kanekiyouloser

[tar-thelien]

Chapter five; Looking For Light In The Darkness

Summary:

Elrond and Elros gets picked up by Maglor who´s on the bridge of falling into complete insanity, Maedhros is tired of everything but let Maglor do as he wants and Erestor watched from as safe of a distance as he can.

Chapter notes:

Erestor shows Elrond and Elros around off camera, Maglor is rude, Maedhors tries, implied drunk character, hinted eating disorder.

words: 1410

AO3

“I don´t think Maglor eats. Normal food I mean,” Elros mumbled to Elrond who was busy fumbling around in the dresser Maglor had fitted with clothes for them after their breakfasts.

He had walked out of the room with lots of other clothes falling from his arms, forcing him to go multiple times to get all, both what was left in the dresser and on the floor. His sobbing had turned to the ugly wheezes of a drowning dog when they had left the dining room and hadn´t stopped for what both twins knew.

Elros had said something about them probably not being the first kids he had kidnapped since they now had a good portion of children's clothes in their own size or a bit bigger when he had left, closing the door behind him.

“His hands are really skinny… like some of the monsters from Ada´s stories. Hands like spiders. Vampire…” he said not really knowing what it was just that they drank blood and were evil. Maglor was evil too.

“Elrond…” Elros tried to roll the new name on his tongue, “Elrond what do you want to do? Do you want to go explore?? Maglor didn´t say we couldn´t, and if we get caught, we can just say Maglor forgot us or something-”

“Yes, about that,” Erestors voice cut in as Elros twisted with as much haste he could and a frightened expression on his face, Elrond had gone still, hands on an orange tunic.

“Timo told me what happened and that Kano probably wouldn´t be able to show you around, as he wanted to… so you wouldn´t get lost that is, so I said that I could do it for him.”

Elros stared at him before turning his bright eyes narrow with a snarl, “how many children did Kano steal before us, and how many did Timo, kill!?”

Both nicknames were spitted with so much hate that Erestor himself barely believed it to be two elflings in front of him and rather two wolves. One quiet waiting to attack and another lashing in its cage.

“Come little Narmo, and I´ll show you and your brother around,” he smiled as he held both hands out.

“We will escape soon, and then we will find the high king and tell him where you are so he can kill you all.” Elros spat, his fear only betrayed in the way his body trembled and his feets shuffled as if wanting to step back.

“Then I must show you around before you do, so it will be easier for you to escape, no?”

“Here is the kitchen and the door over there leads out to the bigger courtyard, now if we go out I can show you the stables and kennels, and maybe even the aviaries!”

Elrond nodded as he looked up at the smiling elf, he didn´t know what an aviary was, but he did know what stables and kennels were and he wouldn´t mind petting a dog or saying hallo to Thuretal, as long as the horse didn´t try to trip him down as he had seen it do with some of the soldiers, or again, anyone stupid enough to come close enough for it to happen that wasn´t Maglor or Maedhros.

“Then we can take some apples and seeds with us? And maybe there are a few bones the cooks won't need,” Erestor said happily as Elros frowned up at him.

“Why do we need seeds!?”

“Well… to feed the birds, that live in the aviaries, or maybe some of the other ones too if you want?”

“You have birds?” Elros exclaimed loudly and Elrond began tugging at Erestors sleeve with wide excited eyes, “I always wanted a bird! What kinds of birds do you have?”

Erestor chuckled at the twins' excitement as he slides himself between the working elvers in the big kitchen to find the food for the various animals.

“Well, we have falcons for hunting, the old two lords, Maedhros and Maglors youngest brothers, breed them, then we also have magpies, for sending messages and such, and a few chickens but they walk freely, except for the night where they´re let into the main stables.”

“We also have some goats and sheeps. They´re walking on the fields outside the fortress usually, and at night they´re leed into another stable closer to the gates than the one with the horses and chickens, that one also has a small garden with geese!”

“Do you have cats too!” Elros said as he helped his brother drag the other elf, for one blissful moment forgetting his rightful fear.

“Yes, they tend to be close to the kitchen, larder, and barns, as that´s where the mouses tend to be.”

Reaching the stable Elrond hurriedly ran forward to reach Thuretal but was stopped by an unfamiliar hand grasping his shoulder as he froze up in fear.

“Don´t trip little lord, wouldn´t do well to soil your fine clothes with all the dirt here,” a rough voice mumbled cheerfully as the unfamiliar elf in front of him kneeled down to reach the peredhels eye level, yet Elrond did all to avoid it, being reminded of the danger he and his brother was in.

“I´m afraid we had a bad start to the morning,” Erestor explained to the elf in front of him while quitting Elros´ angry screams with a hand in front of his mouth.

“I see,” the elf said as he stood up nodding, “another time then, my prince,” he said in goodbye bowing to a now slightly displeased frowning Erestor.

Elrond sat quietly at the dining table staring at Maglor from the corner of his eyes, they had eaten lunch with Erestor after an awkward few minutes in the stables with Elrond and Elros glued to each other's sides.

This time Erestor was eating with them.

The sound of forks and knives on plates and a crackling fire, chewing, drinking, and Maedhros sometimes slipping hand leaving an unpleasant screech that made Elrond wince occupied the room, the only soundlessness was coming from Maglor who mindlessly pushed his mashed potatoes back and forth on his plate, occasional sipping on his wine.

Elros was right, Elrond decided after a moment of debate with himself, Maglor had long and strong looking hands, but each joint poked out painfully, especially when they grabbed around his glass goblet. And he did only seem to drink, and the, maybe, wine was very red.

Looking up slowly at the bard´s round face he saw that the usually crooked smile he tended to wear was now vanished leaving empty eyes staring longingly, the same kind of longingly Naneth would stare at the sea when Ada was gone before she was enthralled by the shinning stone, at the wine bottle beside Maedhros.

The stone that shone like Maglor and Maedhros and some of their soldiers shone.

Maedhros growled slightly and all eyes on the table turned to look at him surprised, two with fright another with curiosity. Maglor just kept examining the bottle.

“Is there nothing you want to say Kano,” Maedhors said as softly as his fierce voice could, “how you were bored or what songs you played in your room? Maybe you even wrote something? Or another thing like that,” a note of desperation was added to the last bit but Maglor just kept on starring.

“... something to… your children maybe? Or maybe you should ask them what they did today?” Maedhros said, his voice now bleeding with desperation as he got a pleading look in his eyes, even as he saw both said children get tends with fear and Elros staring him down as discreetly as possible, so as not to anger him.

“They´re not my children, Timo, just as you said,” Maglor´s usually flowing voice was slurred as if his tung were too heavy, “give me the bottle.”

“Is there nothing you want to say?” Maedhros replied ignoring the words just spoken.

“Give me the bottle.”

Maedhros looked at his pitiful brother before grunting, “if you and the children are done eating, maybe you should put them to bed, as you want to be their Atto and that´s what fathers do, after that, I won´t mind sharing a glass with you.”

Huffing Maglor turned his dulled gaze to the twins looking at their mostly empty plates, “do you need more,” he hissed and both children hurried to shake their heads.

“Kano-” Maedhros warned.

[radar-of-minecraft]

Minecraft Items Challenge Attempt 2: The Adventure Update Part 3

We start the journey chucking some eyes of ender, sending me in the direction I explored for vines in the last post, I mined straight into the portal and almost burned to death. Now I see why eyes if ender point to the starting staircase of the stronghold.

I found apples in the stronghold altar chest, which is really lucky because leaves don't drop apples until 1.1

Anyways, welcome to The End:

I would love to show you something cool, but there was some king of glitch that stopped the dragon from damaging me, and not inflicting me with much knockback. Here's the dragon dying and me grabbing the Egg.

Time for a ridiculously long adventure in this Adventure Update, my goals are simple. Melons and mushroom islands. Here's dog that I never saw again despite standing it up.

Here's a mineshaft that I found by diving into a big surface cave, which I forgot to take a screenshot of, where I found melon seeds, and forgot to screenshot of, I had been sailing for almost 4 hours

About 10 hours of sailing later, I reached over 40km away from my base and decided to just look up a seed map, there is a mushroom island due East of my base, that I barely missed on my way to look for one

Here's the mushroom island. I was here for 20 seconds.

While waiting for my melons to grow, I found that if I stand in a certain place, my mob farm produces music disks, this means I won't need to build a dedicated music disk farm in 1.1 or the Pretty Scary Update

hey, my melons are growing, did you know that before 1.1, melons only grow on tilled land

while I was waiting for a second melon to grow, an enderman teleported into my room and gave me a grass block.

Apparently Glistering Melons used to be crafted with a single golden nugget, I think this was fixed when Golden Carrots get added in the Pretty Scary Update.

In this post I grabbed the Golden Apple, Apple, End Stone, Cracked Stone Bricks, Mossy Stone Bricks, Dragon Egg, Mycelium, Melon Seeds, Mushroom Block, Lily Pad, Glistering Melon, Melon Slice, and Melon. This completes The Adventure Update.

Up next is Full Release 1.1, which will be a few hours of grinding for music disks and not much else.

[theunderneath]

Hello, sorry i came out blue i was thinking make request long while but lot shit happen in life so I forgot what i wanted but I think request fluff scp doctors ( king, kondraki, R.gerald or agent dimitri arkdeyevich strelnikov.) being sick reader take care of them? Apologise for any error I wirte this on my phone.

Oh some new faces! Great, I love them. I know all of those guys so this should be a bit easy. I think all I need to do is read some shit about Strelnikov so I can get a better feel for him. I've already done Kondraki, soooooo-

--

Dr. Everett King

"I've made some soup! I tried to pick out all of the apple seeds but there might still be a few, sorry."

- When he gets sick he usually just calls out from work or just ignores it until it goes away. He really is just the normal dude cursed with apple seeds, he doesn't want to be sick on top of that. When his darling gets sick he mostly just treats them as they are, sick.

- He makes some soap out of the box. He makes sure you get enough water and sleep. He can cook, he just isn't some 5-star chef. He's a one to buy boxed meals and be perfectly happy with it. Since it's easy to cook with box meals than making them from scratch (Cause apple seeds EVERYWHERE)

- He honestly just gets a bit more stressed with his darling being sick. He tries not to show it since he doesn't like stressing out his darling himself. So he might just check in a little more than he should, making sure you're still alive.

Dr. R████████ J███ I█████ Gerald

"Uh-Sooo, the kitchen is on fire and I kinda broke the pot of soup. I'm just gonna order something if that's OK."

- When he’s sick, he hates life just a bit more. God has cursed him and he hates everyone except his darling in these moments. He just feels so sick and he can’t even cook for himself! When his darling is sick he just tries his best. Is just trying to make them feel better without dying.

- Dudes an awful cooks, everything that could go wrong goes wrong. He’s literally the one sitting in his own tears on the floor as everything blows up around him. He tries to make his darling food but it is trash, he just orders food for them at the end of the day.

- He gets so soft around a sick darling. They just look so helpless and all he wants to do is protect them until the hurt goes away. Expect to be spending a lot of time with this man. Too many cuddles are a thing and he will make it a reality.

Agent Dmitri Arkadeyevich Strelnikov

"I've made some porridge, take it."

- Like a true soldier, he overpowers any weakness he might have. In reality, he just powers through it and if anyone asks him if he’s sick, he kicks their ass for even suggesting an idea like that. He doesn't like to feel weak. When his darling gets sick he completely changes his attitude.

- He can cook, it’s just some weird stuff his darling has never heard of in your life but it still tastes good. He also will hand feed his darling so he can make sure his darling eats enough (To his liking at least, it’s definitely too much for a normal person).

- He definitely acts a lot sweeter when his darling is sick. He might be more of a test as well. He’s just like “Ha your feeble body can't take some weak ass virus, ha!” even though he’s probably the one that gave it to his darling since he wouldn’t admit he was sick. He also might be a little blunt, since he isn't great with being soft.

[hadtochangemyurlquick]

57 and 10 for shoni ?

Rules: Send me two (2) tropes from this list + a ship and I’ll describe how I’d combine them in the same story.

Forgotten First Meeting  & Airport/Travel AU 

so i've gotten a couple of anons bugging me about poet!toni so here is the beginning of an au i'm chewing around with. this is more actually an au of an au, as this won't actually be a scene in it, it was just me dicking around with the characters. Basically, shelby and toni play sisters in king lear and also toni's poetry is slowly driving shelby up a wall and has been since they first met in an airport and shelby robbed toni of her notebook but toni forgot she existed and shelby has hung onto the notebook ever since. The first poem is an original, the second is an excerpt from my girl adrienne rich. it's barely an airport au, anon i'm sorry, but suck my dick <3

It’s a little leather bound notebook, moleskin and only half full.

Toni Shalifoe!!

Don’t read!!!!!!

Email me here!!!! tshalifoe@zoobah.com

It’s something of a haiku, which is line with the first poem, also pretty intensely structured.

There is one apple left on the old apple tree

Fall

Winter

Spring

Summer

My golden color turns to brown

Bite by the squirrels chews me down

There is only a core

Left of me

On that old apple tree

But my seeds are planted

And I have left

A legacy

Shelby reads every single poem in there, disregarding the first entry begging her not to. The scrawl is childish but she thinks the girl must be old, middle school or something. She never shows her parents and she never emails to return the notebook.

It was in a Minnesota gate anyway, what was she gonna do, mail it?

The poems are odd, one is about climbing a mountain, another about the angel of death, a third about an apple tree. Shelby never quite gets them and she decides the writer doesn’t really either. Toni. Whoever she is.

She’s only a fourth grader and she’s not allowed to use a computer without parent permission anyway. So she doesn’t think about it.

Years pass.

King Lear is the worst Shakespeare play Woods could’ve chosen for the fall production. For one thing, it’s not a history like Richard is, so it won’t get cool and bloody. That wasn’t a problem for her but if they wanted guys to audition, blood and gore was necessary. It wasn’t a comedy like Twelfth Night nor was it famous like Midsummer, meaning audiences would be bored and ticket sales would go down. Again, not a problem for her but they were already operating a shoe string budget, ever since the football team got that new scoreboard.

Shelby wasn’t saying the football team didn’t deserve that scoreboard! Andrew might not have thrown a completed pass since the ninth grade but football was an important sport. They needed it.

The one thing that pissed Shelby off about King Lear was that it wasn’t a romance. Call her basic but she was a sucker for love stories. King Lear was just a tragedy about some king losing his throne. There was nothing interesting or important or applicable and she didn’t get how she was supposed to play Cordelia. Cordelia refused to say she loved her father, that was her whole thing. She was just a pretty girl who didn’t love her father.

“Shelby,” Woods said. “This is your sister, Goneril,”

Shelby looked up from the script to the antagonist, a short women with a furrowed brow. “Have we met?”

“I don’t think so,” Shelby held out her hand. “Shelby Goodkind. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Toni Shalifoe,” Toni Shalifoe said. She took Shelby’s hand and Shelby kept her expression clear, continuing to grin brightly at the girl’s who’s poems had haunted two years of her life. It had to be a different Toni. What were the chances?

“Toni here,” Woods clapped her shoulder, “Just moved from Minnesota.” Frick. “I thought maybe you could show her around.”

Shelby smiled wide. “I would love to.”

How did some random no one from nowhere become Goneril? One of the biggest parts in the show? That wasn’t fair to Cindy, who’d been auditioning every year! Probably because Toni was a senior or something, had to be it. Or maybe she’d been held back? Shelby had been so sure the writer was older than her.

“So,” Shelby said, once Woods walked away to harass the orchestra. “Do you like Texas?”

“Fuck no,” Toni said.

“It’s not that bad,” Shelby tried.

“Literally what’s to like?”

“Clearly you’ve never been to a dude ranch.”

Toni rolled her eyes. “Hard pass.”

“That wasn’t an invitation,” Shelby said.

“Thank god,” Toni said.

She sorted through her lines, brow furrowing again as she made notes and Shelby watched her, wondered if she was still brilliant. If she was the same age as Shelby, which she seemed to be, surely she still had to be writing right?

“At least we’re doing a decent play,” Toni said.

Shelby blinked at her. “You think King Lear is decent?”

“Duh,” Toni looked up. “It’s like—one of his best? C’mon, don’t tell me you don’t get it.”

“I guess I don’t get it,” Shelby said. “It’s just about some crazy king giving up his throne. Divine right to rule and like not democratic.”

“It’s about three daughters struggling to figure out what to do with their parent in his old age,” Toni said. “It’s about the sick and dying not being taken care of and being cheated by their kids.”

“Okay,” Shelby tried. “So?”

“So,” Toni said. “Eventually you’ll have to decide what to do with your parents. Whether to put them in a home or have them stay with you or whatever. They’re gonna get old and sick eventually.”

“I know that,” Shelby said.

“So why don’t you like King Lear?” Toni said. “Let me guess—you prefer Romeo and Juliet?”

“I’m a sucker for a good romance,” Shelby said. “Sue me.”

“Romeo and Juliet isn’t a romance, it’s a treatise on the importance of letting your kids be happy,” Toni said.

“What?”

“If Romeo’s parents had realized how deep heartbroken he was, or if Juliet’s parents realized she didn’t want to marry Paris, they both would’ve been and probably wouldn’t have fallen in love,” Toni said.

“Hold on,” Shelby said. “You’re saying the greatest love story ever told was actually teenage rebellion?”

“If that’s your greatest love story, I’m sorry for you,” Toni said.

Shelby got up and walked away.

Later, and she wasn’t proud of this, she realized Toni had left her bag behind. She knew it was Toni’s because she had to open it to find out who it was. And when she opened it she saw a little spiral notebook.

Property of: Toni Shalifoe

toni.shalifoe@gmail.com

Please email me if you find this.

There was no instruction not to read so…

I dreamed you were a poem,

I say, a poem I wanted to show to someone…

and I laugh and fall dreaming again

Of the desire to show you to everyone I love,

to move openly together

in the pull of gravity, which is not simple,

which carries the feathered grass a long way down the upbreathing air.

Shelby slammed the journal shut, shoved it in the backpack, and raced out of the auditorium. Hopefully, Toni would return for her own backpack.

[ask-the-barkerverse]

MLP Headcanon Dump

Just realized that I never bothered to post this on here. Heads up, this is a VERY long post.

Svengallop's parents are Charity Kindheart and Bracer Britches. The two had a brief affair, but never officially dated and Sven was an accident. Charity loved her son, but passed away due to illness when he was a teenager, so Sven was sent to live with his father who never wanted him. This has a lot to do with Svengallop's attitude as an adult.

All pure blooded draconequui are able to become pregnant or impregnate a partner, regardless of gender.

Wind Rider is a womanizer and serial adulterer with several illegitimate children, including Helia, Lighting Dust and Cloudy Daze among others.

There are some ponies who eat meat, such as fish, pork and chicken (eating beef and venison would be considered immoral since bovines and deer in Equestria are sentient). It's not particularly common and is actually considered gross by the majority, not unlike humans who eat insects. Equestria also has plenty of vegan alternatives that exist in our world, such as tofu and artificial meat.

The comic arc "Siege of the Crystal Empire" was actually just a fanfic written by Mina the dragon.

Tree Hugger is a member of the Hooffield Family. She ran away from home as a teen because she was sick of the constant fighting with the McColts. After running away she ended up joining a hippie commune, which is how she became the mare she is today.

Ocellus is the daughter of Queen Chrysalis. She will be queen of Thorax's hive after he is gone.

It is a tradition in Equestria for nurses to add 'heart' to the end of their names once they graduate nursing school. For example, Nurse Redheart's birth name is Redlove and Nurse Sweetheart is Sweetcream. This is in honor of Nurse Cureheart, the nurse credited for curing Celestia's broken heart after Luna's banishment.

The baby brother Hoops mentions in "The Cutie Mark Chronicles" is actually Spiral Notepad, who is now a trans filly.

Yaks speak Equestrian (aka English) so badly only because they have their own language and Equestrian is foreign to them.

The Kirin are thought to be the result of Asian unicorns interbreeding with dragons, but this has never been proven.

Derpy Hooves and Dinky Doo are mother and daughter, with Dinky having been born to Derpy when she was still in her teens. (I know it's an old headcanon, but I'll always have a soft spot for it.)

Quibble Pants is a natural blonde.

Derpy Hooves' real name is Ditzy Doo. "Derpy" was a childhood nickname that just kinda stuck.

Derpy has an eye condition called strabismus, hence the crooked eyes.

Crackle is a pseudodragon, a species of lizard that disguise themselves as dragons. Despite having twice as many limbs and gems growing out of them, they are accepted by dragons as one of their own.

Flash Sentry and Spearhead are brothers and are both descended from a pony that escaped the Crystal Empire during King Sombra's reign.

Sunset Shimmer and Sunburst are cousins.

Discord created Poison Joke.

Toe Tapper and Torch Song are the parents of Coco Pommel.

Hoity Toity is part mule, hence the long ears.

Celestia was born with an all-pink mane and tail and would have gained more shades of orange and yellow as she grew, but she instead gained hues of green and blue when she took over Luna's duty of raising the moon after Nightmare Moon's banishment.

Wind Sprint's original father died in a sports-related accident, which is why Clear Sky found comfort and common ground with Quibble Pants who was able to distract her from sports for a while. Unfortunately, as we all know from the episode, this had no effect on Wind Sprint's persistent love for sports.

Celestia was technically the first pony who managed to pull off a sonic rainboom, but it wasn't the same as Rainbow Dash's since she lacked the colors of a proper rainbow. Over time it was forgotten, but Celestia's "rainboom" was the basis of the sonic rainboom being a myth in the first place.

Pinkie Pie and Applejack's respective families are both descended from the children of Chancellor Puddinghead and Smart Cookie.

Orchard Blossom is an actual Apple family member that Big Mac was impersonating in "Brotherhooves Social".

Rainbow Blaze (the rainbow-maned stallion from "Games Ponies Play" who was confirmed is not Rainbow Dash's father) is Rainbow Dash's older brother.

The final alternate future seen in "The Cutie Remark-Part 2" where Equestria is nothing but an apocalyptic wasteland is a result of Daybreaker coming to life and burning everything to the ground into pure ash. It got so bad that it ultimately left Daybreaker with no kingdom to rule anymore. (As horrifying as it sounds, the dirt that Twilight and Starlight were standing on in that scene included the ashes of hundreds of dead ponies.)

Pear Butter and Bright Mac were killed by Timberwolves on a day trip. Sadly, Granny Smith considers herself responsible for this as she forgot to warn them about the Timberwolves that day. As a result, this is also why Applejack is so good at fighting them off.

Due to their godlike status, Celestia and Luna are the only immortal alicorns. Ordinary royalty like Twilight Sparkle, Cadance, and Flurry Heart have longer lifespans than normal ponies but can still die of old age.

Screwball is the daughter of Nurse Sweetheart and her eyes only become swirly when she's exposed to Poison Joke. The effect it has on her is that it makes her see weird stuff and she used to be addicted to it, but ended up quitting altogether as the last time she used it (around the time Discord returned) caused her to see some pretty nightmarish imagery.

The episode "Yakety Sax" was just a bad fever dream Pinkie Pie had after eating too much Yak cuisine one day.

All the changelings in Thorax's hive are siblings born from the same queen. Changelings do not interbreed with members of their own hive, though they may form family units with their siblings and adopt grubs to raise, hence the family of changelings Ocellus was seen with in "Hearths Warming Club".

Whoa Nelly's real name is Jelly Nelly Bean. Her large size is the result of a very rare pituitary disorder.

Fluttershy's human world counterpart is a vegan.

Aunt and Uncle Orange are both parental figures to Babs Seed. Whether they're her biological or adoptive parents in still unknown.

The hippocampus (aka the seaponies from the 2017 movie) once existed as a separate race, but are believed to have been driven to extinction because of the Sirens, who destroyed their homes, depleted their food sources, and even directly preyed on them. This was of course before Queen Novo fled into the sea and formed the seaponies we know from the 2017 movie.

Snap Shutter and Mane Allgood had Scootaloo later in life as they didn't really plan to have a foal, hence why they're such thoughtless parents.

Mane Allgood is actually a cousin of Daring Do.

Bulk Biceps is Featherweight's biological father. He was formerly married to an abusive, neglectful, and alcoholic wife, resulting in a divorce and Bulk and Featherweight moving to Ponyville and leaving her for good.

Cheese Sandwich is the younger brother of Marine Sandwich. The real reason he ran away from home and stumbled into Ponyville by chance is because he wanted to get away from his psychotic older sister. (Based off of this.)

Cheese Sandwich and Mudbriar are cousins.

Limestone Pie's talent is mixing drinks.

Burnt Oak is the father of the pony versions of Timber Spruce and Gloriosa Daisy.

Rumble is a trans colt.

Granny Smith's real name is Maria Ann Smith, or "Annie Smith" for short.

Fluttershy is the oldest of the Man Six, while Pinkie Pie is the youngest.

Trixie's full name is actually Bellatrix Lulamoon. She prefers to go by Trixie as it's easier to remember.

Tempest Shadow didn't receive her cutie mark until she was an adult, AFTER the events of the MLP movie where she started using her horn to make fireworks.

The draconequus were once a race of creatures that went to war against ponykind after their prince (aka Discord) was turned to stone. The war resulted in many of them being wiped out and it's currently unknown if any besides Discord still exist today.

Kirin shed and regrow their horns once a year, similar to deer antlers. Shed kirin horns make a powerful ingredient in potions.

[the-fae-folk]

“Come,” said the old Elf. “It seems that this is a time for remembering things.”

The boy drew close, eager as always to hear the stories of long ago. To hear of Old Faerie, the world as it once was. Upon a hill they sat, beneath the lonely tree. It was an old tree, but not as old as the Elf. His stories had been spinning since long before it was even a seed. He said that on that very hill had once grown an apple tree, where once a girl had mourned for her closest friend, where death had taken him as it comes to all humans. It was a long time ago, and the Lonely Tree was a descendant of the old Apple Tree that once watched over the pair. Every story is connected, even when it seems fragmented. “Tell me a story about the great courts, before the wars!” said the boy. The grandfatherly Elf smiled and stroked his beard. He was old, far older than most Fae. In the old days he was still youthful, though still old even by Faerie standards, and had seen for himself the wonders of that age. “It began in the court of the Neponada, the fire spirits, Salamanders. They were much like elfs in body, except they possessed eight arms and their flesh was much like stone with flashes of red heat shining from the cracks. Each member of the Neponada wore masks of gold, poured molten upon their face until it froze into a mask unique for each. Their palaces were atop the great volcanic craters, and were a place of fire and snow, ice and magma, ash and terrible beauty. “It was of the golden age of our people, before wars and destruction. Back then we knew no fear, no sorrows rested upon our shoulders. We were forever young and immortal, the rulers of our world. Oh I can remember those dances, elfs and pixies, goblins, trolls, salamanders, sylphs, undine of all kinds, greenmen and dryads of the trees, and thousands more. Every faerie creature you could possible imagine came, for why wouldn’t they? From every court, from every tribe. Galas, masquerades, parties, celebrations, festivals. It was all a never ending round of revelries. Our world was beautiful and perfect. Or so we believed.” And the old elf shook his head and signed. “It was our hubris that brought about our downfall in the end. Our terrible pride that planted the seeds of maleficence and hate. That day was the beginning of the end. We had come to celebrate the newest born of the Neponada royalty. But there were arguments. No one can remember how it started. It may have been the smallest thing, for small things are often more devastating than anyone could believe. But by the fourth day the celebrations had become the battleground for a silent war. It didn’t end there, our feuds grew and we fought and bickered at every turn. Cheating and bargaining, grabbing at what we wanted and teaching ourselves to lie despite our inability to physically do so. Hubris, avarice, wrath, lust, envy, gluttony, and sloth. We all indulged, sending our world spiraling into disorder. We took only what we wanted and left all around us to rot. Lord against lord, king against chieftain, queen against emperor. But the wars didn’t begin, not yet.” The boy, who had been listening all this time, tilted his head. “What started them?” “Ah my boy. That did to happen until someone tried to seize the First Crown. It is not to be worn, never to be worn. It was our first treasure, the oldest treasure. It can only be held for a short time, even by us. But he who bears it will rule all of Faerie while it rests in their hands. But we forgot, somehow, that the Crown was not some mere object to be claimed or stolen. The crown IS Faerie. Every darkness, every light. It is magic itself and more. And when the interlopers tried to lay their hands upon it, it vanished away, never to be seen again. From that moment on, nothing would save our beloved Faerie. Our world fell to chaos and destruction. We could not die, but that did not stop us from waging war, from spilling blood, from destroying everything we had ever known or loved. You see, my boy. Faerie is a pale shadow of all it used to be. We live in the ruins of our golden ages, in an apocalyptic wasteland of our own making. That is the fate of all who believe themselves to be perfect, who deny what lies before their very eyes. It has been millennia, eons. So long that the years number more than the stars in the sky and the grains of sand on the shore. We are wiser now, but the past cannot be changed. Only the future is left.”

the-fae-folk Ko-fi

[cynicalrainbows]

Inner Voice Chapter 2

I hope people enjoy this! Please drop me a line if you did, it means the world to me to hear what people think!

This chapter is plotless fluff because I will never tire of the queens taking care of Kitty in their own ways!

TW for negative thought spirals because Kitty is an Anxious Babey.

It plays on her mind the whole way home, as she makes the entire journey again in reverse- complete with two missed busses, one delayed train, one spilled latte, one woman blowing cigarette smoke in her face and one man hitting her in the shins with his briefcase all the way to Islington.

Is she manipulative?

Henry always said she was- and if it’s something that even the interviewer was able to pick up on….?

She hasn’t thought about Henry- intentionally- for a while: she deliberately blocks him from her mind when she can.

Now though, a seed of doubt takes root: was he right? 

Is there something fundamentally wrong with her?

She gets home late, refuses dinner. The others have already eaten- they’ve saved a plate for her and kept it warming in the oven but she has no appetite and she shakes her head when Jane asks if she’d like something else, disappearing to her room as soon as she can.

Dreams that she’d thought were over and done with keep her tossing restlessly all night, caught in the gulf between sleeping and waking when everything is a little unreal. She knows the stiff-stern faces of the courtroom and the smell of blood are just her own mind but she’s less sure about the feeling of a hand against her hair- caressing rather than grasping, for once. It’s not Anna’s hand, she knows, so it must be a dream.

(It’s still soothing though. She wouldn’t mind dreaming that again.)

When she rouses slightly near morning (the black shadows of her room are turning to grey), she’s mildly surprised to see that her covers are tucked snugly around her for once rather than kicked to the floor as they usually are after a nightmare.

It’s very strange.

She’d gone to bed the night before with her whole body aching and her head gently throbbing, but she’d set her alarm as usual, of course.

It doesn’t wake her though.

Instead, she’s been woken by the movement: a steaming mug of tea is set down on her bedside table.

‘Mmmmm?’

‘It’s only me, love’ Jane perches on the edge of the bed and reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair away from her face. ‘We thought you-’

Before she can finish, Kitty's eyes come to rest on her alarm clock and she sits bolt upright in bed, heart suddenly pounding.

 ‘Jane! It’s late- I’m late, I forgot to set the alarm, I’m so sorry-’

How could she have messed up like this? Was she such an idiot she couldn't be trusted to press a button? Henry would have said so, had he been asked. He’d never liked her for her mind, he’d made that clear, had even made a fuss in the early days of enjoying her innocence and naivety...later, as the glow wore off, what he’d first found endearing had come to irritate him more and more.

‘It’s alright!’ Jane gently presses her back against her pillows and hands her the mug of tea. It’s warmth is soothing. ‘It’s alright, don't worry, you didn't forget….we all thought you would need as much rest as you could get, after the week you've had, so I turned it off so you could have a bit longer.’ Her smile falters. ‘I’m sorry, I know it was terribly invasive but you just looked so weary last night-’

She feels a pang of guilt- for making Jane worry about her and now for making her feel bad for doing something nice. It’s not Jane’s fault- there’s no way Jane could know what being late for things meant for her.

(‘A disgrace….not fit to be queen….My punishment for allowing myself to be bewitched by some ignorant chit-’)

She takes a sip of the tea to drown out the words- it’s sweet, with cinnamon and honey, the way Jane always makes it, and it gives her something else to focus on, momentarily at least.

‘Won't we be late though?’

‘No, we should be fine, you’ve still got time to get ready- and ten minutes wont hurt just this once, even if we do get held up. No one will mind.’

The easy way Jane brushes it off is astounding- Henry had always been terribly impatient, huffing and tapping his foot even if she was early, reminding her that lateness was the ultimate mark of disrespect.

Jane doesn’t look at all worried about this, but then again, Jane would never have to worry about being thought rude. No one, she thinks, could ever claim that against the blonde queen- her soft smile is the antithesis of anything even slightly negative.

‘Ok- thank you for the tea.’

‘You’re welcome, love.’

It shouldn’t make her so happy, Jane calling her that- she knows it doesn’t mean anything at all, that Jane uses it with all the queens and is most likely only including Kitty to keep her from feeling left out.

(Still, it does. Make her happy, that is.)

Entering the kitchen, hair still wet from her hurried shower, she has to dodge around Catalina, who’s carrying a plate of Nutella toast. It smells wonderful and her stomach growls but she knows there's no time to make any for herself- she can make do with an apple from the fruit bowl if there are any left.

(It’s fine. She’s gone without food before. Sometimes- like last night- it’s been out of her own choice. Other times…..it hasn’t.)

Catalina sets the plate on the table but makes no move to sit down. Instead, she just stands there, looking expectantly at Kitty.

‘Go on, mija.’

She’s still perplexed and wonders if she's in the way, if Catalina wants something from the countertop behind her- but even when she jumps hurriedly to the side, mumbling an apology, the woman is still just looking at her.

‘It’ll go cold.’

‘What?’

Coming towards her, Catalina gently guides her into a kitchen chair (she resists the urge to flinch away and feels mildly proud of herself), then pushes the plate in front of her. 

‘Eat, mija.’

‘Oh no-’ She pushes the plate away as if it's red hot. This is not what she intended, she never wanted to guilt Catalina into giving away her own breakfast.

Why did she have to let herself stare at the woman’s food, of course that would make her feel uncomfortable-

(‘Trying to play the innocent, we all know what you’re doing-’)

 ‘It’s yours-’

Catalina laughs. ‘I made it for you, Kitty. Jane said you’d be coming down a bit late.’ She tilts her head, a teasing note in her voice. ‘You think I would willingly choose that sticky-sweet stuff for myself?’

It’s true, now she thinks about it- Catalina detests Nutella, has made clear her view that marmalade or plain butter are the only acceptable accompaniments to toast. Perhaps it really is for her- although why the queen would make her breakfast, she doesn't know. 

Unless…. She’d be lying if she said people had never done nice things for her, back in her old life. They did, Henry especially- gifts and favours, trinkets and gowns and jewels.

 The trouble was never the present, it always came after: she always managed to spoil things. She was never grateful enough, she never responded properly, she’d say the wrong thing or not notice quickly enough….there was always something.

(The ‘scenes’ were so frequent she even- once or twice- found herself wondering whether the gifts, the favours, the surprises were really secondary to him, whether what he really wanted was the chance to berate her for her selfishness and ingratitude. She knew that suspecting such a thing in her own husband- in the King, no less- was unforgivable- but still, little things- the glint in his eye, the flush of his cheek, the glow it gave him, the way it seemed to divert him from his pain like nothing else did- made her wonder, even as she condemned her own soul in the process.)

She wonders if Catalina is doing the same thing- although it’s somehow much harder to suspect it of the woman in front of her than it was to suspect it of Henry. Catalina is imposing and a little bit scary- but she’s also straightforward to the point of bluntness, her feelings always absolutely clear.

(She wonders if it makes her a bad person that she’s more suspicious of her own husband than of a near-stranger.)

Catalina’s still watching her, her expression softer than usual.

‘You can eat it, mija. Really. Everything is ok.’

There’s nothing at all insistant in the woman’s tone- she doesn’t sound cross, only the slightest bit sad- but Kitty doesn’t think she has it in her to outright refuse….and actually, she doesn’t really want to.

She is hungry.

She takes a bite; it’s heavenly, in the way that food only tastes when you’re starving.

‘Good?’

‘Perfect. Thank you, you really didn't have to go to the trouble-’

‘You need a proper breakfast after your long day yesterday.’ She shrugs. ‘It was no trouble at all.’

She sounds like she means it- indeed, she doesn't even wait for, let alone ask for, more thanks. 

‘I’m going to go make sure Cathy is still getting ready-’

She smiles at Kitty as she says it, as if it’s something they’re in on together, although Cathy’s ability to get sidetracked halfway through something is not exactly a secret- and it’s funny, how she says it- fondly, as if getting distracted is an endearing personality trait and not a mark of laziness.

(Even when she’s chiding Cathy for making them all late, she never sounds angry and Cathy- even when she sounds contrite- never sounds at all frightened.)

Although….Kitty supposes she can see the difference. Cathy, after all, never makes herself late on purpose- she’s just interested in too many things to keep her mind focused entirely on something as mundane as getting dressed or cleaning her teeth, and she always manages to make whatever she’s been distracted by sound like the most fascinating thing in the world, at least to Kitty. 

There’s something nice about how happy and excited Cathy looks when she’s explaining something she’s interested in- all shiny eyed- that makes Kitty feel all warm and special that Cathy is including her in it rather than keeping all the interest just for herself, although of course she knows it’s nothing at all to do with her. She knows Cathy only explains things to her because she can’t not tell anybody and everybody, and because she doesn’t actually know yet that Kitty isn’t clever enough to be worth telling things to.

(‘There’s no point in explaining anything to you- as if you’d understand anyway, it would be a waste of my time-’)

If she did know, Kitty’s sure she wouldn’t bother.

The thought makes her feel a little bit sad. 

(She hopes Cathy doesn’t find out any time soon.)

Her thoughts are interrupted by Anne popping her head around the door, dropping her pink tote in the doorway- ‘Here, Kitkat-’ and then vanishing again.

(Anne always calls her Kitkat- she never responds to or draws attention to the nickname in any way because she’s very much afraid Anne will stop if she does.)

When she picks the bag up so she can pack it, she finds it’s unusually heavy- her things have been gathered for her, her rehearsal clothes (that she was lamenting not having had time to wash) are folded into a neat bundle and smell freshly-laundered, of Anne’s fancy detergent that she buys online and won’t let anyone else use. Her pink water bottle is full, an unfamiliar tupperware holds a sandwich and some cherry tomatoes. There are carrot sticks- peeled and cut evenly, an apple, a cereal bar.

It’s funny, considering Anne frequently forgets to do her own laundry, that she’s rarely seen Anne’s own lunch consist of anything other than leftovers. Sometimes she forgets it all together and just subsists on snacks from the vending machine.

(Kitty occasionally suspects Anne of forgetting on purpose since she usually announces her ‘slip of the mind’ with a beaming smile and once stuck her tongue out triumphantly at Cathy when she caught her looking longingly at Anne’s pack of Oreos.)

She wants to call Anne back, to apologise for making her go to so much extra trouble for her, to promise that she wasn’t being lazy on purpose, that she was just too tired last night to be able to contemplate laundry or making lunch but that she never expected anyone else to have to step in….but it’s too late.

(She hopes Anne isn’t too annoyed at the extra work. She probably is.)

Anna is the last one to the car, rubbing sleep from her eyes and finger combing her short hair into place, and Kitty feels her shoulders sink in relief as Anna climbs into the back next to her.

It’s not that she doesn’t like the others, it’s not even that there’s anything wrong, she just….feels better when Anna is there.

Like she can breathe more easily.

(It’s always been like that. She once asked Anna if the air was different in Richmond because it was so far away from London, since she never felt her chest getting tight and her throat closing up on her when she visited. Anna had told her that Richmond Palace was still London, that actually, they weren’t far from court at all. For some reason, she’d looked terribly sad.)

‘Morning, Kitty- did you sleep well?’

She nods, breathing in Anna’s comforting shampoo-body-spray-leather-jacket smell.

‘I had the weirdest dream, I-’ She breaks off, clipping her seatbelt into place and leaning forward to jab Anne in the shoulder. ‘Anne, listen, I had the weirdest dream about you-’

‘Ow! That fucking hurt!’

‘Listen though, you were in my dream-’

‘Oh my god, you’re such a stalker-’

‘Shut up, just listen, we were at this park, right and there was this man-’

Kitty leans back in her seat and listens to them bicker and laugh, as Cathy fiddles with the radio dial and Jane reminds them all to put on their seatbelts (‘We are not leaving until everybody has- Catalina, if you pull out as I’m saying it, then it just defeats the purpose-’ ‘Look, as long as Kitty and Cathy are strapped in, it’s fine- Anne and Anna can take their chances as far as I’m concerned-’ ‘Hey!’), as Catalina mutters darkly in Spanish at the other cars on the road.

‘- and he was that man from the news, with the moustache, and you kept running up to him and telling him he needed to hurry because it was nearly Christmas-’

‘This had better get really weird really fast or it’s the most boring dream ever-’

‘Shut up, you made me listen to that whole dream about you just being in the Tesco queue-’

She likes listening to Anne and Anna usually- they’re fast and funny and cutting in a way she could never be- but it makes her sad too.

Anne is her cousin after all.

She doesn’t join in. She doesn’t even know how she’d join in.

She leans back and listens to them spar and wishes she could make Anne laugh that hard.

[tspultradeluxe]

In my genius I forgot that dr king doesnt produce apple seeds himself

[wordywarriorwrites]

Chapter 14: Vortex

Masterlist: The Boss of Brooklyn  A03 Story Link Author: @wordywarriorwrites Summary: When it comes to being The Boss, James Buchanan “JB” Barnes rules with an iron fist. For him, there’s no room for sentiment, and certainly no time for distraction, even if it is in the form of an old flame. Steve Rogers had bowed out of the life a long time ago, but a twist of fate brings him right back into the fold, and face-to-face with a man he once loved. When a game of cat and mouse turns into a matter of life and death, both will be forced to decide whether they’ll be loyal to the business, or faithful to each other. A/N: Bucky Barnes Mob Boss AU. Stucky. For: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan Star’s Multi-Fandom Follower Celebration with the prompt, “Why did you do it?” & @sherrybaby14 Sherry’s Fall Into You Challenge with the prompt, “Show me. Prove that you can handle me.” Warnings: Language, violence, drug use, alcohol, smoking, explicit sexual content, illegal activities. *Re-blogs are welcome. Plagiarism isn’t. *

The McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas. Glaring Cirque du Soleil posters, cheesy merchandise, overpriced grub, and soul-sucking slot machines.

Steve didn’t really much care for all the bells, whistles, and neon lights, but since he hadn’t quite decided where he was headed to next, he parked his ass at a bar, and ordered a drink. And when it was gone? Well, it didn’t take long for the bartender to pour him another. And another. And another.

The Families’ forefathers had never had a problem executing traitors. Theirs was very much a world of talk-shit, get hit, and people who stepped out of line were either put in their place or sent to their grave. Many generations had come and gone, but things hadn’t changed that much; there were some things that could not be ignored or forgiven, and they still dispensed brutal, bloody justice.

Nick had truly believed he possessed more than enough power and authority to guarantee nobody on his team would ever go rogue. He’d had a solid, profitable game going, but he wasn’t complacent, and he sure as hell wasn’t stupid. Maria may have had other people do the dirty work for her, but Fury would’ve eventually seen past the subterfuge, and the end result would’ve been the same.

All Steve did was make it happen sooner, rather than later.

Somewhere after shot number five – that’s when it dawned on him. None of it mattered anymore. Fury wanted to retire anyway, so, he’d walk, take his fortune with him, and more than likely collect on an annual finder’s fee from the Families. Since they didn’t like to waste talent or opportunities, the business and rest of the crew would probably be absorbed, and given Natasha’s propensity for turning shit piles into gold, she’d probably be sent in to run things.

At the end of shot number six, he realized something even more groundbreaking – he was truly free. For the first time in his adult life, he didn’t have to answer to anyone, and could do what he wanted. He could stop running and hiding, vacate his seat with the Families, and finally get out for good.

“Drinking to victory or drowning your sorrows?”

Steve groaned and sat his tumbler down, “How did you find me?”

Natasha perched on the stool beside him, “You forgot to toss your phone after you called Thor.”

He sighed, retrieved his cell from his pocket, and took out the battery. Steve also removed the memory card and snapped it in half.

“What do you want?” he muttered.

“You need to come back with me,” she said quietly.  

“No, I don’t.”

“This isn’t a request, Steve -- it’s an order.”

“I don’t take orders from you. And I don’t take orders from him, either.”  

Natasha attempted to argue her case, but he didn’t listen. Instead, Steve hailed the bartender, and asked for his bill. He put enough cash down to cover the tab and a generous tip, but before he could get to his feet, she placed a hand on his forearm, and held tight.

“Let go of me,” he bit out warningly. “Or I’ll break your fucking hand.”

“Hey, that’s no way to talk to a lady.”

As soon as he heard Sam’s voice, Steve closed his eyes, and forced himself to count backward from ten. He should’ve known Natasha would bring backup for the ambush. Steve considered trying to make a run for it, but he couldn’t escape them without causing a scene, and the booze he’d dumped down his gullet had made him a tad unsteady on his feet.

For the next five hours, Steve remained miserably sandwiched between. When they landed in Brooklyn, Bruce was there to pick them up, but whatever happened after the show got on the road was a complete blank. He must’ve either fallen asleep or simply passed out, because when he came to, he was no longer in the car, and had no clue where he’d ended up.

The only thing Steve knew when he woke was that he was still a little drunk, a lot pissed off, and whoever put him to bed had taken the trouble to undress him and cover him with a sheet. A clock on the nightstand revealed it was almost ten in the morning, and though Steve wanted nothing more than to roll over and go back to sleep, he was hungry, and reeked of booze. The combination made him queasy, which prompted him to hobble out of bed, and weave his way to the adjacent bathroom.

An overhead light kicked on automatically, and when he entered, he found his clothes, which had been washed, primly folded, and stacked in neat a pile on the left side of the sink’s oversized countertop. Lined up in a row on the opposite side were a fresh towel, a packet of Tylenol, a bottle of water, a new toothbrush, and a box of toothpaste. After he utilized the facilities and the hangover kit, Steve fired up the hot water, and stepped into the shower stall.

On a recessed shelf beneath the showerhead was a bottle of shampoo and an unused bar of soap. As soon as the fog lifted a bit, he set about getting cleaned up, and when the scents of Oribe Signature and Côte d'Azur filled the air, he knew precisely where he was.

He finished up quickly, and as he dried off and got dressed, Steve clocked it all. The Sauvage cologne tucked behind a box of tissues; a rolled-up wad of what had to be at least five-grand in the medicine cabinet; the fully-loaded nine-millimeter behind the toilet tank; a switch blade hidden in a basket of haircare product; an interconnected walk-in closet filled to the brim with posh labels, custom tailoring, and an alarming amount of shoes.

Heady, menacing, and rich as fucking Croesus – yeah, he was in the King’s castle all right, and His Majesty was using the trappings and authority of his position to fuck with his head.  

Instead of waiting to be summoned, he headed back toward the bedroom, and out into the hall. He made it all of three steps when he heard Bucky’s voice, and the low-timbered tone was hard-edged and steadily rising in volume. When Steve entered the living area, he found Natasha typing furiously on a laptop, and the reason for her strained expression was revealed when Bucky began bellowing at the top of his lungs.

“Don’t give me that shit!” he roared. “You do what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it!”

Steve rolled his eyes and headed to the kitchen. Situated in the middle of the island was a bowl of apples, and after he snagged one, he took it to the sink to wash it. Bucky carried on with his tirade, never once paused for breath, and it wasn’t until Steve took a seat at the counter that Bucky even realized he’d entered the room.

Even though the man was still busy ranting, Steve knew he was the one who had his full attention. Bucky had always had a bit of a knife kink, and he’d been using a paring blade to cut away pieces of the fruit, and eating the slices directly off the steel. When there was nothing left but the core and seeds, Steve opened his mouth, and very carefully dragged the knife from bolster to spine slowly along his tongue.

“Stop it,” Bucky barked curtly.

Steve jutted his chin, “Or what?”

Any challenge issued could not be ignored, and he did what Steve predicted he’d do; he hung up on whoever he’d been shouting at, and stalked toward him. Bucky tried to intimidate him by crowding him, but he didn’t balk; he simply quirked an eyebrow and waited for him to make a move.

Crisp, white dress shirt strained against heavy muscle; haphazard tie; disheveled hair; eyes bright and a little too wild. It would’ve been easy to assume Bucky was either strung out or about to take a swing, but the lust-blown gaze, flushed cheeks, and damp brow suggested he had something else on his mind.

If they were alone, Bucky would have tried climbed him like a fucking tree, and he knew it.

Steve vividly recalled the last time they’d gone at each other’s throats, and while Bucky was looking for a repeat, Steve wasn’t. He was trying to get out, not drawn back in, and there was just too much history, bad blood, and unresolved hostility between them. Behind the passion was a lot of underlying rage and ugliness; it had been left to fester like an unattended wound, and sex – no matter how mind-blowing – wasn’t going to heal it.

“Boss,” Natasha called out from the living room. “We don’t have time for this.”

Much to his relief, the subtle reminder was all it took for Bucky to come to his senses, dial it down, and take a step back. He ordered Natasha to finish making transportation and flight arrangements before he spun on a heel and headed toward his bedroom. A few moments later, the door slammed, and the sound made Natasha flinch.

“Is this what you dragged me back here for?” Steve wondered.

She walked into the kitchen and plopped down on the stool beside him, “They’ve negotiated Fury’s golden parachute, but there’s a problem.”

He nodded and crossed his arms over his chest, “Go on.”

“Scott, Carol, and Rhodey are skittish and don’t want an outsider running things. And even though they were all cleared of any wrongdoing, the Families refuse to let them promote from within.”

Steve didn’t need to hear anymore, because he knew very well where the conversation was headed, and what the Families wanted him to do. In order to keep their profit shares and maintain control, they needed someone to not only settle the waters, but also steer the ship.

It didn’t matter what he wanted – they were going to pull him back in and never let him go...

Natasha sighed and got to her feet, “They’re are flying out to today, and they expect you to be there to attend the meet and sign the paperwork.”

She didn’t wait for him to acquiesce or argue; she just handed him a cellphone and told him his boarding pass and itinerary were on it. When he brought to the screen to life and checked the destination, he couldn’t help but snort, because he now knew where he was headed to next.

Steve was being forced to go back to where it all began…

He was going back to Bermuda.

Chapter 15: Imperfect Union

Everything: @jennmurawski13​ @nerdy-bookworm-1998​

Steve Rogers: @patzammit @hearttoearth​ The Boss of Brooklyn: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @captain-rogers-beard

[tgai-spock]

Lines of ice from rolling waves and subtle villains

Silly stomaches on speechless mornings

Chapter 3

His father was up for breakfast the morning Spock came out of his bedroom. They had a large house on vulcan, and a small apartment in the town of  san fransico because of his fathers close work with earth, and because his mother often liked to visit Earth at least 4 times a year. She couldn’t bare the heat a lot, and if she was to go out on vulcan she usually did when the sun was rising or setting. It seemed peculiar to Spock as he often ignored warnings and would walk into the middle of vulcan’s forge during the heat of  the day. Amanda always said she loved vulcan, but she enjoyed spending a week or two occasionally on earth, to explore, visit friends and family, and stock up on her favourite foods or seeds.

Today there was a pit in his stomach that meditation didn’t seem to quell. His new school was not near any vulcan desert that he could sprint into, where people would eventually give up following. What if he wanted to be alone? He needed to be alone. Although meditation didn’t keep the pit away Spock instead reminded himself that he wasn't going to be at school long, as he’d find a way to leave. Whether it was with his parents permission, or without. He put his suitcase by the front door and walked over to the breakfast table of plomeek soup. It was his favourite soup.

“This is an unusual meal to have for breakfast” Sarek commented.

“It’s Spock’s last one, possibly for the year” Amanda said “and I thought he might appreciate it.” Spock nods his head once, he wants to say yes, he wants to say thank you, but he feared that each word he could say in front of his father might not correspond to the strictest set of logic, and this early in the morning was a time well before his rebellious attitude had a chance to wake. Amanda said nothing, put a hand on Spock’s wrist and smiled before going back to her breakfast. After breakfast Sarek removed the bowls from the table and began to wash them.

“Okay it's time to get going” Amanda said standing up and she and Spock moved towards the door.

“Goodbye son” Sarek said not looking up from his washing. Spock put on his shiny silver hat.

“Bye” he said walking out the door.

Amanda walked with him towards the school, she wanted to be with him for as long as possible.

“Why don’t I just live in the flat on earth and live off take out for a whole year?” Spock asked.

“Spock. Are you really going to wear that hat on your first day of school?” Amanda asked.

“I’ve already put it on” Spock said, he was growing very illogical of it.

“If you fancy spending half term in the flat, I could see that, but at least phone and let me know first. You’ll be safe in the school and thats where I want you to stay.” They stopped outside the school where the roads were packed with traffic, hover busses, hover cars and a few ships flying overhead. Amanda dutifully placed a kiss on Spock’s forehead.

“Good luck, and if you run into any trouble, if anyone says anything even slightly to you, phone me right away.” Amanda said. 

“Okay” Spock gave up “what am I to define as mean?”

“Anything that can be describe with the sound ‘phobic’ like xenophic.” Amanda said, both her hands on his shoulders.

“Claustrophobic.” Spock said.

“You’re doing it on purpose now. Go on, I love you,” Amanda said and pushed him off to follow the multiple signs placed around the outside of the school. The signs read ‘this way first years’. Several students of a higher year, wearing lanyards and ‘helper’ tags pointed and pushed the scurrying first years to the far end of the building. Spock was led to towards an area with a number of wooden picnic tables, where trees were growing apples along the side of the building, and a final arrow pointed to a propped open double door, inside of which were a lot of tables and chairs. The last sign read ‘take a seat in here’. Incase he couldn’t read there were more elder years with badges that said ‘prefect’ pointing them into the building.

The first years were all bundled into a huge cafeteria, mixed with square and rectangular tables, with wooden chairs placed around them. At the very end of the room, was a stage, with an empty podium and microphone. People streamed in from every angle, yelling and tumbling. Spock needed to sit at a table. He needed to do it fast, he needed to choose, square or rectangle. His immediate thought was square, but he didn’t want to be stuck sitting next to just 1 or 2 other people. If that happened he might be expected to make conversation, or he’d come off as rude. The more people at the table, the less likely they were to talk to him, right? He found an empty rectangular table that could fit six people along the sides,  and two at the edge if you really wanted to push your luck. He chose a seat along the side, at the edge. He pulled out his phone, and began to chew it, and then immediately stopped. He didn’t know what had compelled him to chew it, but he had caught himself hopefully before anyone else saw. He turned it on and off. He wanted to looked at his phone, but he didn’t want to do anything on it. Someone pulled out the chair at end of the table, which was next to him.

“Hello” they said sitting at the end of the table.

“Hi” Spock said. They had sharp angular features, a rectangular chin with a small dib, large round ears, and brown hair, cut in a shape of a bowl, with several escaping curls. They, also had a sticky label stuck to the centre of their chest which read ‘they/them’ underlined.

“Nice hat” they said.

“Oh.” Spock said, he had completely forgot he was wearing it “thanks. Erm, nice… pronouns.”

“Yah? Pretty neat right? No ones going to misgender me this year if I make it clear from the start, right?”

“That makes sense. I’m Spock, whats your name?” Spock said coming off as far friendlier than he intended.

“I’m” they pursed their lips and squinted.

“I’m? Spock asks wondering if that’s their name.

“Hold on I forgot my name.” They say.

“You forgot your own name?” Spock asked with his eyebrows raised, not that they could be seen beneath his hat.

“I had a dead name, and I chose a better name but lots of kids made fun of me for it, so I thought with this school I’d go in fresh with a new name since it wasn’t legal anyway.”

“Okay” Spock said, what they had said did make sense to him, he just found the concept of forgetting a name, chosen or not to be bizarre.

“You got to help me choose a new one, quick.” They said desperately placing their hands on the table in front of them.

“What?! I am sorry I cannot help you choose a new name. We have only just met” Spock said he really didn’t know what to do now. While this human was attempting friendly conversation, Spock had never had a conversation like this, at all. On vulcan if something was a personal matter, it stayed personal.

“I’m just nervous!” They said in a panic, as two others took a seat on the opposite side of the table. One girl with long blonde hair and a large squashed black mole on her chin, and a boy with spiked blond hair.

“Hey I’m Becky” the girl said with a long drawn out southern accent, and she places a hand on the boy next to her “and this is Jim.”

“Hi” Jim said with a slight tilt of his head and a tiny smile on the corner of his cheek “nice hat.” Was that sarcasm or not? 

“Thanks.”

“Whats your name?” He asks.

“Spock.”

“I’m” they said in a rush to introduce themself “I’m Moriarty?” 

“Moriarty? Thats a neat name” Jim says his eye lighting up.

Moriarty sweated “it sure is.” Spock was uncertain if Moriarty was their chosen name as he still didn’t seem very certain of it. There was still a scuffle going on at the other side of the hall, as though the doors had somehow become blocked and hundreds of people were trying to get indoors.

“Take a seat please” one adult yelled, or possibly a tall prefect. At the the other end near the stage’s podium was a man. His eyes searching the room from left to right, taking note.

“I’m going to start by saying it” Becky said almost yelling to be heard over the rumble of noise made from movement, and someones screaming “I don’t believe in magic, when I told my parents I wanted to go here because they ran a course on magic, I was under the impression they were going to teach me to be a  professional magician.”

“A magician you say? Did you know the first travelling magicians came from russia?” Moriarty asked leaning forwards.

“No. Thats cool.” Becky said.

“Can you do any tricks?”Moriarty asked. Becky took out a pile of her cards and shuffled them.

“Pick a card, and then put it back” she said leaning over to Moriarty. Mortality picked out an ace of spades, showed it to Spock and placed it back. Becky shuffled the cards and pulled out a king.

“Is this your card?” Becky asked.

“No” Moriarty said. Spock frowned his mouth opening slightly. He’d only been here a few moments but he already didn’t know what he was witnessing. Becky shuffled the cards and pulled out the two of hearts.

“What about this?” Becky asked.

“No.” Moriarty said grinning.

“So you agree I need professional training to be a magician?” Becky asked, her eyes reaching across the table to milk the words from him.

“I mean” Moriarty said nodding his head to the side “I guess.”

“Were any of you guys under the false assumption you were going to train to be a magician?” Becky asked “because I can’t be the only one who made that mistake.”

“I was not” Jim said “but, magic’s totally going to be a bonus of this shit-fest, gonna get a real nice kip in that lesson.”

“I didn’t choose magic” Moriarty said “they have really good science courses here, and I wanted to use them to get into starfleet.” Becky gasped and she went to say something but stopped when the man on the stage at the end of the room tapped a microphone.

“Ladies, gentleman, in-betweens and others, please quiet down, it’s time to begin.”

[Chapter 1]         [Chapter 2]       [Chapter 4]

[avicebro]

Perseus: In Myth and in Fate

Hello everyone, I’m tired, we’re gonna talk about Perseus.

This is actually going to be a combination fate meta post and Greek Myth post which is you know, amazing, but that’s because Perseus was the reason as to why I got into Fate, and thus I feel like he deserves this. So, buckle up. I think that should explain my biases pretty well.

Probably the Weirdest Way Zeus Fucks a Woman

Like many Greek Myths, the story of Perseus starts with a prophecy.

Perseus’ grandfather, Acrisius, is the king of Argos. Since he likes being King, he goes to the Oracle for his future. The Oracle breaks the news that he’s going to be killed by his daughter’s son. Instead of pulling a King Laius and driving a metal rod through the kid’s feet and then leaving him on a mountain to die (that’s where Oedipus’ name comes from by the by), he decides that the way he’s going to not have a grandson is by making sure his daughter, Danae, can’t get knocked up at all.

He does this by imprisoning Danae in a bronze chamber open to the skies (in some versions it’s a tower, some a hole in the ground with a grate, it’s just gotta be open to the sky). There. No one can get in.

But unfortunately for King Acrisius he forgot about the whole “Zeus” thing so when Zeus sees this lovely woman in a bronze box/tower he’s head over heels in love with her. And again, since he’s one for theatrics, he makes the smart decision to turn into a shower of golden coins and rain down on her.

Danae becomes pregnant because of a golden shower.

Since divine seed (or coins?) must take root, Danae becomes pregnant with Zeus’ child.

Nine months after Perseus is born.

So, since the first box thing didn’t work, King Acrisius decides to put his daughter and her newborn son into another box (or more specifically a wooden chest) and put it out into the sea. Danae prays to her baby daddy so that they survive, and since Hera doesn’t seem to mind Perseus for some weird reason, they safely arrive on their new island of Serifos, where they are taken in by a fisherman.

Polydectes is a Dick

The fisherman’s brother, the King of Serifos, is Polydectes. When Perseus is grown up, Polydectes finds himself falling for Danae. Perseus isn’t very fond of this creep trying to take his mother, and she doesn’t seem to be very fond of him either, so he tells Polydectes to back off. Polydectes doesn’t take this very seriously so once more Perseus tells him to back off, no dating his mom you creep. This makes Polydectes mad. He might also be too afraid to fight Perseus 1v1 so he makes a plan to get rid of him instead.

He hosts a banquet and tells everyone to bring a horse as the gift. Perseus has no horse to give, so he says that his gift is whatever Polydectes asks of him.

(Side note: Polydectes should have just asked him to die. Nice and simple.)

Instead he asks for Perseus to bring back the head of Medusa, the youngest and also mortal Gorgon sister.

(Side note: Youngest = strongest in Greek Myths. Both Zeus and his father Cronos were the youngest children. It makes a little more sense as a story stand point for Zeus [His mom tired of her husband eating her kids at the 6th one] but with the two Kings of the Cosmos being the youngest child cemented this rule of the youngest being the strongest in Greek Myth. This of course has no relation to Hesiod’s hatred of his brother. None at all.)

Medusa has gotten a little bit of a celebrity status as being unkillable, as whomever looks at her turns to stone. This doesn’t seem to bother Perseus very much – he’s gotta make sure Polydectes doesn’t creep more on his mom, and he is the son of Zeus, after all.

The Killing of the Gorgon

Thankfully he’s got another god on his side: Athena. Yeah, I guess turning Medusa into a gorgon for something she had no control over wasn’t enough punishment. Athena wants her dead now.

So, Athena sends Perseus to the Hesperides, the nymphs who tend over Hera’s garden and also hold the fancy weapons he can use to kill Medusa. For those who know anything about Heracles he ends up convincing Atlas to go and fetch some of the golden apples for him from the Hesperides. But Perseus doesn’t know where that is so following Athena’s advice he finds the Graeae sisters.

The Graeae sisters are three old hags who share only one eye. They are also all-seeing.

(Side note: they’re also the sisters of the gorgons! Thanks sisters.)

Perseus grabs the eye and basically holds it for ransom in return for the whereabouts of the Hesperides. Since they can’t really do anything they say fine, sure, okay here’s where it is, can you give us our eye back?

(Side note: for anyone who has seen the Disney Hercules, the Graeae are kind of retrofitted with The Fates. I’m not saying that I necessarily agree with this decision, but I do understand it. It should be noted that in Greek Myth only one of The Fates actually was an old lady, because only one was associated with cutting the thread of life. But three old ladies who act independently of the gods’ will and make dated references are kind of my trash. Disney Hercules despite its shortcomings has become my trash.)

The Hesperides give him a bag, to hold Medusa’s head, Zeus an adamantine sword and Hades’ helm of darkness. Adding to the list of gods that wanted to kill Medusa and or help Perseus grows as Hermes gives him his winged sandals to borrow, and Athena gives him a polished shield. So, the list of gods that are helping Perseus are: Athena, Zeus, maybe Hera, Hermes, and likely Hades doesn’t hate him because Zeus was somehow able to get his brother’s helm for him to use. The only god that probably likes Medusa still is Poseidon. Probably out of pity.

(Side note: Adamantine! For those who have read Hesiod’s Theogony know that Cronos’ cool as fuck sickle is made out of adamantine. Oh, and also the shackles that bound Prometheus to the rock. And in some versions the walls that Alexander the Great builds? It’s an unbreakable metal basically.)

Now armed with a bunch of OP items, he heads out to kill Medusa. With the polished shield he is able to kill her without looking into her eyes. He beheads her, wraps her head up in the bag so he’s fine. From her neck springs her children with Poseidon: one king named Chrysaor and of course, the well-known Pegasus.

(Side note: Pegasus would eventually team up with another son of Poseidon to do their own story.)

Perseus’ New Bae

On the way back to Polydectes, he stops in Aethiopia (Ethiopia). There he finds a very pretty woman tied to a rock.

Like an idiot, the queen of Aethiopia, Cassiopeia, made the claim that her daughter Andromeda was prettier than the Nereids. The Nereids are basically a bunch of sea nymphs who are close with Poseidon. In response, Poseidon sends out a giant sea monster and floods. Now stuck with a sea serpent and way too much water, they go to the Oracle to find a solution. The Oracle says that Poseidon will only be appeased if they sacrifice Andromeda to the sea serpent, Ceto.

Perseus finds Andromeda strapped to the rock as sacrifice and decides that he likes her so he kills Ceto (depending on the version by the sword or by Medusa’s head). Despite being betrothed to another guy, he claims her as his bride. When the guy that she was supposed to marry interrupted the marriage, Perseus uses Medusa’s head to turn him into stone. He does that a lot.

He returns to find that his mom has been running away from Polydectes, because again, he’s a dick. So, Perseus finds him, uses Medusa’s head on him to turn him to stone, and makes his brother king instead. This works out because Danae actually liked this fisherman and so she becomes queen in some variants.

There’s a small myth in which as he was travelling some of Medusa’s blood ends up dropping onto the desert and creating a new species of killer snakes, too.

Fulfilling the Prophecy

About that prophecy.

There are three versions of how Perseus ends up killing his grandfather. The first two include being hit in the head during sports.

The first version has him not returning to Argos but to Larissa, where some games are being held and also it just happens that King Acrisius is visiting said games. Perseus shows up and is testing out his new sport he just invented (which is basically just a fancy form of the game of horseshoe) when Acrisius steps in the way and is killed.

The second has him returning to Argos, but when Acrisius hears that his grandson is returning, he goes into exile. Perseus just happens to be in the place where he was exiled to participate in funeral games. During the discus throw, it ends up hitting Acrisius, and he dies.

The third has Acrisius’ brother, Proetus, exiling his father. When Perseus returns to Argos, he finds out about the exile and as such turns his great-uncle to stone to ascend his grandfather back to the throne. Then when he’s now the King of Argos again, Acrisius accuses him of not actually killing Medusa. So, sighing, Perseus turns him to stone and fulfills the prophecy.

Nevertheless, through manslaughter or through actual murder, killing is still killing, and as such he must be exiled and cannot be the King of Argos. He takes the son of Proetus and King of Tiryns and gives him Argos. In return Perseus becomes King of Tiryns.

(Side note: this is all to prove the ideas of manslaughter and also exile in Ancient Greece. Technically, Perseus should have been exiled and then purified like Oedipus does, maybe even killed. Even more so, the son of Proetus should have killed Perseus. Well.)

He gives Medusa’s head to Athena, and she puts it on her now famous shield, the Aegis. Because cursing, then helping in her murder wasn’t enough. Thanks, Athena.

King of Mycenae

Perseus finds and founds Mycenae. As such, he’s considered to be a historical character. Perseus and Andromeda would end up being strong rulers, fortifying their kingdom and having a whole bunch of kids (7 sons and 2 daughters. I feel for Andromeda).

He actually ends up being killed by the son of Proetus, after a successful and fruitful rule. Perseus, Andromeda, and her mother Cassiopeia would end up in the stars by the gift of Athena.

These kids would end up really spreading out but the descendants to note are: Heracles, Penelope and as such Telemachus, and of course—Pollux and Castor! See I’ll tie everything to my namesake.

What Fate Did

Now we can talk about the things that fate changed. Most of the changes are what happened with Medusa. Not a surprise to anyone, the rape of Medusa has been retrofitted to Athena being jealous of her and that is why she turns her into a Gorgon. She then, in an attempt to protect her sisters, becomes more and more monstrous, until she can no longer return back. When she ends up killing her sisters and Perseus arrives with his items, she accepts her death.

Perseus, when he arrives on the island, is filled with this feeling of unease and uncertainty. He does not feel like a hero and wishes to simply kill Medusa and leave. He has regret when he kills Medusa. He finds no glory or fame in the act as it is really tricking her.

Medusa says that she does hate Perseus, calling him a brat and a successful Shinji and hating the fact that he was the one that killed her.

Perseus is the Rider in Fate/Prototype. He is specifically summoned by Aro Isemi because he wanted a hero who had a happy ending. His master has been kept alive simply to summon a servant and to be tested on. He’s only with his master for a couple of days. Before he dies, he gives him all of his command seals so that he can continue to live without him. When he dies, Perseus gets revenge by killing those who tested on him. He then becomes a master, thrusting himself into the war so that he can bring Aro Isemi back to life. Oh, and he also decides to become a student at Ayaka’s school because he’s bored or something.

Ultimately the OVA is really about Ayaka’s relationship with Arthur, and it acts to set up the love… triangle? Square? I mean there’s like 4 guys after Ayaka…Pentagram? Despite this, he does have two scenes in the script: one where he defeats Caster to save Ayaka when they launch an attack on their school, and one where he faces off with Saber.

Saber accuses him of being a murderer, as he’s being killing civilians, since he needs their mana to stay in this world. He then says he’ll punish his master, but Perseus reveals that he doesn’t have a master to punish. Saber accuses him of having killed his own master. They engage in battle, Rider almost kills Ayaka before pulling away, and then Saber helps her escape.

Nasu in the notes talks about him briefly, saying that he’s someone who gets obsessed with something to the point that it takes over him. He must give the task 110%. He also says that he’s a kind-hearted soul and puts more emphasis on the fact that he’s a hero who had a happy ending.

Let’s Get This out of the Way

When discussing Perseus in fate, the one thing that comes up time and time again is that Perseus is bad because he kills Medusa. This is not something new in fate—I’ve seen it for fans of many characters. Some characters thankfully get more characterization by fans than just “x killed y” (Like Ishtar for example). Others, like Perseus or more commonly Fionn, are mostly characterized by having killed a more popular character.

(Side note: I am in no way saying that what Fionn did to Diarmuid is okay! But again, his relationship and his dynamic with Diarmuid is what makes him interesting in America. I digress.)

By simply characterizing these characters by whoever they killed, and ignoring what they do in their respective series, it is doing a disservice to them. Especially in a series where characters may have to interact with those they killed, or are trying to repent or rebuild an old relationship with them. I am in no way trying to act high and mighty—if you want to see hypocrisy in action just go through my Avicebron tag and you’ll see me hating on him for killing Roche or even just my dislike for Jason because of Medea—but the claim that Perseus should not be in Fate/Grand Order, despite having a design, voice actor and my room lines from other servants, is silly. I want Jason in Fate/Grand Order because I want to see the relationship with him and the rest of the Argonauts outside of Okeanos and some interludes.

Like imagine if Achilles was only discussed for having killed Hector. That would erase everything he’s done in Apocrypha.

(Again, not saying that murdering these people are okay! What happens with Penthesilea is interesting and I like hearing each side’s view on it.)

What makes fate so interesting for me is that these characters who are tied by fate are given a second chance. We get to see old foes pitted against each other brought together by the throne’s cruel game. This is what makes fate grand order especially interesting—characters who murdered or betrayed each other being forced to work together. Do they despise each other and refuse to work together? Are they, like Hector and Achilles, too tired to fight anymore and as such just pull tiny pranks on each other? Do they try to rekindle their old relationship? Is it even possible for things to go back to before the catalytic event? This is what is interesting for me.

We have two compelling characters at the hands of the gods and fate pitted against each other. Medusa, the monster hated by the gods, versus Perseus, the hero who is just being used as a pawn to get rid of her. One is being remembered as a famed hero while the other as a disgusting beast. Through Heaven’s Feel and Hollow Ataraxia, and ultimately through Medusa’s eyes, we get a subversion of this.

“A Successful Shinji”

Oh boy, Shinji Matou. I won’t say that everyone hates him, and there are certainly are some Shinjis in canon that aren’t… that bad. At the same time, I won’t say that he’s a fan favourite by a long shot.

Designs in fate (at least the earlier spin-offs, whether or not this is true for fate/grand order depends on your own opinion) often tie back to other characters in the series. When Okeanos came out people pointed out that Jason’s design is reminiscent of Gilgamesh. By having a character look like another it makes one already have opinions about them. Like how you are to tie Jason with being a self-absorbed leader who probably doesn’t treat women well, by having Perseus’ design be reminiscent of Shinji’s, you are to make your own conclusions.

The main design aspect that’s brought up is the hair. Which I never got but I guess their hair is roughly the same length and is wavy? I guess when he’s in his school outfit he looks like Shinji? I guess? I don’t know maybe I’m blind.

The biggest comparison between the two is Medusa’s line in Hollow Ataraxia, where she sums him up as a “successful Shinji.”

I could go into a discussion about whether or not we should believe this claim, but instead of boring you I want to instead talk about what Medusa, and ultimately Nasu, is trying to say by calling Perseus a successful Shinji. If Perseus is Shinji, then he should be an envious, manipulative abuser who hurts those he has an advantage over. He should be trying to get approval from those he looks up to. He should be feeling as if he needs to prove something and that any bad that happens to him is not because of him, but because of someone else.

However, we don’t really see these aspects in Perseus’ character. Sure, he has this feeling that he has to prove himself, but he is a flawed Greek hero, needing to prove that he is the son of Zeus. But he is also doing this to help his mother. Depending on the version he can kill multiple people, but in some he only kills the person who was terrorizing his mother and the one he was prophesized to kill. Depending on the version, he is simply a man fighting with fate.

In prototype, we see a more complex character. He is compelled by his love for his master that he is willing to become this human killing monster who goes against everything Saber stands for. If he was truly a Shinji, then he would be doing this not for revenge, but for his own gain. He does use his advantages to try and kill Ayaka but can’t find it in himself to do so. He saves her at one point. He does not act like the self-absorbed, envious and prideful brat that Medusa characterizes him to be. Maybe his anger is bratty—but his anger out of revenge is understandable in order to bring his master back. What I’m saying is that if he truly was a Shinji, he would be doing this less for Aro Isemi, and more for himself.

Then here’s the question: why are there two versions of this Perseus? Through two series Nasu is telling us two different things about his character.

My Answer

I have a possible answer. We have an older design for Perseus, from Hollow Ataraxia. I propose that there are two Perseus servants in the canon. Rider Perseus, the flawed and conflicted hero who wrestles with his murders and his fall from grace as a hero as seen in Prototype. The one that fights for revenge on his master’s treatment. Then, a Lancer Perseus, one that exemplifies the modern view of a Greek Hero, with the cocky, Shinji-like personality. The one that Medusa and the world associates with Perseus, and the real Perseus.

Both versions of Perseus are needed in fate. Lancer Perseus acts as the cocky character some people adore, while Rider provides a realistic view. I would personally love for both to appear in Grand Order—but certainly Rider Perseus provides a more complex version of the character. He, along with Heracles, provides a more realistic view of what characterizes “The Greek Hero” and how interpretation has diverted them from their more realistic and fate-driven narratives.

I included his myth to show that he is more than just the killing of Medusa. He has to wrangle with a lot—and even more when he is summoned in Prototype. And I want to see how he and Medusa and her variants (we know from game files that Gorgon hates him) interact. One person’s dislike for him because of their own biases removes the possibility of growth and deeper deconstruction of Medusa.

I’m going to end this by reminding you all about why Perseus goes on his mission in the first place. For his mother. I refuse to believe that if, by chance, Perseus was Shinji’s servant, the two of them would have been best friends. Rather, he would have taken one look at what was happening and be hit with deja-vu.

Anyways Perseus better show up in Lostbelt.

Thank you for reading! Please come talk to me about fate I’m bored and lonely.

If you would like to read the Prototype notes, you can do so here. If you would like to watch Medusa explain her backstory and thus the story of Perseus, you can do so here. Thanks have a nice day.

[alexmorrall]

The Emerald Seer

Chapter One

 Kaelyn woke to an empty bed, cool with morning dew. She rolled over, spraying a puff of sawdust from her mattress. Water flicked off her nose and soaked her blanket. It bled through cracks in her walls from the drip of trees above. A small price to pay for each day to begin with birdsong. Amaris was nowhere to be found. She couldn’t sleep like Kaelyn could, even wet and cold. An arrow thudded into a strawman outside. She bolted up, remembering this was her first Harvest Feast since turning sixteen. It was the last day of summer, and knights would arrive soon to pass judgment.

When her feet touched the dirt floor, she shivered. Something furry passed over her ankles. Straining her eyes, she saw Whiskerwinks dart back into the pantry. This time she rode five miles to Cyan Lake with the mouse, borrowing a horse from Remy’s stable. Leaving him in the forest, she said a solemn goodbye. Yet here he was, nibbling on bread and cheese once more. Kaelyn crossed their one room house to the pantry. Giving it a good kick, she hoped he’d come out easy. When he did not, she sighed and stepped outside.

Amaris brought an arrow to her ear. Both girls had green eyes, but little more in common. Kaelyn’s hair was silver and often tangled where her sister’s locked in red braids. Ami’s never got in the way when she swung an axe or shot a bow. Kaelyn’s was often caked in mud. Releasing the string, Ami’s arrow pierced the strawman’s heart. She knocked another arrow to her longbow, the weapon as tall as she was. Taking aim, lines in her muscles showed. Kaelyn had never seen a woman so strong. Her second arrow slid into straw beside the first.

“Enjoying the show?” Amaris gave her a wry look.

“I love to watch you shoot,” Kaelyn approached her sister.

“Too close,” Amaris brushed her away and took aim again.

“Did I break your concentration? In battle you won’t be so lucky.” Then Amaris turned, aiming the bow at Kaelyn’s feet. The girl jumped away. “Ami!”

“Want to take some shots? It’s time you hit the mark. Today could be your lucky day.”

“You know I can’t even pull the string...”

“I won’t always be here, Kae. When the knights come, what will you do?”

“They’ll not take me,” Kaelyn gave Amaris a long look. “I wouldn’t last a day in the mines. But you’d make them a fortune... I can see why you practice.”

“They won’t need to take me.”

“How come?”

“They just won’t, that’s why,” Amaris snapped. “Now, your garden looks like a weed bed. At this rate you’ll be selling dandelions this season.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

Kaelyn went about her chores. She plucked weeds from her flower and vegetable beds, removed deadheads, and checked for mold. Then she brought a bucket to the town well. Remy’s villagers came for water to wash and cook for the feast. Listening to some women, she heard Lord Ryndale hired a new knight named Godfrey. He was said to be crueler than most and drank Karnath dry in one night. Hearing this, the local tavern owner Gascoyne abruptly left line. Waddling back to the Suckling Pig, he rolled his casks safely into the cellar.

It took Kaelyn an hour to fill her bucket, then she barely got back to the house without spilling half. Amaris was still shooting strawmen.

“Do you expect an army to come up out of the hills?” Kaelyn wondered.

“No, but perhaps some knights, a few rebels or if I’m lucky… Garzians.”

“You’ll take ‘em all on yourself, eh?”

“They’re just men, and they can be killed.”

“Can’t believe you’re working today of all days. You know the knights could kill you for dodging judgement.”

“Someone’s got to.”

“Well, don’t be late for the shift that kills you,” Kaelyn sucked air between her teeth, face going scarlet. She stalked away, grabbing a copy of Wilderwood Beasts and Legends on her way out the front door.

“Mornin’, Kae,” called Luc. The old man with blue eyes and skin like worn leather, stacked wood outside her door. Her house stood in the shadow of Edgewood Lumbermill. Luc helped them build their house, with wood gathered by Amaris and the other foresters. When Amaris turned sixteen, she asked to sign up for the war. She planned on marching west to kill the Bandit King. Hearing this, Luc adopted both sisters the same day. They were only with him a year, as Amaris was desperate to live under her own roof. Kaelyn could’ve stayed longer.

“Morning, Luc,” she waved. “Wonderful day for Harvest Feast, isn’t it?”

“Oh, it’ll be a beaut’,” he nodded and grinned, going back to his stacking.

Kaelyn turned north, taking the main cart road. It wound for half a mile before leading to a meadow of bloodred poppies. As sun smiled down, she basked in Daphne’s grace. Finding her way to the river that curled around the Fairy Tree, she reclined on its bank. Warm light washed over, as fish looked up, bubbles rising to the surface. A breeze passed through the old oak, and sometimes it whispered to her. Soft, kind words eased her mind. It was a needed escape from villagers who called her “ragamuffin” and “witch” for her silver hair. It made her look old, and sometimes she felt it.

When she looked at the Fairy Tree, she thought of the Wilderwood. Its ancient groves grew tall as the sky. The Fairy Tree was much younger, but Luc told her it grew from a Wilderwood seed blown east on the wind. This made it a holy relic, and none would cut it down. Its branches spread like powerful arms to either side. Sometimes Kaelyn pressed her nose against its bark, hoping it would give her a hug. Ami had not given her one in so long. The trees, and the river, and the fish never looked at her with scorn. It was here her thoughts could wander in peace. When she cracked open her book, she found herself in the Wilderwood.

Kaelyn returned home at midday to break her fast. With a yelp, she remembered Harvest Feast was in full swing. In her excitement to leave the house, she donned a crown of daylilies but forgot to eat anything. Racing to Remy Square, a basket swung from her fingers, filled with blossoms and apples. Her pace slowed as people blocked her path. They wore their Daphne’s Day best: brightly colored tunics and dresses, hair braided or slicked with grease. Seeing Kaelyn, covered head to toe in mud, they let her pass. Slipping through, she avoided their glares, approaching the main event.

Arriving in Remy Square, Kaelyn delighted in the smells and sights of harvest’s bounty. The aroma watered her mouth and rumbled her stomach. Noise and light warmed the Suckling Pig. Gascoyne roasting a boar on the common, its flesh sizzling over hungry flames. Every man, woman, and child lined up for his famous pork, two if patience held. Children watched him cut, moving dutifully forward in line. Gascoyne handed one boy a wine-braised rib, his eyes turning big as apples. He tousled the boy’s hair, smearing it with grease, and called, “Next ‘un up!”

Nearly every villager of Remy filled the square, sauce spackling their faces. They drank ale, mulled wine, and mead, ate fresh bread with black jellies and buttery cheeses. Mashed turnips, glazed carrots, and buttered onions slipped from plates into mouths. Kaelyn offered flowers and fruit to those who had no meat and looked as poor as she. Most were too proud to accept charity, least of all from her. They slapped her offerings away. Most often her hands and hair were dirty, and today was no exception.

A mother steered her children away. “That girl’s mad,” she said, “Sleeps too much in the woods. Fairies addled her brain. Stay away now.”

Moving on, she found a hungry-looking child who might be more receptive. She offered her an apple and the girl took it, but her father’s face soured. “Oi, that’s Luc’s waif, ain’t it? Always said they live too close to th’ woods. That’s where demons’ll get ye. Drop the apple, lass. Leave it fer the worms.”

The girl dropped the apple and Kaelyn picked it back up. As they left, a dull ache throbbed in her head. It wasn’t just hunger. She wished she could tell these people they were wrong. Her brains weren’t addled, and she had no demons. Nowhere was the goddess closer than in the peaceful woods. So many forgot her way, claiming the gods turned their backs on the world. They’d never listen. None thought it wise for the sisters to live by themselves. Most were jealous they’d been taken in by Luc, the richest man in town.

Hands clapped, lutes strummed and proud songs of Larasu rose on their lips. She tapped her foot to the music and began to dance. As she moved, she caught the eyes of Laran, who also kept his distance. Wine and ale flowed like rivers, and the day passed in a haze. Villagers chose to numb their fears by singing songs of the rangers. Misha the Mouse, Sir Cadmus Featherstroke, Sheon the Silver Lady, Grian the Giantslayer, and Bloodless Barric, the Lion of Larasu. Most were still alive, yet many had begun to despise the rangers. Still, the songs were sung, and though few sought to join their ranks, many praised their deeds.

Amaris loved these songs, and never had she missed a feast day. All year the sisters looked forward to Gascoyne’s pork, Olson’s White Delcins, and the songs of Harvest Feast. More than enjoyment, Kaelyn wanted her sister here for what was to come. Soon knights would arrive for judgement. Any who failed to appear in Remy Square could be punished with death. Kaelyn would stand for judgement as she turned sixteen. It brought another jab to her belly, and she looked at the line for boar.

Last year they took children to work the Karnath Mines. Small bodies fit into tunnels and little fingers could repair tools. Few lived to twenty anyways. Their parents were paid, and the children got food and lodging for winter. Even if they came back whole, they were never the same. Their hands were claws, eyes creased, and backs bent. Light faded from eyes, and skin turned ashen gray. Just from looking, you could tell if someone had been taken, or Daphne forbid, taken more than once.

Kaelyn noticed the six robed men who inspected Remy’s three carts of grain. Stable boys hitched the collectors’ carts to horses. Each year ‘standard cartful’ seemed to grow a little larger. Going easy on them this year, the collectors climbed aboard their carts. They rolled from Remy Square, heading west back to Raven’s Hill, leaving a trail of grain. Any who went to gather the grain were bludgeoned by Remy’s bounders. Each winter a child died of hunger, and Kaelyn gave their family some flowers. These were rarely rejected.

“Line up!” bellowed Chief Olson, slamming a club on his shield. He was in a poor temper, as he usually was. Wearing leather armor, and a bronze badge of office, he and his men enforced Ryndale’s laws whenever possible. This was their proudest event of the year. With a twinkle in his blue eyes, he bellowed, “Judgement time.”

The crowd turned quiet, songs trailed off, and Gascoyne doused his cookfire. “Welp, fun’s over,” he announced. “Join me at the Pig if ye’ve seen one too many o’ these traditions.” Lumping the half-eaten boar over his shoulder, he carried it away. Most of the villagers over thirty years shuffled after him. They were exempt from being taken and refused to watch their children’s judgement.

Bounders slammed clubs on shields, barking at Remy’s younger villagers to form a line. A couple bounders were Kaelyn’s age, exempt from judgement due to their service. Under the hail of shouts, Remy’s men and women, boys and girls, age sixteen to thirty moved forward. Kaelyn joined them, pulling hair over her eyes, and smearing mud on her smock. She had no finer clothes, nor did she want to look pretty this day.

A thunder of hooves filled their ears. In years’ past, it gave Kaelyn chills. Now, it made her stomach turn in a knot. Three men in scalemail armor appeared on the cart road. A large man with a yellow mustache led the way. Dismounting before Saint Remy’s statue, a boy brought them ale. Under his helm, the mustache did little to cover pockmarks and scars that riddled his face. He gulped from a jug and dropped it to crack on the ground. The boy knelt to pick up the pieces. Heat welled in Kaelyn’s chest, despising this man already.

“I present you with Sir Godfrey,” said the bounder. “A knight from Annandale, newly entered into our lord’s service. He’s been honored with the passing of judgment this year.”

Godfrey growled, spittle flying from his cheeks as he advanced on Kaelyn and the others. Ripping off gloves, he revealed hands as rough as boulders. His mustache must have itched because it bristled as he looked them over. Kaelyn stifled a giggle, trying to ease her fear. When his roving eyes looked for her laugh, she was too short to be seen.

“First order of business: Lord Ryndale needs soldiers to keep the rebels at bay. Men, step forward,” his voice scraped like hooks on gravel. They advanced, some flexing or making fists. Godfrey walked the line, observing them in turn. “I see none. You’d not make it to sixteen in Annandale.” The men frowned, looking to each other and the ground. “You’re free to go. Blessed by your meekness. But if I see one of you at the Pig, you’d better buy me a drink.” A few men nodded and saluted. “Get out of my sight.” Most walked home or found spots to watch the finale, while a few marched to the Suckling Pig.

Godfrey paced before the women and girls now. They stood straight and tall, forgetting to breathe. Kaelyn slouched, breath catching in her throat. She was Remy’s youngest prospect, and under the dirt her face was smooth, free of blemishes. In childhood she rarely suffered flux, sweats, or pox. Most orphans were not so fortunate, and their faces bore the scars. Smearing dirt from her hair onto her face, she looked to the knight.

“Not sure how you put up with those men,” Godfrey chuckled, shaking his head. “Now ladies, I see some of you in gold or silver, trying to look your prettiest. If you’re wearing fine metals or stones leave them at the foot of Saint Remy. Then you may go.” To Kaelyn’s surprise, a handful of women came forward. She never knew such riches existed in Remy. Not that she owned any that may have helped her.

“Now,” his tone brightened. “I’ve an exciting announcement. Lord Ryndale seeks a new handmaid. All girls older than twenty may be dismissed.”

This left six girls and Kaelyn was one of them. Four of them were from good families. They trembled, tears filling their eyes. Next to her was a fellow orphan, Kendra. Raven hair fell to her shoulders and she wore a deerskin jacket and breeches. A dagger rested on each hip. Last time Kaelyn saw her, she’d been sixteen, of an age to leave the orphanage. Departing Remy, she went out into the wilderness and no one knew where she’d been the past four years. Now she returned on judgement day.

Though Kaelyn was called strange by many in town, Kendra was considered far stranger. Like Kaelyn, she suffered little in childhood. Her skin was pale as snow, from years in the orphanage library. While Kaelyn read much, she did so under the sun, listening to birds and squirrels. Kendra took to dark, cramped places, ones filled with spiders. She slept some nights in the orphanage attic, where she emerged covered in cobwebs, wasps buzzing in her hair. Not once was she caught for stealing books, though Kaelyn knew she had them. Abbot Arden deemed her the perfect disciple of Daphne and lamented her leaving town.

Godfrey marched down the row of girls. With each step, blood beat in Kaelyn’s ears. Finally, he came to stand before her and Kendra. Looking both over, he stroked his mustache.

“You,” Godfrey said, pointing at Kendra, “you’ll join me at the Pig. We’ve much to discuss.”

Kaelyn let out a breath she’d been holding for weeks. In the corner of her eye, she swore Kendra smiled. As villagers resumed festivities, she sprinted from Remy Square.

[sussex-nature-lover]

Thursday 5th November 2020

Remember, Remember...

♦ if you click on a bold link it will navigate away from this blog to an outside site. Outside sites are not affiliated to this blog

In my book the most important things to remember on (and around) the 5th November are wildlife, domestic pets and safety first.

Our hedgehog population is in severe decline and they’re well known for crawling into what they think is going to be a safe space for a long nap. Hedgehogs who are the right weight have also probably gone into hibernation with the recent very cold snap.  It’s possible something might be hibernating within your bonfire pile if you’ve been stacking for a while ahead of lighting it.

Please, please do check thoroughly.

Fireworks are a very stressful event for animals, bear this in mind always and act responsibly. Advice from last year here.

My mobile phone vintage snap at dusk - the Stand Off

OK, lecture over.

Last night we drove by Ms NW the Elder’s, only the fourth time we’ve seen her this year: we had one nice lunch together back in January and two no touching socially distanced chats. This one was about 20 minutes stood in the street at a safe distance from her doorstep. In the short time we were there we saw a bat fly around several times and the local fox trot across the close. For anyone who doesn’t know, she’s in South East London but in a quiet road where she’s becoming more and more interested in the local bird and wildlife population. On the way we knew we were getting close when we heard Parakeets chattering away. We saw two large skeins of Geese flying as well and actually heard more on the way home. Funnily enough they heard Geese in the dark on Autumnwatch last night too.

On the drive back we got snarled in the ridiculous traffic that got mentions in the national press, so it took around two and a half hours to come less than 50 miles. According to some reports that was getting off lightly.

Culinary Note: we ended up having beans on toast for supper as it was something quick and we were both ravenous. Added a couple of drops of Tabasco to the beans which made them just the right amount of spicy and used pumpkin seed bread. Not quite haute cuisine but very tasty and welcome.

 At least there were some pretty fireworks to watch along the route - not huge amounts but some of them were quite spectacular lighting up the skies. As an aside, despite the huge moon, it did seem particularly dark last night. It was crisp and clear too, very cold. I saw Mars shining very clearly when we got home.

When I was little we had a tiny box of  Standard fireworks to light at home. A few candle type, some Catherine Wheels, a packet of sparklers (my personal highlight) and a rocket or two. It was usually something of a damp squib to be honest and there were often failures to light - very dangerous. I preferred the baked potato, sausages and beans on a chilly night.

By the time we had our own children things had moved on tremendously and we wouldn’t dream of getting fireworks for home, it was always the community bonfire and big organised display. I used to love those nights. We’d get all dressed up with our woolly hats, gloves and scarves and everyone from school seemed to go. All the neighbours set off for the local field around the same time, so you’d meet up walking along and once arrived there’d be candy floss and toffee apples and so on. There were hot dogs and burgers too I think, but we’d have our traditional supper beforehand, it’d help insulate us against the November night air. The bonfire was huge and stringent safety precautions were in place before the fireworks were let off. At the end there was a gentle procession home again amongst the excited children scuffling through the fallen leaves and sleepy tots in buggies. I’ve just read this out to my OH and he agrees how good it was. It was very well run and always pleasant company. What lovely memories.

“Remember, remember the Fifth of November” or “Please to Remember” are variations of a rhyme that commemorates the day in 1605 when a group of Roman Catholics including Guy Fawkes, were caught in the act of trying to blow up the Houses of Parliament.

When news of the plot got out, Londoners were so relieved that the conspirators had been caught that they lit bonfires throughout the city as a celebration. Over the centuries the celebrations have become more elaborate and now fabulous firework displays are a feature throughout England on the night of November 5th. A week or so prior to that, children make effigies of Guy Fawkes which they take door to door asking for ‘A penny for the Guy’.’ On Bonfire Night these Guys are traditionally burnt on top of a bonfire.

Funnily I’ve never known more than the first two lines of the old nursery rhyme

Remember, remember the Fifth of November, The Gunpowder Treason and Plot, I know of no reason Why the Gunpowder Treason Should ever be forgot. Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, t’was his intent To blow up the King and Parli’ment. Three-score barrels of powder below To prove old England’s overthrow; By God’s providence he was catch’d With a dark lantern and burning match. Holla boys, Holla boys, let the bells ring. Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King! And what should we do with him? Burn him!

Two things link up here for me. Firstly by sheer chance the National Trust property Chastleton, which I’ve only mentioned this week, was purchased from Robert Catesby, the leading figure behind the Gunpowder Plot.

That’s a fascinating read in the link, from a local newspaper. I can’t get my head around the intrigue, the danger and the money involved. It’s also a little bit spooky that the plot was originally intended for action the previous year, but was delayed because The Plague caused Parliament to be closed. 

Plague was one of the hazards of life in Britain from its dramatic appearance in 1348 with the Black Death. The Bills of Mortality began to be published regularly in 1603, in which year 33,347 deaths were recorded from plague. Between then and 1665, only four years had no recorded cases.

Secondly, is the matter of organised bonfire celebrations and Bonfire Societies. We’d never come across one until we moved to Sussex, where they are ‘a thing’ around the South East. I don’t know if they’re a thing further afield? Perhaps someone can enlighten me Boom Boom!!! <Pun Claxon> if they are.* see below for details

Back to Bonfire Societies, we’re not all that far from Battle, it’s where our ‘local’ police station is, although you wouldn’t want to walk it! and yes, it is that ‘Battel’ of 1066 and Hastings fame. In fact the local tourist organisation calls the area 1066 Country.

Fun Fact for your Zoom quizzes or how ever you’re going to be amusing yourselves: The Battle of Hastings wasn’t fought at Hastings. It was fought at ... BATTLE. Maybe they thought no one would take it all that seriously if they’d named it the Battle of Battle(Battel) 

The Battle of Hastings is curiously named, because it actually took place several miles away from Hastings, in the place now called Battle. An early chronicle simply states that it was a battle fought "at the hoary apple tree", a name which thankfully didn't catch on.

Anyway, if you do want to know the history of the oldest Bonfire Society and the making of effigies and so on, chose these links

Battel Bonfire Boyes

More info about the Guy

I don’t usually get political on social media, certain topics I much prefer to steer clear of, so take this as topical. Very topical. Quite often now public figures (of all kinds, not just political ones) are chosen as the year’s featured ‘Guy’ Boris Johnson has been a famous Guy too.

Just look at the scale of the build

So there we have it, a bit about nature, a wealth of trivia and some reminiscing and all because from today England is in official lockdown again,  A month long starter for ten - award yourself some cinder toffee or sticky parkin as a Bonfire Night prize if you know that one. If you do make some cinder toffee try dipping it in melted chocolate for your own homemade version of a Crunchie. Tomorrow, Thank Crunchie it’s Friday. Does anyone else recall that advert on the TV?

As we can’t be sure when we’ll all be free to celebrate again, enjoy this, the London Fireworks welcoming 2020. A new year is always full of hope. We just didn’t have a clue what a memorable year this was going to be did we. If we had, we might have decided to blow it up from the start!

Got to admit I thought twice about the Boom Boom joke just on the off-chance those words trigger monitoring by security services! Too paranoid? Well, you can’t be too careful, but no, for the record, I’m definitely not plotting to blow up anything. It’s just another childhood memory.

Plenty of linked reading today then to while away some time in lockdown or wherever you are. Stay safe chaps and fingers crossed for better days.

Poppy for Remembrance (not my photo)

[exploring2gether123]

HEALTHY BREAKFAST FOR HUMAN BEINGS

A healthy breakfast is what everyone wants a healthy body for a soothing and disease-free life. But what do you really mean about a healthy body? A healthy body doesn’t mean only a muscular body but a body that looks fit inside out, you can compare your body with a machine just like machines require servicing and proper care for great performance same applies to your body. For a healthy body, with exercise and yoga, your diet should also be healthy from the starting to the end of the day. How will your day go is decided by how you start the day so let’s talk about a healthy breakfast connection with your day and body.

Many studies say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day because this is the first meal for your body after overnight fast and if you see breakfast literally means breakfast. There is an old saying that ‘ Eat breakfast like a king, lunch like a princess, dinner like a pauper’.

Yes, many of you will say we have a busy lifestyle and not willingly we have to skip our breakfast. And yeah! This is the reality of today’s lifestyle, but with work, health is equally important if you can’t take a king-size breakfast to grab any fruit like an apple a day keeps the doctor away or a banana or any other fruit and a glass of milk for a kick start to your day, a boiled egg will also be good or a whole-white bread with a layer of butter, if you have some time in your hand make so pooha or upma a great treat for your taste and body.

If you are thinking skipped breakfast will not do anything! Here is some reason why you should not miss the staring meal of the day

It can lead to Acidity

If you skip your breakfast you can have acidity and your tummy will be upset whole day, it can affect your mood. You will be irritated the whole day and others will be bearing the burst.

If you are trying to lose weight but not able to. Starving yourself will not make you lose weight it will only low your metabolism which will lead to more weight gain instead of starving yourself start adding healthy meals. And eating breakfast helps in boosting your metabolism.

If you will start your day hungry you will feel low and will get tired fast. Since your glucose level is still not up to the mark.

When you will be hungry, you will grab anything without taking care of calories so again you will gain weight.

You try to concentrate hard and work on your most important presentation, but your body is like a car running on an empty petrol tank. Your brain refuses to pick up speed and concentration because you forgot to stock up your body fuel.

Here is some healthy breakfast you can have for giving a kickstart to your day :

Eggs

Greek Yogurt

Coffee

Oatmeal

Chia seeds

You can make chia seed pudding.

Chia seed pudding

Ingredient

1 ounce (28 grams) of dried chia seeds.

A scoop of 1 whey protein powder.

1 cup (240 ml) of coconut milk or almond milk.

Half a cup of berries.

Stevia or another sweetener to taste, if desired.

Berries

Nuts

Green tea

Protein shakes

Fruit

Flaxseed

Cottage cheese

There where some high protein breakfast you can have, it will be very good if you will have some of them in breakfast or can have a good Indian breakfast.

I hope this article has helped you understand the importance of  breakfast and a healthy meal so keep these points in mind and make your life happy and fit with a happy body and healthy meal

https://exploring2gether.com/healthy-breakfast-for-human-beings/

[la-quarantine-bakery]

Journey to my first sourdough: sesame spelt loaf

This is going to be a long rambly post because it will record the birth of my starter. What’s its name? Read on...

The beginning

I started my sourdough starter on June 13th in the evening. In fact, I started two: the one on the right was made from rye + tap water (left to sit out for a day for the chlorine to dissipate), whereas the one on the left was made from rye + impulse buy pineapple juice the day after (June 14th).

My first starter was a yogurt + milk starter that failed miserably, as it grew black mold. My feeding it expired bleached flour and general neglect didn’t help.

Bubbles!

There was very little activity from the starters at first. I tried stirring them a few times between feedings to aerate them. My rye + water starter just smelled kind of funky. My rye + pineapple juice starter sort of showed some bubbles, but then it was quiet thereafter. Not sure if I killed it with microwaved pineapple juice or if I got too impatient.

I almost gave up on my rye + water starter, to be honest. The consistency of the starter was odd, due to the rye flour, and there were clumps that made me worry about mold. Not caring about contamination, I stirred it with the same spoon I used to stir the rye + pineapple juice starter.

At some point though, the rye + water starter started showing bubbles! It also looked frothy on top and felt frothy as I stirred. Perhaps due to the rye flour, or due to the organic King Arthur Flour all-purpose flour. Or maybe because the AP flour came from the excess flour I accidentally added to a bread recipe, so some commercial yeast got in.

Going forward, I’m just going to refer to rye + water as my starter, as rye + pineapple juice failed :( 

Scent of nail polish

Around this time, my starter started showing hooch, first in the middle, and then at the top. It also smelled terrible, like nail polish. I split my starter into a few jars at this point because I was paranoid that I was going to fail and didn’t want to discard too much. All of them smelled like nail polish.

All of them smelled of acetone for two days. I threw away those discards because I didn’t think I was going to enjoy eating them.

All of them were also pretty quiet. Sure, I still got the occasional bubbles, especially after I stirred them.

Yogurt

At some point, sometime between Wednesday night and Thursday morning (June 17th and June 18th), after diligently feeding my starter and pouring out the hooch, it developed a nicer, yogurty smell. It still wasn’t very bubbly, but when I used it to make pancakes, I could taste the tang. So I knew that at least I managed to successfully grow lactic acid.

(Except apparently lactic acid bacteria was always present, it’s just a matter of getting the right strain.)

Apple cider

More feedings elapsed. It is now over a week later, June 21st. My starter remained sleepy and not very bubbly. It was clear that it was never going to leaven bread like this. So I added some rye flour into its Sunday morning breakfast after weaning it off.

Nothing seemed to happen. And then...all of a sudden, it started to show bubbles. And then it started to rise. I didn’t believe that my starter was even going to double but it was tripling in size. And it no longer smelled like yogurt - it now smelled like apple cider. Nom!

Most importantly, my starter is alive!

Sponge

I used some discard in a bread sponge for pain de Savoie. And it’s so bubbly! It gave me the confidence that it will grow strong enough to leaven bread all on its own soon.

Puffy-chan

Look at those cute bubbles!

Our first bread

We already made pain de Savoie with the help of some commercial yeast earlier this week. The sesame spelt loaf recipe comes from Flora Shedden’s beautiful new cookbook, Aran. In fact, it was that recipe that gave me the determination that I was going to have a successful sourdough starter.

I made some slight changes:

Oven temperature was lower than recommended (both because I didn’t want to overexert my home oven and I didn’t want a very heavy crust)

I used some ground black sesame in place of the sesame seeds

I forgot to put sesame seeds on top before baking and hurriedly splashed some on...

Making sourdough was an interesting experience. A lot of internet resources suggested getting the starter at its peak, making levain, long autolyse, and most importantly, long proof times to let the yeast work.

Puffy-chan was true to its name: my loaf was more than doubled in size after two hours. I was afraid of overfermenting, especially when the bread was half spelt as that had weak gluten structure, so for the final proof I put it in the refrigerator almost directly.

Learnings:

Watch the dough closely as it ferments

Don’t put too much rice flour in the bowl (or mix it with other flour)

Don’t let the parchment paper shape the dough...I think it’s my second or third time where the parchment paper resulted in some weird corners

Score more deeply

Brush dough with water BEFORE baking and maybe brush with butter after baking

This bread came out so nice and crusty. The crust was a little hard - I might drop the temperature next time - but the taste was nutty from the sesame and the spelt. Not very sour - perhaps my starter is too young, perhaps it is too well-fed.

I also finally managed to take a decent plate picture, although that came at the expense of a messy countertop.

Sourdough baking is so addicting. I can’t wait to make more recipes.

Recipe: sesame spelt loaf from Flora Shedden’s Aran

[dfroza]

is your beautiful heart prepared with Light?

have you welcomed the entrance of the Spirit (inside, Anew) in the pure and eternal truth of Love as revealed by the Son?

have you come to view all of life through baptism eyes?

A sacred question mark (?) that relates with Today’s reading in the Scriptures from the book of Matthew in chapter 25:

Jesus: Or picture the kingdom of heaven this way. It will be like ten bridesmaids who each picked up a lantern and went out to meet a certain bridegroom. Five of these women were sensible, good with details, and remembered to bring small flasks of oil for their lanterns. But five of them were flighty, too caught up in the excitement of their jaunt, and forgot to bring oil with them. The bridegroom did not turn up right away. Indeed, all the women, while waiting, found themselves falling asleep. And then in the middle of the night, they heard someone call, “The bridegroom is here, finally! Wake up and greet him!” The women got up and trimmed the wicks of their lanterns and prepared to go greet the groom. The five women who had no oil turned to their friends for help.

Ill-prepared Bridesmaids: Please give us some of your oil! Our lanterns are flickering and will go out soon.

But the five women who’d come prepared with oil said they didn’t have enough.

Prepared Bridesmaids: If we give you some of our oil, we’ll all run out too soon! You’d better go wake up a dealer and buy your own supply.

So the five ill-prepared women went in search of oil to buy, and while they were gone, the groom arrived. The five who stood ready with their lanterns accompanied him to the wedding party, and after they arrived, the door was shut.

Finally the rest of the women turned up at the party. They knocked on the door.

Ill-prepared Bridesmaids: Master, open up and let us in!

Bridegroom (refusing): I certainly don’t know you.

So stay awake; you neither know the day nor hour [when the Son of Man will come].

The Book of Matthew, Chapter 25:1-13 (The Voice)

with this chapter of the New Testament paired with Ezekiel chapter 32 in which is again seen an act of God’s “Checkmate” against the dragon named in this ancient writing as Pharaoh of Egypt:

[A Cloud Across the Sun]

In the twelfth year, on the first day of the twelfth month, God’s Message came to me: “Son of man, sing a funeral lament over Pharaoh king of Egypt. Tell him:

“‘You think you’re a young lion

prowling through the nations.

You’re more like a dragon in the ocean,

snorting and thrashing about.

“‘God, the Master, says:

“‘I’m going to throw my net over you

—many nations will get in on this operation—

and haul you out with my dragnet.

I’ll dump you on the ground

out in an open field

And bring in all the crows and vultures

for a sumptuous carrion lunch.

I’ll invite wild animals from all over the world

to gorge on your guts.

I’ll scatter hunks of your meat in the mountains

and strew your bones in the valleys.

The country, right up to the mountains,

will be drenched with your blood,

your blood filling every ditch and channel.

When I blot you out,

I’ll pull the curtain on the skies

and shut out the stars.

I’ll throw a cloud across the sun

and turn off the moonlight.

I’ll turn out every light in the sky above you

and put your land in the dark.

Decree of God, the Master.

I’ll shake up everyone worldwide

when I take you off captive to strange and far-off countries.

I’ll shock people with you.

Kings will take one look and shudder.

I’ll shake my sword

and they’ll shake in their boots.

On the day you crash, they’ll tremble,

thinking, “That could be me!”

[To Lay Your Pride Low]

“‘God, the Master, says:

“‘The sword of the king of Babylon

is coming against you.

I’ll use the swords of champions

to lay your pride low,

Use the most brutal of nations

to knock Egypt off her high horse,

to puncture that hot-air pomposity.

The Book of Ezekiel, Chapter 32:1-12 (The Message)

for to humble ourselves under God and His truth is essential in life, which when not chosen by a person it will be chosen for them, eventually. sometimes not until after a person passes away from the physical body.

and then moving along with Today’s reading with the Psalms that coincide with October 24 and day 32 of Autumn as well as day 297 of the year (equaling Psalm 147 now with the book of 150 Psalms in its 2nd revolution this year)

[Psalm 24]

A song of David.

The earth and all that’s upon it belong to the Eternal.

The world is His, with every living creature on it.

With seas as foundations and rivers as boundaries,

He shaped the continents, fashioned the earth.

Who can possibly ascend the mountain of the Eternal?

Who can stand before Him in sacred spaces?

Only those whose hands have been washed and hearts made pure,

men and women who are not given to lies or deception.

The Eternal will stand close to them with blessing and mercy at hand,

and the God who redeems will right what has been wrong.

These are the people who chase after Him;

[like Jacob, they look for the face of God].

[pause]

City gates—open wide!

Ancient doors—stand back!

For the glorious King shall soon pass your way.

Who is the glorious King?

The Eternal who is powerful

and mightily equipped for battle.

City gates—open wide!

Ancient doors—stand back!

For the glorious King shall soon pass your way.

Who is the glorious King?

The Eternal, Commander of heaven’s army,

He is the glorious King.

[pause]

The Book of Psalms, Poem 24 (The Voice)

[Psalm 32]

A contemplative song of David.

How happy is the one whose wrongs are forgiven,

whose sin is hidden from sight.

How happy is the person whose sin the Eternal will not take into account.

How happy are those who no longer lie, to themselves or others.

When I refused to admit my wrongs, I was miserable,

moaning and complaining all day long

so that even my bones felt brittle.

Day and night, Your hand kept pressing on me.

My strength dried up like water in the summer heat;

You wore me down.

[pause]

When I finally saw my own lies,

I owned up to my sins before You,

and I did not try to hide my evil deeds from You.

I said to myself, “I’ll admit all my sins to the Eternal,”

and You lifted and carried away the guilt of my sin.

[pause]

So let all who are devoted to You

speak honestly to You now, while You are still listening.

For then when the floods come, surely the rushing water

will not even reach them.

You are my hiding place.

You will keep me out of trouble

and envelop me with songs that remind me I am free.

[pause]

I will teach you and tell you the way to go and how to get there;

I will give you good counsel, and I will watch over you.

But don’t be stubborn and stupid like horses and mules

who, if not reined by leather and metal,

will run wild, ignoring their masters.

Tormented and empty are wicked and destructive people,

but the one who trusts in the Eternal is wrapped tightly in His gracious love.

Express your joy; be happy in Him, you who are good and true.

Go ahead, shout and rejoice aloud, you whose hearts are honest and straightforward.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 32 (The Voice)

[Psalm 147]

Praise the Eternal!

It is good to sing praises to our God,

for praise is beautiful and pleasant.

The Eternal, Architect of earth, is building Jerusalem,

finding the lost, gathering Israel’s outcasts.

He binds their wounds,

heals the sorrows of their hearts.

He counts all the stars within His hands,

carefully fixing their number

and giving them names.

Our Lord is great. Nothing is impossible with His overwhelming power.

He is loving, compassionate, and wise beyond all measure.

The Eternal will lift up the lowly

but throw down the wicked to the earth.

Open your mouths with thanks!

Sing praises to the Eternal!

Strum the harp in unending praise to our God

Who blankets the heavens with clouds,

sends rain to water the thirsty earth,

and pulls up each blade of grass upon the mountainside.

He opens His hands to feed all the animals

and scatters seed to nestlings when they cry.

He takes no pleasure in the raw strength of horses;

He finds no joy in the speed of the sprinter.

But the Eternal does take pleasure in those who worship Him,

those who invest hope in His unfailing love.

O Jerusalem, praise the Eternal!

O Zion, praise your God!

For His divine power reinforces your city gates,

blesses your children in the womb.

He establishes peace within your borders,

fills your markets with hearty golden wheat.

His command ripples across the earth;

His word runs out on swift feet.

He blankets the earth in wooly snow,

scattering frost like ashes over the land.

He throws down hail like stones falling from a mountain.

Can any withstand His wintry blast?

But He dispatches His word, and the thaw begins;

at His command, the spring winds blow, gently stirring the waters back to life.

He brings Jacob in on His plan, declaring His word—

His statutes and His teachings to Israel.

He has not treated any other nation in such a way;

they live unaware of His commands.

Praise the Eternal!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 147 (The Voice)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for October 24, the 32nd day of Autumn as a mirroring of the alphabetic number 32 of the word “Eve” as well as being day 297 of the year that mirrors the address at Apple Ridge apartments in Standale where i lived on Manzana court back in ‘94 when i was married for the first time: