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serephinastardust · 9 months

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Ariels' Villain story Draft 1 Chapter 1

In the kingdom of Atlantica, where sunlit waves danced with laughter, I, Ariel, reveled in the rhythm of my world. With vibrant red hair that mirrored the coral reefs and a voice as enchanting as the ocean breeze, my days were a melody of joy and exploration.

As the youngest daughter of King Triton, my heart was as boundless as the sea. Charmed by the wonders above the surface, I yearned for a life beyond the confines of my underwater palace. My curiosity, much like Flounder's playful antics, was insatiable, and every hidden cove held the promise of new discoveries.

Yet, amid the laughter and songs that echoed through the kingdom, a current of longing swept through me. Prince Eric, with his emerald eyes and gallant demeanor, became the focal point of my daydreams. His presence cast a spell, drawing me closer to the world of humans, a world forbidden by my father.

In these moments of secret longing, I found solace in the comforting embrace of Sebastian's wise counsel and the companionship of Flounder. They were the anchors to my whimsical dreams, tethering me to the reality of the sea.

Little did I know that my desires would lead me to the edge of treacherous depths, where Ursula, a sea witch draped in shadows, awaited to unravel the tapestry of my fate. The sunken whispers of forbidden magic beckoned, and with a heart tangled in desire, I ventured toward the unknown, oblivious to the storm brewing beneath my enchanting exterior.

The azure glow of Atlantica's coral gardens bathed everything in a tranquil luminescence. I found myself perched on a weathered rock, my vibrant tail swaying gently with the ebb and flow of the current. Seagulls serenaded the horizon, their distant calls carrying tales of lands beyond.

My fingers traced patterns in the sand as I gazed at the surface, where the sun painted hues of gold across the water's canvas. The rhythmic lull of the waves mirrored the cadence of my heart, a heartbeat tuned to the melody of longing.

Sebastian, my wise and ever-vigilant guardian, hovered nearby, his watchful eyes reflecting concern. "Ariel, child, you've been gazing at the surface for hours. Your heart seems adrift," he remarked, his claws clicking softly against the rocks.

I sighed, the melody of my discontent harmonizing with the distant ocean's song. "Sebastian, don't you ever wonder what lies beyond? The human world seems like a symphony I've yet to hear."

He shook his head, his expression a mix of caution and care. "Child, King Triton's rules are in place for a reason. The surface is a dangerous place for our kind."

Despite his warnings, an ember of curiosity continued to burn within me. As Flounder swam playfully in circles below, I couldn't escape the magnetic pull toward the unknown. The sea witch's whispers lingered like a haunting refrain, tempting me to unravel the secrets that danced upon the waves. The scene was a delicate balance between the serenity of Atlantica's beauty and the tempest of desires that stirred within my rebellious heart.

Lost in the kaleidoscope of memories, my mind drifted back to a day etched in the coral tapestry of my secret trove. Flounder and I reveled in the treasures from the human world, collecting fragments of their lives that washed ashore in shipwrecks.

The trove, hidden from prying eyes, held the essence of my forbidden dreams. As I arranged trinkets on the ocean floor, a distant rumble announced the arrival of a human vessel—the vessel that bore Prince Eric.

The sky above me burst into hues unseen in our watery realm, a celestial display that rivaled the enchanting glow of Atlantica's depths. The surface beckoned, and with every splash of color, my heart danced to a rhythm not of the sea but of newfound possibilities.

Among the treasures in my trove, I clutched a delicate human artifact—a dinglehopper, as Scuttle called it. Its silver prongs gleamed in the radiant light, and I wondered if, beyond the waves, humans marveled at the spectacle as I did now.

The ship's silhouette carved through the surface, a beacon of the human world's allure. As the vessel sailed overhead, the ocean mirrored the sky's explosion of colors, casting an iridescent glow upon my secret haven. For a moment, I was transported from the underwater sanctuary to the deck of that ship, the salty breeze tousling my hair.

The memory shimmered like sunlight on the water's surface, a fleeting glimpse of a world I craved. Little did I know that this enchanting spectacle would become the catalyst for a journey beyond the confines of my aquatic kingdom, steering me toward the shadows that lurked beneath the surface of my once-innocent heart.

In the throes of that mesmerizing display above, I couldn't resist the allure any longer. With the dinglehopper abandoned among the trove's treasures, I propelled myself through the water, the urgency of my desire echoing in each stroke.

The trove's guardian, Flounder, darted after me, his worried eyes reflecting the caution I discarded in my reckless pursuit. The ship, a distant mirage above, beckoned like a siren's call, promising a world beyond my aquatic haven.

As I neared the surface, the water's embrace relinquished its hold, allowing me to breach the boundary between sea and sky. The sunlight filtered through the waves, casting a kaleidoscope of reflections that danced on my scales.

With each upward surge, my heart raced in tandem with the distant rhythms of the human world. The surface shimmered, a threshold to a realm where dreams were crafted from sunlight and human hearts beat to melodies unknown to my aquatic ears.

As I broke through the surface, a gasp escaped me, tasting the air of the world I had only glimpsed from below. The ship loomed ahead, a vessel that carried the promise of a destiny intertwined with a certain prince.

Little did I know that this impulsive pursuit, fueled by curiosity and a yearning for something more, would set in motion a series of events that would reshape not only my life but the very essence of who I was meant to be. The underwater sanctuary faded into the background as the ship's silhouette drew me closer to the edge of a precipice, where the currents of destiny awaited, turbulent and unpredictable.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, I followed the ship's silhouette through the twilight waters, the moonlight casting a silvery glow upon the surface. With each stroke, anticipation and trepidation intertwined within me like the kelp strands swaying in the gentle current.

As the ship loomed larger in the moonlit darkness, my pulse quickened, and a mix of excitement and nervousness enveloped me. The rhythmic sound of the ship slicing through the waves echoed like a heartbeat, a heartbeat that echoed my own restless emotions.

I wondered about the humans aboard—those mysterious beings who lived in a world of dazzling lights and towering castles. Did they share my fascination with the unknown? Were their hearts, too, stirred by the pull of the unfamiliar?

Yet, amid the enchantment, a whisper of doubt brushed against the currents. King Triton's warnings resonated in the recesses of my mind, reminding me of the consequences that awaited my disobedience. I pushed those thoughts aside, my gaze fixed on the ship's shimmering wake.

With each passing moment, the ship became more tangible, and the reality of my impulsive pursuit sank in. The cool night air embraced me as I treaded water beneath the towering vessel. A cascade of questions surged within me, mirroring the ebb and flow of the ocean around.

As I lingered in the shadows beneath the ship, the gravity of my decision weighed on me. The dark waters cradled the secrets of the deep, and with every heartbeat, I teetered on the precipice between my world and the unknown above. The adventure I had embarked upon, driven by desire and curiosity, unfolded like a clandestine dance under the cover of night, where the destiny of a curious mermaid collided with the secrets that sailed upon the human vessel.

As I hovered in the shadows beneath the ship, my wide-eyed gaze fixed upon the imposing vessel, a myriad of thoughts cascaded through my mind, swirling like the currents around me.

Ariel, what have you done? The ship's sudden stillness echoed my inner turmoil, a stark reminder of the gravity of my impulsive decision. King Triton's warnings whispered in the recesses of my conscience, his words morphing into a chorus of doubt.

Amid the enchantment of the moonlit sea, doubt clung to me like seaweed, its tendrils winding around my resolve. Was this reckless pursuit a folly that would unravel the harmony of my underwater world?

But then, the ship's grandeur beckoned, its towering masts reaching for the star-studded sky. What wonders awaited me above? The human world, a realm painted in hues unseen by mermaid eyes, lay just beyond the surface.

I glanced back, the familiar contours of Atlantica's depths calling to me like a lullaby. Home. Family. Tradition. But the allure of the unknown tugged at my fins, a melody that resonated with a longing deeper than the ocean itself.

Am I prepared to forsake all I've ever known for a glimpse of a world beyond the waves? The answer lingered in the air, suspended like the bubbles escaping from my hesitant breath. The ship, frozen in time, became a silent testament to the crossroads where my destiny hung in precarious balance.

The sea murmured its timeless tales, a symphony of possibilities, and as I treaded water beneath the looming vessel, I knew that whatever path I chose in this moment would chart the course of my fate, steering me into the uncharted waters of my own desires.

Amid the quiet of the night, as I hesitated in the cool shadows beneath the ship, a melodic strain reached me—a sound both strange and enchanting. Laughter. Voices. The gentle rhythm of a human song.

The melody wove through the air like an invisible thread, tugging at the very core of my curiosity. My heart quickened as I strained to hear, the vibrant notes creating a symphony that beckoned me closer.

Curiosity, that insatiable companion of mine, overcame the final remnants of hesitation. I swam alongside the ship, seeking out a vantage point to catch a glimpse of the humans on deck.

As I neared, the laughter grew louder, the scent of salt and adventure enveloping me. My fingers gripped the edge of the ship's hull, and with a swift, silent movement, I pulled myself up to peer over the side.

There, bathed in the soft glow of lanterns, humans danced and celebrated, their voices harmonizing with the gentle lull of the waves. The deck was alive with movement—laughter, music, and the clinking of goblets filled the air.

For a moment, time hung suspended between the worlds. The sight before me was a tapestry of human life, woven with threads of joy and camaraderie. I, an unseen spectator, marveled at the beauty of their world, a world I had only dreamed of until now.

It was in this stolen moment, amidst the intoxicating allure of human merriment, that the decision solidified within me. The pull of the surface, the enchantment of their world, became an undeniable force—a force that propelled me into the next chapter of my journey, where the threads of destiny intertwined with the delicate strands of my rebellious heart.

As I clung to the ship's side, an enchanting scene unfolded on the moonlit deck. Lanterns cast a warm glow, illuminating a tableau of human merriment. The air buzzed with laughter, the music of their joy resonating with the undulating waves beneath.

Prince Eric, the central figure in this lively celebration, moved with a grace that mirrored the ebb and flow of the sea. His laughter mingled with the salt-laden breeze, and the sight of him, surrounded by loyal crewmates and a faithful dog, was a spectacle of camaraderie and festivity.

Decked in nautical attire, Eric's eyes sparkled with a youthful exuberance that echoed the shimmering moonlit waves. His every movement radiated a magnetic energy, drawing everyone into the dance of revelry.

Max, his canine companion, added to the jubilant atmosphere, his playful antics mirroring the carefree spirit of the crew. Their camaraderie painted a portrait of friendship and shared adventures, a life where bonds were forged amidst the vast expanse of the ocean.

As the night unfolded in a tapestry of laughter and shared stories, the resonance of Prince Eric's name echoed through the sea breeze, reaching my ears like a distant melody. Each mention was a whisper that tugged at the strings of my heart, weaving an invisible connection that bound me to this scene of human warmth and jubilation.

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peacelykerockets · 2 years

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Space, Michael Jackson, and dogs may seem like an unlikely combination, but all three have captured the imagination of people from all over the world.

Space, the final frontier, has long been a source of inspiration and wonder for humanity. From ancient civilizations gazing up at the stars to modern-day space exploration, the allure of what lies beyond our planet has never waned. The mysteries of the universe continue to be unraveled as new technology and advancements allow us to delve deeper into the unknown.

Michael Jackson, known as the King of Pop, was one of the most influential and iconic musicians of all time. His music and dance moves continue to inspire and entertain people even after his untimely death in 2009. From the moonwalk to the smooth criminal lean, Michael Jackson's iconic dance moves have been mimicked by fans around the globe.

Dogs, often referred to as "man's best friend," have been cherished by humans for thousands of years. These loyal and loving animals have been by our side through thick and thin, and their companionship is invaluable. Dogs are also known for their intelligence, trainability, and versatility, and have been used for a wide variety of tasks such as hunting, herding, and providing therapy.

So, what do space, Michael Jackson, and dogs have in common? All three have the ability to inspire, entertain, and bring joy to people from all walks of life. Whether it's gazing up at the stars, dancing to a Michael Jackson hit, or cuddling with a furry companion, these things have the power to bring people together and remind us of the beauty and wonder that exists in the world.

It's also worth noting that Michael Jackson had a fondness for dogs and had several of his own. He also had a song called "Black or White" which has a video in which he transforms into different animals, including a dog. This song conveys a message of unity and diversity, which is a reminder that no matter our differences, we are all connected and should strive for acceptance and understanding.

In conclusion, space, Michael Jackson, and dogs may seem unrelated but they all have the power to inspire and bring joy to people from all walks of life. They remind us of the beauty and wonder that exists in the world and the importance of acceptance and understanding towards different forms of life

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foralleternityidiot · 3 years

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I love this article so much. Here are some of my favorite quotes:

“The newest single from the pop superstars is a refreshing reminder that not only is happiness possible, but there is no shame in feeling it.”

“Providing comfort in the midst of darkness is what BTS does best; it is what they have always done, throughout the eight years since their debut. When the COVID-19 pandemic began, forcing the group to indefinitely postpone their upcoming worldwide stadium tour, RM, Jin, Suga, J-Hope, Jimin, V, and Jungkook threw themselves into their new mission to provide their fans, ARMY, with a distraction from the despair.”

“Where the music of the past year has provided distraction and companionship and melancholy understanding, “Permission to Dance” offers another type of comfort: the hope that that future promised in “Life Goes On” is only just around the corner.”

“It’s a warming celebration of community, and fine, I’ll admit it: It melted my pessimistic heart. (Like butter. Heh.)”

“The message of “Permission to Dance” is by no means revolutionary, but to process it with a completely uncynical mind feels radical nonetheless. As humans, we are so predisposed to denying ourselves joy, and it can feel inappropriate — or just straight-up impossible — to be happy after almost a year and a half of increasingly dragging hopelessness.”

““Permission to Dance,” though, is a refreshing reminder that not only is happiness possible, but there is no shame in feeling it — even if only, to begin with, for the three-minute-and-seven-second duration of a carefree summer pop song.”

#permission to dance #bts #bangtan #*

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morningham · 3 years

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really never post anything i write on here but. figured i’d see if anyone wanted to check this little piece out.

Gaia

In the beginning it was lonesome. Time stood still, alone in the expanse of nothing. The eons ticked by, black and silent. Time created Pluto first. Cold and bleak, his eldest child escaped to the furthest expanse of the universe. Typical teenage rebellion. From him burst forth several children, all to become his moons, constant in their seeking of approval and attention. Time created Sol next. Bright and boisterous, she cast heavenly light upon the great expanse. She begged Time for companionship, scorching every child he made her to play with. She erupted with fury and pain, casting out tiny sparks of fire from her fingertips. The stars twinkled at her, winking and scattering across the great nothing. She flared with joy when they crowded her lap, unscathed. Time made the twins shortly after, Uranus and Saturn. They squabbled and shoved and pushed themselves far from Sol, who showered them with gifts of life. Venus and Mercury came next, sensual and silent, speaking only to Sol, moving closer to her with each passing eon to drown out the noise of the boys fighting about who had more flashy rings. Mars came next, hot and furious, waging war on any passing speck of dust. His skin grew molten from Sol’s constant doting, and her children imploded themselves upon him, giggling as he tried to swat them away.

Father Time was content. His family was like any other, not perfection, but wonderful. He marched on, ever expanding the great darkness inveloping his children. Sol’s daughters and sons painted the sky with constellations, beautiful galaxies, begging their grandpa to look upon it’s wonder. Sol beamed proudly, illuminating their art with her fire.

Time grew weaker. His children rushed to his aid, begging to help. He waved them off wearily, never stopping. He knew it was time to rest, but something was missing. Gaia was last. Time worked his hardest on her, perfecting every detail until she drew her first breath. Sol shone gently upon her, careful not to mar her lovely watery expanses, her lush greens and hues of royal and purple dancing on her surface. Mars sang her songs, and Venus showered her with affection unmatched. Time rested. He slowed, nearly dormant, and Gaia flourished. She seduced Lune with her beauty and charm, drawing her into her powerful orbit with just a spin. Gaia was happy.

But soon she grew lonely. Her elder siblings chattered wildly among themselves as the eons trickled on. She wanted children of her own. It took many tries to get it right. At first the creatures she melded out of clay bit and snarled and choked each other to death. She tried again, softening their teeth to graze upon her skirts of greenery. The animals lived in harmony. They created more of themselves, singing songs to Gaia as they traipsed her surface, and she created some to swim in her oceans, away from their familiar counterparts on land. All was good. Gaia and Lune loved their children and their children’s children, gazing upon them and letting them do as they pleased. Mars grew jealous, of course, a barren father, and in a fit of particularly strong rage at Gaia’s cooing, hurtled a chunk of his molten being at her. It smashed upon her children, their cries echoing across the now desolate wasteland. Gaia wept unconditionally, covering herself in pools upon pools of her own misery. Lune shielded her from Mars and his rage, pelting her skin with rocks. Sol turned away from her, melting Mars with her heat. Gaia became cold and barren. No children could survive now. She blanketed herself in Lune’s cool embrace, once again lonely and now desolate. Time saw his favorite child’s pain.

He arose from dormancy to comfort her, soothing her with promises of a better future. She pouted and iced over at his empty premonitions. Desperate, Time fashioned soft animals out of the cosmos, fluffy and big pawed, setting them upon Gaia’s lap. The bears enjoyed the cold, the cubs tumbling across ice sheets away from their mothers fishing in small pockets of Gaia’s icy pain. The tigers curled at the base of her trees, purring when she ticked through their soft fur. Sol grew curious of the new children, her own stars dancing across Gaia’s night sky to dazzle them. Slowly, Gaia bloomed. She preened over her new children, promising them no harm, only eden.

Time, slowing once again, created a child of Gaia’s own flesh. Lean and two legged, these creatures looked like none the cosmos had ever seen. They could speak, could appreciate the gifts Sol and Lune blessed them with, chattering excitedly amongst themselves as they created more and more of themselves. Gaia taught them to harvest herself, how to travel the wonderful seas with vessels made from her fingers, how to create brilliant structures with stone and wet clay. The humans praised her endlessly. They wrote songs to their mother and her siblings, praying for everything they needed, toiling away at her. She wept joyously and her children babbled their thanks of the blessings, hushed by the beauty that sprouted upon her at the location of her tears. She watched them for years, providing their every need, as they learned and grew and made temples to the cosmos to honor her and her siblings.

Time grew irate with the human’s selfishness. They didn’t bother to honor him, their father, their creator. So he created them an end. The humans mourned bitterly as they took their last breaths and Gaia mourned with them. She took them into herself, protecting them in her heart, Sol’s children teaching them how to paint the cosmos with their beauty. Time marched on and the humans squabbled amongst themselves. The new humans squandered what Gaia gave them, tearing at her and walling themselves away from each other. They fought incessantly, killing each other and tossing their fallen comrades back at Gaia’s feet. She grew tired of their insolence and warned them, shaking with anger. Their structures fell and the humans ignored her, no longer grateful for what they’d been given. Gaia raged. She splashed angrily against the land, upturning their precious structures, destroying them in one fell swoop. She spared her four legged children, sequestering them on a high peak in the middle of a now watery grave. The animals feasted on what humans survived, thanking Gaia with every bite. She cried uncontrollably, flooding herself. Two humans managed to survive her fury. They threw themselves prostrate at the animals and kissed Gaia’s feet, begging for another chance. She ignored their cries until she could no longer, soothing them with soft whispers and gentle rays of Sol’s light. The humans began anew, teaching their children what their Mother had taught them. They spread vastly across her surface, wisely returning to the land they were so graciously given. Gaia showed favor with them. She watched in wonder as the humans continued to flourish, settling and creating their own little world. She punished their sins with floods and earthquakes, upending their homes and setting fire to their factories. They always rebuilt. Soon acrid smoke filled the air. She coughed and hacked and sent dust spiraling across their towns, begging them to stop. They pushed on. The humans no longer listened to her. They threw their waste in her waters, choking her first children and smothering them with oil. She screamed in agony and sent peals of white hot lighting across the land as they shredded her forests to pieces. Each day she grew weaker and Lune fretted, turning her back to the humans. They killed millions at a time, greedy and evil.

“Kill them all, sister.” Mars pleaded. They shot great firey things into the cosmos, closer and closer to Lune until they arrived on her. She welcomed them, her sweet children, and they collected her in their arms before returning to Gaia. They clogged her view of them and she sent rocks hurtling at herself, warning them to cease. They did not. Her first children begged her to help, laying amongst the bloody forests the men had destroyed. Gaia cried for them, petting them as they searched for new homes. The humans continued on. She raged at them, growing fiercer and fiercer, upending the seas upon their towns and shaking them in her fists.

She could barely breathe now. She felt crowded and hot, weakly asking them to stop. Sol moved closer, begging to help. Lune hid behind her, unable to look upon Gaia’s broken form.

Father they’re killing me.

Time heard his youngest’s desperate cries. She begged him to aid her in discipling her unruly children. The twins heard her screams of agony across the expanse as the humans laid waste to their mother. She lay broken when the humans finally ceased. Their buildings lay in ruins, dust covering her once vibrant surface. Lune tended her, and Sol left her in darkness, unable to illuminate her blacked form any longer. She could no longer speak, her children had taken that from her. She wept dryly for them, so foolish. They laid across their mother, charred and broken as she was. Time looked away from his sweetest daughter.

Eons passed and Gaia mourned. She lay drifting among the cosmos, quiet and dark. Her siblings spoke lowly of her. Her children killed her. Time watched his daughter, frozen and barren, until he could look upon her no longer. He descended upon her broken form, and with a shaky breath, a single green sprout emerged from her cracked form.

#creationstory #gaia #we’re killing our home y’all #orginal post #mythology

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morganas-pendragons · 4 years

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take my hand, i’ll keep you close | obi-wan

in which i cannot do short titles anymore, sorry

requested by @karasong: may i please request an obi-wan/reader where they get stuck in the rain and he’s upset about it but the reader takes the opportunity to dance in it and he can’t help but smile, and then they dance together?

made this a female reader, i hope it’s okay!!!

this is 100% a steal of can i have this dance from high school musical and no, i’m not sorry - and yes, it’s the planet from the scene where anakin eats bugs in the cartoon nope i’m also not sorry for that either

tagging: @obiorbenkenobi // @dressed-up-heartbreak

This was so not the way he wanted to spend his day. It was supposed to be a relatively easy mission to Nelvaan. A relatively easy mission in which the two of you were scoping out the area for General Grievous, who had supposedly been spotted in this sector and had been.. well.. evasive for the most part.

Now here you both sat tucked away in a hidden area waiting for Anakin who had gone maker knew where. Obi-Wan was asleep to your left, head resting in your lap as you both tried and failed to sleep in one of the most beautiful storms you’d ever seen.

Fortunately for you, you loved storms. How can you not love that in which you are the living embodiment of?

“You’re staring again.”

Water dropped from a nearby overhang and dampened the hood of his cloak as he nestled deeper into it. “How can I not?” You marveled. “We’ve been here for a kriffing month. I’m tired of sitting around and doing nothing while Anakin traipses around out there.”

“We’re not doing nothing. We’re waiting for... ah.. relief.” Which basically meant i’m gonna whine here like a child in the créche because i’m not getting my way until the actual relief did come.

You gently laid his head back on the wooden bench the two of you had been sitting on and shed your robes and saber beside him before taking one last look at the brewing storm just outside your refuge. “Yeah, well.” You replied swiftly. “I’m looking for relief. I’d like to not be a Jedi for five minutes. You wanna join me?”

He sunk deeper into his robe and harrumphed in reply, crossing his arms over his chest before turning his head away from you. Obi-Wan had grown up on Coruscant which had a mildly temperate climate anyways, which means he wasn’t nearly as accustomed to weather like this as you were. It made him, well.. grumpy.

It was kind of cute.

“No. You enjoy yourself.” His expression softened briefly for a moment as Obi-Wan looked you up and down before curling back against the wall. “You deserve a relief.”

Your heart sank. This war had barely started and yet you knew it would have a long-lasting effect on his heart. Maybe even his soul. It wasn’t like he wasn’t a walking tragedy already with how much suffering he’d endured since Naboo and before.

“So do you.”

With that, you ventured out into the dark. Obi-Wan watched as a brilliant crack of lightning consumed the darkness of the sky that spread out before him - illuminating your figure in an aura of white light - before he allowed his eyes to shift away from the growing storm and back to you.

You. In all your silver tongued, quick witted, sharp skills with your mouth and saber and a knack for absolutely demolishing the enemy before he could fully conclude his terms of surrender negotiations with the opposing General. You’d lost your clone squad months ago - the reason why, you’d never said and he absolutely understood why once he saw your nightmares firsthand - but after that, you were a force to be reckoned with. Fighting alongside you put him at ease.

However, this was a different type of ease. This was peace. Seeing you out there in that storm and spinning without a care in the world made his heart clench as he suddenly realized why he was so drawn to you. You were what he wanted when the war was over. You were safety, security, assurance, goodness...

You were what The Jedi should’ve been. Would never be. Maybe he should’ve aspired to be more like you.

“C’mon, Obi-Wan!” You yelled across the clearing. It was relatively clear of any droids and there was no one in sight outside of the clone scouts on the perimeter on the outskirts of the siege, which meant that the two of you were alone. “Stop being a kriffing buzzkill! Come dance with me!”

Ah. One problem. He didn’t know how to dance.

Obi-Wan Kenobi wanted to be at home in The Temple in his bed. He wanted a warm meal and companionship and lightsaber training with Anakin, he wanted to not be in a war because this wasn’t the purpose of Jedi. They were peacekeepers. Not soldiers.

Maybe for a moment. Maybe he’ll drop The Negotiator and The General for just a moment to allow himself the ability to be just.. Obi-Wan. A man. A human man who, no matter how much he denied it, had desires. A heart.

They seemed to all revolve around you.

You looked like a girl. A woman who had never had the opportunity to do things normal girls did. A girl soaked to the bone by the chilling rain that poured down from the skies as they broke open and cast the world in darkness. Despite that, there you were, your Force Signature the brightest light in an otherwise bleak world.

So he followed you - followed your light - into the dark.

Boots caked with mud and robes dripping wet with the chill of the rain, Obi-Wan ventured into the open and for a split second allowed himself to forget about the war. He forgot about the clones who had died and the Jedi who had followed them, he’d forgotten about the threat of the Sith and The Chosen One and just allowed himself to exist. Just for a moment.

The real part - the part where he lived - was birthed whenever he met you across the gap.

“C’mon, Obi-Wan.” You mused. Your voice was just barely audible enough to be heard over the rumble of thunder that resounded ahead. “Take my hand. What are you afraid of? A girl?”

It’s not the girl. It’s falling in love with the girl he was afraid of.

“I must confess, my dear-” Obi-Wan went scarlet as your brow rose and you again motioned with a flick of your gaze to your waving fingers that were gestured out towards him. He rubbed the nape of his neck awkwardly as you waited for him to continue. “I am unsure of how to dance.”

“Well, lucky for you..” You took his left hand in your own and laid the other one against the swell of your hip, nearly visible through the sheer fabric of your tunic. It took every ounce of his self control to not allow his eyes to travel below your shoulders. “Well, fortunately for you, I grew up amongst the wealthiest people on Alderaan. I spent much of my adolescence learning the art of dancing. You just happen to have the perfect partner.”

Ah. That he did.

“We have no music.” He argued.

You tilted your chin up to look at the blues of his eyes. “You don’t need it,” You said. “Follow my lead. I’ll keep you close.”

Take my hand, take a breath, pull me close and take one step

Obi-Wan was nothing if not a quick learner. He listened to the words of your songs as if they were the same words spoken by Master Jinn, by Master Yoda, by his crèche teacher all those years ago. He wanted to learn what you were trying to teach him.

Keep your eyes locked with mine

And let the music be your guide

The mud beneath your feet became forgotten and the rain nothing but a numbing chill as you allowed yourself to sink into the familiarity of Obi-Wan Kenobi and the warmth that was his Force Signature. His hand at your hip, the piercing blue of his eyes that never left yours, the way he moved in perfect sync with your movements.

He fought and danced the same way he moved. Gracefully, beautifully, and with the perfect poise. Little did Obi-Wan know that this specific song - a confession of hidden feelings - was meant to be a way for the possibility of more to bloom. He had to be willing to take it. He had to want it as badly as you did.

Now would you promise me, that you’ll never forget

To keep dancing wherever we go next?

On a ridge overlooking the clearing the two of you occupied, Marshall Commander Cody smiled to himself as he peered through the haze of rain that fogged his scope. There was nothing he’d wanted more then his General to be happy for the moment they’d met. Even through the scopes, Cody could see that happiness he so often denied himself very much came from you.

it’s my catch of lightning, the chances of finding someone like you

The longer you danced, the more vulnerable the gaps in your shielding were. Being around Obi-Wan and repressing your feelings for so long even after knowing each other for a short amount of time had been difficult, to say the least, but now that you were in the middle of either the best or worst choice you’d ever made, you wanted him to see it. You wanted him to see you and how you’d dreamt for the future.

A future that always, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, somehow included him.

It’s one in a million, the chances of feeling the way we do

And with every step together

We just keep on getting better

The galaxy talks about Kenobi and Skywalker. But will they talk about you two? The perfect partners? The calm to his chaos? The warmth to your chill? How you were always at his back on the battlefield, and how he carried you across a war zone - bloody and bruised and dying - to get you to the Cruiser because he’d rather risk his own life then lose yours?

Can I have this dance... Can I have this dance?

“Do you feel it?!” You yelled over the pouring rain, arms outstretched as he’d grown so much more confident in his abilities that Obi-Wan was spinning you around the same way you’d spun yourself before you started. You didn’t see the way he grinned. The way his Force shined because of your joy.

“Feel what?”

“Free!”

Oh, no mountain's too high and no ocean's too wide 'Cause together or not, our dance won't stop

Neither of you had realized how much time had passed as the rain slowed to a drizzle and the sun began to peer over the forest around you. You were too enraptured with each other.

Let it rain, let it pour, what we have is worth fighting for You know I believe that we were meant to be, yeah

“Your thoughts of the future are beautiful.”

You steadied your hands against his shoulders as he nudged your cheek with his nose while you continued to hum as daylight shone over you both. “They’re only beautiful because you’re in it.” You murmured. “If you want it - want that future - come take it.”

“We have a war to fight.” A brutally true reality. “Are you sure there will be an after?”

It's like catching lightning The chances of finding someone like you

You pushed wet robes off his shoulders and ruffled his hair to where it hung just over his brow bone. Disregarding the precise calculation of each movement of his feet, Obi-Wan tossed all care into the wind and took both of your hands to rest against his face.

It's one in a million, the chances to feeling

The way we do

“As long as we stay together, there’ll always be an after.”

And with every step together

We just keep on getting better

“Be with me. Not just now, but when we’re on the battlefield and when we win the war and when we leave The Order to find our after.” The two of you slow to a stop, and he nodded and nodded and nodded again to show you that he meant it, and before you could help yourself - you were kissing the living daylights out of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

So can I have this dance?

#Obi-Wan Kenobi #Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader #Obi-Wan x Reader #Star Wars imagines #Star Wars oneshots

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greyswritingagain-ohhell · 4 years

Text

𝐈 𝐅*𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬

Oh, this lazy ass finally wrote something-

He was the right to his wrong. And sadly, Roman had no fucking clue. Not in that oblivious head of his.

Virgil Sanders X Roman Sanders, Background Logan Sanders X Patton Sanders, Background Janus Sanders X Remus Sanders (Human AU)

Word Count: 918

TW: Swearing, Virgil loathing love, Mentions of public events, Mention of sex, Mentions of blood. Msg if there is more.

★-----☾-----❍-----☽-----★

That wretched day.

That one. The one crossed out in red marker, symbolizing the day of Cupid and his minions of love coming to hunt down unsuspecting innocent souls like a huntress coming for the blood of a lamb. For that yearning of hurt in the name of love.

Oh, he hated love. A trickster, covered in pearls, sweets, teddy bears, and roses, creeping up to you, tapping your shoulder, whispering into your ear about a game. A seemingly harmless game of chance, with velvet curtains of smiles and red lipstick, hiding knives and arrows, all forged by the blood of the heartbroken.

He heard Love's whisper. The smooth voice of candy laced with ecstasy traveling to his brain in attempt to lure him into their trap. Thankfully, he declined with no hesitation, not a hint of regret or waver in his ‘no thanks'.

Because, as he said, Love is a game of chance. And he will not fall prey to it.

Even after pulling his green and brown eyes from the February calendar, that hatred for that day bloomed and flourished in the dim light of the dots of moonlight passing through his curtains.

To many it brought joy and dancing on the cobblestone till dusk, to others sorrow and white sticky liquid on their thighs, an innocence foolishly lost to lusty temptation.

Harsh remnants of winter blew in the wind as he stepped out the house, beaten converse thumping softly on the brick road of the street. Shiny stars Illuminating ink black skies with hints of navy slithering around.

Little Virgil Black almost smiled, breathing it all in as the icy breeze blew again, brushing against his pale skin like a mother's touch that was gone in the blink of an eye. His black hair waved like ink, the purple tips waving amongst each other like couples in a ballroom.

No… don’t think about that now.

He sighed, middle and index finger drawing tiny circles on his temples. Love was an enemy of his for a reason, and everything that stood beside it will stand against him. Including February 14.

Oh, February 14, what a tragedy you are. He won’t go into detail with this, but lets all just say February 14… is a haunted day. A day that crept up to him, mocking and forcing those cursed tears to overfill his green and brown dams till creaks that threat to break down turn into gruesome splashing of diamond blades down the pearly beach of his skin. It was… aggravating, to say the least. And he hated it with the fires of both Heaven and Hell.

“Virgil?”

Ah. He'd recognize that smooth and perky voice anywhere. The bouncing brown hair professionally styled on top of his head. The gleaming green eyes that can burn someone's kneecaps to jelly, forcing them on their nonexistent knees at his mercy.

Roman. Fucking. Kingsley. The boy behind the slaughter. The eccentric theater kid with a rose gold crown. The preppy history nerd who also, for some godforsaken reason, his best friend.

But to Virgil? Poor little Virgil? Oh, he was more. He was the boy who unknowingly made the moon shine silvery streaks over every living thing that deserved it. He was the boy who brought glitter in the despondency bliss of the falling drops of rain, heavy or light, he still brought it. He was the rose to his thorns. The sudden rainbow in dusty blue skies, fresh from the wrath of the storm. The peaceful reassuring breeze in the gloomy shadows of night under the spruce trees.

He was the right to his wrong. And sadly, Roman had no fucking clue. Not in that oblivious head of his.

He spun, raising his hand to wave, disrupting the gentle blow of the wind, “hey.”

Roman looked at him, a dream clouding his emeralds, “Hey, uh… I just came to ask you something.”

That was strange. Mr. Disney Prince? Life of the party? Being nervous?

And its about Virgil himself? Very very intriguing indeed.

He must be sick.

He raised an eyebrow at his deafening silence, “well? Spit, Princey.”

He only offered a broken chuckle, running a hand through his hair, “well, now you just made this harder-“

“Just say it.” He snapped.

“Will you go to the dance with me?”

Well, safe to say, Virgil was not very pleased with the answer.

What? Why? Why me? Does he not know me?

Who would’ve thought, the one loathing love with every fiber of his melancholy existence was being offered a hand of companionship by the one who basically lived with it. The… Melancholy Kaleidoscope.

“Its just that, Patton has Logan, Janus has Remus and I… I don’t want to go alone! You don’t even have to be my date, just stay with me? You don’t have to, please, just… consider it?”

My, my, have the tables turned. When the eccentric are nervous and the nervous are, discreetly, mind you, amused. Roman Fucking Kingsley? Rambling? Nervous? And to the one person he was always shameless with? What kind of glitch in the matrix did he stumble upon? Either he and Remus pulled a switcharoo or he genuinely, truly wanted Virgil to. And apparently to his surprise, considering the pleading, teary look on his face, it was the latter.

“I…” A glimmer, a shine of hope displayed on Roman's face, “I’ll.. I guess I’ll go…”

Oh, what a mess did Virgil get himself into.

But no matter, he was there with him.

★-----☾-----❍-----☽-----★

#prinxiety fanfic #prinxiety #roman sanders #roman x virgil #virgil sanders #roman ts #virgil ts #thomas sanders #sander sides #fanfic #Spotify #grey writes

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path-of-my-childhood · 5 years

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Taylor Swift’s “Beautiful Ghosts” might be the best part of the Cats movie

Vox // By Aja Romano // November 20th 2019

“Beautiful Ghosts,” the song that Taylor Swift put words to for Tom Hooper’s upcoming Cats movie, has arrived - and guess what? Swift might be Cats creator and famed Broadway composer Andrew Lloyd Webber’s ideal lyricist.

Lloyd Webber is the man who brought the world Phantom of the Opera, Jesus Christ Superstar, Evita, and one of the most recorded songs in theatre history, “Memory” from Cats. He is notorious for writing musicals with beautiful music and weak lyrics. But “Beautiful Ghosts” makes a compelling argument that what every ALW musical needs is a shrewd lyricist who was once a teenage girl - and who, consequently, is not embarrassed to embrace the gushy romantic heart of his music. Here are five reasons “Beautiful Ghosts” is worth a second listen, or several.

1) It adds to our understanding of Victoria, the White Cat. “Beautiful Ghosts” isn’t a showy end-credits pop song; it’s a new song inserted into the plot of the show. It will follow “Memory” in the upcoming film. The cat who sings it, Victoria has a bigger role: Now, the entire story is framed through her point of view, and Victoria is a younger mirror of Grizabella.

In “Beautiful Ghosts,” Victoria echoes “Memory” and reflects on Grizabella’s tragic life, as well as her own. “Memory” keeps calling for “new life,” while through “Beautiful Ghosts,” Victoria transitions from “Memory’s” sadness to a joy that’s all her own - through the realization that she loves the life she has. Where “Memory” is fuzzy, with vague hints of former happiness, “Beautiful Ghosts” weaves a mini-narrative of Victoria’s life: cast onto the streets, apparently by cruel former owners, she distrusts other cats, but eventually befriends them and comes to love her life. With this one song, she goes from being opaque and silent to having depth, complexity, and a backstory that doesn’t involve her being a sex object.

2) It helps us understand “Memory.” Even though “Beautiful Ghosts” is sung by Victoria to Grizabella, it also gives us crucial insight into Grizabella’s life. When Victoria sings lines like, “Should I take chances when no one took chances on me?” she’s simultaneously referencing her own life and Grizabella’s: Grizabella at least knew a time when she was loved and admired, and had human companionship to look back on. Victoria has only known rejection.

Taylor Swift has clearly asked herself, “How can I bring more coherence to “Memory,” a weird-ass song about a cat who is also a sex worker who is also dying and friendless and stuck with her memories of having once been very hot?” The solution, which she provides in “Beautiful Ghosts,” is to give Grizabella slightly more of a past.

In a recent radio interview, Swift described her approach to creating the song - which involved contrasting Victoria’s life with Grizabella’s: ‘Memory’ is Grizabella singing about how she had all these beautiful, incredible moments in her past. She had these glittering occasions and she felt beautiful and she felt wanted and now she doesn’t feel that way anymore.’ This is fanfic on Swift’s part. While this glittering history can be implied, it’s not literally in the lyrics to “Memory,“ or anywhere else in Cats - the most concrete detail “Memory” offers is that Grizabella once enjoyed “days in the sun.” It’s a huge bonus to see Grizabella given a more concrete backstory that has nothing to do with her, uh, hanging out in brothels.

“Beautiful Ghosts” explains that Grizabella was “born into nothing” but now has memories of “dazzling rooms” and a time she was not just beautiful, but loved. In essence, Swift has not only crafted a satisfying character song for Victoria - she’s deepened Grizabella and “Memory” too.

3) It’s clearly a song that could be sung by a cat. This is hard! “Memory” couldn’t manage it and from the first line of “Beautiful Ghosts,” the song feels like one that could be sung by a cat - one who has wandered the streets, hearing the voices of its fellow cats in the dark. Victoria sings of the “wild ones” who “tame the fear” within her as she longs to “get let into” the rooms inhabited by the humans she once knew and yearned for love from. These are bittersweet lyrics, but more importantly, they’re lyrics that pretty clearly describe the life of a cat.

The extent to which Swift has thought about how cats feel becomes increasingly apparent when you realize that “Beautiful Ghosts” is a hymn to found family and the alley cat existence, the freedom of a life lived on the streets, and the beauty of, well, a gang of stray cats. (This may also sound like a metaphor for marginalized communities finding strength in each other after being turned out of their homes.)

4) It hints at what a new Andrew Lloyd Webber musical could be like with a smart lyricist who embraces his romanticism. The typical trade-off with Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals is that his lush, lofty melodic lines take priority over lyrics. The general wisdom among musical theater fans is that ALW was only truly great when he was composing with his earliest collaborator, the brilliant lyricist Tim Rice. The ALW/Rice shows (Jesus Christ Superstar, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, Evita) are fantastic - witty, satirical, and incisive, ranging from complex political themes to rollicking whimsy and charming pastiche.

ALW’s later shows’ scores were often gorgeous, full of beautiful melodies. But the plots were often too soapy, and he bounced around between lyricists who frequently paired his music with asinine words. When ALW was working with someone equally as or more talented than he was, he managed to create popular, lasting shows, including Cats and Phantom of the Opera. But ALW didn’t always work with equals who could rein him in. And so he only kept getting more extravagant in his desire to combine deeply emotional musical motifs with schmoopy, overblown storylines. In other words, post-Rice, ALW has always been hampered by his own self-indulgence and the lack of a lyricist as good at writing lyrics as ALW is at writing music.

That’s why a Taylor Swift-ALW collaboration is genuinely exciting. In the annals of ALW collaborators, Swift may be the first lyricist with the range, experience, and stature to stand alongside Rice. But more importantly, she clearly loves Cats, loves the music, and loves actual cats. In that interview quoted above, for example, she discussed Victoria’s cat psychology at length. I cannot imagine any circumstances in which Tim Rice would say, as Swift did in that interview, “I got you. I know what that cat would say.”

And that may be what so many previous ALW musicals have lacked: the enthusiasm of a smart, savvy songwriter who’s also not afraid to unironically love and embrace her subject matter. Taylor Swift isn’t just a brilliant songwriter who credits the lyrics of Fall Out Boy’s Pete Wentz for teaching her to write music with sharp edges and blatant emotive power. She’s also a fangirl. And fangirls know how to deliver deep, smart character studies while amplifying the emotional core of the stories they love. That combination of shrewd songwriting and passion is what propels the final verse of “Beautiful Ghosts” into something truly great.

5) “Beautiful Ghosts” has a surprise twist ending. Taylor Swift learned a lot from brilliant country songwriters, and one of the common country song traits she likes to carry forward is the “twist.” That’s when the final stanza upends the original meaning of the song and shifts the refrain into something new, surprising, and even richer. Throughout “Beautiful Ghosts,” Victoria has emphasized the fact that Grizabella still has her memories: “at least you have beautiful ghosts,” she sings, and the ghosts are the memories of Grizabella’s life of being beautiful and adored.

By contrast, Victoria herself has always lived on the streets, eventually taken in by the stray cats she eventually began to see as family. Initially, she describes the strays as voices she can only hear in the dark, while she wanders the streets, “alone and haunted.” Later, they become “phantoms of night,” as they lure her into her new exciting life. Finally, when Victoria has her epiphany that she’s happy with her friends, and she loves her alleycat life, she shifts from singing enviously to Grizabella about the “beautiful ghosts” of her memories. Instead, she sings, “So I’ll dance with these beautiful ghosts.”

The ghosts at the end of the song are the cats! Victoria’s ghosts are flesh and blood, and also have you ever met a cat, cats are clearly ghosts, with their silent paws and their eerie glow-eyes, and their ability to vanish into thin air. (Holy shit, the ghosts are the cats!) Only Taylor Swift could turn a metaphor about lost memories into a literal description of cats that is also a metaphor for found families and friendship. Don’t argue with me, this is perfect.

#this was a very fun read - it is however shortened a bit so go read the linked original #thanks anon for sending me this =)#it helps to understand everything a bit better #taylor swift #article #beautiful ghosts #andrew lloyd webber #cats #about taylor #Vox #songwriting

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doomedandstoned · 3 years

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Cave of Swimmers Reach Epic Heights in Infectious New Spinner ‘Aurora’

~Review by Billy Goate~

Album Art by Brian Olson

I've always said that given the right circumstances (say a good set of professional ears lodged in influential places) that CAVE OF SWIMMERS would be a sensation. Why? Because they've got all the right stuff to really connect with people at a time when heavy music has been simmering underground, well-past ready for a fresh outburst. Hamstrung by lockdowns, financial burdens, and fear aplenty, we're ready to dust off our air guitars and party like it's 1987 again (incidentally, the year I first discovered heavy music). I'm not alone in speculating that we're in for another Roaring Twenties, not unlike the carefree days that followed the last global pandemic. And it's precisely this kind of energetic vibe, with its unique Latin-meets-metal flavor, that is ripe and ready to rock 'n' revel to!

Hell, we've not heard a sound this contagious since, well, maybe Sepultura -- and that was another animal entirely. With that said, Cave of Swimmers are very much metal to the core. And oh what a crowd-rousing live show Guillermo Gonzalez (guitar, synth, vox) and Arturo Garcia (drums, backing vox) can put on! I was there when Cave of Swimmers energized a hung-over and droopy mob gathered 'round The Vinyl Stage at the Hard Rock Hotel & Casino, lo those many years ago at the inaugural Psycho Las Vegas.

Doomed & Stoned · The Doomed & Stoned Show - The Cave Of Swimmers Special

All that and they have an appealing back story: two friends whose families relocated to Florida amidst tumultuous circumstances in Venezuela. As teenagers, Arturo and Guillermo grew up idolizing bands like Iron Maiden and Metallica and now they've crafted a fantastic, original style of their own, with wicked guitar play and grandiose vocals built atop a rhythmic array that is simultaneously feverish and suave, with choruses that are imminently singable. Stream their latest LP at least twice through and I can predict which lines you'll be humming at work and crowing in the shower at the top of your lungs.

When the band burst upon the scene in 2013 with Cave of Swimmers, I remember the community sharing it like mad. From "Materia" onward to their incredible namesake anthem, it was as if the Latin Candlemass had emerged from the salty Atlantic to enthrall crowds like some kind of warbling Creature from the Black Lagoon.

Cave of Swimmers by CAVE OF SWIMMERS

Their music-making only got better from there. 2015 gifted us with a second EP, Reflection, featuring a song I have no doubt will one day be a doom metal standard, "Prince of the Power of the Air". I'm telling you, the Psycho crowd went stompin' nuts when they heard those quasi-Biblical lyrics sung in epic doom fashion accompanied by that stern guitar tone, leading up to an incredible solo, and then a delirious second-half, which made everyone dance (whether we wanted to or not). It's infectious, like I said. I'm telling you, this sound cannot be matched. And I'm convinced it will not be stopped, either.

Reflection by CAVE OF SWIMMERS

2021 is Cave of Swimmer's year to ascend, for thus saith the Prophet that dwelleth atop the Rocks on High! Pandemic or no, it was this duo's time to release the material that had been welling up inside of them for so long. I guess we can call this their first LP, even though every spin so far has felt sufficiently hefty to refer to as a full-length. Six songs clocking in at over 30 minutes -- it's the band's next stepping stone in their journey from the recording studio into your earbuds and mine.

Aurora by CAVE OF SWIMMERS

'Aurora' (2021) plays like the first songbird of spring, if you'll indulge my idyllic wording for a moment. It's just so full of earnestness, life, and yes joy. Three things that we've been longing for in the midst of so much treachery and nihilistic despair. Hell, I consider myself something of a nihilist, but this band melts away my grim pessimism. It's all encapsulated in the thrashy, downtuned attack married to a kind of urgent Latin vibe that says "We've got one night left to live, let's die with a smile!"

After an atmospheric introduction that foreshadows material still to come, we're treated to "The Sun," which the band released as a single awhile back. I remember telling them at the time, "You guys should be huge." I meant it with all my heart, too. Certainly, this isn't watered down pop music fare, yet I think the average heavy music listener will find it wholly accessible. I'd put this Cave of Swimmers neck-and-neck with any Top 50 touring metal act, based on this track alone. Maybe I'm just enamored of their sound and being less than objective. So sue me.

Next up: "Double Rainbow," which is a kind of resurrection of optimism. Hope for a new and better tomorrow. "Forget the hate, forget the scene, forget the life of complacency," Guillermo sings. "A second arc, new scenery, our time is here. Don’t let it go! When I hear it, I too want to believe." It's a message that's especially important for us to convey to the next generation of rockers and metalheads, lest they be weighed down by our own disillusionment and mistakes. This is a song that encourages that that brash, foolhardy youthful joie de vivre and its power to change the status quo.

"My Human" opens up with a burst of syncopated guitar that reminds me of something Tom Morello likes to cook up, but its mere window dressing for a song that develops into something purely Cave of Swimmers. A single melodic line of epic singing accented by a soft layer of synthesizer lays out the verse, followed by one headbanger of a chorus. It's a song about companionship and the consolation that we can have in one another, if we will only open ourselves up long enough to being truly human. To give and in turn receive. It also seems to speak of a hope beyond this life, at least in some ethereal, metaphysical sense.

"Looking Glass'' unloads a spitfire of "Say hello to my little friend!" style riffage that rips open into a chorus I could definitely take with me to salsa lessons, if I were to dare return. Remind me to tell you about the time I accidently cracked a partner's nose with my elbow while trying to pull off one of those fancy turn-and-swing maneuvers. Sigh. Some of us have no rhythm, whatsoever. But I recognize a good slam-dancing song when I hear it!

Which leads me to talk "Dirt." Much more gritty than its predecessors, accompanied by a spooky synth of the kind Rob Zombie or Acid Witch are apt to toy with. Even as the mood turns grim, it's a foot shuffler nonetheless. And there's no denying the power of those soaring, falconesque vocals. Guillermo seems capable of transporting listeners to a higher plane of consciousness. Good thing, too, because the message is that we've all been living in our mental prisons for far too long, reinforced by "pride and ego trips."

Billions of us Where are we going to? Chasing our tails around the sun Bleeding our hearts Divided and conquered, too Buy us for sale at the dollar store Raised like pigs on dirt

It's time to break free. The song ends with a section of flamenco-style guitar executed with deft classical technique. It reminded me a bit of Psychroptic's "Euphorinasia" -- another song that makes brilliant use of acoustic guitar.

"C.S." is Cave of Swimmer's swan song -- a send-back to their earliest work. Their reprisal reminds me of something Metallica would do. There's a certain "Nothing Else Matters" mood about it all. Then out of nowhere, a spurt of volcanic riffage and mad drumming breaks out into a Gojiraesque hoe-down. Oh yes, and there's another celebratory trve metal guitar solo lodged in there juxtaposed with complex rhythmic percussion.

I'm telling you, Cave of Simmers cannot be beat. The game belongs to them. Their time is now. Give ear...

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#D&S Reviews #Cave of Swimmers #Miami #Florida #thrash #metal #doom metal #epic doom #heavy rock #Doomed and Stoned

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noahmanskar · 4 years

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The Best Albums of 2020 (and from the Before Times)

I read a lot of year-end music roundups, and several this year have come with a resonant caveat: It’s been harder to discover new music this year, both because of physical limitations (no shows, no record-store browsing, no chats with friends about your latest finds), and because the way we used music fundamentally changed. It certainly did for me. Rather than serving as the backdrop for a commute or a night out, it created moments of solace from cabin fever while doing dishes, or showering, or running semi-weekly errands. So I often turned to what was comfortable and familiar, songs that conjured memories and feelings to get me through the day. Even on the rare occasions of social listening, the groups I was with drifted into nostalgia — middle school dance tracks, mid-2000s emo, inherited dad rock, even songs from just a year or two ago, when everything was simpler, relatively speaking.

That’s not to say nothing new moved me. There was a handful of albums and songs that were crucial to getting through the doldrums. They soundtracked bike rides, long walks, longer drives and lots of small moments mentioned above. But I don’t think I can think about my favorite music of this year without thinking about the albums of the past that got me through it. Besides, one of the many lessons 2020 taught is that time is a bizarre illusion anyway. (This exercise also lets me write about some recent albums that I didn’t get to write about when they were actually released.

So here are the albums, past and present, that made 2020 bearable. I hope you found yours, too.

Tame Impala, “The Slow Rush”

Tame Impala’s fourth LP came out on Valentine’s Day. That afternoon, Claire and I had a lunch date to mark the occasion before we got on a plane to visit my parents. The night before, we had gone out to dinner with friends visiting from San Francisco and then to a bar, where we huddled next to strangers on a water bed. Roughly a month later, all of this would be unimaginable, and Kevin Parker’s lyrics to “One More Year” would be eerily prescient as we settled into this new normal:

But now I worry our horizon's been nothing new 'Cause I get this feeling and maybe you get it too We're on a rollercoaster stuck on its loop-de-loop 'Cause what we did one day on a whim Has slowly become all we do

The song is really about surrendering to time, and not worrying about it passing in spite of your ambivalence. The opening chants of Parker’s “Gregorian Robot Choir” make it easy to surrender. They carry you into a world where, as the cover art suggests, all that time you were worrying about has already passed, so you might as well dance. At the same time, the songs that follow, like “Borderline,” “Breathe Deeper” and “Lost In Yesterday” make it easy to remember what it was like to dance in a sweaty room with people you love, and to look forward to doing it again, after a little more time passes.

Fleet Foxes, “Shore”

There’s something comforting about the fact that Fleet Foxes released this record on the exact moment of the autumnal equinox. It’s a reminder that nature has its own rhythms that carry on regardless of what occurs in our human lives. They give us a measure of certainty in uncertain times. One of these rhythms — death — looms large in “Sunblind,” an ode to Robin Pecknold’s departed musical forebears: David Berman, Bill Withers, John Prine and others. This song exuding calm acceptance shifts into “Can I Believe You,” which wrestles frankly with doubt and fear.

These tracks contain profound contradictions, but sonically, they're both bright, hopeful and sure. That’s what made this album such a balm in the sixth month of this pandemic, a time of both growing darkness and hope for what might be on the other side. It reminds us that there’s power and beauty in feeling all these things at once.

Lil Uzi Vert, “Eternal Atake”

This one spent two years in label purgatory, but it finally arrived in March to prove Lil Uzi Vert can do it all. He’s at his most versatile here, spitting and crooning, boasting and balladeering. “You Better Move” is an early standout packed with playful nostalgia, including a beat that samples that classic PC pinball game and delightful jabs like these:

Yeah, step on competition, changin' my shoes Green shirt, bitch, I'm Steve, where is Blue? Every chain on, I pity a fool I'm an iPod, man, you more like a Zune Made her eat on my dick with a spoon, ew Versace drawers, bitch, you Fruit of the Loom

Then there are the melodic tracks like “Urgency,” which compel you to hum along even on the first listen. The excellent diversity made it worth the wait for this hourlong journey to another planet.

Sturgill Simpson, “Cuttin’ Grass Vol. 1: The Butcher Shoppe Sessions”

I haven’t spent much time with Sturgill Simpson outside of 2014′s “Metamodern Sounds in Country Music,” and I can’t say I’ve ever listened to another bluegrass album all the way through. But these new cuts of songs picked from Simpson’s catalog are wonderfully enticing. Simpson puts the talents of his backing band front and center, and their harmonies and rhythms illuminate his vivd songwriting in new ways. It was a great introduction to the genre for me.

Fiona Apple, “Fetch The Bolt Cutters”

I got here after the hype, after the perfect 10, after all the year-end number-ones. Fiona Apple lives up to all of it. Her compositions are complex and evocative, the lyrics tender and biting at once. Her artistry is unsparing. The chorus to the title track is already getting stuck in my head, and I can’t wait to spend more time with this one.

Bea Troxel, “The Way That It Feels” (2017)

Almost a decade has passed since I first saw Bea Troxel play. She was in an incredibly talented trio with two of my high school classmates: Maeve Thorne (who has an entrancing solo EP of her own), and Rita Pfeiffer (the violinist on this record). They ended up winning my school’s battle of the bands, and I got to interview them for the student newspaper. Shortly after our senior year, they recorded an album that still outshines most of today’s indie folk. So I jumped at the chance to all three of them again in Brooklyn.

Troxel’s performance in particular was a revelation. I won’t ever forget how I fell into a trance as she picked away at “Talc,” which exemplifies her gift for natural metaphor. I haven’t stopped playing her record since, and it’s been a constant comfort throughout this year. Her voice is one of a kind, her songwriting is rich, and the compositions flow together beautifully. I can’t wait for more; in the meantime, “The Way That It Feels” will be on repeat.

Travis Scott, “Birds In The Trap Sing McKnight” (2016)

There’s been much ado about the brilliance of “Astroworld,” Travis Scott’s magnum opus, but I have a soft spot for his sophomore LP, where he reached the peak of the spare and heavy sound that started to take shape on “Owl Pharaoh.” There are plenty of sonic layers here, and the ordering of the tracks is a craft in itself — a series of peaks and valleys that glides from the haze of “beibs in the trap” to the climax of “goosebumps” and then into the cool waters of “pick up the phone.” It feels like Scott is guiding you to and from these destinations. The journey is, as The Weeknd might put it, “wonderful.”

Harmonium, “Harmonium” (1974)

One of my pandemic binges was “Letterkenny,” the sharp Ontario-set sitcom with top-notch banter and a great soundtrack full of indie hits and Canadian deep cuts. The fight scenes are elegantly choreographed, but so are the handful of sequences at the end of key episodes that reveal the show’s emotional bedrock. One such scene is set to Harmonium’s “Un musicien parmi tant d'autres” — the main characters are reveling in a bar with their Québécois pals, whom they’ve just helped beat up a rival group. As the song builds to its climactic chorus, leading man Wayne, surrounded by couples, realizes his longing for companionship. Another fight breaks out, but instead of joining in, Wayne makes his way through the slow-motion fray toward the woman he’ll propose to in the next season. (Their relationship later falls apart, but that doesn’t undercut this scene’s beauty.)

This is probably the first foreign-language album I’ve listened to in full, but all of it evokes that feeling for me — the joy of walking through the chaos to reach what’s really important. Not a bad sentiment for these times.

Bon Iver, “22, A Million”

To talk about this weird, dark and brilliant album, I need to talk about “715 - CR∑∑KS.” Everyone I’ve talked to about the third track on “22, A Million” either loves it or can’t stand it. I’m devoted to it to the extent that it was my most-played song on Spotify this year. It oscillates between tenderness and fear, between silence and explosions of sound. The lyrics are an epitome of Justin Vernon’s cryptic poetry. It’s isolated and spare and enthralling and beautiful in its own bizarre way — just like the rest of the album, which is rich with themes of persevering through the darkness in spite of the uncertainty about when the light will appear. Vernon is alone on “CR∑∑KS,” but he’s accompanied by a cacophony of his own voice. As alone as we might feel right now, there’s always someone else shouting through the darkness with us, even if we can’t see them.

#music #2020 #bon iver #harmonium #bea troxel #travis scott #lil uzi vert #sturgill simpson #fiona apple #fleet foxes #tame impala

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ask-glados · 5 years

Text

GLaDOS Playlist

// Here’s my playlist for GLaDOS! It goes in chronological order of the events in GLaDOS’s life. More songs may be added over time.

~Link to full playlist ~

——————

“iRobot” by Jon Bellion

This song represents GLaDOS’s anger and feelings of bitterness and resentment at the scientists who killed her human self and turned her into a robot and buried her human emotions, turning her into “just a robot.” She used to know how to love and be human, but now she’s just circuits and wires. This is GLaDOS more toward the beginning of her character development, but after she’s learned of her human self, so this could be how she feels when she has that realization as a potato, or after Portal 2 when there’s no imminent danger to distract her and she finally has time to fully process her emotions about the whole ordeal.

"I Expect You To Die" by Schnell Games

This is GLaDOS being all snarky when she's pursuing either Rattmann or Chell throughout the facility and they keep managing to survive and avoid her. GLaDOS keeps taunting them, saying how she's gonna catch them eventually.

“Sad Machine” by Porter Robinson

This song pretty much encompasses GLaDOS throughout Portal 2, as well as her relationship with Chell. Chell awakens her again, GLaDOS depends on Chell because she needs her as a test subject, and when GLaDOS becomes a helpless potato, she has to depend on Chell. She lets Chell go alone at the end and after all that GLaDOS put Chell through, Chell will likely want to get on with her life and “never speak of this again,” which makes GLaDOS sad because Chell was her only friend, but she has to let her go in the end. GLaDOS continues to obsess over her after she’s gone until she finally makes new friends.

“You Monster” by Willbedfordmusic

Pretty self-explanatory. This song is about GLaDOS reflecting on the events of Portal 2 and remembering her human life and telling Chell to just go and leave her because no one ever seems to want to be around her and it makes her lonely and sad but she won’t admit it, so she just pushes everyone away and buries her emotions. Even the mention of space at the end of the song can be applied to her because space is cold and empty and lonely.

Songs GLaDOS wrote:

"Still Alive"

GLaDOS boasts about how she's still alive and doing science despite everyone's efforts to kill her (both the scientists and Chell). The song is highly sarcastic and cocky, but also underlined by hints of GLaDOS’s loneliness and need for companionship in lines like “go ahead and leave me.”

"PotatOS Lament"

GLaDOS is all alone, stuck as a weak potato battery, unable to move, and having her body slowly eaten by a bird. She isn't sure whether Chell survived the fall or if Chell will come for her or not. She can hear the reactor core becoming unstable up above and knows that the facility will blow up soon and she can do nothing to stop it. She's lost everything. She's lost her facility, all her power. She can't test. She can't do science. All she has left is her voice, so she sings a heartbreaking lament as she tries to contain her sobs and desperately hopes for someone to come save her.

"Want You Gone"

GLaDOS decides Chell isn't worth the effort to try and kill, so she lets Chell go, but isn't willing to admit that she misses having her around. This song shows that despite her best efforts to delete her humanity, GLaDOS is still being affected by it. She is still lonely and wants companionship and someone to talk to.

"You Wouldn't Know"

GLaDOS has now made new friends and started a new and improved life and is now boasting to her ex-friend Chell about it. Just replace the “Batman” lyric with “Tesla.” ;)

"GLaDOS's Song" (Don't Say Goodbye) by Ellen McLain

This song shows a different side of GLaDOS than is usually seen. It shows her inner feelings of loneliness and longing for companionship. It also shows how she really does care about others after tapping into her humanity in Portal 2. It seems to mainly be about her missing Chell, but it can be applied to other characters as well. For example, it could apply to her missing Tesla when he temporarily breaks up with her.

TeslaDOS

"The Day That We Met" by Joel Evans

This song represents the start of GLaDOS's romance with Tesla and their romance as a whole, how they both are leaving behind the 'sad stories' of their pasts and beginning anew with each other, and how Tesla is teaching GLaDOS to be a kinder person.

"If I'm Lucky" by Melody Gardot

An old-fashioned-sounding romantic song for TeslaDOS that fits their romantic outings in Tesla's time period, especially the line "If I'm Lucky, I'll go through the years with you," which could also refer to their time traveling. I can imagine them slow-dancing to this song. <3

"Take Me Back In Time" from Sonic R

This song represents the joy and excitement Tesla and GLaDOS feel going back in time together with her hologram in disguise. They go on dates and explore scientific phenomena, all while hiding the fact that she isn't (fully) human. Tesla takes her to his favorite places and they laugh and have fun together wherever they go, sometimes pulling little tricks on people and giggling about it — such as having GLaDOS challenge and beat big guys at eating contests, because everything she eats is incinerated in her holographic stomach and she never gets full.

Love Like You and Love Like You (Reprise) by Rebecca Sugar

This is the song GLaDOS sings to Tesla to tell him that she's willing to change and become a better person for him. She sings this to him after their temporary break-up, which convinces him to give her another chance. She wants to 'learn how to love like him.'

"Oath" and "Don’t Think Twice" by Utada Hikaru

(for “Oath,” turn on “English (United Kingdom)” captions for the direct English translation)

This is GLaDOS and Tesla's proposal and wedding song, 100%. Both versions of this song represent how they have always been married to science and even though they're in a relationship, they always thought that marriage wasn't really their thing. But now they've decided that they've changed their minds and they want to get married and be together doing science forever. The first verse of “Don’t Think Twice” is Tesla's proposal, talking about how he lived in a world of thieves like Edison and he tells GLaDOS that's she's everything he ever dreamed of. And while his proposal is a proud, grand display of his Tesla Coils playing music for her, he's still nervous when he proposes to her because he isn't sure if she'll accept. And then GLaDOS comes back at him with a sassy "You must be kidding me, did you really think..." And Tesla's heart stops for a second as she pauses before finishing her sentence: "I could say no?" And he's relieved. She was just messing with him by pausing like that, which is just like her.

The “Oath” version of this song gets more direct in talking about getting matching rings and having a wedding, so that’s why I like to include it. Its lyrics “I never believed in destiny but now I’m starting to believe it exists” are GLaDOS speaking to Tesla, and the line about “wanting to cling to you every night” is also GLaDOS because she’s a clingy cuddle core. XD

“You’ll Be In My Heart” by Phil Collins

I’m not sure what would make GLaDOS cry, but I like imagining her crying and Tesla comforting her with the lyrics of “You’ll Be In My Heart.” And I imagine it’s him comforting her with it when she’s in a sorry state, like stuck as a potato again or in her hologram form. Maybe she’s crying because she was cut off from her system and tortured with birds for a day or two or it could be after they have a fight or their reunion after their temporary breakup. And with the part of the song where it talks about them seeming different on the outside but being the same on the inside and others not understanding, I can see that being about how she’s a robot that used to be human and he’s a human and some people may think their relationship is wrong because she’s “just a robot” and not human.

Science-related and misc:

“The Mariner’s Revenge Song” by The Decemberists

This song is all about getting revenge on a guy and GLaDOS loves revenge. There’s also a whale involved, which also hearkens back to Moby Dick, which is another tale of revenge which GLaDOS quoted from in her sped-up voice in Portal 2.

“The Elements Song” by Tom Lehrer

It’s the Periodic Table in song form and GLaDOS loves singing about science.

“Poisoning Pigeons in the Park” by Tom Lehrer

GLaDOS does not like (most) birds, so she would take delight in this hilarious tune about poisoning pigeons. Tesla, however, would not appreciate this song, lol (given how much he loves his pigeons).

#Portal #Portal 2 #GLaDOS #Aperture Science #GLaDOS Playlist #TeslaDOS #Data Analysis — {headcanons/theories}

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fenrys-moonbae · 5 years

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A Bright Star in Centuries of Darkness--Chapter 1

Eleanor Ashryver, noble lady and Princess of Wendlyn, swore viciously as she looked over at Evalin and hissed "...Is he....singing?"

"I believe so, cousin." Evalin tried and failed to hide the smile spreading across her face, her eyes flicking over to the open window where a lovely tune waltzed, "it seems you've got yourself a tom cat yowling at your window."

Bloody gods.

----

A take on the story of Aedion's mother and Gavriel's meeting, relationship and eventual parting. Pre-Throne of Glass but follows all established canon points. Rating due to future sex scenes and some coarse language.

Hi All! This is a little short side project I decided to work on since I recently re-read Kingdom of Ash. Not much information is given on Aedion's mother in the canon or on what her relationship with Evalin and Rhoe was so I took creative liberty and established one.

The waulking song used for this chapter is located here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NRcXCdwfM9k

Enjoy!

----

Shafts of warm sunlight slipped through the high arches of the servants’ quarters of the palace in Varese as they worked, swathing the room in a buttery golden hue. The sparkling rays danced across the fibers of the wool as it thumped rhythmically across the table, setting the threads shimmering like emeralds.

Each press of the freshly dyed fabric against the wood thrummed through the sun-warmed hall as it was passed from hand to hand, tugging and stretching. Beautiful, lithe voices raised in unison in time with its cadence.

He mo leannan,

Hó mo leannan,

‘S e mo leannan a’ fear ùr—

An old fae ditty, reserved for waulking--- and one of Princess Eleanor Ashryver’s favorite tunes to sing during one of her most beloved pastimes. She’d routinely sneak away from palace duties to participate in it, spending her time singing and sitting thigh to thigh and elbow to elbow with the servants, her friends, kneading and stretching the bolt.

With a twist of her hands, she worked the fabric beneath her palms, feet tapping in time as her voice rose and fell along, her nail beds already saturated with deep emerald. The wool in her hands was freshly woven cashmere soaked in Terrasen green, crafted specifically for its future princess, Evalin Ashryver, soon to be Galathynius.

The lovely lady whose intellect and grace could crack even the hardest of foes, who was renowned for carrying a presence of wisdom and strength.

That was, if you didn’t know of the bashful creature she could become behind closed doors, the bright flush that overtook her pale skin when flustered or the rare but clever curses that could slip through her delicate lips when no one was listening.

It was those parts of her cousin that Eleanor knew and loved the best, the parts she knew that Evalin’s future husband would grow to love as well. That was, if they could get the blushing bride to walk down the aisle without her turning the shade of a tomato or spluttering like a broken spigot.

Fortunately, the event was still months off.

Enough time for dear Evalin to pull herself together enough that she might string coherent sentences together before being bound to her handsome and daring Prince Rhoe, heir of Terrasen’s great throne.

Eleanor couldn’t help but grin, the lovesick expression of her cousin’s fair face still dancing through her mind.

She’d never let Evalin hear the end of it.

Not that the young prince had responded much better according to the gossip that flitted through the palace in the wake of her return. Apparently, King Orlon had had a jolly time teasing the lovebirds throughout Evalin’s stay and had laughed quite loudly and openly at his brother’s attempt at courtship upon the princess’s departure.

Two birds of a feather then, destined to rule a bright and glorious kingdom.

She could not find room for more joy in her heart at the prospect.

Even if part of her panged at the emptiness that would follow her cousin’s nuptials and inevitable departure. While born a princess, Eleanor’s right was only in name, not poised to inherit any power or lands, and her future had always been somehow . . . flat and vague.

And without Evalin’s constant presence and companionship…

She gripped the fabric tightly as the next length was passed to her, her mind willing the worm of sorrow away.

Now wasn’t the time for such idle thoughts. Even if the prospect had chased sleep from her in the previous weeks, leaving her mind to wander in the darkness of her chambers.

Even if Evalin had looked prime to invite her to go with her, to whisk her off to Terrasen so that they would never be apart . . .

She banished the thought.

No, she could not go. Wendlyn was her home and where she would stay. Even if her dearest cousin was to set sail for foreign lands.

Close in age, she and Evalin had been hand in hand since they were children, nearly identical in appearance and thick as thieves and twice as mischievous.

The palace staff had bemoaned their more . . . adventurous endeavors. Even as encroaching adulthood had slowly stripped them of the freedom they’d relished in their youth, they’d still found ways to entertain themselves and stir up trouble in the way that only two young princesses might.

Old Nan had still yet to forgive them for stealing Lord Edgar’s wig six summers before, their teenage curiosity getting the better of them. They’d merely wondered if the rumors of it being made of cat hair were true.

The rumors, much to her and Evalin’s eternal disappointment, had been false.

Lord Edgar’s fit of rage and spewing had not been, however, the lord having fled the castle in such a rage that he’d forgotten to dress himself properly and had loaded himself into his carriage in only his underthings.

He’d yet to visit the palace again much to her cousin, the crowned King Glaston’s, annoyance.

Eleanor had remained unruffled when confronted, justifying that the man was insufferable anyway, hardly fit for life as a human much less as a lord. Evalin, ever the pacifist, had supported her claim, albeit in far fewer, much less damning words.

They’d been sent to drudgery duty as punishment: Evalin to the kitchens and Eleanor to seamstresses, in hopes that separating the girls might dampen their exploits. Much to everyone’s disappointment, Eleanor had discovered a love of weaving and now made a habit of sneaking off to join the servants. Evalin, for her part, had taken an interest in the culture of the demi-fae staff she worked with, going so far as to visit a small demi-fae village called Mistward to better understand their plight.

The same place where Evalin returned from now, due back any moment.

Far too close to the border of Doranelle and that heinous Fae-Queen Maeve, Eleanor thought with irritation. Maeve’s unexpected fascination with Evalin had left everyone in the Ashryver estate unsettled, the ancient queen’s wickedness preceding her.

The sooner Evalin was home, the better.

Waving her hands, Eleanor flicked the excess bits of dye and diluted urine from her fingers before gripping the fabric taut again, brushing her leg against the woman next to her.

The tune they were singing came to a slow end, fading on both her tongue and those of the women around her. Shifting her gaze, her eyes landed on one of the younger servant girls at the end of the row who quickly selected another, slapping the fabric in time, and began to sing jovially, her broad smile contagious.

Eleanor almost snorted at the song the girl had selected, sung in the common tongue--a tale of a handsome fae lord who had come to town to woo the prettiest lady and sweep her away off to his fine kingdom.

Oh, he comes o’er hill and dale,

Sword strapped right,

Bonny and bright,

Come to bid his tale--

Gods help any woman foolish enough to run off with one of the fae males, she thought harshly, With their immortality and brute strength . . . even if they aren’t difficult on the eyes. Not that she and Evalin had taken a habit of watching the visiting emissaries ride in, speculating on what was beneath those fine tunics--

Even caught up in the song and her work Eleanor didn’t miss the servant’s door opening or the soft scrape of boots as Evalin peeked her head into the room, her turquoise eyes searching as she scanned the room.

Relief flooded her.

Home and safe.

Tossing up a hand she waved Evalin over, who must have just arrived as she was still clad in her traveling dress, a cloak wrapped about her slender shoulders.

Watching her cousin’s approach, Eleanor immediately noted that her normally slim, proud shoulders were tight and her lovely mouth seemed pinched, even as she smiled sincerely at her. Sensing something amiss, she rose from her seat, leaving her portion of the fabric on the table to be rapidly swept up by surrounding hands.

“Greetings, cousin,” Evalin chimed, reaching out delicate hands to wrap around Eleanor and pull her close, the smell of smoke and the forest wafting from her cloak, “I am so very glad to see you.”

“As am I.” Pushing away, Eleanor looked over Evalin once, furrowing her brow in concern, the formality, the tight posture-- “Eva, is everything all right?”

Evalin’s eyes flickered behind them toward the servents, her pink lips down turning slightly—no, it wasn’t—but this wasn’t the place to discuss it.

Eleanor was about to suggest they go somewhere to talk when Lucielle, an elderly servant whose hair had once been as fiery as her temper, sent a knowing look across the table at the two princesses.

“Your Majesties,” she chimed, slipping away from the waulking table and dipping into a slight curtsey, “if you wouldn’t mind, could you perhaps take the old dye out? It would save an old woman with terrible knees a trip up the stairs.”

“Of course, Lucielle,” relief flooded Evalin’s face, her shoulders loosening, “we’d be happy to help.”

“Oh good, good, such lovely, kind ladies both of you.” The woman waved a withered hand over her shoulder. “There’s only a few bowls that need to go. Pour them in the buckets and dump it off into the grass.”

“Yes, of course,” Eleanor murmured, watching Evalin with an eagle’s gaze, “we’ll go now.”

“Bloody whore,” Eleanor swore as she slammed the buckets of dye and urine down on the battlement, her regal face set in a cool rage. If she ever got her hands on that dark queen--“How dare she address you like that?” “Language, Elle,” Evalin reprimanded, sending a long glance at the guards at the edge of the battlements. Their attention was averted from the princesses as they had been trained, but they still had ears. “And . . . it is what it is. She would listen to none of my pleading.” “Of course not,” Eleanor quipped, her sweet voice harsh as she threw one of the buckets they had carried up the stairs over the battlement walls and onto the grass below, splashing the ground with green dye and the urine used to set it. “How dare anyone call out the illustrious Maeve on her brutal rule.” Evalin had recapped the hardships the demi-fae faced, the scorn they received from both the humans and the fae. A people caught between two races with no home of their own--many of whom spent their lives trying to win the favor of the fae queen only to live their days out in poverty in the small rural villages between the human and fae lands.

“It would be a blessing on this kingdom and the next if she’d rutting keel over,” Evalin paled at the insinuation, even as Eleanor hissed in fury, “Gods above know that royal bit—” “Eleanor,” Evalin warned again, ever the water to Eleanor’s fire, “Ears, cousin. Ears.” “Piss on them,” she shot back, her vision nearly red as she thought on the fae queen. “If she’s so offended by my words then Maeve can come here and address it with me, but Gods know she won’t leave that stone throne or the harem of pretty warriors she collects.”

Evalin cringed as the words flowed past Eleanor’s lips.

But what reaction had she expected when recounting such news? Not only was Evalin the crown princess of Wendlyn and Eleanor’s greatest friend, she carried the bloodline of Mab, which entitled her to more respect that Maeve had ever given.

And going so far as to bargain with Evalin about her firstborn in exchange for the demi-fae’s rights--

“You shouldn’t be going back to Mistward, Eva.” She shook her head, the gall of the queen to try and barter with Evalin’s future child . . . “Stay as far away from the woman as you can.” “They are my friends, Elle,” Evalin murmured, running a hand through her golden locks as she glanced towards the mountains and the village that dwelled deep within, as though she could see all the way to that fortress, “and no one else will stand for them.” “And of your own safety?” She knew Maeve wouldn’t be so foolish as to attack a crown princess, but using magic to coerce-- “That has to be taken into account too.”

“I know, Elle,” she placed a hand on her stomach, as though her thoughts drifted to the life that would one day grow there, to the life that Maeve had so casually predicted. “I know.”

“Foul demon woman,” Eleanor grumbled as she lifted third bucket of dye to dump over the battlements edge, perhaps it was best her cousin was going to Terrasen, if for no other reason to be away from gods damned Maeve, “I hope I never see the likes of her.” “Me either, Elle.” Evalin shook her head, her honey-colored locks catching the light of the fading afternoon sun, before smiling up at Eleanor, finally, a true smile. “Though I am glad to see you. I’ve missed you in our weeks apart.” “Me too Eva, the castle has been too quiet without you.” A laugh. “I thought you’d quiet enjoy your time alone without me tailing after you.” “Well, a bit,” Eleanor conceded, smiling mischievously, “though with word of you and Prince Rhoe’s engagement I haven’t been able to be away from even the mention of you.” A delicate blush rushed up the princess’s cheeks as she averted her gaze from Eleanor.

Better, Eleanor thought as she watched her cousin nervously run her fingers over her cloak, her mind no doubt lost to the prince who awaited her across the sea.

“Let’s celebrate your return tonight and stay together, like we did as children.” Something sparked to life in Evalin’s eyes at that, at the long conversation they would have through the night, the mischief they might get into.

“Yes, let’s.” She rose from where she leaned against the stone and watched Eleanor, her eyes finally full of the mirth and warmth Eleanor was accustomed to.

She mulled on the thoughts of Maeve, of the idle threats she’d made to her dear cousin as she walked over and picked up the final bucket of waste, testing its weight in her hand. “Do you know what I say, Eva?” she inquired, swinging the bucket and sending its contents sloshing all over the stone as she stomped towards the edge of the battlements, the image of the dark-haired queen sharpening in her mind.

Evalin turned her attention back to Eleanor, her mouth opening as though to speak, her hand lifting as though to stop her. “Elle, wait—" She lifted the bucket above her head and smiled ferally. “Piss on Maeve.”

Ignoring her cousin’s warning, she slung the contents of the bucket over the wall with a flick of her arms, willing somewhere, somehow that damned queen also had a bucket of green dye and piss being dumped on her.

A loud splash sounded as the liquid splattered down the stone, followed almost immediately by a soft grunt of surprise.

She froze.

Evalin cringed, even as she couldn’t help the amusement that darted across her face. “You threw it over the wrong side, cousin.” Embarrassment flooded Eleanor as she realized in her fury she’d thrown the waste not onto the grass but onto the street below the battlement, the one that led to the palace gates. Right atop some poor fool strolling up the path at the wrong moment. Blinking in shock, she braved a look down the side of the battlements to see a tall figure below, soaked in the urine and dye she’d tossed over the side, his fine grey cloak stained a blotchy green. He was armed to the teeth, daggers and swords adorning his body, an intricate bow strapped across his back along with a large pack. Someone who had been on the road for a long time. With growing horror, she watched as he pulled his hood free with predatory ease, revealing pointed ears and long blonde locks that were now also tinged green and most certainly smelled like urine.

He turned his head upwards to see where his unexpected shower had come from—

Beautiful, was the only thought that flitted through Eleanor’s mind as she took him in, devastatingly beautiful and undoubtedly fae.

Eleanor couldn’t bring herself to move, the breath rushing out of her as she took in his features, the tawny eyes, the broad shoulders and shapely throat encrusted with black markings—

And hanging loosely atop his tunic was a silver medallion now also dripping in murky green, a medallion in the shape of an owl that indicated the ruling house of Doranelle-- Evalin was now next to her, a hand covering her mouth as she muttered, her eyes wide.

“‘Oh, piss on Maeve indeed.” A hole opened up beneath Eleanor as she blinked, breaking eye contact with the fae male before quickly stumbling away from the battlement’s edge, her bucket tumbling to the ground in front of her.

She’d gotten her wish, no doubt. She’d just soaked one of Maeve’s soldiers in dye and urine.

She slid down the battlement wall and placed her head in her hands, ignoring the stifled chuckles that quickly turned into full belly laughs from Evalin.

Couldn’t she keep her damned mouth shut?

Evalin wasn’t certain Eleanor’s face would ever return to its natural shade as they wound down the staircase back to the bottom floor of the palace. No, she assumed she’d probably stay tinged pink until the darkness claimed her.

She’d tried to warn her that she was dumping the bucket off the wrong side of the wall.

And, as was Eleanor’s style, the rancid mixture had splashed all over one of Doranelle’s soldiers, no doubt from Maeve’s personal guard.

Her stomach had dropped at the sight of him, an uneasiness settling over her with his sudden appearance.

Eleanor had merely muttered “Traitorous Gods” before swiping up the bucket and rushing down the stairs, her skirt swishing as she took them two at a time.

No doubt her brother Glaston would be less than pleased with their cousins’ actions. He’d grown cold since their father’s death and his ascension to the throne--the young man she’d loved so fiercely as a child was now a shell of who he’d once been.

His coldness tended to manifest as criticisms of herself and Eleanor. Mostly wild, free Eleanor. He was going to be furious.

Not that anything could be done to right it now.

“Majesties, there you are,” an old woman crowed as she rounded the corner of the hallway and spotted the two Ashryver princesses making their way down the hallway, “Your presence is requested at dinner tonight, and seeing as you’ve been on the road all day, Evalin,” a look towards her dusty cloak and scuffed, muddy boots,” you need to bathe and change.”

Old Nan was as stalwart and round as she’d ever been, her harsh eyes buried beneath bushy brows as she looked over both girls with that assessing gaze. Evalin instinctively straightened her spine, correcting her posture.

Eleanor beside her made no attempts to remedy hers.

Evalin had to resist the urge to reach out and nudge her, a gentle reminder to keep them both out of trouble--

The old woman stopped her approach suddenly, tentatively sniffing the air before gasping, “Is that . . . urine?”

Evalin tried to keep her face neutral as she heard her cousin clear her throat, smoothly slipping into a protected position behind her, letting her take the brunt of their nursemaid’s fury. “Nan, please—” Evalin began, trying to placate the old woman before her temper flared, knowing it would likely be unfruitful-

“Eleanor!” A reprimand, sharp and unforgiving. “I’ve told you before, princesses do not waulk fabric. Lucielle will be hearing of this. I’ve told her again and again to not let you sully your hands with the piss of servants.” “And I order you to leave her out of it.” Eleanor snarled from her position behind Evalin, still cleverly hidden as she peeked up over her cousin’s shoulders and narrowed her brows, “Princesses may do as they like, need I remind you.”

An argument as old as the castle itself, one Eleanor and old Nan had had from the time Eleanor had been able to muster the word “no”.

Evalin could already feel the headache creeping in.

She desperately needed to bathe, to sort through her thoughts concerning the conversation she and her aunt had a week before, when, over tea, she’d nonchalantly inquired after the prospect of her and her betrothed’s future heir, violet eyes smoldering as she’d carefully gauged Evalin’s reaction.

When she’d presented the idea that, should she bring her heir to Maeve for training, she’d gladly grant the demi-fae access to Doranelle and rights to all its splendors, as Evalin had been tirelessly working to achieve over the previous years.

The conversation had left her feeling oily, eager to depart Doranelle and return to Wendlyn where she might confide in someone she trusted, in Eleanor, what had been asked of her, in private and without the watchful eyes of her family or the fae.

And now with one of her soldiers arriving here at the palace within an hour of her return home—who was now covered in dye and refuse thanks to Eleanor’s careful hand—there was much for her think on.

“Nan,” Evalin interrupted the argument beginning to build around her, reaching a soft hand out for her nursemaid, “I would very much like to bathe and have Eleanor help me dress if you’d be willing.” Nan’s dark eyes narrowed with simmering fury but she nodded anyway, sidestepping the young princesses and allowing them to pass.

“Be quick Majesty,” she called after, wiping her hands in the apron at her waist, “we’ve a guest tonight.”

“Wonderful,” Eleanor muttered under her breath, only hissing slightly as Evalin surreptitiously stepped on her toe, silencing her. Evalin had assumed as much, knowing precisely who their guest would be. She’d known it from the moment she had noted the tell-tale grey clothing of the warrior from earlier, the fine weapons strapped across him.

He wasn’t an ordinary foot soldier, but one of Maeve’s bloodsworn. The medallion was only a courteous marker for anyone who did not know of them. But any who did . . . it was not hard to identify them, lethal and vicious in the way they moved, their ancient presences near palpable.

Sent, no doubt, at the behest of her aunt.

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lovelyfictional-imagines · 6 years

Text

Me and You. (Twelfth Doctor x Reader)

This is my first explicit songfic, meaning it actually involves the song. Well, mostly. I had the idea while driving home this morning, and Twelve is currently the rabbit hole I’ve fallen into. Often I’ll be listening to the playlist I’ve put together for the Doctor, and I crave to write more songfics. Please let me know if you enjoyed this, if I did this right. I’m still extremely new to this.

The numbers 1-5 are different scenarios, I’ve read a lot of stories in this format and absolutely loved them, and will probably have more like this in the future. I’m better with many shorter stories.

I swear there’ll be others, I actually have a Ten fic in the works right now.

This was also written in maybe two sittings, so I do apologize if it’s inconsistent or not as well written. I’ll be back to edit it a few more times, I’m sure.

Until next fic,

- Ashley

Song: Me and You by Jake Bugg

Word Count: 2697

All the time people follow us where we go We both should believe the path that we chose And I'll hold you with such delicacy No they won't catch you and me

He’d found her outside a strip mall, smoking. She was bleak, bleary, obviously having been beaten down by life thus far as she slouched against a metallic picnic table. The circles beneath her eyes were so dark they could’ve easily been mistaken for bruises.

“Did you know smoking is terrible for you?”

And suddenly he was there.

“Did you know I don’t give a shit?”

“Language! Good god, everyone here is so vulgar.”

“Well, you’re not wrong there. Apologies, then, it’s just been one of those days.”

“Looks more like one of those weeks in your case.”

A light glare was sent his way before she took another drag. Dropping it, she shrugged and scrambled on the table for it.

“You’re not wrong there, either.”

“What if I said I could take you away from all this and have you back in time for your shift?”

(E/C) irises swimming with uncertainty snapped in his direction, dropping her cigarette again, this time onto the pavement, in shock. She looked terribly unsure of him, and he couldn’t blame her. Here he was, a complete stranger, asking an exhausted looking young woman if she’d like him to take her away. “I’d say you’re mad. Unless you have some sort of funny time machine.”

“Don’t believe me, eh? Keep that thought in mind. Come with me.”

“Ah, that’s not suspicious now, is it? Older man coercing a young, vulnerable woman to follow him somewhere?”

He’d already leapt up and over the bench they’d been sitting on, striding off down the sidewalk.

“What’s your name anyway?” The cashier called.

“The Doctor. Coming?”

Rolling her eyes, she huffed in annoyance. Nevertheless, she followed him with a small smile on her face that managed to light up the rest of it. The confidence in his walk was a bit exaggerated, though she seemed to be so ecstatic that she didn’t seem to notice or care. A familiar blue police box came into view, and he approached it, tapping it with a certain fondness. Confusion spread over her worn down face.

“Now this really is concerning, I believe I should’ve been more careful from the start.”

“Oh calm down, don’t get your knickers in a twist. Have a look.”

Skeptically, she stepped forward, pushing the door open reluctantly. Moving inside, he heard a loud cry of shock, something along the lines of it being “bigger on the inside”. The Doctor chuckled to himself.

“Hasn’t gotten old yet.”

It's all over all of the time And if you want to I won't mind Please don't leave it I don't know what to do No they won't catch me and you

Here they were, on a busy street on the edge of London. (Y/N) sat behind the wheel of her ancient canary-colored car, chewing her lip in anticipation. The Doctor sat adjacent to her, leaned back casually. His foot tapped impatiently, position slightly shifting every few seconds. Tension was thick in the dusty air.

“Well?”

“I said I thought I could drive. Don’t actually know if I can. Haven’t had much of a chance to.”

“Anyone can drive, it’s elementary. You’re just not.”

A glare was shot in his direction, causing him to snort. It was a mirror image of his, contorting her lovely face. He grinned knowing that he’d grown on her as much as she’d grown on him. Stuck to him, he’d often tell himself, knowing it was absolute rubbish.

“Come on, you can do it. If a moron can do it, so can you.”

A small fist flew across the front seat, shoving him playfully.

“Shut it, Doctor. I’m trying to drive now, and it could be detrimental to both of us if I’m irritated.”

The Doctor chuckled, watching her aggravated face behind his dark glasses. A small smile attempted to break her glowering countenance. At last it was triumphant, a shy, cheeky expression that he’d only seen directed at him. Gentle dustings of pink swept across her cheeks.

“Let’s go.”

Speeding along after some difficulty merging into traffic, they were silent. The Doctor had yelled at her and the other driver simultaneously. Refusing to argue and attempt to remain at a reasonable speed concurrently, (Y/N)’s face burned. All she could do is grumble beneath her breath and continue on until they were far out of the city, bumbling along the countryside in her yellow car.

“You know,” he began, voice softer than before. An attempt to wordlessly apologize for his previous action. “I once had a car of my own, quite a bit like this one, too. Same color, not as junky. I took great pride in it.”

(Y/N) laughed loudly, apparently thinking it a joke. Feeling quite indignant, he puffed up a bit at her chortles. “I did! Years and years ago when I wore a different face.”

“I’m sure you could actually drive it, hm?”

“You’d be surprised at the many things I can do, (Y/N). Driving happens to be one of them.”

“How about smiling more?”

At this he gave her the most obnoxious leer he could muster, emitting a loud, obviously fake, snicker. Once again she giggled uncontrollably at his antics, and he found himself easing into a comfortable titter. Then they grew still again, though it was a comfortable quiet. Looking over to his companion, her concentrated and radiant disposition filling the automobile, the Doctor found a sense of pride filling him at the human he’d stumbled upon.

There are too many flashes and guards around me There is so little time and places to see And we can wait so patiently No, they won't catch you and me

Throughout every danger they’d faced together so far, the Doctor had never hesitated when he placed himself between it and his companion. Devotion made itself apparent not only in times of crisis, but moreso in the calmer moments, in the TARDIS. Anytime she’d needed help, even if it were reaching a shelf she’d have to scale in attempt to find whatever she was after. In moments of silence, when both were on opposite sides of the ship, he’d seek her out.

For months he fought it, refusing to go to her as often as he could. Why allow himself this? He’d been well-behaved, keeping his cool. Resisting would be a better word to describe his approach to his current feelings.

Feelings that had begun to extend, budding from their companionship in sarcasm and loneliness to something more... romantic, to his complete and utter trepidation. In those moments in the TARDIS, when there was something more in her eyes, something warm and inviting, his self-control was put to the ultimate test.

Seeing that silent plea, combined with the comforting heat of her room and the conflict in his hearts, caused him to shut himself off again. To push all of those vulnerabilities back into that metaphorical locked room he’d set aside with the label ‘too dangerous’. Too good, he often thought. Too whole for a broken man like him.

Whisking her across the galaxy to see things most humans wouldn’t ever be able to dream of brought him close to the breaking point every time. The astonishment across her soft features, the curiosity in her eyes, the mischievous curve of her lips. Knowing the unfiltered joy and wonder that filled her heart and mind was almost too much for him to bear. But it was worth it every time, anything was worth even a glance in his direction.

The Doctor felt like a lost dog, clinging to her and anything she was willing to give him emotionally. Any of her stories, recollections of her life before him, even the most mundane little quips, left him hanging on every word. Absorbing all of her voiced thoughts, debating with her, even flat out arguing with her, brought him closer. And it seemed to draw her closer, because the next time there would be more, even if an adjective or verb more, she’d oblige him.

He would wait. The Doctor could and would and probably had waited hundreds of lifetimes for something like he’d found in (Y/N). Different and similar to connections he’s made before, but unique all to herself.

It's all over all of the time And if you want to I won't mind Please don't leave it I don't know what to do No they won't catch me and you

Often he’d catch (Y/N) eyeing him not-so-discreetly as she propped herself up in various odd positions on whatever she could fit on. Not that he minded, not at all. As long as they’d been traveling together now, it felt like part of their daily routine. Dancing around each other and their affections in some kind of clumsy ballet, too afraid to step independently but too brave to stray far from what they’ve learned.

The Doctor knew in his hearts of hearts that he’d never initiate. Never would he overstep that line, the invisible boundary that had been drawn around their relationship. He, who would go headfirst into unknown territory without a second thought, was terrified. Completely and utterly terrified at the potential mistake he could make. Another mistake in his existence that he wasn’t sure if he was willing to make.

So when their brief touches began to last more than a few seconds, when their eyes would meet and lock instead of darting away, he found peace in an internal resolution. He would lay in wait, wait until it was too much for her. She was so wonderfully human, trying to follow her mind but being driven by her passionate, whimsical heart. Any feelings she had towards him would emerge sooner or later, and if she chose to act on them.... he wouldn’t mind. Not at all.

Until then, their hands would intertwine, hugs would become less uncomfortable on his part, and faces would draw nearer for longer before they turn away. As long as he was near her, he wouldn’t quite mind the wait.

All of these people want us to fail I won't let that happen no Just you believe me I'll hide you discreetly Discreetly from this cold world

Earth had been a cruel and unforgiving place for his young companion in her life prior to their meeting. Once he’d found her in tears, reflecting over a picture she’d dropped, (Y/N) poured out her heartaches on him. Before they’d met he would’ve run far when arms extended towards him, but now he hesitantly scooped her to him, trying to comfort her in any way.

The jobs she’d had barely made ends meet. When they met that day, almost an entire year ago, she’d been on her lunch break without anything to eat in sight. Sunken eyes had only reflected dull pain back at him. Only a smoke and a conversation, him sensing her desire to actually live and offering an out. He’d proved her wrong, and she hadn’t ever expressed the desire to go back. Not that he could blame her.

Unable to explain what troubled her, she left him with something he understood too well.

“I’ve done too many things, haven’t tried enough or tried too hard. And sometimes it smacks me right in the face.”

As she leaned into him, tears slowly beginning to dry, the Doctor felt his own pain. He’d spent centuries working through indescribable horrors of his own, still taking time even now to attempt to process them. Shadows of friends and foes crept behind him, always waiting. It was torture, almost, to know that this dependable, wonderful person he’d come to know was treated so terribly in her life before that she’d been willing to try any way to escape at the drop of a cigarette butt.

(Y/N) moved back to study his face. Watching with equal scrutiny, the Doctor observed her puffy (E/C) eyes, trembling (S/C) chin, and pouty chapped lips. That dreaded feeling blossomed in his chest at the misty abundance of affection in her features, even as her own emotional ailments afflicted her. During her own personal calamity, she still found ways to put him at ease with a silent affirmation of how much faith she had in him. That somehow he’d make things right, even if for a little while.

Even as she was completely blue, that terrifyingly airy feeling knocked the wind out of him. Realization poured through, filling any cracks of doubt that had previously served as an intentional protective barrier. It was true, true and real and paralyzing. Quickly he brought her back against his chest.

“Whatever you’ve done before doesn’t matter, it is what you choose to do now that does. And whatever you do, you will have a friend at your back. I swear it.”

Weak arms slithered around his waist, feeling her head caress his chest.

“Thank you, Doctor. For everything.”

Slowly he released her, and she stepped back and attempted to clean her face a bit. Feeling out of place, unsure of what to do, the Doctor remained where he stood until she initiated anything. Sentimentality was obviously not this body’s strong suit, though he wished to give more.

Her hand taking his own seemed to draw him from the recesses of his inner dialogue. A sweet smile was sent his way, brightening her rosy face. Making a mental note of how she looked at that particular time, he almost forgot what he intended to say. The Doctor sighed deeply, not entirely partial to the rush of solicitude through his veins that came with it. An easygoing smile finally planted itself on his thin mouth.

“Whatever it is, (Y/N), be it external or internal, I’ll support you to the best of my abilities. You have my word.”

Before he could properly appreciate the moment they were having, she was back. Swinging back into her heels, bouncing up on her toes, she hummed. Girlish excitement restored, determination to take on the universe and more.

“How about we find some adventure, eh?”

Returning to the noise, prepared to put their problems away for another day. The Doctor laughed at her spirit, glad to know she was bouncing back. Part of him knew she understood, at least somewhat, that he was trying his best.

“You’ve got moxie, I’ll give you that.”

“If we don’t start moving, I’ll give you a swift kick in the—“

Raising an owlish brow at her, she laughed out loud.

“C’mon Doctor, let’s go.”

“Alright, pottymouth.”

(Y/N) exited her room, the Doctor examining her as she left. Stretching his arms up and out, he rested his hands on the back of his head and exhaled loudly.

“What am I going to do with you, you peculiar girl?”

Following at his own pace, he trudged down the hall. The console room was a bit brighter; his companion was waiting patiently for him, plopped in yet another uncomfortable-looking position one set of steps. He approached her, standing near the command center, pressing buttons and pulling levers. “Where to?”

In her eyes he saw the entirety of the universe and its marvels, entirely awestruck by the impish expression she’d donned. Knowing the hunger for travel, for exploration, for knowledge, that she’d found within herself all too well, he was prepared to take her wherever her heart desired. To show her whatever would make her smile. The Doctor was completely at her mercy, on his knees to bring her joy.

“Anywhere.”

The TARDIS was off, rumbling and whirring like she always did. (Y/N) laughed out loud, watching the core with her refreshed fascination, burning brighter than the sun itself. The Doctor chuckled along with her, finding the answer to his self-imposed question that he had known all along.

“Everything.”

It's all over all of the time And if you want to, I won't mind Please don't leave it I don't know what to do No they won't catch me and you No they won't catch me and you No they won't catch me and you

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nonodino · 6 years

Text

TWC: Detective Personality + Quirks and Interests + Dectective’s History and Relationships

!!( I went sooooo overboard )!!

Basics:

Name: Caroline Urizar

Age: 24

Height: 5′5

Ethnicity: Mexican American or Chicana

Personality:

♥ Tries her hardest to make the best out of every situation. (Keyword:Tries)

♥ On rare occasions,she gets super frustrated and overwhelmed (Because she bottles everything up) that she lashes out, even though she immediately regrets it.

♥ ^ Apologizes ASAP after she sorts her thoughts out, ususally out of an immense sense of guilt and wants to be held accountable for what she does.

♥ A mother hen to her friends and mother. She wants the best for them.

♥ She’s pretty loyal to people she’s close too. Even more so if they have the same morals as her.

♥ Besides the occasional lashing out part, she’s kind of got a dog like personality. (Faithful, Selfless, family oriented, and protective).

♥ Crybaby™ Her first response in hard situations is to cry. Also cries at the silliest of things out of joy or just because something is just so adorable. An example of this, is that she once cried at a ladybug falling off of a leaf onto the sidewalk and helped it back up. Tina probably laughed.

♥ Try hard optimist, but sometimes reality slaps her in the face. She usually responds by isolating herself for a bit and cries it out. Then comes back with renewed hope. (It’s a pretty weird cycle)

♥ Since she’s seen as the ‘mom friend’, she doesn’t like to bother others with her problems. She prefers to work them out herself, if she can’t, she’ll pretend that she’s stronger than she is and continues forward. Ususally trying to bury it deep in her mind. Not very healthy, but that’s her.

♥ Most of her issues are with her own image. The biggest being her self esteem. She’s pretty self destructive, but if it comes to someone else, she’ll put all her effort into reassuring them and helping them however she can.

♥ She’s not the brightest. She tries really hard to be her best self, but dear god sometimes she’s really dense. Border line slow. But she eventually catches on! (I’m sure some of the department questions how she was made detective and it came as a surprise to her too).

♥ She blows her own mind which is a hoot to watch. She was amazed at the thought of how your heart has to beat constantly to run blood through your veins. It might be really stupid to others, but from this she comes to appriciate things more.

♥ Compassionate. Often makes the mistake of trusting or believing the wrong people.

♥ She’s worked very hard on refining her People skills (a trait inherited from her mother) and tends to be very talkative.

♥ She tends to be cautious as a detective. (Double checking areas, facts, or work. Preparing for the worst while hoping for the best when in delicate/dangerous situations.) But, let’s her guard down a bit in her personal time.

♥ Likes to avoid confrontation and would much rather find a middle ground. Which often let’s others walk all over her until she eventually has no choice but to speak up for herself.

♥ Patient to an extent. The extent varies with different types/ages people.

♥ A hopeless romantic, but scared of picking the wrong guy. She’s also scared that she’ll put too much pressure on him by her ideals of love and run them off. She’s sort of clingy and would feel awful if her partner felt suffocated.

So basically, she’s trying her best!

Some Quirks + Facts:

☀️ Twirls her hair around her finger without knowing it at times

☀️ Can’t go to sleep if she thinks her feet are dirty and washes them if she feels they are. Don’t ask.

☀️ Daydreams about cute relationship scenarios often. She also thinks of them to help her fall asleep

☀️ Has a bad habit of biting her nails

☀️ Plays late 80′s and 90′s pop aloud in her office on Pandora if she’s doing paperwork

☀️ Doodles all over sticky notes and has a stack of them on her desk near her monitor. She does this whenever she catches herself almost drawing on her paperwork.

☀️ Chews Trident gum a lot and keeps a few packs of them in her desk. Her favorite flavors are Tropical Twist, Watermelon Twist, and Trident Layers Strawberry + Citrus

☀️ Also keeps a Burt’s Bees lip balm on her at all times in the tint Rose

☀️ Replys to Tina’s messages with reaction pictures 60% of the time

☀️ Her photo gallery is mostly screenshots of outfits, memes, and things she wants to draw later

☀️ Spends a little too much time on Instagram at home

☀️ Talks to herself (sometimes even argues with herself)

☀️ Even though she’s half Mexican, she doesn’t know the language that well due to Rebecca’s and her father’s absence

☀️ Loses small pieces of jewelry all the time

☀️ Refuses to leave the house without concealer, mascara, and her eyebrows done

☀️ Straightens her hair almost everyday and when she doesn’t it’s in a side bun. (She has wavy hair)

☀️ Loves the winter and likes partly cloudy days the most

☀️ Uses the word ‘like’ a little too much to express herself + lots of hand gestures

☀️ Still has her childhood stuffed animals on her bed and can’t sleep without her suffed dolphin named Alfred Willy

☀️ She likes to wear a simple necklace everyday and her trademark piece of jewelry would have to be hoop earrings (Sliver or gold)

☀️ Doesn’t like to binge watch TV shows or movies unless they really catch her attention. Otherwise she only watches one or two episodes at a time.

☀️ There’s a chance she has some of her K-pop posters in a shoe box under her bed and most definitely has some albums on her bookshelf

☀️ Actually did very well in school and graduated from high school with a 4.2 GPA

☀️ Runs her fingers through her hair a lot, mostly when she’s got a strawberry face from receiving compliments or when someone flirts with her

Interests:

🌸 Likes to draw, though she doesn’t get to do it as much as she’d like to

🌸 Her music taste is mostly 2010-2014 or 80′s and 90′s American pop, K-Pop, and some dashes of older Reggaeton or alternative songs.

🌸 She likes to travel and watches blogs of people who go to countries she’d like to go one day

🌸 She makes doilies (usually when she watches TV) and gifts them to her friends and her mom

🌸 She likes to plant and has a window box garden outside her windows in her living room

🌸 Recycles and attends events to pick up litter and help sort out recyclables

🌸 Collects shells, sand dollars, and rocks that look pretty

🌸 ^ Crystals as well

🌸 Dances around her apartment often, like hairbrush microphone dancing. Far from professional.

🌸 Shopping and trying on outfits is one of her favorite things to do. She prefers simple outfits and owns a variety of coats and jewelry.

🌸 Does calligraphy and takes classes for it online

🌸 ^ She’d like to try pottery one day

🌸 Her favorite food joint is McDonalds

🌸 ^ Chinese food is at the top of her favorites too

🌸 Whenever Rebecca was around, she’d cook meals for her. She’s been trying to recreate them since those times, but something always tastes off.

🌸 She loves cats, but doesn’t have the time to take care of one

Personal/Detective’s History + Motives:

🌟 She joined the force in hopes of following in her father’s footsteps and to help protect the people of WayHaven

🌟 She loves Rebecca with all her heart and cherishes the time she spends with her

🌟 ^ Looks up to Rebecca and has always seen her as a role model. She wants to make her proud

🌟 She has a scar on her right knuckle from where she was washing dishes and accidentally broke a cup upon hearing that Rebecca wouldn’t make it to one of her birthdays.

🌟 Accepted Unit Bravo and the supernatural pretty quickly, although the thought still blows her mind

🌟 Wants to protect humans and supernatural from danger

🌟 She misses her father and often tries to recover whatever memories she can of him

🌟 As she was growing up, her bestfriend was a female grey and white cat named Michi. She died when Caroline was 19. She kept her collar and stored it away in a special place. (A wooden chest full of heartfelt memories, old sketchbooks, photo albums, and other trinkets). This loss triggered memories from her father’s funeral.

🌟 Unit Bravo might have an easier time identifying her due to an innocent heart murmur she was diagnosed with when she was 17

🌟 Has terrible seasonal allergies

🌟 Bobby was her second boyfriend and her most serious relationship. Which ended messily due to his lack of interest in their bond.

🌟 Tina is her best friend. She’d wouldn’t know what to do without her.

🌟 She quickly became friends with Verda when he first arrived and shares a close companionship with him as well.

🌟 Maintains a polite and respectful relationship with the Police Captian Sung

🌟 Tries to avoid Mayor Friedman at all costs. But when she can’t, she’s very polite. Avoids him due to the fact that he’s got an odd interest in her mother which makes her uncomfortable and a bit awkward.

🌟 Douglas has an odd crush on her from the night she saved him outside the bar. She’s flattered, but it makes her uncomfortable as well. At least it gets him motivated for work.

Unit Bravo Romantic Relationships:

When pursuing Adam:

💖 Totally doesn’t think he looks like a 90′s Vanilla Ice

💖 Shy and discreet flirtation (almost like she’s scared of rejection or how he’ll react)

💖 Highly respects him as a team mate

💖 Attracted to his independance and authority

💖 Feels most safe around him

💖 Flushes involuntarily when he’s around

💖 Keeps the conversation friendly and light

💖 Tries to see his side of the argument when they disagree (which isn’t so often surprisingly)

💖 She’s very worried she’ll say something stupid around him and have to deal with the embarrassment

💖 Sweaty palms

💖 Sometimes she’ll catch herself daydreaming about him and she’ll shake her head and furiously resume work before anyone notices the blush forming.

💖 Calm and sweet on the outside but a nervous wreck on the inside

💖 She still recalls the scent and warmth of his coat and lowkey wishes she could wear it all the time

💖 Soft thoughts 24/7 (Hugging, kissing, holding his big hand, etc.) Even her thoughts make her want to hide her face.

💖 Sometimes doubts his interest in her because of their different personalities

When pursuing Nate:

💕 Loves his honesty and kindness

💕 Appreciates that he’s open about his interest in her and smiles at the ground often when talking to him.

💕 Still shy and stutters a lot when she flirts

💕 Nate has a big, sweet presence that she wants to wrap herself in. He probably gives the best hugs.

💕 He’s like a Disney prince and she can’t help but imagine him as one. + 1000 other soft thoughts too

💕 He’s a welcomed change from Bobby, who didn’t give her the attention she wanted. So she’s beyond excited that he’s into her.

💕 Her hearts beating a mile a minute

💕 Relates to him due to their common traits

💕 She secretly likes having to look up at him

💕 She hopes he can teach her more Spanish

💕 Attracted to his intelligence and strong morals

💕 Could talk to him for hours

💕 She feels that she could learn a lot from him

💕 She gets giddy from remembering all the sweet things he’s said to her

💕 But, she feels like someone as amazing as him shouldn’t be with someone so dense and silly

#character profile #thewayhavenchronicles detective this is super long I'm sorry I got excited

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songbirdorpheus · 6 years

Text

26.) Second day of favorites! Favorite comfort food, favorite vice, favorite outfit, favorite hot drink, favorite time of year, and favorite holiday.

Comfort food... I'm tempted to say fruit salad, but I don't think it's right. I think it's something like pudding. Maybe rice pudding, maybe tapioca, I"m not sure, but pudding sounds good. Right now, I think his favorite vice may be drinking, but ordinarily it's sloth, he likes to lounge in bed like a lazy cat (especially with a lover). His favorite outfit is probably just a comfortable shirt (that's bright) and a pair of comfortable jeans that he's had for years that he's torn rips in and washed so much that the material is thin and sinfully soft. Favorite hot drink is either cocoa or tea, cocoa seems more like an 'i'm upset' thing, it could go under the 'comfort' label. His favorite season is spring when everything is blooming and everything is colorful. Favorite holiday... I assume they celebrate the ancient Greek holidays? A quick google search makes me think his favorite would be the Anthesteria.

27.) Pick two songs that describe your character at two different points of their life, and explain why you chose them.

Soulmate by Natasha Bedingfield is a song that applies to him frequently, but in this case, applies to him after he left Aionios to go to college on the mainland. Not only was he lonely for companionship, but leaving home left him feel isolated and intensified the longing he felt to belong somewhere and, in some respect, belong with someone.

Your Song by Elton John. He uses what he's good at to show his affection, it's his way of involving people in his passion. He likely composed a song just for Anemone to dance when they were dating and sometimes he finds it easier to express himself through music than he does saying something to someone's face.

Red by Taylor Swift. It’s not actually for Anemone, but I feel like this is probably a good break up song for him because of the way she uses colors in the song. Tris thinks of emotions and certain sounds as specific color bands, so it makes sense to him. Lust and desire are candy apple red, but envy isn’t green, it’s a red/orange that looks burnt, it makes him think of chicken that’s been scorched and drowned in sauce, so for missing someone to feel like the grey of a cloudy sky before it rains sings true.

28.) If your character’s life was a genre, what would it be?

Lol, isn't it literally a Greek tragedy? It depends on how you section up his life, but I suppose right now it's a romantic tragedy. Exactly how it progresses is up to the roleplay.

29.) How does your character smell? Do they wear perfume or cologne?

I"m sure you want something other than 'he smells niiiiiice', so yes, he wears cologne and it's probably some woodsy scent that smells warm. I have no idea if that makes sense to anyone but me, I'm sorry.

30.) And finally: Write a letter to your character, from yourself.

Dear Tris,

You didn't want to make this very easy on me, did you? From the very beginning, you caused me trouble and I think I went through five names for you. First was Asher, but there was already an Asher, then there was also Kit and Isaac and I considered Adam, but I could hardly submit applications for Adam and Eve, now could I? So yes, you were difficult from the very beginning, but choosing you wasn't difficult at all because I've always liked your story and when I looked through the open characters, you were the first to pop out at me.

It's been so easy to learn more about you and there are small things about you that I'm stupidly fond of, like how much you like glitter and the rainbow, how gentle you are with animals, and how you just want to see the world shine. Your desire to be loved is a little sappy for me, I admit, but it's human and I can understand it. You want something more permanent than what you always have, you want to lose someone because they chose to divorce you instead of dying. You feel robbed and you're worried that you're stuck in a rut because all your incarnations start out the same way, you love someone and you lose them and you're starting to think you're cursed more than the others, that anyone you love is fated to die and that's terrible. You have so much love to give and it strangles you when you can't let it out, but isn't that better if your affection always steals someone else's life?

I hope you start looking again, I hope someone laughs and the light shines golden from their joy and you give love another chance because some creatures can't survive on their own and you're one of them. And I hope you start to focus on living again instead of just drifting through life waiting for the Titans to press the reset button because there's no reason why you shouldn't be able to have everything you want. You limit yourself, Tris, and you're too concerned with repeating the mistakes of your past to embrace the possibilities of a new day and realize just how much is out there when you stop holding back.

Stop playing reprises and play a new song, okay?

It's ridiculous how much I want you to heal when it's only been a week since I became aware of your skeleton, but that's who it presented you to be. Someone with a life of tragedy, someone that could make Hades weep and the devil rest, no one is immune to your song and I have enjoyed spending this past week getting to know you. Tomorrow, less than twenty-four hours from now, I get to find out if I can keep learning who you are and sharing this path with you and I have my fingers crossed because you have so much potential inside you.

I want the chance to touch more on your relationship with your mother and how some part of you holds on to old traditions, how you like to sit and watch the rain and the way you love the scent of the breeze off the water. There are so many shades inside each color and you are your own rainbow that covers the whole spectrum, so no matter what happens, I hope you get the chance to shine.

All my love, CL

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