#bud use those critical thinking skills I believe in you

[goodluckdetective]

Laughing at the durge romanced Astarion convo after the final fight when they discuss what’s next:

Astarion: I am now once again restricted to the shadows are you sure you wanna stay with me?

Durge: *spent a good portion of their life living in the sewers of a major metropolitan area*

Durge: Yeah, I can handle that.

[jimlingss]

can i request a yoongi chef au? i feel like yoongi's culinary skills are underrated, and I'm just a slut for chef aus in general

Anonymous said: Hi I saw ur request open posts for the new year!!! Could u write more yoongi stories🥺?!?! Your stories are so fantastic and i’m thirsty for more yoongi lolol🤪(hopefully u get enough votes to do more of him haha)

I feel like Jin’s the one who’s usually written as the chef, prob because he’s the better known chef in BTS, but you’re right! There’s gotta be more chef Yoongi!AUs, so here you go!!!

↳ Buttering Up

2.2k || 100% Fluff & Flirtation || Min Yoongi || Chef!AU

He clearly doesn’t know who you are.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

You hum, arms crossed as you eye him up and down. His black hair is practically a bowl cut, bangs covering his forehead. He’s in casual clothes — a taupe trench and black pants — looking like he’s ready for a trip to the grocery store rather than to cook. You wonder where this child crawled out from.

“You’re Yoongi?”

“That I am.” He approaches the door of the restaurant before plunging his hands inside his trench coat pockets. He fishes out the key and unlocks it, ushering you inside. “Hope you don’t mind that the restaurant’s closed down.”

You mind much more that he left you waiting on the cold city street for over ten minutes. You still can’t believe he was late. The audacity.

“I would’ve liked to see how you and your staff do your dinner service.”

“Unfortunately, we’re booked full for the next two months.”

You scoff — how doesn’t he know who you are? You’re a food critic who’s brought highly regarded restaurants to their knees through a review of five sentences. Your words alone has had rippled effects in the industry. Even the most talented chefs hold their breaths when you taste-test.

You make Gordon Ramsey look like Mother Teresa.

This Yoongi character is much too arrogant to not respect you. His new and upcoming restaurant might have raving reviews, but you’ll see what’s really going on.

“Sit wherever you’d like.”

There are no waiters in fancy garb, no hand sewn tablecloths made of silk. He doesn’t even pull out the chair for you. Instead, he’s off flickering on the lights of the restaurant while you choose a wooden table and chair right in front of his open kitchen — which is a horrible mistake in itself.

Open kitchens have always been a concept that has fallen short in your eyes. It’s much too noisy during dinner service and it gets smelly fast. Who actually wants to leave smelling like butter and oil?

It’s something you note as you get settled. 

Your coat drapes at the back of the chair and then you watch him. Yoongi’s taken off his trench as well, revealing a white long sleeve that he’s beginning to roll up to his elbows. He’s lean and his build is small, but somehow, he’s far from being scrawny. You gawk at the veins running up his forearm until he casually asks—

“Do you have a preference for wine?”

“I’m fine with any.”

He hums and comes over from the glass cabinet with a bottle of chardonnay and a wine glass. Yoongi pops the bottle easily and pours into the pristine glass with a mere tilt of his wrist. You watch the stream fill the glass a quarter way full.

“Is there a menu?”

“You don’t need one.”

Your brows raise. “Excuse me?” 

“If I were you, I’d put myself in the chef’s hands entirely and go with their recommendation.” He strides away, placing the wine bottle on the other table and then he turns with a glint in his eye and his mouth slightly crooked upwards. “Unless, of course, you don’t trust your chef.”

Oh. He’s confident. 

You can’t wait for his ego to blow up in his face.

“Fine then.” Your head tilts upwards. “What’s your recommendation then?”

He rounds his way to go into the kitchen that’s only a few meters away from where you sit. “Risotto with grilled chicken breast, topped off with caramelized onions, mushroom, grilled zucchini and sautéed tomatoes.”

You roll your eyes. What a basic dish. Isn’t it just rice? And with chicken breast?! Ew. It's guaranteed to be bland.

“Alright then.” You give a smile that might be more mocking than intended. “We’ll see how it tastes.”

Yoongi starts and while sipping the chardonnay, you take a good look at the restaurant from your spot. The place is rustic with a hint of contemporary. There’s exposed brick, wooden tables and chairs, and low, yellow lighting. There’s nothing particularly impressive about the place.

Soon, the sound of rapid, rhythmic chopping fills the space and then sizzling. You watch him intently. And you’re appalled. This Yoongi guy commits the worst cooking sins — his pan is cold when he starts throwing on ingredients. He cooks with olive oil. He overcrowds the pan. And he doesn’t even taste test once as he cooks.

What the actual fuck. 

There’s a line between arrogance and insanity, and he was crossing it.

You cringe when he starts using his metallic spatula on the non-stick skillet.

Is he even qualified to run a restaurant?!

Or maybe your assistant sent you information about the wrong restaurant? Or maybe this was not the guy you were supposed to be eating from. What if he poisons you or kills off all of your taste buds?! Your career would be ruined.

“Everything going okay?” you pipe up.

He glances up at you for the first time, eyes peering past his bangs. “Yep. Should be done in five.”

Food is simple. It either tastes good or it doesn’t. But the higher up you go and the fancier it gets, the more convoluted the food tastes with bland flakes of gold and the same old truffle shavings. That or it’s entirely boring and unoriginal. 

Or in this case, it might kill you. Which would be the first. And you’re not happy about it.

You feel unsettled when he plops the dish in front of you.

“Chef’s recommendation.”

“Thanks.”

You feel unsettled because it actually smells good. The aroma that fills your senses is flavoursome and buttery, and the thyme on top adds a fresh hint. You’re also unsettled because the plating isn’t actually bad. It’s been presented in a pasta bowl with wavy designs and the chicken breast is thinly and neatly sliced on top. It’s clean. It’s bright. It’s colourful.

But the most lethal poisons are the appetizing ones.

“Are you going to wait until it gets cold?”

You look up, brows raising at how he’s gotten comfortable in the chair across from you. Usually the chefs and waiters or waitresses like to skedaddle off and leave you to your own thoughts, too afraid to stand in your intense scrutiny. But Min Yoongi twists off the cap of his water bottle and casually downs it in front of you.

“I’m just looking at the presentation.”

“Tastes better than it looks,” he exhales after swallowing his water. 

Your expression becomes skeptical. But you take the silver spoon beside you anyhow and decide not to waste any more time.

The spoonful goes into your mouth. He watches you. You chew.

Instantly, you halt. 

The flavour hits your tongue. Creamy. Thick. But each individual grain of rice still has some firmness with a discernible texture. It’s been done al dente. There’s sweetness from the caramelized onions. An earthy flavour from the mushrooms. A zesty touch from the thyme. The chicken breast is somehow still juicy and the tomatoes burst on your palate. 

Suddenly, you’re thrusted back into your childhood. Those summer days spent in the cottage. Sun-kissed cheeks, dirtied knees, cotton dresses. You can hear your late grandmother in the kitchen. The way she calls out that it’s lunchtime. You can feel the comfort of family and love.

It feels like you’ve become the food critic in the ratatouille movie. 

You almost cry.

“What do you think?”

You clear your throat. You have to be honest. There’s no way you can lie about something like this. “It’s good. I think...this is the best risotto I’ve ever had. You cooked it perfectly and the toppings you chose were absolutely immaculate with this dish—”

You look up at him. Min Yoongi has an enormous, cocky smirk plastered across his stupid face.

It’s entirely off-putting. 

“But of course,” you quickly add, “there are many ways you could improve on it. You could add cilantro—”

“That would unnecessarily drown out the notes of thyme you taste,” he rebukes without a single beat and you scoff. 

“I noticed you didn’t add any pepper to it which could deepen the flavour.”

“Except this dish doesn’t need it,” Yoongi deadpans. “You don’t need to help me make any adjustments. I think I know what I’m doing better than you are. Just do your job and I’ll do mine.”

You suck in your cheek and narrow your eyes on him before you take another bite of the risotto while it’s still hot. “The food is delicious, but I must say, the company really spoils it.”

Yoongi’s slumped with one cheek resting in his hand, elbow on the table. He lazily stares at you with that smirk of his. “Really? Because if I didn’t know any better, you look nervous rather than annoyed.”

You scoff for the second time. “Why would I be nervous?”

“Maybe you didn’t expect the food to taste as good as it does and that makes me unexpectedly attractive,” he states plainly. You almost choke. You hit your chest as you sputter. “Or maybe you’re intimidated by me. I’ve gotten both before.”

You wipe your mouth with the napkin. “I’m afraid you’re not very perceptive, Min Yoongi.”

“Really? I think I am.” He smiles, the corners of his mouth quirked. “I’ve read your reviews before.”

You’re unamused. “Have you now? So you must know how difficult I am to satisfy.”

His smirk is sly and it’s jarring against his softer, more tender features. He’s smaller than the men you’re used to being around, but somehow it feels like he’s taken up the entire space of the restaurant. His focus on you is sweat-inducing. Even if you don’t want to admit it. 

“I don’t think so. You’ve just been eating shit food,” he says bluntly and your brow cocks. “You just need someone good you can trust. Someone who can take care of you properly.”

You’re not sure if the double entendre is purposeful. You wouldn’t put it past him.

“And is this someone you?”

Yoongi shrugs and sits back. “It could be.”

You grab your glass of chardonnay and gulp the rest in an effort to stop the conversation before it completely derails into a different direction. Yet, Yoongi’s half-lidded and darkened eyes stay on yours with each swallow. He’s unfazed. Unbothered. And that bothers you even more — bothered in a way that makes your face hot.

There’s a clack as you put the wine glass down and gasp. 

“I’m a professional.” You won’t be swayed so easily. “I can’t be bribed.”

“Of course.” He blinks as if he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. You glare at him and he gestures to the dish. “Please. Keep eating.” 

You finish the plate.

“Do you want any seconds?” he asks as he gets up.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Yoongi lingers, all too brazen and fearless. “If you don’t get any more now, you might have to come back for more.”

This time, you don’t try to hide the roll of your eyes. “That’s a presumptuous assumption.”

Yoongi smirks and his voice is husky. “After getting a taste from me, everyone comes back for more.

You scoff.

Min’s Restaurant Review

Three nights ago, I ate at Min’s Restaurant and met the main man in the kitchen. Unfortunately, he is a difficult person to interact with. I hope no one has the disservice of having to speak to the chef behind the dishes. Doing so may as well ruin the experience. Furthermore, his cooking methods are unconventional and unorthodox. It was completely shocking to watch.

However, and what I would consider most important, the food at Min’s Restaurant is spectacular. What Min’s Restaurant lacks in likeable personnel, they make up in the served cuisine. The meal that was prepared for me not only subverted my initial expectations, but overcomes, what I consider, what the food industry is lacking in this modern age exactly. Without unnecessary garnishes and ingredients, the flavours of Min’s Restaurant are both light and deep. It was an undeniable delight to consume and for the first time, I licked my plate clean. 

It is undoubted that the man behind Min’s Restaurant has the hands of god.

You should have pride.

But you’ve always loved good food. It’s your Achilles heel. It’s the one thing you’ve been passionate about since you were a kid. The reason why you love your job.

Even after writing such a review, you find yourself booking another reservation. But as a customer instead of a critic.

Of course, they were booked full for the next six months, largely thanks to your review, and they swiftly refused you with numerous apologies. But they called back not ten minutes later. You have a feeling that your name finally sunk into them — that he had something to do with it. 

That theory is confirmed when you arrive. The person in question is next to the seemingly nervous hostess as the noisy kitchen echoes throughout the busy restaurant. 

In the low lighting, Min Yoongi stands there with a relaxed smirk. As if he was expecting you. As if he knew you’d come crawling back to him to eat out of the palm of his hand, literally and figuratively.

You hate that he’s right.

“Welcome back.”

[drabbles-of-writing]

Reverse Au! Dump

Don’t mind my idea dumping here. Brain decided to have fun while I was at work and I have too many wips as it is, so… Thought I’d ask before I dumped, experience. Used morningmark’s comics as a base, so if you want reference. Now this isn’t all that well compiled, but here it goes.

~

Magic in the Other World is varied as it is crazy. So many styles over the generations and not a lot of organization. There are some that try to categorize it all, but that works as well as you’d expect. Some were lost, some erased, some weren’t passed down/recorded because “the power is all mine! Ahahaha!” It took a lot of time and collaboration, but eventually a sort of system was installed to help out. Still a lot of work to do, but its a step forward. Nowadays the term Wild Magic is generally reserved for those that aren’t all that well documented and understood.

Some Magics are very powerful and desirable, but also tend to be very high risk/high reward, kinda pass/fail, pretty literally Do or Die most times. So not a lot of people can use those or are even willing to. Story says this one guy named Odin hung himself on a massive tree by his own spear for nine days, no food water or rest in constant pain before he could unlock the secret of Runes. But it’s also said he gouged out his own eye to drink from the Well of Wisdom so… 

There are lots of different ways to channel magic too: wands, staves, jewelry, certain gems, familiars, potions, enchanted armaments, chants, scripts, etc. Each tool has its own advantages and disadvantages and play into a Witches’ style. Every Witch has at least two methods of spellcasting. Only children have one. Haven’t thought of how Luz gets her Palisman though. Maybe its one of those magic Artifacts like Dr. Strange’s cloak, Elder Wand, Thor’s hammer, or a Green Lantern’s Ring. Something that can’t be recreated because the secret is lost, materials no longer exist, too hard/dangerous to make, accident that can’t be recreated, etc. Happens more often than people like.

Camilla is sometimes called the Blue Witch. She’s a healer by heart and trade, but push her and she will become a one Witch Battleship. Bismark who? Aaaaand she just deleted a whole battalion. And the fortress behind them. Hide me. There are the very rare occasions, like count on one hand rare, when someone near and dear to her heart is in trouble that she takes up her other job. She’s especially terrifying when she decides to torture, those who know how to heal the body know best how to break it. Many shades of Blue, some are very close to Black. She doesn’t necessarily hate Humans exactly, but doesn’t have the highest of regard from past experiences.

Luz has training and is a proficient Witch for her age. Camilla and her father were adamant about having a general knowledge/skillset alongside her specialized skill. Jack of all trades and a master of none, still better than a master of one. She has gone through the system for her magic with varying success. Oracle magic? Zero talent. Bard classes? She can play an instrument, but can’t sing at the same time. When she does sing she tires too hard and messes up. It’s only when she doesn’t try, like absently singing along with a song or playing by her heart, that she’s good at it. Beasts? Can use them, but would rather play with them. Bleeding heart and all that. She does have a good handle on healing magic partly due to Camilla drilling necessary skills into her and partly osmosis. Her father arranged for some CQC lessons from an old friend of his which the girl loved. You get the idea. It wasn’t until she discovered Glyphs that she found her niche and her skills took off. Glyphs are one of those ‘eccentric’ or 'archaic’ styles since they haven’t been used in so long after being lost and are barely understood. She still has a long way to go, but she is on her way.

Luz never really had much in the way of friends, partly cuz of high profile parents which leads to certain pressures and a target on her head, partly because of her magic style and personality, and partly because of the trouble been going on. Luz grew up her whole life with this tension of a group of anarchists trying to burn society that’s just trying to do the right thing. The anarchists started small, but have been a growing problem the past few decades with talk how to 'reshape the world’ in not a good way. Anyone with critical thinking skills can tell this is a bad idea, but they are too brainwashed to notice. They harass anyone who doesn’t follow their rhetoric and attack anyone who even questions them. Luz’s parents put a real kink in a lot of their plans for years, which makes Luz guilty by association. 

Luz got caught in one of those sudden larger scuffles and was accidentally chucked/blown through a portal created by an attempted tactical retreat that went off course. Hence why she can’t go home because she hasn’t learned how to do portals yet. Those are high level anyway so how did these guys pull it off so easily? Luz has a hard time blending in obviously. Learning how to use a phone was a fun endeavor. Internet was a trip. Luz is amazed how these people can do all this cool stuff without magic. Keep a low profile sure, she can pass off as a weird out of town kid. Keep the beanie on, underperform in gym and stuff because some things don’t change, like genetics. Someone sharp eyed will see discrepancies. The Beanie has a small Glamor spell built in that covers her witchy traits but she forgot the ears which is why it sits like it does. Luz can erase memories in case she has an accident, but it’s less of a 'remove my face from this picture with a scalpel’, and more of a 'lemme just hack off the past hour or three from your brain with an axe.’ If she tries to take any more then she starts burning into some more dangerous territory and those Wiped are groggy and disoriented for a while after already. Then the magic attacks start happening and her heroic instinct/anti-bystander complex kicks in and there goes that. It runs in the family so Camilla isn’t surprised in the slightest when she finds out.

“Oh titan, why did you curse me with another me?” “I’m right here Mami!”

Eda has a shack very akin to Grunkle Stan. Lots of junk that Lilith can’t believe that people are dumb enough to buy. She’s also involved in some not so legal dealings on the side. Well, Eda isn’t actually hurting anybody and the tax dollars she should be paying would only go towards some politicians’ next yacht or another pointless overseas 'investment’ instead of where it’s supposed to go so. Eda does give some good intel on occasion and a place to vent so Lillith overlooks her. Lil’s more of the secret police for witches and a petty crook isn’t part of her job anyway. Eda understands Luz’s predicament and is willing to help. The cover story is that Camilla work in hospitals and has to work crazy hours while her dad passed away so is living with Eda for a while. King is that kind of critter that grew up weird and acts like ten different animals all the time.

Gus is the nerdy kid who infodumps on everybody, even if they’re not listening. Loves anything fantasy/sci-fi related and plays Minecraft too. A good kid at heart, but needs some social skills. Keep him away from anything more sugary than tea. Luz learned a lot listening to him. Not all of it is entirely useful, but still. Some of his ramblings give her some good ideas for magic and stuff, like putting Glyphs on cards.

The Blights are the cool rich kids obviously, and have some discipline and social issues. Big family name makes them intimidating for normies and a meal ticket for the unsavory. These kids need real friends. They decided to act out to get some attention from the parents who then decided to ignore them. “If you’re going to act like a child tantrum, get treated like one.” Ed is perfect for Drama classes, if he were allowed to partake. Can’t decide what Em is great at, hacking perhaps? Amity’s car is an inheritance from the only family to treat her as such Twins aside, even if she’s too young to remember it. She only remembers that she has feelings surrounding the car. All three of them were pretty impressed with Luz for standing up to them, calling them out on their shit, and not giving a crap about their family name. Being treated like a normal person is pretty weird. Can we get her to do that again?

Amity tried dating Boscha once, didn’t work out very well. Boscha is still hurting over Amity’s comment of “I’d rather go date the new weird kid (Luz) than go back to you.” It’s one of the reasons she goes after Luz. She has that kind of Bud personality from Spider Man, feels lesser and so acts out so much. 

“Wow, this new Witch is amazing. Not as cool as the original Witch.”

“What is it with the Witch with you?”

“Oh, she’s a hero. Looks out for the city and the little guy. She inspires me. Makes me want to be a bigger person. *sees Luz* What’s up Luz-er?”

~

And that’s what I got right now. I know there was more, but it’s lost to the void right now. Might come back later, maybe not. Lemme know what you think.

............

DAMN you weren’t lying when you said you had an info-dump this is *chefs kiss* you got me intrigued now

[polymarinelove]

okay y’all listen up:

if you came to freeform’s siren for the ot3 or if you just loved the ot3 and are Not Okay™ about the current turn of events with the show, I have a show that will be a balm for your battered soul:

leverage

here are some of the perks:

ragtag team of “ex” thieves using their skills to take down the rich and powerful (white men)

epitome of the found family trope (this show basically CREATED the trope, I’m legitimately serious, deadass I believe they were the ones that truly created it) (edit: obviously I’m exaggerating but you catch my drift)

C A N O N polyamorous relationship made concretely canon by the last episode (although there are themes of it throughout the entire series)

also lowkey highkey the writer has been writing fanfiction for the ot3 on ao3 for the past decade but won’t say what his handle is. and no, I’m not even joking:

“villian” of the week storyline that never gets stale

after every con they make sure to dramatically gloat in the background, just in sight of their corrupt mark(s)

there is never a boring episode. no dips in content quality.

the writers didn’t believe in cliffhangers for season finales. they believed if you had to rely on shock factor or cliffhangers to keep the audience you weren’t doing it right

the Smart™ character is Alec Hardison, a black foster kid turned greatest hacker in the world. he loves and respect his nana above all else. (his first major crime was making the bank of iceland pay for his nana’s medical bills). he is PROUD geek (“age of the geek, baby”) and is can be emotional and there is nothing wrong with that (no toxic themes of black man hyper masculinity here, people). he is allowed and is unapologetically himself and on MANY occasions described (by his ot3 partners as well as the rest of the team) as the smartest man they’ve ever known. he is canonically romantically involved with parker for the last two seasons but he is also coded to be in a budding relationship with eliot (no toxic heteronormativity here either)

parker, canonically the greatest thief in the world, has many characteristics of being neurodivergent (possibly autistic) but is N E V E R made fun of or treated differently by her team because of this. she has trouble with emotions and connecting with others and was originally set up as the crazy, quirky girl character but the show was quick to set her up as SO MUCH MORE than that. her team helps her feel again after a rough, childhood and she learns to grift like a pro. shes baby and I’d die for her. she’s extremely smart and is built up to be the next mastermind of the team. her two love interests accept her for who she is and love everything about her. she is also bisexual (DONT @ ME I WILL TAKE THIS TO THE GRAVE THERE WERE TOO MANY HINTS AT IT)

eliot spencer, the hitter. basically is the brawn of the group that takes the hits for his team and fights if there is trouble or if they can’t just get in and out stealthily. started off as an 18 year old soldier with an idealized view of the world, slowly got involved with dubious military involvement and eventually turned into a hit man for hire. made many questionable choices but he eventually got out of that life. he HATES guns and when in fights, always takes his opponent’s gun away, dismantles the clip and throws it off to the side. despite all of this, he is N E V E R ONCE the toxic white manly man with a tragic past trope. never. yeah, he’s made major mistakes. yes, he has a tragic past. but that doesn’t define him. he attones for his past and tries to be better but it’s not a major plot point to overwhelm the viewer with manpain. he sometimes sleeps with other people but always cares about his lovers and pays attention to them (also lowkey sometimes the gender isn’t mentioned about past lovers so 👀👀👀 it’s Noted™). he is sure of himself and has the emotional stability that we wish bucky barnes would have. he teaches the women in his life how to fight and protect themselves. he loves cooking and uses his passion for it to teach parker how to feel (because cooking made him feel again after his terrible past). he’s so IN LOVE with parker and hardison- those heart eyes can be seen from the fucking MOON

sophie deveraux. grifter. english accent. EX art thief (“why does no one take that seriously!!!). wants to be an actress but cannot act for her LIFE unless she’s breaking the law. the mom/aunt of the group. she’s sexy, not just for her age- she’s sexy, period. she talks parker through grifting situations and teaches her how to interact with other people. I’d trust her with my secrets, but not with any valuables.

nate ford. the mastermind. an ex insurance agent. his son died after his company wouldn’t pay for his treatments. became a drunk, but the team gave him a reason to live again. his alcoholism could create problems for him, but it’s not glossed over at all in the show and is constantly addressed. he could be a dick and they didn’t excuse that. he and sophie have a relationship that takes three seasons to finally become something, and in the end after a lot of dancing around it becomes a healthy, loving relationship. he teaches parker to be the next mastermind, but doesn’t DREAM of leaving until he’s sure his kids parker, hardison and eliot will be good on their own. he could have easily been the broken white man trope but wasn’t. also, his “let’s go steal a _____” sctick never gets old- the bigger the thing they steal the better it gets, I promise.

literally, this is the best show of all time. it has it all: taking down rich white men, the found family of your DREAMS, a canon ot3

message my sideblog @leverage-ot3 for any questions or comments. you won’t regret watching this show, I promise.

(I’m tagging some other fandoms as well that I think might enjoy this show)

IMPORTANT EDIT:

the show aired from 2008-2012 (five seasons), but the show runners have reached a critical rage point about corporations today and have RENEWED IT for a sixth season (and possibly more)!!!

[n3rdybird]

Healing Touch

Written for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​‘s Hamilton Lyric challenge!  This story went through so many re-writes and changes, god I hope this mangled mess is okay, haha.  My prompt was the line “My name’s been through a lot.  I can take it.”

Vikings

HeahmundxReader

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Some blood, talk about Church, self-flagellation etc (referenced, not described in depth) suggestive language, oogling a man of the church (haha)

Gossip was always a funny thing in small villages.  Perhaps you had not been thinking clear when you established your home on the edge of the holy town of Sherborn. Nestled in the woods near a stream, you were both close enough to the town to visit for supplies but far enough away that your arrival stirred up a bit of mystery.

 As an unmarried woman with no known family, you already raised a few brows of the more prominent families.  But it was your talent for herbalism that set most of the tongues wagging.  The smallfolk were more pragmatic towards your skills.  They could overlook your marital status if it meant well-made salves and tonic for their aches and illnesses. With their payments, usually traded goods that you could not make yourself, and the bounty of the forest, you rarely had any need to visit the town marketplace.  Which only furthered the mystique around you.

 When you did grace the town with your presence, most of the townsfolk gave you a wide berth, allowing you to shop in peace.  Even the merchants seemed to deal in your favor, giving you more than was due for your wares.  You heard the rumors.  Half the town believed that you were a cunning woman and would bring misfortune to any who wronged you.  The other half sang your praises, that you were even more skilled than the clergy.

 So it was to your great surprise as you kneeled to rearrange your parcels in your basket that a shadow loomed over you. You glanced upward, schooling your features as you saw the Bishop of Sherborne himself, Heahmund, standing over you.

You nodded your head in greeting before standing, slinging your basket over your shoulder.  The bishop was a popular man, known for his devotion to God as well as to the sword.  And lesser-known, his propensity for women.  Mostly gossip, but living as you had, you knew there was at least a kernel of truth to any rumor.  His handsome face did not help, nor the way his stubble gave him a rakish air.  He was a far cry from the average holy man, fat and week from a sedentary lifestyle.

 “Your Grace,” you greeted and dipped into a shallow curtsey, giving the most powerful man in Sherborne due deference for his position.

 “You know who I am?” he asked.

 “Of course.  One could scarcely live in Sherborne without knowing of its Bishop,” you answered.

 He nodded in agreement, before gesturing for you to walk with him.

 “Please allow me to escort you home if you are finished for the day,” he offered. 

 You had no intention of spending any considerable time with the church official, but you erred on the side of caution and walked in step next to him.

 “I apologize for not making my acquaintance sooner, I meet most of my parishioners on Sundays for mass,” he said, keeping his eyes forward. 

 You hummed noncommittally, but inside, you blanched. Heahmund's statement seemed polite on the surface, but you knew he was angling for an answer to why you had yet to make an appearance in church.  In all honesty, it wasn’t that you weren’t Christian.  You were, in your own way.  It was the idea that one had to go to church to be considered religious that you didn’t agree with.  So you had to pick your words carefully.

 “Well then I am pleased that I’ve had the chance to meet you today,” you said, avoiding the point about the church, focusing on his former words rather than the latter.  Heahmund cut his eyes towards you, clearly noting your evasion.

 “Quite.”  His tone was sharp and you felt as if you failed an unknown test.

 The conversation dwindled to Heahmund telling bits of history about the town or gesturing to points of interest as the two of you left town.  You were glad when you walked past the boundary of Sherborne. You were used to the curious stares when you were alone, but with the Bishop as company, it seemed the gazes were amplified.  The gossip mill would soon be in a frenzy.  The path home took you past the open fields and into the shaded forest along a winding path.

 “Living alone, so far from town, must worry you,” he noted.

 “Why would I be worried?”

 “Well a woman such as yourself, living alone.  You would be far better protected living in town.  Roaming bandits, animals, or even the occasional Viking incursion.”

 “I worry as much as the next, I suppose, but living in town has never appealed to me.  Not to mention it is easier to collect wild plants,” you explained.

 “Yes, I’ve heard of your skills.  Where did you learn?”

 You paused your walk, noticing a crop of comfrey sprouting from the ground.  You knelt in the dirt, brushing the purple buds with your fingertips.  Too young.  You’d have to wait a few more days to harvest.  You stood up, wiping the dirt off your skirt.  You glanced back at Heahmund who had stopped several paces away.  He was watching you closely but looked away as soon as your gaze met his.

 “Family mostly, I’ve never learned formally.  I’ve found that there is much in nature that can help or hurt.  It only takes a practiced hand to know the difference.”

 Heahmund stiffened, his hand resting on his sword.  His gaze turned to stone as he eyed you critically. 

 “And do you only heal?  Or do you hurt?  I admit this meeting was no coincidence.  There have been rumors that reached my ears.  Half the town believes you to be a cunning woman, a witch, and I do not suffer pagans under my watch.”

 You swallowed.  You shouldn’t have disregarded the gut feeling you had the moment he began speaking to you. If the Bishop found any fault in your words, he could kill you now and be firm in his belief that he was in the right in his duty as a man of God.  There was no one around who could come to your aid, not that any would stand against the warrior.

 “Do you deny it?”

 “Perhaps you could tell me which rumors have graced your ears, so I may better defend myself.”  The words you spoke were calm and confident, the complete opposite of how you were feeling. The sounds of the forest melted away and all you could hear was your rapid heartbeat as you tried to control your fear.

 Heahmund tilted his head as if trying to suss out your guilt or innocence.

 “‘Which’ rumors?  You are aware of what people say about you?”

 “My name’s been through a lot.  I can take it.  Women are always subjected to gossip, especially unmarried ones.  I would be a fool to believe otherwise.  I hardly see the point in trying to change someone’s opinion of me.  People do not like to be wrong.”

 “Lord Oswald has claimed that you hold dark influence over his daughter, causing her to act out and defy her father.  And that you placed a curse upon him, causing illness.”

 At the mention of the man, you clenched your fist.  You had first met his daughter when she visited you, draped in a cloak to hide her face. The purple bruise that spread across her cheekbone like a wine stain caused your immediate hatred towards the man she called father.  You may have let out a few choice curse words as you treated the abrasion and consoled the young woman.

 “That man is a pig.  I couldn't care less what he thought of me.  As for his illness, perhaps he should be blaming his poor diet.”

 “Lord Oswald is an upstanding and-”

 “Upstanding?  That man would sell his daughter to the vilest devil on earth if it meant he’d get more power!” You blurted the words out, angry that that man would be considered upstanding.

 “His daughter is his by rights, and as such may marry her to a man of his choosing. That is the duty of daughters,” the Bishop intoned, repeating the words drilled into him by years of church teachings.

 You scoffed at his words, biting back harsh curses.  Duty, you’ve never cared for that word.

 “Duty, what a hollow promise.  Is it not a father’s duty to protect his daughter? And not to lay a hand on her in anger?”

 Heahmund’s face softened at that particular bit of information.

 “Did you place a curse on Oswald?” he asked again, his voice low and stern.

 “I wouldn’t have to.  That man will drink himself into an early grave,” you spat.  You nodded to where his hand was still resting on the pommel of his sword.

 “So what is your judgment?  Is thinking a man worth less than a pile of shit enough to die? Or not congregating with hypocrites on Sunday who profess their goodness only to hit their wives or cheat on their husbands or sleep with clergymen?  Are those my crimes?”

 The last bit of course was aimed at the Bishop.  He was taken aback by your words.  He too knew the hypocrisy of humans, he had seen it firsthand in others and himself.

 “Regardless of any sin committed, man can repent and ask forgiveness.”  It was what he told himself every time he failed in his duty to God.

 “But I am judged by the words of one man, and that’s enough to condemn me?  And what of all the kind words said in my favor? Because they are from the smallfolk they aren’t as important? But as soon as someone with ‘prestige’ speaks horrible lies, you must come running to investigate.  Like a trained hound set out by its masters.”

 Dismissing the warrior bishop, you shook your head.  Rigid, sanctimonious, and arrogant.

 “If you are going to kill me, kill me.  I do not wish to suffer your presence any longer.”

 When Heahmund did not speak but removed his hand from his sword you gave him a terse nod.

 “Enjoy the rest of your day, your Grace.”

 Heahmund watched as you walked away, your skirts swishing behind you.  You had spoken the truth.  He had no interest in you until the upper echelon started their complaints.  He was all but demanded to get to the bottom of it.  As much as your words stung, you were correct. He could have denounced the hearsay as soon as they were spoken, owing to the fact that smallfolk all but revered you.  So he bowed under the demands to keep his place secure.

 You, however, were not what he expected.  Young, unmarried, and striking.  He thought you might be an older widow, with the talk of your skills.  Instead he got you, a fiery, educated young woman, who wasn't afraid of speaking her mind.  It was almost refreshing to have someone not fawn over him.  Yes, you treated him with respect but did not trip over yourself to please him.  You had no problem criticizing him.

 He rubbed the pommel of his sword, worrying the raised designs with his thumb.  You were interesting indeed.

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

 After you left the bishop to mull over your words, you had hurried home, half expecting him to come after you and take you in for your supposed crimes. When he did not follow, your steps became shaky and you found yourself stumbling into the small cottage you called home.  You flung the latch closed and leaned against the door, trying to regain your wits.

 You had been accused of crimes, as untrue as they were.  The Bishop himself was sent to investigate.  And you had thrown a tantrum, insulting him and his life.  The next few days you did not venture far from your home, fearing retribution.  You debated leaving your home, going to another area.  But you tired of running away.  As the days passed, you breathed a little easier.  No one had come to take you away, and the smallfolk continued to do business with you.

 After a particularly grueling morning over a cookfire, and setting a poor child’s broken arm, you were exhausted.  With the hot sun overhead, you plucked at your tunic as it stuck to your skin.  A dip in the water would do nicely.

 Gathering your satchel and clad in a lightweight chemise, you began your trek to your preferred bathing spot.  A small bend in the river where the water calmed and you could bathe in relative peace.

 Placing your bag within reach of the water, you glance around before unlacing your chemise, letting it fall to your feet.  The water was cool, refreshing on your overheated skin.  You ducked under the water, brushing your wet locks away from your face.  You wiped the water from your eyes before reaching for your soap to wash away the grime of the morning.

 “Perhaps you are not a witch, but a water nymph from Greek stories,” a familiar voice called out.  You spun and stared gobsmacked at the bishop sitting near the edge of the water.  You bristled at the nerve of him openly staring as you bathed.

 “Shouldn’t a man of the cloth look away when a woman is bathing?” you retorted, wishing for the first time that the water was not so clear.

 “Ah, but you have already judged me a hypocrite, would that not be proving you wrong?” he replied but turned his head away from you.

 You grumbled, a bit irritated that he had thrown your own words back in your face. Making your way to the shore, you all but snatched your chemise with outstretched fingertips, and dressed with haste.

 “Is there something you need, your Grace?” you huffed out, irritated that he had spoiled your bath. You grabbed your satchel, swinging it wildly over your shoulder, hitting his chest with the soft leather.  You immediately dropped your pack in alarm when he hissed in pain.

 “I came to apologize,” he said between clenched teeth.  “Would that be amiable, or would you prefer to hit me with your bag again?”

 The weight of your bag should not have caused him any pain, especially if it caused him to grit his teeth.  You peeled back his tunic and gasped at the sight of several scratches adorning his chest.  Though most were superficial, a few deep welts drug across the expanse of his skin.

 “What on earth happened?”

 Heahmund jerked away from your grip.

 “It’s nothing to worry about," he said, brushing off your concern.

 “I’d ask you not to lie to me.  Take off your shirt.”

 When he didn’t follow your command you rolled your eyes.

 “Lord save me from bullheaded men,” you muttered, reaching for his shirt.

 “You can either take off your shirt, or I will cut it off.  It matters not to me what you choose.”

 Heahmund raised a brow at your demands and pulled his tunic over his head with a grunt of pain.  Kneeling in front of him, you tried to not ogle the Bishop as you took in his wounds.  Most were already scabbed over, others dark with crusted blood.  You curled your lip in dismay.  You traced your fingers over his skin, the newer cuts crossing over old scars.  Some of the deeper gashes were warm to the touch, a sign of infection.  You looked up, his eyes watching your hand as it moved across his chest before looking at you.

 You pulled your hand away, clucking in a scolding manner.  Rifling through your pouch, you pulled out a strip of cloth and some salve.  You dipped the cloth into the cool water, wringing out the excess before blotting at the wounds.

 “You would think someone with your knowledge would know to treat cuts, no matter how trivial,” you said, as you washed the crusted blood away.  “You look like you got in a fight with a cat,” you joked.

 “Thorns actually,” he amended.  When you looked at him confused, he clarified.

 “My self-penance, along with asking for your forgiveness.”

 You paused in your ministrations, horrified at the thought.

 “You believe God would want you to harm yourself to seek forgiveness?”

 “It brings me clarity, to better understand what path God wishes me to take.”

 You shook your head before reaching for the salve.

 “What is there to understand?  God gave us free will, for us to make the choices in our lives.  Maybe making mistakes is part of his plan?” you said softly, applying the paste with deft fingers.

 “I fear I make too many mistakes, stumble too often in my path,” Heahmund confessed.

 “You were right.  About Oswald and the rumors.  His daughter confirmed it in confession.  She was quite worried about you when she heard I came to visit you.”

 You shook your head, sighing.  The last thing you wanted was to cause more trouble for the young girl.

 “I hope you told her she was not at fault.  I can take care of myself.  Please tell her not to worry.”

 He took your hand in his, his calloused fingertips running along yours.  Your hand was calloused, but not from holding a sword.  You had burn scars from hot pots, tiny cuts from mishaps with knives. Your hand that he had accused of witchcraft and misdeeds was the hand that wiped away his blood and applied medicine, something he did not deserve.  A healing hand.

 “Choices and mistakes shape our lives, make us who we are.  My life brought me here, to Sherborne.  As your choices brought you to me.  It was your choice to let, rather than kill or imprison me, something I am grateful for,” you said matter of fact.

 Heahmund laughed.

 “We shall see if that works in my favor.  Provided you didn’t poison me,” he said, nodding towards his chest.

 You rolled your eyes and licked your fingertip, still coated in salve.  Heahmund’s eyebrows jumped in surprise at your action.

 “Well if it were poison, now I would die as well.  So fear not your Grace, you should be on the mend quickly,” you jested with a smile.  Heahmund returned your smile with one of his own.  You felt your stomach flutter at the expression on his face, and the threat of a blush warmed your neck.

 He brought your hand up to his lips and planted a warm slow kiss on the back of your knuckles.  The rough brush of his stubble sent a zip of desire down your spine.  This was dangerous.  This was a mistake in the making.  But you found yourself caring little as you stared into his eyes.

 “Please, allow me to repay you.”

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Whumptober Day 24: Silently We Endure

Summary: Written For Whumptober Day 24. A thousand years after the passing of his Rider, Toothless has found him again. This person is both familiar as well as completely foreign to him, but the kind of past he's left behind as he lives with Toothless and the other dragons matters little. He has found him again and that is enough for Toothless.

Rating: Teen and up

Characters: Hiccup, Toothless, Stormfly

Pairing: None

Words: 2 787

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: "Forced Mutism”

Whumpee: Hiccup

Author’s Notes: MY 100TH SUBMISSION TO AO3!!!!!

Written for the Whumptober prompt: "Forced Mutism" But instead of showing the whumpee being made mute, I have it as something that is just there.

Constructive criticism is appreciated!

Enjoy!

Ao3

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Just like any other day nowadays, today is unbearably hot as well. The sun beats down on the Earth and Toothless finds little solace in the shade, where it is only slightly less hot.

It is late in the afternoon and still the heat hangs on, stubbornly refusing to leave and making all of those trapped within it suffer. He finds himself preferring the chill of the North from so long ago.

It is cooler, though. It is just slightly cooler than it was hours ago at midday and that is the only reason why he is outside in the shade now and not in the cave he and his Rider have made their own.

He's an old dragon. He shouldn't be exposed to such heat when there are places he can lie in that are much more suited to his needs, but his Rider is out here and even after all this time he will still do anything and everything for him.

Now that he thinks of it, he should probably check up on him again and make sure he isn't doing anything reckless when he should be busying himself with making their home livable.

Unlike him, Hiccup isn't old. He's still 18-years-old, a young man, and therefore much too energetic and prone to foolishness.

The home he's supposed to be making liveable is an enormous cave system on the side of a mountain. While the outside is much too hot during the day, the temperature inside the cave is much more stable and thus easier to endure than the outside.

It's a dragon's kind of home, quite suitable for someone who is more dragon than human himself. And safer for him than any human settlement can be, too.

The details are lost on Toothless, but Hiccup wants to somehow bring cooler air into their home through the use of the sun. He has no idea how he's going to accomplish that, but that is the gist of it.

Using humanity's current technology, he wants to create a house specifically for plants, too, a place for animals, a dragon nursery, and so much more. Toothless isn't sure how this will all work, but he believes his Rider capable. This Hiccup will not remember it, but he has proven himself capable of great things before.

He's trying to create an entire village and he's doing it all on his own. Of course, the dragons present are willing to help in any way they can, but much of it is still Hiccup's work. His brain work, at least.

Deciding to get up, Toothless stretches his stiff body, his back and joints popping loudly, his wings in particular before he exits the chamber he and Hiccup have made their own.

There isn't much yet, just the mere beginnings of a home, but it's enough for them for the time being.

The cave system is extensive and it is roomy. Some of the chambers have a sky pocket that allows the light of the sun to come in and it's in such a room that Toothless finds his human.

It is large, dusty, and sandy with little plant life, and in the center is Hiccup with an adolescent Rumblehorn and Toothless remembers him well. He and Hiccup, still insisting on saving every dragon in need, saved this one about a week ago. He has been injured and Hiccup has been nursing him back to health.

He is with him now and tending to his wounds, changing the dressings. Stormfly is there as well, patiently holding his satchel with medical supplies in her beak.

Rumblehorns have thick armor covering their entire bodies except for their underbellies. Hiccup is tending to a wound on the side of this one's belly, using something that sticks to keep the dressings in place.

Toothless' entrance draws Hiccup's attention and he smiles before waving. The dragon responds by coming over with a skip in his step and cooing before he headbutts his Rider and nuzzles him, an affectionate gesture that Hiccup gladly returns with a breathy laugh.

He points towards the wound and Toothless sees what Hiccup wants to show him. The Rumblehorn is well on the mend and the injury looks better than it did when they first found him.

Rumbling proudly at the human's skill, Toothless nudges his back before he lets him work, Hiccup waving him off.

He can practically see it on his face, the "okay, Bud, see you later". He can still hear it in his voice, too, and that while Toothless has never heard him speak in this life before.

His Rider, he can't talk and not by choice.

Though he was walking away, Toothless pauses to watch him get back to work, spotting the faint scar on his throat. The people who did that to him are unknown to Toothless and they should count themselves lucky for that.

"I talk too much," Hiccup had once told him. Or rather, signed to him as he uses his hands to speak now. It's like the hand signals the Dragon Riders of old once used, but much more elaborate. Old as he is, Toothless still manages to understand him even now. His hands have always been very talkative.

Toothless will never understand the reasoning behind a human hurting another human, let alone take away a physical part of them so important to their everyday life.

The dragon returns to his human's side again, who glances at him with a brow raised in confusion. His face is still just as expressive as he remembers.

Lying down next to him, Toothless watches the rest of the treatment instead of going back to the slightly more comfortable room like he originally intended. Hiccup reaches, left hand holding the new dressings in place and a metallic hand comes to land on his head for a quick petting.

Much like his Viking, this one has lived a life already.

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Toothless always keeps an eye on Hiccup, feeling more responsible for the much younger one than ever before.

But in the event that they're not together, they still have a way for him to call out to his dragon.

As Toothless is just down the entrance hall of the cave, searching for his rider as Stormfly made it clear that he was outside in the searing sun when he hears a whistle. Since he can't shout, that's his call for him, a high-pitched whistle. It reaches quite far and is quite loud, which makes it perfect.

Toothless comes running.

"Eh? What was that for? You're not alone?" For as temperamental as dragons can be, there's a certain species of animal that Hiccup fears more than the firebreathing creatures he lives with.

Humans.

Toothless comes outside growling, spotting the two giving his rider trouble. It's not like Hiccup is defenseless, he knows how to knock a head or two around. He just feels much safer with a dragon near, with the Night Fury especially.

"Oh shit, is that a dragon?" One of them yelps in both surprise and amazement, both of them stumble backward in fright.

They are both oddly dressed, having too much stuff on their person. But then they also have something Toothless believes is called a "car" with too much stuff. Traders, perhaps? Or are they thieves?

Feeling much more secure with Toothless around, Hiccup faces the two humans who have come, quite literally, to the middle of nowhere for reasons that can't possibly be good.

"I have nothing." He signs, an air of suspicion around him as he doesn't trust these two at all.

"Again, we have no idea what you're saying, kid. Can't you use your words at all?" The one with the blue vest tied around their waist asks. Since they haven't shared their names yet, Toothless will be referring to this one as "Blue Vest" and the other one as "Red Scarf".

"If they could, I'm sure they would've. But they can't, they're mute." Red Scarf points out to the other one, who looks sheepish.

Toothless isn't sure what to think of these two. Despite their mysterious appearance in this area and their unknown reasons, they don't give off any bad vibes. What sets him off is Hiccup's distrust of them and he distrusts any human they have met so far in their one year since their reunion.

He has reasons not to trust them, sad as they are.

As Hiccup approaches Toothless, coming to stand by his side in the crook of his wing, Red Scarf points something out to their companion. They are both staring at the right side of Hiccup's head, where his hair is the shortest.

"You're a slave?"

Blue Vest asks and Hiccup presses himself further into his dragon's side, hand on his scales. Toothless can almost hear his heart beginning to race.

He shakes his head, offended that they would even ask, though the scar they noticed was indeed once a brand. His glare says enough. And for a short moment, the air is tense. What will the two do now that they have figured this out?

"Not anymore. Doesn't matter if he's a runaway or bought himself free either." Red Scarf states and goes to the back of the car to look in the back.

"Explains the mutism." Blue Vest awkwardly says to their friend, rubbing the back of their neck.

"And your location. You're hiding?" Red Scarf asks, but Hiccup isn't answering that, which is ironically the only answer they need.

Red Scarf comes back holding something wrapped in brown in their hands and cautiously approaches Hiccup, who has to stop himself from backing up. Red Scarf keeps glancing back at the dragon, watching for any signs of aggression.

Toothless lets them get closer, not sensing any ill intent in their approach. When they reach his human and push that pack into his hands, they back off again and join their friend.

"We're leaving now, we're going to leave you alone. So take care, okay? Don't run into any trouble?" Red Scarf asks, to which Hiccup nods reluctantly, confused by these turn of events.

Meeting humans has never gone well for him and these two were the first since coming to live here with these dragons.

It surprises him that they are kind and want him to stay safe instead of trying to drag him back to wherever someone like him needs to be.

They drive off, leaving Toothless content with the way this interaction has gone and Hiccup feeling confused and unsure what he should think of this. But he opens the pack and finds neatly packed food with a container of water and he didn't even need to trade anything for it. He's been given this purely out of the kindness of their hearts.

Has his previous low status garnered him sympathy? In hindsight, they seemed nice. But despite this, Hiccup's history with other humans means he isn't sure what to think or feel.

Toothless headbutts his back to tell him to come back inside with the other dragons. It's getting late, the sun is nearly all the way down, it's time for bed.

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He was sold into slavery early into his teens.

He doesn't know why he's not even sure if it's the truth. All he knows is that this is what he's been told his entire time as "free labor" before he inevitably escaped.

Toothless wasn't surprised to hear that the reason Hiccup is now free is that he escaped. He has always been a free spirit, even as a Viking, especially as a Viking. Unable to be pinned down, too stubborn to just give up the fight. He can stumble, but he clearly did not give up until he could taste the sky.

He hasn't given the dragon the details on what happened during that time and maybe he never will. All that Toothless truly knows is that it makes Hiccup wake up and break out in tears during many of the nights they spend together.

There are no loud sobs, no crying. Toothless wakes up to labored breaths and lifts his head to look at the troubled human as he sits within his coils. Curled up, his knees to his chest and his arms wrapped around them, he cries.

He does so without sound, he can't help it without a voice. If Toothless didn't have such a sharp hearing, he wouldn't have even noticed.

Crooning, Toothless straightens and nudges Hiccup's temple to draw his attention. He gives it to him, wrapping an arm around the Night Fury to keep him close. The other, his right, he cradles to his chest. It must hurt and Toothless can guess what the nightmare he woke up from must've been about.

Because his right forearm and hand, just like his left leg once again, is a prosthetic. It's not like any replacement the Vikings he once knew used to have as his new hand looks and works like a hand and his metal foot looks and works like a foot.

He built them both himself from whatever scraps he could find after his escape. Even when he only had one hand to work with, he still created the other without help. Toothless has watched him do it.

And because they are made of scraps, they look like scraps, but to Toothless, they are the most advanced things he has ever seen and his human made them! He can still make everything.

But right now is not the time to think of Hiccup's ingenuity. His right arm is hurting, phantom limb pain, and it's making bad memories resurface. Because whoever used to own him before, they're the ones who took so many parts from him.

"Toothless," A raspy voice, barely above a whisper, crawls out of his throat with much difficulty. The only reason the dragon can hear it is because of his exceptional hearing.

Knowing that a breakdown might be imminent, Toothless quickly wraps a foreleg around him to pull him closer as Hiccup silently sobs and snuggles closer to his dragon in search of comfort and safety. It must've been a terrible nightmare and his arm hurting certainly doesn't help.

Moaning sadly, Toothless holds him closer and lets him cry.

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It took the better part of a couple of hours before Hiccup could calm enough for them to fall back asleep. He'd needed to let it all out and take some painkillers to make the hurting in his arm stop. After that, once the pain in his heart had abated, too, he could finally sleep again.

It's nights like that that the old Night Fury hates the most. When his Rider is in so much pain that he suffers for hours on end and he hates that he wasn't there to keep it all from happening. So he could keep his leg, so he could keep his arm, the trust in other humans that is supposed to be infallible unless necessary, his voice.

They broke him, tore him piece by piece so many times that even he could hardly survive. Whoever thought themselves deserving of his Rider, Hiccup Haddock, and decided they could be his tormentor they are nameless and faceless, but Toothless despises them all the same. They better hope that they never run into him.

But there is one saving grace.

The next morning after a most difficult and emotionally taxing night, a soundless and breathy laugh reaches the old dragon's ears and he looks over at Hiccup and his latest project, the one that is supposed to bring cooler temperatures during the nigh unbearable Summer days. It, too, is made out of scraps and parts collected on their many trips.

But instead of working now, when the day is cool, Hiccup spends his time playing with the few hatchlings that have managed to be born in this cave. Their numbers are dwindling everywhere.

His arm prosthetic gone for the day after the night he's had to let the limb have a break, Hiccup plays with the hatchling by throwing his wrench in a game of fetch.

It always takes a while to come back to him, the little nadders fighting amongst themselves for who gets to bring the tool. And in the meantime, Hiccup continues his work, frequently looking back at the three before he has to inevitably throw the wrench again.

It's the nights that lay him bare, that show him at his most vulnerable and shows the barely glued cracks inside of him. But during the day, that's when he shows that, despite being broken, he can still thrive just fine.

So Toothless can lay his head down again and continue his rest for the moment.

[introvertguide]

M*A*S*H (1970); AFI #54

The next film on the AFI List is what is often called a dark comedy, M*A*S*H (1970). This was a highly rated movie by critics although it was overshadowed by Patton that came out the same year. The film earned nominations for Best Picture, Best Director, Best Supporting Actress, and Best Editing while winning for Best Screenplay. This is the first major feature length film for director Robert Altman after years spent directing for television. This experience is very apparent because the film experience is like binge watching webisodes online. Many short stories that come together around a group of characters in a specific setting. I want to go over the story before any further critique and I will break it down like episodes of a TV show. Oh yeah...

SPOILER ALERT!!! THERE IS A LOT TO THIS FILM SO REVIELING THE PLOT WON’T REALLY SPOIL THE EXPERIENCE, BUT I WANT TO BE SURE TO WARN ANYBODY BEFORE I START SPOILING DETAILS!!!

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The film starts with the well known helicopters flying in with wounded soldiers with the theme of “Suicide is Painless.” These same shots were either used or simulated for the beginning of the television show. The tone is set to be a rather somber war film that deals with injuries and death in battle...until one of the groups moving the stretchers falls over and the tone becomes uncertain. 

We then meet two new surgeons that are assigned to the 4077 unit. They are Captain Hawkeye Pierce (Donald Sutherland) and Captain Duke Forrest (Tom Skerritt). They are insubordinate smart aleks who take a jeep without a driver and go off to the medical outpost where they are assigned. They immediately run into Major Burns (Robert Duvall) with whom they share an officer’s tent. Duke and Hawkeye have a rule breaking style that does not mesh with the extremely strict and religious Major. The two immediately ask for the Major to be moved. They get a new tent mate in Captain Trapper McIntyre and we have our three doctors. Also in the camp are Colonel Blake (Roger Bowen), Major “Hot Lips” Houlihan (Sally Kellerman), the dentist “Painless” (John Schuck), and Lieutenant “Dish” (Joann Pflug).

The first situation is dealing with Burns. He is indoctrinating a local teen by having him read the bible. Not really too bad. The man is annoying and I couldn’t remember why he got such a bad rap. However, he blames an assistant (who is not a nurse and played by Bud Cort) for the death of a soldier when the man was going to die anyway, and Trapper takes exception and punches Burns in the face. Burns then starts to court the new Major and the three docs broadcast them being intimate over the loudspeaker. She tells Burns to kiss her hot lips and gains her nickname. Hawkeye rags on Burns about the incident until the Major attacks the Captain and Burns is taken away for psychiatric discharge. The three doctors respect Houlihan’s nursing skills, but they still really hate her neurotic adherence to the rules.

The next situation involves the dentist, Painless, who was unable to perform sexually with a visiting nurse so he believes he is gay and wants to kill himself. The doctors form a scheme to give the dentist a pill that will knock him out and also give him an erection (like a Cialis sleeping pill). Painless believes the pill will kill him and everyone says their goodbyes. All the surgeons have dinner together in a scene reminiscent of the last supper and then Painless is given his pill and lays down in a coffin while a reprise of “Suicide is Painless” plays in the background. Once Painless is out, a good looking nurse who is about to leave for home, Lieutenant Dish, is convinced to have sex with the dentist to convince him he is not gay. It works and the Lieutenant leaves in the morning and the dentist changes his mind about dying.

There is a brief interlude where the docs wonder if Hot Lips is a natural blond. To find out, they set up a scheme in which they drop open the side of a shower tent while the Major is there so they can see her pubic hair and compare. It is a rather mean prank that the whole camp is in on, and Houlihan goes to Colonel Blake and complains that he lets the surgeons get away with everything. He tells her to get out because he is sleeping with a nurse and drinking alcohol that was brought in by the three doctors.

The third situation involves Trapper and Hawkeye going off to Japan to perform emergency surgery on the son of somebody with influence. While there, they also use the facility to help a baby of one of the local prostitutes. They are caught with the possibility of legal repercussions, but blackmail the local officer with pictures of him with the prostitute. They get their way and are able to go back to the 4077. When they get back, it turns out that Duke has been sleeping with Hot Lips because he likes blondes.

The final situation is a little out of the blue but perhaps the most well known aspect of the film. The 4077 is challenged to a football game by local evacuation unit 325. The two camps both get ringers to play as there is a $5000 wager on the game. The 4077 holds back their ringer for the first half and sabotage the best players of the 325th so they can increase the wager and the odds at halftime. It works and the 4077 bring in their ringer and are able to win on the last play.

The end is very much like the beginning in that Hawkeye and Duke are given their papers to go home and they steal the same Jeep to leave together. There are no closing credits but the actors are all mentioned on an overhead announcement that breaks the 4th wall of the film. Very creative and a pretty satisfying ending.

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Like I said at the beginning, this doesn’t really feel like a film but more of a series of episodes. It is no wonder that it translated so well to television and became one of the most popular shows of all time. There was only one actor that went from the movie to the TV show and that was Colonel Blake’s secretary known as Radar, who was played by Gary Burghoff. This is one of the few films on the AFI list that you can watch in parts or step away from and not really miss anything. It was a lot different from anything that had been done before, but it does seem a little incohesive.

My mom is not a fan of this film specifically because of the way that these three doctors treat everyone else. Major Burns does not really deserve his fate and the nurses are constantly used for their sex appeal. The three are incredibly mesogenistic, Duke is kind of racist when there is a discussion of a black man staying in their tent, and Painless would rather die than possibly live his life as a gay man. All of these characters are in a horrible situation, but the audience is supposed to automatically favor the flippant care-free doctors. Burns and Houlihan are not really played out as terrible people but we are supposed to laugh as these surgeons torture them. The joke really doesn’t hold up.

I really think that this movie is a great time capsule for the time period. Men were being drafted to go off to war and it was believed that they were being stripped of their humanity and turned into killers. Vietnam was a war that many Americans didn’t want to be a part of so the idea that the war experience could be good with the right attitude appealed to many. The graphic nature of the surgery scenes made the situation feel real so the movie going audience cheered for those men who could do their job while keeping their sanity and their frat boy sense of humor intact. Again, that is not the humor of the nation currently so the gags don’t really hold up. It does give the viewer a glance into the mindset of the audience at the time.

After Nashville, I don’t have that much to say about the cinematography. Altman definitely has wide shots in which a lot is happening, but it is set at a small army camp in which it is hard to tell the actors in uniform apart. A lot of the action is lost. Also, there are far fewer characters in this film than in Nashville. Altman’s TV roots are much more evident in this film. That being said, the constant change really helps to move the movie along and I would say it is up with Raiders of the Lost Ark as far as quick pace.

So does this film deserve to be on the AFI list? I’m actually going to say no. The TV show that was inspired by this film made for some of the best episodic story telling on the small screen, but you can’t really give that to this film. The comedy really doesn’t hold up and the lack of any cohesive story lasting more than 15 minutes is very detrimental. Would I recommend it? Yes I would. It is fun and a pretty easy watch. I am really just not that sure how it got on the AFI list. It wasn’t highly awarded and many people don’t know there even was a movie before the TV show. It is an interesting bit of history, but it is no big deal if you skip this one. Watch the TV show instead.

[j9guardians]

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We spend a lot of time speaking on the contributions of Nine towards Joong in this fandom. That’s likely due to how visual his actions of care are. He physically is there for Joong in many ways be it helping him with studies, being his driver, letting him stay over, cooking, comforting him with touch. This time I wanted to extend on some of the things I mentioned previously. I want to peel back the surface layer and really explore why J9 works the way it does.

I think what many people overlook is the high probability that J9 are so close because Joong pursued the friendship either consciously or subconsciously.

When we hear Nine talk about their first meeting or his first impression, it’s clear that there were snags in his interest of a budding relationship between the two. This isn’t because Nine is negative or shady for the sake of being so. It’s because some people, like Nine, really measure you up in the first meeting. I’d go as far as saying he’s protective of his soft parts and don’t let most people in past a surface level. So there’s an immediate instinct to build walls.

Joong on the other hand has been said to be very trusting, naive, and gullible even - but with this he also seems to be very intuitive and also instinctive. By that I mean, that he goes with his feelings. If he feels someone is ‘good’ he’s going to go with that. If he feels like saying or doing in the moment he probably will try to go with the flow of it. When he recalls meeting Nine he expresses seeing him in his skill set and being kinda intimidated, in wanting to speak to Nine but being afraid to. This isn’t jealousy, nor envy, what he’s expressing in his description is admiration and trepidation. And because Joong is the type that wants to trust, because he admired Nine at the first - there was an openness and probably even a desire to create a friendship - despite the vibe of nine wanting otherwise.

This is the secret - people who build emotional walls usual have the desire fior those who excel at tearing down such walls, because there’s a hope here. The thought process becomes if this person works this hard, shows this much interest and effort to know me, to create a bond - then can’t I trust them to know how to protect me in the place of the wall. The real thing that they’re seeking is stability and security. So Joong being who he naturally is - trusting, sweet/nice, and honest are the parts of the things that helped him to build his relationship with Nine but it also had to come with levels of pursuit - being consciously interested in Nine’s daily goings, in his emotionalism and really being attentive to those parts. Because truly Nine is a creature of emotion, and I don’t mean that in the way that humans are emotive beings, no I mean some people’s basis are emotions - it’s the thing that’s moves them, the thing they protect, the thing that leaks through every portion of their being.

When we talk about love - Nine is one of those types who wants to give it, who exudes it, give it in totality even. People tend to use the word - mothering but i’d say the correct terminology is nurturing, as it means to care for or encourage development and really Nine in every essence. He is very much all about emotional expression. With this comes a moodiness and cetain type of stress so Nine needs to be adored, uplifted. On the other side Joong is the type that wants to see love wants to believe it in and experience it. There’s is a need to be doted on here as well but Joongs type of love is as close as you’re gonna get to unconditional. because he’s the go with the flow type, because he is so intuitive, theres this type of acceptance that many aren’t capable of and with it a willingness to be for what someone else needs. So there’s a give and take here, a compatibility. Emotional stimuli is why their relationship is ideal for them.

While differently, Joong is an emotional being as well and this is why he understands Nines emotionalism, his hangups, his tough shell. Nine has expressed thanks for this understanding of the parts of his persona that others might find difficult adapting to and managing as Joong has. We’ve heard them speak about not sleeping due to late night conversations. They’ve expressed their rules and a small bit of how they’ve created a working system inside their friendship. In the last post I mentioned how Nine said around Joong he can be his real authentic self. What he’s expressing there is that Joong pulls him out of his shell a bit, that he does so without judgement, or manipulation. He’s saying that with Joong, his inner workings are safe, Joong is seeing him and he still feels secure in those moments. I think Nine is/was genuinely surprised by this acceptance from Joong, because like I said previously, people don’t tend to truly like those who lean far to the serious side, who need exceeding encouragement and uplifting. Yet here we have Joong who seems to accept his rough sides - the part that excommunicates, or goes cold, is critical - and encourages him even during those times.

On the flip side, Nine’s concept of building ‘us’ friendships likely is ideal for Joong in many ways definitely during a time where his own family isn’t there. With Nine he’s allowed to not only build a partnership, a friendship a brotherhood, but also he’s become a part of Nines family. Once Nine accepted him into his circle, he welcomed him into both of his homes, and into his family who on their part accepted Joong as one of their own as well. This steeples their bond as Joong equally accepts the family as his own - referring to Nines mom as his mom and the siblings as his siblings.

Nine is perceptive which helps him smooth many emotional pitfalls that surrounds Joongs own sensitivities. In any good moment when there’s a misstep he’ll mend what he said, note that he’s joking, salve with small touches. If the mistep or slight is from someone else its the same, he’ll correct the person as a way to mend what they’ve said, lighten the mood, and often salve with some form of touch or look. Having let Joong in, Nine considers him ‘one of his people’ and with that comes many levels of protectiveness, possessiveness and clinginess.

Because of their set up and how the company likes to play up certain elements of their interactions, fandom seems to worry that outside sources will stem future problems. In fact the fear currently seems to come from the thought process that changes for Joong (starting university) means less time for J9 and more time for him to build outside relationships, which will create a distance. Its not that I’m saying outside forces can’t become a problem, no, I’m saying that the real issue between Joong and Nine (if ever one) will truly stem from the same thing that makes them so great together - their emotionalism. People don’t realize this but often, the thing that makes you love someone is usually the thing you eventually find most trying. Nine loves Joongs free spiritedness because it pulls him out of his shell - but that free spirited nature puts him out of his territory, with it comes unpredictability, instability and for someone who seeks stability and security that can be a landline. Same with Joong, he loves Nines drive and ability to be multi-talented and focused on his craft but with serious mindsets can come great pressure, feeling ignored, or second place to things like career - and that could be an issue.

J9 is that type of pairing that when it’s good between them it’s off the charts great because the ways they are similar caters to the one another’s needs. They’re both intuitive enough to communicate beyond words, they understand eachother on a deep level. So when they have fun they really have fun. But when it’s bad, it’s oh so very very bad. Because they are both highly emotional people when they go at it they but heads and the fights are high in tension as they don’t hold back. This is something they’ve admitted themselves. But when they makeup they’re also the type that comes with tears and apologies and real forgiveness because again they understand each other’s pitfalls. There is a real sense of guilt, because there is so much love beneath the surface and they don’t want to lose what they’ve managed to find/create.

The reason I’m not feeling insecure about Joong and university is because I understand that J9 truly make one another a priority. Joong has other friends, he’s had other jobs that gave him access to other people, he has other brotherhoods within the 6 Moons, but its inarguable that he makes himself readily accessible to and for Nine. Nine still makes sure he shines some attention on Joong even during his study sessions - sometimes even breaking his own rules and allowing Joong entry before his study span is over. There has been times he’s taken less sleep or done the extra driving to make sure he and Joong got their time in. We make time for what’s important and J9 seems to have always done that exceedingly well.

I don’t think separation will be their danger zone but instead a bit of codependency. It’s been only a years and they seem in the stage where being apart is not their definition of ideal. They use one another for emotional reliance, so much so I wonder if they’re really using any others to carry that burden. That’s the thing about emotional beings, it’s easy to fall and get lost in the hole of - someone understands me, sees me, accepts me. It can be addicting, electrifying, exhilarating. But it can also set the entire relationship ablaze and burnout those within it. Relationship - no matter what capacity - family, friends,’lovers, partners - are hard to maintain. They take patience, compassion, empathy, compromise, communication. Love isn’t what keeps people bound/bonded together it’s the tools we use to present love that does.

Personally I think Joong & Nine has what it takes to be in each other’s lives forever. Funnily I don’t believe anyone has done a fmv to it yet but I think Sam Smith’s Fire on Fire are made for pairings like J9.

“When we fight, we fight like lions

But then we love and feel the truth

We lose our minds in a city of roses

We won't abide by any rules

I don't say a word

But still, you take my breath and steal the things I know

There you go, saving me from out of the cold”

- Sam Smith Fire On Fire

That...that to me is the definition of J9 and why they work so well.

Note: First Video belongs to Macy, I got permission to use as i would have to reupload. You can find her on twitter @j9uwu

[ambvrs]

[  HANDE ERCEL,  CIS  FEMALE,  SHE  /  HER  ]  shh  !  JOSEPHINE  AYDIN,  the  TWENTY  ONE  year  old  SECOND  year  GRAPHIC  DESIGN  &  CREATIVE  WRITING  major  from  EDINBURGH,  SCOTLAND,  is  known  as  an  AMBER  around  here.  SHE  was  invited  to  join  because  SHE  UNEARTHED  STRATHMORE'S  BEST  KEPT  SECRET,  and  now,  they’re  here  to  stay.  SHE  reminds  me  of  HOT  CUPS  OF  COFFEE  CRADLED  IN  SWEATER  -  CLAD  HANDS,  KNOWING  GAZE  CAST  OVER  THE  PAGES  OF  A  WELL  -  VERSED  NOVEL,  &  RIBBONS  TYING  BACK  SEA  OF  DARK  CURLS.

hello  friends  🥺👉👈  i’m  andie  (  she  /  her,  twenty  one,  est,  no  stable  sleep  schedule  )  &  i’m  here  to  bring  my  precious  babie,  the  second  -  year  amber,  josephine  aydin  !  i’ve  included  a  link  to  her  google  docs  (  which  is  extra  as  all  hell,  please  don’t  @  me  )  which  has  most  of  the  information  i  have  on  her,  but  for  everyone’s  sake,  i’ll  include  some  tl;dr  bullet  points  here  !

biography  .

josephine’s  google  doc  includes  a  stat  breakdown,  how  she’s  perceived  by  a  number  of  people,  her  aesthetics,  a  more  or  less  biography  (  which  apparently  i’ve  basically  detailed  below  i  am  too  long  winded  for  my  own  good  ),  and  a  handful  of  wanted  connections  !  i’ll  have  it  up  on  a  page  on  her  blog  soon  !

the  basics  .

third  youngest  of  the  aydin  children,  josephine  was  constantly  overlooked  in  favor  of  her  established  prodigy  siblings;  a  brother  who  inherited  mother’s  natural  skill  for  music  and  a  sister  who,  while  not  musically  inclined,  took  after  her  mother’s  obvious  drive  for  ambition.  perhaps  she’d  be  a  doctor  like  her  father,  top  of  her  class  and  a  prime  candidate  at  any  prestigious  medical  school,  or  an  actress,  for  she  already  commanded  the  stage  well.  but  josephine  showed  no  interest  in  any  of  those  things,  so  unlike  her  family  that  most  forgot  she  bore  the  aydin  name.

a  youth  best  spent  in  shadows,  at  siblings  every  performance  and  undoubtedly  their  number  one  fan.  she  didn’t  blame  them  for  her  parents  disinterest  in  her,  and  for  what  it’s  worth,  they  were  always  the  ones  most  willing  to  get  her  to  step  out  of  comfort  zone.  to  try  new  hobbies  and  activities  her  parents  had  discarded  for  her.  she  was  still  young,  but  her  siblings  offered  her  an  unwavering  support  just  as  she  did  them.

a  wild  imagination  and  an  eye  for  finer  details  lead  her  to  be  a  publish  writer,  even  if  it’s  in  just  the  smallest  sections  of  the  school  newspaper  or  your  english  teacher’s  bulletin  board.  an  avid  member  of  the  writing  club,  the  school  book  club,  and  a  visitor  to  most  art  classes,  she  took  more  joy  in  what  is  hidden  within  books  and  on  paper  than  how  she  appeared  to  others.  she  took  great  pride  in  her  work,  of  course,  but  she  almost  never  called  attention  to  herself;  growing  up  sheltered  from  the  critical  eyes  of  others  will  do  that  to  you.

(  death  mention  tw  )  short  stories  that  detail  her  siblings  as  knights  and  fair  maidens  and  her  parents  as  the  evil  that  plagues  the  kingdom,  it’s  no  wonder  her  parents  were  never  privy  to  her  interest.  but  for  every  story  detailing  them  as  her  savior,  she  could  only  wish  to  be  theirs  when  news  of  their  death  reaches  her.  both  killed  under  mysterious  circumstances  in  their  childhood  home  while  parents  were  away  and  she  was  on  a  school  trip,  she  bears  their  death  as  though  she’s  at  fault.  as  if  she  could  have  done  anything  to  save  them,  and  she  would’ve  done  it  all,  if  she  could.

the  end  of  her  secondary  school  career  is  plagued  by  their  loss,  one  that  weighs  heavily  on  her  shoulders  and  heart.  parents  who  can’t  bear  to  look  at  her  as  a  reminder  of  what  they’ve  lost,  who  push  her  so  far  away  that  her  only  solace  is  strathmore,  an  entire  country  away.  they  do  not  bid  her  farewell  and  she  does  not  seek  their  approval  when  it  comes  time  to  decide  her  future’s  path.  a  double  major  in  creative  writing  and  graphic  design,  a  knack  for  creativity  finally  unlocked.

no  longer  the  other  aydin,  she  created  herself  as  josephine  within  strathmore’s  walls,  her  own  dreams  and  ambitions  and  no  more  crushing  weight  of  parent’s  expectations.  but  it  is  a  dangerous  line  she  walks,  always  too  curious,  too  used  to  being  a  fly  on  the  wall,  for  her  own  good  and  innocent  research  into  any  number  of  topics  -  history  of  the  school  you  now  call  home,  of  words  she  heard  whispered  like  a  ghost  in  the  wind.  as  if  they  hadn’t  been  real  at  all.  it’s  in  the  midst  of  researching  for  a�� story  when  she  stumbles  across  something  more  concrete,  the  same  latin  words  whispered  now  doting  some  of  the  oldest  books  the  library  held.

it’s  a  rabbit  hole  she  can’t  pull  herself  from,  free  time  spent  learning  about  a  society  so  secret  that  it’s  mere  existence  seemed  like  a  myth.  she  doesn’t  put  much  stock  in  it,  of  course,  surely  it  had  slipped  away  like  most  clubs  do  over  time,  until  the  mysterious  individual  stood  waiting  outside  her  dorm  at  the  start  of  the  year,  equally  as  questionable  invitation  in  hand.  symbols  and  latin  both  equally  recognized,  instinct  tells  her  that  she’s  dug  too  deep  and  they’re  ready  to  keep  her  quiet.  but  it’s  not  near  as  malicious  as  over  -  active  imagination  declares  and  she  finds  herself  at  a  small  advantage.  but  how  advantageous  was  it  to  know  of  secrets  that  were  kept  that  way  for  a  reason  ?

the  opal  society  is  sketchy  in  the  way  she  imagined  most  things  of  this  nature  to  be,  right  up  there  with  questionable  greek  life  activities  behind  closed  doors,  but  there  is  excitement  that  buds  eagerly  in  her  chest.  a  chance  to  be  a  part  of  something  bigger  than  herself,  to  know  she  was  picked  out  of  thousands  to  uphold  a  legacy  that  stands  for  more  than  what  most  would  think.  she'd  made  friends  easily  enough  before  this,  but  now  she  has  friends  that  she  shares  something  special  with,  an  experience  as  trying  as  it  was  bonding,  and  she  couldn't  be  more  excited  for  what  was  to  come.

more  aesthetics  .

glossy  lips  tinted  strawberry  red  curled  into  ghost  of  a  smile,  cheeks  kissed  by  the  winter  wind,  the  habitual  tugging  of  a  loose  thread  from  worn  sweaters  and  pressed  button  -  downs,  elegant  script  turned  messy  scrawl  in  a  flurry  of  last  minute  notes,  the  pastel  color  coordination  of  detailed  notes;  so  well  kept  that  it’s  impossible  not  to  follow,  polaroid  photos  strung  above  dorm  room  bed;  memories  always  kept  so  close  to  heart,  cracked  spines  of  leather  bound  books  read  too  many  times,  the  feeling  of  cool  metal  jewelry  pressed  flush  against  skin;  dainty  silver  professing  an  obvious  delicacy.

wanted  connections  .

the  fellow  creator.  someone  with  a  craft  all  of  their  own,  be  it  a  shared  interest  in  the  literary  arts,  a  visual  artist,  or  musical  prodigy.  perhaps  they  share  it  as  an  interest,  or  is  something  they've  both  managed  to  excel  at. 

the  unlikely  friend.  someone  she  never  would  have  crossed  paths  with  outside  of  the  opal  society,  who  she  would  never  have  befriended  otherwise.  not  because  they  differ  so  greatly  that  a  friendship  was  impossible,  but  because  they  never  would  interacted  on  campus.

the  rival.  perhaps  it  is  a  rivalry  that  stems  from  knee  -  jerk  dislike,  or  someone  that  rubbed  her  the  wrong  way  or  with  equally  notable  skill  in  an  area  she  considers  herself  just  as  adept.  always  at  each  other  just  trying  to  be  the  absolute  best  at  whatever  they  do.

drinking  buddies.  for  as  quiet  as  she  is,  she’s  a  whole  other  person  when  loosened  up  by  alcohol.  someone  she  can  share  a  few  drinks  with  and  just  hang  out  with  for  hours  at  a  time.

conspiracy  theorist.  i’m  not  saying  that  josie  fully  believes  in  conspiracy  theories,  at  least  not  outwardly,  but  she  definitely  enjoys  them  conceptually  and  will  broach  them  for  hours  with  you.  please  don’t  enable  her.

this  tag  (  that  i’m  not  directly  linking  bc  aesthetic  tags  are  the  Devil  )  and this tag  !

anything  and  everything  thank  you  please  plot  with  me  i  like  memes

[trensu]

Episode 9: the One where They ~FROLIC IN THE FOREST~

We’re back at the dancing fairy cave.

Stuff happens here that’s, you know, plotty

We’re gonna ignore all that

OUR FIRST WANGXIAN MOMENT OF THE EPISODE is when wwx defends lwj from jc’s ire (oh yeah, one of the plotty things is that jc suddenly is here. Not important why).

Jc is all pissy (bc when isn’t he, honestly?) at wwx for having to chase after him (which he didn’t technically have to but bros don’t abandon their bros to unknown circumstances, okay?) and is complaining angrily about it

Wwx: hey, I’M the one who wanted to follow lwj around because i love him, so don’t get mad at him!

And then wwx looks over at lwj with a little smile on his face, so sweet so sweet!

Plot plot exposition plot

We have to chase down the Smoky Owl of Evil and kill it now for Plot Reasons!

Lol, wwx traps jc, nhs, AND wen qing (oh she’s here now too, btw) in his Golden Glowy Net of Protection so he and lwj can go track down the Smoky Owl of Evil together

Wwx, probably: “STOP INTERRUPTING MY DATE WITH LWJ, GUYS, JEEZ”

And now our beautiful boys are in the middle of the woods when suddenly SPOOKY FOG ROLLS IN WITH OMINOUS MUSIC IN THE BACKGROUND

SHIT’S ABOUT TO GET SERIOUS

Oh nooo, the fog separates them!! Wwx is worriedly calling out “lan zhan, lan zhan!”

Luckily they bump into each other pretty quick so they’re together again

Except, oops, JUST KIDDING

Wwx takes like, two steps to one side and loses lwj again. Even tho lwj is literally right there next to him

But he doesn’t know that so he’s worried and being all cute about it. He bites his knuckle and is thinking “oh noooo, what if the Smoky Owl of Evil got him?!?” So he’s calling out for him, again

EVEN THO HE’S ONLY LIKE, TWO FEET AWAY, LET ME REITERATE

LWJ seems to be able to see wwx just fine bc the look he gives him is all “r u srs, i’m right here”

Thankfully lwj is clever and makes bichen light up all blue and pretty like an epic glow stick. It matches his outfit!! (i’ve decided he did this on purpose. He definitely can control what color his sword lights up as and coordinates it accordingly with his clothes. No, i will not be taking criticisms, because I am Right)

LWJ: I’m right next to you

WWX: *surprised gasp* You should’ve said something!

Uh, he just did wwx, keep up now.

LWJ: the fog is creating hallucinations

WWX: that’s alright! I’ll just get rid of it using my ~glitter talisman~

EXCUSE ME, WHAT??

WHAT IS A GLITTER TALISMAN?

OF COURSE YOU INVENTED A GLITTER TALISMAN, YOU CHAOTIC BI

Too bad it doesn’t work! i wanted to see it in action :( :( :(

Lwj: the fog is also disorienting the mind so you can’t focus

Don’t worry wwx, your talisman didn’t fail because you were having performance issues

It failed because the fog is Evil

WWX: Wait!! Why isn’t your mind being disturbed?

Lwj: it mostly disturbs minds that have lots of thoughts in them

Wwx: *cheeky grin* ah, it’s making use of my infinite wisdom~

Lwj: *looks away in exasperation*

I guess lans are Above rolling their eyes at someone (tho I'm pretty sure he's rolled his eyes at him before) but the way lwj did that gave off intense eye-rolling vibes, let me tell ya

OMG A SENTIENT CHAIN OF EVIL ATTACKS THEM OUT OF NOWHERE

Thankfully lwj is a Skilled Fighter and was able to block it with his sword while doing a SUPER DRAMATIC TWIRL OF DODGING

Ooooh, and when he lands, wwx appears right beside him and they go back to back without even pausing to think

BC THEY’RE SOULMATES AND CAN FIGHT IN SYNC AHHHHHH

WWX: lan zhan, are you okay?

He sound so serious here, and with his determined expression, wwx is ready to get down to business on this evil chain that attacked his lwj

LWJ: I’m fine *still super alert to his surroundings bc he’s an awesome cultivator and that’s what they do*

Okay, pause for a moment to point out how funny the camera shots from above are. The fog almost completely obscures wwx in his dark clothes, but lwj sticks out like a sore thumb. So every time we get one of these shots, it just looks like lwj is chilling by his lonesome in this mega foggy forest lol

Oh, dude, this next part is SO FREAKING COOL

So they’re back to back still, and surrounded by Evil Fog

Lwj: wei ying, focus your senses!

The both of them close their eyes to focus intensely

the the camera is down below, angled up so that LWJ and WWX look tall and slightly elongated but in a badass way!

And then the camera circles around them slowly to really show you just how badass and good looking they are before doing a quick spin around them with DRAMATIC MUSIC in the background

Okay, i’m done geeking out about the camera shot (idk why, guys, but i love those kinds of shots. They’re so thrilling every time!!)

Also LOOK AT MY BOYS BEING ALL FOCUSED AND SERIOUS. GO GET EM SWEETIES, I BELIEVE IN YOU

At this point they haven’t even looked at each other or their surroundings but lwj starts a plan

Lwj: Split fire talisman

That’s it. That’s all he says to wwx.

Without hesitation, wwx sheathes suibian and pulls out that talisman

THEY TRUST EACH OTHER IMPLICITLY

I MEAN, COME ON

THEY’RE IN THE MIDDLE OF A FOREST SURROUNDED BY EVIL MIND-ALTERING FOG

AND WWX SHEATHES HIS SWORD LIKE NBD JUST WITH A WORD FROM LWJ??

AAAAHHHHHHH

SOULMATES ON THE BATTLEFIELD

I LOVE IT

I LOVE IT SO MUCH

AND NOW THEY’RE MOVING ALL SYNCHRONIZED,  LWJ BLOCKING EVIL CHAINS WITH BICHEN AND WWX DETERRING OTHER EVIL CHAINS USING THE TALISMANS

AND THEY’RE STILL BACK TO BACK, CIRCLING AROUND TO KEEP EACH OTHER SAFE!!!!!

THEY’RE SUCH A GREAT TEAM 

Then we cut for a moment to see how nhs, jc, and wq are doing in their Golden Glowy Net of Protection (it looks kind of like a birdcage actually...glowy golden birdcage of protection?? hmm)

And we’re back at the epic forest fight scene!!

OMG THAT WAS SUCH A COOL MOVE RIGHT HERE

THERE WAS A CHAIN COMING AT WWX AND HE STRAIGHT UP BACKFLIPS OVER LWJ WHILE LWJ SWOOPS TO TAKE HIS PLACE AND HIT THE CHAIN WITH BICHEN

AHHHHH

THIS IS WHAT ROMANCE LOOKS LIKE, GUYS, DON’T LET ANYONE TELL YOU OTHERWISE

IF YOU CAN’T DO EPIC BATTLE MOVES WITH YOUR S.O. ARE YOU REALLY MEANT TO BE??

But oh no!! One of the evil chains catches wwx by the neck and drags him away!!

It made him drop his sword!!

IT TIED HIM TO A TREE!!

don't think kinky thoughts don't think kinky thoughts dontthinkkinkythoughts

Oh, now wwx is playing dead lol

Suddenly the Smoky Owl of Evil swoops in to attack his “dead” body (because that bird is a coward that lacks honor)

AND WWX CATCHES IT WITH HIS BARE HANDS

WWX: did you think you could outsmart me?? *proceeds to choke the poor bird to death, yikes*

Lwj finally catches up to wwx but sees that the bird’s been sufficiently murdered so he sheathes bichen

Wwx: did you see who was controlling the Smoky Owl of Evil?

LWJ: Nope.

(God, LWJ, you had ONE JOB)

LWJ: he or she was mind-controlling it from somewhere Not Here.

(Oh, nevermind then. You're forgiven)

LOL WWX’S FACE

LIKE, YOU MEAN I NEARLY GOT CHOKED TO DEATH WITH AN EVIL CHAIN FOR NOTHING???

Wwx: *kicks dead bird petulantly*

Side note: A-yuan makes a brief appearance here! Wwx and LWJ go check on their pals who are with the Wens and A-yuan is there!! 

It doesn’t really make sense bc i’m pretty sure between now and the end of the sunshot campaign, a few years have passed?? so a-yuan should be much older later, but you know what? I DON’T EVEN CARE.

WHATEVER! I’M NOT HERE FOR THE PLOT. 

OR SENSIBLE TIMELINES. 

TIME IS MEANINGLESS. 

TRUE LOVE IS FOREVER. 

ALSO A-YUAN IS FREAKING ADORABLE SO I’M NOT GONNA COMPLAIN!

And now we’re getting more plot exposition about the dancing fairy

It’s less painful this time bc wen qing is the one doing it and she’s gorgeous (take a moment to drown in her big brown bambi eyes! please marry me, wen qing)

More plot stuff happens.

Wwx tricks nhs and jc into chasing after a chicken so he can have ~alone time~ with lwj

Except not really bc they’re there to interrogate wq about the yin iron, aka the main plot device in this story arc

Wwx: the fairy started snatching souls bc the Plot Device was taken from it, right? That’s why it only went after lan zhan when we were fighting it!

Detective!WWX is so cute and clever!!

But god forbid wwx stays serious for more than a minute straight heh straight when not in immediate danger bc then he’s all

Wwx: the only other possible explanation is...IT HAD A CRUSH ON LAN ZHAN LOLOL

(Which, i mean, who wouldn’t, right?)

THE LOOK ON LWJ’S FACE AT THIS! LOL

LWJ: Shut UP

they’re talking serious plot stuff again, boring.

Oh, JC and WQ have a moment and the only reason i’m mentioning it is bc WWX goes and interrupts it, THAT’S KARMA BABY LOL

Now they’re in a town! Not the flower-petal town from before. A different one. Idk.

A hawker stops wwx and gives him a sample of alcohol and lwj gives wwx a disdainful look like ‘r u srs?’ before walking off

The NANOSECOND wwx sees lwj walking away from him, he ditches Mr. Let-me-give-you-free-alcohol and chases after him

Yes, the budding alcoholic ditches the Free Alcohol Man

THAT’S TRUE LOVE BABY

Lol he grabs lwj by the ribbon thing hanging off his shoulder (not the Marriage Ribbon, unfortunately)

Lwj glares at him but it’s like, a mild one

WWX: wait, where are you going??

Lwj: looking for the gentry. For info. *tries to walk away*

Wwx: WAIT *grabs lwj by the forearm*

Lwj: *stares at where wwx is touching him until wwx lets go*

WWX TAKE IT EASY ON POOR LAN ZHAN

HE’S ONLY JUST REALIZED HE’S IN LOVE WITH YOU

HE CAN’T HANDLE YOU TOUCHING HIM YET

Wwx: don’t go without me! You’ll info-gather wrong!!

Lwj: how should i do it then?

Wwx: *cute little grin that shows off his beauty mark*

(gaaahhh, i can’t handle it when he smiles like this, it kills me every time!! that beauty mark is deadly)

Wwx: you should go to the wine house for info instead!!

JC: you just want to get drunk (oh yeah, he’s still here guys, fyi)

Wwx: HOW DARE! I can separate business from pleasure! Ppl gossip at wine houses! We’ll definitely get info there!

and now nhs is joining them

Nhs: lets go find a place to rest

Wow, lwj is staring pretty hard at nhs

It’s a stare that’s like “y r u talking to my soulm8, stop that”

AND THEN WWX GRABS BOTH JC AND LWJ BY THE ARMS AND RUNS, DRAGGING THEM BOTH BEHIND HIM

IT’S SO CUTE

HE’S SO HAPPY!! HE’S GOT THE TWO BOYS HE LOVES MOST IN THE WORLD WITH HIM!!

Also, lol lwj is so stiff even as wwx forces him to run

We’re at the wine house

Wwx slams down an obscene amount of money on the table (at least i think it’s obscene going off of jc’s expression and subsequent scolding about how wwx is gonna be broke BUT JOKE’S ON HIM BC WWX IS GETTING HIMSELF A SUGAR DADDY IN THE FUTURE)

Now he’s chatting up the waiter for info and we get Plot Details and an ooky-spooky story about the now deceased Chang clan

I only specify this bc the Plot Device tucked in lwj’s robes starts acting up aND CAUSING LWJ PAIN!! 

NOT COOL, PLOT DEVICE, VERY NOT COOL!

Wwx is hovering all worriedly at his shoulder and mother-henning him.

The Plot Device gives LWJ a vision(!!) that sends them to the Chang clan’s residence

And we get surprise dead bodies accompanied by unholy screeching when we get there!!

Like. SO MANY dead bodies!

LWJ and WWX are Concerned!!

And that’s the end of episode 9.

This episode imo has is the best fight scene of the show. There’s more dramatic ones later on, but in terms of seeing wwx and lwj battle together in a not-ridiculously-over-the-top fashion? This one wins hands down! Gold Star to my boys!!

Return to Masterpost

[thenexusofsouls]

Former Muse: Marya Maximoff

MARYA MAXIMOFF (Biological aunt and adoptive mother of twins Wanda and Pietro Maximoff.)

Type of Character & Fandom/Source Material: Canon-divergent character in the Marvel fandom based loosely from concepts in MCU’s Age of Ultron, some 616 influences, and a large amount of my own development and interpretation of this character. Basically, I am trying to create an MCU version of her, and since we know next to nothing about her in Ultron, I will be adding a lot of my own original elements in fleshing her out. So her background will have some core ideas taken from 616, especially about her relation to the twins, but changed to fit the teeny bit we know about her from Ultron. After that it’s just me running amok with the character and fleshing her out in original ways, haha.

FC: Noomi Rapace, specifically in Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows

Race: Human, but a genetic mutant like the twins

Age: Currently mid 40s... exact age would depend on the ages of related muses in threads and details of background

Occupation: Usually as a baker or cook in a bakery or tavern type setting. Fortune teller and tarot card reader on the side.

Potential Triggering Material in Threads: Well... Marya deals with a hefty dose of racism, criticism, and/or mockery on an almost daily basis for her nomadic lifestyle and culture (Romani), her religion (Jewish-Polytheistic), and if she’s in the United States, her thick accent and imperfect grammar when speaking non-native languages like Sokovian or English (her native tongue is a Romani dialect). Also, other potential trigger warnings for things like severe head injuries and amnesia.

Negative Personality Traits: Haughtiness and tending to be overly forgiving of people simply because she knows/likes them or is related to them.

Positive Personality Traits: Tenacity, thick skin, but also kindness, empathy, and strong motherly instincts.

Background: Get ready for me to walk all over the comics here, haha, but as I said I’m creating my own largely movie-compliant version of Marya Maximoff. She is a Romani witch in a family in which mutant genes and the ability to successfully engage in witchcraft are somewhat hereditary, especially among females. She and her sister Natalya both had magical abilities, albeit different ones. Marya has dreams that are premonitions of the future, but they are often vague and she may not fully understand the meaning of them until it is too late. She can also glean images or emotions from touching objects or people, a talent she shares with her niece, Wanda. Although the twins believe that she is their mother, Marya is actually their biological aunt. Her sister Natalya is actually their mother, but not long after giving birth, she gave her children to Marya and her husband Django and went into hiding as Magda Eisenhardt in an attempt to throw off the twins’ dangerous father, known as Magneto. At the time, Marya and Django had lost their own son and daughter, and so they welcomed the twins readily. They officially adopted them, and the twins have never been told that their parents were not actually their parents.

Marya’s husband Django was not a mutant, but he was an accomplished pickpocket and thief. Think of that what you will, but what he did helped to support his family and put food on the table when work was scarce, and he taught his adopted son Pietro his skills. This was something Pietro continued to do well into his teenage years in order to support himself and Wanda while they were living on the streets following the bombing they believed killed both of their parents. He also used his skills to assist the poor, disadvantaged, elderly, and sick citizens of Sokovia, a community he and his sister had come to call home. Marya saw stealing in a different way than most, and there was a code to it. Never steal from those who have less than you have. Never steal from family or trusted friends. And in her mind, the Romani people had been placed at an inherent disadvantage simply by virtue of the fact that they were seen as lesser by many European communities, mostly White or at least believing themselves entitled. Because of that, Marya saw Django’s stealing as efforts towards the balancing of wealth and resources back in their family’s direction.

Marya was a kind and loving mother, but she was not afraid to set boundaries for the twins or discipline them the same as their father. However, she did her best to understand, nurture, and accommodate their individual personalities as they grew older. Wanda was shy, quiet, and often obedient, whereas Pietro misbehaved a lot, had trouble focusing on a single task, and had endless amounts of energy. Because the twins were so different, Marya recognized that they needed to be cared for and encouraged in different ways. They didn’t learn the same way or respond to criticism the same way either. Marya always thought it was very important that the twins be nurtured in ways that best suited their personalities and needs, but also helped them grow and improve as people. She did her best to do that, and to make sure Django did the same.

When the twins were six, little Wanda was assaulted by a boy her own age, and the child had cursed him impulsively in her panic and rage. Unfortunately, the budding witch had no idea her curses carried real power, and the boy had a fatal accident the following morning. The boy’s death, rumors of Wanda’s witchcraft, and rumors of Django being a thief are the main reasons why the Maximoff family had to leave Transia and the village they had been living in. They traveled alone in their vardo for a while, joining up with Roma caravans as times. Settling ultimately in Sokovia, they worked toward having a permanent home and were able to purchase an apartment. Everything seemed to be going well for them, until the wars raging around them caught up to them. When the twins were ten, a shell was dropped on their apartment building. Marya and Django fell through the floor, while Wanda and Pietro hid under a bed, ultimately being trapped for two days. Django was crushed and killed by falling rubble, and Marya suffered a severe head injury among other things. This caused her to have amnesia, not remembering who she was beyond her first name.

The twins were saved after two days, but Marya lingered in the rubble for almost four. By the time she was able to crawl out on her own, she was dazed, malnourished, and badly injured. Not remembering herself in her amnesia, she wandered the streets and was taken in by a family who didn’t know who she was. Meanwhile, the twins were taken as wards of the government and were ultimately placed in foster homes that didn’t work out. Marya, once she was at least physically healed, left Sokovia, not realizing that she had a reason to stay. She returned to the nomadic lifestyle she knew, even if she didn’t remember the people she had spent it with.

From here she can go wherever a thread needs her to. She can remain in Eastern Europe, travel to Western Europe, or even make her way to the U.S. Those are the likely places she would end up. After three years, she began to remember who she was, and did attempt to look for her husband and adopted children. She was told that her husband died in the bombing and that the twins survived, but she was never able to locate them. Not many were willing to help her, either because they couldn’t or because they were prejudiced against her way of life and thought the twins were better off in foster care. If they only knew where the twins actually ended up... It breaks her heart that they were never found, because she loved Wanda and Pietro very much, like her own children. She still holds out hope that she will find them someday.

Potential Starter Ideas:

Well, certainly finding out she was still alive would be an interesting plot for a Wanda or Pietro muse, whether before or after the events of Age of Ultron.

What if she saw video on the news of what happened with Ultron in Sokovia and recognized the twins?

She can also be a stand-alone muse for Marvel or non-Marvel muses to interact with, just in her own life. She’s an enigmatic and adventurous sort.

Fun facts: Marya’s innate mutant powers with regard to premonition and gleaning information about people and objects she touches or is near to help her a great deal with her fortune telling and tarot card reading businesses. Perhaps she misleads people doing this, but she sees it as infinitely more authentic than outright playing them without any knowledge of them whatsoever. Also, she feels that if done via tarot cards, palm readings, or other such avenues, the information she does convey to them is better received than it would be if she revealed herself as a witch. She actually does not know anything herself about being a mutant, what that means, or that her witchcraft is something genetic that she is able to do, she only knows that magic runs in the blood of her family, whether it takes the forms that hers and Wanda’s magic does, or more physical forms like Pietro’s. She believes that “the blood of the Old Gods runs in their veins,” which basically means that their bloodline is believed to be an ancient one blessed with favor by various gods of the natural world, some of the same ones they still worship today within the polytheistic part of their religion.

[magioftheseas]

Stirring

For @i-demand-a-hug

Summary: In a post-canon AU where Akechi was temporarily an amnesiac after almost dying, Akira visits him at his work. Things are a little nostalgic for reasons.

Rating: T (?)

Warning: None really except for references to the plot. I guess. Akechi’s a little bitchy but I mean...

Notes: This might seem out of the blue because I’ve never really posted about p5. I haven’t fully played the game. I haven’t fully watched the anime. But I am interested in it because of a friendly friend who I’m writing this for because sOME WEIRDO was harassing them over their valid ship tastes. I may not know much, but I do know shuake is legit, so like, here’s a fic. Also, I’m using Akira Kurusu instead of Ren Amamiya because the former sounds nicer. It’s got that edge.

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

Commission? Donate?

It’s a bad idea to keep coming here.

It’s not the first time he’s thought that. It won’t be the last either. It’s also neither the first nor the last time he found himself in front of the same cafe, staring through the window where a certain waiter was washing tables. When that waiter glanced in his direction, he offered an achingly friendly wave.

And there was the slightest twitch at his lips.

Akira tries not to react, tries to keep his own usual grin as the other walks towards him and opens the door.

“Welcome, again,” is said oh so cheerfully. Perfect waiter behavior, and it never gets less amusing on this person. With their chestnut-brown hair tied back and that auburn gaze now striking. “I’m starting to think you’re obsessed.”

“Am I that obvious?” He fakes sheepishness, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’m actually still gathering up the courage to ask you out.”

Another twitch to those features. And maybe, just maybe, Akira’s heart leaps a little.

“Ha-ha.” The waiter shakes his head. “Well, you haven’t tipped into harassment yet, I suppose. Unless you actually plan on loitering.”

“I’m good with actually paying for something,” he said.

“Then hurry up and come inside.” It was almost snapped at him, but the waiter was back to gentle smiles and a friendly demeanor as Akira followed his lead. He picked up a menu, leading Akira to his usual table, offering that same vapid smile as before. “The usual, I presume?”

“Yeah,” Akira replied, almost absently. “The usual. But maybe something sweet to go with it? Or maybe something spicy. What do you think? Pancakes or curry?”

The waiter froze momentarily, face tightening for a moment. Akira noticed this, and they both reached the threshold of how much they were willing to overlook. If not for the setting, things between them would have erupted on the spot.

Instead, the waiter inhaled sharply, fingers going briefly to his nametag. The name printed on there was just another obvious lie.

“Curry,” was said through gritted teeth. “I think curry suits you best.”

Akechi spun on his heel and stomped away before Akira could say anything else. And he’s really not surprised. He’s nervous as hell, but not surprised. It’s not like brimming tension was unfamiliar when it came to one Akechi Goro.

How nostalgic. He really hasn’t changed from back then at all. Still all fake smiles and broiling with fury. That’s my Akechi alright.

Akira does straighten up, hoping that Akechi doesn’t take this moment to flee the scene. But when he squirms to try and see into the kitchen, there’s not much to look at. Just a bland set piece. Clean, but boring.

When Akechi stepped back out, he avoided his stare. He just went straight to making coffee as if on autopilot, although Akira could definitely criticize his technique. Too much of a shaky hand. Too hasty with the pouring. Not nearly enough creative flair. Clumsy in how he still seemed intimidated by syrup. Endearing in how he was now considerably flustered in handing him the cup.

“I don’t know why you even come here,” he remarked with a huff. “It’s clear I’m still an amateur.”

When I first came here, he was pretty earnest. It was unsettling. Adorable, but unsettling.

“I’m pissed you lied to me, by the way,” Akechi said. “Remember? When I first asked how it was? And you said it was great? Spineless coward.”

Akira shrugged, sipping at his coffee. His face pinched a little at the bitterness of it. Akechi’s messed up the flavor before, and his taste buds are still too refined to overlook it. Still, he offers Akechi an easy grin.

“It’s great. Delicious. I love it.”

“I hate you.”

He can’t help but laugh, especially at how Akechi’s cheeks were steaming red. When Akechi sat in the chair across from him, it was with enough force to cause the table to rattle. The coffee spilled a little onto his lap. It definitely burned through his pants. And Akira kept smiling at him stupidly.

“Your service skills are slipping,” he pointed out. “At this rate, you’re going to get fired.”

“This place is going out of business,” Akechi retorted. “As you no doubt noticed, it doesn’t exactly compare to LeBlanc.”

“I mean, few places do.” Akira shrugged again. “But, I mean, that’s still a shame to hear. I’ll miss ordering from you.”

Akechi’s eyes rolled irritably.

“I’m sure. You definitely weren’t coming here for the food.”

“It wasn’t bad. Do give the owner my regards.”

“I’ll be sure.” Akechi waved his hand. “Considering you were one of the very few regulars, it’ll be appreciated. Although you were also just one of many shallow idiots who only stopped by because you saw a pretty face.”

“You are pretty,” Akira hummed, almost admiringly. Akechi scowled at him.

“Well, great news. I have other jobs you can harass me at. I’ll have to get another to replace this one soon. Bills have to be paid, after all.” Akechi sighed. “And the living expenses just keep building. Just last week, my bathtub broke. Quite the fall from grace, wouldn’t you say?”

“Cheers to adulthood,” Akira chirped, lifting his cup. “You should see my student debt. So many zeroes it could make an old man cry.”

Even now, he got a little weepy remembering. And of course, Akechi giggled at the idea of him in pain. Adorably, at that.

He wanted it to last. He desperately wanted that more than he wanted a lot of things. Of course, Akechi’s smile drops as easily as it comes.

“So,” Akira can only say. “How much do you remember now?”

“Enough.” With a rather cold expression, Akechi pinched at his fringe. “It’s gross, remembering. Like wiggling your way into a second skin. It’s also not fun waking up from the nightmares. The worst part is that there are still things missing. I don’t know what they are and I dread finding out, but I can tell they’re there. Like...there’s some old bastard I’m supposed to hate with every fiber of my being, right? Even more than I hate you.”

“Yeah.” Akira nodded. “There was.” 

“Oh yeah, you and your little posse were in the business of mind control, right?” Akechi asks almost saccharinely. “I remember snippets of that. But I feel like it’s still far beyond my current understanding.”

“I mean, it's complicated,” Akira mutters into his coffee helplessly. “It’d take a while to explain, but it’s impossible these days. For what it’s worth.”

“Mmhm.” Akechi’s gaze was lidded. “Whatever those means were, I did terrible things through them, too.”

Akechi didn’t wear gloves anymore. It’s not the first time this has struck Akira as odd. But he does cast a glance at the other’s fingernails, noting how he had a tendency to pick at them. When he takes and squeezes Akechi’s hand, his first thought is marveling at how cold the skin is.

Akechi’s expression is a complicated one. His eyebrows are knitted, his face pinched like he’s anxious. Akira’s thumb running over his knuckles only causes his brow to furrow more and get his face that much closer to distorting. It’s nothing like in dreams or romantic fantasies, to be sure, but that Akechi has yet to stab his hand with a fork is progress.

“You still haven’t told me where else you work so that I can check up on you,” Akira said. “Will you keep your hair tied up?”

“Yes, but because of the wind not because of you.”

“Ooh, outdoor labor.” Akira crooned. “Will I get to see you lift?”

“I direct traffic, dumbass.”

“Oh, that’s actually terrifying. Too much power.”

Akechi snorted before slipping his hand out of Akira’s grip. Akira lets him, although his eyebrow waggles.

“One sec. The food should be ready.”

Akechi does wipe his hands off before going on his way. Perhaps out of spite. Perhaps out of habit. Maybe he actually was self-conscious about it. If he brought it up, he’d just get shut down so he was stuck pondering. There were many things he could only wonder about these days.

Like what he was doing right now, exactly? What was he hoping to accomplish? With Akechi mostly revived and his memories mostly restored, what was supposed to happen between them next?

“Our relationship is purely about equal terms.”

There was no reason to fight anymore. There was also no reason to see each other. And yet, the idea of just letting Akechi go and turning his back like none of it ever really mattered as if their interactions had only ever been out of necessity...and maybe some of them were. Maybe there were utilitarian exchanges between billiards and coffee.

If he really believed that, he wouldn’t have approached Akechi again in the first place. The sentiment of closure only held so much weight when it came to the messy relationships between messy human beings.

“If we had only met a few years earlier.”

Someday, it’ll be a few years later.

“Eat up,” Akechi announced, setting the plate before him. “Also, hurry. You’re the last customer for today and closing hours are coming up.” Akechi checks his watch. Akira notices that it’s pretty cheap. That the face is cracked. “I have another shift after this.”

“Can I come?”

“Only if you can keep up with a bike.”

“I definitely can.”

Akechi gives him a look but the corner of his lips twist the slightest bit upward. With a faded smile, Akechi taps his broken watch. Akira takes his first bite.

The curry was pretty unremarkable as always, but there was still that bit of spice he liked. There was nostalgia to this moment that helped sweeten the deal. It was overall pleasant, even if it, of course, wasn’t going to last. Still.

“It’s quite the run,” Akechi was muttering into his palm, looking away with a light pink dusting his cheeks. “There’s room on the bike. Just this once.”

He had a good feeling about the future.

[takadasaiko]

Love Me Twice: Chapter Four

FFN II AO3

Chapter Summary: An op pits Jacob against an old enemy, but when a client will only take the best, Gina volunteers him for the job.

Chapter Four

April 2020

The squeal of the train's breaks sounded their approach to the platform as a prim voice announced their imminent arrival and warned commuters to mind the gap. Jacob Phelps adjusted a leather messenger bag on his shoulder, the opposite arm occupied by a pretty young woman with dyed blonde hair and striking green eyes. "Don't be nervous," she said, her tone so light it was almost teasing. "Daddy's going to love you."

Jacob let a small, hesitant smile quirk his lips. "I'm not nervous."

"You're such a bad liar," she laughed as the train pulled up to the platform and the doors opened.

"I am," Jacob lied, risking a glance at his mark. Emily Atwood, thirty-years-old and the only child of the aging CEO of a British conglomerate that he'd been hired to steal data from. It had taken nearly a month of groundwork, but only a couple of weeks once he'd actually made contact with her. She thought he was Jack Tallert, an accountant that had recently been transferred to his firm's London branch.

She was an easy enough mark. Trusting and head over heels for the man she thought he was. It would have been enough to almost make him feel guilty if he ever got invested enough to feel much at all on an op. He let the part he was playing take over and natural charisma and training did their equal parts to get him where he needed to go. He'd always been good at it, even before St Regis, but Bud had helped him hone a skillset that had put him at the top of his class. Thankfully a decade's worth of missing memories hadn't dampened that too much, even if it had left him with a desperate need to fill in his gaps of knowledge that anyone around him would know.

Emily tugged him forward from the train and they started up towards the street above. She chattered away about their dinner plans and if they should see a movie that weekend. Or a play. She'd prefer a play. They had a lovely cast for…

Jacob nodded at all the right moments, picking up on key words but otherwise focused on the plan as they stepped out into the cool spring afternoon. The client that had hired him needed a set of plans that were being tightly guarded by the company's security. No one under the fortieth floor even knew that the product was on the horizon, and no one under the fiftieth had access to the details mapped out to make it happen. Emily's father would have them on his computer, certainly, but that was risky. Daniel Atwood's personal assistant should have them too. She had been Jacob's original in for direct access, but it didn't take a lot of research to find out that he was nother type. She would be out to lunch - a very nice lunch with her girlfriend that Jacob has pulled a discrete favour to make happen - so no one would be there to watch her computer. His cell phone was already set to connect with her laptop from the office next to hers, so all he had to do was keep the conversation going while the tech did the heavy lifting. If he played his cards right he'd be on a flight Stateside in just a few hours.

"What do you think?"

The words pulled him out of his thoughts and Jacob blinked hard. "That's a…. good idea?" he tried.

Emily smiled sweetly at him and reached forward, adjusting the collar on his overcoat. "I promise it's going to be just fine. Don't believe everything you hear about him on the telly."

"I've got you with me. What could go wrong?"

"That's the spirit." She tipped up on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before letting her hand slide down into his and tugging him into the building after her.

                                                   -------

McCready had always had a strict radio silence rule. No contact until the op was finished. If you broke that rule, it better be mission critical or he'd burn you faster than you could start stuttering out your excuse.

The reasoning behind the rule had been proven time and again over the years, and it was one that Gina hadn't seen any benefit in changing during her four years that she had been leading St Regis now. Funny, even after she'd proven she wasn't someone to be trifled with, there was always the one idiot that thought he was different. That thought he could push her around. That's what brought her to moments like this one.

April in New York City could bring snow or sun, but that particular Thursday morning it was somewhere in between. She sat at a table in Union Square Park, tablet in hand. Jacob would have teased her for it, saying that if she were a spy worth her salt it would have been a newspaper. She couldn't fully blame him. It wasn't his fault he was a decade behind the times, not that he would have made the choice if he wasn't. He'd always been a fan of old spy tropes.

A scream for a doctor drew Gina's attention and she looked up to see what the crowd around her saw: a congressman home from DC's walk in the park with his wife turned dangerous as he clutched at his chest, hunched over to the point that he was melting towards the ground. She watched as people circled around, finally closing off her view. People were on their phones. Some were calling for help, others hoping for their five seconds of fame once they uploaded the video to whatever platform they thought would get the most views or get snatched up by one of the 24-hour news networks to play again and again until something more interesting came along. The congressman would never make it to the hospital, though. That's what he got for breaking protocol.

She put her tablet to sleep and leaned down to fit it back into her bag, ready to make her exit. When she straightened, though, she wasn't alone at her table. A woman had claimed the seat across from her, utterly unphased by the drama taking place a few yards away, and her icy blue stare was fixed on Gina.

The woman was thin, red hair fighting the grey that should have stolen the colour at this point in life, and well dressed. She tilted her head a little to the side, studying Gina carefully. "You don't look bothered."

"Neither do you," Gina answered, slipping easily into a New York accent.

A very small smile tilted the corners of the newcomer's lips, amused, but her gaze remained sharp. "Your accent's good."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yes you do. Let's not waste time."

Gina felt a nudge against her boot under the table and she risked a glance down to see that the woman had pushed a backpack towards her. "They don't like unattended bags here. Makes people nervous."

"I'd say you better check it out then."

She was playing a game, that much was obvious, but something in Gina could respect that. It wasn't just anyone that could sneak up on her, especially on high alert. This woman had been in the game, even if she wasn't currently. She knew what she would find in the bag even before reaching under the table for it. Her fingers ghosted along the stacked bills and she let her own lips quirk upward, her accent slipping back to her own. "Are you trying to propension me?"

"Absolutely. I want your best man for a job."

"I don't know you."

"You don't know most of your clients. That's why you vet people." The woman held a card between two fingers and Gina read the name Brigitte Tremblay in scrawled text. "Take a look - deep as you want - and give me a call."

"What's the job?"

"Protection. That's all I say until we have a contract in place. Do your due diligence and give me a call at the number on the other side of the card. I'll get you the qualifications I'm looking for so that you can choose your best operative."

Sirens sounded and Gina risked a look on instinct. When she turned back, Brigitte Tremblay was gone, her card and bag of money the only sign she'd ever been there at all.

                                                  -------

It was exhausting playing the boyfriend sometimes. Bud had loved putting him in those roles. He'd said Jacob was born for them. Gina was less interested, but this job had needed a skilled operative that could manipulate many moving parts and make sure that it all came together quickly. Two months was their limit. Jacob was managing it in less, even if he would be due a bonus for having to deal with the nonstop droll of suckups that followed Emily Atwood around hoping to get a good mentioned to her dear ol' daddy. She wasn't bad, but the people that surrounded her took every ounce of skill he had to smile at rather than snap their necks. With the way things were going, he'd be lucky if they made it up to her father's floor by next week.

"I'm so sorry, Alistair," Emily said, the grip she took on his hand pulling Jacob out of the stupor that Alistair's story had put him into, "but Jack and I were supposed to meet Daddy twenty minutes ago. Do say hello to Martha for me."

Jacob offered a small grimace that was supposed to be a smile as Emily pulled him away and towards the elevators. Once the doors were closed she sank back against the far wall. "They're exhausting."

"Least I'm not alone in that," he chuckled.

The lift wouldn't budge an inch until she swiped her badge, entered a code, and pressed her thumb against a reader to take them all the way to the top. Jacob saw the small signs of worry and reached out, his touch against her arm soothing. "Hey. Don't worry about them."

"It's hard not to. They're vultures. Everyone wants something from him. From us. It's hard to know what's real."

Jacob offered a reassuring smile and shoved that irritating tickle in the back of his mind away. It had been with him for the last couple of years. Since the op that stole his memories. He didn't know what it meant or why it happened, but it cropped up at the most inconvenient of times.

The elevator dinged and emptied them into the hallway. Emily led them around the corner and towards the CEOs suite at the end. The office next to it - Atwood's personal assistant's office - was already dark, meaning she was likely gone for lunch. Perfect. Jacob waited until Emily had fully passed the empty office before casually slipping his hands into his pockets, deft finger working to set his phone to send the signal. He caught the light from the computer waking up out of his peripheral, no one the wiser of it. The only thing he had to do now was keep the conversation going until the files had transferred and he could be Stateside again in under twenty-four hours.

Emily tapped on the frosted glass door as she pushed it open. "Sorry we're late. We...oh."

Jacob followed up behind her to see what had stopped her. Daniel Atwood stood tall and as imposing as he appeared in press releases, but he wasn't alone. With him was a smaller man. Persian. Asal Younes. Not that that would be the name he would have given Atwood. It looked like St Regis wasn't the only one after the intel.

He hadn't seen the man in years, but they had certainly left an impression on each other. Younes had gotten an upper hand on him and managed to leave Jacob with a broken collarbone and cracked ribs, but Jacob had returned the favour with a bullet lodged in the other man's chest and a second to the gut. As far as he knew they hadn't seen each other since, but grudges like theirs didn't dissipate with time. They festered.

"Sorry, love. This will only take a moment," Atwood said and turned back to his conversation.

"Alex Sharif," Emily said very quietly. "He handles Daddy's security."

Well that was interesting. Either Younes has found an in through security- a risky play - or he'd given a cover name to Atwood when he hired him to protect the intel, which didn't make sense. Either way, there was no question he'd been recognized, only how it played out.

He stood frozen in his place, mentally calculating every exit available to him, when he felt Emily's hand slip into his. "Let's wait outside."

She led him out and nodded as he made an excuse to slip off into the restroom to check the status bar on the phone. At ninety percent completion, this might just work. Whatever Gina was paying her new tech guru, it wasn't enough.

The door to the restroom opened and Younes' lips quirked up into a dangerous smile, gun already in hand. "I had heard a rumour that you'd gotten out of the game, either by choice or by force, but here you are. Hands on the counter."

"You've got it wrong."

Younes snorted and motioned until Jacob turned and placed his hands facedown on the counter as instructed. "Not even you can talk your way out of this. What's this?" He pulled the phone out of Jacob's pocket.

"Just downloading some tunes," he answered flippantly.

"Corporate espionage is a crime, my friend."

"So's trafficking, murder, and a half dozen other things you specialize in, so what's your point?" He risked a glance out of the corner of his eye and saw his moment. Jacob kicked out, heel of his boot connecting with Younes' knee with a sickening crack, and he spun to go for the gun. He caught the other man's wrist in time to throw the shot from it wide and shoved Younes back hard against the wall. He dropped the gun as expected, but then slammed his head forward to send Jacob reeling back. Definitely not expected.

Jacob staggered, struggling to blink through black spots that were dancing in front of his vision, and pulled himself around in time to block the next blow. Arms up, a fist collided with his forearm rather than his face and he swung around with his elbow to clock Younes in the temple. The other man crumpled hard and Jacob grabbed the gun from the floor and stuffed it in the back band of his slacks.

A couple of curious people were already at the bathroom door as he stepped out, the commotion gaining their attention. Jacob motioned behind him. "Two guys just went at it in there. Someone should call security."

He pulled his phone out, making a beeline for the elevator and hoped beyond hope that he had what he needed. His lips quirked up at the corner at the sight of a completed status bar and he slammed the heel of his hand into the down button for the elevator. It didn't immediately open for him and he risked a look up to see some asshole had taken it down to the ground floor.

The bathroom door slammed open behind him and he turned, finding Younes stumbling his way out. There was no way that the elevator would make it in time and if they had it out in front of all of these people, someone was bound to snag a photo for identification. The stairwell it was.

Jacob took the two flights up to the roof rather than the fifty-some-odd flights down. At least there wouldn't be cameras up there.

He burst through the door to the roof, and dialed a number. "It's Phelps. I have the intel. Have the plane waiting at Luton Airport. I'll be coming in hot." He reached for the gun and pressed his back against the brick wall of the outer stairwell, eyes squeezed closed and he waited.

The door opened and he leapt into action. He swung around, but Younes was ready for him. He knocked the shot wide just as Jacob had done before, but Jacob used the momentum to swing him around. The two men slammed hard to the gravel roof, rolling and punching and fighting. "You really don't let things go, do you?" Jacob growled, from his place pinning the other man down.

Younes slammed his knee into Jacob's left side and threw him off. He landed hard enough that it took a half second longer than it should have for him to regain his bearings. Younes was on him when he did and he kicked up, catching him in the middle and vaulting him over.

He heard the startled yelp before his mind registered just how close to the edge they were. Jacob rolled to his stomach and pushed himself up, feeling the damaged muscles in his left side pull painfully as he shuffled his way to the edge of the roof where Younes was hanging by his fingertips. He peered over and tilted his head curiously. "Just not your day, is it?"

"You son of a bitch."

Jacob snorted and turned. "Always sucks to see you, Younes," he called over his shoulder and heard another yelp as Younes finally lost his grip.

                                                  -------

He hadn't slept on the flight. Between verifying that the data made it to the intended recipient and coordinating with the cleaning crew to wipe all physical traces that he'd ever come into contact with the Atwoods, there hadn't been time. He'd just put his phone down to slouch deeply in the comfortable seat when he felt the rumble of the gears coming down and the pilot reminded him that they'd be landing soon. He must have missed the first announcement.

Both landing on the private airstrip and the drive back to the St Regis compound were a blur as exhaustion started to really set in. He needed a shower and maybe a very long nap. Food could wait.

Hot water poured over knotted muscles. Jacob leaned forward, palm pressed against the shower wall to keep him on his feet as watched as red-tinged water circled down to the drain, rinsing the remaining blood from his skin and hair that he hadn't been able to scrub off from his fight with Younes.

The shower door opened behind him and Jacob nearly lost his footing as he turned. Gina gave him a playful, dangerous smile as she barred the door. "Hello, handsome. How was London?"

"Successful. The data's been transferred and will be released as soon as the funds are."

"Just what I want to hear."

Her gaze traveled him up and down and he snorted a laugh, shaking his head. "You planning on joining me?" There was always the crash at the end of an op. It had never been something he'd dealt with particularly well, but the last couple years had proven even more difficult. He woke up at all hours with whatever he was dreaming about - or remembering- just out of reach and the strangest sensation that something wasn't quite right. The job usually helped distract him. Sex wasn't bad either.

Gina frowned. "As much as it pains me to say, you don't have time."

"I just got back from a two month job. I think I've got time," he countered, but her look said it all. Okay. That was a quicker turnaround than normal. "Guess I don't, huh?"

"Everything we have for you is in the file on your bed. Your meeting with Brigitte Tremblay in the City at eight. I'd wear more than that."

"What's the job?"

"Don't know. She said she'd only tell our best."

Gina turned to leave and Jacob pulled in a breath. He was going to need a cup of coffee.

                                                  -------

Jacob had always liked New York City. Violent homes as a child had taught him to read situations to survive, but as a teenager on the streets he'd sharpened those skills. New York had been a training ground in watching a wide range of people and mimicking every inch of their visible personalities. By the time Bud had picked him up by fourteen he was well on his way to fitting comfortably into any other skin but his own. Now, years later, he'd managed to turn it into a lucrative career.

The file Gina had given him was thin with only the name of the client - Brigitte Tremblay - along with the brief background run on her and her list of requirements. She had deep enough pockets to dictate terms, from the sound of it.

Brigitte Tremblay sat alone at a table just outside of a bakery, red hair peeking out from under a hat and over the scarf around her neck. She was a striking woman in her late 50's, her sharp blue gaze discreetly watching every person that passed by. She was good. A professional of some form or fashion, which left Jacob curious why she'd decided to hire out. There was only one way to find out.

"Ms Tremblay," he greeted as he circled around, but nothing about her reaction signaled that he had startled her. Just the opposite, her thin lips quirked up ever so slightly at the corners as if she'd won a bet Jacob wasn't privy to.

"Brigitte, please," she answered and motioned to the chair across from her. The file Gina had given him indicated that she did business in Canada, but there were hints of other locations in her accent. "You must be the top operative I was promised."

"From the little information you were willing to provide, yeah," he answered as he took the seat.

Her smile didn't fade as she studied him. Those piercing blue eyes lingered on him long enough that even Jacob felt the impulse to squirm under the observation. "What exactly are you looking for?"

"The best, like I told your boss." She leaned down and pulled a file from her oversized purse at her feet. It was thicker than hers, but she didn't hand it over immediately. Instead she held it up as if it were a prize to be earned. "I expect full confidentiality in this operation. Once you take the job you will speak to no one about me, about what's in this file, or anything connected to it. Not even your boss, do you understand me?"

"I got it."

She held his gaze. "Do you? I don't accept failure."

Jacob held that intense gaze without budging. "There's a reason my boss sent me rather than any number of operatives. I get the job done. No matter what. Your secrets are part of that job."

There was a beat of silence between them as Brigitte seemed to consider what he'd said. There was a shift, so small that Jacob almost missed it, before she said, "I'm glad we understand each other," and handed over the file.

Jacob opened it to find a photo of a young woman staring up at him. "So what do you need from Elizabeth Keen?" he asked, the name striking an almost-memory as it left his tongue. A hospital bed, everything around him blurred, and a denial. He didn't know any Keens.

"Are you alright?"

Jacob blinked hard, finding Brigitte staring at him. He mentally shook it off. "Sorry. Jet lagged. You were saying?"

"I was saying I want her protected."

"Protected? Why? From who?" He flipped through the notes. "She's a fed."

"Yes she is."

"So what's the connection?"

"She has something of mine. Until I'm ready to retrieve it, I need her out of harm's way. You'll find a number of potential threats I've already uncovered. My guess is there are more."

Jacob flipped through the dossier. The files contained notes about a task force she was a part of, outstanding cases that might pose a threat, and one name that caught his eye. He looked up at his new employer. "Her CI…"

"I'd suggest you stay off his radar. No one should see you. You'll be her shadow. You'll report any new or evolving threats to me unless they put her in immediate danger. I've rented an apartment for you to work out of under the name Thomas Henderson."

"I develop my own covers."

"Not this time." She tilted her head a little. "You do look like a Tom," she mused and stood. "The details for your cover are in the back of that file and this-" she reached for her bag, pulling a burner phone from it - "is for you to contact me. Remember, Tom, she's not to see you."

"That won't be a problem."

"It better not be. Good luck."

Jacob watched as she walked away, a strange and uneasy feeling settling over him as he turned his attention back to the file in hand, Special Agent Elizabeth Keen staring up at him.

                                                  -------

TBC

Notes: Bonus points to anyone that recognizes the name Younes from canon. Hint: Tom mentions the name a whopping one time with another name as someone that might be after him. If you guess you will earn the author's eternal entertainment and virtual cookies.

Also, for those that have been worried about Gina being an issue... please know this is short-lived and only because Gina's taking advantage of the situation. Deep breath, my friends. The Keens will actually cross paths quicker in this story than the last Tom Lives! AU that I wrote.

Next Time: Liz works with Katarina, Red gives the Task Force a new Blacklister, and Jacob tries to figure out who Maddie Tolliver is and what her connection might be to Elizabeth Keen.

[tenaciouscupcaketaco]

1989-2020 Poetic Work Of Mario William Vitale

1989-2020 Poetic Work Of Mario William Vitale (Manuscript of Poet Mario William Vitale) From 1993-1997 - Attended State University in Connecticut,Attempted plays : Tartuffe, Miracle Of St. Anthony and Balm in Gieade,( His poetic aspirations had in 1989 from submitting his first poem entitled, "Remembrance Of A Loved One"- (Sparrowgrass Poetry Forum)Next from 1989-1997 ( Wrote primarily for Poetry.com and The International Library Of Poetry),* Received editors choice award in 1997 for poem, " A Beacon Of Light ",(1998) Sent poetic manuscript to N.Y. Time Magazine and Chief Editor " John Hyland".Back with rave reviews !* ( From 1999-2008:Had adapted a real keen sense of style for writing poetry: ( 1999- Sent Editorial to:New Man Magazine for the Passion of Christ Movie;Sent followup letter to company with poetry platform information attached,* 2000-2007 : Magazine : ( Catholic) Maries Rose Ferron Magazine submitted poem" Beacon Of Light", which had excellent editorial reviews as the outset !2008- Wrote poem entitled: ( The Heavy Cross) to Poetry.com* Achieved Poetry status of work of Excellence in writing from the Academy Of American Poetry in which still having received rank and status as a member of Academy;* ( The Connecticut Poetry Society)* Short story submitted entitled, "China Dog Ray" submitted to Virginia WritersQuarterly, West Virginia, Also having member status on their board of Poetry.* ( Attribute Poetry to an ever increasing love of God and his unconditional love that he has for us in return,Thankfulness toward family and friends.( To our past ancestors who fought to uphold freedom that far too many of us take for granted ?One needs a pure heart that's fixed on truth,This is in order to withstand the true great test of time !Life is way too short,Press toward the goal or mark of our high calling that is in Christ Jesus The Lord !~My contempoarry artists include that of ellan Bryant Voight, Kay Ryan and carl Phillips.Which all three are Participants in the Academy Of American Poetry.* Having been a member since 2006,My work reflects the likes of past poets such as C.S.Lewis, Hawthorne and edgar Allen Poe.Most of my work reflects with the values of religious beliefs intact,( In my personal view it is essential in demonstrating a real heart of creativepassion !The reader I believe will benefit by my artistic style of development in a verypositive light.)To further the need for poetry to become more main stream, Mario Vitale was born in Bristol , Ct Has developed a skill for writing poetry in the free verse form. has been featured on Hubpages.com, Starlitecafe.com & Poetry soup. Vitale lives with his elderly mother Ann Soulier in Wolcott, Ct. Currently has written well over 1,000 poems & 2 short story's toward credit platform. Vitale has taken the poetic world by storm being featured on Google, Yahoo & MSN. Looks up to contemporaries in the poetry industry such as John Ashbery & Major Jackson. Has been a favorite featured poet reader at Barnes & Noble in Waterbury, Ct. Also featured on such sites as Poetry soup, Writer's café & Neo Poet. Mario William Vitale 1 Winfield Drive Wolcott, ct 06716 A Beacon Of Light Written by: Mario Vitale A beacon of light to a much hurting world in need ! Can't help but to claim.., Some sense of identity, Stregnth and encouragement only come from above ! Amidst in the distance, the trapped seagull.., Lieth frightened but still yet adrift ! In a most vengeful fashion striking the passing fish, A true source of hope, Yet a most triumphal beam ! This beacon of light shineth forth, Passerby's can err' escape the helping hand.., To the most sparkling of radiance ! (2)Thanksgiving Dinner by Mario Vitale Home for the holiday from New Orleans, with Mother and Father at the tiny drop leaf, brown rosewood, mahogany table with the gold, grinning claw feet; Father, choler- red-in the-face, short- sleeved white shirt and cane, says the blessing as Mother brings in the turkey and cranberry. Then Mother asks, “Won’t you have more?” and father : “Do you think Moll Flanders was a *****?” (I have suffered and bleached my hair blond.) I am silent before their replies. Mother sighs. “I can scarce speak to her.” And Father, too, quotes Shakespeare. (I am thin as paper and the rose- colored bowl of blown glass sitting on the silver stand, half- filled with water.) “How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless daughter” (3) Song of Spring Today I heard a robin sing heralding the coming spring A song of exultation to the sky an ode to earth's awakening I saw a willow on the hill It's branches greening in the sun and all the earth seemed hushed & still sleeping streams began to run I heard a softly rising breeze whispering through the grass singing through the still bare trees waiting winter's chill to pass I saw the sun, so bright and warm warming the earth after the rain the buds and leaves, no frost to harm at least, at last, it's spring again. (4) The Ancients It's my last day with the old giants In mourning I hike the lost trails, sniffing the aroma of the bark, that cinnamon of the forest Under tepees of wood in a membrane of shadows, I stalk the earth, its mammal traces, its elusive tracks, to sit on a fallen log where spiders macramé, moss sloping to my knees unaware of invisibles within, grubbing in their tunnels A lizard taps my foot, responding, I muse to its touch, my thoughts like Indian visions, And when daylight mushrooms into night, and an owl hoots from cedar, I still sit with a lizard on my shoe Huddled with the ancients of the woods (5) Epiphany Written by: Mario Vitale It clings to the cliffed shore, to the wintered face of the thistle path, to the fingers of the old man's glove as he waves his memory homeward In that breath between come and go she moves up from the bay; gold turns her stride, the line of her dress, the soft sea pulling at her feet When he reaches out and the frail birds fly and the sun and the sky have married deep into the sea, it clings Even as his shadow threads retreat, it clings, even now as it dissolves to mist (6) A Return Home, Only Time Will Tell Written by: Mario Vitale Oh blessed hope ! Both hardly a believable dream, Sweltering heat with bloodshed in the street... Send the troops home ! There is no clear reason for them to roam.., These are desolate times ! For we have chosen ill faded rhymes.., The casualties are enormous ? For a stated cause that clearly atrocious.., A mother's cry as the door chime rings, A vanishing salute to freedom as the church choir sings ! Let us look above to all the heavenly love.., Merciful one, take this chip off my shoulder.., Stop the senseless fighting before our dear nation grows a bit colder, Suddenly, seeds were dropped out of a farmers bag, In time roots spring up fresh out of the fertile soil... As the sun heats up, Time will tell when this harvest will soon boil... In the vast game of life, One's time is so very brief ! The soul yearns for its' heavenly relief.., Share with others who may want to turn over a brand new leaf.., Time will tell of the true importance of helping one another, To never give into the finish line.., Nor harsh criticism that our society puts out ! Like a famous fighter in his final bout ! Time will tell of the return home, To the open arms of a loved one ! (7) A Valiant Knight Written by: Mario Vitale A Valiant Knight Death springs a new day basking in the breeze In solemn moments lets pause to think of a place A far off castle in the mountains away from it all A valiant knight lived in the structure of it's dwelling Those days of old where mere men had a noble demise A beautiful maiden was in waiting for her knight He would often fight for the cause of stregnth and dignity The draw bridge where the castle stood had a very unique aura A mystery of sort sought up in the vast array of crowned nobility For the king on his thrown was humble yet greedy Always would take care of himself caring nothing for the needy A valiant knight was concerned about the kings trust Often they would disagree on who it was to serve A joker came in front of the king one day with a magic wand Waving the wand in the air then there floated ivy everywhere For the court jester was a fool in the making of his legacy The maiden would often come forth and see For she treasured a red rose that was plucked sometime before Cherished the calling of her stature to the glory of the throne A valiant knight would often sing sweet songs in the night Had a following of village people that would sit before his feet Having a way of words that he would often share The castle was filled with dragons and warlocks searching for love A cause to be brave amidst uncertainty of the kingdom The legacy of golden capulets filled ardent vestibules Let us toast to the valiant knight who keeps a watch on all that is good (8) Hampton Beach The smell of fresh fry doe Time had elapsed playing at the casino Fresh lobster with a side order of fries Those spacious wonderful sky's Down at the shell the continental were playing A walk by the lady of a statue in waiting Flip flops and the sound of laughter A playground for kids in the middle The boardwalk with seagulls flocking over head Fire works in the midnight air with a cheer (9) God's World It is raining again. Summer will be over before it ever gets here Thunder rolls far away, drops hit the windshield, the sky turns gray The Sunflower, the blue Delpinium, the white Stinkwood drink the moisture greedily. The green and silver leaves of the Aspens sparkle as the rain hits them, and the wind turns them round and round The creek flows on, oblivious to the change in the weather. A break in the clouds allows a bit of sun to hit the side of a towering mountain Three cows slowly wend their way homeward. It is dusk. The gray clouds lift and the sun bursts through, before sliding behind the hills for the night It is God's World. He gives it to us to enjoy and to share with each other (10) Jake's House There was a man whose name was Jake Who had a house upon the lake Every morning he would wake And for breakfast have a piece of cake He had a private fishing hole; He always used a long cane pole He fried his fish on red hot coal And served it in a great big bowl For a pet, he had a cat (11) In The Zone Written by: Mario Vitale In The Zone whispers... through the dark deranged portals you evoke fear filled with angelic fervor on it's textual base yet we dig much deep then ever before cries in the dark will light the spark of what we need to know still we stand idle as the average novice introduces its spell along again then the sadness evokes a newer feeling dwindling through the vain extraction of the never world we visually see a flash then a new day approaches on the lawn two lovers having passionate *** the screams of vile extreme explodes throughout perhaps this is the place where Nero tread yet again I sit alone in my house now huddled in the corner the twilight sun has tainted my inner vision the howls of Satanic laughter gives a piercing shriek through a candle was lit by the edge of my bed One can remain lax in the quietness of the moment yet again the setting of the sun a new day has begun as we embark on the moment Does death hurt you the most or is it fear You can equate logic through a firm grasp of the hand whispers again... then a faint cry, we construct living pyramids to honor the dead A stroke of luck an the impulse ensues onto so much more but for what are we grasping for straws what are we searching for ? quietness again this time I'm in the zone as if zombie creatures with viscous long fangs that bite dripping blood off side we run away to hide no one questions anymore no one has a voice alone one last time yet feelings of grandeur awake to the message of hope that spills from the sky a challenge to be free is a question of time eyes with spots digging holes in a pool of blood Satan laughing again spreads his wings Suddenly I awake but to what ? (12) An End Of The Age Of Innocence Part III Written by: Mario Vitale In our fast paced twentieth century world.., We oft' have neglected to stop to smell the roses, Oft' we used to bow our heads silently to pray, As we reflect back to the sixties is had launched a pad to rebellion ! With a vast amount of liberal bias and thinking, No wonder why our nation is sinking.., Sinking amidst a cuss pool of mere morality.., For now it is a quite different time, A very unique but different type of day.., An end of the age of innocence, One hath been enlightened.., From seeking truth, Some fresh out of a garbage can.., Yet for Gods' sake, He hath such an amazing plan ! Hence, to shun the broad road, Yet to seek to venture in the narrow.., Such as a distant bird in flight ! You might see this creature venture out at night ? Of the Eagle nor the Sparrow.., It used to mean something to have a sense of common courteous.., To hold open the door for your neighbor ? Yet for the time being we relent and waiver.., Would you prefer another taste of a certain ice cream flavor ? To ponder we must be content with who we are in the inside.., Nor, a mere fancy suit or blazing sport's car, Life is a roller coaster.., In what you do while busy making other plans.., Finding solace among the height of nature., Such to think at what is quite simple, As a young child reflects on his or her poster board, Playing with their magic crayons.., For in eternity it is such a very long time ! Take heed in what you do, Now is the expectant hour ! What will one choose to do ? There can be no place nor need for any compromise, Within it's vast perpetual spectrum ! One just can't put a price tag on a genuine but unique heart ! Hence, with honest integrity.., The time for change is today ! (13) He Was There by Mario William Vitale From the inner silence of the lamb he was there In welcoming to the world to share Within the multiple of words the mouth speaks As a heart beats through the passage of time To every poem that was ever written To every burden ever lifted To rivers crossing where people living Sometimes loving other moments giving In storms that were outside brewing What is the significance of this love In painted pictures from above To every soldier in a battle To every cow amidst the cattle Not a second glance at any real romance A field of dreams throughout our head From both fire and ice will make you think twice Perhaps another chance at a roll of the dice When every kingdom comes thy will be done Shadows in the shining morn if there's a rose it bears a thorn, He was there in every circumstance When they tried to throw stones at her He was there drawing a line with his finger in the sand It is my hope that some day all will understand A glance at the past will tell us of our future Amidst the inner pain & uncertainty Through shadows in a field of dreams In moments of solace amidst the pain A light moved out upon the street outside A day that wasn't meant to be Thorn crown was pulled upon his head Those shouts of intense anger from the mob There was only one who would help him back on his feet, A light that brought only a few to greet Let us not run away & hide Each one of our sins was placed on that cross To lose the battle now would end in tragic loss Father please forgive them for they know not what they do He said the prayer now the rest is up to you That cross that broke a sinful world apart With his blood-soaked crown with spear in side To show the whole world he had nothing to hide The summoned cry brought about healing in the sky Watch the free angelic dove fly! (14) Momma Of Pearls by Mario William Vitale Since there's nothing I could find That was worth giving you, I sat down to think a while And write a line or two If I had a magic wand I'd wave it just for you, And give you anything you'd like No matter how many or few If I could give you back the years You so willingly gave to me I'm sure that you spend them over again The same as they used to be Remember when those days and nights Instead of going to the fair I'd always say tell me again The story of the three little bears I tried to get a strawberry pie But they were out of season Then I thought of gold Mario William Vitale Written by Mario William Vitale 48/M/Wolcott, Ct 310 Please log in to view and add comments on poems

[cela-astral-projection]

Aric/Aedan Vernersson Character Survey

Basic Character Questions

First name? Aric. Psuedoname is Aedan 

Surname? Vernersson 

Middle names? Axel 

Nicknames? Brother 

Date of birth? September 23rd 

Age? Early to mid-twenties (died around his 25th birthday), but he's quite responsible for a young man. 

 Physical / Appearance

Height? 6'3

Weight? 240

Build? Buff but still soft. 

Hair color? Pale yellow/white. 

Hairstyle? Long, thick and wavy hair that is usually pulled back 

Eye color? Silver 

Glasses or contact lenses?: He wears glasses when he has to do a lot of writing or reading for eyestrain, but other than that, he has excellent vision. 

Distinguishing facial features? He's not big on shaving, so he generally has some form of facial hair. 

Which facial feature is most prominent? His jawline. 

Which bodily feature is most prominent? His arms or his monster hands. 

Other distinguishing features? Bright silver eyes. 

Skin? Tawny brown, like his mother's. 

Hands? Ginormous meat hooks. 

Makeup? Not his thing. Lucio made him put on his eyeliner once. It melted in the sun, and he swore it off because it burned his eyes. 

Scars? His hands are a little rough, and he's got a few cuts up his arms, but nothing too pronounced. 

Birthmarks? Some darker brown pigmentation on the back of his arms. Pretty faint. 

Tattoos? He has some sun paintings (one on each pec) reminiscent of the rock art from his village on his chest in a dark sienna color.

Physical handicaps? Bone spurs on his heels, but that's just an annoyance. 

Type of clothes?: It depends on what he's doing. In the palace, he wears grey and charcoal with red and gold accents. When he's just going about his day, he wears lightweight linens in a rainbow of colors. 

What are their feet like? (type of shoes, state of shoes, socks, feet, pristine, dirty, worn, etc.) Like I said, the boy has bone spurs on his heels, so they were already giant monster feet, but that just adds to their length. He takes good care of his feet. He likes high-quality boots and shoes. (Unlike his sister who would go barefoot everywhere.)

Race / Ethnicity?: His father is from Lucio and Morga's tribe, and his mother is one of the southern tribes on the frozen sea. (A/N: for all intents and purposes, I write them as Swedes/Post-Spanish Mission  Chumash Indians because...that's what Kristen (Celeste) and Erik (Aric) are.) 

Are they in good health? Aric was always in generally good health. Until he wasn't... 

Do they have any disabilities? None to speak of. 

(image of Chumash Rock art for tattoo reference) 

Personality

What words or phrases do they overuse? "Yeah, Bud!" 

Are they more optimistic or pessimistic? Optimistic 

Are they introverted or extroverted? Extroverted

Do they ever put on airs? Nope. You won't find a more chill, friendly guy. 

What bad habits do they have? Nail-biting and hair pulling (trichotillomania, but he has to be very, very anxious) 

What makes them laugh out loud?: So many things. And at inappropriate times. 

How do they display affection? Gifts, acts of service. 

How do they want to be seen by others? Reliable, approachable, trustworthy.

Strongest character trait? Seeing the best in others. 

Weakest character trait? Blind loyalty. 

How competitive are they? Very. 

How do they react to praise? He loves hearing praise and being told he's doing a good job. It gives him warm fuzzies. 

How do they react to criticism? He is very open to criticism as long as it's constructive. 

What is their greatest fear? Not being able to save his loved ones. 

What are their biggest secrets? He's an open book. Except for that whole...fake name-Lucio is my cousin thing. (Which he is not terribly good at hiding) 

What is their philosophy of life? How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.

What haunts them? His mother's face when he left home. 

What will they stand up for? Anyone, anytime. 

Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy? Outdoorsy. 

What is their sinful little habit? He wouldn't consider it immoral, but he does indulge in some of the magician's...herbal remedies. 

What sense do they most rely on? Sight. 

How do they treat people better than them? As equals

How do they treat people worse than them? As equals

What do they consider an overrated virtue? Temperance.

If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be?   Probably would do better to realize that some people just can't be reached, but damned if he doesn't try. 

What is their obsession? Fishing and his dog. 

What are their pet peeves? People that touch his food without permission. Aedan doesn't share food! He will buy your food! NO TOUCH. (Though Celeste will note that he has no compunction about stealing her food.) 

Friends and Family

Is their family big or small? Who does it consist of?: Small. Mama, Papa, Sister, and Him. There is, of course, the extended family and his tribe, but the core group was relatively small. 

What is their perception of a family? Family is the most important thing. 

Do they have siblings? Older or younger?: One sister. Same age. 

Describe their best friend. Bit of a ditz. Funny (though it's unclear if he means to be). Dog lover. Drinking buddy. 

Ideal best friend? Someone not afraid to throw their stuff in a satchel and get lost for a day. Bonfire under the stars. Loves dogs. Not scared of touching fish. 

Do they have any pets? Ebba! Borzoi like M & M but with big brown patches and knows how to mind. 

 Past and Future

What was your character like as a baby? As a child?: He was a happy, inquisitive baby. He was rough and tumble, always on the go. Occasionally he’d scare himself (falling) but he only needed to be told that he was okay and he’d keep on going. 

Did they grow up rich or poor? They had no real need for money unless they were traveling, and then they mostly traded for what they needed.

Did they grow up nurtured or neglected? Nurtured. 

What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved? Left them. Wasn't his idea, though. Still feels terrible.

What are their ambitions? Getting to be free and live his own life. 

What smells remind them of their childhood? Woodfire. Briny seawater. Spice. 

What was their childhood ambition? Be the head of the rowers that went out to the islands. 

What is their best childhood memory? Traveling with dad to the surrounding tribes and making friends with other kids. 

Did they have an imaginary childhood friend? No. He had so many friends he didn't have time for imaginary ones. 

 Love

Do they believe in love at first sight? Maybe? His parents had an arranged marriage, and he thinks that's pretty fine.  He likes getting to know people to make sure that what he's feeling is real. 

How do they behave in a relationship? He's all about making his partner feel cherished and comfortable. He likes to move slow...ish. 

What sort of sex do they have? He's not exactly wild. But, he's open-minded. 

Has your character ever been in love? Sure. 

Have they ever had their heart broken? Nah. If he parts with people, it's amicable. 

 Conflict

How do they respond to a threat? Try to reason. If not, try to subdue with as little injury as possible. 

Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? Fists, honestly. If it comes to that. Even then, he'd probably just try to wrestle and pin them. 

What is your character's kryptonite? The concept of someone he cares about being hurt. 

If your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be? His dog. Not an object, but things aren't that important. 

How do they perceive strangers? Never met one. 

What are their phobias? Ophidiophobia, so it's probably good that he never really got to know Asra because Faust would have scared him to death. 

What is their choice of weapon? If he had to really fight, he'd use a one-handed battle-ax. 

What living person do they most despise? Valdemar, but living and person are both kinda uncertain terms. 

Have they ever been bullied or teased? No. Even if he was, it wouldn't bother him. 

Where do they go when they're angry? For a walk. 

 Work, Education, and Hobbies

What is their current job? Head guard of the palace. 

What do they think about their current job? Get to hang out with his bud most of the time, so that's pretty neat. Could do with less having to enforce his stupid decrees (which he finds ways around if he can.) 

What are some of their past jobs? Fisherman and hunter. 

What are their hobbies? Fishing, hunting, falconry, reading. 

Educational background? No formal education. Dad taught him how to read and write, but he didn't have much use for either of those skills until he came to Vesuvia. 

Intelligence level? Himbo-lite. 

Do they have any specialist training? Jack of all trades, master of none. 

Do they play a sport? Are they any good? Rowing and wrestling. 

What is their socioeconomic status? Upper class? Lucio pays well. 

 Favorites

What is their favorite animal? Ebba. 

Which animal to they dislike the most? Snakes. 

What place would they most like to visit? He'd like to travel like his dad did before his parents got married, but he's not picky. 

What is the most beautiful thing they've ever seen? Poppy fields! 

What is their favorite song? No Hurry - Zac Brown Band

Music, art, reading preferred? Reading but music is a close second. 

What is their favorite color? Green or blue. 

Favorite food: Grilled stuffed portobello mushrooms with bleu cheese. 

 Possessions

What is in their fridge: Beer, red wine (that hefty stuff that leaves long tendrils when you swirl it. he likes to chew his wine). Meat, cheese, mushrooms, bread, a lot of veggies. 

What is on their bedside table? Reading glasses and a book. 

What is in their pockets? Money. 

What is their most treasured possession? His dog. But calling her a possession feels terrible. 

 Spirituality

Do they believe in the afterlife? Sure. 

What are their religious views? He believes in spiritual guides, and he believes in magic. Though he is sadly more like his father than his mother in that he really can't cast.

Are they superstitious? He's a little 'stitious. 

What would they like to be reincarnated as? A peregrine falcon. 

How would they like to die? Not the way he did, that's for sure. That sucked. 

What is your character's spirit guide? Duckhawk! 

What is their zodiac sign? Libra. 

 Daily life

What are their eating habits? An army marches on their stomach. He always makes sure to have a decent breakfast, lunch, and dinner. 

Do they have any allergies? Just pollen. 

Describe their home. The palace. His room is pretty spartan. Bed, dresser, desk, couple side tables, mirror. 

Are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder? Minimalist. 

What do they do first thing on a weekday morning? Try to get to the bath before everyone else does. 

What do they do on a Sunday afternoon? Nap or go for a hike out in the woods. 

What do they do on a Friday night? Drink with Lou. 

What is the soft drink of choice? If such a thing existed, it would be original Coke. 

What is their alcoholic drink of choice? He's an appreciator of fine whiskey and wine. But, he won't turn his nose up at a good ale or cider. 

 Miscellaneous

What is their character archetype? The hunter. 

Who is their hero? His dad. 

What or who would your character dress up as for Halloween? Thor. 

Are they comfortable with technology? Ehhhh. Not really. He can use it but would rather not. 

If they could save one person, who would it be? He couldn't pick. 

If they could call one person for help, who would it be? Linnea. 

What is their favorite proverb? Friendship is love with understanding. 

What is their greatest extravagance? Gifts. He buys gifts like the world will end tomorrow. 

Do they believe in happy endings? Sure. 

What would they ask a fortune-teller? Am I doing the right thing?

@vesuviasfastestcourier​ Will this help until I can write more Aedan fic? :)

[advernia]

fic: coloring inside the lines

— as they say, you always need to keep your eyes on the prize. - queen of hearts/alice the second.

1: a bit late, but here’s a happy birthday to one jonah clemence! ◦°˚\(*❛‿❛)/˚°◦

These are a couple of the many things he just learned about the place she calls London:

Women, regardless of their status, are expected to maintain their elegance and decorum whether it be in thought, speech, or deed,

Another commonality, though not openly admitted, would be the pursuit of preserving natural beauty - whether rich or poor, any lady would put in some effort to maintain or enhance her appearance for her own purposes (and through her own means), but;

While makeup - powders, lotions, creams, rouges, lipsticks, you name it - was admittedly a valuable aid to the relentless pursuit, the sheer fact that it was masking one’s true beauty led to the use of makeup eventually frowned upon.

So maybe, just maybe gifting her an elaborate makeup set was not appropriate - oh no, it was totally fine if just not to upset her - never mind the fact that he just spent at least five painstaking hours in the finest cosmetics shop of the Diamonds Quarter, selecting from shelves and shelves of exquisite products with only her in his mind, urging him to focus on picking the most charming of colors and the most suitable of scents that were perfect complements to her loveliness. 

It was just eight bottles of cream and lotion, three different powder jars, six varied shades of rouge, three lip salves and two lip glosses. Not a big problem at all.

True, she hardly needed the aid of any makeup to make herself even more dazzling than she already was in his eyes (though any more effort on her part was something he’d always appreciate), but in Cradle, a man giving a woman makeup as a gift carried different implications:

To give powders, lotions, or creams suggested a budding interest, for the items were for the lady’s daily use. It gave off messages along the lines of ‘remember me’, or ‘I support you’, for example.

Lipstick and rouge had more intimate meanings as both items were applied to the woman’s face - gifting the latter implied that the man was drawn to sight of her and if worn in return, it meant that she was also interested in him and was open to the notion of courtship.

The former was applied to the lips, so this was more of a confirmation: if she wore it, it meant that she accepted his affections entirely and was ‘claimed’ by him; but if not, it meant that she couldn’t reciprocate his feelings, and finally;

Giving a personal and complete makeup set carried all the messages and implications of the aforementioned items but even more than that, it also signified that only he was worthy enough to influence the beauty of his recipient; a clear cut sign of a romantic relationship in bloom.

… Well, it’s not like he wanted her to know that and maybe it’s better if she didn’t; for what truly mattered was her opinion on the subject: did she frown upon the use of makeup as well? Now that he mulls it over, her vanity was spotless, save for the bottles of perfume he gave her in the past and a vase for flowers. 

Or rather than frowning upon it, was she not accustomed to using makeup? She was a confectioner, so perhaps she didn’t bother buying herself any of the sort when she already knew that she’d be too busy in the kitchen all day with little to no chances to mingle with her customers at all.

During their so-called dates the month she landed in Cradle, she didn’t look like she put any trace of makeup on, either. Then again, they were still on… unsavory terms back then, so… 

… Did London also place meanings into certain gifts? If yes, did she ever receive an item conveying -

Jonah Clemence scowls, shaking his head in an attempt to get rid of any more trifling questions in his mind. To vacillate is not characteristic of a Clemence, and if he had any more time to fret, then he might as well head over to her and hear what she had to say about the matter herself. 

                                He gets his answers that night:

Contrary to his fussing, no, she wasn’t upset receiving a very ornate case filled with his five-hour exhaustive effort of fine makeup choices. Instead, she was flustered and taken aback, but after some convincing she takes the box into her hands with a winning smile that makes all those five hours worth it,

She didn’t disapprove of makeup at all and if anything else, she was honestly curious about the whole thing: she tells him that she thinks of it as some form of painting or even decorating, similar to what she did with cakes and pastries - the sudden reference to food was very like her and he snorts at that,

She had a bit of knowledge on how to use certain types of makeup thanks to her friends but true to what he thought, she admitted to rarely using makeup because her job aside, there wasn’t much reason for her to frequently use it in the first place, and;

Yes, London also attached meanings to certain gifts. When he surly asks her if she had been offered gifts with special intentions, she twiddles her thumbs and she stutters, so -

- pinning her against the wall and watching her cheeks flush a shade of pink akin to the rouge he picked out for her, he lowers his lips to the shell of her ear, intentionally allowing his breath to fan over the flesh before whispering in a low voice:

… Were those gifts so wonderful?

Teeth nipping onto her ear, she lets out a small whimper.

                    … Ah, yes, he did get his answers that night.

                                She finally, finally makes good use of his gift for her appearance in the Red Army’s annual ball as his official partner, and he takes it upon himself to observe her in the art of applying makeup on herself.

He did ask her beforehand if she required professional help, but the sheer twinkle in her eyes when she told him that she’d try doing her makeup on her own was an… unfair move, in his book. How was he to say otherwise when she looked at him like that? Well, he’d like to believe that she really did have an inkling on how to use cosmetics, but just to be sure; he insisted in watching her in case she needed help - thankfully, she accepted without question.

Now, seated in the couch of her room where he could also see her reflection clearly in the vanity’s mirror, perhaps he didn’t need to be so critical of her skill at all.

He wasn’t able to properly see her process when she started with the exposed skin of her collarbone, but he’s left staring as her fingers cheerfully and repeatedly traced the curve of her neck to apply a fair amount of the vanilla-scented cream thoroughly, then followed immediately by patting it down lightly with some of the lavender dusting powder. He raises an eyebrow when she extends the same treatment to the nape of her neck - the wavy updo of her hair did leave that part visible to prying eyes…

Next she went about applying rouge onto her cheeks, and he quietly hums his approval upon seeing the color of her choice lightly dust her cheekbones: he had to hand it to her, out of the six rouges in her set, the pastel pink shade was the most suitable pick to complement both her dress and the overall image she was exuding so far - a youthful yet elegant look, the former defined by the light colors of her whole ensemble while the latter through the style of her outfit paired with her tasteful selection in jewelry.

And last but not the least she began to paint her lips, the tip of her index finger somewhat hesitant as she dipped it into a small jar. He sees the fingertip leave the jar tinted with a light crimson stain that she brings up to her parted lips but to land on one corner of her bottom lip, dragging slowly to a center point - she does the same for the other corner and he’s transfixed on her reflection, or rather the way that her finger moves oh-so carefully, oh-so gently across the smooth curve of her lip.

When she smacks her lips together, pulling her lips inward for a brief moment only to release them with a pop, he hears himself swallow a lump down his throat.

He’s still entranced as she continues to add some paint to her upper lip and before he knows it, she was already done with her makeup and had turned around on her seat to face him.

… What do you think?

Eyes snapping back into focus, he did his best to study her from head to toe: lengthy blonde hair tamed into an updo held up by lovely butterfly-shaped adornments, light pink cheeks a nice contrast to the vivid blue of her eyes, a complexion that still appeared natural even under the light, dangling earrings and necklace with beautiful pearls similar to those sewn on the front of her bodice, a tailor-made dress in varying shades of pastel peach flattering her curves in a most discreet manner, dainty feet slipped onto pristine white heels.

Yet…

He rises from his seat to stalk over to where she sat, briefly looking into those expectant eyes gazing back at him before looking down - back down, to those crimson lips.

… Unbelievable.

He barely gives her any time to react when he takes hold of her shoulders and swoops his head to capture her lips urgently in his: a little noise manages to escape her when he presses the tip of his tongue to that same corner of her lips where she first applied the lip salve, then drag slowly to trace the curve of her lips carefully like how he had seen her fingertip do earlier.

If he recalled correctly, the shop owner absurdly stated that the crimson lip salve was a delicious new product made out of a magically brewed concoction of plant butter and oils, then mixed with in with an organic blend primarily made out of strawberries - he dismissed it as nonsense but true enough, what tickles his tongue is a tart, so pleasantly sweet taste as he keeps his lips pressed to hers.

But as delicious as it was, nothing could ever compare to the taste of her so he coaxes her to let him in and she readily complies - as she received the taste of her own lips, he’s again reliving the taste of her mouth.

                                And she’s still as perfectly sweet unlike anything else in the world.

                                When they part for air, their foreheads are pressed together and their heavy breaths mingle, lips only a small distance apart - she meets the heat of an amber gaze with the haze of her of blue, but she does manage to lift a hand up and tenderly touch the delicate skin of his bottom lip with her thumb; wiping away at the faint crimson stains she saw there.

Voice a breathy whisper, she asks:

… Too much lip salve?

                    He laughs softly before setting her hand on the back of his neck, then leans over to kiss her again.

                    2: an interesting survey distributed in the office yesterday listed some… specific turn-ons, and this is one of them lol - it’s phrased as: taking a keen interest watching your partner apply makeup on themselves… weLL… lowkey spicy times, amirite ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ 3: on that note, makeup isn’t my thing but studying victorian era makeup was pretty fun and so was giving some meaning to cradle makeup, lol! thought those on the top of my head, and i think jonah would probably be the type to be hung over the meanings of certain types of gifts given the occasion + recipient, haha!