conversation rather than answer questions. We spoke about the record, how the band’s already grown, and their ideas for their upcoming tour (which may or may not be happening given the UK’s new COVID restrictions). Read the interview below!

Since I Left You: What about the debut album is unique for the band in comparison to everything else you’ve released?

Catrin Vincent: It’s still songs from six years ago, but we made it way more coherent. We really thought about the album as opposed to the EP’s, which were groups of songs. The album could be more thought about.

Jack Gilbert: In a way, it’s the best of the last six years, in our opinion, of all we have to offer [laughs]. It’s a bit of a different experience listening to an EP than there is listening to a proper album that’s been constructed whose running order has been thought about and how the songs tie into each other. It’s our first time to show what we’re capable of doing long-form.

SILY: When “Life Was Coming In Through The Blinds” was released on its EP, as a listener, I wouldn’t have known that it would be a continuation of the previous track on this album, with the lines, “Still here, still happening.” Chronologically, we’re you working on a lot of these songs on the same time? Did you know you were going to find a way to make the old songs fit in?

CV: It’s funny, because “I Slept On The Floor” going into “Life Was Coming In Through The Blinds” was actually written after “Life Was Coming In Through The Blinds”. It was written as an interlude for a show at Village Underground in London. It wasn’t going to be on the album, and somehow, it’s become the title track because it feels so fitting. None of the songs happened on a chronological order. We found, over time, a way for the songs to fit together. We spent a lot of time on the order of the album to try to tell a story. We always wrote with an album in mind, I’d say.

JG: We had an idea for an album six years ago, so we’ve kind of been waiting to do one the whole time. The people we look up to make albums and are known for albums. We operate long-term in a lot of ways than a band doing singles, even though we’ve done that. We’ve always had this overarching feeling towards making an album.

CV: It was interesting lyrically. I had to piece together what the album actually meant afterwards. I was worried about that, that it wouldn’t have a common thread tying all the songs together. But actually, not thinking about what the album meant was the best thing that could have happened. The most honest thing came out, and I could look at it retrospectively for what I was thinking at the time. Coming up with a concept for the lyrics, if you come up first with a concept, you’re boxed, you’re kind of caged. We definitely thought musically about the album and how the songs would fit together there. That came live. Touring, we noticed which songs worked together. “Riverbed” always needed to be the third song. We always start the set with “How Long”, so it made sense to start the album with “How Long”.

Naomi Le Dune: And sometimes “Fell In Love With The City” was the second song.

CV: Yeah. That’s so true.

SILY: The interesting thing about the lyrics when listening to the record from front to back--they have a nice balance between being concrete and abstract. To what extent did you balance some autobiography with general or universal writing?

CV: I had a really hard time with it. The older songs I was using a lot of nature as metaphor, and that was unconscious. What I came to realize was that I was scared of saying things, and I didn’t like that. I really got into Phoebe Bridgers two years ago. The bluntness of her lyrics started to seep in, and I started to do that towards the end. It is autobiographical, but it’s not narrating certain events, in a way, which I’d quite like to get into as a lyricist. It was something I struggled with. What do you think of the lyrics: Do you think they could be more literal?

SILY: I wouldn’t say more literal. For instance, the album opens with the line, “As if we could scrape the color off the iris and still see.” You don’t entirely know where it’s gonna go. That first track speaks in those generalities. Whereas it’s a little more clear what a song like “Fell In Love With The City” is about or inspired by. The fact that it bounces back and forth between those two levels felt very organic.

CV: Cool! That is good to hear. I’m glad it works. I didn’t think about reviews and stuff.

SILY: As you shouldn’t!

CV: Exactly.

SILY: Everyone here has mentioned that instrumentally, the album was more deliberate in terms of how it was made. Listening to your discography from the early stages to now, this album does sound, simply put, a lot bigger. What were some of the musical influences that you took along the way to get the sound of this record?

Max Doohan: I think we embraced the live sound of the band more on the album than the EPs. We committed to recording several of the tracks live, which we hadn’t done before. We had the confidence that there was a certain power we would get when we would play together. Tracks like “Tree” and “Riverbed” and “Only Rain” were recorded completely live with minimal overdubs. For the most part, we tried to bring the raw emotion from the live show into the recordings. Before, we saw them as quite separate.

SILY: It allows the words to be more anthemic. How did you approach the interplay between the instrumentation and the lyrics?

CV: That’s a really good question.

JG: We’re always trying to lift Catrin. If that means we’re really loud or aggressive, we will be. It always comes from that place. The vocals are most important to it.

CV: That’s quite a recent thing, though, isn’t it?

JG: I guess so.

CV: Some of the songs, the music was formed. I like music coming first because then it’s like a puzzle piece. It’s a challenge. I have to figure out what the mood of the room is, what everyone’s feeling, and then write something to that. Sometimes, the lyrics inform the songs, like with “Avalanche”. I like having both worlds as a lyricist. I’m really lucky to be in a band where we’re all quite open to trying new stuff.

SILY: You mentioned “Avalanche”, a good example of a track that was written a while ago but still feels very current because of its words on toxic masculinity.

CV: I totally agree. It was actually quite freaky. “Let Us Be Broken” in particular freaked me out. We wrote that before Christmas, and then coronavirus happened. I was reading the lyrics, and I thought, “Oh my god, this sounds like it was written about the coronavirus.” But it’s about health. I was just really freaked out. I guess it is the mood of the world, and it’s largely been ignored just so people can live their lives without cognitive dissonance, so it kind of makes sense that it’s still current. It’s dealing with the wider world.

MD: Stuff that’s going on in the background has now been brought to the fore.

CV: The coronavirus especially brought a lot of these things to the forefront. People lost their jobs, had a lot of time to think, could only think. It feels fitting--that’s a horrible thing to say--I’d rather everything be great and our album not be relevant at all!

SILY: Generally and specifically, how have you been impacted by the virus as a band? Did you have to cancel a lot of stuff?

CV: We just carried on for a while, and we’ve written our second album, pretty much. We still should write a lot more and make it really good. We wrote a load of songs, and we carried on the back of that. But it’s only occurred to me today, because we did a Zoom gig last night, that you tour around your debut album. That’s how you promote it. I was like, “Shit, how are we gonna keep this going? What are we gonna do?!?” [laughs]

SILY: Have you thought about expanding the livestreams you do?

CV: I think prerecords are better. Next week, we’re gonna really focus on making some really nice visuals to go with a prerecorded show.

SILY: The cover art of the record is really striking. It reminded me of when you talked about the anonymity of your performance at St. Pancras, when you tried to obscure the band members.

CV: Definitely. The last lyrics on the album, on “Only Rain”, is, “I am no one I know, I am nowhere I go.” It plays into that vibe. The original melting face came from the artwork for “Avalanche” when it came out in 2018, so it was really cool to continue that.

JG: It felt fitting to us as a band. It’s very striking. That’s totally a reason why we did it, too. To make the album stand out visually.

SILY: That line on “Only Rain” you mention--the timbre of the music is a little bit lighter, and there’s an uncertainty to it. Are you accepting the uncertainty or still processing it?

CV: In my personal life, still processing it, but in that song, it’s complete acceptance. You’ll never quite know who you are because you’re constantly changing. I think you’re spot on there.

SILY: You’ve all answered in past interviews what your favorite song on the record is. Does that change a lot for you?

CV: It does for me, but you guys go.

JG: For me, it’s been “Only Rain” the moment we wrote it. The fact that it got on the album as the last song makes me love it even more.

CV: At one point, it wasn’t going to make the album. We kind of threw it on last minute.

MD: It was “Only Rain” for me, but it’s becoming “Riverbed”.

NLD: Mine is too.

CV: I think we just captured “Riverbed” so well. It’s one of my favorite songs to play.

MD: Especially because we haven’t been playing, but remembering that song during the live show and how powerful it is in the set.

SILY: Have these songs taken on a new life live? What’s your approach playing them: expand upon them or replicate them?

JG: A song like “Riverbed” has been around for a long time, and it became what it is on the album from us playing it live so many times. That is the result of us gigging it. It used to be a lot quieter and more relaxed. We started improvising the end, and it became really heavy. Because all these songs are quite old, most of them have that story. Obviously, as soon as you start playing a song live, it changes almost straight away.

CV: “Only Rain”’s gonna be that way. We haven’t played it live yet. Oh god... “Let Us Be Broken” is gonna be a challenge.

JG: It’s always interesting to see what happens to a song one you start gigging it. You just never know. Sometimes, it’s exactly the same, but rarely.

SILY: The instrumentation on the record is definitely complex. It’s a maximal-sounding record. How did your Zoom gig go?

JG: It was alright, it was just me and Catrin, acoustic. Although the album is big, we’ve done a lot as a band over the years. We always like the challenge of reinterpreting our music based on different scenarios. It was really nice to play our music on just acoustic guitar. You just hear a different side.

CV: It’s nice vocally, as well. When it’s a full rock band, it’s really difficult, because you’re just screaming into the void. Which is really fun! But when it’s stripped back, you can do a little bit more with the vocals. But definitely better full band. We missed you guys [talking to Naomi and Max] last night. We did. The stage wasn’t big enough. I’m glad you weren’t there.

NLD: I had plans anyway. I was busy.

CV: [laughs]

SILY: Where did you play?

CV: Banquet Records in Kingston.

JG: It’s like a really legendary record store just on the outskirts of London. They’ve been doing really good stuff with bands for 25 years. It was really great with the whole lockdown thing to do something with them. It’s always part of releasing an album in the UK--doing something with them. So I’m glad it happened.

SILY: Your sound is definitely unique. Do you feel like you have peers in the London music scene?

CV: Friends that we’ve taken influence from because we’re at uni together.

JG: There’s not so much a scene of bands that sound like us but around this band are a lot of friends who are musicians. I guess so. A few friends in particular haven’t released music yet--

CV: They will be!

JG: Maybe more in particular to what we do than other people we know. We kind of felt like we’ve been on our own, to be honest.

CV: We’ve felt like a little bit of an island, but it’s only now that we’re gaining fans and gaining traction. We want to make our own scene. I’m really into that. We want to produce other people and collaborate--we’re getting into collaborations, we’re getting into remixes. We want to find a scene. We’ve just been this island, floating along for so long. It’s hard--a lot of our friends have had a difficult time getting enough money to release. It is really difficult for musicians. We’ve been really lucky to be able to release through a major and have that budget.

SILY: You’re already writing the next album. Do you already know what it’s going to sound like?

JG: Just bolder and more confident is the goal from our end. We’re trying to simplify, but in a stronger way. That’s what’s in our heads. It might change before the album comes out, but so far it’s been, “Make sure there’s no fat.”

CV: Like steak. Slender.

JG: We were confident with the first album, but it had been built for such a long time, we didn’t know what was gonna work. Now we know what we are a bit more. It’s been fun to be like, “Let’s just do that because we want it.” Hopefully people like it as much as we do.

SILY: What else is next for the band?

NLD: Fame. [laughs] I don’t know, just been cracking to get out of lockdown.

CV: We are gonna go ahead with our tour socially distanced. We’re going to be the pioneers! No, we’re going to try to make it a really good experience and not just a gig, because everybody will be sat down.

NLD: We’re kind of used to limitations, aren’t we?

MD: We have to try to figure out how to play the album all the way through in one gig, basically, and tour that.

CV: Like a theater show, almost. Before we became mainstream--are we mainstream, I don’t know? But before we played festivals, we were performing at people. It might be quite nice to go back to that kind of vibe. It did change when we started playing festivals because we had to blow people’s faces off. Maybe now we can incorporate some of our slower songs back in, make it more dynamic.

NLD: If you give people a seat, they’ll shut up.

SILY: Do you normally have trouble with people talking during your gigs?

JG: No. Just at a random festival when you’re one of 200 bands, and people are just drinking. We’ve done hundreds of gigs like that over the years. We had to learn the hard way that some of our more intricate, delicate songs couldn’t be performed in those situations. Now, we’ve been given the opportunity to do that again. We’re quite excited about it. We’re trying to make the best out of it.

SILY: Have any of you been to any socially distanced gigs?

CV: No. Sam Fender did one two nights in a row. Some people are calling it a success. I like to sit down at a gig. It’s kind of my cup of tea.

SILY: More often than not, if the venue has seats, and it’s on a weeknight, my girlfriend and I will just grab a cup of coffee and sit.

JG: There’s almost an under-appreciation for the gigs where you can sit and take the music in properly. With this first album, it will be perfect for us to perform it in that way.

MD: You’re paying more attention. You don’t have sore feet.

JG: You’re not being bumped into. Less distractions.

SILY: What’s everyone been listening to, reading, or watching lately?

NLD: I’ve been watching Midnight Gospel. I don’t really listen to new music because we’re busy with the band, but the last thing I got was a band called Porridge Radio. I like that a lot. But I’m a bit behind at the moment. I have to catch up.

JG: Same here. Can’t really answer, but Catrin’s been going pretty hard.

CV: I’ve been going hard. She’s not new, but I discovered her during lockdown: Arlo Parks. [Asking Max] I think “Black Dog” is your favorite song at the moment, right?

MD: I think that’s the best song this year.

CV: And let me just grab my Spotify...you know what? Sufjan Stevens releasing an album and so is Keaton Henson.

NLD: Together?

CV: Not together.

MD: Phoebe Bridgers’ new album is pretty cool. I’ve been enjoying that.

CV: Ooh, an album that came out on the same day as ours and I’ve been obsessed with it: Victoria Monet[’s Jaguar]. The string arrangement is amazing, her vocals are amazing. It’s an amazingly produced album. I could go on for hours, so stop me...Lianne La Havas[’ self-titled], obviously. Julianna Barwick, her latest. Dream Wife[’s So When You Gonna...]. I’ll stop. I could go on a long time.

SILY: A lot of vocal-heavy stuff!

CV: That’s me!

youtube

0 notes

sportsgeekonomics · 6 years ago

Text

McDavis vs. Schwarz, Day 1

Cody McDavis and I had a bit of a twitter debate on Saturday. it was a little disjointed and some folks who didn't catch it asked me to reprint it if I could, so what follows is my attempt to stitch together the threads into a chronology. My plan is to add to this whenever Cody replies and we resume things.

Cody: I read, talk, and think about this issue every day, Rodney. It’s not easy to stand up and say, “don’t pay student-athletes.” Especially as a former student-athlete with athlete friends/family.

Andy: can we work through it then? Agree or disagree: w/o the NCAA cap on compensation, schools would choose to pay their MBB and MFB aths more than they do now?

Cody: I’ll answer you if you answer me, Andy.

Cody: Agree or disagree: Non-MBB & FB sports will likely be cut (or made into club sports) if MBB and FB Student-athletes are paid.

Andy: Well it depends. Are we assuming a mandatory level of pay or a voluntary choice by schools?

Cody: Either. We’ve seen a mandatory pay amongst Power 5 schools via COA stipends, which has resulted in “voluntary” (competition makes it effectively mandatory) COA stipends in non-Power 5 schools.

Andy: If you're calling that mandatory we need to have a quick aside on terminology if this is going to be fruitful.

Andy: There is no mandatory pay in the current NCAA. a conference chooses what level to set. There is no requirement in MBB that any school even give one scholarship.

Andy: and there is also no mandate in the P5 that any scholarship be 100%, though they do require a 100% gia to cover 100% of COA.

Andy: in FBS football, the NCAA imposes a mandate -- must give 76.5 GIAs per year on average

Andy: other than that last one, which is very rarely a binding constraint [I can explain what I mean if you want], none of those other things mandate that anyone get a full GIA that includes full COA.

Andy: So if there were a true mandate: to play D1 MBB, you MUST pay n athletes (N>0), $x ($x > Full COA), then I think there is the possibility that some schools would cut other sports. Which is a good reason not to have a national mandate to pay athletes.

Andy: But for the voluntary option, where the NCAA simply removes the cap and say "pay what you want" I do no think schools would cut any sport that they value, and that if they cut sports, it would be ones they did not value.

Andy: Ok, your turn. i can repeat the Q if needed.

Cody: I’ll honor my commitment by answering your question. But allow me to clarify your point:

Cody: If pay-for-play, schools would likely not cut sports they value (certainly, MBB & FB) but would cut sports they don’t value (likely baseball, T&F, soccer, gymnastics).

Cody: Am I correct?

Andy: I am not willing to accept a blanket assertion that schools don't care about those sports. Do you have any schools you could point to that say "we're funding sport X, but only because we have extra money lying around? We don't really care about it."

Andy: Schools have very large budgets and athletics is a small piece of it and Sport X a smaller piece still and no matter whether MBB and CFB are capped in pay or not, a school choosing to fund Sport X is a sign they care about it. that money could always go elsewhere.

Andy: (with the exception of title IX and women's sports. schools aren't free to underfund women's sports even if they do not value them... so my argument applies 10% for other men's sports, but with a caveat for women's)

Cody: That’s fair, I’m not asking for a blanket assertion. I’ll restate it:

Cody: If pay-for-play, schools would likely not cut sports they value (certainly, MBB & FB) but would cut sports they don’t value (some, maybe only a few, non-revenue generating sports).

Andy: I still need an example of a school you think puts on a sport now but doesn't value it.

Cody: The University of Idaho Women’s Soccer Team.

Cody: Link: idahostatesman.com/sports/college…

Cody: Idaho doesn’t care about their soccer team. And they will cut them to keep their FB team competitive.

Andy: OK. So no I do not think Idaho will choose to pay men's football players and as a result cut women's soccer. Idaho has shown it does not value football enough to stay in FBS. I do not foresee Idaho paying MFB or MBB more than now, even without a cap, so no pay driven cuts.

Cody: Okay, I respectfully disagree. Idaho chose to pay COA stipends to their football student-athletes while telling their back-to-back champ soccer team they are going to be cut.

NOTE: I missed this statement from Cody, but it is almost certainly not true that Idaho paid/pays their football athletes COA. I am virtually certain they were one of the very few FBS schools not to do so. I will find a cite if I can.

Andy: The schools we need to focus on are ones that WILL pay athletes if allowed, not those that won't. Idaho being poor is a separate cause of cuts from Idaho paying its players, b/c it's not going to pay its players.

Andy: this is some of why I think we can't make blanket assertions.

Andy: Any other examples?

NOTE: Unless I missed it, there were no other examples given, though I think some came up later

Andy: Ok, your turn. i can repeat the Q if needed.

Cody: Thanks for engaging me on this issue. Can you please restate your question now?

Andy: If schools were allowed to pay their MFB and MBB athletes more than the current limits, would they? (and to be fair, I should be clearer given my own caveat -- would some of them, and which ones do you think would)

Cody: Yes, *some* would, specifically the top schools—Texas, Ohio State, Alabama to name a few.

Cody: But Ohio State has said saying they would cut sports if they paid their MBB & FB student-athletes.

Cody: Other schools would follow (to their own detriment) due to competitive forces.

Andy: Ok, so let's break this own.

Andy: At the schools that you believe will choose to pay their athletes more, would you agree the current system is thus paying them less than their market value?

Cody: I would not, no. Because the market (which includes non-revenue generating sports) would have to demonstrably change for this paradigm to exist. Sports would have to be cut (e.g. Ohio State). So the current market properly values student-athletes.

Andy: ok, so we have a terminology issue again. I'm not talking about an antitrust relevant market but simply a market price in which the parties are allowed to pick any mutually agreeable price they want. That's the hypothetical we're in -- where there is no cap.

Andy: Let's call it the uncontrained price, where the current cap is the contained price.

Andy: I think it follows logically, but maybe you disagree, that you are acknowledging that for some athletes the unconstrained payment would be higher than the current constrained payment. Yes?

Cody: Yes, I think very, very few (less than 1%) MBB and FBB student-athletes would receive a little more than what they receive now.

Cody: But, again, this will result in other sports being cut. That is unacceptable. If we want pay, then we should require the NBA to one-and-done.

Cody: And, to be clear, this is something I have acknowledged for a long time now (even on national tv).

Andy: That's cool -- I am just working through this systematically.

Andy: First, I want to make a point ,which is that when an agreement among firms (like colleges) (a constraint) reduces compensation, that's an accepted definition of economic exploitation. And whether you agree that's ...

Andy: .. a standard economic definition or not, we agree on the predicate conditions. I.e., the current system imposes a cap that prevents some athletes from earning as much as they otherwise would.

Andy: Second, there are 350ish MBB teams with about 12 scholarship athletes.

Andy: 350*12=4200. 1% of 4200 is 42.

Andy: So are you saying that fewer than 42 MBB athletes would get paid more than they do now?

Cody: The @NBA imposes a cap that prevents some student-athletes from earning as much as they otherwise would, not the NCAA, in my opinion.

Andy: that seems like a non-sequitur, but maybe not. Are you saying for your <42, are you assuming one and done is gone?

Cody: To be clear, I said less than 1%, but I will stick with 42 for conversation's sake.

Cody: I am assuming that those 42 MBB student-athletes would go pro right out of high school but-for the NBA one-and-done rule. If that rule is removed, college athletes are properly valued.

Andy: ok, but I think that's really important.

Andy: Are you saying that if one-and-done went away, and also the NCAA removed its cap on maximum compensation to athletes, no schools would pay more than the current levels?

Andy: *in basketball

Cody: If the NBA removes the one-and-done rule, the NCAA will certainly not change its rules. The student-athlete now has a bargain between cash payments from the NBA or in-kind scholarship payments from the NCAA. There is no longer a valid antitrust claim, in my opinion.

Andy: but that's not what we're talking about. I am just trying to understand the world you envision where you think uncapping the NCAA cap will kill off non-FB/BB sports.

Andy: We agreed that w/o an NCAA cap, some schools would raise pay to some athletes, but you said it would be <1%

Andy: and so I am trying to figure out how many because that will help determine whether there really will be an impact.

Andy: Are you saying that when 1-and-done goes away, some college athletes would be paid more by their schools if there were also no cap? or none would?

Cody: I see. Allow me to explain but, if you're okay with it, I would appreciate an opportunity to take this conversation offline thereafter. Twitter is far too limiting a forum to have a fruitful dialogue here.

Andy: sure -- email andy at hbleague.com

Cody: A few <1% of student-athletes would receive pay based on their talents. Many others would receive pay because their school wants to attract equally talent student-athletes, even though they have little chance of doing so. (1/2)

Cody: This is why we see schools with elaborate facilities that have no business having them (and they continue be highly non-competitive). (2/2)

Andy: I don’t understand this logic but we can work through it via email. When you write, let me know: Are you saying some schools will knowingly pay not-valuable athletes more than they are worth when they fail to land the really valuable ones?

Cody: Great, I will email you. Thanks for the dialogue here. I look forward to having more.

Andy: and It may take me a bit to reply -- going to have lunch with my wife.

Cody: Have a great lunch!

NOTE: Alas, there will be no Day 2 of the debate. Apparently I violated the don’t-publicize-things-said-on-twitter rule. You can read the Dear John letter Mr. McDavis sent in lieu of continuing his argument.

UPDATE: Sheilla Dingus has sent in a guest post response. Read it here:http://sportsgeekonomics.tumblr.com/post/184215233678/guest-post-response-to-mcdavis-from-sheilla

N.B. Dan Rascher, mentioned in the letter, had nothing to do with any of this, but in the two cases he has testified at trial involving the NCAA, the NCAA is 0-2.

0 notes

weekinethereum · 8 years ago

Text

July 23, 2017

Ethereum News and Links

Top

SEC finds TheDAO to be a security, but does not pursue enforcement against Slock.it

Context: It was my impression at the time that Slock.it helped conjure TheDAO in order to achieve a technological work around of securities laws. It's not surprising that the SEC fired back and claimed jurisdiction. You could argue that a federal regulator showed admirable restraint in a new technological field, all things considered.

Report affirms that the Howey test is the right way to look at tokens. Obviously some are securities, some are not. Duh.

Fact finding report was rather weak on one of the Howey prongs ("Derived from the Managerial Efforts of Others") which may also help explain the lack of enforcement action.

Real talk: Bitcoin maximalist and ETC FUD over the last few years has claimed that the DAO fork happened because insiders would take losses on the DAO. That always seemed to be nonsense, as few ETH insiders appeared to hold substantial DAO tokens. The rumor at the time was that many people felt forking was necessary to avoid long and painful SEC enforcement actions.

The report laid an expensive yet ambiguous regulatory burden on exchanges with American customers to avoid security tokens.

Catch 22: to not be a security under Howey, a token should have utility value. But if American consumers can't buy the tokens because exchanges are afraid to list tokens, then it's tough for that token to be utilized.

This report ensures that the US will continue to far further behind in web3. Jurisdictional competition is real, and so far regulators have not provided meaningful guidance as to how they will interpret the Howey test for token sales. The investigative report was quite reasonable, yet unfortunately some of the investor bulletin contained strong assumptions that a token sale is a security. [And the SEC was using limited resources to pay for Facebook ads for that investor bulletin?] Mixed messages.

Status quo of ambiguity remains: a non-zero number of projects will continue to choose to move abroad and most token sales will bar Americans from participating.

Only way to reverse that trend is for SEC/Congress to issue either a safe harbor or clear guidance on utility tokens.

Parity bug. An attacker got about $32m USD in Ether from a bug in the Parity multi-sig wallet used by various projects

Bug had just a single code review when it was introduced.

Zeppelin explains the hack.

Jordan Leigh video explainer of the exploit

Timeline compiled by Bok Koo. Hacker first emptied Edgeless, then came back 13 hours later for SwarmCity and aeternity. 5 hours later, the WhiteHatGroup began safeguarding Ether and tokens worth ~$200m and finished in about 7 hours.

How to get your value back from the WHG. The WHG has already returned most of it. Thank you WHG.

But why didn't the attacker take that $200m? It's ridiculously easy to find a target list of vulnerably Parity multi-sigs by finding similar contracts, and the attacker had plenty of time. Presumably that attacker is sophisticated enough to realize how ridiculously harder it would be to hard fork than it was for the DAO. Perhaps the constraint was a byproduct of the DAO fork, but that seems unlikely.

Attacker appears to have picked targets based on Parity's logo. Edgeless, SwarmCity and aeternity all have logos similar to the infinity sympol. [Can't find the tweet where I first saw this in order to cite it.] Parity's logo looks like 2/3 of an infinity symbol. Coincidence? Or personal pique?

Gavin Wood's post mortem. Emin Gün Sirer's.

Protocol

Vitalik: Incentives in Casper finality (see also Reddit thread)

Ethereum + Swarm + λ = Moon, a universal code-interchange format

Stuff for developers

Oyente v0.2

web3j v2.3

Truffle v3.4.6

Truffle breaks 100k downloads

Truffle dapp tutorial on implementing a tracking system for a pet shop

BlockCypher Ethereum API

Building dapps on Ethereum, pt 5: Ethereum Name Service and Swarm

HackThisContract: a site to hack Solidity code

Yoichi: Empty this Ropsten contract written in Bamboo

Eric Rafaloff's Solidity Function Profiler

Releases

web3JS v1.0

Mist v0.9.0 - now with Swarm and ENS support

Ecosystem

Grid+: How we bring stablecoins into the Ethereum ecosystem

MetaCert has a product coming to help cryptoprojects fight scammers

Cocoon - ETH storage with transfers only to whitelisted addresses

I love that Truebit retro website. They're hiring.

Congrats to the 3 winners of the election to be moderator of Ethereum Stack Exchange

PeaceRelay -- transfer between Ethereum and ETC or a private chain

The current state of KyberNetwork's cross-chain relays

SoFi implies that a county has agreed to put a title regisration system on Ethereum

Project Announcements & White papers

OpenLaw - a protocol for binding legal contract on Ethereum and IPFS

Etherep - simple Ethereum-based reputation system, on Ropsten

Dether -- localbitcoins for Ethereum

NuCypher -- decentralized key management?

Project Updates

Status: Where We Are, and What’s to Come

Dharma Protocol -- P2P lending command line testnet release

Bancor's price floor is all gone

Storj announces partnership with FileZilla

Aragon Network Jurisdiction - dispute resolution system

Interviews and Talks

Grid+ on Blockchannel

Arthur Falls talks to Juan Benet, Jesse Clayburgh, and Ryan Zurrer about SAFT

And the same people for a talk about Coinlist

Status Q&A with Block

Stephen King of REX podcast interview

0x at SF Ethereum Meetup

Q&A with Decentraland's Esteban Ordano.

Olaf Carlson-Wee talks to YCombinator

Token Sale Projects

PolkaDot sale in mid-August

Awesome: a Wild Pepe and Vitalik Buterin take over Decentraland

What else could be built

A look inside the Buenos Aires cryptohouse. Mi BsAs querido, cuando yo te vuelva a ver?

AMA with 0x founders

REXMLS: A history

Digital Asset Power Play token model

The District0x voting dapp

Token Sales

TokenFilings - EDGAR-like site for cryptoprojects. Intro post from William Mougayar

More Mougayar: 10 things I don't like about token sales

General

"Dissecting Ethereum" slides from Péter Szilágyi talk

Vitalik seems to share my concerns about Tezos' governance model

btc-e involved in the MTGox scandal?

Where BigchainDB fits in the web3 stack

Epicenter talks to Aviv Zohar & Yonatan Sompolinsky, originators of the GHOST proposal

Delaware's governor signed legislation allowing Delaware corps to use blockchains for record keeping, including the stock ledger.

Brian Armstrong ProductHunt Q&A on Coinbase and Toshi

Dates of Note

From Token Sale Calendar:

Upcoming token sale start dates:

July 28 – KickIco

July 31 – RexMLS

August 1 – Harbour DAO

August 1 – Hirematch

August 5 – Blocklancer

August 7 – Filecoin

August 8 – Decentraland

August 10 – Propy

August 10 – ChronoLogic

August 15 – Ox Protocol (mandatory registration Aug 9-12)

August 15 – BitDice

August 28 – HelloGold

August 31 - Monetha

September 5 – Viberate

September 13 – Unikoin

Ongoing token sales:

Macroverse

NeverDie

Dentacoin

DAO.casino

district0x

Delphi

Indorse

Agrello

ACT

MyBit

Everex

TribeToken

You can find this calendar updated daily-ish at

TokenSaleCalendar.com

Want to be included? If you are building your project on Ethereum, email [firstname] @ticketleap.com or send @evan_van_ness a message with 1) your URL, 2) sale date and 3) a brief description of how you are using Ethereum. Listings are free. But please make sure to follow those instructions.

WARNING: list may include scams. Do your own research and due diligence before putting value at risk.

[I aim for a relatively comprehensive list of Ethereum sales, but make no warranty as to even whether they are legit; as such, I thus likewise warrant nothing about whether any will produce a satisfactory return. I have passed the CFA exams, but this is not investment advice. If you're interested in what I do, you can find my investing thesis and token sale appreciation strategies in previous newsletters.]

I like to share it, share it (Sir Mix-A-Lot style)

Some time in early August, there will be an announcement that I've joined ConsenSys. Here's a logo to draw your eye in case you were going to skip over this section:

I'm very excited about this move and will have significantly more to say in the future. The newsletters should become more regular again! In the meantime, I wanted to make it clear so that you can judge whether I favor ConsenSys projects.

My charge from Joe Lubin is pretty similar to what Status has told me: keep telling the truth and covering the space objectively, even if the truth hurts.

The link for sharing

I measure the success of each issue by how much it gets upvoted and shared. This is the link: http://www.weekinethereum.com/post/163481216423/july-23-2017

Follow me on Twitter? @evan_van_ness

This newsletter is supported by Status.im. But in case you still want to send Ether (or tokens?): 0x96d4F0E75ae86e4c46cD8e9D4AE2F2309bD6Ec45

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villainsarebetter · 8 years ago

Text

Flying Beyond the Sky

Parent Fic: The Dark One finds himself in need of the scales of a specific sort of dragon to complete a deal. Lucky for him, Belle has exactly the sort of scales he needs…but whether she’ll give them to him willingly is another matter.

Prompt: @Anonymous: Dragon!Belle does a little research and discovers something that may be important: dragons can fly to other worlds.

“Rumple?”

“Hm?”

“Do I have any special magical abilities as a dragon?”

Rumple looked up from his spinning with a confused blink, turning his gaze on Belle where she was sitting in a plush chair by the fire. She had a thick tome in one hand and a skein of golden thread wrapped around the other, regularly running it through her fingers and sighing at the sight, smell, and feel of it. (She must have taken it from one of his store rooms while he wasn’t looking. By this point, he was sure at least half of her trove was composed of his thread. But if it kept her from trying to make him one of her treasures, he was just fine with that.) Her focus was on the book and her brow was furrowed in concentration and confusion.

Curious, Rumple pushed back his stool and walked over to look over her shoulder at what she was reading. Obligingly, she tilted it so he could see the title.

Mikkael’s Draconica

He snorted contemptuously.

“I should think you know better than to believe anything you find in rubbish like that. You know far more about dragons than whatever fool wrote that book.”

“Rumple!” Belle was well-accustomed to his scorn by now, to the point where she shot him an amused, exasperated look rather than being offended. “I’m hardly well-learned on the subject even if I do have some, er, ‘practical experience’.”

It was Rumple’s turn to snicker. A sound that Belle valiantly ignored.

“It’s just, he seems to have everything right so far. I’ve heard of all of the breeds he lists as local, the sizes and physical traits are right, he talks about dragons’ attraction to gold and ability to breathe fire…”

“Something any brain-dead knight could tell you.”

“I’ve known plenty of knights and none of them could list dragon breeds, I’ll have you know. But what I’m really interested in is this chapter on magical abilities.”

“Hm?” He prompted her when she petered off hesitantly.

“Well, most of them belong to eastern dragons or those that live in extreme climates like Arendelle or Agrabah, but there is one trait that might be found in the Enchanted Forest. I mean, I’m not a real dragon, I know that, and a natural dragon would not have the discipline or intelligence to learn magic but-.”

“Belle.” He cut off her rambling. “What are you talking about?”

She looked up at him, blue eyes wide and slightly slitted, a sign of her dragon-self peeking through. “The ability to fly between worlds.”

Rumple froze. The world seemed to screech to a halt around him. Finding Bae was always close to the front of his mind, no matter how distracted he became, and suddenly their conversational diversion was extremely important.

“Let me see that.”

Startled by the harshness of his tone, Belle surrendered the book without protest, watching as he snatched it up and flipped swiftly through the pages, reading impossibly, inhumanly fast. It quickly became obvious that there was something wrong; after reading only a few sentences, Rumple yanked the book wide open so hard that the binding creaked in protest. (Belle had to bite her tongue to stifle a protest against such book abuse.) Then he started pacing frantically, walking circuits of the room so fast that Belle’s head spun from trying to keep track of him. It quickly became apparent that he’d forgotten her presence entirely. In fact, it was necessary for her to pull her legs up onto the chair to avoid tripping him on accident.

Even her draconic instincts wanted to flinch away in unease; the Dark One’s power was escaping his control, causing the very flagstones beneath her feet to vibrate and the artifacts littering the room to rattle alarmingly. That had never happened before. Not even at his angriest had he released even a flicker more power than he’d intended.

He read through the entire chapter twice, flipping through the pages faster than Belle had thought possible even for him, then re-read the passage she’d pointed out to him a dozen more times. As he devoured the words, his hands started to shake and by the time he finally looked up from the book, they were trembling so badly that he could barely hold it straight.

Finally, he stopped pacing and simply stared at Belle, eyes wide and glassy. There was no sign that he actually knew she was there. For the normally alert Dark One, this was extremely out of character and Belle could only stand the leaden silence for a minute before breaking.

“So…it is true?” She ventured cautiously.

His eyes abruptly snapped into focus, piercing her with such an intense, desperate stare that she flinched backwards in unease. He was the Dark One, all knowing and always confident. What could he possibly be desperate about? What could make him look so vulnerable?

“I…don’t know.” His voice was smaller than she’d ever heard it, entirely different from his usual self. “It might be. Yes…it just might be. I need to research this.”

In a puff of purple smoke, he vanished with the book, leaving a very concerned dragon in his wake.

It was a week before Belle saw him again. During the first three days, she patrolled the Dark Castle and surrounding mountains, counted and polished her treasure, went flying for the sheer pleasure of feeling the wind rushing past her wings, and ultimately tried not to worry about Rumpelstiltskin or his bizarre reaction to her simple question. He’d expressed his irritation about her prying into his personal affairs in the past and whenever she tried, the fallout seemed to cause strife between them so this time, she did try to leave him alone.

However, nothing distracted her from her worry. Even a few shiny golden baubles that she liberated form a bandit on the second day did not hold her attention more than a moment.

The most worrisome aspect of the situation was the silence. She’d been separated from Rumple before for much longer while he was away making deals (though never happily or gracefully) without feeling nearly as worried – but she’d always known he was away and that he could take care of himself. Now, she knew he was in the castle somewhere but he’d completely isolated himself from her. When she finally gave in to her worry and started pacing the halls calling his name, he did not respond, not even to tell her to stop making noise. He wasn’t in his tower laboratory and he did not appear in a puff of smoke to yell at her to get out when she intruded, he wasn’t at his spinning wheel, he wasn’t in any of the libraries, bedrooms, ballrooms, dining areas, kitchens, or miscellaneous supply rooms…and when she started trying to force her way into the locked rooms that he’d expressly told her to avoid as a last ditch attempt to command his attention, there wasn’t so much as a peep uttered in protest.

After a week with no sign, Belle was nearly out of her mind with worry. He’d made no deals and his spinning wheel was actually getting dusty, something she was sure had never happened before. When she finally heard something as she passed an out of the way locked room in the West Wing (forbidden, but if he wanted her out he could damn well show up and tell her that himself), she didn’t even pause. With dragon-born strength, she smashed it open, knocking the lock clear out of the wall, and found herself confronted with Rumpelstiltskin.

He looked…human.

Oh, he still smelled of gold and magic and she was sure he was still covered in scales (though she could not currently see them) …but there was a certain presence the Dark One usually projected that was even more integral to his persona than his magic and that was completely missing. He was sitting with his elbows braced on his knees, shoulders slumped and head drooping so that his face was obscured by his dangling hair. His hands were folded in on themselves, holding something that commanded his entire attention but which Belle could not make out. All in all, he looked more like a man who had made a bad deal with the Dark One rather than the Dark One himself.

Slowly, the young woman ventured into the room. She was torn between apologizing for interrupting and being angry that he had worried her so badly. However, he didn’t seem to notice her. Despite his physical health, the sense that there was still reason to worry weighed on her.

After a long moment of being ignored, she ventured a quiet, tentative: “Rumple?”

No response.

He had to have heard her in the dead silence, so she did not repeat herself. Instead, she looked around the room – not moving but examining it with her eyes.

It looked startlingly out of place in the Dark Castle. There was simple wooden furniture pushed up against the walls, rough but made with care and love – the work of an untrained peasant, not a woodcarver – a child-sized wooden bed with a sagging straw mattress, a crooked chest with a mismatched lid and broken latch at the foot, a rickety, unstable wooden stool, and dusty shelves on the other side of the room holding toys, clothes, and other similar everyday items – they would have been more at home in a peasant-child’s room rather than displayed as treasured trophies in a locked room of the Dark Castle.

Rumpelstiltskin was sitting on the bed, completely frozen.

Step by step, Belle made her way closer to him, waiting for him to realize she was there and fly into a rage. Her dragon instincts were more proactive, demanding that she curl around him and fix him, regardless of what was actually wrong - but, with effort, she suppressed them.

After a good ten minutes, she was standing directly before him, still unacknowledged. And now she could see what was clasped between his hands: a picture.

A drawn picture of a child, a young boy with something very familiar about his features.

She wasn’t able to fully suppress her gasp, and this time, the imp’s entire body seemed to flinch. But he still did not look up.

“His name is Baelfire.” He explained, tone distant and lost. Belle wasn’t sure he even realized who he was talking to – it sounded like his mind was somewhere else entirely.

“What happened to him?” After a long silence, Belle felt it necessary to prompt.

Rumple let out a shaky sigh and his head dipped even lower. His tone, when he finally spoke, was one of heartbreak. “I lost him. I…I let him go.” He made it sound like the absolute worst fate in existence.

“What-what happened?” Tentatively, waiting every second for him to reject her violently or flee, Belle sat on the bed next to him.

And finally his head came up, meeting her eyes with an expression that matched the loss and grief she’d heard in his voice. The Dark One had been entirely stripped away and, for the first time, she really felt that she was looking at Rumpelstiltskin.

In halting words, the story gradually poured out. His story, from long before he was the Dark One and her treasure, back to a simple peasant and his son, a war that could not be won, a monster who was really a man, a treacherous fairy willing to manipulate an innocent child, and a horrible mistake that had never stopped haunting him.

Midway through the story, Belle placed her hand on his leg but he didn’t notice. His eyes were half-lidded and hazy, lost in the past, and when he eventually ground to a halt, Belle understood everything. Baelfire had been lost to a different realm…and Rumple had just learned that dragons could fly between realms.

(For now, she would not consider the Blue Fairy’s cold-hearted manipulation and cruel decision not to tell Rumple that there were other ways to travel to different realms. But she would not forget it.)

It only took a second for her to decide on her response.

“So, when do we leave?”

“Belle…” There was wonder in his expression, wonder for her that made her chest swell and if she’d been in dragon form, she would have arched her neck and wings to preen. His dawning hope was both heartbreaking and heartwarming and she knew he was feeling that because she was willing to help.

“Rumple.” Her hands came forward to cup his where they were still clutching Baelfire’s picture. “Let me help. Please.”

“…Okay. Thank you.” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to suppress his emotions. “Thank you.”

Preparation to leave commenced instantly and it was a somber, tense affair. Rumple rushed around, trying to pack everything that might possibly be of use in the world without magic, leaking an air of barely suppressed desperation the entire time. He didn’t use magic, either; every action was accomplished with his own hands and reached using his own feet – entirely, worryingly uncharacteristic and human. Now, when she looked at him she did not see the Dark One – she saw a concerned father.

It would have been heartwarming if he hadn’t been so obviously terrified about traveling to the world without magic – another emotion she had never expected to see in him. Watching him flutter about in distress made her want to scoop him up and secret him away with the rest of her treasure, curl up around him and protect him until the cause of his fear passed.

Her human reasoning kept her from acting on that instinct, motivated by the knowledge of Rumpelstiltskin’s love for his son. He needed to feel and experience this before they could leave just as much as he needed to pack everything he could think of to keep himself alive without magic. He did not need to be protected and distracted.

However, he did not try to stop her from following him as he rushed about, nor did he try to pull away from her frequent touches that she couldn’t quite suppress every time he looked worried. Sometimes he didn’t seem to realize she was there and other times he actually seemed comforted, another vulnerability he’d never allowed himself in her presence before. Once, he actually let her hug him and stood shaking in her grip, calming but refusing to meet her eyes.

Gradually, a huge pile of supplies took shape in the main hall. Most of it was purely practical: food, clothes, clean water, and gold. If Belle hadn’t already known he’d once been a peasant, his choices would have made it obvious – there were few luxuries (which would have been the bulk of any noble’s choices) and those were precious magical artifacts that that would be of great use if the world without magic held even a trace of magical energy. Her treasures – which he had graciously agreed to bring – made up the bulk of the frivolous trinkets. The final items to be added were a children’s ball, an aged shawl, and the picture that Rumple had been clutching the other day –handled like priceless, fragile treasures. The last thing Rumple did was ward the Dark Castle, making it impossible for anyone to find it or get inside – just in case they returned someday.

Half a day after Belle had learned of Baelfire’s existence, they were ready to go. On Rumple’s instruction, she transformed into her dragon form and he used magic to fit a harness over her back and chest and pack everything securely into place – he had a magical blue box that would hold everything, a ‘pocket realm’, but did not know if it would work in the world without magic and did not want to risk losing everything. If it did work, they could pack it when they arrived.

Once it had all been arranged to his satisfaction, he transported himself onto her back in a puff of red smoke. She could feel the warm weight of him and when she lifted her head, he grabbed at her scales and molded himself to her spine as best he could.

There was something viscerally satisfying about carrying all of her treasure at once, including her imp. Especially since he wanted to be with her and she was actually helping him by doing this.

“Okay.” His tone was grim but he still clung to her gamely. “Let’s go!”

With a fierce bugling roar, Belle leapt into the air, leaving the Dark Castle and the Enchanted Forest behind.

Rumple clung to Belle’s scales with dogged determination. He hated heights. Even knowing that his magic would save him if he fell off, there was a deep-rooted instinctual unease associated with having his feet so far up in the air – just another expression of his cowardice, he thought privately. Belle loved the feeling the wind in her face and the ‘freedom of the sky’, as she called it, but Rumple was much happier firmly planted on the ground.

However, that didn’t matter. If flying was the only way to reach Baelfire, then Rumple would not let his cowardice hold him back. Not again.

He couldn’t quite suppress a high-pitched grunt of panic (which was certainly not a yelp) when Belle banked suddenly, the great sails of her wings arching to catch the wind so she could soar higher. She could not hear him over the rushing of the wind but she felt his white-knuckled grip dig into her neck and made a concerned crooning sound.

“Don’t slow down!” The Dark One snapped when she tried to moderate her flight to make him more comfortable. “We’re almost there!” His grip grew even tighter, pulling uncomfortably at the scales on either side of her spine.

Belle let out a gusting breath in a concerned sigh, but obeyed. She understood his urgency – she just wished it didn’t take such a toll on him. If he kept on in such a heightened state of tension, which seemed to be escalating the closer they came to their goal, then he’d be in no fit mental state to think clearly when they arrived.

For his sake, she hoped that their mission went the way that he wanted it to. If Baelfire rejected him after he’d spent nearly three hundred years fighting to find him or, worse, if the boy had perished after leaving the Enchanted Forest, it would break Rumple entirely. Not just his heart, but his mind and probably his soul. She’d never realized just how fragile he was until he told her about his past and his beloved son – or just how close he was to shattering.

It was surprisingly easy to break through the barriers between realms – she wasn’t even breaking them, really. The Draconica had not had much detail on how to actually accomplish the transfer, but Belle found that it was much like breathing fire: if she simply relaxed and allowed her dragon instincts to take over, interpreting her will, then it came easily.

Rumple was directing her using a locator spell powered by his own blood and Bae’s shawl so she had a clear heading when her instincts finally said there and the leading edges of her wings began to prickle. It felt like flying through a thin sheet of paper, which stretched like rubber and then abruptly gave way…along with the world. Everything around them seemed to stretch and twist, the colors running together impossibly like melting wax as Belle beat past the barrier…and then they were separating again into the familiar sights of night sky and dark water with the faint dark lump of an island in the distance illuminated by moonlight.

It didn’t look like much. Just as Belle was wondering how an entire world could be so tiny, she felt Rumple startle badly against her back.

“What?” He snapped, voice loud and upset in the still night air. The edge of fear and suspicion in the tone alerted Belle to the fact that something was wrong. “This isn’t the world without magic. What are we doing here? If you’re playing me, dearie….”

Belle made a protesting growl at the implied threat and arched her wings so that she could slow down and look over her shoulder at him in indignation. Her next growl was accompanied by a quelling look at the enchanted shawl that Rumpelstiltskin was using to direct them.

If he felt any regret for his hasty words, he did not show it. Instead, he hastily re-applied the potion he’d used to cast the spell in the first place – and, when the result came up the same, he sent a direct tracking spell at the island. (And that use of magic rejected any possibility that this was the world without magic.)

Even Belle, untrained in any sort of sorcery other than her draconic abilities, could tell what the resulting white glow on the shawl indicated.

“He’s here.” Rumple breathed. Every muscle in his body seemed to relax all at once, to the point where Belle worried he might lose his grip on her and fall…but then he went rigid, the relief sadly short lived and horror overcame him. “Bae’s here. In Neverland. With Pan.”

After a brief struggle with his emotions, his face hardened into an impassive mask. His eyes fixed on the dark island on the horizon and his hands twisted against the dragon’s scales.

Without needing any more direction, Belle turned and flew for the island.

They would find Baelfire. They would save him. And they would bring him home.

#Rumbelle fic #Monster Month #creature!fic #dragon AU #dragon!Belle #creature!Belle

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