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soldatshandler · 16 days

Text

Cold Metal.

summary: Soldat's arm gets cold. You are the solution.

warnings: Post!HYDRA Winter Soldier, Bucky is still in the mindset of Soldat, brief descriptions of medical care such as IVs, needles, malnutrition/refeeding and starvation effects, PTSD, post!HTP only brief mentions of past SA and abuse. Past S/H, scars, and trauma. Roughly translated Russian, might not be accurate.

a/n: Yeah so this turned into a lot, I wrote more than I expected to. This is also my first 'fic' of him wooo. I always had this hc that his arm gets cold and it hurts him. The scars being more sensitive to the cold and cause tension around his arm. So I thought something like this would be nice. He deserves it okay ;; wc: 3.6k

At first, it was hard. Harboring a literal assassin from the government was not an easy task, especially with one as unstable and deadly as the fucking Winter Soldier.

How you ended up doing this, you had no idea. Someone like him wasn't easy to just stumble upon, yet here you were. Maybe your heart was too good, but seeing him curled up in that alley a few days ago, shivering and soaked to the bone, a dislocated arm and bloodied from what you assumed was some kind of assault, you couldn't just leave him to the elements.

He had looked so scared, his eyes so full of confusion and apprehension when you initially approached him. He instinctively reached for a weapon at his side - a gun, a knife, anything - but found none, and the panic of a wild, cornered animal spread on his face. He even attempted to stand to fight you, like you bored any sort of threat to him. You just put your hands up in a manner to try to calm him, something as simple as standing caused him pain. He clearly had more injury than what your eyes could see.

You weren't sure how, but you had convinced him you were a safe person and that he could stay in your home. You were just trying to be a good person. He looked so scared, pressed into the wall of the old building and trying his best to look intimidating despite all the injuries that covered him more than the rain soaking his clothes. Ironically, you didn't know just who he was until you had began to delve into the news...a day after you let him into your house. Everything about him being wanted, his crimes, who he was. A sleeper agent, an assassin, the deadliest in the world. And you brought him into your home. Willingly.

Sure, at first you didn't know what to do, the fist of HYDRA sitting in the corner of your spare room, lashing out like feral dog if you came close, or god forbid even stand in the doorway. With how deadly the news made him seem...to you, he didn't appear that way. He just looked hurt and scared. His defensive behavior easily mistook for aggression.

But, none of it scared you away. You didn't care. You might've just been a regular civilian, but you were far from ignorant. You were sneaky, you knew a lot about both parties, SHIELD and HYDRA. You immersed yourself in research, learning as much as you could about HYDRA to get more information about this sleeper soldier.

Despite your efforts, you only scratched the surface.

Honestly, you didn't want to dig too far. You didn't want him to grow suspicious or think you couldn't be trusted for any reason. He already holed himself up like a hermit, it was literally like placing a feral animal inside a home and watching it search around curiously but anxiously, then hide away in a small, dark place for safety. Besides, what HYDRA had on him was disturbing enough.

He was quite aggressive defensive at first too, he didn't want you near him whatsoever. He had a lot of wounds and you knew he'd need to see a doctor, despite the physical ones you saw, you could also tell he was underweight and malnourished a little bit. You weren't a doctor yourself, and you didn't want to attempt to do anything without some kind of advice. Problem was, he was wanted. You couldn't just take him to see a doctor.

"Must things be so complicated with you?" You sighed as you spoke to him while he practically barricaded himself in your closet. You didn't mean anything serious, you were just a little stressed and frustrated, thinking of what you could possibly do to help.

In the midst of your thinking, you remembered you had a close friend who worked in the medical field. They might have done some...questionable things...but that's honestly what you need right now. Someone who wouldn't blabber, and all above and below, you kept some pretty serious secrets for them in the past. You didn't talk anymore, not very often anyway, but they were always down to help you out if needed. It would be much better than trying to drag him to an office where he'd be discovered and you'd have to wrestle him down, which would be a pathetic attempt to restrain him.

Long story short, a quick home visit pursued with stolen medical equipment and a basic check up, it was confirmed he was malnourished like you suspected. He wasn't terribly thin, but you could tell someone his stature shouldn't be so skinny, his ribs protruded too much for your liking. He was also dehydrated along with having an extensive amount of old and new injuries, an untreated dislocation, and some minor infections.

The soldier surprisingly didn't fight that much when he was getting checked out, his blue eyes glued to you the whole time, only averting to watch the 'doctor' as they moved around him. But nothing could be too easy, when the needles came out, he became a bit adamant and aggressive. He spoke in Russian, which you didn't understand. He shouted and sounded angry, backing himself into a corner as he prepared to fight like his life depended on it. His body trembled with adrenaline and he watched the two of you with an unblinking, cold gaze.

You realized it was bad. His treatment prior to you finding him. He acted like a needle was a raging hot blade about to cut his other arm off. Patience and waiting him out proved to be the best way to approach this. He was stubborn and stood his ground for two full hours before he slowly relinquished and he allowed the needle to go in for the IV. With a quick rundown from your comrade, some supplies, and promised confidentiality, they left you both alone.

You also learned how to place an IV, thanks to the instructions left with you and some YouTube videos, since you had to do it every day for two weeks so you could feed nutrients into his body. Everything he ate he just threw up, his body rejected food otherwise. Broths and mashed potatoes were all he could eat. Sometimes his body would tolerate bread and heavier, more filling foods like chicken. He eventually got to eating some veggies like soft carrots and zucchini if properly cooked too.

You still had to feed him carefully. Sometimes his body would still throw it all up and he'd get sick again. It was a grueling process.

You stuck it out and now he could slowly eat again, which was a relief. No IV necessary. He seemed glad about that too.

Besides refeeding, there was an array of issues that came along with being his unofficial caretaker. The Winter Soldier, or Soldat, as he referred to himself as, it was better than asset, was pretty difficult to care for. He was wary of just about everything, you specifically, he didn't know why you were so nice to him. He wondered if you had an underlying motive, his scrambled brain so torn apart tried to connect the dots.

Rewards came with good behavior, rewards being basic human decency and kindness. Good behavior meant pleasing his handlers.

You never wanted to be pleased. You never asked.

Was he supposed to do it anyway?

He watched you as you cooked something in a big pot on the stove. He saw you chopping carrots. He liked those. He liked the broth you made him too, and the potatoes. Good, this was safe food. Another reward? Was he supposed to do something?

You walked over to where he sat, his icy gaze watching you carefully. He was thinking behind them, you could tell, but he barely ever spoke besides simple Russian words that you learned either meant 'yes' or 'no,' or other things like 'please' and 'thank you.' While you set down a glass of water for him, he reached out and grabbed your waistband, leaning forward suddenly. The touch surprised you and made you bristle, your hand snatching his wrist instantly. "Soldat! No, no." you pulled his hand away, it nearly melted off you. Your sharp words startled him, her flinched back a little, his gaze still dull but now held a hint of confusion.

He tilted his head, frowning. "Позвольте мне служить вам." he grunted, his voice rough and raspy like he had swallowed broken glass, so unused, it was the most he had ever spoken to you at once. And you had no idea what he said.

"Don't do that, Soldat." you reasoned, speaking gently, you weren't angry, just a little shocked. The confusion on his face was clear, and fear that flashed in his eyes made you swallow the sudden lump in your throat. Why had he done that? He had never tried to touch you in any way before, in fact he avoided any kind of touch possible. Now he had tried to...you weren't sure. But the cool metal that hooked into your waistband made you shiver.

He leaned back into the couch, looking scolded and anticipating something, he was tense and stiff. You watched him, he said nothing else, his eyes glued to the floor, not daring to tear away from the spot on the carpet to look at you. He seemed scared.

"It's okay," you spoke up after a few silent moments, "You don't need to...do anything." You had a good idea of what he was trying to do, perhaps some sick mindset or conditioning had trained him to serving people before you. You knew HYDRA well enough, it wasn't a long shot to assume. The agents there were barbaric and inhumane.

He ate his food quickly and quietly, refusing to look at you the whole time, then retreated to the guest room like usual. He locked himself away most nights, you were fine with that. He was eating and sleeping, two things he desperately needed.

You sat on the couch watching a show you enjoyed, it was well into the evening by now. The bustling city now quieter and dark, the sun had set hours ago. The door to the guest room slowly opened, your attention drawn there and away from your show. Soldat nearly stumbled over his own two feet, he appeared visibly irritated, in pain somehow. It made you sit up, his expression wearing how he felt as obvious as day. "Hey...what's going on? Are you hurt?" You stood and padded over to him, to your surprise he hadn't backed away.

"Да..." he replied in a groggy, rough voice, the strain dominated the sleep and you felt more worried. For the most part, he looked okay, no obvious injury that you could see. You still tried to look him over just in case there was something he might be hiding, or maybe he hurt himself? He wasn't wearing a shirt, his skin looked fine, all old injuries as far as you could tell. Healing wounds and scars, nothing looked new or irritated.

His metal arm was cradled slightly, so you paid more attention to it. "Your arm hurts?" You asked gently, your eyes scanning it. You weren't entirely sure how his metal arm could hurt, but the tech was advanced so maybe there were some nerves somehow integrated in there. He gave a sharp nod, securing your suspicions.

"Okay...where?" You hoped maybe he'd give you more of an idea, but you doubted it. If he did speak, you didn't know Russian, it would be pointless.

He pointed to his shoulder, where metal met flesh. The nasty scars there were swollen, but that didn't look any different than usual. You observed the area regardless, looking over it for several minutes before you frowned and leaned back. You couldn't see anything that would give away any sort of pain. "How...does it hurt? It looks okay, is it internal?" You questioned slowly, hoping he would tell you, in English...

He shook his head sharply again, jerking side to side. His brows were tightly knit together and a hard breath huffed out of his nose. He reached up with his right hand, his fingers carefully touching the scars. He was so tentative, like the scars were scorching hot, or like he was afraid to touch them at all. "Холодный." His voice came out with underlying discomfort, he had to force himself not to wince.

You frowned. Of course not.

"Uh...-"

"Холодный," he repeated, his tone more firm this time like he thought repeating the word would make you understand. The expression on your face just made him feel frustrated, he grabbed your wrist with his right hand and pulled your hand up to his scarred shoulder. You weren't sure why you flinched or tensed like you expected some sort of pain, but you did.

Under your palm, you felt the stark contrast between the hot, irritated scars and freezing cold titanium.

Cold.

Was that what he was trying to say? That couldn't feel good.

"Is...your arm...hurting because it's cold?" You asked slowly, trying your best to read his face. He nodded once, grunting.

You felt stupid now. Damnit. "I see...okay, let me see what I can do." You pulled your hand off his shoulder, walking over to a small storage closet you had down the hall. Your eyes scanned the shelves until you spotted the heat blanket you had stored in there for the colder months. You grabbed it and walked back over to him, "Here, if you plug this in and drape it over your shoulder, it will keep you warm."

You offered the blanket to him, he stared at it for several seconds before he stepped closer to you, his hand around your wrist and pulling your palm to his shoulder again. You frowned a little and looked at him, "Your shoulder was cold...right? This will help, I promise." You didn't move your hand, you weren't sure what he wanted other than to warm up his arm. "The blanket will be warm."

"Нет." Soldat stared down at you with an empty expression, his eyes had heavy, tired bags under them and showed his clear lack of sleep. You weren't sure what he wanted other than the blanket, since he was refusing to accept it. Instead, he held your hand over his shoulder, sliding it gently down towards the front where his scar was deepest. You could feel his chest rise as he breathed evenly, his eyes almost closing completely.

Did he like how your hand felt?

You remained silent as he gently guided your hand along the length of his scar, where the unforgiving metal pierced his flesh and embedded itself beneath the surface. Your own breath hitched feeling it, the cold, rigid tissue gradually warmed under your delicate touch, responding to the gentle friction of your fingertips. As he continued moving your hand in a soothing motion, you noticed his tense features begin to soften, the lines of worry etched across his face slowly fading away.

The soft intimacy of the moment hung heavy in the air, you found yourself captivated by the subtle changes in his expression, each twitch and relaxation of his muscles didn't go unnoticed. Maybe he was finding comfort in your presence after so long. He had never been this vulnerable with you, and yet here he was, literally grabbing your hand and making you touch his most delicate wound.

"Do you like my hand there...?" The words escaped your lips in a whisper, barely audible. Your eyes, fixed intently on his face, sought to decipher every nuance of his reaction. You watched closely, noting the slight parting of his lips, the flutter of his eyelids, and the almost imperceptible nod that followed your question.

He was so tired, somehow still standing. "Да..."

"Ah...I see. You like my hand there? Does it feel good to rub the scars?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your eyes traced his features, taking in every detail as you gazed up at him. Those dark locks of his hung slightly in his face, creating a disheveled yet alluring frame around his eyes. His hair was messy and tangled, clear evidence of disturbed sleep. The dim light from the tv caught the stray strands, making them stand out against the dark.

He gave a quick nod once more, his body inching closer to you in a subtle yet deliberate shuffle. His eyes, filled with an unmistakable longing, conveyed that he desired something more from you - perhaps your touch, your warmth, or simply your continued presence. "You know," you reasoned gently, your voice soft and caring, "the blanket would help warm up your entire arm, much better than my hand. Plus, it would make you much more comfortable if you decided to rest in bed..."

Even with your logical suggestion, it was clear from his intense gaze and body language that he was far more interested in you than in any blanket or physical comfort you could offer. His focus remained fixed, as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him in that moment.

You exhaled deeply, slowly withdrawing your hand from his body. A fleeting expression of panic flickered across his features before quickly fading. His gaze then fixed upon you, tracking your movement as you made your way towards the couch. You reached for the electric blanket's cord, plugging it into the nearby wall outlet. The cord snaked across the floor, a thin line connecting comfort to power. Your hand then moved to pat the cushion beside you, a silent invitation.

Maybe his earlier behavior wasn't rooted in discomfort or mistrust, but rather in a more fundamental human need.

Maybe he craved companionship, but it was hard to tell for sure, he was a stoic stature 99% of the time.

He approached with hesitation, his feet dragging across the floor as if each step required immense effort. His eyes darted around, scrutinizing the spot as though it were an elaborate trap waiting to be sprung. After a solid few minutes of tense silence, he finally lowered himself onto the couch beside you, his movements slow and calculated.

You opened your mouth, ready to suggest he cover himself with the blanket for warmth, but before the words could leave your lips, you found yourself gasping sharply as the heavy soldier unexpectedly collapsed against you.

His full weight pressed down, pinning you to the couch as he sprawled across your body. The shock of his ice-cold metal arm against your skin sent a jolt through your system, causing you to shiver involuntarily. Desperate for warmth, he burrowed his shoulder into your side, seeking out your body heat with an almost primal urgency.

The blanket, forgotten in his sudden move, lay crumpled beneath you both as he clung to you, his form trembling slightly as he absorbed your warmth through the layers of clothing between you. He certainly favored you over it.

"Ah, Soldat...-" You began to speak, but your words were abruptly cut off by a sound that was equal parts growl and whine emanating from him. His head found a comfortable resting place on your chest, and you could feel the gradual warming of his arm as it pressed against your body. He made it abundantly clear that he had no intentions of shifting his position anytime soon. Recognizing the futility of any attempt to move, you resigned yourself to your current predicament, secretly relishing the closeness.

Despite your newfound role as a human pillow, you still managed to reach for the heated blanket nearby. With careful movements, so as not to disturb his apparent comfort, you gently draped the warm fabric over his form. This additional gesture didn't seem to bother him in the slightest. He sunk even further into the embrace, clearly content as long as he maintained his position pressed firmly against you. The combination of his body heat and the heated blanket created a cocoon of warmth that threatened to lull you both into a peaceful slumber.

You knew he had settled and probably wouldn't move from this spot, he had gotten too comfortable and he was asleep by now. His heavy eyelids having closed almost instantly after maneuvering into you like a demanding cat. His messy hair smelled like your shampoo, since that was all you had to use for him.

Since it was apparent that he wasn't going to get up from his spot anytime soon, you resigned yourself to sleeping on the couch with him for the rest of the night. His cold shoulder and arm were now buried against you, your body heat gradually warming the metal and soothing the sore scars he had accumulated over time. You let your arm rest gently on his back, a bit cautious at first since you weren’t sure if he was going to react, luckily he didn’t. Your head was supported by the arm of the couch, which was quite comfortable. You were happy and relieved that you had settled on the comfier set when you bought the furniture, it made the situation more bearable.

With the soft sound from the show playing, you let your eyes close and you both slept on the couch. Before sleep overtook your mind, you wondered if this was a one time thing, if he'd return to his usual behavior tomorrow, or if this would become a regular gesture he'd want from you. Had he been silently suffering from this the whole time? He's a little heavy...but he's sleeping and that's good. You're helping him sleep. You're helping his pain. If he began seeing you as a source of comfort, then so be it.

Better that than anything else.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

Cover images from Pinterest. I do not claim them as my own.

#bucky barnes #winter soldier #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #james buchanan bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #captain america: the winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes comfort #🐞my works

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yuurei20 · 4 months

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Sorry if this was asked/addressed before, but do you consider the Twisted Wonderland Novels to be canon compliant, canon divergent, or maybe a little bit of both? Thank you so much!

Hello hello! ^^ Thank you for this question!

The Twst novels are fascinating, and seem to be accomplishing a multitude of things at once: we get insight into things that are barely hinted at in the game, like the scorn Riddle suffers post-overblot, the respect he holds for Leona and how he wants to learn from Malleus.

・Riddle and the consequences of overblot ・Riddle's confession ・Riddle on Malleus

We also get complete changes to things established in the game, such as the retconning of our introductions to Leona, Vil and Azul. ・Meeting Leona ・Meeting Pomefiore (pt1)) ・Meeting Azul (pt1)

And, most interesting of all, we get a lot more detail into things that also might be happening in the game, but we were just not told about it due to the limitations of the visual novel medium:

・Yuuya's First Class The prefect is not exactly welcomed by the students of NRC, with no one but Ace and Deuce willing to acknowledge them. ・Yuuya Fails After being supported by Ace, the prefect fails to support him in return ・The Classroom Tensions between Savanaclaw and Diasomnia students ・Riddle and Unique Magics Information on how unique magics manifest. ・The Overblot Battle Ruggie and Jack work together to defeat Leona ・Post-Overblot Leona (the flashback monologue) Leona's fear of giving up. ・Trusting Riddle Ace and Deuce's relationship to Riddle.

Due to how some things are being completely changed I think it is safer to consider the novels as a different canon unto themselves, but they are also a great frame of reference to apply to the game!

→ What language is being spoken in Twst? It is never specified in the game, but we know the language at novel-NRC is not Japanese!

→ What is the roommate situation at NRC? While we have a few hints in the game, the novel has explicitly explained the rooming situations!

→ How many students are there at NRC? Again we have a few hints here and there in the game, but the novel has given us a solid number :>

While things like the above three points might not apply to the game at all they are a useful reference for fanfic purposes, for example, until such a time that they are confirmed or denied by game canon.

And there might be times when the novels are even making corrections to in-game oversights 👀

In Book 1, for example, Ace is unable to repeat Chenya's full name after hearing it for the first time.

The problem: Ace is well known for being talented at mimicry, imitating tongue-click sounds he learns from Rook on his first try in order to communicate with hedgehogs.

The solution: Both the novel and the manga corrected this scene by having Deuce, not Ace, be the one who struggles to repeat Chenya's name.

Did they realize at some point that Ace not being able to mimic Chenya goes against an important character point, which they then corrected in the other two mediums? 👀

As the novels are coming out after the game, this could mean that there is a possibility that they are actually more accurate to the characters in some ways, as the creators have had a chance to review previously established points and make adjustments accordingly ^^

(The author for the novels, Hioki Jun, is both one of the original writers of the game's events and vignettes along with Yana, and a member of Yana's personal studio, D-6th!)

While maybe not canon to each other, both the novels and the game are most enjoyable, and I highly recommend them both!

English-language translation of the first novel coming out this August! 🥳

#twstask #twisted wonderland

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thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai · 8 days

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The beauty of accidental marriage proposals

Yuuri very likely didn't intend to propse to Viktor at the airport but his heart knew what it (and he) truly desired and twisted his words into a proposal—or rather something akin to a proposal that resulted in a spontaneous engagement.

Let's unpack this.

Yuuri returns from the Rostelecom Cup with his mind full of things that he wants to tell Viktor. While we don't learn the details, his inner monologue in the previous scene gives us a good idea of the things he's mulling over.

Yuuri has convinced himself that Viktor will abandon him after the Grand Prix Final. Thus, that competition is his final chance to win gold and he's determined to fulfil the promise he made in his speech in ep. 5 and win that medal. But even if doesn't win gold, there is one thing that he feels he needs to do after seeing skaters and skating fans react to Viktor becoming a coach at two consecutive competitions.

Regardless of how much Yuuri has profited from Viktor's support, he is very conscious about the fact that Viktor belongs to the ice. Or at least that is what his anxious brain has convinced him of. In this sense, giving up his own career so that Viktor can resume his own is an act of love and the only possible solution for them to stay together (in Yuuri's brain).

We never learn about the end of Yuuri's contemplation, but the subtext of the next scene implies that breaking up with Viktor is not an option. Or if it was an option, it was off the table once he was back in Viktor's arms.

Since Yuuri has anxiety, it's safe to assume that he has been overthinking his talk with Viktor over and over during the flight, going through all kinds of scenarios based on Viktor's imagined reaction. After hours on the plane, his brain must have been on the verge of exploding, casting poor Yuuri into a state of total overwhelm. If you have anxiety, you can possibly relate.

However, the moment that he spots Viktor, his mind goes blank and instinct takes over as he runs into Viktor's arms and instead of whatever speech he has prepared, he just blurts out the following line:

僕も考えてた。引退まで僕のこと—　お願いします！ "I've been thinking, too. Please take care of me until I retire!"

The English translation is a bit messed up here. In the original, Yuuri never uses the word coach in that line. "Please take care of me" is Japanese proposal language. The translators probably didn't recognise this nuance and sadly, the nuance is still lost in the Bluray version.

But that's why Viktor recognises the proposal in Yuuri's words.

However, based on the details given and the illogical ways anxious brains work, Yuuri intended to inform Viktor about his retirement plans and to voice his desire to make the most of the little time he thinks they have left. But that's not what his heart wants. And since episode 5 we know what that is:

初めて自分から繋ぎとめたいと思った人、それがヴィクトルです

A more accurate translation of that line is "The first person I want to tie myself to and never let go is Viktor" because 繋ぎとめたい means wanting to tie someone / something to you and never let it go (see this translation error masterpost).

Of course, Yuuri doesn't want his relationship with Viktor to end and no matter if his anxiety his skyrocketing in the face of the GPF looming ahead, that desire has taken root in his heart and brain. However, his anxiety stops him from proposing actually and turns his addition "until I retire" into a gentle prodding to find out whether he and Viktor are on the same page.

And of coruse, they are.

And it's all Yuuri has wished for. He's been anxious the whole time. Until Viktor recognises the proposal and response with a yes in the same fashion that Yuuri has asked.

To wrap all of this up:

Absence nurtures desire and in this case, the time apart has shown Yuuri and Viktor how much they want to be by each other's side. Because he missed Viktor so desperately, Yuuri's heart wins over his anxiety for once and enables him to tell Viktor his deepest desire. By recognising said desire, Viktor is able to accept the proposal and the two boys are now officially engaged. And that's yet another beautiful aspect about this show.

Unfortunately Viktor didn't really catch the part about the retirement, which will result in him thinking that Yuuri wants to break up when Yuuri announces his retirement plans in Barcelona. On the other hand, knowing that Viktor wants to stay by his side forever is a huge relief for Yuuri and allows him to enter the GPF without any emotional baggage.

Bonus: look at that cute tiny smile right between Viktor recognising the proposal and the second hug.

For further readings related to this please check out:

Japanese dating culture in YOI

Unwrapping "Let's end this"

On Yuuri's top-secret love life

If you enjoyed this meta you might like to check out my YOI canon works on AO3 or just support me by reblogging this post.

#yuri on ice #katsuki yuuri #viktor nikiforov #viktuuri #yoi #yoi meta #my yoi meta #reblog appreciated #anime #gay figure skating husbands #had to get this out of my system after I discussed that in the chapter notes of CYHMH

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starks-hero · 2 years

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Avert Your Eyes from Your Demise, Though Lovely It May Be

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x human!Reader

Summary: In which giant spiders aren't the only threat Mirkwood has to offer.

Word Count: 4.0k

Warnings: they're high on Mirkwood mist the whole time. Do with that what you will.

Translations: Siúlóirí portaigh - bog walkers (Irish) , amrâlimê - my love (Khuzdul) , lansel - love of all loves (Khuzdul)

a/n: I know movie Thorin is described as 5'2ish but I write him as 4'8 - 4'10 because it's more book accurate and because we should embrace this short king. Anyway, I call this 'the intimacy of going insane with your crush.'

You couldn't shake the unease. Even now, as you sat at the edge of a clearance, bark biting harshly into your back, you could almost feel the forest closing in on you. Shadows scurried above you and the air itself was stale.

Your company of fifteen had quickly fallen to a number of just two, with only yourself and Thorin making it through the mist-clouded trails together. Neither of you were certain what had become of the others and given the eeriness of your surroundings, you didn't want to give it too much thought.

A sudden gust of wind rushed through the clearing and the limbs of the trees creaked inward. It was as if the forest was breathing.

“We have to find the others,” you said. Your voice sounded foreign and far off.

Thorin was pacing in front of you, twisting the hilt of his sword in his hand. “They would know well enough not to linger in these woods. We keep heading East.”

“Which way is East?”

“We follow the river.” You didn't miss the beat of uncertainty before Thorin's answer.

You shook your head. “We don't know where it leads.”

“It will lead us away from here which is good enough.”

Almost to emphasize Thorin's point, the surrounding trees creaked and groaned and another shadow scurried overhead. Caution steered your hand to the hilt of your sword and following Thorin's order, you moved on swiftly.

The forest felt too small and too large all at once. Branches knabbed and tore at your clothes and skin, the twisted limbs of rotting trees giving you no option but to duck or crawl beneath their roots. A glance skyward reminded you that this place, in all its foulness, was unending, the tree canopy stretching miles above your head and blackening out the sun's light.

That was if the sun was still up. You'd lost track of the time what seemed like hours ago.

You came to a sudden, harsh stop as your front rather unceremoniously met Thorin's back. With a quiet grunt, you found the reason for stopping was a tangled thicket of twisted branches that now stood before you. The tree, in all its obscure glory, seemed to consume the path entirely, its limbs too thick to cut and trunk too tall to climb. Too tired to think of a solution, you found yourself uncharacteristically willing to give up. Until Thorin shrugged off his furs.

You watched as the grey fabric rolled off his broadened shoulders and revealed his shirt, knotted pattern running up the arms.

“I'll go first,” he took the liberty of explaining as he bunched the furs together and placed them in his pack. “It will be easier for me to get out should I need to.”

You would have liked to argue but Thorin, a regularly stubborn fool, was surprisingly right. He was shorter, his limbs less likely to snag. His dwarven frame would move through the thicket much easier than your own.

He disappeared into the grove, swallowed by bark and darkness and you already found yourself questioning why you let him go alone.

You kicked at the dirt beneath your feet as you waited. Eyes set on the trees, you felt increasingly uneasy. You picked at the leather of your sword sheath. Thorin was a capable warrior and you didn't doubt his ability to defend himself. But something wasn't right, you could feel it, crawling on your skin and putting your hairs on end.

Giving in to impulsiveness, you followed after Thorin.

The branches clawed at your skin and snagged your clothes. You pushed aside what you could, rotting wood giving way easily beneath your palm, but as the many limbs began to swell into trunks, it became increasingly difficult to move. Your chest was pressed uncomfortably against the rough bark. You were never one to fear tight spaces but the sudden inability to take a deep breath came as an unwelcome shock. Just as panic had you reaching for your sword, relief found you in the form of the dwarrow prince.

With renewed determination, you mustered a final push and freed yourself from where you were wedged.

Thorin stood with his back to you, stance stiff. You called his name and he hushed you quickly.

His eyes were set on the tree line ahead of you. His gaze was hard, analytic and you didn't fail to notice how his fingers grazed the hilt of his weapon. He turned to you.

“Do you not hear it?”

“Hear what?”

As if the bugle of battle had been sounded, Thorin's stance shifted and in one swift, fluid movement, he drew his sword. His free hand guided you further behind him. Then, he shot forward, swinging his sword at an invisible target. His expression was one of determination as well as unmistakable fear. Another aimless swing and he turned to you.

“Can you not see it?!” He barked, frustrated at your unwillingness to help.

You raised your head and all but willed yourself to see anything but the winding trails of the forest. But despite how hard you employed your imagination, you saw nothing. Somewhere in the treeline, a bird took flight.

An uncomfortable recollection settled in the forefront of your mind. A shiver ran up your back.

"Thorin," Your hand cautiously fell against his shoulder. He turned to you with fire in his eyes but your expression made him pause. “Gandalf said a dark magic lay over this forest.”

At your words, his defensive stance melted away and defeat took its place. The elvish blade fell from where it was held at his side as he looked around and the fear in his eyes slowly shifted to confusion, then realisation.

“It's toying with our minds?”

You swallowed. The thought made your skin crawl; the idea of the forest as its own conscious entity was a horrifying one. That its magic could sink its claws into your mind and deprive you of your senses, keeping you walking in circles till your feet gave in. The entirety of Mirkwood was one giant spider's web and you hated to think what that made you and Thorin.

“We just need to keep our wits about us and our feet moving forward,” you managed eventually, casting weary glances towards the trees. "Now that we know what's happening we have the upper hand, we stay together, stay vigilant and keep our minds clear."

Thorin felt the sudden need to commend you for your calm demeanor and sudden leadership. But he'd also just attempted to fight a non-existent enemy so he decided saying anything at all was against his better judgment and settled for a curt nod instead.

Your plan fell apart comedically fast. You tried to remain optimistic but as you passed the same tree stump for what must have been the fourth time, you felt as though the forest was laughing at you. Your feet ached as though they'd been walking for days. You could hear each of your breaths echo as they came and the thud of your boots against the earth shook your bones.

The child-like laughter had started not short of an hour ago. Thorin couldn't seem to hear it.

When the rough terrain of rock and dirt softened into the cold, squelching mud of a bog, you both silently agreed that a break was needed. You sat at the end of the wetland, where the moss and reeds sprouted up between damp rocks. The water was gloomy, tinged grey and dark green with a sinister mist resting upon its surface.

The dreariness of the place seemed to seep into your bones.

Thorin sat an arm's length from you, hands braced against his knees as he looked out over the bog with a sullen stare.

“What do you see?” You asked.

“Fire." He said no more and you didn't pry.

In an attempt to ease the aches that had set deep in each of your muscles, you pulled your water canteen from where it hung against your pack. A cool drink of fresh water would be a small but welcome relief that you wouldn't take for granted.

But the liquid was thick and warm as it touched your lips and when you pulled it away it was coloured red. You tossed the canteen away with a grunt of disgust. It unceremoniously met the surface of the water before sinking into the mud.

“We need to leave this place,” you said, hands threading through your hair and pulling at the roots. Thorin didn't argue.

You walked until you felt the leather of your boots threatening to give way. You thought one of the trees you had passed seemed familiar, distinctive enough from the rest of the foliage that it stood out.

“We've been here before,” you said. “We're going round in circles.” You turned to on your heel and found no sign of the dwarf.

“Thorin?”

The eerie silence of the forest echoed back to you.

“Thorin?!”

The feeling of unease returned tenfolds. Shadows crawled above you and the wind quivered through the trees. The mist had worsened, hiding your feet beneath its thickening grey clouds.

But then, like a lifeline being tossed to a drowned sailor at sea, you heard your name. Far off and faint, but your name all the same. Spoken in a voice that flooded you with relief. Calling after him, you followed the resonating sound of his calls until they led you to the point where the water met the soil.

Logic quickly took a back seat as your desperation to find Thorin had you stepping off the path. You sunk immediately, the bog swallowing you up to your knees. You pushed through the thick, sluggish mud, ignoring the burn it caused in the back of your legs. The voice became clearer until his form finally appeared, carved out from the mist.

"Thorin," you greeted him with a smile. But Thorin's expression did not mirror your own. His brows were drawn together and every ounce of air vanished from your lungs when an unsteady hand reached out to cup your cheek.

“I was so worried." Your name fell brokenly from his lips. "I feared I'd lost you.” His hands, shaking and trembling, ran down your arms then back to the swell of your shoulders. His breathing was labored and you could only imagine what Thorin must have witnessed to put the usually stoic king in such a state.

“You're alright? You're not harmed?"

You shook your head and gently grasped Thorin's wrists and he smiled, softer and more sincere than you had ever seen him. The sight made you feel at ease for the first time since stepping foot in the forsaken forest.

"I am glad, Amrâlimê.”

You were not well versed in the culture of dwarves but you were no fool either. You had heard the word spoken among the dwarrow people you'd crossed paths with in the Blue Mountains, noticed the tenderness and sincerity that always encompassed the word, how it was never said with any amount of offhandedness. The word was a confession itself, a confession of the highest kind.

And Thorin had just spoken it to you. As if it were the simplest thing on Earth.

Your confusion must have been evident as Thorin smiled again, the corners of his eyes creasing in amusement.

“You must not look so surprised, my love,” his thumb grazed your jaw. “That I should wish to call you by such a name.”

“What–” You managed in a clumsy attempt to make it known to the dwarf in front of you that you had no idea what was going on. “Thorin.”

The king didn't answer. Rather he kept his eyes fixed on you, coarse fingers working their way from your jaw up to your temple, then brushing just beneath your eye. He touched you as if you were made of something more precious than all the metals held in the great halls of Erebor. And despite the nagging feeling in the back of your mind, in that moment you would have been content to stay there.

In the bogs of a cursed forest with your friends lost and your mind bewitched, all so that the king would keep looking at you as he was now.

But your better judgment, (or more likely, the uncomfortable feeling of mud and bog water dampening your clothes,) brought you back to reality. You moved to speak again but Thorin stopped you.

“It's alright, we're safe here, you and I,” he promised. “You needn't think of anything else.”

You tried to ignore how believable his words sounded as you took a step back. Hurt flashed in the dwarf's eyes.

“No, no we need to find the others. The company–”

“–will find their own way,” he calmed you, hand reaching out again to touch your shoulder. It sent a jolt of warmth through you. “You carry so much, endlessly worrying for the well-being of others. But you needn't burden yourself any longer, lansel. You know what it is you desire, what you deserve. So take it.”

You closed your eyes at his words. His hand found the back of your neck and you allowed him to draw you in closer.

“Let it be just us. Stay with me, Amrâlimê. That's all I ask.”

You had never felt such temptation in all your years. Would it truly be so wrong of you? To allow yourself to have this after all you'd persevered. You had long given up trying to convince yourself that you felt something for the dwarven king. That his bravery, stoicism, and unbridled loyalty to his people didn't fascinate you. You had wanted Thorin since not long after the journey's beginning. And now he wanted you too. There was no reason to keep this from yourself, no reason you shouldn't have it.

But somewhere in the back of your mind, was the persistent reminder that something was wrong. A reminder that resurfaced in the form of Bombur's cooking and Bofur's songs and Balin's stories and Bilbo's immeasurable trust in you. Your friends were still lost and that proved enough to bring you back to rationality.

“Thorin,” you started sternly.

“Forget them,” he said, as if he already knew what you were going to say. “Forget everything else. It is just us now. All is as it should be.”

You felt a tinge of discomfort at his words and you took another step back. Thorin would never forsake his kin, not if he was in his right mind. He traced your cheek again and this time you grasped his arm in a strong enough hold to pull it away.

You caught sight of his hand out of the corner of your eye and what you saw made you feel ill. The skin was rotting, bones threatening to tear through their paper-thin bonds. The fabric of Thorin's clothes had vanished and your nails had sunk into the rotting flesh which had begun to fall way in your grip.

You yanked your hand back in disgust, tripping and falling backward into the water at the sight of the creature. A gaping hole sat in the center of its face where you imagined its nose should be and a rigid crack served as its mouth. Green threads of damp mossy hair sprouted from its head and hung in front of the hollow cavities of its eyes.

An Siúlóir Portaigh. A creature you hadn't crossed paths with since you'd last traveled East of Gondor.

A bony hand reached out for you and you shot yourself backward, scrambling to your feet. Thorin's deep voice had been replaced with a low rasping gurgle, the sound growing louder as the creature lunged for you.

You turned and ran.

Thorin's voice had grown hoarse from calling your name.

He had turned away for one moment and you were gone and now as he searched, he feared to think what may have become of you.

His feet sunk into the ground beneath him, water reaching his ankles and soaking through his boots. Reeds sprouted up from the water, the smallest brushing his knees and the tallest towering a foot above his head. With a grunt, he pushed on.

The wind howled as it passed through the hollow chamber of the reeds and Thorin felt the hair on his neck stand up. Then, a shadow passed in front of him. He instinctively reached for his blade. It pushed through the long grass as it approached him but the glint of familiar armor has him dropping his sword.

“Thorin!” You beamed as you reached him. “You're alright. I lost sight of you in the fog.” You grabbed hold of his arms and Thorin was taken back by your sudden brashness. “I'm so glad I found you.”

He watched you for a moment, his joy at finding you unharmed outweighing the odd tinge of suspicion he felt. He cleared his throat and tilted his head forward in a curt nod.

“We must get back to the others.”

He turned to walk on but your arms held him in place.

“You needn't worry, they'll be alright,” you said casually. “As will we.”

Thorin offered a baffled look that doubled as a warning. He was uncertain what had caused your uncharacteristic forwardness and in all honesty, wasn't quite sure what to do about it.

You raised your head skyward and smiled again. With no shortage of confusion, Thorin followed your gaze

The sun had come back up and its light was seeping through the leaves above his head. The forest's canopy turned golden, as if set alight by dragon fire. Thorin's expression softened.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” Your hand found his own. “We could stay here, Thorin. You and I. Imagine it.”

Thorin blinked. He could stay here, with you. He could tell you everything he'd been longing to say since the escape from the goblin tunnels and the orc ambush on the cliffside. After all, why shouldn't he? Did he not deserve this after so many hardships? You could truly be together, you could offer him a new start, a new home– Thorin blinked again.

“And what of Erebor?”

You seemed amused by his question. You brushed his braid away from where it hung against his jaw and Thorin surprisingly let it happen.

“Erebor lies half a world away, a buried kingdom of dust and despair in the clutches of a dragon. Is it truly worth so much? Worth so many lives lost,” you asked. “We have everything we need here.”

And Thorin could only think about how right you were; your hands in his, the feel of your fingers brushing his hair, the rising sun and golden leaves– he could want for nothing else.

“Do you not want for this?”

“I–” he tried.

“You have done honorably by your people, Thorin, but you have been selfless for far too long.” He closed his eyes as you spoke. “Choose not what is right by them but by you. No more pain, no more fear.” He could feel your breath against his cheek. “Just us. Stay with me, my love.”

And Thorin decided in that moment that he would.

Your legs ached and your lungs burned.

The bog was becoming harder and harder to navigate but you were yet to find Thorin and you did not plan on stopping till you were certain he was safe.

The water grew shallower and you took it as a blessing. With your lower half free of the mud, you drew your sword. You rounded the trunk of a decaying tree and were met with a horrific sight.

Thorin, with decaying hands grasped round his neck and a deformed maw nearing his face. Thorin stood in a trance, eyes glossed over and body stiff. The siúlóir's mouth widened, rotting skin tearing as it did. Its nails dug into the side of Thorin's neck, harsh enough to draw blood. Still, he didn't move.

You acted on impulse. With a quick lunge forward, you drove your sword through the creatures back, twisting it twice before pushing it deeper.

Its screech was inhumane. It grasped at its wounds, its guttural yowls putting your hairs on end. You ran it through again. The siúlóir went quiet and Thorin screamed out.

“No!” His voice was distraught, his hands grasping at the creature as it slumped to the ground. “No–!”

“Thorin!” You grabbed his shoulder and roughly yanked him back. He raised his head and looked at you as though he'd seen a ghost. “It's alright– it's alright, it's me.”

His gaze fell back to the creature at your feet and given the twist of horror and disgust in his expression you figured he was now seeing it in its true form.

“Siúlóirí portaigh,” you muttered under your breath. “Bog walkers.”

Thorin blinked before taking in his surroundings with frantic eyes. He regarded you with a cautionary look. He said your name and when you nodded, you saw his stance relax slightly. His fear turned to confusion. “What–”

“They were going to drown us,” you answered plainly. You nudged the creature's shoulder with your heel and watched it sink a few inches into the water. “We need to go, this place will be crawling with them.”

Thorin wanted to question how you knew so much about such monsters but given how desperately you wanted to leave their hunting ground, he prioritized.

He offered one last glance at the creature, body now mostly submerged in the sullen water. He shuddered at how well the creature had worn your face, how much its voice had mimicked your own. How easily fooled he'd been.

He silently followed after you.

You walked until the mud on your clothes had hardened and the silk webs coating the trees had all but vanished. The leaf canopy above you had thinned out and the surrounding forest was now warm with the sun's light. The moment you heard a nearby bird song, you knew the dangers of Mirkwood had passed.

Thorin rested against the trunk of a sapling. His gaze was focused on something over your shoulder but given the blankness of his stare, you knew he wasn't looking at anything at all. You took a seat at his side and began to tend to his wound.

A nasty gash ran from the back of his neck to just below his throat. You worked silently. Thorin didn't even seem to notice until you applied a fraction too much pressure and with a sharp intake of breath, he turned to you.

“Sorry.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Thorin spoke.

“What did you see?” he asked you. “That creature, it toyed with my mind, showed me things I longed for that I hadn't even admitted to myself. So what did it show you?”

“Nothing.” The lie came easy. “Nothing of worth. I've dealt with siúlóirí before, they feed you lies, draw you in and then drown you before you even realise you're in danger. Whatever you seen, I wouldn't linger on it.”

Thorin seemed almost saddened by your answer. But it vanished as quickly as it had appeared, he gently brushed your hand away and got to his feet.

“We keep heading East.” The usual stoicism had returned to his voice. “Dwalin would know to do the same. If we do not regroup with the company in a day's time we head back the way we came and search.”

You nodded and got to your feet like a soldier following orders.

And as you fell into step beside the dwarf you thought maybe it would be best to take your own advice. To pass what you'd seen off as baseless lies not worth thinking about. But the feel of Thorin's shoulders brushing your arm reminded you that would be no easy task.

You entered Mirkwood wondering if what you felt for the dwarven king was more than just fondness. Now you were certain.

quick authors note: I invented the siúlóirí an portaigh for this fic and the name translates to ‘bog walkers/walkers of the bog’ in Irish. It was pretty fun combining two of my interests, writing and folklore, to create my own mythological creature :)

#I like to imagine that reader is dúnedain #and that Siúlóirí Portaigh inhabit the dead marshes po #because i love adding unnecessary lore to my fics 😌#thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x you #thorin x you #thorin x y/n #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit fic #lotr fic #lotr imagine #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit

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yuzu-all-the-way · 10 months

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Official statement from Yuzuru Hanyu - he and his partner have taken the decision to part ways because of constant harassment and stalking by media outlets

Updated with a more accurate translation:

If I could, I'd throtle all the tabloids, media and people who have caused them so much trouble that they saw divorce as the best possible solution

#i fucking hate this #yuzu deserves all the happiness in the world #yuzuru hanyu

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cripplecharacters · 2 months

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What kinds of AAC would work best (and for which situations) for a character with severe expressive aphasia? I know it impacts the brain's ability to put together language in many forms, not just the ability to produce spoken words. So I'd imagine things like text-to-speech, writing things out, etc, aren't going to be the best solution.

Modern setting, by the way.

Thank you for your ask! For someone with difficulty putting together sentence, an aac board would probably help! They could use a high tech AAC tablet

Or low tech AAC pages/cards.

AAC boards can range in complexity, from one page with a yes and no option to boards with layers of options. It depends on what the user is comfortable with/able to use.

With these types of boards your character can easily find the words they want to use and use them to communicate, even if they aren’t able to make a fully grammatically accurate sentence.

Quick note, both the examples given have pictures on a lot of their words, but this isn’t a requirement for AAC of your character doesn’t need the use of symbols to understand the meaning of words.

Some other options could be drawing, gesturing/‘miming’ what they mean or limited use of sign language, though these would work best with people who know them enough to be familiar with this communication, who could also translate for them if needed.

Have a nice day!

Mod Rot

#carenrose #mod rot #aac users #expressive aphasia representation #speech disability representation

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dreamings-free · 9 months

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‘A dirty nightclub in an arena’ – behind Louis Tomlinson’s Faith In The Future World Tour

Louis Tomlinson and his tight-knit touring crew traverse the world in close to 80 shows, fulfilling a ‘dirty nightclub in an arena’ brief with a dynamic live campaign.

Production Profiles 5 January 2024

Following the success of his record-breaking Live From London livestream, which reportedly raised over £1m for touring and live events personnel and charitable organisations, Louis Tomlinson and his tight-knit crew have toured the world twice over. This time, visiting sold-out arenas in Europe and the UK with a cleverly networked live production with abstract video and lighting and a ‘no frills’ approach to sound, which guaranteed that every ticket holder experienced the same show, regardless of where they stood, sat, or screamed (more on that later). With close to 80 shows under their belt, TPi visited London’s O2 arena ahead of the production’s penultimate date of 2023.

Words: Jacob Waite Photos: Justin De Souza and Oli Crump

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“A team effort is required to get this show off the ground,” explained Technical Manager, Sam ‘Kenny’ Kenyon, who has been a fixture of Louis Tomlinson’s live output since joining as Lighting Crew Chief in 2019. “This has been a complete redesign, and the production has expanded and gotten more complex, which requires different solutions to make it happen.”

Kenny and the team oversaw the deployment of an A and B rig. “We’ve been fortunate for the European stint that the venues we’ve toured have, mostly, been arenas. The main difference between the A and B rig is the addition of IMAG and further lighting header trusses. Aside from that, the A rig fits everywhere. If anything, we’ve run into weight issues, which we can overcome swiftly by removing overhead trusses.”

For the first few shows, Riggers, Ian Bracewell, and Alex Walker incorporated load cells on trusses to get an accurate rate and account of the weight of the load of each truss. In the UK, The Brighton Centre had a particularly low-rate roof with weight limitations. Production Manager, Craig Sherwood and Tour Manager, Tom Allen’s vendors of choice included: Altour (travel), Beat the Street, BPM SFX, CSE Crosscom, Colour Sound Experiment (lighting, rigging, and video), Hangman UK, Boxcat Studio and Two Suns Creative (video content), LED Creative, Ox Event House (custom light housings), Sarah’s Kitchen, Seven 7 Management (artist management), Solotech (audio), Stardes Trucking, and TANCK (production design and video content).

There was no video director, as the show’s visuals were programmed and interspersed with live footage and triggered by a lighting console at FOH, thanks in part to an intricate network setup. “There’s a lot going on in racks that people never see, but it has been stable thanks to the quality of kit supplied by our vendors, who have invested heavily, and the team taking the time to programme the show,” Kenny noted.

Key to the success of the operation was the incorporation of Central Control software, which takes a signal from a lighting console, be it ACN or Art-Net, and translates it to talk to various products – in this case, video. “There is a giant brain that nobody knows exists other than those that have programmed it,” he added.

Additional crew members joined the tour in Europe to aid the video deployment and lead to far more efficient load-in an -outs. “We are close to 80 shows in and on days where we have access to multiple trucks, it comes out very quickly, which for a show of this scale is impressive and credit goes to the team,” enthused Kenny. “The biggest hurdle is when you’ve only got a two-truck dock.”

Prior to the tour, the team had five days of production rehearsals spent in Connecticut’s Mohegan Sun. “When we came to Europe a week later, we had a week of re-prepping with a day of rehearsals at Hamburg’s Barclays Arena, the day before a show,” he described. “It’s been a fun and long run,” added Stage Manager, Torin Arnold. “We’ve visited a good range of venues and countries – especially the Eastern European legs, visiting places you wouldn’t ordinarily tour and experiencing how they operate. This show is designed so it can be accomplished in any part of the world.” Carpenter, Harry Reeves was also on hand to support the build.

The routing, however, was sometimes challenging with some late arrivals and difficult border crossings. “There were a few times in Eastern Europe where we were doing a ferry back-to-back to arrive at 11am, sitting at a difficult border crossing. We usually start with a 7am mark out, so knocking hours off your load-in is tough but everyone pulled together to overcome it,” Arnold explained, noting that touring without staging, and instead, using venue stages (particularly rolling stages), was a blessing during those late arrivals. “As with any tour, as dates progress you build a rhythm while maintaining the safety of the build,” he noted.

Arnold also highlighted the benefit of Lead Truck Driver, Neil Thornton and Truck Drivers, Matt Marlow, Ben Woods, Sarah Goldsmith, Bob Miles, Alam Minshall, Franco DeRosa, and Ollie Thornton who “speed up the process” and maintained a level of consistency.

The transitions between support acts before Louis hit the stage was equally seamless, with ample downstage space for the singer-songwriter to traverse during his performance. “Having a clean frontline means we have space to get the bands on and off,” he added. “Our vendors have also provided everything from an audio package standpoint for support acts, which also speeds up the load-in and -out.”

Highlighting a ‘bucket list’ show at Hollywood Bowl, working closely with US union officials as a “fun” and “interesting” experience, Arnold reflected on the entire tour with crewmembers he now considers close friends. “This is a close team and I’ve made some great memories and stories. It’s been a fun year!”

A DIRTY NIGHTCLUB IN AN ARENA Production Designer, Programmer and Director, Tom Taylor, and Francis Clegg of TANCK have worked with Louis Tomlinson ever since he made the leap to solo artist. “The production design has evolved into an angular, grungy, asymmetrical setup, borne out of the ‘dirty nightclub in an arena setting’ creative brief I was given,” Taylor said, citing the creative influence of Matt Vines and Seven 7 Management. “Louis is a phenomenal performer, and the crowd is captivated the entire time. We started knocking ideas around, speaking to Louis about his inspirations and influences, which we then developed into a creative deck, which I sketched in Blender, and imported into WYSIWYG for visuals, to create stills and pre-visualise.”

Taylor spent 10 days programming the visuals at Colour Sound Experiment, a firm he shares a “longstanding” relationship with. “They are always a call away regardless of the day or time. Their team is easy to get along with and I like their whole ‘production sphere’ – sometimes it’s nice to split lighting and video, but for a show like this, aligning those departments with one line of communication is ideal,” he said, underlining the support of Colour Sound Experiment Account Handler, Haydn Cruickshank.

With production rehearsals under their belt and recordings from Louis Tomlinson World Tour (2020–22), where TANCK piloted Central Control software, the creatives understood how the singer and his band moved on stage, developing a rhythm and consistency of when to implement visual cues and which camera angle fit best. This allowed the team to pre-programme the visual content to timecode.

Video content was made by a combination of TANCK, Two Suns Creative, and Boxcat Studio, with the latter creating 3D models and rendered content, all of which was broadcast across a unique set of video surfaces. “Having the abstract video columns on stage makes it much more interesting than your standard slab of LED at the back of the stage,” Taylor noted.

On stage boxes created by Ox Event House housed GLP JDC Line 1000 strobes with reflective panelling and fabric that were printed to look like heavy concrete slabs, ladened with custom LED Creative solutions. These boxes then moved up and down using Wahlberg Motion Design winches to provide a “low-level, clubby feel” to the set.

“The winches can only carry 50kg and the lights alone are 35kg, so we had to be careful not to overload them, but the result was cool. We also have one single lightbulb on a winch which comes up and down above Louis to create a classic lighting moment,” Taylor said, further highlighting Ayrton Huracán’s prismatic colour wheel as a ‘fan favourite’.

The lighting design saw a wall of GLP impression X4 Bar 20s at the rear of the stage in 12 columns. Further lighting trusses over the stage carried the Wahlberg winches for several automated looks. The DMX winches were utilised for three or four songs, either statically or moving up and down, while JDC Line 1000s provided colour and strobe effects, to achieve varied looks, with a relatively minimal overhead lighting package.

Taylor elaborated: “There are some shutters for one specific track which go directly in-front of some of the GLP X4 Bars to get the aura of the lights, instead of the lenses, which I really like the look of. Lighting and video complement each other during this show – there’s also a section with flickering fluorescent tubes on the video content with the X4 Bar 20s behind the LED screens flickering in a similar way.

Taylor was delighted with the performance of the crew. “Overall, it has been a great run, executed flawlessly,” he commented, citing the support of Lighting Crew Chief, James Box; Dimmer Technician, Rick Carr, and Lighting Technicians, Amy Barnett, and Kieran Hancox.

The wider lighting rig comprised Ayrton Eurus, CHAUVET Professional Strike Array 4, Claypaky Mini-B eLumen8 Endura 1Q120, and Robe BMFL fixtures with robo cameras, all fixed on various HOF MLT3, Litec QH40 and Thomas James Thomas Engineering Superstruss. The lighting riser featured Ayrton Huracan LT and GLP JDC1 fixtures.

Robe Spiider fixtures were situated on the up and downstage video trusses, with the floor package boasting the deployment of further Ayrton Eurus, LEDJ Spectra Flood Q15 and Chroma-Q Color Force 72 units, the latter chosen for key light. Atmospherics came in the shape of Smoke Factory Tour Hazer 2, Martin Professional JEM ZR45 and MDG Atmosphere ATMe hazers with TMB ProFans. “We had some challenging shows, implementing an arena-scale design into sheds in the US, but it’s been good to return to Europe and witness the fans enjoying the show,” added Lighting Crew Chief, James Box, who pinpointed the use of the multicoloured glass gobo in Hurricanes as among his favourite looks.

“There is a lot of effort put in by TANCK to ensure we get the utmost from every fixture on the rig, which is great to see, when the team has gone to the effort of assembling the show each morning. Seeing the looks they achieve from the rig and the extra details, with each advanced cue within the show, is a pleasure.

Almost every pixel on the JDC Line 1000 and X4 impression Bars are being used.”

Video Crew Chief, Dave Mallandain, formerly of Colour Sound Experiment, supervised the video build and the team of Video Technicians, Ed Driver, Frank Wlliams and Tim Curwen.

“Working with Colour Sound Experiment again, in a freelance capacity, certainly has its benefits,” he stated. “You get to know the workflows and personalities of the company. There is an element of trust there and our relationship is stronger because of that.” The 2.5m by 2.5m video screen, made up of Leyard CLM6 LED panels with Colorlight Z6 processing on the back end, was built in an abstract configuration – hung from varying size steel structures fixed on to lighting truss, spanning the entire stage, as opposed to a traditional backwall. “This setup requires us to build it quicker, so the backline can start building their world, but it’s very lightweight and easy to use, so once the local crew are up to speed, it flies up in no time,” he reported.

During the show, there was a lot of camera angles fed into a Blackmagic ATEM switcher, with content then fed into Resolume media servers which was processed and treated with video effects and filters to manipulate the content, monitored by the video team, and pre-programmed by Taylor via an MA Lighting grandMA3 console, operating in MA2 mode.

“The fan camera, which was one of Tom’s ideas, has evolved to the point where Frank and I are on stage during Out Of My System, pointing these cameras fabricated in an old VHS-style shell at Louis’ face in reference to the fisheye-lens inspired music video.”

A mixture of Marshall Electronics and Panasonic PTZ cameras ensured the wider on-stage action was captured. “While the visual content is the same, the shots differ based on the energy of the crowd from night to night,” he explained. “We have an overhead shot for the drums, and another behind Louis, which shoots over his shoulder to the crowd. We also have a PTZ camera on the ground in front of Louis which can rotate to capture crowd scans along with a little ‘bullet camera’ for each musician. It’s been a fantastic tour; everyone on this team has been phenomenal.”

The special effects and pyrotechnics package supplied by BPM SFX included Galaxis PFC 10-way receivers running Galaxis, with a main and a backup controller, which ran through an MA Lighting grandMA2 console, to trigger MagicFX Stadium Shot IIs and a single shot of red streamers. The latter, a “signature of Louis Tomlinson live shows”, according to BPM SFX Technician, Jack Webber – who toured with a new custom control rack, with much of the hardware integrated in one rack.

BPM SFX Account Handler, Matt Heap and SFX Technicians, Blake Harward and Phillip Mathew also provided Webber with support. “The one major change on this tour was putting the Stadium Shot IIs at the downstage edge, and adding lasers for the O2 arena show,” said Webber, who has been involved in past touring campaigns with the camp. “This is the first touring camp to take me to the US, so I feel incredibly privileged.”

Safety was paramount for the BPM SFX team, who implemented the safeguard of warning notices on-stage to ensure the band knew exactly when an effect was triggered. In closing, Webber referenced the ‘rainbow-inspired’ track, She Is Beauty We Are World Class, which demonstrated the strength of the special effects package. “There are about 22 rapid fire chase Comets all going off at the same time with a big lift, which differs in comparison to the other looks with eight units.”

MIXING IN A SEA OF SCREAMS FOH Engineer, John Delf mixed on an Avid S6L 32D console with onboard plug-ins. “I use the onboard plug-ins as much as possible because I want to keep it as simple as possible and know I’ve got a show out of the box without any added extras, which is particularly useful during fly-in gigs, where I have to use a house console or have limited time to set up,” he noted. Delf also toured with some choice pieces of outboard gear including a Rupert Neve Designs 5045 primary source enhancer for vocals, an Empirical Labs Fatso two-channel compressor for drums, and further Distressors for the bass guitar group and vocals.

“The bulk of my mixing is riding the DCA control groups and the vocals, balancing between them, and when there is a lead guitar solo, I’ll jump to that. Most of the mix should stay where it is, and I shouldn’t have to think about it, but every day you make major tweaks and refinements based on how the musicians are performing. Most of the gig is turning the band up and down without affecting the vocals because I have DCAs for drums, bass, guitars, keyboards, main vocal, backing vocals, and an ‘all’ DCA that includes everything but vocals,” he said, explaining his mixing wizardry modestly. “I also run snapshots in which I am changing the sub send amount for different songs, as well as reverb and delay times. If the band changes the set last minute, I have the desk synced to the timecode and that will trigger the snapshots.”

At the beginning of the set, the noise of the crowd can be between 112 to 116dB. “We have a little bit of headroom. When they are loud, I can push the mix, and when they are quieter, I can pull it back for the more introspective moments of the show,” he explained.

“My favourite section to mix is the transition from a cover of Arctic Monkeys’ 505 into Back to You. When that kicks in, I push the “All” DCA up to +10. We’ve built the set up to that point, where I’m able to throw it to the top before the end of the set. The three songs in the encore are also fun songs to mix,” he enthused, accenting the support of Solotech Account Handler, David Shepherd.

“I’ve worked with Dave for years, while he was at BCS Audio (now part of Solotech). He’s been my go-to account handler for a very long time, and Solotech has inherited this gig from them, so there was a natural transition.”

System Engineer and Head of Audio, Oli Crump walked TPi through the PA system: “We’ve been using L-Acoustics, which is our preference, since the start of last year’s tour. The main hang has been K1 with K2 downfill for both tours, however, we are touring with a much larger system this year with K2 on the sides instead of KARA-II. We’re flying subwoofers and carrying delays with us, which is also our preference in big arenas, like the O2 – it provides an even level of coverage across the audience,” the TPi Breakthrough Talent Award alumni said, explaining the thought process behind a larger sound system.

“The PA system is naturally bigger this year because we’re touring larger venues. The crowd is very loud, and we need to be able to compete with that at points of the show. The window of dynamic range we have without it being too loud is compressed because the background level from the crowd is so high, so we need to be able to get our level as consistent as possible from front to back. This setup really helps overcome that.”

Out of ear shot from Crump, Delf extolled the virtues of his partner at FOH: “Oli and I work well together. Every day, regardless of the venue, I know the system is going to sound consistent. We deal with different venue acoustics each day but as soon as I run up my virtual soundcheck, I’ve got the mix back to where I want it because the PA is at the same level every day. I used to walk the room a lot during sound check, but it always sounded consistent, so I’ve stopped doing that because I trust him explicitly.”

The PA generally sat in a standard location for an arena PA, 10.5m off centre and no wider than that, using the same basic system design as Louis Tomlinson’s past touring campaign, which Crump worked on with Kenny to ensure it didn’t impede the production design. “The number of boxes we deploy varies from show to show, based on the venue. The worst-case scenario [visually] is that the PA needs to be a little lower than usual and gets in the way of the IMAG screens slightly,” Crump detailed.

He designed the system using Soundvision, then imported his file into Network Manager, with a DirectOut Technologies PRODIGY.MP chosen for system processing. “I have visited many of the European arenas before so I’ve got fairly accurate plots, however, sometimes you will stumble across an error someone has made in building the models,” he continued. “Madrid’s WiZink Center had different CAD drawings for each layer of the venue and one of the layers was accidentally scaled wrong, so the bottom floors were fine but as you went up everything was out. You get curveballs like that occasionally but that’s why it’s important to verify drawings.”

An audience also changes the acoustics of a room, generally for the better, but sometimes not, so Crump was on hand at FOH to make tweaks when required. “As rooms get larger, they generally get more difficult, reverb time will go up purely as a factor of the room size, regardless of how you treat it. The O2 is quite tall seating-wise, so you end up having to angle the PA up into the roof a lot,” Crump noted.

Over by the stage, Monitor Engineer, Barrie Pitt mixed the five-piece band and frontman using a DiGiCo Quantum 338 console. “Louis and the band are good at verbalising what they want. They’ve been playing a long time, so it’s my job to translate those desires into the mix,” he explained. “DiGiCo has been my ‘go-to’ brand of console for the past 15 years. The 338 is an incredibly powerful console, which can do as much as any other on the market and more in a much less convoluted way. I know it like the back of my hand and how to get the best out of it and do the most complicated things at the push of a button. The Capture features are ridiculously powerful.”

Pitt oversaw 85 channels, 64 directly from stage, with additional channels for shouts, sends, returns, communications, and routing, among others. His outboard rack included a classic Lexicon PCM 91 digital reverberator for vocals. “The way I set up the communications and shout systems are the same across the board. For the layout, a lot of people have instruments on one side and vocal and effects on the other, however, I tend to adjust my banks of faders visually, how you would see it on stage, left to right, as a nod to my analogue mixing days. My second layer is usually tracks and any track content with reverbs next to the vocals, so they’re changed in unison. Sometimes, I’ll do a custom layer of [drum or spill group, two lead guitar channels and vocal] the things I use most, particularly if it’s a busy show input-wise.”

Pitt referred to the basis of his mix as ‘static’ with minor changes. “Louis changes a fair bit between songs I’m running upwards of 60 scenes with a lot of songs having multiple scenes for verse and chorus or specific sections,” he explained. The Monitor Engineer is a big believer in unifying the in-ear monitors, so what he hears is the same as those on stage. “We use Shure PSM1000s, JH Audio Roxanne in-ear monitors for Louis and JH16s for everyone else, except for the drummer, who is using Ultimate Ears IEMs. Louis and the band are solid, and they keep their ears in from start to finish. Louis wants the rock star mix; he likes to feel the weight of the mix. It’s not an overpowering mix but it’s a full mix with his vocal on top with Neve 5045 primary source enhancers on all vocals. Everyone else has a standard band mix at moderate level with their instrument and vocals high. The drummer has the most straightforward mix with his drums and shouts layered on top.”

A further pair of subwoofers stage left, and right were situated under the stage risers, providing the weight of side fills without the top end. “It’s a big rock show with drums and guitars, so the less noise I can have flying about the stage, the better,” he said.

The microphone package included a Shure Axient Digital AD4D two-channel digital wireless receiver, a AD2 vocal microphone with a KSM9 capsule for vocals. Sennheiser MKH 60 and AKG C414 XLS microphones captured the ambient noise of the room. “We track everything, including the two sets of ambient microphones for recording and virtual soundcheck, in case the band decides to do anything with the live content,” he noted.

Having collaborated with Solotech and previously BCS Audio multiple times, Pitt was pleased to see the company on the tour sheet. “They are a solid choice and I know Dave Shepherd well. They fix any problems swiftly, and all their gear is well packaged and maintained,” he said. “The band and crew are lovely. It’s rare to come across a camp so friendly on a show of this size.” Pitt thanked Solotech Monitor and Stage Technician, Matt Coton. “He is fantastic. He takes all the second guessing out of my day and is so meticulous and thorough that I know everything will be as it should be from the get-go. When there are issues, he knows exactly what to do to remedy it. He’s been a joy to work and hang out with.”

Audio Technicians, Matt Coton, Tim Miller, Kim Watson, Elliott Clarke, James Coghlan, Matt Benton; Bassist and Keyboard Technician, Chris Freeman; Guitar Technician, Dan Ely and Playback Technician, Scotty Anderson made up the sound team.

CURATING A HOME AWAY FROM HOME Sarah Nicholas of Sarah’s Kitchen and Caterers, Rebecca Henderson, Helena Robertson, Chris Carter, Matty Pople and Tamsin Manvell provided band and crew catering, ensuring morale stayed high and stomachs were full on the road. Making a name for themselves as One Direction’s caterers, the outfit now cater for each of the band members’ individual tours and private functions, amassing a dedicated online following. “I started catering for Louis and the rest of One Direction during their first theatre gig in Watford and I feel very privileged to have that connection. At dinner time, we perform a plate service, which I think is important – our reputation is not only built on really good food but the entire hospitality package, creating a nourishing environment away from home,” Nicholas said.

Sarah’s Kitchen provided a range of vegan, gluten-free and vegetarian options. “We also provide disposable products and water coolers, and our runner regularly collects fresh, local produce from markets based on where we are in the world,” she explained.

The wider European crew featured Security, Kristian ‘Ches’, Ross Foster, Ben Major, and Gav Kerr; Merchandisers, Jon Ellis and Maddy Stephens; Bus Drivers, Aivaras Arminas, Frederico Antunes, Scott Pickering, Chris Grover; Entourage Bus Driver, Paul Roberts; Merchandise Truck Driver, Warren Dowey; BTS UK Account Handler, Garry Lewis; Stardes Account Handlers, Tyrone Reynolds, and Alam Minshall; CSE Crosscom Account Handler, Hannah Evans and Altour Travel Account Handler, Alexandra Gati.

Having wrapped up the best-selling livestream of 2020 – a lofty achievement given the proliferation of remote productions amid the grounding of live events with in-person crowds – Tomlinson shows no signs of slowing down post-pandemic, making the leap from sold-out theatres to arenas across the globe with his trusty crew in tow. “Live From London was great because the crew and I really needed it,” Delf said. “It gave us some much-needed work amid the lockdown, and all the proceeds went directly to the crew, which was an incredibly honourable thing to do. To come back out on the other side of lockdown was great. It was a dark time back then for everyone, but to be back out on tour surrounded by friends, who feel more like family, it’s special.”

-> read here on Issuu

#louis #fitf tour #fitfwt #lt crew #tpi magazine #05.01.24 #article #touring #thank youu omglarryrabbit ;)#love getting to peek behind the scenes this is great

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cilil · 1 month

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Eönwë Week - Day 7: Freeform - Etymology

AN: So I promised to compile this a while ago and finally got to it. Enjoy!

Today's topic: A possible etymology and Valarin version for Eönwë (idea dump)

𓅛 The meaning of the name "Eönwë" is unfortunately unknown. The only thing we know for certain is the suffix "-wë", as it also occurs in many other names, which means simply person, being or individual. Fun fact: While it's generally masculine, it's not exclusively so, the main example being Elenwë.

𓅛 Before receiving the name Eönwë, he was known as Fionwë. For Fionwë we do have a meaning: "Fion" is glossed as hawk and/or haste, which I'm sure has many of you thinking "oh yeah that fits" right now and I agree.

𓅛 So we find ourselves in a bit of a weird spot where we have an old name that fits and gives us an idea what it could have been about and a new name without a clear meaning. I have a few ideas how to solve this, but please keep in mind that I'm not trying to do completely accurate and squeaky clean linguistics here, I'll be sticking to ideas and headcanons while trying to do my best to find something that makes at least a bit of sense. Alright? Alright.

𓅛 According to War of the Jewels, Eönwë's name was apparently adapted from Valarin (which, given how close the known Valarin names are to their Quenyan counterparts and how Quenya even borrows some names from Valarin, is not surprising). Therefore, my first idea was that perhaps the meaning of Fionwë ("hawk-person", "haste-person") still applies, but whatever the Valarin word it comes from is just slightly different (has an e instead of an i). Someone would then have to come up the Valarin word in question (and it won't be me, at least for now >:D).

𓅛 My second idea was that "fion" and "-wë" are just two elements of the name, with an additional third element conveyed in the "e". There are various things you could "shove" in there, but one idea I'm currently liking is that it's tied to "ea" (existing, being) or "ëala" (being, spirit (non-incarnate), the general term for Ainurin souls). This would correspond with my headcanon that Eönwë was the first Maia to be born/created and the meaning would be "haste/hawk spirit being" (loosely translating).

𓅛 Another alternative I found during my research is "ëa"/"ëaren" (eagle) which could also be cool, though I suppose in that case it'd be better to read "fion" as haste rather than hawk because having two bird species in one name would be a bit weird. The meaning would then be "hasty eagle person" (again, translating somewhat loosely).

𓅛 Funnily enough, I found coming up with an idea what Eönwë's Valarin name could be easier than putting all of the above together. Since we know so little about Valarin, this will once again be guesswork and ideas.

𓅛 Conveniently, we have half of his name thanks to Manwë -> Mānawenūz, if we take it that "-wenūz" is the general Valarin version of "-wë" (and not an isolated instance of this particular name being that way).

𓅛 If we then see how "man-" simply becomes "mana-" and observe the trend of Valarin words having additional syllables with vowels compared to their Quenyan counterparts, such as:

ayanūz -> Ainu iniðil -> indil (lily)

An easy solution would then be Eōnowenūz.

(I have admittedly not yet dared to take all the words above that I suggested could be part of his etymology, attempt to translate them all into Valarin and see if everything would still fit (more or less), but if I'm really bored one day I might.)

So yeah, these are just some ideas and stuff I dug up, please don't take it as absolute fact or gospel and I hope it was interesting or at least entertaining to see me flail around trying to make sense of that poor man's name. Feel free to let this inspire you and make use of my findings, just be a dear and give me a cute little shout out if you do :)

taglist: @asianbutnotjapanese @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @blauerregen @bluezenzennie @edensrose

@elanna-elrondiel @i-did-not-mean-to @just-little-human @singleteapot

@stormchaser819 @urwendii @wandererindreams @eonweweek

#eonweweek #eonwe #eönwë #headcanons #meta #etymology #ideas #maiar #ainur #valarin my beloathed

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transcriptioncity · 3 months

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The Importance of Chinese Transcription Services - A Gateway to Accessibility and Global Connection

Chinese transcription services play a crucial role in modern communication. These services bridge communication gaps and foster international connections. By converting spoken Mandarin or Cantonese into written text, they make information accessible to a wider audience. Transcription services facilitate understanding between diverse linguistic communities. In business, this means smoother…

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tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors · 5 months

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I feel like this is baby laoft!Roman coded

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C5oD2YkrH6i/?igsh=NXR1Y25uZ3VhN3p2

absolutely accurate. me and the besties were talking a couple weeks ago about Roman's homeschooling making him just staggeringly bizarre.

he talks about greek philosophers like they have personal beef. he thinks 'calculus' is probably some kind of ancient greek star charting device.

he's on shakespeare forums having an apoplectic fit because someone translated Marc Antony's speech in Julius Caesar into Latin prosody but they did it in iambic tetrameter catalectic like some kind of PHILISTINE and he is also on shakespeare ao3 making impassioned arguments about why benvolio and mercutio should kiss

he can recite hamlet from memory but has to sing hamilton songs to remember the founding fathers. he knows what household cleaning solutions to use to make different colors of fire but he thinks they do it because cleaning supplies are ritual purfication tools you use to cleanse your house of evil spirits like The Cold

#ask #just-my-interpretation #love and other fairytales ask #laoft roman

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vitaminctablet · 2 months

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i think willy wonka and jay gatsby share so many similarities - elusive billionaires who seem almost inhuman especially with the constant mystery surrounding their characters.

for example the constant allusions to magic and intangibility when (our very unreliable narrator) nick percieves gatsby - we have only ever known of gatsby though nick. hes so surreal - a dream.

wonka very clearly not being of this world. extensive knowledge of vermicious knids? a spacecraft that is miles ahead of nasa? who is this guy really?

also their distinct personalities that make them so hard to cast. gatsby is desperately insecure. he constantly tries to ingratiate himself with those around him. mr "picking his words with care". leonardo dicaprio didnt work because his immediate stage presence undermined all of this.

wonka is so multifaceted and i dont think he has ever really been translated onto film 100% accurately before. forget the book description, try casting someone that can emulate his personality.

solution? animate both👍👍

#whag the fuck am i even yapping about #i cant stop thinking about their similarities though #theyre both tumblr sexymen or at least fill the criteria ngl #willy wonka #book willy wonka #charlie and the chocolate factory #the great gatsby #jay gatsby

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archiveikemen · 1 year

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'His Cherished Doll' Story Event: Prologue

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

❥･• Warnings and FAQ

Roger: Come, Little Lady. Drink this drug for me, will you?

A few days ago, Roger had me become part of his experiment for a new drug, in return for the medical treatment I received from him.

Roger: You’re a lifesaver. You’re the only person in this castle who doesn’t have a curse.

Roger: I was having problems because I couldn't accurately determine its effects.

Kate: Um… I definitely won't die from drinking this, right?

Roger: It’s just a drug that increases the efficiency of wound healing. Look, it’s all written down in this document.

(It’s for research purposes, so it’ll be fine… right?)

I drank the clear liquid from one of the test tubes on the table in one gulp.

Roger: It says here that it's not a dangerous drug… huh? What did you just drink?

Kate: The clear drug you told me to drink…

Roger: N-Not this one. I said to drink the blue one…!

Kate: … W-Wha—

A sudden change happened.

(... ugh…)

My head was spinning and the ground felt like it was shaking, and before I knew it—

I became as tiny as a doll.

…

Victor: This is a disaster! Ever since Crown was founded, this is the most terrible thing that has ever happened!

Ellis: … Victor, your words and facial expression don't match.

Elbert: … It can’t be helped. Tiny Kate is… cute.

I explained the situation and received some doll clothes from Victor that he had for some unknown reason, and I was eventually surrounded by all the members of Crown.

(... This is terrible.)

Jude: Hah, you deserve this for signing up for some experiment without thinking it through.

Alfons: I think Roger is partially responsible for leaving such a dangerous drug within reach, though?

Kate: … It’s not Roger’s fault. It was a mistake on my part to drink the wrong drug.

Harrison: This isn’t the time to be playing the blame game.

Liam: That’s right. Kate must be feeling so anxious, we have to find a solution as soon as possible…

William: Roger. What’s your plan to help Kate return to her original size?

(... Please let there be a way for me to go back to normal.)

Roger: I don’t have one at the moment. This was completely unplanned.

(W-What…)

Roger: Don’t look at me like that, little lady. I’ll find a way.

Kate: … Thank you, Roger. I’m counting on you.

Liam: Roger, I’ll help too.

Victor: In that case, everyone who has free time on their hands will help Roger…

Victor: And Kate shall choose who she wants to stay with in the meantime.

Kate: Huh?

Alfons: You’ll need someone to take care of you, won't you?

Elbert: … Someone might step on you in that state.

Victor: Who will be the one to dote on you— ahem, who will you choose to take care of you?

The person I chose to take care of me would be the same person who would protect me.

A wrong decision could lead to a terrible outcome, there was no knowing what would happen to me.

William: What’s your decision, Kate?

The tiny me was faced with a do-or-die decision.

— My future of being cherished remained uncertain.

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #otome #cybird otome #ikevil story event

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nogacheloveka-blog · 6 months

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The Bad Sanses somehow ended up in the Backrooms. №13

next 14

prev 12

Sometimes I use AI for background images. This time, the generation really pleased me, since it perfectly hit what I wanted :D

I get immense pleasure from the fact that my skill is gradually improving! I could never have imagined that I would be able to draw all these folds in clothing and shadows decently. I am especially proud of Dust and Horror 💫

Hah, under the first drawing with "The Bad Sanses somehow ended up in the Backrooms", I wrote that everything would be cute, but here we are: Dust is a lepidopterist, Nightmare can be killed by water, and Cross has fungal spores on his face. Half of the group has been changed by Backrooms in some way (evil laughter of the Creator).

I decided that my experiment with the story from different characters is unreasonable to continue: it is difficult, and the text becomes artificially too long and confusing. Plus, I find it hard to keep track of the English version of the text.

This is the translation of the another post from Russian to English. I understand English, but it is very difficult for me to write in English, so I asked chat GPT to help me. I have corrected some parts, but there still may be mistakes.

A human suddenly emerged from the nearest room. At first, he seemed not to notice the presence of strangers. They all stared at each other for a few seconds, until Killer waved his hand in greeting (the blade of the knife glinted brightly). The human hesitantly greeted them all in return.

The man's name was Enrico. He was afraid that the group of skeletons was his hallucination. He had been alone on this level for too long. Even with the support of psychologists, whom he was able to contact via the internet, loneliness was killing him. And tactile hunger: he couldn't let go of Cross's hand after the handshake, and the firm claws of Horror made him cry with happiness. Killer kept the conversation going, but didn't come close. Dust and Error kept their distance from Enrico. They were wary of people who wanted to touch them (Nightmare had enough of a cocktail of negative emotions).

Enrico told them everything he knew about the current level. He also offered his new acquaintances a smartphone as a gift. Among the production rooms on the level, there was one that produced electronics, so the gift was not valuable to Enrico. But now the guys didn't have to look for full-fledged computers (thank you, Enrico, you helped me a lot).

Error studied the code of the level. Even after seeing that strange map in the room where Enrico lived, he couldn't accurately say how the entrances and exits worked here. It seemed that the level was carried through the Backroom, seeping through the pores of other levels, capturing a resident if the old one died. Some kind of level-prison for one. But there was also a cosmos here. And that strange planet outside the window.

Dust watched the white dwarf in the viewport for a long time. It seemed unusual to him. Its appearance was more reminiscent of the surface of a plant lamp than the surface of a star. He thought that the solution to the problems could be there.

Nightmare instructed Cross and Horror to accompany Enrico and seize as many goods as possible for their use. The level produced valuable resources for trade, and simply leaving it would be extremely foolish. Especially since, for the faint hope of leaving this place, the man agreed to do anything (Nightmare enjoyed playing on his emotions).

Finally, they stepped out into open space. The magical skeletons coped well with the lack of air (well, they are made of magic, I can't do anything about that). They wrapped Error's threads around Enrico, who remained in a safe spot. The blue magic helped them move forward in turns. The closer they got to the star, the stronger the sense of wrongness grew.

Eventually, they spilled out onto another level (Error, who was loading, confirmed it). Enrico appeared nearby as well. The endless cosmos turned out to be quite limited, despite the infinite number of rooms inside the space station. The star was simply a round hole in space. The light that seeped through the crowns of the trees reflected off the mirror-like surface of the white marble pedestal. From a distance, it looked like a glowing white planet.

It seemed that they had found a way out of level 15. But not an entrance. The hole in space disappeared immediately after they exited it.

Enrico was so happy with the change of scenery that he fainted. The group left him there, taking the blue strings. They didn't need a new member. It was just a deal.

The new level resembled a forest and ruins. Mostly forest, with a smaller portion of ruins. There were so many plants that they grew on top of each other. Some trees had branches so large and old that a layer of fertile soil had formed on them.

As bad gays ventured further, they discovered animals: birds and snakes, a couple of spiders, traces of dogs or wolves. Killer even managed to catch a bright finch for entertainment. But the animal quickly bored him. Cross turned out to be much more interesting.

One of the provocations made Cross stumble. A colorful stream sprayed in his face. The way he squealed in surprise and the intense burning around his eyes amused Killer.

Cross needed help (otherwise he would become useless). Horror rinsed the affected area with Almond Water. The burning subsided, but the bright color remained. Killer found it amusing to compliment the Backroom on the stylish eye shadows. And since they now had smartphones, Cross could start a beauty blog. Or slowly turn into a zombie if it was a special type of cordyceps fungus. The situation seemed to amuse him.

Only Nightmare managed to silence Killer, binding the jester with tentacles and tossing him into the depths of the forest like a bag of trash (if Cross became useless, Nightmare would break Killer's tailbone).

But, it seemed that aside from the inappropriate bright color on the bones, the fungal spores posed no danger. At least that's what Dust said, who accidentally stained one of his butterflies in the liquid.

On this level, as far as they knew, there could be human outposts. This meant that the exits they had explored might be inaccessible to them if they couldn't resolve everything peacefully. Although after interacting with Enrico, their group didn't consider the people in this place too dangerous. The prisoner of level 15 was content that the skeleton group wasn't his hallucination. He paid no attention to anything else. It seemed they had overestimated the danger posed by humans. Perhaps it was worth trying to enter one of the residential areas?

But Error seemed to have spotted a suitable exit.

Nightmare belongs to Jokublog Killer belongs to RahafWabas Dust belongs to Ask-DustTale Horror belongs to Sour-Apple-Studios Error belongs to CrayonQueen Cross belongs to JakeiArtwork

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