#Accursed coordinates

[thetraumaking]

Accursed Crown

Child soldier program within the Fire Nation. Princess Ursa will be having the first grandchild of fire lord Azulon, and as a gift, he sends his son, prince Ozai, to find an appropriate bodyguard for the mother of the nation.

After prince Zuko was born, princess Ursa became pregnant once more.

When she gave birth to her second. Not only did she suffer from a burn from the newborn, she didn't feel the motherly love she felt for her firstborn to her second. She couldn't hold her or even look at her. But she's not a cruel woman, so she found a wet nurse and let the other woman raise her. Well, that was the plan until for a whole day straight the baby girl wouldn't and couldn't stop crying. Even Ozai heard it and came to yell at Ursa for failing as a mother.

When the child had finally shutten up, Ozai turned to see the young guard gently holding the baby.

From that day onward, you, who was nothing but a child soldier, became the guard, the nursemaid, and mentor for the new princess.

NOT for the faint of heart!!!

Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter 3: Her Touch

Chapter 2: Old Child

Princess Ursa is close to her due date. Her stomach and breasts have noticeably grown, her body preparing for the nurture of a child.

You stand beside her, from when she wakes up to when she goes to sleep. You are the first and last thing that her eyes have laid on for the past eight months.

She has grown an appreciation towards you, while no one’s there to support her, you’re always right beside her. Your eyes never leaving and your presence never fading. You have become her source of comfort.

Not even her supposed husband is present throughout her pregnancy. Other than the fleeting greeting they exchange, their interactions stayed minimal.

With your hands folded behind you, you stand on guard by a tree as your lady goes on her daily stroll. The royal garden was an arrangement on itself, countless numbers of plants and florals decorated the land. Each bush and patch neatly color coordinated, arranged into a certain pattern which one could only see from the tallest tower of the palace.

You feel someone staring at you, lifting your head just a bit, you catch the gold of the princess’s eyes. Your brows furrowed a bit before looking back down.

When you first caught her staring, you assumed that she was studying you, for the first couple of days that was what you thought. But as days went by, the time she would stare at you increased.

You see a flutter of red silk in the corner of your eyes. As she draws closer, you notice the pained expression on her face.

Before you could say anything, you see the bottom half of her robe dampening. Her legs give out but just as she was about to fall, you catch her.

Realization sets in, she was about to give birth.

You know you wouldn’t be able to carry her all the way back to her chambers, so once you guided her towards the tree to rest by, you planned to go fetch someone.

But just as you were about to run for help, you were held back by the princess. “Please… don’t leave me.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. The tears in her eye threatened to fall as she looked up at you with fear.

Taking a deep breath, you shoot a blast of fire into the air. With that, at least one of the royal guards would be able to come to your aid.

The grip on your hand was still present.

Kneeling beside her, you place your free, warm, hand on hers.

Just as you sat down, you were quick to be wrapped in a pair of arms. Her head rested between the junction between your neck and shoulder. Her breathing was ragged as you finally felt her tears fall on what little exposed skin that you had.

She held you tight as if you were a lifeline.

Unbeknownst to you, you were.

Ever since you came into her life, her loneliness subsided.

She could count on one hand the number of good or pleasant things her husband has given to her. And one of those very few things, were you.

Not once has she seen that man during her labor. Only after did he came in to see her child. And even then, she had to plead for him not to throw her newborn, the child she went through all that pain and suffering for, out of the palace.

But, since the moment her water broke, it was you who was there for her. It was you, poor little you, who stood in the shadow of the absent husband.

Your tiny hands, marred with scars and burns too much for even an adult, held hers. Young raspy voice giving her support and guidance without even knowing what exactly to do.

After what felt like an eternity of pain and agony, finally, release came.

And as a reward, it was you who held the newborn and handed him to his mother. For once in a long time, she felt true happiness. Finally, her own little family was created. 

Her, her son… and you. 

You were no fan of children, especially newborns. 

As you stared down at the new prince, who peacefully slept in your arms, you couldn’t help but think that the pink, wiggling, babbling creature looked like a maggot… with hair.  

It was hard to believe that you, along with everyone who you have ever met, was this small. 

Sighing, you look away from the baby to look for the princess. She handed you the prince, Zuko, and went to fetch something. As you were looking around for the lady, the child in your arm began to wail. Screaming and thrashing like the worm that he looked like. 

You clench your jaw. 

Your job is to guard the princess, not babysit. You were trained to kill, attack, defend, and plan. Not comfort a child or feed it. 

The baby managed to wiggle his hands out from his swaddle and with surprisingly good motor control, he tightly grasped onto the only thing that his tiny digits could reach, your hair, and pulled. 

You held your breath as you felt each individual strand of hair being pulled out of their follicles. 

The scene that welcomed princess Ursa back was almost comedic. 

You, who usually have a stoic, almost bored expression, was now red in the face, the veins on your forehead visible as you had your eyes tightly shut, still holding the baby boy who had both of his hands full of ripped out hair and still crying. 

Letting out a giggle, Ursa walked towards the two of you before you could suffer from any more damage. She walked behind you and released what she went out to retrieve, it was a golden hair ribbon. Cooing at her child, she combed through your hair with her fingers before tying your hair up. 

She didn’t move from her spot behind you, her hands now rested on your shoulders. Her thumbs rubbing circles on your back as she hums her tune. 

It was a comfortable, peaceful little moment, to her. 

You in response, straighten your back as her hands work longer in working out your shoulders. The massage was a nice gesture but the longer she kept in contact with you, the heavier your innards felt. 

You were now taking longer, deeper breaths through your mouth. Your lips began to dry out as you felt the tension now on your neck. 

You were unsure what was happening to your body. Were you coming down with something? Why has it suddenly become hard to breathe? Why are your eyes unfocused? Why do you feel nauseous? 

The baby’s sudden cries startled both you and Ursa. Snapping you out of your panic, you released the tight grip on the child’s arm. 

Ursa takes the young prince from your hands and begins to sooth him. Rocking him gently side to side, she walks around.  

You look at your hand, clenching it a couple times, testing it for… something. You couldn’t explain the rapid heart beat or the overly sweaty palms you now had. 

Covering your mouth with your hand, you try to forcefully regulate your breathing. The greedy breaths you were taking were now covered, forcing you to take small, controlled breaths through the small gaps between your fingers. 

You felt filthy, like you were covered in sweat after a long day of training. You could still feel where and how she touched you. The lingering, ghostly pressure running over your skin. 

Swallowing, you lowered your arm. Staring at the back of the princess as she tended to her child. 

You should not be thinking such things. It is a privilege to be in such close proximity to any of the royal family, even more so if they look at you favourably. You should cherish every moment you spend with her like a blessing from the heavens. 

You bit the inside of your cheek. 

Rather than feeling grateful for the privilege and luxury the royal family has provided you, here you are complaining and have the gall to feel disgusted. You should be happy the princess is paying even half as much attention and care to someone as lowly as you. You should be jumping for joy every time she reaches out to gift you her warmth. Every interaction you have is a good one. 

You swallow once more. 

It tasted bitter. 

[palestinian-fundraising]

Please read🇵🇸

Support Ghada's Medical Dream Amidst War on Gaza

Message from Organizer:

Hi, my name is Bahjat and I'm fundraising for Ghada HAMDAN.

This is she telling her story hoping of you guys to help her...

Ghada's bombed home in Gaza

Message from Ghada:

Hello friends..

I am Ghada Muhammad Hamdan, a medical student at Al-Azhar University in Gaza (third grade).

I am a strong, dreaming girl who wants to complete her studies and become a cardiovascular surgeon. I am a high achiever in university and high school and have never given up on what I want.

Because of this damned war on Gaza-Palestine, which has lasted for more than 190 days and still continues, I have lost my dream of completing my studies.

The university was destroyed, hospitals were destroyed, and teachers, comrades, and my loved relatives and friends were killed, but I still have hope to complete my dream.

My family and I were displaced from Khan Yunis (which is my hometown) for more than three months, after we were surrounded by occupation army forces with armored vehicles and tanks.

That day was like hell, my home has destroyed but thank god after all I survived, and all I hope for now is to complete my dream of studying, to become a doctor who serves my small country and the world.

Every small amount you donate brings me closer to escaping the holocaust of the accursed war and the loss of dreams.

The cost of exiting the Gaza Strip through coordination with the Rafah crossing is €8,000 per adult.

The total cost of my studies in Egypt is €22,000.

If it were not for the need, I would not have asked, but it is my dream in a world full of destruction.

My university school mates, more than half of them have been killed and passed on...

My university has been bombed.

[degloved]

Heyyyy!! I love your hoffstrahm fics, can't get enough of them, the way you do them specifically. Was wondering if you at all took writing requests/prompts? If so, I've been thinking SO hard about a Strahm-lives scenario in which he gets Hoffman out of the bathroom. Doesn't have to be huge!! Just wondered about your take on it. -👾

i won't lie this has made me more excited than i can say !!!!!!! what do you MEAN people want more of MY hoffstrahm. god that's crazy. anyway!! absolutely anon, wrote a little drabble here just for you. hope you like <3

‼️ for the record, there isn't a saw prompt in the world i won't do. btw. if you send in any. for the record ‼️

He'd driven past the house once, twice, three times now, in the past few days. It had to be joke. It'd be ridiculous to think otherwise.

Peter had thought it a joke at first.

A perfectly plain, unremarkable envelope—no return address—and within it, an equally plain, unremarkable piece of paper. Scratched into it in ballpoint pen, a set of coordinates.

The perfectly plain, unremarkable brownstone occupied a plain, unremarkable street corner. Its plainness and unremarkableness set Peter’s teeth on edge. He knew what kind of darkness, ugliness, lay behind those walls—so visceral, his skin crawled on approaching. It didn't sit right with him, not at all, that this shouldn't be reflected on the outside.

He wasn't sure what to expect upon entering.

A newly restored, freshly refurbished, entirely inoffensive interior wasn't it.

Meandering from one room to the next, he called to mind old crime scene photographs.

Here, Xavier Chavez tossed Amanda Young into a pit of needles. There, Laura Hunter fell victim to sarin gas permeating the air. Over yonder, Addison Corday slowly and painfully bled out.

No trace of them left behind. In their stead, an IKEA coffee table bearing a grossly fake plant—and more along those lines. Inexplicably, it angered him.

No matter.

He was drawn to the basement.

He wasn't going in blind, to tell the truth. They'd been hot on Hoffman’s trail for weeks—till the trail, suddenly and without explanation, ran cold. Call it a hunch, but Peter had been with the feds long enough to know when one ought to put two and two together.

The doors, although robust and seemingly heavy, weren't difficult to pull open. The accompanying screech was deafening. The stench might’ve made a lesser man empty his stomach.

A flashlight had been a good choice. Peter flicked it open, unleashed the military-grade light into the decrepit old room, watched it flood and seep into every nook and cranny. (For better or for worse—some things might’ve been better off remaining hidden from view; Peter wrinkled his nose at Gordon's foot.)

Hoffman sat there, a lifeless pile of limbs slouched against some piping. Peter couldn’t tell, not from that far off, whether he was even breathing.

He wasn’t sure which to hope for.

His boots click-clacked against the slightly sticky tile. Hoffman stirred.

His eyes, blue and tired and bloodshot, lingered on Peter. Alert but unseeing, cloudy and unfocused. How long has it been since Hoffman had been left down there?

A while, surely.

Peter could pinpoint the exact moment things snapped into place. Hoffman jerked like a kicked stray, a weak hand reaching out before again collapsing by his side. "Strahm?"

His voice was hoarse; beyond that, really. It crackled around each syllable forced up his raw throat. A haunting realization rattled through him: Hoffman must've screamed. He must have screamed for a long time.

"Yeah." Peter’s mouth was dry.

"Hey."

Peter wasn’t sure what had finally dragged his ass out here, to this accursed house and its rank basement bathroom. He'd have claimed revenge initially, or perhaps that deep-seated drive to see justice through. As it was, none of that seemed to matter much at all. Maybe he'd enact all those fantasies later, but...

For the moment, he found himself rather overcome with the singular desire to haul Hoffman to safety. (Certainly a strange sensation overall.)

Interestingly, instead of reaching for the bolt-cutters hanging off his belt, he reached for Hoffman’s dirty, grimy, cold face. Heaved a sigh upon feeling familiar skin beneath his fingers. (Godamn him to hell. Goddamn Hoffman, too.)

He sniffled—Christ, he sniffled.

"Been a while," he muttered into the pocket of air between them, running his thumbs over Hoffman’s cheeks.

Hoffman smiled an ugly, lovely smile.

Old habits and their hard deaths, and all that.

[eretzyisrael]

by Hugh Fitzgerald

We know that Hamas would not properly treat a single wounded Israel, whether soldier or civilian, who fell into its clutches. We already have heard about a half-dozen Israelis who were wounded and then taken hostage back to Gaza, only to be killed while in the terrorists’ custody. That’s not how the Israelis behave. They treat wounded terrorists, saving their lives, bringing them if need be to the most advanced medical facilities in Israel. There are dozens of these Hamas terrorists now recuperating in Israeli hospitals, where they receive the same care as Israelis. This story doesn’t get any attention in the international media because, of course, it doesn’t fit the narrative of colonial-settler-apartheid Israel, committing genocide on the helpless Palestinians. Here is the latest news about one such Hamas patient, alive today because of Israeli surgeons: “Hamas terrorist wounded in Gaza being treated in Israeli hospital — reports,” Times of Israel, December 13, 2023:

A Hamas terrorist wounded in fighting in the Gaza Strip is being treated in Sharon Hospital in Petah Tikva, Hebrew media reported Wednesday. The move is in apparent contravention of a Health Ministry decision, made in the immediate aftermath of Hamas’s October 7 onslaught, that captured terrorists would only be treated in IDF or prison service medical facilities. According to the reports, the man was seriously injured in fighting on Tuesday and due to the severity of his wounds, it was decided to transfer him to the central Israel medical center…. Sources familiar with the decision told Channel 12 and Kan that captured terrorists needing urgent medical treatment were being rotated through different Israeli hospitals. The official said the rotation agreement was done in coordination with the Health Ministry. Soroka hospital in Beersheba confirmed to Kan that it also has a Gaza terrorist being treated there. The comments appeared to indicate that Israel has shifted its stance from the initial decision not to treat captured terrorists in Israeli hospitals. In early October, then health minister Moshe Arbel sent a letter to Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu informing him that he had ordered all public hospitals and health services to redirect injured terrorists to IDF or prison service medical facilities. “Since the beginning of the war, the issue of treating the accursed Hamas terrorists in public hospitals has created great strain on the healthcare system,” Arbel wrote. He wrote that the health system needed to be focused on treating victims of the slaughter committed by the terrorists, injured soldiers, and on preparing for what is to come in the war. “The task of treating and providing security for the accursed terrorists in the public health care system just detracts from this,” Arbel wrote….

The original idea was that it made sense, given the security problem of guarding Hamas patients in treatment, to place them not in ordinary Israeli hospitals, but in IDF or prison service medical facilities, where there is already a heavy security presence. But in the end, because some of these patients needed a level of care that those facilities could not provide, it was decided to let the Hamas patients be treated in the same hospitals as Israelis, where they would of course receive the same high level of care as all the other patients. Dozens of wounded Hamas members have already received such care, in several cases life-saving, in Israeli hospitals. It’s a story that has not appeared on the BBC, CNN, NPR, or in the pages of The Guardian, The New York Times, and The Washington Post. After all, it shows Israel in a good light, and for many in the international media, that would never do.

Israeli doctors saving the lives of Hamas terrorists leads us to ask, yet again: Genocide? What genocide?

[divinityunleashed]

Location: Earth's Orbit.

BGM: Transformers Prime - Decepticons Theme

"STARSCREAM!"

"Y-Yes, Lord Megatron?"

"Why... is the Space Bridge activation process TAKING so long?!"

"Eheh... Those accursed Autobots, they must of dealt some serious damage to it before we had a chance to properly test it, my lord."

"Really...? Because as far as I am made aware, Starscream. is that there was no recorded assault on our Space Bridge as of yet, and all I am hearing out of your accursed vocal circuits... ARE EXCUSES!"

"Oh please, Lord Megatron! Please forgive my insolence!"

"All the time, all the damn time I have tried to tolerate your insolence. But now, it would seem that my patience has grown too thin to be ignored. Give me one good reason, as to why I shouldn't rip out your spark from your spark chamber, and grind it to a pulp!"

"Because you should really check your status on your fancy floating ring again, mr giant robot man!"

As soon as Adult Neptune appeared in the bridge of the Decepticon Warship, every single blaster, including that of Megatron and Starscream, pointed and armed towards the girl, in which she immediately yelped.

"How did this human get aboard my SHIP!?"

"You are in the presence of his highness, Lord Megatron! If you value your life, girl, you'll--"

"Human? Oh yeah that's a funny one. But seriously, you should really check that terminal. I left ya a gift."

Megatron huffed, before he pressed a button on one of the many intricate terminals aboard the Teletrann I, and the giant Space Bridge just opposite the warship began to open up and activate!

"What?! Impossible... A mere girl knows Cybertonian tech?!"

Megatron ignored Starscreams comments and walked over to Neptune, picking her up with his hand and lifting him closer to his face.

"Explain yourself."

"Well it's simply. I picked up some tricks from hanging out with my friends, and I learned how all your stuff works! So I fixed your giant ring thing and even put in a set of cool coordinates for you! I know, I know, I'm just that amazing aren't I?"

"You are certainly no mere ordinary human. You've given me enough reason not to want to squish you like a bug. Perhaps you may even be more tolerable than that of my supposed second-in-command over there."

"What?! Haven't I been... HUMILIATED, enough?! Surely you jest, Lord Megatron...!"

All that did was prompt Megatron to give Starscream a glare that made him shiver down his circuitry, which also prompted a giggle from Neptune before she climbed onto one of his shoulders.

"I set your location to a special place of mine, I think it would be great! My friends would love to meet you!"

Megatron then prompted the terminal to guide the warship through the Space Bridge, and arrive at Neptune's intended destination whilst Neptune briefed him on the location...

Which was...

Location: Gamindustri V2 - A considerable distance away from the main islands.

Soon as the ship appeared out of the Space Bridge, the view of Gamindustri V2 appeared in the windows of the Teletrann I Bridge. Megatron gazed upon it with a smirk on his face, as Neptune squealed.

"So this is Gamindustri. We shall conquer it."

"STARSCREAM! Be sure to make our new guest and ally... comfortable. And don't squish her under your legs. I would hate to learn what sorts of torture I would inflict upon you..."

"Y-Yes... Lord Megatron. As always, I am at your beck and call."

Neptune then jumped down and walked over to Starscream with a grin on her face.

"If you're anything like Arbore was, you're gonna be fun to hang out with."

"Tch. Cease your wits, Neptune. I answer only to Megatron, and myself. Not. You."

"Now you might as well come along before my master grows impatient. I know what he's like when he's grumpy."

[m-e-n-z-e-p-t-h]

[{]¤| Hail Satan |¤[}] 'Ma-Ah-Rom' Mah_ram I, Shivah (Salah). . Ankh "UnK" [Sybaritic] Agnostic 'THEIST I I THEISTIC' Luciferian I. . .

TRANSCENDENCE "SPACE" Universe's: Trans-dimensional 'Dimension' (Realms) "Cosmic" Prism/Entities. . . Multi-universes 'Solar-core' coordinates are inclusive to intergalactic solar systems as contained, thereof visual barriers pertaining to the 'Cosmos' by light-coordinates. Thus being encapsulated Galaxy's unto spacial-regions, therefore an outer-space realm. Concluding inter-cosmic descension of preexisting and existing life-forms, both dwelling onto planetary space-dimension (Prisms). Thence other-than the fading lit-void of sound parallel to death for all beings that exist in regards to planetary rotation, thus respiration (The-Sun).

THE ASCENDED: Gold, The Abyss. . Die old. "Gems/Crystals" Eternal Damnation (Burning-souls) Accursed Transition. . . Luminous-containment/Flux-existence [Entity].

(Comets) Asteroid; Nebula.

♾NUBIAN CREED: SATANIST: THE DARK GOD OF VOODOO. . . .

[noobsomeexagerjunk]

As promised @hopalongfairywren @routeriver @helpicant-stop

A probably forever unfinished excerpt to something I was supposed to call Nip the Bud. Feel free to dm me for more context on how that was supposed to turn out.

Canon divergent but barely/mostly canon compliant, headcanons galore, no ships, c!Hannah-centric

Working against nature rather than with it, playing into strength and pride rather than wit and principle, the fairy despised the men of the Dream SMP, and she loathed the men who embodied it well, especially those desperately trying to do so. Hannah suspected that they believed the illusion of belonging possessed by the culture of the serverland was going to fill the gaping hole in their souls. What bullshit!

Realizing that the aromatic water treatment she had been taught as a child wasn’t working, her mind began to wonder as to where else she could seek better medical assistance. One would think that some rose water would aid a rose fairy, but alas.

As she went to stroll about for her daily check of the server’s flower behavior, a regrown, tall plant caught her attention.

It seemed that Ponk’s lemon trees had grown back after several fires in the past few months. The one she was looking at had begun to flower (hence why it got her attention) though had yet to produce fruit.

Ponk was a human, dubiously a man, but yet seemed to both to qualify and stand out in the sea of disappointing folks Hannah encountered in the server. It probably had to do with his whole lemon tree thing.

As she went closer to further observe the tree, whispers and mewing began to cry out in Hannah’s mind, making her stop in her tracks.

The sensation was familiar, and that terrified her, reminding the poor fairy of her actions and her pains the last time an accursed set of plants began speaking to her in distinct voices. Though, she had to admit, the cat meowing was certainly new. It should not sound bothersome, but it was.

Hannah swallowed and rushed forward anyway, because it was her job to make sure the growths of this tree weren’t dangerous. The Egg has broken many habits, but this part of her nature it can never shatter.

Inhale, exhale.

“Your flowers smell nice,” Hannah whispered to the tree, using her magic to make one of its branches stretch out to her hand. The noises in her brain then began to become a bit more coherent, clarity in every carress of the magical lemon tree.

Chatter—the kind she heard from many allied chats that roamed the server—was what she was hearing, and this calmed her down somewhat. Ponk’s Chat must have been spirits tied to his trees, and how he valued these trees so much suddenly made a lot more sense.

This was an odd chat for someone who seemed as normal as Ponk was to possess. A spirit chat would be attributable to someone like the infamous Technoblade, or the reanimated Wilbur Soot, but these sweet voices belonged to Ponk, who shared the same wistful chaos and scattered wisdom he did.

Hannah smiled at the banter of the lemon spirits, chuckling before giving the tree a kiss goodbye.

In response, the tree dropped a newspaper on her head. Hannah then picked up what seemed to be the issue of that month.

"CONNOREATSPANTS FOUND DEAD AT LNV CASINO,” "WANTED: SOUVENIR SHOPKEEPER," “AIMSBUCKS REOPENING IN HOLLOW VALLEY—” The headlines were as exciting as usual, but one of the ads caught the fairy’s attention, “PONK'S CITRUS REMEDIES.”

She took out her phone and quickly called the number on the ad, happy that the apparent doctor's chat was happy to send her to his care.

Ponk answered right away, and briefly too, responding to Hannah's description of her ailments with a demand for an immediate visit to a set of coordinates.

The coords the doctor sent Hannah led her to one of the coldest areas of the server, an area notably much colder than Snowchester.

She shivered in her woolen shawl—a "pity prize" from Punz, after winning a week's worth of their (mostly) daily duels—checking again if she read the coordinates wrong.

Nope. Definitely it.

Once Hannah could spot the house—no, houses, apparently, she began to run, slowing down at the realization of where she must probably be.

This was factored by the sight of the baby zombie piglin playing with the absurd amount of dogs within the confines of the houses’ gate.

She hadn’t seen MICHAEL in a very long time, but she knew how valuable the child was to his parents. While the thought of getting the kid out of the equation would get some assholes from Kinoko off her back, it wasn't right to do it when the child was so loved to begin with.

There is a time for cruelty, and that wasn't it.

The piglin saw her and immediately waved in greeting. Hannah waved back and went towards the gate.

“Hello MICHAEL,” She greeted the child, “Is Ponk here?”

He nodded, snorting chipperly, and pointed to one of the houses. This one was marked by a mural of sorts.

That was Philza’s house. All Hannah knew about Philza was that Death followed him, that he was very old, that he was an angel, and that he was dangerous if provoked, treating blood as decoration rather than stains on his person.

MICHAEL broke Hannah’s train of thought by opening the gate for her, leading her by hand to the door of the angel’s house.

She thanked the child, conjuring a small rose bloom and placing it on his head. Once the child left, she knocked.

“Wait, stay seated, I can get it,”

“Are you sure, mate?”

“I need you to keep still for a few more minutes. Stretch your wings out a bit more.”

“Gotcha.”

Hannah had been greeted by Ponk, who opened the door to receive her.

“Sorry if I asked you to come here, Hannah,” He said as she walked in, “You and Phil have similar problems, so I thought it would be easier if I did your wings here as well.”

“It’s no problem,” She told him, understanding.

“Oh, and er,” Ponk turned to Phil, who was seated in one of the chairs in the house, sat next to a table full of medicines, bowls, potions, and gauzes, “Phil! Have you met Miss Hannahrose yet?”

Hannah turned to the angel, who nodded at her.

“Not properly,” Phil adjusted his position to let Ponk continue his work, “Welcome to my house, Hannah. If you need anything while waiting, feel free to go down to the basement. The bathroom and the kitchen are there.”

“Of course,” Hannah kept up a cordial smile, nearing the doctor and his patient to observe.

This was the first time Hannah saw Philza up close, and she was haunted by the sight of his wings. Phil’s wings were bird-like, and seeing the wear and tear of his wings was gruesome to look at. Many of the bones were charred and disjointed from awkward self-healing remedies, and much of the surrounding flesh was still red and exposed, standing out despite the fluff of his feathers, as well as the passage of time.

Ponk was rubbing the exposed bones like it was dull porcelain, dipping a cloth repeatedly into a solution Hannah couldn’t make heads or tails about.

“Are you cleaning his wounds, Ponk?”

“Oh no, this solution is to keep the exposed bone from going brittle,” Ponk replied, concentrated in his work.

“When I realized the flesh wouldn’t grow back, I called in,” Phil said, “which kinda sucks. My wings used to heal themselves before I came here.”

“Same!” Hannah voiced out, taking the nearest chair in the area, “Did they ever feel stiff during your first days here?”

“Oh my God,” Phil remarked with a relief he clearly hadn’t felt in a while, “I was wondering why these things got all fucked up when I got in spawn. Even before, well, before my wings got a lot more fucked up, I suddenly couldn’t fly anymore.”

“Jesus, and I thought it was the Egg that hindered my flight,” Hannah couldn’t fly during her first days too, wings stiffened like they were glass sculptures, “For a time, I did get them working again.”

“Ah right, you won that Clean Up Event!” Ponk interjected.

“Yeah, the Elytrian assist gift really put the magic back in my wings,” Hannah reminisced on her short period of blissful flight, “well, for a while anyway.”

Phil took a good look at Hannah’s broken wings, wincing quietly knowing just how much more fragile bug wings were.

“Is it too rude to ask?”

She sighed, “I was relocating for a new home, and I wanted to get rid of my old one. Boomer got a little too excited and blew up my house before I was fully outside.”

“Holy shit,” Phil was shocked, “Did you die?”

“Almost,” Hannah pointed at her wings, “these saved my life. I probably would have if I had lost the Clean Up Event.”

“I’m sorry,” Phil gave her his pity, “Explosives can be a bitch to handle sometimes. I would know.”

“Oh yeah,” Ponk was finished with the exposed bone, “Just like when you helped blow up L’Manburg!”

“As it should,” Phil spat back, asserting an authority to remind Ponk just whose house everyone was in.

Ponk showed no fear, unmoved while preparing another medicine, “I'm just stating the facts, Philip. Just stating the facts...”

Hannah watched closely Ponk mix together in a bowl a Potion of Healing, carbonated Ghast tears, and another substance Hannah couldn’t identify. The mixture had smelled heavily of citrus once it was being combined.

“Is that a homemade solution, Ponk?” Hannah asked.

“Yep! A healing paste enhanced with lemon oil and pectin,” Ponk took a bit of the mixture in his hand, “fresh from my trees, so you know it’s legit.”

“Of course, your trees,”

"I hope Chat was polite."

"Uh, of course! O-Of course, they were delightful."

Hannah then watched Ponk place the medicine on the exposed flesh of Phil’s wings. Phil pursed his lips as the procedure was being done, an indicator that the medicine stung a little.

“How bad does it hurt?” She asked Phil.

“Like your usual acid solution,” Phil inhaled, “But, er, you know—fuck! F-For your wings.”

Hannah sucked in through gritted teeth, imagining very well the possible sensation.

"How much longer until it's my turn, Ponk?"

"Give me an hour. Your wings might also take a bit longer than Phil's,"

"Oh? How so?"

"Well, scaly bug wings are far more del-delegate—delicate, sorry, than the feathery wings of a bird."

"Ah, of course."

The doctor, after applying the medicinal paste, prepared the banadages. They were clearly imported from other servers, the material unfamiliar. Ponk brushed disinfectant on the inner portion before wrapping them strategically on Phil's wings. He did his work with such precision that seemed like he had done the work forever.

The procedure indeed finished within the hour, leaving Phil to do some stretching before going down to prepare food for the guests.

Hannah caught him as she was being sat down by Ponk.

"How long have you been receiving the treatment, Phil?" She asked.

"Around May last year," Phil hummed out.

"Wow," That was a long time, "And there's been no changes?"

"Nothing's gotten worse," Ponk replied for him as he readied another set of medicines and instruments, "but nothing's getting better. Phil's wings have remained in that state of damage for more than a year now."

"And it is strange, y'know, how that is," Phil continued with an irritated concern, "I've spoken to my, er, to an important person I know, and as far as she knows, something's just fuckin' weird with the essence of the server, and it's preventing my wings from healing properly."

"You mean your wife, Philip?" Ponk was walking towards Hannah again, "Because i agree with her."

"I mean, of course. She's always right, after all."

Ponk and Hannah giggled at that remark.

"Of the many weird things in this server, there's been a noticeable trend of wound and injury stagnation," Ponk responded, "And it's growing more common. I have to resort to more… mysterious measures to get better working medicine."

"You mean the magic from your lemon trees?" Hannah asked, still intrigued by them.

"Yes, and it's a higher magic, our dear little fairy," He then gestured for Hannah to gently flap and stretch out her wings, "we all have our gods, our beloved higher powers that keep us afloat."

Hannah caught Ponk giving Phil a knowing look.

"I'm… going to make tarts and tea," the Angel descended downstairs, "I'll be back."

Hannah began to feel Ponk slowly pull on the edges of her ripped wings, the scratch and stretch weird and tingly.

"Does this hurt?"

"No, just don't pull too hard, Ponk."

"Of course."

What Ponk apparently did was dab and cut away the charred edges of Hannah's wings. This was the most painful part, as well as the longest. Once that was over, Ponk was speedy with the succeeding procedures.

"Are you feeling alright, Hannah?"

"It still stings, but it's not as bad as I thought it would be."

"Good, good," She watched him place the clipped wing scales in a bag, tying it closed with a pink string from one of Phil's chests, "you'll have to come back to me regularly for these next ones."

"Like you do with Phil?"

"Pretty much," Ponk then began to ready his medicinal mixtures.

"H-How many times do I—"

"Once a week. That would do."

"Is that how many times you come over to Phil's?"

"At first," Ponk went behind Hannah, applying the mixture gently on her wings, "but after some affairs on both our ends, I would see him once a month. We might make it like that once your body's used to the lemons."

[freakystrashdump]

🔮The Oracle Bakery🔮

Emperor Belos|Phillip Wittebane/OC

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, Belos is a content warning by himself

Read on AO3

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Chapter 6: The most excellent bread, Ginetoes

"Good morning boss- oh dude, did get any sleep at all last night?"

Katya was greeted by the grim, almost ghost-like apparition of her boss, head pressed against the counter while the rest of her body barely held itself up, knees bent and arms hanging loosely at her side.

The apparition that resembled her boss let out a groan, barely registering as witchspeak, her limbs moving on their own accord like those of a newly born foal. Somehow, despite the lack of coordination, her hands managed to find the marble top of the counter, palms pressing firmly into it and with great effort, finally lifting her body up. The bard couldn't help her mouth stretching into a grimace when her boss looked at her. That was a face of someone who has stared death in the face and said "fuck you". It was worse, she thought, than the morning after the failed petrification ceremony.

“I got enough .” Selena gasped out, just legible enough.

"Are you sure?" Katya pressed further, "Because you definitely don't look it."

Selena clumsily pressed her fingers under her glasses and tried to massage the ache in her eye sockets away through her eyelids. No, no she didn't get enough. Like an absolute buffoon, she decided to go out to perform some good ol' vigilantism, and because the adrenaline rush was still going strong after she came back home, she thought she was capable of doing a test bake of what Belos had asked of her. One attempt turned into two into three until Selena was trudging like a zombie through the kitchen at 6 am.

"Eh." Was the only reply given, followed by a 'thunk' as her forehead once more landed on the cool countertop.

~*~*~*~

It was a good thing that the entire bakery was close to being fully automated, thanks to Isabella and Waine enchanting it to the full extent, way before they locked their magic behind their respective sigils. All it needed was someone to maintain it and the kitchen would handle the rest: knead, bake, cook, clean, supply, you name it, there was an enchantment placed for it, lovingly engraved with runes, sigils and glyphs that Selena didn't even know how to decipher anymore. But, even if it could do that, most of the time the witches running it had no need for it. All three of the Fortunas who were the owners at one point or another enjoyed the process of baking, and would hire other witches to help for the enjoyment the company brings.

It was days like these that the magic ingrained into the bakery was more than welcome, Katya thought as she watched her boss trudge along as a giant slug. She was certain that she was going to be the half-dead one today, as the BATs meeting lasted longer than she thought. But apart from the occasional yawn that escaped her, she felt fine.

Ah, the wonders of youth. When pulling an all-nighter was naught but a minor inconvenience.

Making another cup of coffee, she set it on the counter, and like a mindless beast that has gotten a whiff of blood, Selena dropped the broom she was leaning on and dragged her feet to the magic elixir. She took it in her hands and her lips stretched unnaturally over her teeth into a smile, eyes wide and bloodshot, muttering a single 'thank you' before walking away.

"Yeesh." Katya exclaimed. This was the third cup already.

It was only by noon that Selena was finally starting to resemble a living witch again.

A very grumpy living witch.

"Ma'am if you already ate the scream-cakes, then I do not care if you didn't like the flavour, you aren't getting any replacements or refunds!" Selena went silent while listening to the person speaking on the other line "Well why didn't you return them when you realized you didn't like franken-fruits? You ate a whole pack of accursed scream-cakes, you don't think you could have stopped after one?!"

More silence. Katya tried her best to serve the customer at the till while Selena dealt with the complaint by raven.

"Ma'am. I don't care. No, I do not. Frankly, I think my mom would have personally told you to go jump off the Knee." Selena hissed, voice slowly rising in volume "Actually, you know what?! If you come into my shop and try to get a refund or replacement for scream-cakes that no longer exist, I am personally going to curse you and tell you the exact date of your death! Have a horrible day, ma'am!"

The Oracle hung up and resisted the urge to slam the poor raven away, instead placing him a bit roughly on the nearest table "You get out of my sight before I curse you too!" She warned, and the raven let out a scared caw before hopping away to somewhere safer. "Katya!" She snapped her fingers "Hit me up, I need more coffee."

"Maybe you should ease up on those. You don't look too hot."

"Nonsense!" She waved her hand away "I feel just fine!"

"Your hands are shaking, boss."

"That's the energy, that means it's working ." The grin was stretched too thin on her face, resembling a grimace more than anything. It was tempting to cut her off cold-turkey, but Katya was a little bit more afraid than she was mischievous at the moment. So she just handed over a fresh cup o' Joe, watching in horror as Selena's body gave a violent tremor and face cringed after just one sip, probably suffering from caffeine overdose 

"That's it, I'm cutting you off!" Katya finally had the courage to object. Selena gawked as the cup floated away from her grasp, jumping desperately to grab it. "It's time you got some sleep, boss, you aren't getting any more coffee until you do."

"Katya! Katya you can't do this to me!" Selena was fast to switch between desperation and anger "Katya, I am your boss!"

"And I am leading a mutiny!" The bard took out her tambourine, making Selena gasp.

"You wouldn't dare!"

Katya smirked "Watch me, punk."

It was a power struggle filled with sounds of ghosts moaning and tambourine rattling, but in the end Selena was out cold on one of the couches, courtesy of Katya's well cast sleeping spell. The caffeine was still working through her body, as even as she slept, Selena's body would twitch every couple of seconds.

"Alright folks, sorry for the delay, I'm free to take your orders again!" The bard announced to the small crowd that formed outside the doors.

"Good night, boss."

~*~*~*~

Okay so Katya was right to cut her off. Doesn't mean she was gonna be any less grumpy about it. 

The spell was a particularly strong one in order to knock her out despite all the caffeine she consumed. She only woke up when Katya gently shook her awake, telling her it was close to closing time, and she should move upstairs to continue sleeping if she'd like. Which she wasn't going to do, she wasted enough time with the unplanned (forced) nap. She had a recipe to perfect! 

(Not that she wanted to impress Emperor Belos or anything, of course not)

Her hands still would shake occasionally as she kneaded the dough. The side effect of the caffeine overdose, unfortunately, despite the sleep and time passed, was still very much so active. 

It was a simple recipe, but she wanted it perfect. Goop lemon and ginger and marjoram and basil, a simple spell to dehydrate them and grind into dust together, to be mixed with the flour and the baking powder. Of course, she sifted all the dry ingredients once she had them ready. Then the wet ingredients; water and, as the recipe required, a splash of warm wine, griffon egg yolk, melted butter and sweet cream. Some adjustments in measurements, a bit more kneading for the right consistency to form, and she was ready to wrap it up and place in the fridge. They needed to be rolled and shaped tomorrow, she didn't know what shape exactly, but she'd improvise. If it needed to be cooked in boiling water first and then baked, then she imagined a type of pretzel, perhaps? It would have to do.

She'll do all of that tomorrow. The guards, so far, would come in around half an hour after opening. There was enough time for her to do so, especially since she could just relegate the usual baking to the kitchen. Selena put everything away and decided to call it an early night. Which meant Midnight was taking the night off, she couldn't have a repeat of today in front of the Emperor tomorrow, she had to be at her best.

Not that she wanted to impress him or anything. Of course not .

It took a lot of twisting and turning (and a sufficiently charged sleeping potion) for Selena to finally fall asleep again. She didn't oversleep by much, maybe around 20 minutes, but she was up and at 'em after downing one fast coffee she asked the kitchen to make for her whilst she worked. The dough was rolled out and shaped (she experimented with that, from the classic pretzel to more ornate braids), then cooked in boiling water until they floated to the top. Taking them out, she put them on a rack where she coated them with sugar and finally put them in an oven, just enough for a crust to form. She tasted these the night before, in an exhaustion filled delirium. A very…unique taste, not one she'd call bad, but she never really made sweet pastries with so much basil and marjoram. One you'd have to get accustomed to, for sure.

How old was the Emperor, again? If gran met him in her youth after he already came to power, he must be old. That may explain why he was fond of such older recipes.

Selena couldn't stifle the giggle at the thought of an old, crusty grandpa being behind that mask. She remembered her mom telling her that bad people, no matter how pretty they are, tend to turn ugly with age, because the rot inside their soul has to come out sooner or later.

If that were true, then Emperor Belos probably wore that mask because he looked like a slitherbeasts behind.

The giggle turned into a full cackle.

By the time the gingertoes were done, the bakery was open, and Katya still hadn't arrived. That was fine, the girl knew where the spare key was. So, since the early morn was never too big of a rush, she had time to let the gingertoes cool enough to handle and pack them up. The Emperor never specified how much he wanted, she realized last night, so he would have to deal with a full baker's dozen. 

Yeah, she hoped he'd look undignified with that large cutesy box full of treats in his hands.

"Thank you, see you tomorrow!" Selena gave a small wave as the lady left. She always came in early and bought fresh bread, still hot and smelling divine. Her eyes lingered longer than usual on the door, expecting Katya to walk in at any minute, but still, the girl didn't show. She frowned, a little bit annoyed at the thought of having the store closed while she was away. Anxiety at an all time high, she got out from behind the counter and started wiping down the already clean tables.

Gotta keep those hands busy. If she didn't, she'd start thinking, and if she started thinking, she'd start overthinking, and if she started overthinking-

The sound of the chime above the door was more akin to a firecharge spell going off, making Selena feel like she was about to jump out of her own skin.

"Katya, there you-" she started enthusiastically, but it quickly withered away when she saw who entered "... aren't." She quickly regained her composure "Good morning, Emperor's guards, how can I be of service today?"

~*~*~*~

Selena started getting used to these walks, and even the palace halls started feeling more familiar. Which, when she thought about it, was not a good thing. Who wanted to accept this as their new normal? Not her, that's for sure. This time, however, her escort was stopped just short of reaching the familiar doors to the throne room.

"Hm, oh it's the baker again ." Kikimora huffed "You know, I'm beginning to wonder if you even have any customers, seeing how you have no issues abandoning your little shop so often. Is business slow, you poor thing."

Selena's lips spread into a thin smile "Well miss Kikimora, I can't very well say no to the Emperor when he so enthusiastically asked I be the only one to make his deliveries. Apparently, he only trusts me to do them, imagine that!" She let out through gritted teeth "I hope you'll excuse me for not spending more time on this lovely chat, but I'm afraid I can not keep the Emperor waiting. You know how he is." Without waiting for the guards, Selena walked straight past the demon witch and straight down the hall towards the Throne room. The guards scuttled after her once they picked up their jaws from the floor from the passively aggressive show they just witnessed.

"Good morning, Emperor!" She greeted loudly and cheerfully as she let herself into the throne room, feeling particularly bold after her run in with Kikimora. The poor guards stumbled in after her, unable to stop her as she waltzed into the throne room as if she had been there a thousand times before.

That will show Kikimora, she huffed.

And by the looks of it, Belos seemed caught off guard by the aggressively cheery disposition. He must have been standing and talking just moments before she barged in, but now it was evident his shoulders had tensed and that he had turned so swiftly to face her intrusion that his cape fluttered around him.

“I see you’re in good spirits this morning, Selena.” his voice didn’t show surprise, he schooled it quickly into a sort of friendly indifference. She felt his obscured gaze on her as she carelessly walked towards him.

“Well it’s a lovely morning, Emperor!” she was quick to respond, stopping a polite distance away from him and -oh! That was-

“That it is.” Belos turned back to who he spoke to earlier “Darius, have you met my little baker? Selena here is the only one on the Boiling Isles who specialises in human pastries.”

My little baker?!

What?!

Selena had to suppress the unpleasant shiver at that remark. What did he mean, his baker? Three deliveries and he had to make such a patronising remark? And his little baker?! Sure, she assumed he was an older man, but little ?!

“Well well, this is a surprise.” The other man was kind enough to fill in for her silence. “ Little Lena , I haven’t seen you trailing behind your uncle much lately. I suppose the bakery has kept you…busy.” he quickly glanced at Belos as he said that “How’s Sitrie?”

Ah yes. There were three of them, famously, at Hexside, the top of the Abominations track. Darius and Alador, rivals from the same year, and just a class (or two?) below them was her brother, Sitrie, who was pushed into advanced classes after his first year. Much against his will, as it so happened Sitrie wasn’t a fan of spending extra time and effort at school, despite his natural talent. But it was that laid back attitude, combined with not being a “professional” threat to the top spot of the Abomination track, that helped him not get into hot water with either of the two. When the three first met, Darius and Alador weren't at each other's throat - yet . Selena never found out what got in between them, but whatever it was, it hit strong and was bitter . Her brother never told her, either, and he refused to get involved, remaining neutral ground, in a way.

So it wasn’t a surprise Selena had met them both, while very young and very childish. She preferred not to speak of the horrid prepubescent years when she would wax poetic in her journals about her daydreams, in which the two were, in fact, rivals over her affection.

Being 13 was a horrible time for everyone and she had burned all those journals after it was obvious Darius was married to his work and Alador had actually gotten married.

(And if you asked her if she had spent over a week depressed in bed after Sitrie got the wedding invitation to the Blight wedding, she’d hotly deny it. She would not admit to how she gave way to the teenage crush-fueled curiosity and asked the spirits for guidance, and the vague answer of “Alador will wed an Oracle” gave her incredibly false hopes that came crashing down horribly all at once)

“It’s been too long, Darius! Sitrie’s well, he and Stella moved to the suburbs with mother, they prefer the quiet to the city, unlike me.” she laughed. Darius, however, didn’t seem to be in the same lighthearted mood as she was. Despite how casual his questions were, sounding like nothing more than two acquaintances just catching up, his eyes bore hard into her, making her squirm.

“Does your Uncle know you’re here? I would think Magnus would have seen you scuttling around the palace by now.”

Well she certainly hoped not. Magnus worked directly under Osran, the Oracle coven head, so he spent a lot of time shadowing him in the Palace. There were hushed whispers that he was next in line to the coveted title of Coven Head should Osran ever leave that position. Now, Selena knew that rarely were they there as early as she was, so she felt at ease knowing that the chances of Magnus seeing her were low. But now that Darius has seen her…she supposed it was only a matter of time. 

The man was a gossip, there was no way he wouldn’t let it slip that he saw his niece working deliveries for the Emperor, personally.

“No, we hadn’t had much time to speak, I was only recently requested to deliver to the palace by Emperor Belos.” she nodded towards the man in question “Apparently we both share a fondness for human sweets.” she added cheekily at the end.

Her little cutesy addendum earned a hearty chuckle from Belos. He moved closer to her, standing at her side. It was, however, the hand reaching around her back and fingers loosely gripping the shoulder opposite to him, both pulling her a tad closer to him and securing her in place in a way that was way too intimate, that made her drop the act for just a fraction of a second, her eyes widening and the corners of her lips downturning before she schooled them back into a smile.

Darius definitely took notice.

“It is a rare indulgence on my part, but one nonetheless.” Belos remarked, giving her shoulder a squeeze “I am sorry for cutting this… heartfelt reunion short, but we will continue our conversation at a later time, Darius.” he informed the coven head “ Little Lena and I here have much to discuss.”

Darius gave a short bow without missing a beat “Of course, Emperor Belos.”

Belos was quick to summon a guard (one of many placed in the Throne room), ordering him to take the delivery Selena brought up to his chambers. Slightly disappointed that she wasn’t going to see the Emperor struggle with the big cutesy box as she had imagined that morning, Selena did pout her lips in response, but still thanked the guard kindly for taking the burden off of her hands. As soon as she relinquished the box to the guard, Belos adjusted his hold on her shoulder, pulling her along with him as he led her out of the Throne room.

Panic filled Selena as he did, this being a completely new turn of events she hadn’t prepared for. Where was he taking her, exactly? And why? Couldn’t they just converse as usual in the throne room?!

“B-Bye, Darius, it was nice seeing you!” she called over her shoulder, catching Darius’ gaze out of the corner of her eye. The solemn look he gave her, combined with his rigid stance and clenched jaw, made her gut drop. In the short moment before the doors closed, she couldn’t pinpoint if he was uneasy or angry, but either way, he was not approving.

~*~*~*~

The Emperor didn’t release her.

It was an incredibly heavy silence, weighing down on her as he led her through the halls, his arm placed securely around her shoulders. He was dragging her along with him down with minimum effort. The subtle tightening of his fingers sent electricity down her entire left side, from her shoulder all the way down to her stomach - the adrenaline spike alone made her feel lightheaded, and the twists and turns through the unfamiliar corridors didn’t help the feeling either.

At one point -and she assumed it would have been hard to miss her seeing how she was constantly at the Emperor's beck and call- Kikimora had crossed their path. Her eye widened comically when she saw them, and she was left unable to form any coherent words, instead letting out a whimper, sounding like an injured beast. If Belos had seen her, he didn’t bother to acknowledge her, leading Selena right past the demon. And if she wasn’t so beyond herself at that moment, Selena would have gloated. As for now, she would have to save this as ammo for later.

Finally, they reached an unfamiliar door “This is the east wing drawing room.” Belos spoke up as he led her inside “It’s much more…private than the throne room. While loyal, the eager ears of the guards hear all.” he explained as they ventured further in, stopping in front of the seating area consisting of a sofa, a loveseat and a pair of armchairs, arranged so to encourage conversation and socialisation, with a low table at the centre.

“Please, take a seat.” He offered, loosening his grip as he directed her to the loveseat. She didn’t have much of a choice - it was more an order than an offer, with how he applied pressure to basically push her down into the seat. “Now, I have a little… surprise for you.”

Once he sat down next to her (way too close to Selena’s liking), he held out one hand that lit up with red magic - the glow was unlike anything she’s ever seen before. Each house of magic had its own unique colour, including Wild Witches whose magic was orange, and the Emperor’s coven, which was pure white. The closest in colour would be bard magic but…this wasn’t the same.

This…type of red, she didn’t recognize it.

Her train of thoughts was interrupted by a worn out notebook flying into Belos’ hand. Probably from one of the bookshelves that covered the entire wall. “Here we go.” he handed it to her “I think you’ll find this particularly interesting.”

Selena turned it over in her hands to try and find anything that would tell her more about the book, but it was just an unsigned notebook, with frayed pages and a worn out spine. No title or anything written on its cover. “What is it?” she asked and flipped through the pages. It was filled with illustrations of…fruits? Vegetables? Both familiar and unfamiliar to her, all accompanied by extensive text.

“It is a…personal journal of mine.” Belos explained “Would you like to know where my sweet tooth for human pastries came from?” This caught Selena’s attention fully, making her close the notebook and place it on her lap before she looked up at him “Now this is a bit of a secret, you don’t mind keeping it, right?” he questioned, placing one finger in front of his mask where his lips would be.

Selena nodded, now fully intrigued. “Of course not, Emperor.”

“I went there before.” he spoke fondly as he looked ahead, giving the impression of someone pulling back precious memories from the depths of their mind “The human realm.”

She had no doubts the revelation left her looking star-struck instantly, but at the moment she couldn’t help herself. The human realm? The human realm?! The oracle gasped and floundered in her seat, as if the shock made it difficult to articulate her limbs for a brief moment while she turned to face him more fully by climbing up onto the couch and kneeling on the cushions. The abrupt movement almost made the journal fall over from her lap, but she managed to grab it at the last second, holding it tightly in both hands.

“Th-th-the human realm?! You have?! What was it like? I mean - how…how did you even get there? How-”

“It was a long time ago.” he gently cut off her rambling. “There are a…number of ways to travel there, however the more time passes, the harder it is to find them, I’m afraid. I miss it dearly with each passing day.”

Selena stared at him with wide, awe-struck eyes “And…and what was it like? I-if you don't mind me asking.” she whispered in a high tone “In the human realm, I mean.”

Her enthusiasm was met with a soft chuckle “It was a wonder to behold, Selena. The nights were quiet and the rain never burned. The trees were green and the sky was the clearest blue you’ve ever seen, only matched by the cool ocean.” she could imagine him smiling behind his mask “The ocean didn’t boil. Instead it cooled you off in the summer sun.”

She sighed dreamily “It sounds absolutely enchanting, Emperor Belos.”

“Oh, it was.” he held out his hand and tapped the journal she held tightly between them “And this is what I wrote after I came back. Unfortunately as I realised I could not return, I grew nostalgic for the foods I tasted in the human realm. This journal was the research I did whilst trying to relive my memories of it.”

Selena was quick to open the journal once more and looked closer at the pages, paying more heed to the text as well.

It was fully researched and illustrated comparisons, in note and flavour, in sweetness and tartness and texture, between the foods and herbs that could be found growing on the boiling isles (both local and exotic) and the ones that existed in the human realm! Rath berries, slime lemons, blood apples and so many more, all in detail matched up to fruits and flavours one might find in the human realm. She felt her heart quicken its pace as it fell deeper and deeper in love with this journal “Emperor Belos, this is…this is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!” she let out breathlessly “The attention to detail, the way it is so concise in how it explains flavours, even going as far writing down how they change in texture and taste when cooked or fried, oh my goodness even the illustrations!” she looked up at him “I wasn’t aware you could draw as well, my lord!”

“You’re too kind.” Belos said with a lilt in his voice, making her think that he might be smiling “Would you like to borrow my journal, Selena?”

The look she gave him must have been comical, because a curt laugh actually escaped Belos upon seeing it “You…you’d let me borrow this?!”

“I think you’d make quite good use of it.” he hummed in amusement “You complained that there were quite a few recipes you couldn’t make because you couldn’t recognize the ingredients last time we talked. This journal should solve most of your problems.”

Selena couldn’t contain the excited squeal, hugging the journal to her chest “Yes!!! Yes, thank you so much! I’ll take good care of it.” she bounced slightly in her seat, joy radiating off of her in waves.

“I hope you won’t mind if I selfishly ask you to bring whatever new recipe you make for me to try?”

“My lord, I will personally bring you a new recipe every day until I have gone through every human book I have in my possession for this journal.”

The Emperor's laugh was beautiful and melodious, a rare occurrence that a very few could brag about hearing. In fact, it made Selena forget for a few moments who it was she was sitting next to, that she hated every single thing he stood for. In those moments, she only felt giddy to have made a man like him laugh so heartily, feeling like she had discovered a long lost glyph or spell and held it gently in the palms of her hands as it sparkled for only her to see. And for that moment, she wondered selfishly what that mirthful laugh had looked like behind the mask, would it look as charming as it sounded?

“I appreciate that, Selena.” She was brought back when Belos casually flicked a stray lock of hair away from her face, a playful gesture so friendly and intimate it shocked her back to reality. It felt like being dropped into an ice cold lake.

This was dangerous, he was dangerous. The way he kept lulling her into a fake sense of security like it was nothing. Making her drop her guard so quickly. It was going to be a constant battle, these morning exchanges.

“Of course Emperor!” Selena smiled as friendly as possible.

She needed to be on constant guard with this man.

[ask-sad-ghost-piett]

Posthumous Admiral's Log - Entry 39

Read the full log on Ao3.

I contacted my mother for help out of miserable desperation. Having found no other way to return to the afterlife, I had no choice.

Per usual, it wasn’t a pleasant phone call. She was upset with me for interrupting her Axxilan soap opera, and even more upset to hear that I had fallen out of the afterlife. She then subjected me to a lengthy lecture on how I ought to be more responsible.

“This is just like that time you wound up stranded on Endor,” she said. “I thought you’d have learned something from that.”

I tried to explain to her for the thousandth time that the Endor incident was the dirty work of my nerfherder ex-boyfriend in the ISB sought to have me eaten by miniature bears after we quarreled over his poor taste in music. However, she refused to listen. She’s never shown me any sympathy concerning my relationship woes, particularly concerning Chief Inspector Brek. I believe she fancied having a son-in-law in the ISB and was awfully bitter when that didn’t work out.

In the end, she reluctantly agreed to give me and my fellow undead officers a lift from this accursed planet of Exegol. However, she stated that she will not be coming until tomorrow because she has evening plans and wants to teach me a lesson of some sort.

“It’ll give you some time to think about what you’ve done,” she told me.

I asked her whether she needed the coordinates to Exegol, but she said it wasn’t necessary.

“I’ve been there a thousand times, Firmus,” she claimed. “I used to go there on a weekly basis before you were born.”

I tried to ask her what business she had on Exegol all those years ago, but she cut off our connection before I could finish my sentence.

At the end of the call, Needa patted me on the shoulder and said “she seems nice”. I swear, I wanted to slap him. I know the man has good intentions, but he absolutely cannot read the room. That’s what got him killed to begin with. The moment that his shuttle arrived on the Executor, I told him Lord Vader was in a foul mood and wouldn’t take well to apologies, but Needa refused to listen, and we all know how that story ended.

And so, I found myself left with another 13 hours to spare, stranded with the likes of Motti and Jerjerrod. Even under the present circumstances, they are pretentious as ever. Jerjerrod wrote a bloody poem about Exegol, for the love of the Emperor. I believe he claimed it was a sonnet. I wouldn’t know. I’ve never liked poetry, especially not Jerjerrod’s. The opening line was “the dead speak!”, and I walked out before he could recite the rest. I know he’ll hold this against me later, but for now, I cannot be bothered to care.

Hoping to spare myself the dreadful poetry, I decided to wander the barren landscape as a forlorn ghost, as one does to pass the time. This proved to be very bad for my emotional state, and I soon found myself with even more worries than I’d started out with, which says something. Seeing as this exercise had done no good for me, I decided to return back to the others, only to realize that I had become lost.

I then realized that my aimless wandering had gotten me into a predicament tantamount in suffering to Jerjerrod’s poetry. By virtue of being an uninhabited planet, Exegol has very few landmarks. Fortunately, my many years in the Imperial Navy thought me a thing or two about navigation. Eventually, I was able to find my way back using the angle that the starlight formed when reflected in a pool of my own tears. (Grand Moff Tarkin thought me how to do that, although he usually used the tears of others.)

Upon my return, Motti ridiculed me for getting lost while Jerjerrod mostly made passive aggressive remarks about how it was rude to walk out on his poetry recitation. Needa and Max were relieved to have me return safely, though Max was a bit upset with me for wandering off.

“You could have been accosted by Rebel exorcists for all I know,” he said. “We all hate Jerjerrod’s poetry, but that isn’t an excuse!”

I’m touched that he worries about me, though I think he’s being a little too paranoid. It isn’t as if I’m some fragile little thing after all. I did survive under Lord Vader all those years.

- Admiral Piett

[lorie217]

With Bella, anything is paw-sible.

I've been thinking of possible ways to describe Bella, my feline, four-legged, accursed, grumpy, iconic, jealous, lithe, naughty, active, beautiful kitten, friend and buddy. Her antics and behavioural patterns

Bella is only a stray cat so it's kinda difficult to say her exact age. But based on objective deductions, physical features, and characteristics. I would say she is approximately 6-7 months old. Bella was found stalking around the neighborhood by my little niece at a very tender age, probably being abandoned by her mother. After talking to a few neighbors about it an attempt to find the owner failed. We planned on calling the animal rescue team at first but on further consideration, I decided to take upon myself the duty of nurturing, caring, and taming what seemed to be a hopeless, homeless, and pitiable piece of the creature; to love and to adore. I was drawn by her shiny appearance and wide eyes. Without wasting time, I got her rehydrated and provided shelter. Fortunately, there was a Vet store around that took over caring for this adorable kitten. After she was certified well and fit, she was transferred to a new home we had put together for her. And then I thought of a name that would suit her being. Nothing made more sense than the word "Bella" which means beautiful. It described her all-round adorable charm. It seemed a difficult task initially as she failed to develop appropriate social skill but with time, she adapted and became the center of attraction as every one was in awe of her antics and sneaky but interesting behaviors. I would be talking on a few which I found most amusing .

1. Silly Sleeping Positions: Bella was a master of finding bizarre and amusing sleeping positions. She would contort her body and stretch out like furry noodles lol.

2. Bella displayed great skill of acrobatics and coordination. They termed it to be "tail chasing ". I would spend minutes watching as it was not only entertaining but made me wonder why.

3. Pouncing Surprises: She would hide behind furnitures waiting for the right moment to leap out or even attack your feet.

4. She was a natural hunter and her playfulness often mimicked hunting behavior. Animal experts explained that it helped to keep them physically active and mentally stimulated.

5.She had an inherent passion for moving objects and shadows were no exceptions. It was a good way to relief my Dad of his depression after mom passed on.

6. Annoyingly and surprisingly, Bella could interupt human computer activity as she would not only sit on the keyboard, paw at the screen but also on important documents demanding carefully handling and attention.

7. Love for heights: She would perch on high places like bookshelves, countertops, and top of furnitures. From these vintage points, she keeps an eye on everything happening around.

These traits are only but a few among others. I'm still on the lookout for something new. I find these very fascinating and mean a whole lot to me. What more can I do but share on this amazing platform, as my very first Tumblr. I only hope it reaches as much audience possible as I embark on this journey to meet a circle of worthy family and friends, communities, spaces with whom I would share my life. Cheers to happy readings and better insights as we toe along this great path together.

[dysrope]

Kill It With Fire

[turn 15: (5+3)+(6+1)=15, "build army" -3 : 12]

The Tarbra are not feeling the cosmic love and broadly unite against psykiks and Mera more generally

The appearance of the Mera challenge the traditional order of things in many ways: They dismantle their own clans and seduce the foolish youth of the north with utopian promises. They read the minds of others, and sometimes even overwrite them. They proliferate the mutations of their own flesh and that of their beasts. They build a united polity, stronger than any in the north, and rivalling established centres of power in influence.

The elders at Lach Heral, watch all these developments with growing worry, and debate long into the nights what can be done about them. As Lach Lero gains ever more footholds north of the mountains, and more and more tales of rogue psykiks reach their ears, they eventually come to a consensus: The Mera are an existential threat, and must be completely annihilated.

A proclamation is made, and promulgated amongst the clans. Those furthest away, where only vaguest rumours of the Mera have yet to reach mostly dismiss the fearmongering, more concerned with the constant conflicts with the Ohmlings, but many nearby share the worries of the fire-tenders, and readily agree to help them contain the Mera.

In the years that follow, a loosely coordinated campaign of persecution and militarization begins: Missionaries are turned away or slain; psykiks are hunted relentlessly, and any clans that took them in watched suspiciously; Tarbra with visible mutations or deviations are shunned or killed, depending on the severity; and any trace of accursed magenta is fed to the purifying flames.

Along the mountains, watch-posts are raised, vigilantly keeping the border safe, and regular raids southwards are launched - not for plunder but to slay any contaminated creatures, and set bushfires to cleanse the land. For now, they remain small in scale, but their long-term goal is clear: utterly and completely destroying Lach Lero, and permanently removing the threat posed by the Mera

[ophidahlia]

You might not think werewolves are real, but I'm here to tell you that they're not. BUT I'm also here to tell you that a far worse beast lurks the woods this time of year. In fact, I came face to face with this horrid, unnatural creature just this past Tuesday.

All the birds and other animals in my home went silent so I knew a predator was afoot. A terrible growl and crashing sounds came from my walk-in closet! I peered in and saw a hulking, hairy man-creature with the face of a wolf and long, sharp claws. My closest was a DISASTER. I screamed because I had just organised everything and the vile beast shot up and howled, tearing the nice red bolero style jacket he was trying to struggle to get into. I yelled at him because I just bought that jacket and called him a vile, accursed werewolf!

Then he got a sad look in his malevolent yellow eyes and said "Well, that's a pretty problematic thing to say! I'm not a werewolf, I'm a wear-wolf! I'm cursed to rummage through my victims' wardrobes every full moon and wear all their clothes, getting smelly wolf hair all over them! Sometimes I even pee in the shoes a bit if I'm feeling evil! I'm a monster, don't look me I'm hideous and my outfit isn't color coordinated aaaawwwwOOOOO" and then he hastily snatched a selection of handbags with his claws and crashed through my bedroom window!

I saw a pair of glowing yellow eyes near the treeline before a ghastly voice came from the shadows "Sorry about the window I'm awkward about goodbyes, hope homeowner's insurance covers that but I pooped in your stockings drawer and I'm keeping the handbags aawwoooOOOOO!" and then he was gone.

I haven't slept since that night, but this morning I found a half-eaten pair of Louboutins on my doorstep. I'm dreading the next full moon as I'm going to be bringing my Canada Goose coat out of storage...

[rollerwavegallery]

Night Gallery (1970-1973)

All of us enthralled with horror and speculative fiction have, at one point or another, wanted to visit the Night Gallery in real life. You can’t deny the pull of these accursed paintings- masterfully brought into being by Tom Wright, they go today for thousands of dollars, each one a captivating original which represents a well-written tale of the paranormal or occult. And if the Night Gallery were a real place- a tangible museum rather than a manufactured set- it would attract thousands who wished to explore its dimly lit passages, with the captivating Gil Melle tune beeping and reverberating throughout. 

Many have accused Night Gallery of failing to live up to Rod Serling’s grand vision as a playwright, yet it contains all the proper Serling elements which made Twilight Zone such a hit initially. While it lacks much of the moral and philosophical nuance that have made Twilight Zone a timeless classic, I don’t think Night Gallery was ever intended to carry the same tonal weight, and I believe its lighter, more playful, anything-goes attitude is actually a benefit. 

Today, Night Gallery is indicative of a bygone era, which only props up its surreal, abstract intentions. The artistically inclined theme the show carries is no accident- this is the ultimate anthology series for the countercultural discontent of the early 1970s. Its editing is spastic, stories end on a dime with no definite resolution, the cinematography can become disjointed and trippy at points, and behind it all are some of the best celebrity performances you’re ever likely to witness, from the likes of Roddy McDowell, Sondra Locke, Joanna Pettet, Burgess Meredith, Rene Auberjonois, and more. 

While science-fiction episodes are rare, when they do appear, they’re great examples of the Rollerwave aesthetic, featuring technological bravado that could only have sprung from the imagination of Serling and his team. The segment “The Nature Of The Enemy” is what first inspired me to write this entry- set within a NASA laboratory during moon contact, it features the optimism of the Space Race, well-polished technicians and rows of beeping consoles, all coordinated to achieve lunar domination. Today, this fanatical dedication to spatial conquest is almost unbelievable. The gap between Earth and the Moon is palpable, held together only by thin radio signals and a blurry image on a screen. I won’t go into the plot here, but suffice to say, this is some of Rollerwave at its finest. 

Or take “The Little Black Bag,” featuring what I believe is a deliberately corny interpretation of 2098, complete with radio headset and computer. This is not only one of Burgess Meredith’s finest roles, equally on par with “Time Enough At Last,” it may be one of the greatest science-fiction episodes of any show, ever. It’s a tale of technological disparity and man’s cold inhumanity to man- a story which draws an ultimately misanthropic conclusion regarding our inability to exercise responsibility and good judgment when endowed with privilege. Its final scene is deliciously morbid. 

The greatest example of the Rollerwave aesthetic at work, however, comes up in the episode “Tell David,” wherein a woman is lost during a drive in the middle of the night and inexplicably travels forward in time from 1971 to 1989. An eccentric couple, David and Pat, living in a modern home with equally modern accommodations, show her such technological wonders as a computer phone and a gorgeous radio beeping out electronic tunes. The greatest achievement on display, however, bar-none, is one of the most accurate predictions I’ve ever seen in any sci-fi, let alone from the 1970s. This episode features Google Maps.

Yes, you heard that correctly- Night Gallery, in 1971, predicted a computerized, satellite-driven index of street names, addresses, and geolocational data. This machine might appear quaint to modern audiences, however being 34 years ahead of its time (Google Maps wasn’t launched until 2005) it’s an insanely forward-thinking, practical apparatus. David, in the episode, is revealed to have an obsession with gadgets, one of his chief characteristics, likely stemming from the childhood trauma he endures as a result of his father’s murder and his mother’s subsequent suicide. His preoccupation with technological innovation and modernity is in all likelihood a means for him to escape the horrors of his troubled past. This is not stated outright in the episode, of course, yet it comes across well enough as a subtext. Little else should be said regarding the intricacies of the episode- rest assured, it’s one of the Gallery’s finest. 

Here we must ultimately pass judgment on this show- does it constitute Rollerwave? I would argue that it does, at least when it attempts to tackle futuristic or scientific elements. These semantic concerns are ultimately what keeps this blog interesting- and why I began it in the first place. As a young, relatively unexplored genre, Rollerwave requires canonization- that is to say, an expert who can define what it is and isn’t. This expertise requires intuition, the ability to play it by ear, for the most part. Not all science fiction from the 1970s is Rollerwave- Alien, for instance, definitely isn’t.. By the same token, not all Rollerwave films are science-fiction, as is the case with Taxi Driver. 

I would be remiss not to include Night Gallery here, it’s a quintessential assortment of quirky 1970s fashion and attitude, and is, after all, the namesake for this project. Yes, that’s how much of a sucker I am for this program. Make of that what you will. 

[kaleidoscopic-kelvinator]

PLEASE!!! Just let this 3D coordinates system thing work!!! I need to wrap my head around this accursed bone cage!!!

[firealder2005]

Whumpcember 2022: Day 1. HYPOTHERMIA

My First-Ever Entry in Anything Whump!

Featuring: Rey being the Whumpee and Luke trying not to hyperventilate (on screen, at least. pretty sure he’s doing it off-screen lol)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43294689

Enjoy!

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Rey felt her teeth chatter as she hugged her arms around her, rubbing her gloved hands under her armpits. Blinking the sudden wetness from her eyes, she squinted through the heavy snow, keeping her eyes pinned on the brown and cream clothed figure of Jedi Master Luke Skywalker.

“How much farther?” she called, reluctantly freeing a hand from the semi-warmth of her armpit to rub at her cold nose, sniffling all the while.

“Not far,” Luke replied, turning his head around to check on his padawan. The two of them had arrived on the cold, snowy world of Vandor, seeking help from any sentient life for help fixing their ship. A quick look in the databanks had given them the information they needed on where to go - but the problem was that it was quite the trek from their slowly freezing ship to any form of civilization.

Rey shuddered again. She hoped they could find Fort Ypso, where residents of this Force-forsaken planet must live. She didn’t think she could take any more of this cold!

Rubbing her gloves together, and praying that the friction would provide some warmth for her, she jogged to catch up to her master, the man who had found her on her homeworld of Jakku when she was eight years old and gave her a new life.

As a shiver racked through her body once more, Rey had a wry smile on her face. Yeah, desert girls from a scorching planet like Jakku don’t do well in deathly cold weather.

Even if they had been off the accursed world for six years.

Rey then stumbled, arms pinwheeling as she fought to regain her balance.

“Whoa!” Luke called, gently grabbing her shoulders and realigning her with the world. “You okay?” he swatted down, staring intently into her brown eyes with his own blue. Rey nodded, glancing down at the snow beneath them, and frowned as she couldn’t spot what must have tripped her.

Shrugging, she said; “Must’ve been a loose rock or something. I’m good to keep going.”

Luke stared at her with a critical gaze, then nodded. “If you say so,” he said, rising back up to his feet and shaking the snow that had piled onto his hood. “Just a klick more - maybe not even that.”

Relieved, Rey smiled, blinking the tiredness from her eyes, before trudging alongside Luke.

After a while - maybe half a klick? - she felt like her blood was moving at a slug’s pace, and she was shivering even worse than before. Not to mention it was suddenly very hard to breathe - what was up with that?

“H-how m-much farth-hrr?” she slurred as her teeth viciously chattered. Luke glanced at her, a small frown on his face, but she gave him her most winning smiles and he sent her a small one back - admittedly, it was still a concerned one, but she was fine! It wasn’t that much farther, she can handle it!

Luke took out his datapad, inspected their coordinates, and sighed. “Weathers making it a little wonky,” he muttered, squinting through the hailing snow. “But I’d say we’re less than a fourth a mile away.”

“Good,” Rey grunted, frowning as she blearily stared around. “‘Cuz I’m feelin’ veeery sleepy….” she yawned loudly. Luke paused, the blue light from his datapad lightly washing his face.

“Rey?” he said softly, brows furrowed. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah!” Rey snapped suddenly. “I’m fine! It’s just a little cold! I can handle it!”

Luke hesitated, blue eyes flicking around her face, narrowing as they landed on something. Rey self-consciously raised her hand to her cheek, but completely missed her target and inside nearly poked herself in the eye. She lurched her head back, then let out a startled cry as her legs gave out and she hit the snow with a whump.

“Rey! Rey!” she felt someone grab her shoulders, but the voice seemed so far away… “Rey, don’t close your eyes! Concentrate on my voice!”

“B-but I so…” she muttered, eyes darting around, not recognizing the worried face in front of her. “I so tired…”

“I know Rey, I know,” the voice soothed, but even this confused Rey could tell it was worried - fearful, even. She swore she could feel that dark, dreaded feeling swirling around the voice…

She heard the voice muttering now - something about finding somewhere warm? But she felt warm already…why would she need more?

Rey felt her breathing slow, and she let out a soft sigh. It felt kinda nice actually. The snow gently resting on her cheeks and eyelashes. The nice, warm feeling inside her. The soft whip of the sharp wind against her skin, before it was covered by the rustling of fabric…and Luke’s voice.

She blinked, vision suddenly clearing, and she slowly turned her head, seeing her hair and surrounding head cover my Luke’s cream cloak.

Luke’s voice. That was Luke’s voice.

And he sounded terrified.

Rey blinked again, shock entering her system and jolting her awake. She had never, ever heard her teacher that scared.

What had happened that caused this fear?

She groaned, moaning a bit as a sharp twist of pain flew across her face, and she tried to raise herself up.

“No, Rey!” Luke’s half-relieved and half-terrified voice ordered her. “Stay down. You need to stay laying down.” he fumbled through his bag, before drawing out a thermal blanket. “I’m going to wrap this around you, okay?” his voice was softer now, almost soothing, and Rey slowly nodded, still blinking in slight confusion. What had happened?

“You passed out,” Luke answered, making her jump as he carefully wrapped the blanket around her. “Hypothermia’s a bitch, believe me. You aren’t the first to get it,” he looked into her eyes, a wry grin on his lips now that the danger had passed. “And you won’t be the last.”

Rey gave a weak grin in response, feeling very foolish right now. Curse her pride! She had passed out - fainted! What would Luke think of her now?

She gingerly took the flask of a warm drink Luke had brought along, and took a long, slow sip, savoring the flavor.

Hot chocolate.

Delicious.

“Better?” Luke asked, dragging his own gloved hand down her face, staring intently at her. She meekly nodded, still feeling embarrassed from her…episode.

“Again,” Luke suddenly said as he picked up his datapad from the snow - he must have dropped it in his haste to save her life. “You aren’t the first to suffer from hypothermia, Rey.” he glanced up at her, and Rey eyed him out of the corner of her eye. “I was twenty-two when I first got hypothermia.”

Rey’s eyes widened a bit, and she curiously glanced at him. “You got it too?” she found herself asking. “How?”

Luke blew out a breath, staring at the datapad. It was displaying a distress signal, and Rey was relieved that someone was probably going to find them and get them somewhere safe - and warm.

Warm would be good.

Very good.

“Rebellion days,” Luke began as he packed his datapad away. “We were on Hoth, sometime before Bespin happened, and I was out on Tauntaun patrol. We were attacked by a Wampa - I was lucky to escape from its cave, but the freezing temperature was no good for me.” he gazed at her. “I passed out then and there too. Would’ve died if Han hadn’t had the nerve - or foolishness - to charge out into the blizzard to find me.” he blew out an annoyed sigh. “I actually owe Han a lot for saving my life…” he muttered good-naturedly, making Rey giggle as she sipped on the hot chocolate.

“Don’t you always, Dad-” she cut herself off, eyes widening, before quickly guzzling down some more of that delicious chocolate - which was a bad idea, since she immediately began coughing, feeling her tongue burn and her eyes water.

Luke quickly rubbed her back. “Easy there,” he said, sitting down beside her, legs extended away from them. “Not a good idea, that.”

“Y-yeah,” Rey coughed, sniffling once more. “Figured that out pretty quick.”

They sat in silence for a bit, before Luke quietly said; “What you said before…were you saying-”

“Dad?” she answered, just as quietly. She didn’t dare look at him. “Yeah…yeah I was.” she picked at the rim of the flask in her hand, before blurting out; “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable! I didn’t mean to, it just slipped out-”

Luke placed a finger against her mouth, and she stopped talking instantly - but still studiously avoided his eyes.

“I don’t know about you,” he said casually. “But I wouldn’t say no to having a kid.”

Rey peeked at him from her bundle of clothing. “You wouldn’t?” she winced at how squeaky her voice sounded. Damn puberty.

Luke chuckled. “No, I wouldn’t mind if you called me dad,” he said. He wrapped his right arm around her shoulders, and drew her into his side, rubbing her own arm with his black-gloved hand. “But I must warn you, the only father-figures I had in my life either were overprotective, died, or had a problem with finding their own goodness. So I apologize in advance if any of those things happen to me.”

Rey stared at him.

“I think I’ll take the first option, thank you.”

[danishkhan786]

Cellphone hacker

Dark web hackers

As indicated by ITProPortal, the cybercrime economy could be greater than Apple, Google and Facebook consolidated. The business has developed into a coordinated market that is likely more beneficial than the medication exchange.

Lawbreakers utilize inventive and best in class devices to take data from huge and little associations and afterward either use it themselves or, generally normal, offer it to different crooks through the Dull Web.

Little and average sized organizations have turned into the objective of cybercrime and information breaks since they don't have the premium, time or cash to set up guards to safeguard against an assault. Many have huge number of records that hold Individual Recognizing Data, PII, or astute property that might incorporate licenses, research and unpublished electronic resources. Other private ventures work straightforwardly with bigger associations and can act as a gateway of section similar as the air conditioning organization was in the Objective information break.

Probably the most splendid personalities have created inventive ways of keeping significant and confidential data from being taken. These data security programs are, generally, cautious in nature. They fundamentally set up a mass of insurance to keep malware out and the data inside free from even a hint of harm.

Refined programmers find and utilize the association's most vulnerable connections to set up an assault

Tragically, even the best cautious projects have openings in their assurance. Here are the difficulties each association faces as per a Verizon Information Break Examination Report in 2013:

76% of organization interruptions investigate powerless or taken qualifications

73% of web based financial clients reuse their passwords for non-monetary sites

80% of breaks that elaborate programmers utilized taken certifications

Symantec in 2014 assessed that 45% of all assaults is identified by customary enemy of infection implying that 55% of assaults go undetected. The outcome is hostile to infection programming and cautious security programs can't keep up. The trouble makers could currently be inside the association's walls.

Little and fair sized organizations can experience the ill effects of an information break. 60% leave business in something like a time of an information break as per the Public Network protection Coalition 2013.

How might an association safeguard itself from an information break?

For a long time I have pushed the execution of "Best Practices" to safeguard individual distinguishing data inside the business. There are essential practices each business ought to execute to meet the prerequisites of government, state and industry rules and guidelines. I'm miserable to say not many little and moderate sized organizations satisfy these guidelines.

Thesubsequent step is something new that most organizations and their specialists haven't known about or executed into their security programs. It includes observing the Dull Web.

The Dim Web holds the key to dialing back cybercrime

Cybercriminals straightforwardly exchange taken data on the Dull Web. It holds an abundance of data that could adversely influence an organizations' current and imminent clients. This is where crooks go to purchase sell-exchange taken information. It is simple for fraudsters to get to taken data they need to penetrate business and lead accursed undertakings. A solitary information break could take an association of down.

Luckily, there are associations that continually screen the Dim Web for taken data all day, every day, 365 days per year. Lawbreakers straightforwardly share this data through discussion channels, online journals, sites, announcement sheets, Distributed networks and other bootleg market locales. They distinguish information as it gets to criminal order and-control servers from various geologies that public IP addresses can't get to. How much compromised data assembled is amazing. For instance:

A great many compromised qualifications and Canister card numbers are reaped consistently

Roughly 1,000,000 compromised IP addresses are gathered consistently

This data can wait on the Dull Web for weeks, months or, in some cases, years before it is utilized. An association that screens for taken data can see very quickly when their taken data appears. The subsequent stage is to make a proactive move to tidy up the taken data and forestall, what could turn into, an information break or business fraud. The data, basically, becomes pointless for the cybercriminal.

What might befall cybercrime when most little and medium sized organizations treat this Dim Web checking in a serious way?

The impact on the crook side of the Dull Web could be devastating when most of organizations execute this program and exploit the data. The objective is to deliver taken data futile as fast as could be expected.

There won't be a lot of effect on cybercrime until most of little and fair sized organizations carry out this sort of hostile activity. Cybercriminals are depending on not very many organizations make a proactive move, yet on the off chance that by some wonder organizations awaken and make a move we could see a significant effect on cybercrime.

Tidying up taken accreditations and IP tends to isn't confounded or troublesome once you realize that the data has been taken. The organizations don't have a clue about their data has been compromised that will endure the greatest shot.

 

Is this the most effective way to dial back cybercrime? What do you this is the most effective way to safeguard against an information break or business fraud - Choice one: Hang tight for it to work out and respond, or Choice two: Take hostile, proactive moves toward track down compromised data on the Dull Web and tidy it up?

Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/9050317According to ITProPortal, the cybercrime economy could be greater than Apple, Google and Facebook consolidated. The business has developed into a coordinated market that is presumably more productive than the medication exchange.

Crooks utilize creative and cutting edge instruments to take data from huge and little associations and afterward either use it themselves or, generally normal, offer it to different lawbreakers through the Dull Web.

Little and fair sized organizations have turned into the objective of cybercrime and information breaks since they don't have the premium, time or cash to set up safeguards to safeguard against an assault. Many have huge number of records that hold Individual Recognizing Data, PII, or canny property that might incorporate licenses, research and unpublished electronic resources. Other private ventures work straightforwardly with bigger associations and can act as a gateway of passage similar as the air conditioning organization was in the Objective information break.

The absolute most splendid personalities have created imaginative ways of keeping significant and confidential data from being taken. These data security programs are, generally, cautious in nature. They fundamentally set up a mass of insurance to keep malware out and the data inside free from even a hint of harm.

Modern programmers find and utilize the association's most fragile connections to set up an assault

Sadly, even the best guarded programs have openings in their security. Here are the difficulties each association faces as per a Verizon Information Break Examination Report in 2013:

More information :- https://needhackers.com/