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goldenbullsblog · 9 months

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Unlocking the Power of Currency Markets: Discovering Excellence with Golden Bulls International Academy's Premier Forex and Stock Trading Education

Welcome to the world of financial empowerment, where trading becomes an art and financial freedom a tangible reality. Golden Bulls International Academy stands as a beacon for all enthusiastic traders, offering a transformative journey into the realm of Forex education. Born as an extension of the esteemed Golden Bulls Trading Academy in India, our institution is on a mission to redefine the global landscape of Forex education.

At the heart of Golden Bulls International Academy lies a commitment to nurturing and empowering individuals from all walks of life. With pride, we’ve already impacted the lives of over 20,000 students, guiding them towards financial prosperity and trading success. Our legacy is built on the success stories of those who have dared to dream big and embark on the exciting journey of trading.

One of our core beliefs is that education knows no boundaries. Golden Bulls International Academy breaks down language barriers, making Forex education accessible to enthusiasts around the world. Our diverse learning environment transcends geographical constraints, fostering a global community of traders united by a common goal — financial empowerment.

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#online trading courses #stock market courses #forex training #currency market education #professional trading courses

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icfminstitutee · 10 months

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Unlocking Wealth: Your Guide to Success in the Stock Market Course

Join us on a journey through the fundamentals of the stock market course, where you'll learn how to identify lucrative investment opportunities, navigate market fluctuations, and build a robust investment portfolio. Dive into engaging lessons, interactive tutorials, and real-world case studies that will equip you with practical strategies and insights from seasoned experts.

#Stock Market Education #Stock Market Course Program #Join Stock Market institute #What is stock market #Stock Market Training institute in india #share market training institute in Delhi #Best international stock market courses #Share Market Institute in Delhi #Best Institute of Stock Market in Delhi #Stock Market Course in Delhi #Stock Market institute in Delhi #professional trader course in Near Me #trading online course in Delhi #Stock Market Training in Delhi #us stock market courses #Options Trading Course #Stock Market Courses #Stock Market Course

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moneyplanttradingacademy · 1 year

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Stock Market Course in Ahmedabad | money plant

Unlock the secrets of the stock market with our comprehensive Stock Market Course in Ahmedabad, brought to you by Money Plant. Whether you're a beginner looking to build a strong foundation or an experienced trader aiming to refine your skills, our course offers tailored insights and hands-on learning. Discover the art of strategic investing, technical analysis, risk management, and more in the heart of Ahmedabad. Grow your financial knowledge with Money Plant's Stock Market Course and cultivate a prosperous future in the world of trading.

#Stock Market Course in Ahmedabad #Stock Market Classes in Ahmedabad #Technical Analysis Course in Ahmedabad #Stock Analysis Course in Ahmedabad #Advanced Technical Analysis Course #Advanced Technical Analysis in ahmedabad #Advance Trading Courses in Ahmedabad #Professional Stock Trading Course in Ahmedabad #Professional Trading Strategies in Ahmedabad

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icfmindia · 2 years

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Stock Market Courses and Culture

Stock Market Professional Courses have grown in popularity in being a standout career choice in the present era. These career choices have made a point. That financial market is a huge source of redeeming unemployment and money-earning skills. People study and learn a skill for years. This is a tendency to make the most out of something you can within your capacities.

The stock market is not merely intuitive, it has components, a structure, a system, and certain regulations not imposed by the Govt but by autonomous bodies from the market. It is a pretty straightforward thing to learn the choices, decisions, and tasks that a pro trader should consider before carrying out any trade practice in the financial market.

Among all trading courses, The Options Trading Course in Delhi is the most prominent one to learn for ingraining introduction to how a trader works and executes strategies or decisions. Instead of any long assumptions, it is based on the real-life experience of a trader. And the aspirants receive hands-on experience in observing real market tendencies, mechanisms, and various trading behaviors plus patterns.

Trading courses throughout India are no more a far destination to reach; the journey has become rather easy. People are joining Trading Courses in Chandigarh to Chennai, and people from all other parts of the country can join such courses. The main influence that these short-term courses generate is more excellent than l time consuming academic degrees in financial streak.

To cut short the ruling and prime concepts; some methodologies are taught with live experience in all the stock market institutes like ICFM India Franchise Company in Delhi. What works in the market is figured out quite deeply by all the aspirants of such courses. Or in other words, these courses are a streamlined package of those degrees in a short period.

In all these courses aspirants get completely familiar with all the skills like reading charts, trends, and patterns. They get acquainted with all the concurrent trading software programs. They learn to monitor and predict changes after working on them throughout their entire course period. This is the best practice to trade every day like a trader in the financial market at the behest of the incurrence of the institute.

Otherwise entering the finance market without practicing trading is always an expensive affair. It has always drained the wealth of people in just a few strokes. The Global financial crisis that caught the world in 2008 has been one of the vivid examples of collapses.

It is something positive to see people vying to make a career in this niche of the financial market. Most young people are very much intrigued by what financial liberty has to offer. With the juggernaut and spectrum of stock market trading training programs growing on a high note, it is now possible to learn trading just at a click online.

As they say, "construct the future in your present," and you can do that by getting trained with a stock market trading institute or through a stock market course both online and offline.

#Stock Market Professional Courses #option trading course in delhi #Trading Courses in Chandigarh

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theycallmeratt · 2 months

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Zarys Reference

Overall:

Zhentarim rogue who is the leader (Swordhar) of the group in the basement of Waukeen's Rest. The group appears to be running cargo through the Underdark. If you use Speak with Dead on her, she says this location is a Zhentarim trading post and the tunnels lead "... Underdark... trading route... and graveyard both..."

When the player character arrives, she's waiting for a shipment that Rugan has. Once it arrives, she plans on destroying of their base (because the Fists are in Waukeen's Rest.)

Once the player character has her approval, they can purchase more stock from Brem.

She is described in dev notes as neutral toned, blunt, unimpressed. No bluster or boasting, several of her statements are described as "a simple statement of fact". For the most part, seems fairly even-keeled and able to put aside her emotions. She does have some moments of humor/jovialness, usually when she's threatened.

If the player character tries to sneak up on her, she has lines for first falling back and then trying to escape. Dev notes say, "the Zhent would usually run but choose to fight as the player got too close before discovery." There's also this note: "Her gang are preparing to burn down their hideout when they leave, and in some cases she'll give the order to start that process if she thinks we're a threat."

There's cut/bugged content around her. If you save Rugan and do not take the shipment, Rugan was supposed to show up in act 3 and tell you the rest of the group was framed and hung for the kidnapping of Duke Ulder.

Hardened professional:

"Couldn't you just be a professional? Do as you're told, no questions asked? Like so: Lads! Kill them."

"You've... opened the shipment." Dev note: Mute, neutral - she's not surprised by much, but opening this shipment means we've killed her and all her men.

Dev Note: "We told her we'd do a job, and she's not going to be giving us a penny until we complete it"

Dev note: "Shrugging, unconcerned - she's ready to kill anyone at any moment, it's not personal."

"That's Zhent business, not yours. You did me a service - doesn't make you one of us."

If a barbarian roars at her and succeeds in intimidating her, she says "A… roar? That was unexpected" and the dev notes say "Initially a bit scared, then recovers composure".

Dev note: "Off-hand, as if asking you to kill an unarmed man she's known for years is a mere formality."

She does lose her temper here: "Actually, hells with this - the day I've had? You just lost your life too."

Smart

If you read her mind, she'll figure it out: "I never mentioned any cargo, and I don't care for people poking around in my head."

Calls that the Fist will frame them: "The Flaming Fist will want someone to blame, and I don't plan to leave anything pointing our way." (Player character says the Fist know they're there and don't care) "Maybe not now, no. But that'll change once the council gets involved. They'll want heads to roll."

Reacts to guts/bravery/threats with amusement

"You've got guts. I respect that."

Dev note: Genuine laughter - you're threatening her gang despite the odds being heavily stacked against you. She's won over by it.

"Hah! Of course - all you had to do was ask." - in response to player asking to skip to the killing. Dev notes: Genuinely amused - she likes your directness, and is all to happy to grant your request.

Speaks using a lot of commerce terms/phrases

"Trade with what? Your life was ours the moment you walked in here. But… maybe I'll let you buy it back. I have a job needs doing."

"Failure creates debt. And debt requires payment."

"And just like that, everyone profits."

The job over people:

"Some of our people are missing - more importantly, so is their cargo"

"I was glad to see Rugan, until he told me he lost the shipment."

"Keep them alive if you can. Failing that, just bring that shipment back."

"More importantly, that's the one who saved the cargo, Rugan." - said to Rugan after he IDs you as the one who saved him.

Rugan says, "If Zarys doesn't get that chest, she'll have us all killed" and he's right

Trusts no one:

"Then I'm in your debt - or will be, once I see him and his cargo. Didn't think you'd get your coin based on spinning some tale, did you?" Dev note: "Neutral - not unfriendly but we're telling her something too good to be true and until she sees evidence she's not interested in dealing with us"

Sense of humor, but sarcastic/mocking:

After Olly mispronounces Zhent as "Za-hent", she asks if he's "scared of gahosts?"

When the player says they're still looking for Rugan/Olly/the cargo: "Well I'll give you a hint, shall I? They ain't down here."

If a barbarian roars at her and fails to intimidate her, she says, "A… roar? That was… unimpressive." and the dev notes say, "Slightly bemused at the strange roar"

When talking to Olly's tortured corpse, she does so "almost cheerfully"

Relationships:

Roah says, "Never much liked Zarys, truth be told"

Zarys says in regards to Olly: "I do it because it makes me hate him less."

Dev note if player character delivers cargo to her unopened: "She looks on us as an equal - she usually views those she works with as messy or inferior"

Refers to her group as "lads". No clue if this is a just a phrase or if it's implying Vol is "one of the boys", a tomboy, or transmasc.

Rugan recruited her: "You're the one who recruited me, Rugan. You're the one who taught me rule number one, remember? (...) You're dead the moment you steal from the Zhentarim. No matter who you are."

If Zarys dies, Bellar seems genuinely upset

Vol says she's never seen Zarys work a day in her life

Rugan calls her a "black-hearted vixen"

Misc:

Not religious: "'Fellow Banite' might be a bit strong, but you're welcome among the Zhent."

Turns off the humor quickly: "All joviality dropped - flat and icy-cold."

Tends to start a sentence like it'll go one way and then switch it up:

Funny thing, though - I swear I told you not to open it.

You have a death wish, happy to grant it

Phrases:

--, shall I?

ain't

Didn't think [statement], did you?

Yeah? (as a greeting)

Well?

You know [statement], right?

Takes steel to - instead of "takes balls to" or "takes a spine to"

toddle off/toddle in

I got a tingle for a second there.

Of course

And in no state to tell tales - instead of, "And not in a state" or whatever

Seems I recall

Funny/Funny, that/Funny thing

Actually, --

Does not shorten as many as her sentences as the other Zhents. Example: says, "I suggest you" instead of "Suggest you",

A lot of "I ____" - "I'll welcome you as a friend", "I swear I told you", "I suggest you turn around", "I recall", "I don't like", "I won't."

So many threats to rip or cut out tongues - "That tongue gets any looser, Rugan, I'll cut it out"

Insults:

stlarning lunatic

Compliments:

a godsdamned wonder

Curses/Exclamations:

Beshaba's black bones

godsdamned

Gods damn it

bloody

Whoa

Hrast - a curse in common, means something like "damn"

stlarning - more harsh than hrast

Huh

Oof

hells/hells with this

Placeholders: None

#bg3 fanfic #dialogue reference #reference #bg3 reference #arcanus fisticuffus #bg3 zarys

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cycian · 11 months

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Can’t stop thinking about when you said “Andreja… loves sprawling herself on the lap of her dearests”

The thought of her falling asleep on Sarah’s lap and Sarah just panicking (lovingly) hard but also feeling the same way as when a cat blesses you with feeling comfortable enough to sleep on you. This has plagued me and I needed to share.

Anon, the instant you dropped this in my inbox, it started living in my head rentfree so I had to drop everything and write it ASAP lest it plagued me too. Here's to ending the Haunting of Andrejarah for the both of us (impossible). Also, fun fact, the poem used in this fill is 'Parted Presence' by Dante Rossetti, and is the poem I used when proposing to my now wife.

Moments like these were rare and few in-between. The fire was roaring, her whiskey was smooth and her book was good. Barrett had all but dropped it on her lap, while Walter had snatched the quarterly reports, quoting that ‘she had better things to do than fill out those damn reports’. She had attempted to join Noel in her experiments, but the scientist had shooed her away, threatening to pull out Sarah’s newsletter to Constellation about the importance of a good life/work balance.

So, 11:00 whiskey and literature.

Apparently, she was not the only one getting chastised for working too much. Up above, in the bar, Vladimir’s booming voice chided Andreja. She did not hear Andreja’s response, but could very well imagine her rolling her eyes. Barrett must have acquired stock from the publisher, because no sooner had she turned the page, Andreja walked in front of the foyer, same book in hand.

“Forced leave?” Sarah jested as Andreja shook her head, a small smile on her painted lips. Sarah patted the spot next to her and scooched to the side of the armchair to give Andreja more room to sit.

“I know that it is coming from a place of…affection. But I do not enjoy getting told to ‘sit down’ and ‘relax’.” Andreja’s fingers drummed against the cover of the book. “I appreciate the concern, but I find exploration to be relaxing.”

Sarah nodded her agreement, letting her thumb rest between the pages. “So do I, but today, I will humor them. Plus, the book is pretty good.”

Andreja hummed and settled on the couch. Seeing Andreja attempt to relax was endearing. Though the couch was comfortable (Walter never skimmed when it came to the Lodge’s amenities), Andreja sat rigidly, her back straight as she opened the book with a focused frown.

Sarah returned to her whiskey and literature, occasionally sneaking a look at the House Va’ruun.

Andreja had become a full member almost a year and a half ago and Sarah was still learning so much about her. When travelling together, Andreja’s brows were always furrowed and only relaxed when a fight was breaking out. In the privacy of the Lodge, her shoulders were taut, but her lips were slowly starting to loosen. Sarah watched (only with appreciation for her colleague relaxing next to her, of course) as Andreja’s teeth nibbled on her lower lip, before immediately stopping, as if expecting punishment. Her index finger trailed underneath the sentences she was reading, and Sarah caught that finger often returning to previous lines, reading them over and over again. Andreja would occasionally huff, sometimes roll her eyes as her finger traveled over the page.

“Enjoying the book?” Sarah asked after Andreja had returned to the same line for the seventh time.

Andreja set the book on her lap, her eyes narrowing. One of Andreja’s traits that never failed to make Sarah swoon (professionally, as someone who was very detail oriented and did not like to leave things up to chance), was how she pondered her every word. Certainly, with English being the predominant trade and diplomatic language in both UC and FC space, Andreja, as a non-native speaker, needed more time to formulate her thoughts. But the precision with which she chose her words was not only due to her linguistic level. Andreja loved precision. She sharpened her blades every day after waking up at precisely 6:30 every morning. Her weapons were always neatly arranged in the basement’s display cases and in immaculate shape.

“I believe that I enjoy the book in the same manner that I enjoy our journey. I am unsure that I truly understand everything—but I enjoy attempting to make sense of it.” Andreja finally declared. “My understanding of English may not be sufficient to accurately get the full picture.”

“Poetry is a hard genre to read, especially when it’s in a foreign language,” Sarah could relate. Although English was her first language, poetry had long eluded her. She’d forgone the genre altogether for a decade, until she could finally learn to read between the lines. “May I give you a hand?”

Andreja nodded, taking Sarah’s hand into hers. Idioms were very confusing to Andreja. And Andreja was very confusing to Sarah. The Chair blinked, her hand limp in Andreja’s hand. She should’ve explained that she was offering help, not to hold hands but… Andreja had accepted, had she not?

“You are very red, Miss Morgan.” Andreja noted while Sarah felt her face burn even more.

“Ah, well, it’s the heat from the fireplace, perhaps I should… Take off my jacket?” Sarah used this as an opportunity to withdraw her hand from Andreja lest she goes into cardiac arrest. She folded her jacket and let it rest on the couch’s arm, counting down from ten in a desperate attempt to regain some control over herself.

Andreja patiently waited, extending her hand to Sarah once more, before wordlessly returning to her book.

Sarah attempted to do the same—to no avail. It was impossible to get to focus with Andreja’s hand warming hers, occasionally giving her a light squeeze, which had the effect of sending Sarah’s heart thundering against her ribcage. She was not a teenager anymore, holding hands with someone who considered her a friend and was under her supervision as Chair should most certainly not have that effect on her. But despite Sarah chastising herself over and over again in her mind, she could not stop her eyes from drifting to the woman holding her hand, instead of the book she was supposed to be reading.

Damn it. So much for relaxation—she was certain her heart would give out. She set her book down on the coffee table and eyed her whiskey. It was a nice, expensive whiskey reserved for special days. She downed the glass in one go and let herself melt into the couch, Andreja still holding her hand.

“Are you alright, Miss Morgan?”

“Never been better.” Said Sarah, feeling as if she was on death’s door.

“Do you still wish to give me a hand?” Andreja asked, her hand slowly withdrawing from Sarah’s. Sarah squeezed her hand, letting their fingers intwine.

“Absolutely.”

“Thank you. I do not understand this passage: ‘Your hands to-day are not here, Yet lay them, love, in my hands.’, how can one lay their hands in someone else’s, if they are not physically present?”

“Wait, so you knew that ‘giving a hand’ meant?”

Andreja perked up, proud of herself. “Oh, yes. Sam has taught me that one.”

Sarah refrained from pinching the bridge of her nose with her index and thumb. “So, why did you hold my hand?”

“Because I wanted to. That’s what people who love each other do, yes?” Andreja declared nonchalantly, as if she had not murdered Sarah Morgan with a single sentence. Sarah’s eyes widened, her pulse quickening way past what was considered healthy. She loves me? Probably as a friend, don’t read too much into it, don’t ruin this—ruin her trust. “So. What does it mean?”

“Huh?” Very eloquent, Sarah.

“We are here, holding hands.” Andreja squeezed her hand for emphasis. “It is possible because we are both physically present, yes? You can see me, you can touch me.” To demonstrate her point, she brought Sarah’s hand to her face.

Sarah cupped her cheek, letting her fingers roam over the high cheekbones, trying her utmost to gather what was left of her wit to answer Andreja’s question. She gulped, fighting with herself to form a coherent sentence.

“It’s figurative, the author knows that such thing is not possible—but the poem is about transcending the reality of space with love—that love can conquer everything, including the laws of physics.”

Andreja narrowed her eyes pensively, her hand still holding Sarah’s to her face, before slowly making it trail down, by her lips. “Do you think it’s possible? That love would conquer even the laws of physics, the laws of the Gr—the Great Beyond.” She corrected herself, her eyes darting around the room to confirm that no one was around.

“I am hardly an idealist but…” Sarah let her eyes flutter closed for an instant. She’d choose Andreja over any artifact, she’d choose her life over her own, if there was one thing that she would not let this universe forget, it was Andreja’s name. Even if the Great Serpent, Andreja’s divinity, would kill her for it. “Yes, I believe that there are forms of love that transcend everything, the laws of men and gods alike.”

A smile curled Andreja’s lips, as she brought them to Sarah’s wrist, planting a languid kiss that made Sarah forget how to breathe. Andreja let go of her hand. Sarah stifled a disappointed whine in the back of her throat as the House Va’ruun got up, before bracing her hands against Sarah’s shoulders.

“May I?” Andreja asked.

Sarah had no idea what Andreja wanted—but all she knew was that she did not need to understand to love it—to love her. Half the fun was in trying to figure it out.

“Yes, Andreja. Anything you want.”

Her shoulders were pushed back against the couch, as Andreja curled herself in Sarah’s lap. It took a few minutes of adjustment to be comfortable, as Andreja was much taller than Sarah. But still, she managed to make herself perfectly comfortable, balanced on the older woman’s lap, one arm tightly wrapped around Sarah’s shoulders.

“Be careful, Miss Morgan, I could ask for something impossible.” Andreja spoke against her neck, sending an army of shivers down Sarah’s back.

And I’ll give it to you.

“Anything you want, Andreja.” Sarah repeated, not managing to tear her eyes away from the deep brown eyes that looked so painfully vulnerable, despite the levity of her tone.

“Read the book to me. Explain it to me. Please?”

Sarah Morgan could never say no to Andreja. Especially with those big brown eyes, so light in the warm glow of the fire.

“Poetry is very subjective, there is no universal truth to it.” Sarah explained, still picking up the book that Andreja set down in her hand.

“Very few truths are universal. I am only interested in yours.” Andreja whispered, before letting herself melt in Sarah’s embrace.

Sarah cleared her throat and the tears that were threatening to escape her eyes. “Two blent hearts never astray, two souls no power may sever…”

To Barrett’s credit, he at least knew better than to open his mouth when he found them, hours later. Andreja still sprawled across Sarah, the book still opened on Andreja’s lap. He was only allowed to snicker under his breath, Sarah’s eyes narrowed in threat as he took her glass and refilled it, before leaving with a friendly pat on Sarah Morgan’s hair. If there were any concerns to address, let them be handled by anyone else. Because Sarah Morgan knew the law very well, and knew that getting up and disturbing Andreja as she started to doze off on her lap would be worse than any war crime.

#starfield #andreja #sarah morgan #andrejarah #andreja x sarah morgan #starfield prompt fill #the gays love dante rossetti

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metalsongoftheday · 8 months

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Friday, February 9: Iron Maiden, "The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner"

“The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner” was one of Iron Maiden’s most lovably ridiculous tunes, a semi-epic so Steve Harris it was more than a little hilarious. Somewhere in Time found Maiden in a somewhat reflective space, flush from a massively successful worldwide tour and full of confidence but also worn out and ready to try a couple new things (though of course some members were much more willing than others), and Harris in particular went all-in on crafting multi-dimensional gallopers about whatever book or movie he just read or saw. So of course Iron Maiden would write a 6-minute melodrama about marathon running, and of course it would come exclusively from the pen of Steve Harris- Bruce Dickinson could barely keep a straight face trying to cram all these words into the verses and then turning the title into 300 syllables on the chorus, and everyone could tell. But even when Maiden was at their most ludicrous during their glory years, their momentum was unstoppable and it was hard to deny the goofy charm on display, from the weaving guitar melodies that felt obvious but also inevitable and awesome to the always stellar leads of Adrian Smith and Dave Murray, Nicko McBrain’s athletic drumming and the laughable sense of drama that was their stock in trade. In a way this was also the last time the band would sound this innocent: there was a feeling of enthusiasm that would soon be largely replaced by a colder sense of professionalism along with a templatized approach to exploration. But for 6 delightful minutes “The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner” was glorious nonsense from a band that didn’t take themselves quite as seriously as everyone thought, but did take themselves more seriously than was really necessary.

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megidonitram · 7 months

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Everyone's Running From Something (ch.1)

A Baldur's Gate 3 University Professor AU

Rating: M

Quick Summary: Astarion and Gale are two University English professors precariously mentoring a troubled 19-year-old and falling in love.

💖Main Pairing : BloodWeave,(Astarion/Gale) 💕Side Pairings: Shadowheart/Nocturne, Karlach/Dammon, Wyll/The Dark Urge, Tav/Tav 💔Past Pairings: Gale/Mystra, Astarion/Sebastian, Astarion/Tav

Master List | Ao3 | Next Chapter =>

**Please see Master List Entry for Full Content Warnings**

⏰Chapter Warning⏰ None

Astarion stared in mild consternation at the particle board desk that had been haphazardly squeezed into his office. Half his things -reference books, picture frames, a school flag one of his students had given him because “he didn’t have enough school spirit”- sat in a pile in the corner of the room. He very distinctly remembered his office being in one piece when he left for winter break.

“Jenevelle!” He yelled.

Professor Shadowheart ducked out of the breakroom with a mug of marginally drinkable Keurig coffee clasped in her hands. “I’m glad to see you too Astarion, how was your break? Did you successfully avoid your family?” She chirped with deeply ironic affability.

Astarion ignored her. “Do you know what happened to my office?”

“Oh, that? Yes, admin let us hire a new English professor to handle rhetoric and technical writing courses since Karlach decided she only wanted to stay part-time.” Shadowheart replied. “I thought you were on the hiring board- shouldn’t you remember this?”

“I know we have a new faculty member. I want to know why my office has been torn apart.” Astarion fumed.

“Provost said we didn’t have the office space for everyone in the English department to have their own office, so he said two of us would have to double up.” Shadowheart shrugged. “He thought you should be the one to share because you have the biggest office.”

“And I wasn’t informed about this because…”

“We were told not to let you know because you’d throw another fit in the dean’s office.”

“I’m the senior chair of the department, I shouldn’t be sharing my office with an adjunct- can’t he take Karlach’s office? It’s not like she needs one, she only teaches two courses a semester.” Astarion huffed. “Or he could be with you since you’re both teaching the entry levels.”

“My office was a literal broom closet before I started here!” Shadowheart shot back. “I don’t have room to meet with students, let alone share the space with another professor- but if you don’t want to share an office so badly, I’d be willing to trade with you.”

“Absolutely not,” Astarion replied. “Your office smells like bathroom cleaner.”

“Then it looks like you’re stuck…” Shadowheart sighed. “I’ll see you at the humanities all-hands.” She turned on her heels and went back to her office.

“Remember this moment when you need someone to drop a course so you can get another creative writing class on the roster,” Astarion grumbled.

He scrubbed his hands over his face and let out an exasperated sigh before he set to picking through his things to figure out where his colleagues had put everything. He liked Gale well enough as a professional, he seemed gregarious and personable, the kind of lecturer who could keep a student’s attention, and he was a lot more technically minded than any of the current faculty- but that didn’t mean he wanted to share a fucking office with him.

He should have known there was going to be a catch- there always had to be a fucking catch with admin. Balduran University was a business school through and through and put very little stock in any of its humanities departments- especially not into “dying fields” like English or literary studies. Usually, the English department didn’t get a cent more funding than absolutely necessary, and even then, their budget was constantly scrutinized to ensure it was actually necessary. He’d done a frankly unscrupulous amount of begging for years to get another full-time English professor in their threadbare department- everything short of just walking out and letting admin scramble to pick up the pieces. Of course, they would give the department the faculty member they’d been asking for and refuse to provide him with a space to work.

Astarion noticed a particular book from the pile of discarded things and turned it over in his hands, trying to place where he’d gotten it from. It was a collection of Paul Verlaine’s poetry in the original French, with a chipped yellowing dust jacket. It felt eerily, heartbreakingly, familiar, but he couldn’t place quite place it. He flipped through the slightly brittle pages to see if there was a passage or annotation that might jog his memory when a polaroid stuck in the dust jacket fluttered to the floor.

Astarion’s stomach lurched at the sight of the young man smiling up at him, relaxed and innocent as he lounged in the grass. His long ash-blonde hair spilling to one side over his shoulder, warm brown eyes gazing fondly at the person behind the counter, champagne silk button down undone just-so…

“I think we lose something when we don’t read an author in their original language.”

“And what am I losing when I read Verlaine in English?”

“Ça alors, the beauty- no, the music of the words. The English does not sing the way French does.”

A cautious knock at the door jolted Astarion quite rudely out of his thoughts. He grabbed the Polaroid off the floor, shoved it back into a random page in the book, and whirled around to see Gale standing stiff-backed in the doorway, clutching a box of his belongings. God, he was dressed like he was playing an English professor in a community theater play: Argyle vest, half-moon glasses, a tweed jacket with elbow patches and everything.

“I ah… didn’t mean to startle you.” He said with a nervous smile. “Jen told me we were sharing an office, at least temporarily.”

Temporarily in the sense that one day, one of them would eventually retire or die.

“Yes, that's apparently what I heard too,” Astarion replied. His eyes landed on the box in Gale’s arms. He hated this already. “Do you need help moving stuff up?”

Gale’s face lit up as he set his first box on his desk. “I do, actually! Thank you!”

Astarion grimaced when Gale turned his back. He’d offered out of courtesy, but he didn’t actually want Gale to take him up on it. He set the poetry book on his desk and pushed it out of his chair. Maybe a little bit of air and exercise would do him good. He followed Gale down the hall and up the stairs to the ground floor -Balduran U kept all its least loved departments sequestered away in the basement.

“So, have you been teaching here long?” Gale asked. He turned down the wrong hallway, and Astarion stood and watched as it slowly dawned on Gale that he was lost. He sheepishly turned on his heels and limped back over to Astarion.

“Ten years of my life wasted in that squalid little basement.” Astarion sighed. “I would tell you to get out while you still can, but I’m tired of suffering alone.”

Gale chuckled. He had a congenial chuckle like a talk show host. “It can’t be that bad, surely.” He said, “Or else someone as bright as you would have jumped ship by now.”

Astarion pounced on the compliment like a house cat. “You think I’m bright then?”

“Oh, I know you’re bright,” Gale replied. “You did your due diligence before you offered me this job. I did my due diligence before I accepted it. I read some of your published work, it was very impressive.”

Astarion swallowed back a pleased smirk, running his tongue over one of his canines. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Dr. Dekarios.”

They stepped outside into the dreary grey staff parking lot in the middle of the dreary grey of January. Gone was any of the merriment of the winter holidays, now all that was left was the cold bite of the wind and a few skeletal trees. Gale clicked the unlock button on his key fob, and a squat black hatchback with a bumper sticker in the rear window that said ‘Life’s better with a calico’ flashed its headlights.

“So why do you stick around if you find this place so disagreeable?” Gale asked. He popped the trunk and picked up another cardboard box filled to the brim with books.

“I’ve become quite attached to having a work visa,” Astarion replied frankly. He picked up a much lighter box of desk accessories. “And I suppose some of the students can be quite rewarding to work with- being a smaller program means you get more of an opportunity to form personal connections with the kids in our degree track… if you’re into that kind of thing. I personally get tired of all the recommendation letters they ask me to write.”

That and there was a certain level of anonymity that came with working at a small university. No one outside the city -outside the neighborhood really- had heard of Balduran University, and no one really cared about it. News stations never covered random happenings on campus for a quick local interest piece, so there were never any articles mentioning Astarion’s name and job title in passing to make their way back to people they shouldn’t.

“Ah, I did notice you had an accent!” Gale glossed over Astarion’s snippy comment as naturally as if it hadn’t even happened. He shut his trunk and started back for the office building. “Do you mind me asking where you’re from?”

“I grew up in Central London,” Astarion replied shortly.

“That’s quite a long hall. Do you get back home often?”

“Not if I can help it.” Astarion shuffled his box around in his hands to catch the door for Gale. “I’ve never gotten along very well with my family. We have an irreconcilable… difference in lifestyle choices.”

That was the understatement of the century.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I honestly can’t say how I’d get by if I didn’t have my mom.”

A woman with a pleasant face and an ankle-length floral skirt -probably an early-ed major- held the door to the stairwell open for the two of them. Their footsteps echoed off the polished concrete.

“I hope you’ve managed to find peace on your own, at least.”

“I’ve found ways to fill the void-” Astarion stepped backward through the door to the arts and letters wing and stopped so abruptly at the site of the large bald slap of muscle in gym shorts loitering outside his- and Gale’s- office door that Gale almost barreled into him. Astarion was rapidly approaching his surprise quota for the day.

“Dr. Ancunín!” Minsc bellowed, too chipper for the first Monday back from winter break. “Man I was looking for! How was your holiday? Good, I hope.”

“It was fine, Minsc. What are you doing here? Is something wrong?” Astarion fought the urge to dash past him and check his e-mail.

Minsc, infuriatingly, looked past Astarion to give Gale a big stupid grin. “Hello! Are you a new friend of Astarion’s? He does not get those very often.”

“I’d like to think we’re friends!” Gale replied, and Astarion rolled his eyes. “I’m Gale Dekarios, the new English adjunct.”

Minsc whisked the box out of Gale’s hands as if it were full of feathers. “Very heavy books, Dr. Dekarios!” he said, “heavy books make a strong mind like heavy weight makes strong muscles.” Minsc gave Gale a handshake so firm Astarion was half surprised it didn’t bounce Gale off the ground. “Is pleasure! I am Coach Minsc, I am athletics director of martial arts program.”

“The -ah, the feeling is mutual,” Gale replied, wrenching his hand out of Minsc’s grasp before he broke fingers. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Right!” Minsc lit up and turned back to Astarion. “Xenia came to practice today. Have you talked to her?”

Astarion’s jaw set tight. He was afraid Minsc was here to talk about her. “We haven’t spoken since Christmas.” He said, trying to stay measured. “The last I heard, she wanted to take a leave of absence this semester.”

“Is what I thought to. Her shoulder is still in cast.” Minsc replied. “She says her request to suspend financial aid package was denied. She cannot take break.”

White hot rage surged through Astarion’s body. He tasted iron in the back of his throat. It was far too early in the semester to get kicked out of the dean’s office for causing a scene- but it was also far too early in the semester for this kind of fuckery.

“Who’s Xenia?” Gale asked.

“She is sophomore student,” Minsc replied. “Very bright but very troubled. She had… episode last fall-”

“She can decide if she wants Gale to know about that when she meets him.” Astarion snapped. He loved a bit of student gossip as much as the next bored faculty member, but Xenia was a… delicate case. Astarion had been plenty of students’ favorite professor throughout his career, but very few were ever as vulnerable with him as Xenia was. He handed Gale’s box of office supplies back to him. “I’ll be right back.”

Astarion turned on his heels and headed back to the stairwell. He needed to have very serious -and perhaps explicit- words with whichever authority figure he could corner in their office.

#Mat-write #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bloodweave #bg3 astarion #bg3 gale #bg3 minsc #bg3 shadowheart #ao3 link #professor dekarios

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gannacademy1 · 1 month

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downthepub · 1 year

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i'm not saying Aziraphale doesn't actually love doing prestidigitation because of course he does! it's fun! but being a professional magician is also an excuse to:

wear black

be camp

be ~silly~

have all the attention on him (without being consider prideful)

be acknowledged and appreciated by humans for his "special powers"

(my headcanon is that his act really landed for the audience in the Victorian era and he would give impromptu shows to poor children for free, children who were delighted with the turnip trick, etc.)

(naturally a black suit isn't generally considered appropriate wear for an angel, and aziraphale is nothing if not a good angel! ha ha why would you say that!! but a magician, you see, it's his stock in trade - he has to wear a black suit, a funny little mustache, a white feather boa. this is his professional outfit. professionally!)

#meta #good omens #aziraphale #your honor i love him #<3 #someone just tell him he's doing a good job #thoughts #good omens meta

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celinamarniss · 1 year

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We Can’t Keep Meeting Like This, chapter three, part three. Part one. Part two.

“You folks come from the Core?” Peli asked, looking Mara over and clearly taking stock of the sort of complexion that didn’t last long under the suns of Tatooine.

“I grew up there,” Mara said. “But Skywalker’s a local boy.”

“Skywalker?” Peli exclaimed.

Luke gave her a tight smile. “You can call me Luke.”

“Any relation to Anakin Skywalker?”

The question seemed to take Luke aback. He shot a quick, shuttered glance at Mara that Din couldn’t interpret. “He was my father,” he said.

“No kidding! I used to watch holos of him racing in the Boonta Eve Classic back when I was little sprout! You should have seen that kid fly! There was nothing like it! Did you know they’re still telling stories about that race?”

“No kidding,” Mara said dryly.

“The youngest winner ever, and a human, too! They don’t even let humans race most of the time—we don’t have the limbs for it, you know?” Peli shook her head. “Anakin Skywalker’s kid!”

Luke looked a little nonplussed at Peli’s enthusiastic reaction at first, but as she went on, a smile began to spread across his face.

“I had a complicated relationship with my father,” he said. “It’s nice to hear about the good things he did when he was younger.”

“Well, who doesn’t have a complicated relationship with their dad?” Peli scoffed. Mara made a noise that sounded like a laugh being transformed into a tactful cough.

“He’s not still around, is he?” Peli asked.

“No, I’m afraid not. He died in the war.”

“Ah, too bad. You race too?”

“Not professionally. I used to race a T-16 through Beggar’s Canyon with some of the other local kids, but the Hutt races were outlawed by then.” He shot Mara a half-smile over Grogu’s head. “Sometimes Mara and I join the Ewok swoop races when we’re on Coruscant. She’s a good pilot, too.”

“I’m not a Skywalker, though,” Mara said lightly.

Peli pointed at Luke. “I have just the thing for you. Come ‘ere, you gotta see this.”

Luke tucked Grogu into his side and followed Peli through the workshop. Din shrugged when Mara looked at him, and after a beat, she went after Peli and Luke.

Din fell in alongside her. “What’s an Ewok?” he asked quietly.

“Natives of Endor,” she said, which didn’t tell him much. He knew of the battle of course, but he didn’t know that people lived there. “Small, furry forest people that can strip a speeder of useful parts in under five minutes.”

“Like Jawas?”

She tilted her head, considering. “Not a bad comparison. But I’ve never met a Jawa that cared as much about swoop racing as an Ewok. As soon as you take them off their home planet, they turn into demons for speed.”

“Just wait till you see this,” Peli was saying ahead of them.

Dust rose in plumes as she pulled a grey tarp off what looked like a heap of starship parts. It was a ship, but barely, most of its hull stripped away to expose the machine’s inner works.

“Is that a Nubian starfighter?” Luke asked, sounding impressed.

“Sure is! Commissioned by the queen of Naboo herself. I keep trying to get this one to trade up, but he tells me he’s not interested.”

“I’m not interested,” Din said.

#we can't keep meeting like this #wip weds #wip wednesday

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