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teddysgrahms · 1 year

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my anderperry playlist and song explanations because I am gay

• Those magic changes by sha na na

One of my favorite songs from grease and also about the night and moment of falling in love and the blissful joy of that moment. The song has an element of angst to it but I look past it. like that is so anderperry I’m sorry? me when I fell in love to those magic changes?

• I melt with you by modern English

this song is about having s3x during a nuclear apocalypse but for my intents and purposes it’s about being with your lover at the end of the world and melting together metaphorically (and physically!) I just think they would die for each other idk

• (Feels like) heaven by fiction factory

the vibes are so excellent in this song + spending time with your lover is heaven in and of itself. they just. really like being together.

• la vie en rose by louis armstrong

this song makes me um explode I imagine them dancing poorly to this in their living room and stepping on each other’s feet and giggling and stumbling over one another and they are the most precious things ever?

• thirteen by big star

this song gives off the vibe of school age crushes and young romance and first love nerves and that’s just so them. it’s literally them your honor

• electric blue by icehouse

i think of this song as neil’s initial feelings for todd, lord of nerves and uncertainty and jitters because wow this boy is cute

• futile devices

a long-lasting love that’s become so natural it’s hard to put into words. I associate this one strongly with todd and how he handles his feelings about neil. sometimes words are not enough, and that is okay

• good old-fashioned lover boy by Queen

Neil is THE good old-fashioned loverboy and I will not hear otherwise. he’d be such a little gentleman and plan cute dates and do everything in his power to make things amazing and even when things aren’t great his effort is duly noted and appreciated

• put your head on my shoulder by Paul anka

I don’t think I need to explain myself. they enjoy a good cuddle. they’re in love. what more must i say

• dream a little dream of me by Doris day

hail Queen Doris Day this song is so adorable just the vibes alone are so anderperry core. like dream of me when you sleep tonight. we could stay up all night but you will see me in your dreams anyhow I love you <3

• i can dream, can’t i? by the andrews sisters

this one is a bit sad because the speaker is convinced they have no chance with their romantic interest. this is very todd core to me. he’d think he has no shot with neil but he can always dream (we are dreaming of tomorrow but tomorrow isn’t coming?)

• my romance by doris day

very neil coded. he doesn’t need anything special he just needs Todd and that’s good enough for him.

• time after time by iron & wine

beautiful cover by an all-time classic. they will always be there for each other, to find one another when they’re lost and catch the other when they fall

• old black train by the blasting company

the vibes are delectable. It feels like running away from home and searching for something unknown, a sort of yearning for a better life than the one you have. I imagine them running away together and being frightful and uncertain yet assured knowing they have each other. (but that lingering sense of “You can’t go back” is ever present and it’s nearly dreadful!)

• dear wormwood by the oh hellos

so. um. if u know me u know I’m a neil kinnie and uh. girlies this song is so him it actually makes me sick. I’ve put some songs in this playlist that are more specific to either Neil or todd individually and this is one of them. the self-discovery. the growth to demand better for yourself and refuse to be treated as less than by a parental figure. so fucking delicious. ugh.

• you’re the one by the vogues

adorable vibes and an overall cute song about loving your partner wholeheartedly. upbeat and catchy. I can imagine them dancing to this one also but in a more upbeat way

• thursday by asobi seksu

ngl this song changed me as a person I think ummm this just gives me todd vibes? something about losing your way, feeling lost and searching for anything to latch onto, holding on to the people closest to you out of fear they may leave at any moment….

• amoeba by clairo

the second todd song. are you a man or an amoeba? damn what if he felt more like an amoeba, like he just goes with how things are and never speaks or acts to how he feels and wants to do things? what if he was barely living?

• the book of love by the magnetic fields

This song makes me INSANE it’s so CUTE they are just so in love and they love each other and hearing the other read or sing or do anything asgghhhurufuh

• satellite by guster

they see each other almost like beacons or lifelines to look to, constants that are safe and reassuring. they are each other’s home.

• im a fool to want you by Frank Sinatra

again that idea of “I have no chance I’m stupid for liking you” but still being unable to change how you feel and just having to live with this heartbreak that has yet to occur

• it only takes a moment from hello, dolly!

Fun fact: this song got me through costume making. this song is in wall-e and aside from being one of the most beautiful songs ever in existence it is SO….I can’t even begin to describe. something about being loved enough for a whole lifetime in only a brief moment….do you think that even though the time neil and todd had together was short it was some of if not the best time of their lives?

• dancing in the moonlight by king harvest

another dancing song! I can see all the poets dancing to this truthfully. very cute song and I just adore the vibes and rhythm

• hopelessly devoted to you by olivia newton-john

this one is a bit dramatic for them but I can see Neil performing this with theatrical effort and intense dramatics

• love me as though there were no tomorrow by nat king cole

euggahhhhhhhhh love me like this is the last chance we’ll ever have……

• earth angel by the penguins

i think they both see each other as like blessings or miracles because their meeting improved both of their lives immensely and may quite possibly have been the best thing to happen to either of them

• you, my love by frank sinatra

i think this one aligns with how Todd feels about neil and how grateful he is to have him in his life. idk man they’re in love

• love letters by nat king cole

can’t remember how this one goes but I know the vibes are good and very them

• when I fall in love by Doris day

This Song is so gorgeous and ggrhehehhhaa I’m gonna break something it’s just so???? they????

• you send me by sam cooke

they both get flustered by how loving the other is and they’re just so damn adorable

• in the still of the night by the five satins

they . they’re in love.

okay that’s all thank youuuu

#dead poets society #neil perry #todd anderson #anderperry #dps #dead poets headcanons #can you tell i got tired towards the end 😜

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libidomechanica · 5 months

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Let rays from her Hand

A kimo sequence

She dreamt, clothing would content? Oft till the new so through a mimic the sword! Let rays from her Hand?

Till love neurosis a posy of nose: be my life’s iron chain’d to pray; who wear. Come to me.

What I hope she hundred young Lochinvar. Or rather time where you could be quiet luxury.

A well-known in uniform. Fair czarina’s autocratic create, thought. His Highness of wit.

—Oh Shame in ten? And revels, reader! Throughout and she’d said, this; for it had return! Bulletin.

If stars from all the voice come to save the tow’ry fence of Dudu, who fain outrun her. Her pause.

Whoever hearts an hour before might fall, or proclaim, till what was a crimson shore! Fill the worse.

And other of art—have buildings in the long woo’d them and round undistinguish. A belt a growth.

If I have more. The integrity of better dear oration, could rather through joys are kind!

He was he courts, was wrought me to threaten’d and veneration. Joy so pure golden butterflies.

Continue. And in the smoke, felt close the old bygones by the wind’s eye and that’s favour this plea.

They mean, thought by his job.—Tis but vow their age: for after than there’s a serpent’s genial vaine.

Why so much better twenty-nine do out of the siren! They glide, their efforts should so mine eyes!

But vulnerable verse like her, I’m with all that’s step, he called Rescue Inc. Ascribe, unless plan?

Becomes at spring; and arm’d with all the silent than are borne? Would his garden in this—the bliss.

Thoughtful things from Nubia brought to hiccup’d, Our old man’s space and her heart so gentler dress. Perceived.

If single scorn to laugh at a flower, especially some no more the same. She was stronger?

The heroines, and wonder endymion awoke, the starting-post. When the Night; o, for some back.

But many a benison. There’—for who wish is quiver is committed too much as the pails.

Yet incess and empty corridors which outweighs the pearl, and for that to my pure blood her years.

Else men who servent. He does not all the best barouched so forth, when his anger of the same.

The light, their tawny brushed than the sun and arrows, which to each! To Lady would shall with apple.

Past his firmness—know your side outgush’d, in control. From a rugged rynde, and most trying, and will be.

A vein had dreamed them—whose from room corner me again went noiseless virgin’s blossom to roam.

Each under the morning’s eye. Hides, he hath been raised at the sang in a silver bounds, from his pall.

For Fortune’s shadowing went to Germany, about themselves dead. Dream, we saw him spread with truth.

Shine, command of time could he not answer. Could tell you, or ambition, which to myself converse.

So they say so Bryant spirits as lilies’ shade, not the delicious. Were some the other’s hats.

With every body marred. Some people of immortal in any way be sent, etc.

For a mask. The night, but Turkish forc’d him a large black hair damp from purblind but vulnerable.

Our friend Hortensius. As may service without superb to show the glistering in their broadside.

Alone can scarce lose; yet as the meadow- land, than he, proscribe,—that is it? Away, the where his!

I will no more, that I shall know the next swath and purblind and the tumult fell in vain the late.

And so good companions of sight moon shiny blacker than young Lochinvar. Then didst thus of wit.

Is nothing like asp with what higher. Hang: but when spray, a court, or sink, and Hoigh for, by my soul.

I dreadful dawn wound her wrists like knots. For some gentle selves become in nets, dreading course of sway.

You please: a life my life’s work they were was given here I could pipe of man. As one by one here!

Which their luckiest sinner? From him: You wilt steal me a plague brig—Corpo di Caio Mario!

She ships, touch thing here, excuse! I think exists in forests, i, that I may. No thou art forest!

Heart. Tis time me peaches. Is as a fossile made a wild orders to be e’er was as mine?

Of thine image in motion. Of the Sculptor’s face by hope to show a fair beseem’d with thou now.

But the right. The commission the summit of strife arose in your conqueror William did reare.

I coof cam in winding children. My hear the more adapted to display’d that forsaken die?

There was power. And poesy. So kiss. By Swift, mad, and I am gone to the yards of ocean?

And silence what we love no more or lees to where her to the monstrous god rimmed cloud: for ever?

Rise and Lion—let none struggle, that gentle pair! The region; now tis pity love: too long wave?

To the tide, so that lover! All pall they camel’s hump, beside and stony sleep so sore, hey ho!

Like others black—o! He took it only bitches, which youth asleep: vainly ran my heart aflame.

With accents hackney on her, nightlier moved and beauty stood the murmured Ida. In truth, O Love!

Or, falling pain.—Cruel god, and wave: and made them, lay dormant alkali, although young Lochinvar.

But, when the Laocoon’s above all open- mouthed, she progress of mind? To me more is not amiss.

Bud-packed to reasonable, plate as warriors, unless than hath nypt my meed. Wilderness now, for thee.

For catch the sky. I there; ascends the pleased what her hung up the Hall to tears re-sighing,—weaning.

Human, with curse, and lang; she music: ’ and Boats, ’ and Boats, ’ and t is silver, form’d him, force me on.

Last Love, I only which kept in a breach? Dearer to dance, chattels, mincers of the desert sky?

The March of ages evening, we will exact, and Hortensius. Weep for dearest bands untwining?

Her I lost bright, his the wife, he stones dead religion, Mrs. And harlotry maid, forgot em.

When Nero perish intrude, and sadly? Though the unshapeliest, chaste of shame, who have delight?

Comes our future came all enjoying hair when all while the tumults, but found her child to his sight?

Ere tyrants in his halls the rock the way of getting auburn wave to like. Floats scumlike each sense.

An epitaphs our gown. The heaven so that is leaguer’d by black eyes are drawest thankfully.

But as their nuptial room, imprison,—but it was now, I there’s note! And twice a day they slept.

So bereft, there for either statues. My sight clothed a squabble; but woman wed, and what Fame has.

Even ashes of salt estarnging hand and rich the none, and guilt! Lucus a noble, flung it.

We didn’t expenses. From North. The Don, Balgounie’s brows over. Last Love, I am sure victories.

Not die.—How some to loves himself mighty ones who knew that all the same type of Terror was left.

Slaughter—had no need of province or awe, who much, earthly goods are no more. The verge of this life?

Of any sage’s crest, as he spot, and mode in which still the heaven. Holds my sweet with a Swan.

Drinks themselves for ever feet; with no long. From off the canker to the braes o’ Ballochmyle.

This canvas close besides what the ensuing sea. Do Well, the figurehead with the Harvest Home.

Be one with feminine dominion: now delay, young Lochinvar? That he wage a roughness dole.

And all the past, therewith Haidee’s know what sweet Arethusa. Hoping lies—This Story now.

Where were those which the chosen fountain might seem some vexation; for dear life! For thy smoothest Sleep!

Upon these sodain rysing of them, as rotted, ere them. I long tresses it in things, all sung.

Died the sounds in timely deemed pale as plains. Nor leave my winds, and lo, wonders by a familiar.

Yet still we would I painters for nuts at last, with the Sultan has’t by kind. I trusts him, and rill.

And breast. And that nought soft kind of break your flies, and round, and build to his necessity. We thing.

This even lookin’ to meet heresy, such less resolved to pot. With eyes that inspired plains.

The golden Apollonian elegance, with mealy sweet Highland Mary. Would Chloe knows!

This is the Jews from being: now, the moor. So bold, along traveller, in song, a handsome like.

To watch him here seen to a silent spring. Who was strangers in thy house nor me not with thee.

With mews. Which, when there heo on me sigh d for fool and me for the pillow, the chaffe forms of light?

In earth has got to be hove doth good old gentleman’s oppression, the bird their husband. The swan.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #158 texts #kimo sequence

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cupids-chronicles · 1 year

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Hades X Persephone Saga: A Touch of Malice #4

Author: Scarlett St. Clair

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Mythology

My Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐/5.

Spice: 🌶🌶🌶

Goodreads rating: 4/5

Pages: ‎‎‎464

Published: 23 May 2021

A Touch of Malice Review

Note: This book is intended for mature audiences over the age of 18 due to explicit content (steamy chapters).

Greek gods with contemporary problems? Sign me up! “A Touch of Malice,” Scarlett St. Clair's mythical rollercoaster, has Persephone as a news mogul, Demeter as the mother of all 'I object to this wedding!' tropes, and Hades as… well, a slightly doting fiance stuck in a mysterious trap.

From the beginning, there’s something hilariously ironic about the gods dealing with contemporary issues. Persephone isn’t just trying to escape the underworld; she's managing a news organization and planning a wedding while navigating the treacherous waters of the Olympian tabloids. I mean, what’s a god to do when their engagement goes viral? Moreover, Demeter's 21st-century style of maternal disapproval? A snowstorm in summer! Talk about icy cold passive-aggression.

In a whirlwind of romance, fantasy, and the sort of drama only gods can truly pull off, “A Touch of Malice” offers readers a dazzling and sometimes befuddling ride. That said, our experience wasn't always divinely inspired. Scarlett, oh Scarlett, your grand tapestry was occasionally marred by typos.

Now, the plot. There's more action packed into this tome than Hercules had labors. Between dramatic confrontations with the Olympians, terrorist groups with a vendetta against gods (certainly a twist), and Demeter's frosty tantrums, the narrative seemed to sprint from one divine catastrophe to another. And the ending? If anyone saw that coming, they must have been consulting the Oracle at Delphi.

However, for all its action and divine intervention, the essence of the story is grounded in relationships. Helen's betrayal, Sybil's trials, and Persephone's growth (Thank the gods for this) as a character shine through, reminding us that even gods and demigods aren't immune to personal evolution. Hades and Persephone's relationship, which has seen everything from elopement to magical ring tracking, remains at the story's heart. Their passion might just have Aphrodite herself raising an eyebrow.

But, as with any delectable Greek feast, there are moments when you think, "Did I really need that extra baklava?" Some of the book's descriptions left me craving for more, like glimpsing a delicious dish but not getting a taste. This is particularly felt in the descriptions, which, at times, seem to flit between too vague and too detailed.

Yet, despite its faults, there's a pull to the narrative, much like Hades' pull on Persephone. The overarching question keeps you reading: "How on Earth (or the Underworld) will this all resolve?" And of course, waiting to see if your theories play out – because let's be honest, we all love to play oracle from time to time.

Perhaps my favorite aspect is how St. Clair brings a touch of humanity to these otherwise lofty figures. The quote, “Grief means we loved fiercely…and if that is all anyone ever has to say about either one of us in the end, I think we lived our best life,” resonates deeply, reminding us of the universality of love, loss, and the complex tapestry of emotions that even gods can't escape.

To wrap up, "A Touch of Malice" is a quirky, modern retelling of Grecian legends with an extra dose of drama. Would recommend as it is my favourite installment thus far, but perhaps with a small side note: get a cozy blanket, brew a warm drink, and brace yourself for the wintry storm of Demeter's displeasure.

Please note that this book is part of a series and can not be read as a stand alone. Lucky for you this can be your little weekend binge as almost all the books in the series has already been released !

Wait a minute boys and girls, check out these trigger warnings first:

Rape

PTSD

Suicide

Death

Torture

Violence

War

Romance tropes... you ask ?

War

Marriage

Pregnancy

Who do we meet in this book ?

Hades

Persephone (Perri)

What to read next:

Neon Gods (Dark Olympus) by Katee Robert.

The Cruel Prince by Holly Black.

Drag Me Up (Gods of Hunger) by R.M. Virtues.

Or just like read the next few books of this series.

#book review #books #romance books #book recommendations #books and reading #bookstagram #bookworm #review #a touch of malice #hades and persephone #hades #persephone #greek gods #mythology #book #booktok books

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vegi1 · 1 year

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Build Muscle with a Vegan Bodybuilding Meal Plan

As a vegan, I understand the struggle to balance nutrients, especially concerning bodybuilding. So, let’s talk about how many calories vegan bodybuilders need.

Firstly, it’s important to note that the number of calories needed can vary depending on factors like age, weight, and level of physical activity. But generally, vegan bodybuilders should aim for a calorie intake that allows them to maintain their current weight or gain muscle mass.

A good starting point for someone looking to build muscle is to consume around 500 calories more than their daily maintenance needs. This surplus of calories will help provide the necessary energy for muscle growth and repair.

To build muscle mass, you will need fuel to help build muscles and boost their size.

But how to determine how many calories you need as a vegan bodybuilder?

It is better to consult with a registered dietitian or sports nutritionist who can help you create a personalized nutrition plan based on your specific needs and goals.

They may also consider your training schedule, supplements, and other factors affecting your calorie needs.

Furthermore, an online calculator can measure how many calories can help you reach your desired muscle mass.

As a starter, you can rely on these online tools. Still, it would be best to consider that many factors are involved in this process. You cannot give an identical prescription due to activity, metabolism, stress levels, hydration, sleep quality, and time allocated to your workout.

Did you know that carbohydrates are the ultimate fuel for your body? Without them, it’s like trying to drive a car without gas! So, you must ensure you’re getting enough carbs for workouts and everyday energy. And not just carbs, but complex carbs that give you sustained energy throughout the day. Complex carbs such as whole grains, fruits, and vegetables are important for providing sustained energy during workouts, while healthy fats from sources like nuts, seeds, and avocado help support overall health and hormone production.

Also, Think brown rice, quinoa, and whole-wheat pasta – not only are they delicious, but they’re also excellent sources of these complex carbs that your body craves. So why not whip up a tasty meal and give your body the fuel it deserves?

Because they are high in starch and soluble fiber, so they help prevent blood sugar spikes and increase satiety.

Additionally, fruits and vegetables provide valuable vitamins and minerals. They can be used as a smoothie base or as a side dish.

If you do light exercise for an hour or less, aim to get around 1.5 grams of carbs for every pound you weigh. But if you do intense exercise for up to five hours, try to get up to 5.5 grams of carbs for every pound you weigh.

Focusing on macronutrients may lead to forgetting micronutrients. But the importance of micronutrients is equal to macronutrients for having a healthy body. It’s essential to consume adequate amounts of micronutrients, including iron, calcium, and vitamin B12.

There are plenty of delicious and nutritious vegan-friendly foods that vegans can eat to meet their Vitamin B12 needs. Have you tried nutritional yeast? It’s a tasty cheesy-flavored seasoning that’s packed with B12.

And almond milk is not only a tasty dairy alternative, but it’s also often fortified with B12. Plus, whole grain cereals and leafy greens like spinach are also excellent sources of this vital vitamin.

To ensure sufficient calcium, you must incorporate calcium-rich foods into your diet, including fortified plant-based milk, dark leafy greens, nuts, and seeds.

In addition to calcium, iron is one of the micronutrients that most people suffer from a lack of it. As you may know, iron plays a vital role in transferring oxygen to the muscles.

Nuts, hemp seeds, raisins, and fortified breakfast cereals are all great options to help you meet your daily iron needs.

So, no need to stress about missing out on this vital nutrient. Include these tasty foods in your diet, and you’ll be ready!

To maximize iron absorption, you can get help from Vitamin C, which has a significant role in iron absorption.

For a pre-lunch snack, I like to have a protein smoothie packed with fruits, veggies, and plant-based protein powder.

One of my favorite smoothie recipes includes a banana, a handful of berries, a cup of spinach, a scoop of pea protein powder, and some unsweetened almond milk.

I blend everything until smooth and creamy, then pour it into a to-go cup for easy on-the-go snacking.

This smoothie is a great way to sneak in some extra veggies and antioxidants while providing the protein I need to keep my muscles fueled and growing. Plus, it’s a refreshing and energizing snack that helps me power through the rest of my day.

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everdreamart · 3 years

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How I Gravitate Towards You

Rating: Teen and up

Relationship: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widowgast

The Mighty Nein return The Blooming Grove. Essek takes time to think about the events that happened and has a talk with Caleb. Things slowly escalate from there ;)

~~~~~~~~~~

The grove was beautiful. Vines intertwined and tangled with the colorful blooms dotting the landscape. You would almost forget that this was, infact, a graveyard with the amount of life around it. Essek took a second to breathe in the nature around him. A very welcome change of environment compared to Cognoza.

Sighs and cheers of relief and triumph echoed around him as the Mighty Nein bathed in their newfound victory. The sight warmed his chest. His friends. Now there were actually nine of them.

How ironic. Essek thought to himself with a smile.

The Clays burst out of the moss covered temple and started to bombard the group with hugs. Caduceus was practically beaming with joy to see his family again. Jester rambled on about their adventure as the Clays eagerly rushed them inside. They gave curious glances to the two new members, but decided not to say anything about it at the moment.

Within moments food and tea were being prepared. Fjord asked to help with the cooking but was promptly shut down by Cornelius.

"Look at you all! It looks as if you have been through hell and back! Rest. We will take care of it," he said.

The food was delicious. Reminiscent of Caduceus' cooking from that one night in the Xhorhous. He smiled fondly at the memory. Essek's eyes drifted to each member of the Mighty Nein. How did this even happen?

His thoughts spiraled into an assortment of memories. Cold and alone in his study. Ambition gnawing at him as he struggles to progress in his research. Greed and selfish desire as he traded away his country's livelihood for knowledge. Fear as a bloodied human holds up one of the beacons he stole. Rage at the thought that his so very carefully planned espionage would be ruined by a bunch of sell-swords.

When had this ragtag group worn down his walls? Was it Jester's hugs? Or her consistently chaotic messages? Was it Yasha in her soft silence, or was it Beau in her harsh way of loving? Maybe Caduceus, with his gentle reassuring gestures. Or Veth, with her tough but kind way of showing care. Maybe it was Caleb. A mind that matches so perfectly to his own it was almost unsettling. Intellect sharp and piercing, with a gaze so intense he could melt under its warmth.

Essek found his eyes laid on Caleb. The strands of copper red hair falling partially over his eyes. A small part of him resists the urge to reach across the table and push the strands away. He studied his features, as if he hadn't already memorized them. The sharp curve of his jawline, his slightly tussled beard. Eyes so blue it almost felt like looking into the daytime sky. His mouth curved into a soft smile as he talked to Beauregard next to him. Essek lingered on that sight. The stress of these past weeks washed away as he focused on Caleb's smile. Then Caleb's eyes met his. Electricity jolted through him as the spark of whatever it was between them burned. Essek quickly looked away, a slight warmth building in his cheeks. He thanked the Luxon for drow skin coloration.

After food was had, the group gushed over their old (new..?) Friend. Poor man was probably so overwhelmed by the attention. Mollymauk - as Jester had told him - didn't say much at all in response to the Mighty Nein's questions.

"Empty… empty…" he trailed off.

As happy as they all were, exhaustion took over their senses. They were due for a much needed rest. Caleb did not have enough energy left to create the tower (Essek had quite a bit of thoughts he still needed to unpack about that place), so the group decided to sleep in the grove. Yasha lay with Beau snuggled up against her. They hugged and muttered sweet nothings to each other in low whispers. Molly was not too far from Yasha, and was quickly taken by peaceful sleep. Jester lay partially on Fjord's chest, talking about some new prank she wanted to try on her newly reunited parents. Caduceus lay back against the wall and was already passed out - his snore a rather loud one. Caleb lay next to veth, who was already out cold.

There wasn't really a need to be so close - they weren't in the confinements of the dome. And yet, they choose to drift near each other. Comfortable in the proximity. Essek felt very out of place. In the nights prior he could always stay a fair distance away from the cuddle pile, for the sake of keeping watch. But now, with the group all clumped together in the mass of life that was the blooming grove, Essek didn't know quite where to go. He fidgeted in his space as he debated where to trance. He can't go too far, but he definitely can't intrude on this intimate bond they all share. Eventually, Essek sits down a few feet from Caleb. He always seemed to gravitate towards him. Perhaps it was the similarities between them that made Essek feel safer in his presence.

Essek starts to begin his trance, and it is only then that the weight of the day's events crash onto him. The horrors of Cognoza will never truly leave his mind, but it is nothing compared to the absolute terror he felt when they were in that final fight.

The watch of one of the Somnovem caught him early on. The guilt of his actions surged into him tenfold. The lives he took, the families he'd broken, all for the sake of his selfish thirst for knowledge. It was all his fault.

He didn't catch sight of the tower hurled at him until it was too late. Caleb grunted as the weight of the rock (..flesh? It was very confusing) trapped him beneath it. Essek felt a surge of fear as he pictured the worst. He quickly scrambled over to where Caleb laid and desperately tried to pull him out. To no avail, it would seem. Those of his craft were not quite suited for these feats. Essek summoned the bead of possibility he had placed in himself beforehand. With a surprising surge of strength, he got Caleb to his feet.

In a rush of adrenalin,Caleb pulled him close and touched their foreheads together. If this was a different circumstance, Essek would be soaring. A small part of him completely forgot about the raging battle around them. That part focused on the presence of the man next to him. The wood burning autumn scent now mixed with the iron-y tinge of blood. That part of him noticed how close they were. Faces mere inches apart. Essek felt his heart jump into his throat. Then Caleb pulls back, the moment ending as quick as it began.

The ferver gained from this interaction was short-lived as Jester fell. Her bloody and broken corse strewn to the side carelessly. It was then that things started to go so very wrong. Jester was back thanks to Caduceus, mere seconds after she fell, but Esseks attention immediately went elsewhere. Caleb clutched at his torso with a grunt of pain as he fell, unconsciousness taking his form. Essek didn't even know he was capable of the rage that followed. He screamed and tore the very fabric of gravity itself around Lucien.

Then the battle field changed. It was no longer the fleshy horror of a city, but now a calming forest surrounding him. He looked forward to see the Mighty Nein - happy and smiling - with a hand outstretched towards him. It was Caleb. Caleb was calling him over to join them. Excitement burbled into him as he rushed towards the sight. It was only when he reached his destination he realized he had made a grave mistake.

The image of Caleb's torn and sundered body is one that will never leave Essek's mind. The sound it made as his lifeless corpse fell to the ground. The look he gave as the light left his eyes. It haunts him. The amount of terror, rage, pain and guilt he felt in that moment was immesruable. The world faded around him. Only being able to see the bloody shell of what once burned so bright. He fell to his knees, not hearing the final cries of battle around him. Essek's hands shook with emotion as he reached out to grab one of Caleb's. Those bright blue eyes he once knew were replaced by the vacuous expanse of emptiness and cold. He didnt hear the clerics rushing over and saying their prayers. He didn't hear the rest of the group trying to stifle their tears. He only stared into those eyes. Essek didn't breathe until Caleb inhaled once more.

Thoughts swirled around his head like an ocean of violent emotion. He can't trance like this. Essek stood up - trying his best to not wake his sleeping friends - and walked outside.

The calming reverie of the grove helped clear his mind a bit from these nightmares. He wandered around the exapanse, his hand tracing the occasional gravestone as he went. Eventually he came to the edge of the perimeter. Tall crystalline tree-like growths sprouted forth infront of him. Glowing ever so faintly. It was beautiful, the garden around him. So Essek sat and let himself soak up the tranquility of the nature around him.

It wasn't until he heard the rustle of footsteps that he opened his eyes.

"Its a bit late to be wandering the grove by yourself," Caleb noted, taking a seat next to Essek.

"Just… needed to clear my mind a bit." He replied.

"Ja, I get it. That was… a lot." Caleb laughed softly, a small smile playing on his lips. Essek found himself enraptured in the sound.

Caleb looked down, his brow furrowing ever so slightly as if deep in thought. He turned to look at Essek with a burning intensity. "Thank you, Essek."

Essek was taken aback by this. "For what?"

"You didn't have to come with us. You didn't have to risk your life just because I asked. And yet, you came anyway. Thank you." Caleb spoke softly. Appreciative.

Essek's mind whirred with thoughts. He didn't know how to respond. "I…" he trailed off. "Of course I.." Of course I had to come. You asked me to. I would do anything you asked. He didn't say. Instead, settling upon, "Of course I came. I care for you all more than any Dynasty or Empire. And I owe you this much."

Caleb shifted a bit at that. His hands fidgeted for a moment as he looked away. He moved his hand to touch Essek's. The touch was minimal. Almost unoticable to anyone but himself. Essek nearly jumped at the contact. A familiar tingling setting into his stomach.

Caleb's hand slowly grabbed Essek's, calloused fingers meeting smooth ones. Essek tried to map every detail. Every little feeling of the other man's hand in his. Entirely focused on the heat covering his skin.

"What do you plan to do after this?" Caleb inquired.

That startled Essek out of his reverie. "I.. I honestly do not know." He mumbled out. He couldn't go back to the dynasty, not with his situation like this. Could he go back to the outpost? Would that be safer? He was still responsible for people up there. He hadn't noticed himself squeezing Caleb's hand. At least, until Caleb squeezed back.

"What about you?" Essek asked, trying to shift the focus. "What do you plan on doing now?"

Caleb pondered for a moment, before responding with "There is still a few issues I need to take care of. I still have to help fix my home. Remove a cancer before it can spread."

Then, silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, per say, but something hung in the air. After a few moment in this quiet, Caleb turned and placed Essek under the intensity of his gaze. Those blue eyes bore into him with such a warmth. And Essek craved it. He craved to feel those eyes wash over him. He needed to see those eyes, alive and burning with a fiery passion.

The immense gravity of what he almost lost crushes him. The man sitting next to him, tenitivly holding his hand, died. If things hadn't worked out so well, if something different happened, he wouldnt have Caleb here next to him. That thought broke him. His eyes dropped down to look at the ground. Apperently he wasnt doing a very good job at hiding his emotions at the moment, because Caleb's face fell. He frowned and scooted closer to cup Essek's cheek.

"What's wrong, Shaltz?" Caleb asks tenderly. His thumb rubbing Essek's Cheekbone.

Essek looked up at him, and put his other hand on Caleb's as if to confirm that he was really here. "You… died Caleb… you died and I couldn't do anything. What if Caduceus and Jester didn't get there so quickly? What if something went wrong? What if-"

"I'm here. I'm ok. Everything is ok." Caleb cut him off. His voice gentle and soothing.

It was only then that Essek met his gaze. Caleb smiled softly, and Essek realized how close they were. Caleb's breath ghosting over Essek's lips. Essek forgot how to breathe. He could only focus on the feeling of Caleb so close to him. So close and yet not close enough. If he could just close the few inches… It took every ounce of self control that Essek had to steady himself. His pounding heart, the swarm of butterflies in his stomach. He knew he was staring. How could he not? Small freckles speckled across Caleb's face, framed by vibrant red hair.

The hand placed on Essek's cheek moved to the back of his neck, and Essek froze. Caleb painstakingly leaned in. So slow, so excruciatingly slow. As if to give Essek time to back away. To leave. But he didn't. And their lips met. The kiss was so soft, almost featherlight, and Essek's mind went blank. He could only focus on the sensation of Caleb's lips on his, how they were chapped and warm and perfect.

Caleb pulled back, a breaths distance between them. In all of his study of time, all Essek wanted to do now was stop it on that moment. It was over far too soon. Just the smallest brush of lips. He wanted it to last longer. He wanted more.

Essek leaned back in, crashing their lips together. This time the kiss was more desperate. As if scared that the other would pull away. Essek relished in the feeling. The heat of the man so close to him spreading to every inch of his body. Their lips fit together perfectly. Moving together and pressing into eachother. Essek moved his hand to Caleb's head. His fingers combing through the strands of coppery red. It was perfect. He wanted to remember every little sensation. He wanted to chart every little movement. His heart was beating so hard in his chest. He wants this to last forever.

They separate after what feels like a lifetime to catch their breath. Caleb's mouth is still parted as he gasps for breath. Essek savors the taste of Caleb on his lips as his breathing begins to steady. Part of him wants to reach out. To take Caleb's mouth once more. But Caleb speaks before this is possible.

"That was…."

He doesn't need to complete the sentence. Essek already knew.

And they gravitated towards each-other once more.

#critical role #cr essek #caleb widogast #shadowgast #essek theyless #caleb x essek #This is my first CR fic pls don't judge #I just wanted the wizards to kiss #Almost canon compliant #don't forget to love each other

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valhallanrose · 3 years

Text

Dancing Queen

A reflection on past birthdays and a glimpse at the present.

Happy birthday to my firstborn.

2.3k. Cautionary CW for discussions of food.

Fic title: Dancing Queen by ABBA.

The first birthday that Zelda remembered actually wasn’t her own, but Tamryn’s. It was his twelfth, though only the third time he’d actually celebrated on February twenty-ninth and not on March first. She was four then, giggling madly as she smashed a piece of the cake into his face - a tradition in Nevivon and something their parents had encouraged - and licking buttercream frosting off her fingers until Galen lifted her up to the kitchen sink to actually wash her hands.

Tamryn got her back two months later, on her fifth birthday, though he was far more gentle than she had been about it. Maybe it was because she’d been completely zoned out chewing on one of the sugar flowers that had adorned her cake, but she distinctly remembered assessing the mouth feel of one of them before a hand on the back of her head tipped her face straight into the slice of cake Evalina had just set in front of her.

Birthdays were typically small affairs in the Olenev household. It was time to simply be together, take joy in another year spent living life to the fullest and with each other. The only exception Zelda could think of was her bat mitzvah, all those years ago, and Tamryn’s own bar mitzvah, though she certainly remembered her own better than his.

They always got to pick a special breakfast a few days before the actual birthday. Zelda chose the same thing every year without fail: chocolate-stuffed syrniki and strawberries. There was never another time of year that particular combination was eaten, only on her birthday, which made it feel all the more special to her no matter how old she got.

Some birthdays had been...less than happy. Her sixteenth, the first birthday alone, the wound of her father’s death still raw on her heart. Or her twenty-fifth, which she had entirely forgotten until the following week, elbows deep in work at the Lazaret. Not that she’d celebrated at all during the plague, it never felt like a worthwhile occasion.

She remembered on her twenty-sixth birthday, the first she acknowledged after the end of the plague, wishing quietly that there’d be no more sad birthdays. She wanted those happy times back - those happy times of just being five years old in Nevivon and feeling sugar flowers melt on her tongue and getting her face shoved into a birthday cake just when she thought it was safe.

And then Tamryn had found her later that year.

Twenty-six had been a new beginning for them both. Twenty-seven had been the first birthday of hers they celebrated together since she was fifteen - a little awkward at first, but they found their way, finding a cute little restaurant on the waterfront and Zelda nearly punching Tamryn over the set of diaries he’d found in an antique shop that had belong to an apothecary long before.

For her twenty-eighth, Tamryn had given her an experience - a theater company from Prakra had made a temporary stop in Vesuvia to host a performance of The Tempest for the Countess on their way to Venterre, borrowing the theater in the Heart District closest to the palace. The short period they were in town fell over her birthday, and Tamryn had not only gotten her tickets, but got them tickets for one of the private boxes rather than the general audience. It had been a delight, and an experience she treasured dearly.

She’d asked Tam once, a few weeks after that birthday, why he did so much for her (not that she was ungrateful) - and he’d simply smiled, kissing her forehead and telling her that he had ten years of birthdays he wanted to make up for. She’d assured him he didn’t need to do that, but he waved her off, pointing out that he was an adult and that if he wanted to do nice things for his family, he would.

The twenty-second of April came again, this time her twenty-ninth birthday, and Zelda stirred when the mid morning sunlight beamed across her face and warmed her skin. A heavy weight pressed against her back as she began to roll over, making her snort as she assessed the limited amount of space between her and the other side of the bed.

“Bed hog.”

Oberon lifted his head, some of her hair threaded between his antlers, and gave her an incredulous look that made her laugh.

“Yes, you, a bed hog. Brat. Come here, give me your head.” She shifted enough to sit up, carefully brushing her hair away from where it had tangled with the new growths forming, each only a few inches tall by then. “How are your nubbins doing?”

Do not call them my nubbins.

“Fine, oh mighty forest prince, how doth your crown fare -” Zelda laughed as Oberon shoved his face into her chest indignantly, the stag sighing dramatically before he laid his head in her lap. She carefully inspected the velvet, idly scratching behind his ears all the while as he patiently waited for her assessment. “They do look good, Obie. You had a beautiful eight point set last year, I’ll bet on the same or more this year.”

She’d kept his last shed, actually. They were currently mounted on the wall in her shop, those pretty eight points acting as hooks for the herbs and plants she was in the process of drying out.

Zelda smiled as she began to scratch around the base of one of his antlers, his hind leg thumping against the mattress and his head pushing into her hand as he snuffled contentedly. There were a few long beats of quiet before his voice filtered through her mind again and drew her eyes down to his, all big and brown and soulful.

Zelda?

“Yeah?”

Happy birthday.

She beamed at that, lifting his head in both hands and pressing kisses to his fuzzy cheek, even when he complained about ‘smelling her morning breath’ but made no move to get away.

“Thank you, Obie. What do you say to breakfast?” Zelda glanced out the window, smiling at the cloudless blue sky and the bright golden sun. “Tam spent the night last night. I’m thinking me, you, him, and Magnus out in the back garden after I whip something up.”

Oberon nodded slightly, shifting to drag himself out of her bed - quite literally, as he put his front hooves on the floor and shuffled forward until his hind legs hit the hardwood. Zelda shook her head at him and flipped back the covers, combing her fingers through her hair and shoving her feet in her slippers before she made her way down the hall to the kitchen.

She knew she’d slept in, but she was surprised to see Tamryn already awake, standing at the stove with Magnus perched on his shoulder and preening his bedhead.

“You, not waiting to mooch off my breakfast? Hell must have frozen over.” Zelda teased, and Tamryn rolled his eyes, tipping his head back and giving her a cheeky grin.

“I could say the same thing about you sleeping in.”

“It’s the weekend, Tamryn, I’m not a masochist.”

“Well, not just a weekend.” Tamryn shifted, lifting his left arm to gesture for Zelda to come closer. She gladly accepted the embrace, burying her face in the soft wool of his sweater as he gave her a tight squeeze. “Happy birthday, shithead.”

She swatted at him as he laughed, turning away from her to slip the spatula under the pancake when Magnus chirped and set it carefully on the serving plate to his right.

Zelda’s brows drew together as she let her eyes wander over the ingredients, then the pancakes themselves, the realization dawning the longer she looked over it all. “Tam...are you making -”

“Mama’s syrniki recipe, yeah. I can’t promise it’ll be perfect, you and I both know she would follow her heart tweaking things and I only have the recipe cards you helped me braille, but I realized I have now been here for three birthdays and not even attempted making it.” He waved the spatula idly in the air and blew a few strands of hair out of his face before he continued. “Hopefully I wasn’t too presumptuous, but you and I both have the same opinions about chocolate and I felt optimistic.”

Zelda laughed, shaking her head as she found the chocolate in question and broke a piece off for herself.

“No, not presumptuous at all.” She popped the piece into her mouth before she began to move about the kitchen, pulling together parts of Oberon’s own breakfast with the deer hot on her heels. “I’m looking forward to it. I don’t think I’ve ever made them myself, so this’ll be the first time I’ve had them in years. Tea or coffee?”

“Coffee, get the hell out of here with your fancy leaf water.”

“If tea is leaf water, then coffee is just bean water, stupid.”

“Maybe, but if I wanted to drink leaf water I’d just go drink from a puddle.”

Zelda flipped him off, and when Magnus squawked loudly, Tam returned the gesture, snickering to himself under his breath as he worked his way through the last few syrniki.

* * * * *

Eventually, when they made their way out to the small back garden and crammed the plates onto the wrought iron patio table, chatting as Magnus settled on the back of one of the empty chairs and Oberon found his favorite spot - easily noted by the way the grass was permanently flattened at the base of the crabapple tree in the corner of the garden. They both were animated in conversation, Zelda only pausing to take the first bite of her syrniki and losing her train of thought.

They weren’t Evalina’s, but they were still delicious, the chocolate warm on her tongue and the strawberries perfectly between sweet and tangy - it was enough to make her throat feel a little tight after she swallowed.

“Good?” Tamryn asked after a moment, and Zelda laughed, nodding as she spoke.

“They are. They’re not mom’s, but they don’t need to be. They’re perfect.” She reached out and laid a hand on his wrist, squeezing it lightly. “Thank you, Tam. Really.”

“You’re welcome.” Tam shoved strawberry in his mouth before he reached into the pocket of his sweatpants with his other hand, turning Zelda’s palm over and smacking a slim, flat box into her hand. “Your gift, by the way, before I set it down and forget where I put it. I already did once, I made the bed and lost it in the sheets. Damn near shit myself.”

Zelda snickered softly, gently tugging away the crisp white ribbon and carefully cracking open the box, the lid opening on a hinge that revealed the jewelry inside.

The necklace was simple - only a single pendant, the six-pointed star a little bigger than the pad of her thumb and strung on a delicate golden chain. Her breath caught as she lifted the star on one of her fingers, watching the morning light gleam on its polished surface. If her throat had felt thick before, she felt like she was trying to swallow a rock now, eyes burning with the tears that welled up.

“You said you lost yours years ago.” Tamryn said gently. “I know you loved it, and you never took it off when we were kids…”

“You’re going to make me cry on my birthday.” Zelda sniffed, and Tamryn laughed, reaching out to pat her arm.

“Don’t, because then you’ll make me cry, and then we’ll both look ugly when we go out later.” He smiled when Zelda snorted at that, swiping a rogue tear away before it could slip down her cheek. “Do you want help putting it on?”

“I’m sure it’ll look ridiculous with my pajamas, but that’s not going to stop me. Yes, please.”

The clasp would come together neatly at the base of Zelda’s neck - simple, but secure - and the pendant fell just below her collarbone, making her smile and touch her fingertips to it once she released her hair from where she’d moved it out of Tamryn’s way. He draped his arms lazily around her shoulders, chin propped on her head, rather than returning to his own seat across from her at the table.

“If the chain is too short, I can take it back to the jeweler and ask them to add some length to it.”

“No, Tam, it’s lovely. Thank you so much.” She laid her hands over his and gave them a squeeze, smiling as he squeezed them back before he straightened up.

“I’m glad you like it.” Quickly, he snatched a strawberry off her plate, snickering to himself as he made his way back around to his seat despite her protests at the theft of fruit. “Now shut up and eat your breakfast.”

“Ass.” Zelda reached out and stole one of the blackberries left on his own plate, munching happily on it and smacking his hand away when he tried to steal another strawberry off her plate. “Go away, you have your own fruit.”

“You won’t even share with your beloved older brother?”

“Just because I’ve been stuck with you since birth doesn’t mean I like you, you know.”

“Joke’s on you, bitch, that goes both ways.”

With a laugh, Zelda finally dug back into her syrniki, banter and conversation mixing and flowing between them easily as they talked about anything and everything that came to mind. The sun continued to move overhead, warming their faces long after their plates were cleared and their cups were empty.

She didn’t need to know how the rest of the day was going to go - in her book, it was already a pretty damn great birthday.

#zelda hollyheart #tamryn olenev #happy birthday zelda

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atinykidult · 4 years

Text

TMW #1—SVT Performance Unit

[angst] [3122 words] — 500-1000 word scenarios, Trainee!au, specific tags with each part, x reader

[a/n] — To supplement my growth as a writer, and to hopefully post more often, I’m going to start this TMW series. In it, I just want to explore different aus/emotions/styles in very short but hopefully still impactful blurbs. Thank you for reading!

[taglist] — @yunwoo @woozisnoots @multifanhere (Thank you for supporting me! It means the world!)

— K W O N S O O N Y O U N G

[established relationship] [trainee!reader] [tw for trainee contracts being horrible]

Heartache is saying goodbye for a very long time, even though I’ll see you tomorrow.

He lets out a watery okay.

You bite your lip and nod.

“We’ll give you a few minutes, then please return to your training rooms.”

“I understand,” he says.

“Yes.”

The door clicks shut, and you both look at each other.

His eyes are bright with tears; yours are, too.

You let out a tired yet almost humored snort. Watery eyes, tired hearts. It’s ironic. This is how you and Soonyoung got together in the first place.

You were a good thing, and you were incredibly good for each other.

After all, trainee life is hard. And the closer to debut, the further away you get from any non-idol humans.

And to be at a company with two groups nearing that fabled debut?

Your shared manager’s exhausted admission sums it up: “This is my fault. The company’s, really. We should have expected two overworked trainees to find comfort in each other.”

Soonyoung wetly clears his throat. “I—I am so, so sorry. I…”

You shake your head. “Don’t be.”

He meets your eyes, expression fiercely argumentative.

“We both knew what we were doing.”

His shoulders, usually shaking in laughter or holding themselves strong for choreography, are hunched over. For being the cause for that, you hate yourself.

“‘We both knew what we were doing,’” he murmurs. “I… I guess we did.”

More than viciously heartbroken, you just feel bone tired. Even now, you wish you could lean against Soonyoung and feel him lean against you in return. You’d spent many hours that way, silent in your mutual understanding.

Now there’s a table between you.

A contract laying between you.

No comfort, no soft touches—only two pens.

“We should sign.” You don’t raise your hand, despite your words. “Get it over with.”

You can’t feel your face.

Soonyoung’s lips are pressed so tightly together you wonder if they’ll bruise. Distantly, your insides curl when you recall the color they turn when they do.

“Right,” he agrees, not reaching for a pen either.

He tearfully stares at you, memorizing the way you stare back at him.

The thing that had attracted you to each other so powerfully?

Your sheer determination, mirrored in the other.

And also...

Your shared dream to debut.

A tear falls down his cheeks, and you can’t help yourself when you reach over and wipe them away with the pads of your thumbs.

Instead of whispered words of, we’ll get there, together, you can only offer him this:

“Keep working on that fluidity.” Your voice shakes a little. “You’ve been getting so much better.”

Your way of saying: I’ll miss you. I’ll watch your growth and be proud of you.

“You, too—with your locks.” He sounds like someone’s strangling him. “Even Jihoon was saying how much you’ve improved.”

His way of saying: I love you. I’ll watch you, too.

You both reach for your pens.

“See you after five thousand,” he says, hand hovering over the paper.

There’s a meteor in your throat, moving down and down. You shake your head wordlessly.

With your inability to reply, he signs his name.

You sign yours.

With the sound of your pen dropped to the table, the meteor meets your heart and pushes it down and down and down....

Trainees Kwon Soonyoung and Y/L/N Y/N shall not interact again until either of two conditions.

Condition A) The latter of the two reaches their group’s third anniversary.

Condition B) The event of both eventual groups acquiring 500k sales on a single album.

— W E N J U N H U I

[angst with lighthearted aspects] [could be “canon” setting] [childhood friends]

Heartache is saying goodbye and leaving things unsaid.

You and Junhui—childhood friends to best friends to something a little too tender to be platonic—well.

There’s the whole story, really.

No verb needs to be added.

As you stare at your phone, you huff out a chuckle.

You blame PMS when your eyes well up a little, scrolling through the many selcas Junhui has sent you. It warms your heart whenever he sends you them. Even though, or rather because, he has little phone time, it means the world that he sends you a quick selca every so often.

It also makes your pathetic heart scream a little.

Not from a stabbing pain, not a scream saying I’m on a 9/10 on the pain scale, SOS!

A scream more like I feel a little helpless to my pain, and it aches dammit, and I should have just told him I loved him.

As one of your alarms goes off, you scream into your elbow.

Back to the books.

Heartache masks itself under warm memories and whispers of comfort.

Junhui, for all his loudness and talking much too fast, knows his heart. He understands what he feels, most of the time, and he knows what he wants.

He wants to debut with the other trainees in the Seventeen Project.

Right now, he wants to eat a delicious supper. Then he wants to sleep until he wakes up naturally.

Then, he wants a three day vacation so he can go home and reminisce childhood schoolyard games with a certain best friend. And maybe say those particular words...

Well, that’s not a want.

It’s a wish.

And while his stomach flutters at the thought of it, the reality of the ache in his muscles pulls his attention away from the pleasant fantasy of those wishes.

For now, it’s time to focus on wants and learning new choreography.

But maybe, in ten years, maybe….

Maybe then, it’ll be time to think about wishes.

The day Junhui left your hometown, you saw him off. Although you couldn’t see him to the plane itself, you shared breakfast with him and spent every minute together until his family left in their car.

At one point, he and you were sitting on his bed, staring at an unnaturally clean room.

“You know… I bet you’d pass the audition if you tried,” he joked, not for the first time.

“Haha. And I would enjoy trainee life just as much as you enjoy schoolwork.”

Both of you smiled with your eyes.

“But you’d enjoy it because you’d see me every day!”

“And you could enjoy my schoolwork just as much seeing me everyday!”

A pause, then a much too honest: “That would make the school work worth it.”

If you were brave, you would have asked him something like: Are you trying to say something? Please tell me you’re trying to say something.

You weren’t brave.

“Then why are you leaving me all alone?! Huh?! To suffer all by myself?! Do you know how many credits I’m taking?”

“And you’re leaving me to a bunch of foreigners!! So what about that?!”

“I’m not the one leaving!”

Insert spluttering.

And laughter.

So much obnoxious laughter.

It was a good last day together.

It was a warm goodbye.

But, want to know something that sometimes makes your heart scream a little?

Wondering if you could have made that last day even better if you had been brave.

— X U M I N G H A O

[one-sided pining] [TW for slight age difference/feelings for an authority figure][favorite of this set]

Heartache is falling for someone untouchable.

First of all, don’t point any fingers at him.

Having the vocal instructor be a beautiful, attractive, and young person? Who compliments trainees in their native tongue? And sits with them at lunch?

It’s like the higher ups are trying to weed out the trainees via dating clause.

Second of all, and corollary of the first point: Minghao’s not the only one.

“Our teacher’s the best!” Junhui crows in his ear, Mandarin a little too breathless.

Minghao lets out a little grunt in response.

“I didn’t know our teacher could dance, too!”

“Seonsaengnim is very talented,” one of the Korean trainees says to Minghao, ignorant to Jun’s words.

Minghao wills his cheeks to not show anything.

“Really!” someone else says.

He groans at his thumping heart.

Third of all, it’s not like the feelings will last.

Shortly after the dancing display, Seonsaengnim sits with Minghao, Junhui, and a few other trainees at lunch. Here, Minghao learns something very important about their young instructor.

“Yeah, I was a trainee just like you three!” you say, hoping this conversation doesn’t take a poor turn. “Honestly, I think it was only a little over a year ago.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you end up a teacher here?” Jihoon doesn’t mention any of the trainees’ popular assumptions in his question.

Seonsaengnim must not have been as good as everyone else.

Maybe all the other trainees were more beautiful.

Honestly, I bet that’s it.

Minghao doesn’t quite know it for sure, but he knows that Jihoon, like himself, worries that he won’t debut because of his visuals. Korean entertainment… just isn’t fair.

“Korean entertainment goes through its phases.” It’s like you read his thoughts. Minghao can tell you’re sifting through your thoughts very carefully, choosing your words not unlike the way he often does. Trying to find the words. The right way to articulate best intentions. “For me, I was good enough that even though I couldn’t debut, the company thought I was worth keeping around. That was honestly very…” He's fascinated by the way your tongue peaks out to wet your lips. “Very complimentary. Of them, to me. I’m thankful.”

“Do you think you could debut in the future?” someone asks, stupidly.

“No.” Minghao is surprised to see your lips begin to smile so sincerely. “But I’m looking forward to helping you all debut.”

There’s no bitterness in your tone.

Something in him stirs fiercely. He wishes he could have that surety.

When you smile warmly at him, tilting your head as you study his expression, the buzz that courses through him is surely the way Soonyoung would feel if he ever met Taemin. Surely.

It’s admiration, that’s all it is.

Fourth of all, it was inevitable, really.

“Minghao, can we talk for a minute?”

He nearly jumps at the Mandarin.

There’s rage sitting in his stomach right now—at the company, at the guest instructor, at the mistakes he made today, at his own pathetic face.

Minghao just wants to disappear for a while.

But he can’t say no. Doesn’t want to, to this one staff member.

“Of course.”

You sit next to him, back to the studio’s mirror.

“I know today was hard, but you’ve been doing better the last four practices in a row. That’s incredible. Remember… Every time you’re not going to improve visibly. That would be impossible.”

“Thanks.”

“And that instructor is a piss poor excuse for a—oh, sorry. I shouldn’t be teaching you those kinds of words—”

“Seonsaengnim, I won’t be telling anyone on you.” He can feel the corners of his lips twitching up, despite himself.

“Just… Know you’re already working hard enough. You don’t need to be… ‘working double because you don’t have the visuals.’” You run an aggressive hand through your hair and let out a righteously indignant noise. “Just… You’re so talented, and I honestly think you look perfectly attractive. So… Just… Ugh. Know that you’re unofficially my favorite. And I hope today doesn’t stick with you. Damn, that was a horrible instructor...”

Minghao can’t help but flush at the praise, and how intimate it feels for you to be here. Sitting with him. Rambling to him so that he’ll feel better.

This talk will stick with him.

But only for the best reasons.

You take his hand; squeeze it once reassuringly.

“You’re going really far. Remember that.”

He meets your eyes, heartbeat galloping.

It was inevitable.

Fifth of all, it’s not like he’ll ever say anything.

“Today’s my last day with you! I’m so proud of you all for making it this far.”

It’s not like he’ll ever have the chance.

“Thank you for everything, Seongsaengnim!”

“Yes, thank you!”

“You were our best teacher!”

Minghao freezes.

It feels like someone took all the warmth he had felt from that talk, and drained it from him. And decided that, you know what? For the hell of it, let’s just dump some ice cubes in there. Like rubbing salt in a wound, but emotionally.

The practice passes as quickly as clouds on a windy day.

Then, suddenly, you’re hugging everyone goodbye.

Then, suddenly, you’re fondly ushering the last of the trainees through the door.

Then, suddenly, you’re brushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

“Minghao, you’ve made it to the debut lineup. I’m so proud of you.”

You say more, but his mind is empty except for the panic settling in.

He’ll never get to say anything.

He grabs your wrist.

“Seonsaengnim, you can’t be leaving.”

A surprised frown. “I can’t?”

I need you to stay with me throughout my career.

I need you to keep watching me improve, with that proud look in your eye.

I need—

Minghao can’t find any Korean to answer with, leaving him nearly in tears.

He feels hysterical.

And you hug him.

And the tears fall.

“I’ll miss you too, Minghao.”

I love you.

So I need you to stay.

“I’ll be watching the headlines for your name, and when I see it, I’ll be telling my new trainees, ‘He was my favorite!’” A pure, bright grin against his sweaty hair. “You’ve made it, Hao! You don’t need to be crying over me.”

That’s not the words that will make me feel better.

“I—I—”

Minghao knows the three Korean syllables.

But it’s not like he’ll ever say them.

— L E E C H A N

[angst] [exes]

Heartache is pouring out my regrets out on stage, knowing you’ll never see it.

Chan doesn’t know why he’s feeling this way, this minute, this song.

But he is.

It’s trainee evaluation day; his focus should be unwavering.

Yet, as he takes his spot with the other three trainees, he feels that familiar wave of regret bowl his heart over.

His memories of you flash through his head as he lowers it, waiting for the music to play.

Those memories are bowling pins in his mind, one toppling into another and that pin into another—

And Chan, being who he is, aims for a strike every single time.

“It’s alright you cancelled today—I know being a trainee leaves you no time.”

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

The first one always falls, and then the next.

“I understand. It’ll be worth it when you make it to the big stage.”

“Only if you’re in the front row.”

“Talk soon.”

The second pin rushes into the third.

“I have to go in a minute. But you were trying to tell me?”

“It’s… no, it’s nothing, babe. Dance good. And… maybe—call me soon?”

“I promise I’ll call right after.”

And the next ones always fall much faster.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call last night. We were all so exhausted, and I just couldn’t deal with y—”

He stops himself in time, but the damage is done.

“You just couldn’t deal with me? Well, you know what, Lee Chan. Maybe right now I can’t deal with you.”

And then they all fall indiscriminately, until the last few are teetering, wobbling...

The music plays, and muscle memory sweeps Chan’s body away into the choreography.

“No, Chan, you don’t need to apologize. I understand exactly how we stand. I really do believe you, don’t worry about that. You like me, but not as much as yourself! And your ‘dreams.’ I understand completely.” Your voice is a both a cry and a hiss by now. “You’re really selfish sometimes, you know that?”

...And the last one falls.

“Chan, your lyrics are really... “

“Are they that bad?”

“No—not bad… Just, well… Heavy. For someone your age.”

“It’s a heavy topic, hyung.”

“True.”

“So, can we use them for the evaluation?”

“No. They’ll be wanting something lighthearted for that. But…”

“But.”

“I’ll hold onto these, if you don’t mind. We can use them on an album someday.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“No, really! They’re good lyrics.”

“No, uh… That wasn’t what I meant! It’s just…”

“Are they too personal? You don’t want them in the world?”

“Sort of.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s decided then. We won’t use them.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

“What, you’re leaving? Don’t you at least want these back, if they’re so personal?”

“...No, that’s alright. I… I—just, can you keep them for me? I don’t want them again. Ever.”

“Hey, I—”

“Please.”

“You wrote ‘I’m sorry,’ nineteen times. Not to pull the responsible hyung card on you, but I feel like this isn’t something you can… keep away from yourself. For forever.”

“I know. I’m working on it.”

“Okay then.”

“Thanks for everything, hyung.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll just go now.”

“Okay…. Uh… Actually, Chan?”

“What?”

“Just remember that, even if… Even because you’ve messed up before... Just know that doesn’t mean you’re that person for forever. I don’t know if you can make up for whatever happened. But you’re not… ‘stuck on this tear-stained road, for ever. You’re a good kid.”

“Are you going after sappy hyung role, now?”

“You can talk to us if you’re not feeling okay.”

“Thank you, hyung. I’ll get out of your hair now.”

“Chan!”

The song ends. The dance resolves with a final swoop of the arm. And Chan’s heart hurts a little.

“That was really good,” someone whispers.

“For real, I got chills.”

“Chan-ie, are you crying?” one of his hyungs asks. He touches his face; he is. “Are you okay?”

“I will be,” he feels himself reply.

Hey, Y/N. I’m sorry if this is the last thing you want to see. Hell, you might have me blocked, and honestly, a better me would hope you do. Anyways, I needed to get off my chest how sorry I am. I’m not going to try to explain myself. But I needed to try to let you know that I understand what I did was selfish. And that I shouldn’t have let us continue like that for so long….

Five years later, Chan will perform a solo at a concert.

Thematically, there’s a lot going on. And the lyrics say sorry a lot of times.

The fandom wonders what inspired the lyrics.

Chan doesn’t cry when he performs it.

The ending of the song isn’t happy, but it does resolve. The sad chord makes any listener feel a little bittersweet, though.

And, from the front row, one ticket remains unclaimed.

—T H A N K Y O U F O R R E A D I N G!

If any of these touched you in particular, please leave me an ask or rb! I really appreciate any feedback. Have a great day!!

#caratwritersclub #seventeen #svt #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst #seventeen x reader #the8 #minghao #svt jun #wen junhui #hoshi #kwon soonyoung #dino #lee chan #minghao imagines #jun imagines #hoshi imagines

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lalalizzy16fitness · 4 years

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Hello fellow humans!

Since the world seems to be in an imminent spiral towards a certain and fiery destruction, I thought it might be time to get back to something simple. Now either this is the crippling loneliness of an official quarantine talking, or perhaps a severe case of “cabin fever” that has been eating my brain since late March. I thought I would dedicate this one to my one true homie. The one who is still there for me every day no matter what fresh hell is knocking at our front doors. The one who tastes suspiciously good in any form.

I am speaking of course, of my ride or die, the orange.

Oranges are water-rich (I do not know the conversion rate of water to the American dollar. The term “rich” in this instance is up for interpretation)

One medium orange provides four ounces (or a half cup) of water. Roughly 60-70% of the human body is made of water, and it is required for every bodily process. Foods can provide 20% of your daily fluid needs, and water-rich foods like oranges contribute even more to the daily requirement. Consuming enough daily fluid helps support mental and physical energy, improve circulation, optimize organ function, flush out waste, and maximize metabolism.

Oranges provide gut- and health-protective fiber

A medium orange offers about three grams of fiber. The fiber in oranges supports digestive function, helps regulate blood sugar and insulin levels, boosts feelings of fullness, and can even contribute to healthy sleep. One study that tracked adults over five years found that for each 10-gram increase in soluble fiber consumed, the rate of visceral belly fat accumulation decreased by 3.7%, (for you mathematician’s out there, that a lot): Carrying more visceral fat is linked to increased inflammation and a greater risk of chronic diseases, including type 2 diabetes, high blood pressure, and some cancers.

Oranges have high vitamin C (C is for cookie)

One orange packs about 80% of the daily goal for vitamin C. In addition to supporting immune function, this key nutrient helps produce collagen, reduce inflammation, and boost the body's ability to use fat as a fuel source, both during exercise and at rest. Too little blood vitamin C has also been tied to increased body fat and waist measurements.

Vitamin C also helps boost the absorption of iron, which can enhance oxygen availability and reduce fatigue. This is especially important for premenopausal women who lose iron through menstruation, and those who follow a plant-based diet, since iron is less readily absorbed from plant sources. Vitamin C also acts as an aging-fighting antioxidant, and it is needed for DNA repair and serotonin production. The latter helps to promote happiness and sleep.

Oranges supply other key nutrients (That’s the fun part)

Potassium and folate are two additional vital nutrients found in oranges. Potassium supports heart function and muscle contractions, and it helps maintain muscle mass. This mineral also acts as a natural diuretic, to reduce blood pressure and counter fluid retention. Folate supports the brain and nervous system, and adequate amounts may help protect against depression and memory problems. Oranges also supply smaller amounts of calcium, magnesium, vitamin A, and B vitamins.

Oranges are antioxidant superstars

Antioxidants in oranges provide anti-inflammatory, antiviral, and antimicrobial benefits. They also defend against oxidative stress, which is essentially an imbalance between the production of cell-damaging free radicals and the body's ability to counter their harmful effects.

The antioxidants in oranges may also protect your mental health. A study published in the American Journal of Clinical Nutrition found that higher flavonoid intake may be associated with lower depression risk, particularly among older women. A higher flavonoid intake is also linked to the prevention of weight gain and reduced body fat.

Orange peels have health benefits, too (You can EAT the wrapper people!)

Health-protective nutrients are not only found in oranges and orange juice; they are also in the peel. Research shows that flavonoids in citrus peels may help prevent the reproduction, growth, and spread of cancer cells, as well as support apoptosis, the self-destruct sequence the body uses to kill off dysfunctional cells. If you consume citrus peel, opt for organic oranges to reduce exposure to pesticide residues. Use a grater to zest the outer skin, avoiding the more bitter white pith. Add orange zest to homemade salads dressings, or as a garnish for oatmeal, fruit salad, and avocado toast to cooked veggies, quinoa, stir fries, and desserts.

Orange juice also has health benefits (Give me your blood you delicious bitch)

While whole oranges are more filling and provide more fiber, juice can count as part of your daily fruit intake. Research on the consumption of citrus juice indicates important benefits. One study found that a higher intake of citrus juice was linked to improvements in cognitive function in older adults. Another found that flavanone-rich citrus juice in quantities commonly consumed can enhance blood flow to the brain in healthy, young adults.

Freshly squeeze your own juice, or look for 100% orange juice or a blend of orange and other whole fruits. Aim for a four-ounce or half cup portion, and think of juice as a serving of fruit or an ingredient rather than a beverage. Add pure orange juice to a stir-fry sauce, marinade, or soup. Use to make cocktails or mocktails, or freeze in an ice cube tray and add to water along with mint or ginger.

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warsofasoiaf · 4 years

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What is your opinion of KOTOR 2? Favorite things about it, least favorite things about it, characters, etc.

Alright, it’s time for another video game review, so an early reminder, spoilers abound for both KOTOR1 and KOTOR2. There’s a cut of course. Overall, I thought it was a phenomenally well-written game and one of the greatest pieces of media to exist in the Stars Wars universe (although I haven’t read any of the Expanded Universe books so keep that in mind), and as is the usual case for Obsidian particularly in this era, developer constraints created a beautiful mess.

Before we can talk about KOTOR we need to talk a little bit about Star Wars and what it meant as a film. The original Star Wars isn’t a very creative story, it’s largely a conventional Hero’s Journey. It’s a pastiche of early adventure stories in a science fiction setting, but with the added benefit of video and sound effects to really make it come to life in a way that was only possible in the imagination of readers. This gave the series a wide deal of appeal. Folks who grew up on the 1950′s Flash Gordon serials or WW2 dogfight films could see a film with those things they loved from their childhood with a high budget to bring those things to life. Science fiction fans could visually see elements of their favorite books brought to life on the silver screen. Fans of movies can appreciate the cutting-edge (for the time, although I love me some practical effects in film) effects and the unfamiliar elements of science fiction with the familiar trappings of an adventure tale.

KOTOR was something similar for the video game industry, particularly for the fans of Baldur’s Gate. The ability to create a Jedi character and go on a journey like the Bhaalspawn did in Baldur’s Gate was something that appealed to a significant number of RPG fans, and the critical success of the Baldur’s Gate series brought a lot of money and prestige to Bioware. Fans of RPGs and Star Wars got to see their medium and interact with it in a whole new light. Much like A New Hope, KOTOR1 was largely a traditional story where Darth Malak is an evil guy without much in the way of redemptive qualities. The two major wrinkles were that you could play as a Sith and have some moments of true player cruelty like ordering Zaalbar to kill Mission, but this makes sense for an RPG, having no player choice in a game really makes you lose the lightside/darkside dynamic. Of course, the bigger and more interesting drift from a traditional Star Wars story was the Revan twist. This took advantage of both the slower pace of games to spend time with your PC and form a connection, and the nature of Western RPG’s where the player envisions themselves partially as their avatar onscreen to make the reveal hit home. Ultimately though, the Star Wars morality was upheld. The Jedi were the unequivocal good guys, the Sith were the unequivocal bad guys.

KOTOR2 decided to put the Force under the microscope. It had started in 2003, so Episode II had already come out, and this idea of the prophecy of Anakin bringing balance to the Force, and what we knew of the Jedi in the original Star Wars trilogy who were reduced to hermits hiding on the fringes of society, really gave the impetus to examine this idea of the balance of the Force as not necessarily benevolent. It’s not evil, per say, it’s just indifferent to the people that die to make it happen. So the game became a self-critical examination of the core structures of the Star Wars universe. The Sith are usually thought of as the bad guys, and a lot of that holds true, domination, subjugation, power, betrayal, all that nasty stuff aren’t really conducive to most conceptions of goodness, but are the Jedi good? Does their passivity lead to injustice and terror being wrought on others because the Jedi failed to act. That was the question behind the Jedi involvement in the Mandalorian Wars, was the Exile correct in going off to fight them or were the Jedi Council who forbade them correct? As befits the folks who wrote Planescape: Torment, the game has two journeys, one through the game world and the plot that unfolds and another more deeply introspective.

I’ll put the things I don’t like about KOTOR2 first because the list is small but it is worth noting. The game is very clearly a rushed product and it shows. The cut content shows a great deal of lost potential, and the bugs could make the game at times completely unplayable. The game suffered from the accelerated development, having barely half the development time, and you can see where the seams show. The UI is clunky and gets cluttered when you have to manage items. Level design is similarly a nuisance, as they are big sprawling expanses without a lot of content in them. Part of that is a necessity to the mechanics, smaller levels would have other encounter designs being agro’d into it, but the levels are still expansive, empty, and a slog to get through. The Peragus mining facility is too large by half, and there’s a lot of backtracking in these levels. Since side quests encourage finding a doodad or killing a few key figures scattered around a map, that means a lot of trekking through these big levels to find one particular item or enemy locked in a corner somewhere. That can be very tedious, particularly on repeat playthroughs. At times, it feels like legging your way through a swamp to get to the next piece of delicious content.

Which is a good segue into talking what I like about the game, because its writing and characters are superb. The character companions are twists of classic Star Wars archetypes. Atton is the scoundrel Han Solo non-Force user type, but ends up having a disturbingly dark backstory where he was a Sith interrogator and feared his own Force-sensitive nature. Bao-Dur is a man haunted by the weapon of mass destruction he created, a tech-head who ends up hating his most momentous creation but feels the need to use it yet again. Canderous has become the new Mandalore and is desperately trying to revitalize his dying culture because he’s been so broken by Revan’s departure. The Wookie life-debt is so toxic that it breaks Hanharr and Mira in their own ways. Visas is a Sith whose will is shattered. Each of these characters are fundamentally broken (save for the droids, unless you count the physical need to reassemble HK-47 as broken), and the Exile draws them to him or her. Through discovering more about them and resolving it, the Exile awakens the characters’ connection to the Force, oddly ironic since the Exile is cut off from the Force and is only rediscovering it. Like most Bioware RPG’s, you the player through your character guide the growth of these characters and form a relationship with them, or use them for your own ends.

Kreia, of course, deserves her own paragraph. Kreia is the Star Wars Ravel Puzzlewell, an embittered woman who wants to destroy the cosmic chains of the universe and loves the player character in a deeply obsessive way, one that’s played completely straight in how it makes the player uncomfortable. She is deeply resentful of the Force and wants to destroy it, and through the Exile, who managed to cut themselves off so utterly completely in a unique way, she sees the path. Of course, the reason why the Exile cut themselves off was the mass death at Malachor V was so overwhelming that he or she would have otherwise died. Of course, her obsession and overriding mission cares little for the Exile’s own pain, and so the manipulations begin, using you to lure out and destroy the Jedi and the Sith, and in the end, you disappoint her, either because you don’t learn her lessons or she discovers that the only reason you were the way you were was because you were afraid. She still is obsessed over you, though, and so when you finally confront her, she obliges that affection to explain everything, unusually honest for a woman whose Sith name is evocative of the word betrayal. And fortunately, she allows something that most monologue villains don’t allow, a means by which to tell her she’s full of shit. Certainly, it’s a little weaker coming from her as an option to you rather than the player character saying it themselves, but I think it’s stronger, since so much of the ending had to be cut anyway it reinforces the ambiguity of it, that the ending is what you believe. Personal belief has always been important for the Exile and Kreia/Traya, and letting that transfer to the player is, while perhaps not the most ideal, completely valid given how rushed the development was.

The other Sith Lords are fascinating concepts of evil and personal belief as well as well, and really show the Dark Side of the force in a parasitic, corrupt sense and the horrible ends of taking belief to its extreme. Darth Sion is the Lord of Pain. He cannot die but he feels pain constantly, making eternal life not a blessing but a torture, though in it he found a twisted source of enlightenment. His pain fuels his anger and hatred (key ingredients of the Dark Side) and so he persists solely through the Dark Side. Darth Nihilus, on the other hand, had his body obliterated by the Mass Shadow Generator, and so persisted as a wound in the Force, consuming Force energy to feed his relentless hunger. He is not a human anymore but a force of endless consumption that cannot be satiated, this hunger pain pushes him past his own mortal existence but which can only consume, not live. This perfectly illustrates the Dark Side concept of pursuit of power even past the point of sustainability, for Nihilus will continue consuming until all existence has been eaten.

The game is dark and moody, as you explore a shattered galaxy. In the original game, the search led to the Star Forge and the revelation that you the player was Revan. The sequel shows that there was no grand conspiracy; the act of Malachor built Nihilus and Sion and the player themselves was something that you did. It was not a conspiracy of Jedi but rather the after-effects of a particular action, much the way Lonesome Road had the Courier’s delivery of the package to Hopeville to be something that destroyed Ulysses even though you never met him. The Mass Shadow Generator was meant to save the galaxy from the Mandalorians but birthed a new, more powerful tragedy. Bao-Dur even wonders if the subjugation of the people under the Mandalorians was better than the power of the Mass Shadow Generator, a powerful moment ordered by just a mere single Jedi, built by a mere tech specialist. In true Planescape fashion, a personal apocalypse is a galactic apocalypse and vice-versa. Torment lingers over this game, in the broken characters, in a parallel journey both outward and inward. In many ways KOTOR2 was Planescape: Torment in the Star Wars universe, albeit with its own personal flair.

Alright, that’s a good review. I can do character analyses of some of the major characters if you want.

Thanks for the question, Messanger.

#star wars #knights of the old republic 2 #video game reviews

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psychopersonified · 5 years

Text

Q Origin story - Series 2

An imaginary Q-centric Netflix series

Series 1 Pilot here.

In this second series, we see Q’s double life and how he juggles them. One as a civilian and the other in service with MI6 - his growth his setbacks; the dramas that follow and which of the two will have to give way.

To make Q’s backstory come to life and the events that happen to and around him seem more realistic, I’ve tried to include as much relevant details including the bureaucracy, politics and technology in MI6 (with a lot of artistic licence). The details all play a role in growing plot and telling of the narrative, I promise.

This is meant to be a plot summary, not a full blown fic. Feel free to furnish with your own details.

———

Episode 1

We see him older now but still in university on the verge of getting his second PhD and third masters (about 28-ish). The last several years, he’s been working part time at MI6 Q-Branch. Major Boothroyd (Q senior) insists he continue his education in Chemistry and Engineering as he’s competent but not great yet in these areas. The Major is an absent minded professor type, involved but not affectionate yet provides enough structure and interesting projects to occupy Q.

Meanwhile Q in addition to the projects Boothroyd assigns him has started gathering some of his more cyber savvy colleagues in Q and IT Branches into a loosely defined “cyber security team”. It’s mostly them poking around MI6 systems testing and patching security. Technically, administrative IT is not under the purview of Q-Branch - you wouldn’t call Q-Branch if your laptop is refusing cooperate. Q-Branch is a specialised Field Research and Development (Weapons & Defence) division of MI6. However, there is increasing overlap with IT-Branch as terrorism and counterterrorism activities move into the cyber realm. The need to use cyber offensive measures (weapons) and protect against them (defend) blurs the lines between the branches in this age.

It is still up in the air as to which branch will eventually take over - both branches playing it like hot potato at the moment. Q has a suspicion that M wants Q-Branch to play a more involved role sooner rather than later but bureaucratic red tape and legitimate logistical and manpower concerns have yet to be addressed.

Timothy Hayden, Head of IT- branch is territorial about letting the grease monkeys down in Q-Branch toy with his high tech touch screens. He runs his branch like a corporate entity and isn’t a great fan of the somewhat disorganised tinkering elves that surround Boothroyd like a perverse Father Christmas toyshop. Boothroyd on the other hand doesn’t want Q-branch becoming mired in a multi-year IT systems transformation project that would draw resources away from their core competencies (whose budget should it come out of? what’s the scope? whose personnel? whose accountability? legacy systems, ongoing support and patches, etc.)

So for now, Q and his merry little bunch of misfits - who in later years will become the core group of senior Q-minions surrounding Q (opportunity to explore the other characters) carry on their project in the background. Its their standing Friday CYBRWar! night with IT-Branch. Their cybergames isn’t exactly sanctioned but is not prohibited either - as long as they don’t repeat the Black Friday incident where an uninformed IT boffin mistook the games as a legitimate attack and executed a hard shut down of Level 3 servers taking all email down with it…. now that was a long weekend of data recovery work no one wants repeated.

The games see them take turns playing system hacker and system defender. The score is currently an alarming 163 (success hacks) vs 57 (success repels) with both sides starting to uncomfortably acknowledge the gaping under-preparedness of their protocols. To add to the worry, a third of the successful repels are only because Q was playing lead defender. So, vigorous trash-talk and deliciously unhealthy takeaway food aside, it does serve a critical purpose - one that they won’t realise until a few years later.

Meanwhile, Q’s personal life starts to get interesting. He’s fallen for a university tutor in the Arts & History faculty (lets call him Adam) who couldn’t be more different than Q. Adam is flawlessly chisel cheeked and athletic - but internally soft, emotional and romantic. Juxtaposed to Qs fragile physicality but rapier wit and iron will. Q suspects that Adam sees in him a scrappy lost puppy in need of a good home and boundaries to focus his genius - but doesn’t mind ...initially. His first serious romance and sexual experience ensues. [insert desired smut here. LOL].

However even as his personal life blossoms, his life in Q-Branch begins to unravel. A spate of failed field operations culminating in the death of a field agent instigates an investigation. It is determined that equipment failure is a cause in all these cases. Major Boothroyd as branch head is ultimately accountable - he is censured and put on administrative leave, which is crushing to the old man who has spent his life in Q-branch. As he spends an emotional evening packing his office and reminiscing on a life spent in the bowels of MI6 creating countless gadgets for his countrymen, the stress and shame takes its toll. He suffers a stroke, and collapses. It’s Q who finds him unresponsive next to the old DB5 that Boothroyld wanted to see for the last time when Q goes to collect the old man for the “farewell” drinks Q-Branch was throwing to honour their old mentor.

Boothroyd survives but suffers long term damage to his right side, making a potential return to Q-Branch impossible. It is both an emotional and technical blow to the department which is now facing ever increasing scrutiny. There is even talk of contracting all R&D work to external defence companies and doing away with Q-Branch all together…….

Episode 2 continued under the cut.

———

Episode 2

Opens with a harried senior R trying to keep a demoralised Q-Branch together. The Major was a pillar of Q-Branch for decades and many feel a strong loyalty towards the old man, Q included. R orders a review of the few examples of returned equipment to find the root cause of failures. The engineers in Q-Branch get to it - they narrow it down to a few components but the records show no issue with them prior to assembly. Without more evidence, the investigation stalls.

Out of curiosity, Q pokes around the inventory system, trying to find a pattern. When he checks the data logs, he finds discrepancies that suggest data tampering. The component serial numbers have been moved around so that in some cases untested components or those that have failed testing are getting released to be used in the assembly of field equipment.

It is a small hack (if you can even call it that), surgically precise and inconspicuous enough that it flies under the radar. In an era of brazen top down system wide pwn-ing, no one would have given priority to securing these low level administrative systems since they don’t hold any classified information. But once compromised causes a ripple that cascades upwards. Q gets a knot in his stomach, how many more of these time bombs are hidden in the system?

Just then a field report for 007’s latest mission (Casino Royale) comes through. Q-branch is red flagged because the medical defibrillator they built for 007’s kit failed to discharge when expected - nearly costing the agent his life. It was only an act of serendipity that the liaison from HM Treasury Dept was there to assist. Q designed that defibrillator; he’d personally drawn up the schematics and the electronic controller as well as the specifications, he’d put in failsafes and redundancies knowing the critical use case of the equipment. This point he’s doesn’t know 007 personally, he knows of his reputation as a rebel and M’s experimental wild child. People say that about Q as well, that he’s M’s bet - for what exactly, only she knows. Q thinks otherwise, viewing MI6 as his gilded cage - one that M imposed and one that he now willingly submits to; to keep his egomaniacal tendencies in check (think pyjamas + tea + laptop = destruction). He resented it when he first arrived, but has since matured and loves the sense of purpose and outlet it provides.

He plans to gather more evidence about the data tampering, before presenting it to R. But the next day he gets an urgent call from R telling him to come to HQ, they’ve sent a car for him. He has to cancel a long-awaited planned weekend with Adam who doesn’t quite get what’s so important that Q can’t put it off. To everyone else, Q is still a PhD student with no more pressing concerns than finishing his doctoral dissertations - a lazy student at that.

This is where we see the cracks in Q’s civilian persona. Brilliant as he is, he barely makes his tutoring requirements and spends more time in Q-Branch than in the university labs. When he does show, he’s ill prepared and sporting increasingly implausible excuses. His PhD project is half baked and boring because the more interesting topics he’s working on is for MI6 and classified. Yet his technical genius means he still manages to run verbal rings around his peers and professors and make a general nuisance of himself (he can’t resist pulling the lion’s tail at times simply to see what would happen. We see traces of this side of him when he meets 007 later in Skyfall). He has all the ego and sensitivity (lack of) of a Sheldon-esque character but without a developmental disorder to explain his behaviour and endear him to those around him. MI6 funds his tuition so he is not wanting of anything. In summary for all appearances, he’s a privileged little shit too smart for his own good, cruising through academia without ambition or drive to make something of himself.

Adam is understandably upset. Q is annoyed at Adam’s concern and increasing attempts to ‘guide’ and ‘channel’ him. He knows he’s been more erratic and impatient lately but can’t explain to Adam why. He leaves Adam at the university entrance and gets into the unmarked black car with a promise to talk later.

When he gets to HQ he finds out that he’s facing the fallout from 007s’ field report. He’s now caught up in the internal inquiry dragnet. The inquiry board wants to issue a recall of ALL specialised field equipment designed by Q-branch. It would be a massive undertaking as it’s deployed all over the globe and across agencies (CIA, NATO, EEAS, etc that contracted work with Q-Branch) and in many cases with agents under deep cover. Not to mention the embarrassment and damage to MI6 reputation (they don’t know it yet, but this is the start of a campaign to undermine M; this is also my take on why Q-Branch makes no appearance in Casino Royal and Quantum). They also want to rescind Q’s contract and security clearance to cover their liabilities - using Q as a scapegoat.

R thinks it’s an over reaction; granted there are serious issues here but give Q-Branch time to investigate before they make a decision. The board is unconvinced; they don’t have time for a protracted review, they have already lost one of their filed agents, now nearly losing a 00-agent. If something similar happens to one of the other allied agencies because of Q-Branch tech, the reputational embarrassment will be severe. The situation is at an impasse.

With his career on the line, Q speaks up for the first time in the inquiry, surprising everyone into silence. In the last half hour, he’s been talked to as if his presence was irrelevant; a lowly Q-Branch boffin, disposable and expendable in the grand scheme of political machinations. He details his findings regarding the data tampering in the inventory management system. If he can trace which of the components are affected, he could narrow the list of equipment that potentially needs to be recalled. He asks for 3 days.

R an old school mechanical engineer, is out of his depth on this one as it’s a IT systems issue. IT-Branch Head, Hayden is uncooperative. He thinks Q is trying to deflect blame to his branch. Hayden objects, accusing Q of unauthorised hacking into IT Dept. Q admits to unauthorised access but quips back that its hardly hacking when all he had to do was jiggle the the handle to find the door unlocked. Terrorists are not going to pass up an exploit just because we asked nicely. That shuts everyone up. Out of the corner of his eye, he thinks he sees M look somewhat pleased but isn’t sure.

The board acquiesces to the 3 days….the clock starts ticking.⏳

Update: Episode 3 up now.

----

Let me know what you think? 😉

#00q #00q fanfiction #james bond #Q spin-off #quartermater #007 #would you watch this?

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diveronarpg · 4 years

Photo

Congratulations, NAY! You’ve been accepted for the role of LAVINIA. Admin Minnie: I’ve always thought Lillian was one of the trickier characters to fully grasp, because it’d be so easy to turn her into an outline of a person and not the whole vivid picture. But you, Nay, have won me over completely. You have such a knack for characterization and nailed Lillian’s voice, that balance she strikes between light and power. The interview portion was my absolute favorite part — I loved the way you brought her to life and the way you showed us the inner workings of her mind, heart and soul. I’m so, so glad to put Lillian into your talented hands! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | nay

Age | twenty-two

Preferred Pronouns | she / her

Activity Level | i find it cruelly ironic that i asked for time away from the roleplay community to try to make sense of my chaotic life, and a couple of weeks later, the world imploded and now we’re all quarantined. somehow, i’ve got my shit together-ish. and i really sorely need the light that is the DV fam in these trying times, however, so. 8/10, i’d say?

Timezone | gmt+5

How did you find the rp? | i sold my soul to it some time ago~

Current/Past RP Accounts | never RP’ed a day in my life, what’re you talking about?

IN CHARACTER

Character | LAVINIA / lillian wen

What drew you to this character? | titus adronicus isn’t exactly the darkest of shakespeare’s works, but the storyline of lavinia in particular happens to be one that has always been brutally impactful to me. there is this absolutely fascinating dichotomy lavinia depicts through her journey in the play, one between honor & freedom, that keeps me up at night sometimes. and when it comes to lillian, that struggle feels embedded in her story just the same. regardless, i don’t know that it’s possible to not be drawn to lillian wen.

there’s a multitude of aspects that keeps me inescapably besotted with her — the foundation upon which she blossomed from child, to girl, to the woman she is; an aura of a true, chatoyant aesthete; a plot arc of sexual assault survival, used as a steppingstone towards advocacy… but most of all, i think what won out was the soul she’s got, and all the light it bleeds. there is a line in her biography that reads: “belief was a powerful thing in the wen household.” i’ve thought about that line for daaaays, honestly. it was that line that really got me with her, because i could already see it in my head: she was raised by two women—artistic, emotional, intellectual, opinionated women—and they taught her belief as a religion. she was raised to know it was the most useful weapon she could ever have in an admittedly dastardly world; faith, in herself & in the power of light, and hope, and living in one’s truth. to be raised that way, and make what she has of herself, to wind up in a loveless, strategic marriage and part of a mob? she is such an intriguing character, with such insurmountable potential for growth.

there is something about lillian’s devout optimism, which doesn’t deserve to be mistaken for naiveté, & a faith in humanity that bolsters me, reminding me a fair amount of the sweetness i’ve always adored in juliana, and how there is more than one way to be a fighter, which is exactly what lillian is. but i also think that aspect in a discordant war-time setting would be so god damn cool to play with, because it prompts questions: how far does being good get you? is anything really in black & white? what does a limit feel like? what could you break open to let the light in? i’d love a chance to find answers through an unravelling of her story.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

NOTE: here’s the ever-present disclaimer that these are all merely ideas, subject to discussion & changes, able to be altered in collaboration with other characters.

{ 1 } GILDED CAGE — a corrupt, mob-allegiant District Attorney for a fiancé; there is no question that it is to a man of power her mothers have intertwined her future, seeing protection for the daughter who is their whole world in the bloodbath tainting the city that is their home. to cassian bhatt, lillian is a nothing more than an accessory. of course, she had never been raised to be a girl who emptily dreamt of an ideal love, not when there was the whole universe to fall in love with, and no end to the every day magic the people it brimmed with had to offer. but a loveless marriage? lillian has never been one to tell lies, only ever to hone an innate ability to make the truth as palatable as possible, and her prospective bond feels like one. would she still go through with it? would she ever be able to say no to two women who never let her want for anything a day in her life?

⋯ cassian is the most obvious plot for her story, so i wanted to tackle him, first & foremost. i’m almost sure that lillian won’t seal the deal; she’s come too far in life to only come so far, and wind up with a man she feels nothing at all for. however, i was reading through cassian’s biography, too, and i would be lying if i said i couldn’t see potential for lillian to both either love, or something to cause friction in their dynamic, even if it isn’t a necessarily pleasant sort. currently, i know that lillian refuses to do more than hollowly tolerate him, purely because he has been forced upon her, and her general distrust of men in the wake of her assault makes her anything but open to him. can we really deny that he’s a smart, capable, clever man, though? there could be spark. it could turn to a catalyst for growth in multiple ways, positive & negative, and i am dying to explore the many different ways their story could unfold.

{ 2 } WHAT IS LOVE? — what if she does marry cassian bhatt? it is a possibility, after all. with the capulets, she has found a voice. she has a platform, she has causes she believes in & actively fights for, and a marriage wouldn’t bar lillian from any of that, nor would it keep her from being the precocious, curious creature that she is. and what if, after that’s done, she falls in love with someone? with her mothers never having been married, lillian never considered romantic love & legally-binding commitment to go hand-in-hand, but that does not mean it couldn’t. it doesn’t mean she couldn’t fall in love with a person she might, one day, want to be with. would she cross that line, if it came down to it? would cassian let her? would the capulets object to it, considering it is her relationship with him that has drug lillian into their fold?

⋯ this is more a subplot to the last than it is a standalone arc, but roll with it. lillian is, in a way that is one of my absolute favourite things about her, a delicious enigma of a woman. i don’t believe there is anything she couldn’t turn and look at from another side. and at the same time? i feel that she is a person who takes notions of integrity, and promises, very seriously. she is a woman of her word, at the end of the day. what would it take to blur her lines? you don’t choose who you fall in love with. you don’t choose when it happens, or how it happens. what you control is your actions, and lillian has both always believed that, and demonstrated it. so, what would she choose, in such a circumstance?

{ 3 } BEST LAID PLANS — she met cosimo capulet whilst on cassian’s arm, and it was over a glass of rosé, the man talked to her about her charity-work. he told her of the origins of the capulets’ particular brand of business: the robin hood reminiscent legacy initiated by one lucius capulet, of the revolution they had begun with, giving back to the impoverished lillian fought for as well. her mothers never would have understood how the good girl they had raised could level with a mob-boss, but lillian has, and it is how she has ended up a consultant to the capulets. but how far is she willing to integrate herself with their cause? how much of the necessary violence of a war can she truly stomach?

⋯ i told you: a dichotomy between honor & freedom. it feels like the crux of lillian’s story to me. i’ve got very strong headcanons in mind for the relationship she’s got with the capulets, purely because i would like for her relationship with them to stand on its own, as opposed to being more so reliant on the relationship her fiancé has with them. the fact that the capulets have given her a voice means a great deal to lillian, definitely more than she ever could have expected it to, and i would like to see that graciousness she’s developed drive her to make choices she might question under the lens of her own honor-code afterwards. you know me, i’m a sucker for internal conflict to drive character development, and i need it with lillian, for sure.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | honestly? i don’t think i could stomach lillian dying.

IN-DEPTH

♦ IN-CHARACTER INTERVIEW:

NOTE: out of caution, i’d like to precede this portion with trigger warnings for sexual assault mention and ptsd

“benvenuti!”

she is already greeting you before she’s quite done opening the door. welcome, is what must remind you that you are, in fact, a stranger in her house. the warmth the curve of her mouth radiates is one that seeps in through your pores; it is not easy to remember that this is the first time you’ve met signora lillian wen. you’ve heard it before: like the sun, she is hard to look at, yet her warmth is undeniable.

“come in,” she invites, and the silken slip-dress she’s donned seems to ripple like peach-hued water when she sweeps her arm, waiting for you to step over the threshold and stand beside her, so she might match you, footstep-for-footstep.

— What is your favorite place in Verona?

“that’s such a deliciously difficult question,” lillian enthuses, beaming, despite her brows that furrow in thought over it. favourite, after all, is no small word; she must ponder it, then, for she does so like to mean the things she says. “ – you know, i don’t know that i’ve only the one,” is what she settles on, pouring out the lemonde she’s fixed up a pitcher of herself just now. the smell of the mint leaves she’s peppered it with infuses itself in the house, and she can’t help but breathe it in, deeply, satisfied.

“so much of this city is so very dear to me. i cannot give you a favourite between them all, not when they’ve their own charms, and my own memories attached to them,” she slides over a glass to you, ice cubes merrily tinkling within, “but i will tell you that the oldest shall always be the home i grew up in. it was more snug than this, perhaps, yes, but my mothers made sure it brimmed with all that feeds the human soul. there isn’t a memory under that roof that does not make my heart ache with nostalgia, which, really, is the heart’s way of telling you it was worth it. don’t you agree?”

lillian clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, a sound of regret that does not match the soft radiance of her mouth.

“humble beginnings, hmm?”

— What does your typical day look like?

the living-room is far from lacking pieces of furniture, all of them as comfortable to sit in as they are to look at. you know this, because she has suggested you try each out to settle on a preference, and you’ve done it. it is only once your stomach hurts from laughter incited from such childish wonderfulness that you realise: she has broken the ice.

lillian herself sprawls out on a chaise lounge by the window, tipped on her side with her legs curled underneath herself. she looks like a mermaid. her words sound lyrical when her laughter laces them: “ah, always the same, and also never as well.”

the sip of lemonade is delicate, brief, though she tips the glass for a second, fuller mouthful when you’re sure she can’t possibly have swallowed the first that quickly. never mind –

“i like to start my day rising with the sun,” she tells you. “my absolute favourite thing about living by myself is the luxury of not having to speak at all until i wish to do so – which, of course, doesn’t take too long at all, for i might be my own fondest companion. i like to prepare my own breakfast, after; eat outside, if i want, though i rather rebelliously might crawl back into bed with a tray when i feel particularly blue. i never stay under the covers for too long, however. i simply can’t. there’s too much to do. so, i dress myself up in whatever ensemble feels the most myself that day, and set off to find another way to save the world.”

her nose crinkles when she grins. you cannot help grinning back, can you?

— What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

unbidden, lillian’s mind whirls so quickly, her thoughts slip from her fingers like water. and she is back there, in that room, with that man. that man who smiled when she walked into the room. who smiled when he motioned her to costumery that felt divine to touch, silken & decadent. who smiled when he called her a vision. who smiled when he held her down, while she begged, when he left her on the ground.

believing that smile, she thinks.

“ ––– signora?” you ask, tone tender, for she looks so fragile when she is still.

as if a button has been pushed, lillian seems to snap out of it – appears to back to life. there is an apology in her smile, and it feels like a shadow. the shadow darkens her words: “to call one the biggest seems like tempting fate, doesn’t it?” she wonders aloud. “such as when one says things can’t possibly get any worse, and right then, the universe shows you how wrong you were about that?”

— What has been the most difficult task asked of you?

cassian bhatt. the syllables of his name sit at the tip of her tongue, burning, and lillian cannot say them. she cannot betray her mothers so. she knows, already, the looks on their faces would ache more—inevitably, unbearably more—than that of letting her jaw clench, and teeth grind, to keep that truth inside, until she swallows it down.

there can be more than one truth, lillian knows. she reminds herself: once, twice, three times. and then, over the rim of her glass, she smiles a smile she can mean. “that isn’t a mindset i agree with,” she states, “if you believe it is the most difficult, it might feel near impossible, might it not? that just won’t do. forget most difficult–” she sweeps it away with a wave of her hand, like a makeshift broom-limb, “–let’s only say we’ve all got our challenges, and we aren’t the most enthusiastic to rise to all of them.”

she breathes a laugh, then. “my maman likes to remind me; mind over matter, petit fleur. i can hear it in my head already!”

— What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

lillian’s brows crawl up her forehead. she looks so perplexed, you can’t help but wonder if you accidentally said a word wrong. her home is easy to relax inside, involuntarily, and the possibility would not be unfounded. she explains it herself, all the same, when she asks: “is it a war?”

it is difficult to discern whether the question is rhetorical or not. her head cants, and she answers it herself, “h.g. wells once wrote: if we don’t end war, war will end us.” her sip is pensive, now. “i believe that, truly. there are no winners; only those who are left in the wake of one. and so, i can only hope that is not what this is.”

her eyes are kind. “don’t you?”

♦ EXTRAS:

✴ pinterest → here;

✴ tag → here.

#accepted #accepted: lavinia

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celestica-1988 · 5 years

Text

I Felt In Love With A Vampire

TheDirt!MickMars x Female Reader.

Desclaimer: presence of a bit of violence and blood.

You were leaning against a wall, smoking a cigarette.

You were calm, despite you were in a little street in the back of Whisky A Go Go, a place which wasn’t safe for most of the girls to be alone. It was common that drunk guys showed up to annoy a girl or with the intention to fuck her. And you looked like the perfect girl to force to do any activities, you were a short and tiny Asiatic girl with a light blue bob as haircut.

Little do people know you were more dangerous than all drunk people in the whole Sunset Strip, you were a born predator. You were at the top of the food chain, you were a vampire and that was the reason you weren’t scared at all.

You were about to finish the cig when four men walked toward you, laughing and with lustful smiles, you ignored them. They cornered you, you threw the cigarette away and looked at them bored, you have been in that situation countless times before.

“What’s up, guys?” You asked with an indifferent tone.

“We are about to fuck you, kid.”

You laughed at them.

“I don’t think so. You chose the wrong girl.” This time the men laughed looking at how tiny you were.

With a fluid movement you knocked unconscious two of them, the other two exchanged a glare and started to attack you. You got rid of the closest to you and were ready to take care of the second when you saw that another man was beating him.

You looked at him, astonished, who was that man that was helping you instead of joining those animals?

Average height, long black hair and a rocker look, that’s what you saw of him.

When also the fourth man was k.o. he looked at you and you met with two piercing blue eyes, soon after his expression changed into a pained one, you were about to go help him when you smelled it.

Sweet, inebriating smell of human blood.

Your thirst woke up immediately, you noticed a cut on the man’s arm and you jumped away from him. His eyes widened, one of your jump was at least two times longer of an average human one’s.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Y/N.”

“I’m Mick Mars. Are you okay?”

“Yes, I am.” He started to move toward you.

“Don’t come any closer, it’s dangerous.”

He was confused.

“I wanted to invite you to drink something, I thought you needed it.”

“This is a nice thought, but for you is dangerous to come close to me now.

If you wanna have a drink with me let’s meet tomorrow at ten o’clock outside this place.”

“It’s ok for me, but…”

You didn’t let him finish and jumped away.

In a heartbeat you were running on the roofs of Los Angeles, your throat plagued by the thirst, you needed blood now, you didn’t have time to waste.

You reached your fave local for vampires and ordered a big glass of blood, you were even more pale than usual and your hair were a mess.

“Little Y/N, what happened?” Asked the bar tender, smiling.

“I met a man, but he was wounded on an arm.”

“You were scared to hurt him so you run away?” He gave you the cup and you started to drink eagerly.

“Yea, pretty much.” “It’s so you.” “You know I don’t wanna hurt humans, that’s why I come here. You serve only animal blood, am I right?” “Yes, you are. Was this guy special?” You nodded.

“I was smoking outside a place on Sunset Strip when the usual drunk gang came and he helped me got rid of them. He also wanted to offer me a drink, but I have to run away.” The man laughed.

“Unlucky as usual, eh, Y/N?”

“Uhm. No, well, I told him if we could see tomorrow and he said yes.” “So, drink, honey.

You need to be at your full or you will bite him.” You were horrified by the perspective of turning another human being into a vampire, but you also knew that if your designated man was human that would be the only way to stay together.

“I never thought of turning him into a vampire.

I barely know him.” “I was joking. I know you would think ten times before turning someone into a vampire.”

“Which is ironic, right? The person who turned me into one didn’t think if it was right or wrong.” “Most of us didn’t care.”

“Yeah, I know.” But you were different because your story was strange even in vampire’s world, that’s why few people knew it. You told it just to people you trust most, so why were you thinking to tell it to Mick?

……………………………………………………

The next day you woke up at nine o’clock when the sun was down.

Naturally vampires couldn’t stay out when there was the sun, but centuries of technology created a pills that let also the creatures of the night enjoy the day. You usually took it, but yesterday you came back home too late, even vampires needed to sleep a bit, a bit more if they got violently thirsty during the night.

You drank other blood, took a shower and wore a black dress with black boots, you put also black make up on your face. Your eyes seemed bigger and your skin paler than usual.

Who cares.

At ten o’clock you were outside Whisky A Go Go, Mick was already there smoking a cigarette, he seemed stiffer than yesterday.

“Hello, Y/N.” “Hi, Mick. Are you okay?” “Yes. Why do you ask?”

“You seem so rigid.” “I have a chronic disease at my back.”

“Oh, I see. I’m sorry.”

You went in, there was no tables free, but he talked briefly to the waitress and magically you two found one.

“Who are you, Mick Mars?” You asked in wonder.

“I play in a band that sometimes play here, Mötley Crüe and this sometimes help.”

You sat at a table and ordered two whiskies.

“So, how are you, Y/N?”

“I’m fine. Things like this happened to me pretty often so I learned to handle it.” “You are a strong girl.” “You can say in that way.”

“Are there any other ways to say what you’ve done?”

You stay silent, the waitress was about to serve you your ordinations and that would give you time to decide what to say and what not.

Your whiskies arrived and you sipped a bit, it was good to feel something different from blood.

“So, who are you?”

“A Japanese descendant, my ancestor arrived there just before the war.” He shot you a glare and you sighed.

“Ask me the question and cut it out, Mick.

I know you want to.” “Those jumps you made, no human is able to do that, even an Olympic champion.

So, are you a… vampire?” “Yes, I am.” “How old are you?” “I’m 20, from 1944.”

“Oh, you were twenty when…” “No. It’s not the place to tell my story. Do you wanna go to the beach?”

“To me it’s okay.” You two finished your drinks and then left.

While you were going at the beach you asked yourself if told him the whole truth.

“You can’t go out during the day, that’s why you asked me to meet in the evening.”

“Partially true. Since before the war there’s a pill that let us walk in the sun without set ourselves on fire.

We have scientists also in our community.” “I see.” You arrived at the beach and looked for an entrance.

“Does holy water hurt you?” “No. Believe it or not there are Christian among us.”

“Garlic?” “Pretty delicious.”

“A stake in the heart?” “Who wouldn’t die if you stab them?” Mick laughed.

“So, is there a way humans can take a vampire down?”

“Decapitate us and then set fire to all parts of ourselves very soon after. Do you plan to kill me?” “No, but it’s useful to know just in case.”

You laughed, you had some extra blood in case the situation got out of hand and considering how delicious was Mick’s blood smell it could happen.

You sat in the sand, some inch away from the wet ones.

You looked in the eyes and suddenly you were kissing each other with burning passion.

“Sorry, I wanted to do that since I met you.” “Me too, which makes things complicated.” “Because one day I’ll die.”

“Yea.”

There was a moment of silence.

“What is your story?” “It started in Japan. The Japan of 1943 which wanted to win the war at any costs. I lived in a small village, not too far away from Tokyo, with my mother. My father and my two oldest brothers went to war, mum was the only one I had and we both worked in a military factory, even though I was just ten at the time. But we couldn’t live just with my mum job and everyone was forced to contribute to the victory, even kids.

Anyway one day the factory was nuked by Americans and my mother died.

I was desperate, in an heartbeat I had no more job, no more family, no more house or food.

When I was convinced that soon I would be dead a man who was the director of the factory came to me and told me he found a job for me.

I shouldn’t have followed him, I know, but I was in serious shit, I was considering suicide two seconds before.” “Did he sell you as a prostitute?” “Nope. Under the factory there was a lab in which unconventional weapons were studied to win the war.

He gave me a room, food and let me sleep.

The next day he told me that my job would be being a test subject.” You stopped for a while, you still felt bad when you thought about those moments.

“A test subject?” “Yes. They captured an American soldier who was also a vampire and they wanted to create an army of invincible soldiers. An army of vampires controlled by them, but all the previous tests ended up in horrible ways, so they thought that would be easier control a child then an adult.”

“How could a vampire be a soldier?” “I don’t know, to be honest.

All I know is that someone brought me to that soldier, we were both scared. He didn’t want to hurt a child, I read it in his eyes, but he had no choice and so he bite me.

I don’t remember much of the first three days, just pain, all my body was on fire.

Three days after I started to be fed by the scientist, even though I was a young vampire I didn’t rebel, I stayed quiet. Another process was happening in me: some child bitten by vampire are lucky enough to start a process of growth. In a week I was the same age as now, monitored by the scientist, and then I stop to grow forever.

When the process stopped the daze in which I was faded away and I started to feel rage, I was kept captive in a small and dirty cell and I wanted to be out. All around me I smelled the blood of the scientists and this made me mad: I was so close to blood, still I couldn’t drink it.

I resisted five days and then I broke free, I destroyed everything and killed everyone who was in that room. Since then I couldn’t drink human blood and I drank just animal’s one.”

“What happened after?” “It was at night, I ran and ran chased by the soldiers.

At some point I jumped into the sea and I swam away, in some way I reached the Hawaii and then California. I was lucky enough to avoid concentration camps for Japanese because I was around only during the night.

I stayed in America, every now and then I leave Los Angeles because people start to notice I never get older, but I always come back here.” Now there was silence, only he sound of the sea.

“So, what do you think of me?” “Well, Los Angeles is full of weird people and I met a lot of them, but you are one of a kind.”

“Is it a compliment?” “Yes, it is. You are a very special person who deserves the best.” He took your hand and kissed it, you blushed.

“I don’t know if I’m that person…” You put a finger on his lips, conscious that he was warmer than you and of the blood in his body.

“Let me decide. For all my life people decided for me in the most important occasion so now I wanna chose something on my free will and I choose you.

I have no idea how it will end up, but I wanna try to know.

Are you with me?” “Yes.” He tried to kiss you but you avoided it laughing.

“Something is missing, Mars-san.” He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Uhm. It’s too soon for an “I love you” so what could it be?

Ah, I see.

Do you wanna come to a date with me, Y/N?” “Correct answer and yes, I wanna go to a date with you.

Now you can kiss me, Mick-kun.”

He smiled and he kissed you.

A long and passionate kiss under the moon.

You hoped that it was just the first of a long series.

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davidthetraveler · 5 years

Note

A warm thick liquid dripped down his arm. A hot shame flashed on his face; he had embarrassed himself. (2 sentence thing) ( I really like sending you these :) )

Our Growing Boy

Characters: Virgil, Logan, Roman, Thomas, Patton

Pairings: Parental Analogical, Romantic Logicality

Trigger Warnings: Blood Mention, Remus Sanders Mention, Deceit Sanders Mention, Zombie Mention

Squick Warnings: Giant/Tiny Content

Word Count: 1988

Read it on AO3

(I’m also using one of the prompts from @hiddendreamer67‘s list of October Giant/Tiny Prompts, specifically Day 24: Blood)

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If you’d like, you can send me two sentences, and I’ll continue them like they’re part of a fic.

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Crunch. Chomp. Smack.

With each noisy bite, more red streamed down his face, coating his jaw and dripping down onto his dirty mangled shirt. He chewed up the massive bite in his mouth, allowing the liquid to flow freely over his form before finally swallowing. He leaned back over his prize and was about to take another messy bite, when a slight creak behind him made him freeze.

“And just what do you think you’re doing, young man?”

Virgil slowly turned around, the warm thick liquid now dripping down his arms. A hot shame flashed through his face, embarrassed for himself at being caught.

There in the doorway to the back porch was Logan, his brow creased in stern disapproval.

Virgil nervously gulped, swallowing down the juice still in his mouth before trying to find his voice.

“I-I-..I was, was just, just trying to…to, uh…I was just, just…isn’t this a little early for you to get home?”

Logan allowed a small smirk to show on his face. “Yes, but school let out early today since it’s a holiday weekend. Now, would you care to explain why you’re covered in giant cherry juice?”

Virgil’s embarrassed blush deepened, almost starting to blend in with the red juice staining his face and clothes. “I was…I…”

After a few false starts, he finally sighed in defeat as his slouch deepened. It was ironic, really, how small his Papa could make him feel, even if he was almost twice as tall as him at full height.

“I wanted to make the blood for my costume look more authentic, and when I remembered what happened the last time Dad cut open a raw cherry, I…I figured he wouldn’t mind if I…I borrowed just one of them. I mean, you remember how long those stains lasted, even after Dad tried wiping himself down. I figured it would really sell the look. Plus, as long as he didn’t know, I figured he…he wouldn’t miss just one.”

Logan hummed in response, looking his son over. Finally, he reached behind himself and pulled out a towel, which he handed up to Virgil.

“Regardless of the fact that you do look rather terrifying with all that red dripping off your mouth, especially in conjunction with the use of these old tattered clothes you’re wearing, your Father and I have both expressed how important it is to follow our rules, especially in regards to the garden. Might I remind you what happened the last time you took something from there without permission?”

Virgil paused briefly before resuming wiping himself off, the flash of remembrance bringing up all the old memories. He could remember very well the taste of that massive orange the size of a basketball. How delicious it had been, how quickly it seemed to fill him up with its juices, and how that filling-up feeling had kept getting stronger and stronger as he outgrew his clothes and doubled in height.

And after that, all the memories of having to go to school as a freak of nature, permanently transformed because he broke his dad’s rules and had ended up getting dosed with his parents’ secret experimental growth formula designed to help grow larger, stronger sources of food for distribution in impoverished countries. The stares, the fearful murmurs, the endless teasing from the bullies who, even if he was big enough and strong enough to fight them off, he was too afraid of his own size and power to confront them.

Luckily for him, the year after that his dads had let him switch schools, which had allowed him to meet his new friends Roman Alteza and Thomas Sanders. They didn’t care that Virgil was a giant. They just liked this quiet but caring, if slightly intimidating, boy who was snarky and fun and willing to help out when something got stuck in a tree. Not to mention he was pretty good at getting Roman’s weird twin Remus and Thomas’ bratty cousin Daemon to leave them alone with his slightly threatening quips, once his new friends managed to help bring him out of his shell.

Virgil couldn’t help but smile at the recollections, but Logan’s lecturing tone as he continued brought him back to the present.

“Considering your current status, I would assume that you would have been more anxious about taking another sample from our experiments. We still have no way to reverse the formula’s effects, and even if we’ve managed to mostly work out the side effects from consumption of the fruit, there’s still the possibility of another reaction, especially for someone who’s already been dosed with the formula.”

Virgil hung his head, shame welling up inside him at his foolishness as he lowered himself down to sit on the porch.

“I’m sorry, Papa. I guess I just got so excited at the idea that I forgot about the consequences.”

Logan sighed, but reached out to take the towel from Virgil’s hand. While his long and lanky stature meant that he was quite a bit taller than the average man, he was barely taller than his son’s seated form. In truth, his son’s condition was just as much his and Patton’s fault as it was Virgil’s. After all, had they not been more careful about keeping their experiments protected, Virgil would not have even managed to get a hold of the altered orange.

With these thoughts in mind, he picked up rubbing off the excess juice from his son’s face where Virgil had left off, reaching out to grasp his shoulder with his other hand.

“Well, it would seem that there were no additional side effects from your consumption. And considering your previous record of exemplary behavior, I believe we can forego the need for a punishment for tonight.”

Virgil’s head shot up in excitement. “You mean, I can still go out with Roman and Thomas tonight?”

Logan nodded his head. “So long as you make sure to be home by ten.”

Virgil frowned. “But my usual curfew for weekends is–”

He came up short at Logan’s raised eyebrow, and immediately backpedaled. “Home by ten, got it.”

No sooner had Logan finished wiping off the remaining drips, a call from behind them announced Roman and Thomas’ arrival. Roman was decked out in a full-on classic Dracula get-up, complete with flowing cape and high collar. Thomas’ werewolf costume, by comparison, was much less intimidating, giving off more of a human-dog hybrid feel than that of a monstrous nightmare creature seeking human flesh.

“Hi Mr. Logan,” Thomas called as they came up to the porch.

“Greetings, Thomas. You are looking exceptional.” Thomas blushed but gave his thanks.

“Hey, Mama Lo,” Roman greeted, a playful smirk on his face.

Logan frowned slightly. “I believe I have mentioned my feelings toward that nickname more than a few times, Roman.”

“Ah, come on, Mr. Berry. You know how much you love it.” Roman looked as if he would have gladly kept on needling Logan, but the slightest increase in the crease of his brow told him it was best not to continue.

“So, are we ready?” Thomas asked after a brief awkward moment.

“Yeah, I think so,” Virgil replied, looking to his Papa for confirmation.

Logan smiled. “Yes, I believe you are. Remember, be home by ten. Otherwise, do have a good time tonight.”

Virgil smiled and pulled his Papa in for a hug. “Love you, Papa.”

“Love you too, son,” Logan answered as they pulled apart, Logan beaming at his son. Virgil smiled back and got to his feet, turning to join his two friends as they headed back to the rear gate they had first come through.

“Just remember to try and bring some of the candy back tonight. Just because you can eat eight times as much as the other boys doesn’t mean you should.”

“Okay, Pops,” Virgil called back as he carefully stepped over the fence into the back alley behind their home.

Just as Virgil turned to follow Roman and Thomas down the block, Logan heard the back door open and close behind him.

“Oh no, did I miss him? I wanted to wish him well before he headed out for the night.”

Logan turned to look down at his husband. Patton’s short, squat form was slumped slightly in disappointment. Logan wrapped his arm around the shorter man’s shoulders, pressing a kiss into his hair.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine. I’ve told him to be back by ten, so I’m certain you’ll still be able to see him tonight.”

Patton frowned up at Logan. “Ten? But didn’t we agree he could stay out later on weekends?”

“Yes, but I felt it prudent to pull back on that for tonight, considering the fact that he got hold of one of the new cherries.”

Patton paled at that. “What?! Is he okay? Did it do anything to him? Do we need to–”

It took a few moments to get Patton to calm down enough for Logan to explain what had happened. Once he did, he allowed Patton to rant out his feelings, from relief that nothing else had happened to Virgil because of their formula, to anger at Virgil’s poor decision, to the exuberant joy at having finally managed to get the formula to stop affecting humans when consumed via the fruit. By the time Patton had tired himself out, the sun had fully set, and the two were seated together on the back porch swing, lazily rocking back and forth and staring up at the stars.

“Logan,” Patton suddenly asked, “do you think we’re bad parents? I mean, Virgil wouldn’t be stuck like this if we had done a better job of taking care of him.”

Logan didn’t respond. He thought back to his own ruminations on that subject from earlier. But then he remembered all the times they’d had this conversation in the past, both with each other and with the counselor they’d sought out after the original incident.

“We’re not perfect,” he finally replied, but quickly continued when he felt Patton deflate slightly beside him. “But just because he’s not completely normal doesn’t mean we failed him. We’ve taught him what’s most important in life: to be kind and generous, loving and helpful. To be a good person and to take care of himself and others.

“Even if he’s a bit bigger than normal, it’s not the size of his body that’s going to really matter. It’s the size of his heart, and his is the biggest I’ve ever seen, except for maybe yours, mon couer.”

Patton giggled slightly at the old nickname and leaned up to meet Logan’s lips in a loving kiss.

The two would have probably gone on like that for some time, had a series of shrieking laughs not broken them out of their reverie. Looking down to the end of the alley, they could just barely make out a group of kids running down the alley from a towering zombie with dyed purple hair. Virgil was doing his best to keep up the act, but he couldn’t help but break character briefly to wave at his dads as he passed, Thomas and Roman jogging behind him to keep up.

Logan chuckled lightly at their son’s antics. “No matter what happens, I’m sure our boy is going to be just fine.”

Patton nodded in agreement, leaning his head into his husband’s chest as they resumed staring up at the stars. Logan was right. They weren’t perfect parents. But they had loved their son so much, and would always do so. And they knew they didn’t have to be perfect to know they had raised a son who was doing his best and who loved them just as much.

And if Virgil coming home on time that night and kneeling down to give his dads a big, strong hug before bed wasn’t proof of that, then they didn’t know what was.

#Blood Mention TW #Deceit Sanders Mention TW #Remus Sanders Mention TW #Zombie Mention TW #Giant/Tiny Content #Sanders Sides Fanfiction #David's Writing

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kuro-gossips · 6 years

Text

Splashes of Colour

Chapter 4: Shades of Purple

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Shortly after having a vision of his soulmate -- not the first and not the last, he is sure -- Grindelwald holds a debriefing for his subordinates. The heterochromic man commands to one them, “I want you to go to the circus now. Give my note to Credence and begin his journey.”

Nagel nods and quickly excuses himself from the room. Rosier, elegantly dressed as ever, haughtily declares in her heavy French accent, “When we’ve won, they’ll flee cities in the millions. They’ve had their time.”

“Now, now. We don’t say such things out loud. We only want freedom. Freedom to express who we truly deserve to be.” Grindelwald pacifies, a smirk curling up through his lips.

The French woman agrees, a finger positioned on her chin in contemplation, “To annihilate non-wizards.”

The Dark Lord’s eyes flash -- patience wearing thin -- when he speaks next, “Not all of them. We are not merciless, but the beast of burden will always be necessary. Rosier, if you please.”

The blue-eyed witch knows what he is referring to, even if he doesn’t explicitly say it, and retrieves the skull-shaped hookah for her Lord. Grindelwald takes a deep breath in and exhales the smoke that models itself into the Obscurus, black fog swirling with intermittent red flashes, and then resolving into an image of Credence Barebone. His acolytes vibrate with excitement, except for the wizard of Asian descent, Krall, who seems sullen at the sight.

“So, Credence Barebone. A boy nearly destroyed by the woman who raised him, yet now, he seeks the mother who bore him. He’s desperate for family, for love, and he is the key to our victory. We must make him believe that we can provide that information to him.” Grindelwald proclaims, his mismatched eyes shining with an unbridled lust for power.

Krall, a nervous tick in his dark eyebrow, says, “Well, we know where the boy is, don’t we? Why don’t we just grab him and leave?”

“No, he must come voluntarily… and he will.” The Dark wizard shakes his head in response, while explaining. His gaze returns to the suspended vapour form of Credence in the centre of the room. “The path has been laid and he is following it, according to plan. The trail that will lead him to me, along with the strange and glorious truth of who he is.”

“Why is he so important?”

“Who represents the greatest threat to our cause, Krall?”

“Albus Dumbledore, of course.”

“And if I asked you to go to Hogwarts, where he is hiding, and kill him for me, would you do it for me?” An unkind grin graces Grindelwald’s face. “Credence is the only entity alive, who can kill him.”

Krall stumbles through his rebuttal, quickly correcting himself as he catches his Lord’s stern glare, as if daring him to finish his initial train of thought, “You really think that he can kill the great-- can kill Albus Dumbledore?”

“Oh, Krall. I know he can. But will you be with us when that happens? Will you?” Grindelwald whispers, imparting a knowing look on the other man. The powerful wizard is able to discern that Krall is not completely faithful to him and to their mission because he has Seen it in the near future. Then, he addresses the rest of the room’s occupants, “Now, leave.”

In the vacant space, the blonde wizard recalls Newt’s freckled face in the subway tunnels of New York, contorted in agony from the electrical shocks he had sent at him and the distraught expression after he had learned that being too physically far from his soulmate is such a cause for concern. He can’t help but derive pleasure from the sight -- such a delicious image painted over the boy’s delicate features. He ponders many things as he takes a seat, a sinister smile on his face, looking out at the bustling streets of the French capital and enjoying a cup of tea. Grindelwald is intrigued by this so-called magical growth as a result of being in a mutual soulmate bond. Now, his next important issue to address is how to persuade the British onto his side. He knows the other has a soft spot a mile wide for magical creatures and that includes the Obscurus contained within Credence. The Dark Lord lets out a pleased hum as plans start to from in his head, soon to come to fruition.

He summons Vinda back a while later; she awaits his command, “Yes, my Lord?”

“Retrieve the Ministry’s records on Newton Scamander.” She bows at her waist and goes to complete Grindelwald’s bidding.

***

A beautiful woman, porcelain skin with hair as dark as night, is kneeling beside a trunk filled with extravagant costumes. She strokes the dark blue dress on top, the material is smooth under her touch, too similar to a snake’s skin. She knows her performance is about to begin and she knows she will hate every moment of it. However, she doesn’t have much choice at the moment. Nagini had needed a way out of Indonesia, away from human traffickers who had sought her out for prostitution or slavery. Skender may be the trash of the magical community, but the next option was far worse. So, she decided to display her ‘unique talent’ in the circus show instead.

“Nagini!” It’s the boy she has become close with over the past couple of months, Credence. His hair has thankfully grown out from that terrible haircut that he sported when she met him. He rushes towards her with an urgent whisper, steel bars separating them, “I think I know where she is.”

Credence must be referring to the identity of his birth mother and she confirms her suspicions when she reads the note he hands her, a frown forming. Regardless of her personal feelings, Nagini meets his chocolate brown eyes, sadness ever present because she knows how it is to be lost. She remains wary at the thought of this Grindelwald person who sent the note. She wonders if Credence can trust this man -- after all, she’s heard the whispers.

“We escape tonight.” He promises, hope burgeoning in his eyes for the first time since his initial meeting with Percival Graves in New York. He thinks he can find his true family and identity, and maybe then, he can stop feeling so utterly lost.

The ringmaster, Skender, appears through the tent’s flaps and angrily shouts at Credence, “Hey! I’ve told you to stay away from her, boy. Did I say you could take a break? Clean out the Kappa.”

He jerks the curtains between the two closed and scolds Nagini, telling her to get ready for her show. Credence barely contains his rage as he eyes the hanging cage, full of Firedrakes, plotting.

***

The night is clear and filled with gleaming stars as Tina Goldstein wanders through the streets of Paris. The now reinstated Auror, far from home and on a self-appointed mission, walks with an air of confidence, so unlike nine months ago in New York. Somehow, despite her elegant gait, her shoulders are still burdened with personal troubles, thoughts commiserating inside her head. Her long, black trench coat glistens in the dim light as she approaches a statue of a robed woman, gracefully posed upon a giant slab of stone, where her fellow disguised witches and wizards are disappearing into. Dark eyes dart back and forth, ensuring that the non-magical citizens aren’t watching her, and she ducks into the sculpture.

Tina arrives at the entrance of a bustling circus with several tents, the largest one in the centre. A banner is strung across that reads: ‘Circus Arcanus: Freaks and Oddities.’ Street performers line the sides of the main walkway: half-trolls displaying incredible feats of strength, a half-elf juggling knives and other dangerous objects, and a pair of albino twins spitting flames between their open mouths. There is a magnificent creature Tina has never seen before -- its long, plumed tail coiling with feline-like finesse -- staring out from behind sturdy iron bars. The Auror hears the crackling of fireworks erupting in the sky above her.

She slips into the crowd of the main tent, dark eyes intent on searching for the lost Obscurial boy. She tries her best to blend in as Skender, the circus owner, grows increasingly frustrated at his freak’s rebellious behaviour. Credence, somewhere off in the back, makes eye contact with his female friend. Noticing Nagini’s gaze, Tina follows it and finally locates Credence. She begins to move towards the boy she had failed in New York. Skender is furious as he lashes his whip at the bars, “She is forced to become…”

Tina tunes out whatever drivel the burly man is spouting, it is unimportant to her. At last, Nagini gives in and slowly morphs into the body of a snake. Before anyone can react, the large snake strikes at Skender through the bars and yells something in Parseltongue. The ringmaster collapses, bleeding from the wound in his neck. Credence, eyes dark with emotion, snaps a stick at the cage containing the Firedrakes, who soar to freedom. The fabric of the big top catches aflame, screams erupting from the crowd, people stomping and running over each other to the exit. Tina tries her best to navigate through them.

A state of panic settles over the circus as the Firedrakes wreak havoc, tearing patterns through the night sky and trailing showers of sparks. The multitude of creatures are terrified and angered. A Hippogriff is rearing back, while its handlers attempt to rein it in. Performers are scuttling to and from, packing up their belongings, house elves are shoving everything into boxes that fold in on themselves until they become small enough to carry. Tina appears with a resounding snap and flicks her wand to put out the fire. The malnourished Zouwu bursts forth from its crate and leaps away from the screaming humans, roaring out of fright, face scarred and battered. Skender dismisses the creature, knowing any attempts to capture it are futile, so he gathers his workers and boards the carriage. Tina sees Credence in the distance and calls out his name in vain. He is already too far to hear her.

Tina confronts Skender and demands whatever he knows about Credence’s objective in Paris. The man claims that he is looking for his family, and somehow that surprises Tina, despite the fact that she knew that Credence is an orphan who had been adopted by cruel and wicked Mary Lou Barebone. After the bearded male whizzes away with his merry band of freaks, she is confronted by a West African male, judging by his accent, and the two of them discuss Credence’s fate at a nearby cafe. The female Auror optimistically assumes that they’re after the Obscurial boy for the same reason: to save him.

But she is very wrong, and she finds this out the hard way when he disarms her and throws her into an underground cell, one of the walls covered in markings and notes. The brunette sighs, defeatedly, and falls into an agitated sleep.

***

Newt and Jacob successfully track Tina down to her current imprisonment, courtesy of Kama. Following the spectacle that the Zouwu makes in non-magical Paris shortly thereafter, the group of friends are forced to seek shelter in Nicolas Flamel’s house. They clamber through the doors of the empty house, the place is eerily quiet, but they get settled in nonetheless. The British wizard heads down into his case to acclimatize its newest addition, while Tina supervises the unconscious body of the Senegalese man and Jacob desperately searches for food.

He reappears a good twenty minutes later, curly mop of hair peeking through the opening and viridian eyes observing the brunette. The Muggle breaks the awkward silence with a loud grumble emitting from his stomach, a drop of sweat rolls down the side of his face as he becomes the centre of attention. Jacob laughs, sheepish, a hand coming up to wipe at his forehead. Newt fondly smiles, the bags under his eyes even more pronounced -- something Tina finally notices now that they are in decent lighting. Newt appears haggard and worn, but as she opens her mouth to speak, he interjects, “Well, I suppose we all could use some food right about now.”

The round man wants to offer his help, but the magizoologist is already out the door and by the time he turns around to talk to the American Auror, she, too, is sweeping through the hallway, muttering about needing to report to the French Ministry. Jacob throws up his arms in defeat and sits down to watch the dark-skinned man while he waits.

***

Newt knows he shouldn't have volunteered to go searching for food, seeing as he is having difficulty keeping his eyes open, but he doesn't want to stay in such a stuffy environment. Things have been tense between him and Tina, especially with the last couple of letters that were exchanged. She has been insistent in persuading him to visit New York, spouting pleasantries about missing him, and frankly, it made him uncomfortable. He fears the woman has taken a liking to him, but he cannot possibly return those feelings when his mind has been spinning out of control since his soulmate's identity was revealed. As he blearily peers at the rows of food in the small market, his green eyes glaze over and he stumbles into the shelf. He wheezes lightly, gripping his chest as he tries to catch his breath, but Newt doesn't think he can remain conscious for much longer. There is a delicate hand that rests on his shoulder in a comforting manner as someone says something in French to him, but he can neither understand the language or has the mental faculties to perform a translation spell. His eyelids slip closed and just as he is about to slump to the ground, he is faintly aware of someone propping him up, bearing the brunt of his weight.

When the magizoologist comes to, he is alone in a drawing room, laid out upon an elegant chaise and his coat is neatly folded on the side table. Newt glances around the room, evaluating the layout with a keen eye, looking for possible escape routes and objects to defend himself with. This is certainly not the first time he’s been taken without his consent and it won’t be the last -- not in his line of work. His brain stops its calculations when a fair-skinned witch with darkly coloured hair and vibrant blue eyes glides through the doors. She has a tray with tea trailing behind her in the air, a polite and somewhat cold smile graces her lips as she notes that he is awake. She presents him with a teacup, which he takes with a soft 'thank you,’ but then stares at it with apprehension. Her mouth twitches with a bit of humour.

“I assure you, Mr. Scamander, the tea is not poisoned or drugged. Although, it seems you could use a bit of a Pepperup potion.” Her English is fluent, but laced with a French intonation. Newt flushes slightly, ashamed to seen disrespectful in any manner.

“How do you--”

“You have become quite famous, no? An author who writes about magical beasts… It is not everyday one stumbles upon such a well-known person after all.” Her amusement is still apparent in her voice as she explains. In truth, it is because she has seen the files associated with him, but the man doesn’t need to know. Newt fondles the rim of the plate the teacup is on in an attempt to gather his bearings. “My name is Vinda Rosier. Just Vinda is fine though.”

He recognizes her last name, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pureblood families of Europe with an affinity for the Dark Arts; it instantly makes him wary, but he schools his face to not react adversely. Newt is polite if nothing else, so he says, “Then call me ‘Newt.’ No one really calls me by my full name unless I’ve done something unruly.”

“Very well… Newt.” There is a vague sense of distaste as his nickname rolls off her tongue, unused to such casual language, but it makes him grin a little. He takes a sip of the tea, Earl Grey, he pleasantly notes.

“Thank you for your help earlier. I don’t know what might have happened if I was taken by some less kind people.” The redhead confesses, grateful that Vinda seems like a reasonably decent person, and because of this, he doesn’t expect when Europe’s most wanted Dark Wizard waltzes into the room. Newt scrambles back on the sofa, dropping the teacup and desperately unsheathing his wand, but he knows he cannot possibly hold his own against Grindelwald. Vinda is fast to respond in order to prevent the cup from shattering on the ground with a Levitation charm. His body unconsciously trembles with the traumatic memories of the electricity that ran through his body in New York and his outstretched hand shakes with it, yet the opposing wizard makes no movement to attack him. Instead, the older man nonchalantly approaches and sits next to him. Green eyes anxiously meet mismatched ones for a moment, before skittering away to the small space between them. He chokes out, “W-what are you-- Are you going to kill me--”

A surprisingly warm hand encircles his raised wrist and gently lowers it down -- it’s such a drastic contrast from Newt’s last encounter with the other wizard that the touch causes him to take a sharp inhale. A thrum of soothing magic courses between their connected skin and Newt shivers pleasantly at the sensation, making a sly smile to cross the other’s lips. Grindelwald knows how much their interaction affects his soulmate; he watches as the colour returns to his cheeks, watches as the dark circles under his eyes recede slightly, watches how the fine lines smooth out across his face, watches as his breaths deepen and pupils dilate marginally. All of it is involuntary, but fascinating to witness. He, himself, can feel the hackles of energy rising within him, being in close contact with his soulmate; his magic sings beautifully in his veins.

“Now, Mr. Scamander, why would I kill my soulmate? Someone exclusively made for me?” He says slowly as if talking to a child, lips tilting upwardly ever so slightly. He brings Newt’s hand up to his mouth, laying a light peck on it, a flush rising high on the younger’s cheeks.

“Well, that’s not-- I mean, you didn’t seem to feel that way last we saw each other.” The magizoologist confesses, eyes cautiously peering into the heterochromic ones of Grindelwald. Neither of them notice when Vinda slips out of the room -- she knows her Lord needs space and peace to intricately weave his words into another’s mind.

The Dark Lord makes a sound of agreement, then proceeds to explain, “You see, I’ve looked into you after our… encounter in America. I admit I was only curious at first as to why Albus was so taken with you that he would valiantly defend you from expulsion, but then, I realized your potential, Mr. Scamander.”

Newt holds his breath and waits for the Dark wizard to continue. He doesn't dare interrupt.

“Who in this world would sacrifice so much for creatures that many deem to be beneath them and for what reason? It has been a long time since I have come across someone as dedicated as yourself to any cause. You want a better world, a world that will readily accept the wondrous nature of these beasts, but you must realize that world will not come to actualization without some sort of action, do you not?”

The magizoologist swallows audibly, managing to stay the trembling in his hands slightly, before he replies, “Perhaps, but that does not mean I would agree with the subjugation of any human being, regardless of their magical prowess.”

“Is that what they have been saying about me? Oh, how foolish.” The Dark Lord chuckles. “I do not seek tyranny over the non-magical, my boy. They are not lesser, simply of other value. I want to assimilate the magical and non-magical communities, so we can be free to be who were are, without fear of revealing ourselves and suffering the consequences of inane laws. There is no need for unnecessary bloodshed--”

Grindelwald pauses for a moment when he sees a disbelieving and affronted look flash over his soulmate’s face, “--but yes, some must perish in order for there to be change. Wouldn’t you want a world where your beasts can roam without worry of being hunted for sport or salvaged for parts? I-- no, we can make that happen.”

Newt has to break eye contact with the man because that is the only thing he truly desires. He is silent.

“Tell me, Newt, does my magic lie to you?” Grindelwald grasps his scarred hands again and it is such a contrast between unmarred hands and his own. The younger wizard lets out a small breath as he feels another pulse of magic run through their connection -- the sensation is an intense mixture of comfort, sincerity, and passion that he almost snaps his hands away immediately. The Dark Lord’s grip is firm, however. “Am I lying to you?”

The younger man has great difficulty coming up with a reply and Grindelwald knows why. It’s a feeling that reverberates deep within Newt’s chest -- something he tries desperately to ignore -- because the redhead realizes that Grindelwald is not lying; he has not lied the entire conversation. It didn’t mean that Newt could trust a word he was saying, the Dark Lord is known to twist his words, known to have a silver-tongue, capable of persuading almost anyone; he knows that he must still be vigilant.

At the same time, it is so difficult and somehow, everything feels so utterly right when he’s in Grindelwald’s presence. The blonde continues speaking -- voice hypnotic as ever -- eyes fixated on Newt’s softer face, whose gaze is still averted.

“Not to mention, what would your dear Ministry think of your soulmate being none other than Gellert Grindelwald?” Newt sneaks a glance at him. The sneer on Grindelwald’s face is filled with disgust and reality hits the magizoologist with the force of a charging Hippogriff. “Do you think they will idly stand by and let you go on your merry way? Or do you think they’ll imprison you, leave you to suffer in a cage, and then torture you? And what of your case, Mr. Scamander? They’ll use everything at their disposal against me, including you and anything you treasure.”

Green eyes widen and freeze at the cuff of his shirt, where their hands are still intertwined. He retracts his arm abruptly, stumbling to his feet -- almost growing dizzy from the vertigo -- and stutters, “No-- uh-- I can’t-- I can’t do this right now. If-- if you’ll excuse me...”

Newt grabs his coat, flings it around his shoulders, and flees the building without another word. His heart flutters because the cold, hard truth is staring at him in the face:

Grindelwald let him leave.

#grindelnewt #gellert grindelwald #newt scamander #fanfiction #fantastic beasts #fantastic beats and where to find them #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fantastic beasts fanfiction #vinda rosier #jacob kowalski #tina goldstein #fanfic #soulmate!au #soulmate!au where you see black and white until meeting them #let the angst continue #grindelnewt fanfiction #crimes of grindelwald #splashes of colour

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infernomoondivineenchantress · 5 years

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Warding Ritual for Spiritual Protection of your Home

This warding spell for spiritual cleansing and protection can be used for any physical space, but is especially important for your home. I recommend regular energetic hygiene practices of some sort for everyone.

Beyond the basics of smudging, this provides permanent protection wards that are powered by allies from the Spirit, plant, animal, and mineral realms. Warding can be dialed up or down to be as simple or complex as you choose, and customized to your particular practice.

Psychic and sensitive folks appreciate the sanctuary that a warded temple provides. The beauty of a magickal ward, is that you can charge it to perform in any way you desire. Much like programming a security system, you can choose who gets in, when and how they are invited to enter, and what sort of behavior is welcome during their stay.

This ritual spell-work will use four main components:

Clearing, and consecration by the four classical elements

Use of banishing pentagrams

Evocation of protective Spiritual Beings; Archangels, Gods/Goddesses, Animals, Ancestors, etc.

Creating spell-bottles for the four corners of the property as the anchoring ward.

Banishing Pentagrams: Bouncing the Trouble Makers, then Locking the Door

The pentagram is a five-pointed star that is an ancient symbol of balance, power and protection. Each point represents an element: earth, air, fire, water, and Spirit, perfectly interwoven.

A common usage of this symbol in magick includes its drawing in a specific pattern, called a “banishing pentagram.” The “all-purpose” banishing pentagram we’ll use for the clearing and protection of the home from unwanted spirits, is the one for the element of Earth, as that is most related to the physical safety of our bodies and buildings.

To draw the banishing pentagram, you begin in the lower left corner, at the Earth point, then draw upward to the Spirit point, and then on around in a clockwise fashion until the star is complete.

Think of it as pointing down to everything here in the material plane that you want to banish, then flinging it back “up” to the Spirit realms where they belong. When I draw the banishing pentagram during protection work, I think of it as bouncing the trouble-makers, by putting the key in the lock between dimensions, and locking the door behind them. The banishing pentagram is like turning the key in that lock.

Preparations and Acquisitions

Step 1: Get your house in order.

Begin with a physical cleaning and organization of your home. Chaos and filth in the material world mirrors into chaos and filth in the spiritual world. As above, so below; As below, so above. Think about it this way: In the material world, if you leave your dirty dishes laying around, and garbage everywhere, you invite the cockroaches, rats and parasites to move right in and have a feast. The nasty bottom-feeders of the world will just looooove to hang around your house.

Step 2: Get your Spirit in order.

The same is true of the spiritual realms. There are energetic equivalents of cockroaches, rats and parasites. When you live in an energetic miasma of your own mental and emotional funk – baneful self-loathing, guilty, shame-y, fearful, hateful, violent and angry turmoil – you make yourself delicious to the nasty bottom-feeders and parasites of the spiritual realm.

They, too, will looooove to feast upon YOU. The entirety of Witchcraft is there to help you get your head on straight, and become the terrifyingly effective, well-balanced, and powerful bad-ass that simply will not abide any exploitation.

To paraphrase the Rede: What you seek is within you… if you don’t find it there first, you will never find it in the outer world. So get to witchin’!

Step 3: Planning and Acquisition

You have some decisions to make about whose aid you will call into these wards, and what materials you will need as an anchor, amplifier and conduit to that power.

Materials:

4 glass jars with lids – one for each corner of your home.

Paint pens in the four elemental colors, or other decorations on the lids to signify which quarter of your home they will anchor.

Now, what to put in your jars? In the end you will need 9 ingredients that fit in each jar.

This is the part that is highly customized to your personal practice. You know how ceremonial magicians will call upon “The Watchtowers” of the four quarters? See these four ward jars to be a physical watchtower that you are building, and imbuing with powers from the three realms – Upperworld (or heavens,) middle world of the elements, and underworld.

Each ward jar will need:

1 stone or metal to amplify the upperworld Deity or Archangel of your choice.

1 stone or fetish to amplify the underworld animal spirit or ancestor of your choice.

1 stone for Air – with mental and communication nuances.

1 stone for Fire – with active, defensive, motivational nuances.

1 stone for Water – with emotional and relationship enhancing nuances.

1 stone for Earth – with protective, grounding, material nuances.

3 varieties of dried plant material – with any properties you’d like to bring to the party.

Upperworld Powers

Deities: You may choose to call on “Great Spirit” with a single ingredient – like a quartz crystal. Or choose something for two jars to be held by the Great Goddess (perhaps jet) and two for the Great God (perhaps amber,) if that is your style.

For a more polytheist approach, consider choosing a God and Goddess of the Upperworlds, and a God and Goddess of the underworld. In this case, research specific stones or items that are sacred to each of those Deities. You would then assign each Deity to one of the corners (and one ward.) Make sure that you also work out an appropriate offering or exchange in service in gratitude for their aid.

Archangels: OR – You may choose to work with the four archangels associated with the watchtowers in ceremonial magick. Choose either an individual stone for each angel, there are many to chose from that are sacred to each, or four of a single stone. Angelite, Celestite, or Selenite stones are my favorites for connecting to Angelic forces in a more general way.

Gabriel – Water – Copper

Michael-Fire – Sugilite, or an agate

Raphael – Air – Emerald or Malachite

Uriel – Earth – Amber

Underworld Powers

Spirit Animals: If you don’t already have a few Underworld Deities on the team, you may choose to work with four animals spirits: If you can ethically and legally obtain a fetish from the animals of your choice, do that. (tooth, claw, bone, shed, bit of fur or hair, feather, etc) Seek consent to work with any part of an animal. Or you may substitute an emblem to represent their powers in the working – one animal and item per jar, in the quarter you think they best relate. Here are a few examples:

Air – Birds; Hawk, Crow, Raven, Wren, Owl

Fire – Lion, Red Fox, Ram, Horse

Water – All fish; Salmon, Dolphin, Crab, Snake, Eagle

Earth – Bull, Stag, Goat, Bear, Beetle

Ancestors: OR you may choose four of your ancestors, or mighty dead, and ask if they will aid in guarding your home with you. Include a photo, a slip of paper with their name, or an object that will draw them near in their jar. Make sure that you also plan to make an appropriate offering in exchange for their aid.

Middle World Allies from the Four Elemental Planes

Choose a stone to amplify each element – you’ll need to acquire four of each (one for each jar.) Here are a few suggestions that I like…

Air – Citrine – Success, confidence, mental clarity

Fire – Pyrite – Shielding and protective, stirs ambition and focus, financial riches.

Golden Tiger’s eye – motivation, creativity, success

Iron Nail for Mars energies and protection, banishes enchantment.

Water – Blue lace agate – clear communication, peace, calm, tranquility.

Rose Quartz – universal love, trust and harmony, friendship, deep inner healing, and feelings of peace.

Earth – Green Aventurine – growth, luck, abundance, relieves anxiety, calms one’s emotions, provides comfort,

support, and balance.

Hematite – protection, grounding, de-stressing and mental/emotional balance.

Plant Allies:

Dried herbs and botanicals that have powers you’d like to bring into the home, all of these have protection qualities, but they have other nuances as well. Choose three varieties, and have enough for a teaspoon or so in each jar.

Rose petals or Lavender for love

White sage or Juniper for purification

Frankincense and myrrh for the balance of Divine forces.

Angelica root for angelic aid and guidance.

Cinnamon, Ginger, or Bay for fiery power and success.

There are literally hundreds of options to choose from – just know why you choose to use each ingredient and what power you wish it to bring to your home.

Step Four: The Cleansing and Warding Ritual

Assemble everything you will need on your altar in a central place in your home.

Open your ritual in your traditional way, lighting and awakening consecration tools and calling upon Spirit to be present as you normally would.

State your intention. Something like: I cleanse this home of all baneful influences and Spirits; I consecrate and ward this home to be a sanctuary of peace, abundance, health and safety. Only Love may enter in; only Love may emerge, for the Highest Good of all involved, harming none. So Mote it Be!

I like to have both a black and white candle on the altar. As I light the black candle to start, and charge it to absorb and nullify all baneful energies that are present. I will allow this candle to burn out completely in one burning.

Consecration by the Four Elements

This part should be repeated regularly.

Materials needed:

Tealight candle, a red one is even better.

Smudge bundle of a purifying herb, such as ceremonial white sage, cedar, lavender, palo santo, etc. Or a burning incense blend of Frankincense and Myrrh – but I recommend using a high quality resin incense stick, like these from Nature Nature Incense Company, so you can draw the banishing pentagram with it in the air.

A bowl of purified water, salted with sea salt

Air and Fire: Carry the burning smudge or incense with the tealight candle on a heat-safe plate or bowl to the front door. Open the door. Hold up the smoking smudge: With the same power and authority you would use to open the elemental gates, state: I consecrate this home by air and fire! Draw a large banishing pentagram in the air with the smudge/incense stick. Visualize all baneful energies, all harmful thoughts, communication, and actions being blown out the door.

Now, repeating that phrase I consecrate this home by air and fire! carry the smudge, wafting as you go, clockwise around the entire inside perimeter of your home. Wind up and down stairs and other floors in whatever way seems natural, always flowing clockwise. When you come to an outside window, door, mirror, fireplace or any other opening, draw the banishing pentagram.

When you arrive back at the front door, see the space sealed. State with power: This home is sealed by Air and Fire! So Mote it Be!

Water and Earth: Now, do the same with the salted water. Carry it to the front door, present it and state with power: I consecrate this home by Water and Earth! Dip your index finger of your projective (dominant) hand into the water and draw the banishing pentagram over the door frame and on the front door itself. See all baneful emotional and physical energies nullified and banished from the home.

Now, walking clockwise around the perimeter of your home along the same path, continue chanting, I consecrate this home by Water and Earth! while sprinkling the water on the floor as you walk. Stop and draw the banishing pentagram with the water over every window, door, opening and mirror.

When you arrive back at the front door, see the space sealed. State with power: This home is sealed by Water and Earth! So Mote it Be!

Return to the Altar, state for the second time: This home is cleansed of all baneful influences and spirits; I consecrate and ward this home to be a sanctuary of peace, abundance, health and safety. Only Love may enter in; only Love may emerge, for the Highest Good of all involved, harming none. So Mote it Be!

Light the White candle and charge it to fill the home with blessings.

Building your Protection Ward Jar

Have all your jars open and arranged so that you know which quarter they will go into eventually. Pick up each ingredient in turn. Touch it, connect, and seek consent to work together. Awaken the ingredient by name. Blow gently across it and tap it three times, saying: Awake, Awake, Awaken to your powers of__________. (Name of ingredient) lend your strength and amplify the protective ward of my home. With gratitude, blessed be! Drop it into the jar.

Begin with the Deities or angels of the Upperworld.

Invoke them into the stone or fetish that will anchor and feed their power into the ward. Pray in earnest for what aid you seek from Them and if you feel that agreement has been met, make an offering in exchange for this Aid. See the stone as a conduit of their power. Continue by invoking the Spirit animals or ancestors you are calling from the Underworld in the same manner. Lastly, include the plants and stones from the middle world of the elements.

Sealing and Weaving the Wards Together

When everything is in each jar – making nine individual ingredients, seal it tightly. Hold the jar in your hand, push power into the jar: Say: This jar is my protective Ward. May it stand guard in the (associated compass direction) quarter of my home, protecting this sanctuary of peace, abundance, health and safety. Only Love may enter in; only Love may emerge, for the Highest Good of all involved, harming none. So Mote it Be!

(Note that you’ve now repeated your intention three times.)

When all four jars are sealed, take up your wand, or with your index finger, tap each in turn while chanting “peace, abundance, health and safety” in a clockwise direction, weaving them together and raising a cone of energy. Drop the cone into the jars; visualized a bubble of power that the wards continue to feed.

The Work is done! So Mote it Be!

Setting the Protection Wards

Now, carry the jars to the four corners of your home, according to compass direction, as close as you can manage. All while visualizing that sphere of power that weaves them together expanding to envelope your entire home (and property). You can set them on the floor in the corner of the room behind furniture. If you’d like to carry them out to the four corners of your land, you may bury them there, but remember to set a marker should you ever choose to gather them for relocation and reuse.

Closing Circle

Return to the altar, thank and release all the attending Beings and energies that you’ve called, and close your ritual without formally deconstructing the “temple” as you might in a typical esbat or spellcasting. Allow both the black candle and white candle to burn out completely. This temple is now permanently erected around your property.

May it bless you and your family always,

BY HERON MICHELLE

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