#roasting the rhythm section

[firethatgrewsolow]

Dallas, March 4, 1975

If you've ever wondered what "taking the piss" meant, look no further.

"John Paul Jones played mellotron. A very cheap form of orchestration. And he doesn't cost that much to rent, either ... This is a track that features John Paul Jones exercising the fingers and looking rather groovy, as well. He's a croupier in Vegas on his days off ...  But now, for some precision. Now for one of the finest, finest musical sights that you're likely to experience within the next fifteen minutes. And that is, ladies and gentlemen, our percussionist, the man with only two cavities, John Bonham. 'Moby Dick!'"

I could go on and on (and on - Roberto sure does). Have a listen to the boot. It's a fun show, and he’s in fine form. The second Dallas gig is even better.

[cobblestonesummers]

I want bells to be hung on our door…

So that when people enter they can hear them jingle and smile. I want to have a kettle on when they come through. I want the kitchen to be messy, even though I’d just cleaned it, because I got carried away making dinner before they came. I want almost fresh flowers on the mantle, and for guests to study pictures on our walls. I want a piano in the corner that anyone can play, even if they don’t know how. I want autumn scented candles and orange garlands in our windows, and old books resting on our bookshelves. I want a fireplace for stockings and roasting marshmallows when the power goes out. I want a hook in the kitchen for my apron, and a teacup in the bedroom for my rings. I want blankets to be laid across the couches, I want to decorate with sentimental things.

I want you to take your coat off when you come inside, and hang it on the claw-footed coat hanger by the door. I want to see you from the kitchen and ask you how work was, for you to hold me from behind while I finish cooking. I want us to eat at the table and talk about our days and how much time we wasted and remember our mistakes and smile at them. I want us to get lost in conversation until the late night cups of tea and hot cocoa get cold. I want to sit and read together, quietly, while the wood-wick candles crackle on the table, and Beethoven plays from the speaker on the shelf. I want to settle into rhythms, habits, and beautiful things. I want to recognize your patterns, memorize your expressions, fully know and love them all. I want to hear your whispered prayers before you go to sleep, for us to pray together about everything. I want to sit in the kitchen on cold nights with you and talk about what we’re studying.

I want to have people over often. The newlyweds, the neighbors, old friends, new friends, our families, the quiet couple from church hoping to connect. I want to say “make yourself at home, would you like something to drink?” I want to listen to their stories and share some stories of our own. To laugh and cry and pray with them. I want us to be good hosts.

I want to have a hidden bottle of sparkling cider for when your birthday rolls around, for anniversaries, engagements, pregnancy announcements, or promotions. I want our home to be one of celebration.

I want our Bibles to be open on the table while we read together, and underline verses with pens from the junk drawer. I want plants in every window and journals on bedside tables, and letters kept in boxes under our bed.

I want us to watch movies on the weekends and have the ice cream from The freezer and for us to wash the dishes after dinner.

I want to dress up fancy for a night in, have dinner by candlelight, even if there’s not an occasion to celebrate.

But even if I have none of this. Even if it takes years to build it, you are the one I want to build it with. These pieces of perfection take time and such commitment, I’d be happy to commit to them with you. I may have little savings, but I’ve been practicing my baking, my citrus garland making, and I have a teacup we can use for my rings. I don’t have much in terms of money, but your letters already have a home in a little wooden box, our favorite books can fill an old shelf until we find a better one. Breakfast may be oats, and dinner may come from the freezer section, but so long as I have God, and you, and my crafted decorations, I’m confident we’ll make it to these pieces of perfection.

(Photo not mine, credit to owner)

[theretirementstory]

Bonjour tout le monde, oh how beautiful can winter be, this time I actually braved the cold to get this photo it was just too good to miss.

We have had “flocons de neige” , rain, cloud and sunshine but it has also been bitterly cold. Never mind the heating is on and I have been eating better so warm inside and out. I must be feeling better as I have baked, cheese scones, prepared roast dinners, cooked chilli and made a pan of soup.

The weather hasn’t stopped me going to do my shopping although the knitting has been pulling me back to continue with that.

My cleaner came twice this week but is away for the weekend so won’t be with me on Monday. With that in mind I decided to start the jigsaw my friend bought for my birthday. Wow it took me two hours to sort out the edge pieces and try to get those put together. I am sure it will take me until Wednesday to get it all finished so I think it’s a good idea that I have made food, just to be reheated, as the jigsaw will take all my time 😂.

It’s been a mixed emotions week, I was thinking of a friends and family, no longer with us, who would have celebrated birthday’s or who passed away at this time of year. Back to the here and now, it was Anie’s birthday on Friday. I couldn’t get in touch with her so she didn’t get her present until Saturday, fortunately the gerbera I bought on Thursday had remained wonderfully fresh in the car. She invited me for tea and gateau and we had a great time catching up and looking at photos of her holiday in Indonesia. I had made soup so took some for her, along with a couple of mince tarts, coconut slice and stuffed dates. She would like the recipe for the coconut slice so I will send it to her.

Now it’s the music section of the blog and this first record is back to the 1960’s. It’s “Beggin’” by Frankie Valli and The four Seasons, released in 1967. The next song , I would have said is more “up to date”, but as it is actually 23 years old this year I guess it’s still “old” to a lot of people. It is “Whenever, Wherever” by Shakira released in 2001. As someone once wrote “The rhythm of life is a powerful beat, puts a tingle in your fingers and a tingle in your feet”. Let’s hope that’s what these songs do for you each week!

Monique messaged to say she is in hospital, her white blood cell count was very low and she is still in the emergency ward, they will transfer her to haematology on Monday. I am messaging her to keep her spirits up.

“The Photographer” was at Scarborough AFC match on Saturday doing his “voluntary” job. Apparently it was freezing cold and by half time he couldn’t feel his fingers. He did however manage to get some great photos.

“The Trainee Solicitor” has had another busy week (a bit like his mother 😉) plus he had the worst luck in that he had an overflowing toilet (fortunately from the cistern). It’s still a nuisance, I hate leaking water as it can do so much damage! Anyway “Superdad” is hopefully going over today with a new plunger and will fit it, so that the toilet is working again. Another thing he could have done without I am sure!

“The Ex-Graduate” went to take her details to the new job she is due to start around the end of February. She had been out to buy some new work clothes and is looking forward to this new phase of her life. I remember starting my first job, £15 per week, £13 of that into my hand and I thought I was rich! When I left that job nine months later to go to a job that paid £22 (gross) per week I really thought I had arrived 😂.

My grandchildren are with their Mummy this weekend so no “surprise” FaceTime calls.

I haven’t heard from my friends in Bristol and I think once the jigsaw is finished 🙈 I will have to get in touch.

Now it is time for me to have another hot drink and get myself all ready to ………. continue with the jigsaw 😂😂.

It is only 2c here so wherever you are I hope it is warmer than this.

The photo below shows new apartments built at the back of one of the 12th century churches we have in town.

Bon dimanche!

[rastronomicals]

3:20 PM EDT June 25, 2024:

Ray Manzarek - "The Roasted Swan" From the album Carmina Burana (1983)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

IN THE TAVERN Olim lacus

In 1803 a scroll of medieval poems was discovered in the German province of Bavaria among the debris of the secularized monastery of Benedikt-Beuren ("BURANA").

These lyrics, written primarily in Latin, were determined to be the work of renegade monks and wandeing poets of the 13th century. Their words captured the lost world of rebels and dropouts of the medieval clergy, hard lovers, drinkers, on the move, celebrating existence, rather than living the meditative celibate, cloistered life of the monastery.

In 1935 German composer Carl Orff re-discovered the poems. Impressed with their meaning and rhythm he composed a cantata utilizing the centuries-old verses. He transformed the writings into invocations and profane chants accompanied by numnerous instruments and magical representations.

These songs ("CARMINA") were divided into three primary sections. Springtime -- the life force renewed; In the Tavern -- drinking and gambling; The Court of Love -- passion, sensuality. The sections are pervaded and framed by the Wheel of Fortune ("O Fortuna") perpetually turning, perpetually governing the course of man's existence.

In 1983 Ray Manzarek, long attracted to the spiritual power of Carmina Burana, chose to interpret the piece in a contemporary framework. This presentation intends to create enchanted pictures; to conjure up the ecstasy expressed by the lyrics, an enhanced intense feeling for life akin to the passions and revelry of the wandering poets of so long ago.

--

[phinixcoffeeblogs]

Brewing Harmony: Exploring the World of Coffee Blends

In the intricate dance of flavors that is coffee, there exists a realm where beans from different corners of the world come together in a harmonious symphony. Welcome to the enchanting world of coffee blends, where the artistry of blending transcends the ordinary and elevates your coffee experience to a sublime level. In this exploration, we'll delve into the diverse landscapes of coffee origins and unveil the secrets behind brewing the perfect harmony.

The Symphony of Origins

The first note in our coffee symphony begins with the diverse origins of coffee beans. From the lush mountains of Ethiopia to the vibrant plantations of Colombia, each region contributes its unique characteristics to the blend. By combining beans with distinct flavor profiles, coffee blenders craft a composition that tantalizes the taste buds with a melody of notes ranging from fruity and floral to nutty and chocolaty.

The Art of Blending: Crafting a Masterpiece

At the heart of coffee blending lies the artistry of the blend master. These experts, armed with a deep understanding of coffee profiles, meticulously select beans to create a harmonious balance. The goal is to enhance the strengths of each bean while mitigating any potential bitterness or acidity. It's a delicate process, akin to composing a symphony, where every note must resonate in perfect accord.

Roasting: Setting the Tempo

The roasting process is the conductor that sets the tempo for our coffee symphony. A masterful blend requires precise roasting to accentuate the desired flavors. Light roasts dance with floral and citrusy notes, medium roasts showcase a balance of acidity and body, while dark roasts bring out rich, robust undertones. The roaster's artistry lies in finding the sweet spot that harmonizes the diverse beans into a seamless melody of taste.

Grind Size: Precision in Every Particle

The grind size is the rhythm section, ensuring that each particle contributes to the overall harmony. Whether it's a fine grind for espresso, a medium grind for drip coffee, or a coarse grind for French press, the choice influences the extraction and flavor release. Precision in grinding is key to achieving the full spectrum of flavors intended by the blend master.

[theloniousbach]

HANGING OUT AT SMALL’S LIVE, #28: PIANO TRIOS AT MEZZROW’S, 31 DECEMBER 2022-2 JANUARY 2023

JONNY KING with Dezron Douglas and Alan Mednard, 16 DECEMBER 2022

ADAM BIRNBAUM with David Wong and Joe Farnsworth, 15 DECEMBER 2022

EDEN LADIN with Or Bareket and JK Kim, 24 DECEMBER 2022

These sets have been a welcome contribution to the last weekend of winter break and an equally fine looking forward/looking back as I embark on a new jazz year. Looking back to favorite musicians like Dezron Douglas who, like Nicole Glover, has not been as present, him in part because of an electric gig in the Trey Anastasio Band which in just a few weeks puts him in front of more musicians than a year of jazz club gigs. David Wong hasn’t gone away, but I’m always pleasantly reminded how rich and compelling his bass playing is. Joe Farnsworth is not simply reliable, but reliably tasty.

Alan Mednard, especially, but JK Kim too will grow, one hopes, into playing drums with trios at Mezzrow’s. Mednard had a powerful JONNY KING as his leader and Douglas is equally big, but he was a notch too high. King opened with Africa and so replicated not just McCoy Tyner but the big ensemble of Africa/Brass. His Let’s Cool One was also big and busy but lighter. His original was lighter still but still had lots of notes, though he took the ballad solo. But that was a high energy gig.

ADAM BIRNBAUM evidently took the gig on short notice, but who wouldn’t want to play with that rhythm section. Maybe they would have gravitated to familiar tunes anyway, but there was a Thad Jones, Tea for Two, Monk’s Pannonica, and Charlie Parker’s intricate blues Cheryl. The high point though was Twilight Time by his teacher Kenny Barron. It was a moody bossa for Farnsworth to dig into. But great tunes with Birnbaum, last heard doing arrangements of Bach Preludes very nicely, showed again that he does jazz very well. He’s on a more occasional Small’s/Mezzrow’s cycle, but I try to keep my eye out for him.

EDEN LADIN caught my ear at last week’s Itamar Borochov gig, so hearing him in a trio setting helped. He was modal that night for tenor Ben Solomon but would have eagerly dug deeper with Borochov into the Moorish/Mid-Eastern elements had Beirut Blues streamed smoothly. There weren’t those elements in this gig, though I got to hear Or Bareket who was on the Ari Hoenig/Nitai Herskovits recording. He was rich and rewarding. JK Kim was interesting with lots of rhythmic toys to make things not just complicated but often interesting. Ladin opened with a Jarrettish vamp Loop which also served as an outro to the final I’m Old Fashioned which was typically edgy. If Loop served to show that the trio could go in all directions while being unified, Michel Pettruciani’s 13th and Bobby Hutcherson’s Herzog kept the edge while being brighter and more familiar. Mel Torme’s Chestnuts Roasting was obligatory for being on Erev Xmas, but he and the majority of the band is Jewish. At least it’s a jazz tune.

Fine stuff with Birnbaum my favorite. But I am into the New Year with this music.

[greyeyedmonster-18]

(another section from the forever unpublished raising harry AU)

Every day seemed to start the same.

With breakfast, which wasn’t the worst way to start, and it seemed that having a teenager in the house with him was exactly what Sirius needed to remember to leave his bedroom and make breakfast at all. 

Harry woke up early, to Sirius’s surprise, despite what the books he had been gradually combing through said about circadian rhythm and teenagers. Every morning without fail, Sirius would get up and start preparing breakfast, only to have Harry walk through the kitchen, dressed in his oversized, worse-for-wear clothes, shortly after. 

And every day, Sirius would ask do you want to do something?

It became a sort of script, a routine in itself because Harry always shook his head, or if Sirius was lucky the words “no thank you” would appear and dance around the kitchen for the moment.

Sirius had memories of when Harry was a baby, always making noise, always babbling. How Sirius would hold him as he slept, and even then, Harry would let out contented sighs to let Sirius know he was there, alive, happy. Only now, when Harry had more words, Sirius scarcely heard them. 

Then again, Sirius didn’t talk as much as he used to either, his mind running wild with uncertainty wanting to say the right thing, and do the right thing, and asking too many questions that it occurred to Sirius briefly Harry might not know how to answer, only to realize he hadn’t actually spoken any of these thoughts out loud.

Two minds.

One kitchen table.

Not a minute of conversation. 

--

“We can do anything you like, you know.”

“I know, I’m okay, I promise.”

-

“We could go down to the seaside, the water should be the perfect temperature.”

“I don’t have trunks, I don’t think…but I’m alright here.”

-

“You don’t have to just read or stay in your room, Harry. The deck is nice.”

“I’m okay, Sirius, you don’t need to worry about me.”

-

Pulling teeth.

Grasping straws.

Emptying out his pockets, shaking his satchel upside down watching as crumpled receipts and loose coins and hard candies and an extra scarf made its way into the bin, and nothing was left at the bottom. Harry wouldn’t sit outside with Sirius, preferring to flip through magazines or read quietly in the sitting room, occasionally getting up and leaving after Sirius sat down. Harry would make himself scarce, as if trying to disappear in a home that was carved expressly for him. Meals, seemed to be the only time they had with one another, and those went by quickly, Sirius noticing how fast Harry ate his food, how he seemed to guard it with one of his arms, in comparison to Sirius, who ate painfully slow these days. A bite at a time. 

Andy,

I might be rubbish at this whole godfather thing. Does the invitation for dinner still stand?

Sirius.

Sirius,

Less than a week? I’m impressed you snuffed it up with Harry that quickly. Some things never change, love.

The invitation is always there--does Harry like roast chicken? Come for the afternoon. 

Andy

“How do you feel about roast chicken?” Sirius asked as he put down his fork, swallowing a bite of his dinner. Harry picked his head up in mild confusion, looking at his plate that was not full of chicken, and it wasn’t the time of day to be asking about food preferences.

“Er, I like it?”

“Was that a question or an answer?”

“An answer. I’m…this is really good, Sirius. I don’t need a special meal or anything,” Harry assured him, picking up another forkful of rice and putting it into his mouth as if to make a point; prove to Sirius that he meant what he said.

“My cousin wrote me this afternoon. Would you mind if we went to her house for dinner tomorrow night? Maybe for the day?”

“You have a cousin?”

Sirius nodded, smiling, “I have a lot of cousins, this one just happens to be the only decent one. Her names Andromeda.”

“Where…where does she live?”

“London, with her husband. She has a daughter but she’s moved out in her own flat. She might come along for dinner.”

Harrys eyebrows were still knitted together, “Does….she…does she know I’m with you?”

It was almost too similar, the innocuous question. Because Sirius had asked the same one countless times of the Potters when he was sixteen and then seventeen, even into eighteen, and they would be invited over to friends homes or dinners hosted by Potions lab associations for Mr. Potter. Because Sirius was never sure when they received an invitation if it was for three, or four.

It’s alright  if they didn’t know, I can stay here I promise, Mrs. Potter.

“Harry, I wrote her to tell her I had a godson before I even had a house to live in,” he said slowly, “She very much knows and is very happy to have you over.”

“You told people?”

Sirius laughed softly, “When your Dad told me your Mum was pregnant, we went up and down the streets of Diagon Alley and told everyone we passed. Muggle cafes, shops--she wanted to be the one to tell all our friends she was pregnant and actually made James and I wait outside in the hall while she did it. He was terrible at keeping secrets, and I was so excited.”

“Really?”

“Still am excited.”

“...You didn’t walk down the streets telling people again, did you?”

“No, but I could. Would you like that?”

Harry smiled a little looking down at his plate, “No, that’s okay. I’m…alright without all of that.”

“Dinner though? She is a far better cook than I am.

“You’re brilliant.”

“So you can imagine what her chicken will taste like.”

“We can go,” Harry nodded. “What’s…she like?”

“The funniest person you will ever meet,” Sirius picked up a bite of chicken on his plate, “I can bore you with some decent stories from my childhood…”

“I’ve had so much excitement, I think I could stand being bored…” Harry responded and Sirius laughed. “...Will…can I hear one?”

[liyawritesss]

Ｋ／ＤＡ Ｇｅｎｅｒａｌ Ｈｅａｄｃａｎｏｎｓ

Characters: K/DA! Akali J. Tethi, Evelynn, Kai’Sa, Ahri

Genre: Headcanons

Synopsis: My take on the girls of K/DA!!

Warnings: some cursing, mentions of weapons (kunais in akali’s section)

A/N: After being obsessed with Arcane, K/DA has become my new hyperfixation. And I barely see any content for these girls, so I think it’s time we change that.

ᴀʜʀɪ

Material gorl!!!

Ahri isn’t labeled “The Queen” of K/Da for nothing. She has the looks, attitude and aura for it.

I feel like she still has a bit of childlike curiosity to her despite her elegance. Imagine her going shopping and she finds herself in a kids toy store like Build-A-Bear or something, exploring the different kinds of bears and what not

Is legally required to live in the Dior store

Has everyone's starbucks orders memorized to the T, even Evelynn’s despite her purposefully making it so complicated to get a rise out of people.

Her and Evelynn have roast sessions - Ahri once called evelynn ‘mother gothel’ and was then promptly chased around the girls shared condo for 15min straight

She hates the name ‘princess’ because it’s always been used in a condescending tone towards her. She might even curse you out for using it if she’s angry enough

Does a lil happy dance whenever she has her favorite candy, a lil shaky shake in her seat or a wiggle of the hips if she’s standing up.

Has an insane amount of expensive ass loose leaf teas that she drinks on bad days to help herself feel better. A cup of some white tea and a good book near the window while its storming? That’s heaven for Ahri right there.

Legally cannot say fuck, Evelynn will pop her mouth for it

ᴇᴠᴇʟʏɴɴ

She did not sign up to be the surrogate mother of three mentally 5 year old adults

Ready to pop off at any creeps who get too close to the girls. See those claws on her fingers? They’ll go right in your gut, back tf up before you get smacked tf up

Also legally required to live in the Dior store. Scratch that, she OWNS Dior at this point

I feel like she sometimes has a hard time sleeping. Maybe like borderline insomnia or something like that. She wakes up in the middle of the night sometimes, no provocation. In cases like that, she takes to just sitting near the window and looking out at the sky above, thinking.

Can and will steal some of Ahri’s expensive ass tea to relieve her nerves a bit.

Has a very elaborate system for her make up and will scold to death anyone who fucks it up. Her vanity is her own little world and she notices indiscrepancies immediately

Once, Akali saw a new eyeliner that Evelynn bought and wanted to try it out super bad but the other wasn’t home, so she used it and put it back exactly in the right place

But when Evelynn came home to put away her new products, this woman saw that the tube was turned in an off direction and damn near went on a rampage

Akali fessed up quick and got scolded, but by the next day the same eyeliner was set pretty in a little bag on the counter near her plate of breakfast for when the rapper woke up

She made the mistake of letting her curiosity slip abt Akali’s bike, and was instantly dragged to ride it with her. Poor Evelynn was traumatized,

She does have several fast cars but they all had roofs on them, so having the wind whipping against her hair and the pressure of flying against it was very new to her.

She’ll never admit she liked it way more than she let on. Her search history totally doesn’t show searches of brand new motorbikes in jet black and magenta

ᴋᴀɪ'ꜱᴀ

She is always in some kind of movement. Head bobbing, hip swaying, foot taping, you name it, this girl is always on point with her rhythm

This girl is also way too fucking fast for no reason. And quiet with it too!!

Akali remembers walking past the kitchen where Kai’Sa was, plopping herself on the couch, and exactly 10 seconds later Kai’Sa was peering over her shoulder asking what the younger girl was looking at

Poor ‘Kali almost had a heart attack, dropping her phone on her foot in the process

Because of this they often joke about Kai’Sa getting a bell or something to notify people of her presence because if not, they’ll never know where she is and when she’s coming

Kai’Sa is kind of like one of those cats thats been socialized around dogs most of their life, so she’s very quiet and stealthy but also energetic and eager in a sense.

Is an absolute menace in the practice room - strives for nothing but perfection for her and her group members. Mediocrity is not cute to her.

She is constantly studying dancing from different sources, cultures, etc. She’s also always on top of the latest trends on tiktok. She’ll drag Akali and Ahri to do tiktoks with her, and plays harmless pranks on Evelynn and records her reactions to things.

Which gains her playful hits and minor scoldings from the older woman.

Also makes ‘day in the life’ videos and does little skits with the members to different sounds, or to sounds she’s made herself

ᴀᴋᴀʟɪ

Depending on what she was doing the night prior, Akali is not a morning person. She can barely function before noon, much less at 7am when their agency calls for meetings or for early morning practice.

Ahri once knocked on her door to give her breakfast, was met with two loud ass thuds against the door. She opened it to find that on the back were two golden kunais, and on the bed, a very grumpy and sleep deprived Akali with a pillow over her head, practically growling for her to leave

It was her fault, she was up playing League till like 2am knowing damn well she had to be up early as shit, but still!!

Ahri no longer knocks on her door for anything for that particular reason

Sometimes everyone forgets Akali grew up in a dojo, even herself. And then there are times where certain situations make sense given how she grew up. Take the instance above - who in their right mind has literal kunais on their bedside table? Gold kunais, to be exact?

Akali has gotten so confused in response to her fast reflexes, and then remembers growing up in an environment where she was taught to be alert always

Streetwear streetwear streetwear streetwear streetwear streetwear-

Lives for a good sweatset, her closet is practically filled with hella nike and adidas joggers and sweaters. A bit of a sneakerhead as well, has the whole bottom wall of her closet lined with those plastic stackable containers to keep her fresh kicks in

Akali is damn near a master of both her masculine and feminine energies, and hardly gets offended when people try to come for her saying she’s too manly. She has no time for misogyny and fragile egos.

She’s the youngest, the main/lead rapper, and the lyricist of the group - so she sometimes lets the stress get to her. The others comfort her in various ways to let her know she’s doing a good job. She’s still working on balancing work and self care

Random tiktok quotes as fast as she can come up with them. Evelynn has been so close to deleting the app off her phone so many times that it’s a bit embarrassing. Another pair that chases each other around the condo

Overall very chaotic, golden retriever energy from this one. Don't let her get coffee unless you want it to quadruple

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don't be shy to send a request!

[yandere-society]

A Separate Journal

Synopsis: Playing games were your favorite. Although the first 20 years of your life wasn’t all that interesting, right now was going to be the peak. When you thought you finally had a direction to follow after your graduation, life, of course, decided for you to play its game. Do you accept?

Pairing: Namjoon x fem!reader 

Word Count: 2.1k

Headline: 2 Month Search Of Missing Woman Ongoing

Admin: @nomnomsik​

Trigger warnings: yandere-themes, unhealthy obsession and relationships, mentions of manipulation

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Spring. 

People always said spring was the time to freshen up, get outside, and enjoy the slow but upcoming warm weather. It was time to unburrow now that the cold was gone. 

And you had to agree, it was quite nice to not be always shivering in your dinky apartment. Even though the inside was old, indicated by the chipping paint peeling off the walls or the small cracks in the ceiling, it was a safe haven that you had. 

Not to mention that you were not the neatest person in the world. Books of your studies were spread all across your desk, post-its barely hanging onto the side of the table. You thought about “spring-cleaning” your apartment, but you couldn’t find it in your body to finish it through. 

Given the fact that you forget where you place your things, cup and books being the main culprit, you sometimes spend an entire day trying to find them without any luck. But then, like an idiot, you roll your eyes when you find it hiding underneath your papers.

Maybe you should study a little less. 

When you finally sit down at your desk, you flip open to your personal journal, recounting about the day. You continued further by noting about the aspirations you had for the future. You blocked a section of time out each day to jot down a bit, just to record a moment in time during your life. It helped you escape reality, as life continuously put its pressure on your shoulders. 

Paying bills, covering your expenses, working… All while maintaining social relationships with others. You sighed. Sometimes, it would be nice if life was easier. 

The night was still young, your body shaking off the cold air that seeped through the thin walls, as you finally began to write. 

May 12th, 2020

The smell of coffee.

You happened to get your special spot at your favorite coffee shop, resting your laptop against the table that you had all to yourself. Even though you probably should’ve drank caffeine, when Jungkook recommended you to try their newest hot chocolate, you couldn’t pass up the offer.

A cute boy giving you a golden smile? 

You were weak. 

Whenever you took a sip, you looked up to take a glance at the cute barista boy. You happened to figure out quickly that he worked every Thursday evening, fitting perfectly into your schedule. Every Thursday had your body filled with a giddy sensation. 

You stayed late in the shop, enjoying the atmosphere and mood by yourself, finding that you were always more productive in it. It felt nice being able to wish Jungkook a good night whenever his shift was over. 

He would send you a smile and a wave as he walked out the door. But, the feelings of loneliness would seep through as you packed up your things several minutes later, leaving the shop late at night. 

When you walked, you could hear your own footsteps against the sidewalk. The only lights came from the street or the flickering signs of closed shops. 

You were all alone. 

But, sometimes, you would find an unsettling feeling inside you. 

You imagined that were being watched. It was fleeting, then it disappeared and you decided to no longer think about it. 

Because, nobody would care about you in that kind of way. 

»»————-　✼　————-««

It was winter. 

He could see and feel it. The sky was bright white outside, but there was a linger of pale blue. His breath created white puffs of heat that floated in the dry air. His fingertips were tinted a light red as he pressed them into the glass windows. They left his fingerprints as he looked outside in the living room in his apartment. 

When Namjoon turned around, he threw his body lazily on the plush sofa, feeling his body mold into the softness. He stretched his arm to the nearby coffee table, picking up the journal that he had stopped reading for a bit. 

When he looked over, he saw Rapmon running towards him, giving him a few licks on the face then jumping up with him. Cozily snuggled up together, he flips open to his bookmark, barely noticing how his eyes were falling asleep. 

May 19th, 2020

A sigh. 

You stumbled back into your cheap apartment, letting your bag down in a huff. 

Finally. 

You were finally going to be free from this hell-hole. Graduation was approaching, and once you had that diploma in hand, you were running with it. It didn’t matter where, as long as you were far away from here. 

But, of course, today you had to do something embarrassing. You just keep making a fool of yourself everyday. All you wanted to do was enjoy your quiet time in the coffee shop with a drink in hand, but instead, you had to bump into someone else and spill it all over them. 

He was a really good looking guy too, and that just made you even more embarrassed. The guy was so nice about it, cute even, especially when he stumbled his way through the process giving you his number. Normally, you would’ve rejected that kind of advance, but Namjoon, he said his name was, was so kind about your accident. It made your heart weak in the moment when all he did was just smile and reassure you that everything was fine. 

Your face grew hot as you threw your body against your bed. With your head cooling down and lying against the comforter, you turned to stare at the side of your desk. The fluffy scent of softener filled the room as you melted into the plushness. Another sigh escaped your lips as you stood back up. It was already dark outside, your throat was parched and there was nothing in your refrigerator. Why hadn’t you just remembered to go to the store before coming back home?

You scolded yourself mentally as you declared a short shopping expedition. All you were going to get was a 6-pack of water, maybe a midnight snack, popcorn was always your favorite, and come back home. Plus, where even was your cup? You swear you had it this morning. 

You shake your head, overwhelmed by too many problems at once. There was a lot of job searching to be done when you came back, so you didn’t want to waste any time. 

Namjoon closed the book shut, placing it back on the coffee table. When he stood up, Rapmon perked up, a soft swish of his tail knocking into Namjoon’s ankle in a repetitive rhythm. When he walked over to the kitchen cabinets, Rapmon followed behind him, almost as if wondering if it was dinner time yet. But Namjoon just opened each cabinet one by one, scanning the shelves. 

“Nothing, huh…” He murmured. 

Namjoon suddenly chuckled. You always lost your things, but Namjoon always brought them back for you. His favorite parts were reading about how you found something you were looking for, blaming yourself for how forgetful you were. Although, he wished that you somewhat thanked him for helping you those months ago. 

Namjoon walked over to his room, placing the book into a locked cabinet and sealing it with a key. 

He glanced at his watch, grabbing his coat from the closet and slipping both arms through. When Rapmon tried following him out the door, Namjoon chuckled, petting his head. 

“You can’t follow me, silly. Don’t worry, I’ll be back really soon.” 

Then, Namjoon left his building complex, glancing at his phone and following the directions to a nearby coffee shop. He hid his hands into his pockets to keep them warm, humming to himself as he turned the corner. 

When he finally arrived, a bell on the door signaled his arrival as he slipped through. The inside of the shop was warm, the heaters and the roast of coffee adding to the comfy atmosphere. After he got his drink, he took a seat in your spot, remembering the first time he had met you. 

You had no idea of his existence, but it didn’t matter. 

He spotted you so easily like he always did, somewhat irritated this time as he watched you talk with Jungkook like you were having the time of your life. Namjoon brushed it off though. Afterall, he read how much you liked people who were mature, and if there was something Namjoon was confident in, it was his ability to learn. 

Just as you were about to turn around, he had walked forward, ultimately leading to the two of you colliding into one another. Your drink tipped over, spilling slightly over his jacket. As you realized what had happened, you began to apologize profusely, only for Namjoon to charm you and give you his number. 

He’s still proud of that today. The two of you got together a while after that and he stole you away from everyone else. Even if the news flashed of a missing person, Namjoon knows not to delude himself with the “horrors” of the event. You were perfectly safe with him. 

»»————-　✼　————-««

December 1st, 2020

You did it. You made it. 

Everything you could ever want, you had it. 

You scribbled hastily into your journal as Namjoon went out for his weekly stroll. He didn’t know of the existence of this one, but he knew of the others. You knew that he had read them, that he had sneaked his way through your cheap apartment doors and took one, returning it in the morning.

And so, you fed him lies. You never actually held a conversation with the barista in your life, the exception being the day you saw him. You remembered only writing it down because you knew how his feelings would flare when he read it. 

Namjoon didn't know everything about you… You knew everything about him.. You wrote of your type, your feelings, “secrets” that weren’t really true. 

You fed Namjoon so many lies through these journals because all you wanted was the perfect one. After realizing Namjoon was just like you, the excitement in your body almost exploded. 

When you first noticed how his figure followed you on Thursday nights, you started to properly keep your journals. And once one of your journals went missing, you wrote about how clumsy and silly you were once you found it again. 

All of it was a perfectly laid out trap. 

When you realized another went missing and showed up the next day, you barely even mentioned it in writing. Afterall, you were building up an image of how messy you were. Perhaps, Namjoon thought of you as a cute idiot. 

But it didn’t matter now because Namjoon finally became the perfect partner for you. And only you.

Maybe you were a little messed up in the head, but you weren’t that crazy, right? You weren’t hurting him and he too, wanted to be with you. So, why not tell him all the things you liked in a person? He didn’t have to change who he was, but he did it just for you.

If that wasn’t love, love didn’t exist. 

You wrote your final sentence, sealing the book shut and tucking it far back into the darkest corner of your bedroom’s closet. Boxes piled on top of it, and as you shut the door closed, you heard the front door open up. 

He was home. Home to you. 

“Namjoon~” You called, walking over and spotting a plastic bag hanging from his wrist. You peered over it, curiously. “What’s in there?” 

“Oh,” He starts, smiling mischievously. “Take a guess.” 

“No clue.” 

“Just guess,” He laughs, bending down to pat a happy Rapmon to the side. 

“Ice cream.” You state as a matter of factly.

“Popcorn.” He corrects, watching as your eyes lit up and sparkled. 

“Thanks, Joon!” 

You give him a hug as you take the bag with you into your small room, closing the door softly. A hum escapes your lips as you smile to yourself, feeling your face heat up. Perhaps one day Namjoon will discover your ploy, but you remind yourself, does it truly matter when you both feel the same way for each other? 

A grin forms on your lips at the thought of your ambiguous disappearance. You didn’t have to work a day of your life anymore. And a pleasing feeling falls over you as your eyes grow heavy and a small nap takes over. 

You played the game to win the game. 

[ramp-it-up]

Fresh Squeeze, Pt. 6

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x OFC Linden Marshall

Set in 2023, post-pandemic

Warnings: Cursing, Wild Thoughts™️, Angst, Yearning, 18+, Walmart shopping, Anime discussion, Anthony Ramos. Lots of Plot

Word Count: 2.8 K

Plot: Linden Marshall just finished law school at Columbia University in NYC. Daveed Diggs is still creating magic with his platonic life partner Rafael Casal in the form of their Blindspotting musical, Bay Boys. Linden’s boyfriend WAS Mark Monaco, star of the superhero movie series Invincible.  They were together for years, and her trauma and his addictions were toxic. She knows now that wasn’t love. 

A/N: Keep in mind that this the same AU as Arrivals, with Holly Woods, but is BEFORE Rafa and Holly get together. 

Read the previous chapter.

==================

Isabela, Puerto Rico, May 2023

“We are about 30 minutes from our destination. Please stay seated with your seatbelts fastened. The pilot will let you know when it is safe to do otherwise. Enjoy the rest of the flight.”

The flight attendant’s announcement woke up Daveed. He felt warm and happy. And he had you in his arms.

Daveed moved his head down into your curls, and kissed the top of your head., checking to see if anyone was watching. Everyone was knocked the fuck out. 

You had fallen asleep on his shoulder about 45 minutes into the flight after passing around champagne bottles. You were so cute, but he could tell that your neck was gonna be wrecked when you awoke.

Daveed had carefully maneuvered you so that he could pull up the armrest without waking you. You were dead to the world, so you waking up wasn’t a problem. 

Then, he pulled you to his chest, situating the blanket around you two and leaning back.  If he wanted anything from you right now, at the top of the list would be to be able to hold you like this and to show love.

He questioned that word in his mind. Love, really? He did love you, even if it was only as a good friend. But could it be more? Were you ready for that? Was he?

Daveed looked around to see Craig watching him and giving a thumbs up.  No one else noticed, Rafa was on his laptop and he could have sworn that Anthony and Jasmine were doing something nasty under their blanket behind you.  

He settled back into this feeling of being with you and fell asleep too, happy and content.

You woke up to a strange rhythm under your ear. It was a blue covered heartbeat, you recognized as you opened one eye, and it was insistent and hard, yet warm and safe. You shifted, held Daveed’s torso tighter and tried to drift back off. His arms tightened around you in response.

 Then your eyes popped open.

“Oh shit!”  You realized what was going on. You sat up slowly and squinted at Daveed’s smile and his damn low sexy voice. 

“Hey sleepyhead.”

“Hey.”  

You blushed and wiped your mouth. 

“Shit, I’m sorry…” you wiped at his onesie. “I think I drooled all over  your…” 

You didn’t finish the sentence when you glanced at Daveed and caught his eye. 

What you said that night came back to both of you. D’s eyes darkened and he licked his lips. For a minute, you were trapped by the static energy of your attraction. Daveed could do a lot with those lips right now if you’d let him. 

But of course you fought it.

You took a deep breath and sat up, separating from Daveed more fully. You had to get it together. You reached for your phone and checked your face, making sure you weren’t too crusty.

“Practically perfect in every way.” Daveed was watching you.

“That’s your first mistake.” You clicked your camera off. “ Anything that’s perfect isn’t real. Or alive.”  You had learned a lot in therapy.

“Truth.” Daveed looked at you appraisingly. “Such wisdom from a young one.” He leaned close to you.  “That’s why I said, ‘practically.’”  He was staring at your lips, not wanting to give up on meeting them again.

“I’m not a ‘young one.’ I’m thirty in two days.” 

You lifted your chin as a child would do, Daveed noted.  It was appropriate, because you were being stubborn as fuck right now.

He chuckled and stayed close, not letting you off the hook.  

“And I’m 40. I could be your…”  

The timbre of his voice was causing your pussy to vibrate. Holy fuck.

“...Daddy,” you said, huskily.  

You opened your mouth to breathe, as Daveed grunted quietly in his throat. God, you wanted to fuck him. You remembered that you knew how big he was. Your eyes widened and you watched his mouth.

Daveed would teach you about Daddy. He wanted to rail you until your pussy curved to his dick.  Got damn.

Daveed wanted you and you wanted him. It was crystal clear. He began to reach for you under the blanket when the flight attendant’s voice intruded on your vibe.

“We are beginning our descent into Rafael Hernández Airport, please stay seated with your seatbelts fastened and bring your tray tables and seats to an upright and locked position. The temperature is 75 degrees and the current time is 12:47 am.  We should be at our gate shortly. Thank you.”

That’s it. The moment was gone. You reached for your water bottle and took a drink to cool down. You were grateful.

Daveed was frustrated, as he sat back, brought his seat up, but held the blanket on his lap for a little while longer. It wasn’t fair, he almost had you. He closed his eyes. Now he felt like a child.

---------

The crew finally arrived in town around 2 am, after the two hour flight and renting a couple of cars to get to Isabela, a village on the seaside.

Loud music was playing to avoid falling asleep, Rafael driving one car and Ant the other.

Arriving in town, the two cars headed straight to the Walmart to get some food and things. It was almost 2 am, but everyone was re-energized and playing around, glad to be free for the time being on the island.

Daveed had to concentrate to read the titles in the video section.  His mind kept going back to the moment on the airplane.  But he vowed not to chase you up and down this island. He didn’t want to crowd you.  It had to be your decision.

You had to come to him. And  the thought of you made him want to cum. He’d have you to think about in the shower tonight, or today, whatever.

He needed to stop thinking about it.

Daveed was looking for Black Dynamite to watch in the condo in case it rained. He knew better than to think that Walmart had it, but he tried anyway.

He did see Afro Samurai tho… He picked it up as Rafa approached him with a toy xylophone and a big grin.

==================

Puerto Rico did something to all of you. It was like some weird no inhibitions pollen or something. When you stepped off the plane you decided to not overthink shit. You were just going to respond naturally, fuck the consequences.

This was your weekend, after all.

You walked into the entertainment section and heard some vaguely familiar music. As you got closer, you realized what it was.

Daveed was in the book section rapping “Rubber Duckie” as Rafa played a toy xylophone.

I got my rubber duckie

I'm in the tub with bubblies

He isn't very fuzzy

I know my duckie loves me

Call up my homie Ernie,

You know the orange one, ya heard me

D was going in, being silly and laughing with his bestie. He was fucking adorable.  You grinned at them and turned down the dvd aisle.

“I can’t believe they don’t have Cowboy Bebop.”  

You shook your head as Daveed and Rafa walked up and flanked you at the display, a shopping cart by Daveed’s side.

“It’s a classic.  Children will be referencing the War on Titan and it's after effects a hundred years from now."

Rafa just nodded and stroked his chin, having enough sense to be quiet.

“Wait, Attack on Titan is right here Lindy…” Daveed reached for a dvd and held it up in front of you.

Rafa shook his head and covered it with his hand.

"Spike Spiegel wasn't in Attack on Titan.  That's an entirely different anime series, my dude." 

The sardonic wit in your voice. Daveed just nodded, face on the floor, and put the blu ray down.

You squinted at what D had in his hand. 

"Afro Samurai is 20 years old as well.  You know that and not Cowboy Bebop? You put shame on your house. Old Man.”

You gave him a sexy grin and sauntered away shaking your head.

Rafa had been watching the scene, head on a swivel. All he had to say after you left was, “Boom. Roasted.” 

Daveed just chuckled, surprised and exhilarated at the same time. It seemed that you were up to letting loose a little bit.

He looked at Rafa who just watched Daveed falling. He couldn’t catch him this time.

"Man. Tonight looks like the beginning of an EPIC weekend,” Rafa said as he pushed some more dvds into Daveed’s cart.

Then he pulled a pack of Magnum XLs off the shelf that he had been hiding under his arm from you.

Daveed looked at him. Rafa stared back.

“What?  All these beautiful women on this island. I’m not gonna be unprepared or take any chances.”

Daveed shook his head, grimaced and looked around to see where you went, but you were nowhere to be found.

----

You were busy eating some Hot Cheetos that you’d grabbed on the chip aisle and were turning down the candy aisle when you saw Grumpy Care Bear standing there with a basket full of food, dvds and shit, looking at some sour patch kids.

"Oh hell,"  you said as you turned right back around.

"Ay, yo.  Lindy. You can get your candy. I'm not going to assault you with my inferior anime knowledge."

He laughed that sexy laugh and held up his hands. He sort of regretted calling you back because you walking away...Damn. Even in the Pikachu onesie.

Daveed continued to hold up his hands to show he didn't intend any harm, a smile on the lips that were your weakness earlier.  Fuck me, you thought.

You smiled back at him and went for the Jelly Bellys. You crunched loudly on your Cheetos as you clocked him out on the low. You felt bad. A little. 

"Look, I'm sorry about that in the dvds.  I'm just passionate about what I like."

Daveed wondered if you liked him. Like liked him liked him. He allowed himself to go there. 

You sucked the Cheeto dust off your fingers and it was making D feel some kinda way as he watched your fingers go in and out of your mouth. His eyes began to slide down your body.

He needed to stop. Daveed cleared his throat and looked at your face.

"No problem. I get it. It's all good." 

Diggs unconsciously licked his lips and grinned, causing you to stare for a second at his casual hotness. This couldn't continue. You frowned.

Daveed sensed the change in mood, grabbed his Sour Patch kids and backed away.

“I’ll leave you to it.”

That was a close call you thought as you felt some weird pang of disappointment at him leaving. But it was what it was.

Soon enough, you all left the store.  Rafa stole some of your Jelly Belly’s. You just handed over the pack to him and pulled out some more. You were prepared.

==================

When the crew finally got to the house, you dropped your bags and ran to the beach, celebrating four days of freedom from work, acting, fame, fortune, and expectations.

After a few minutes of staring at the waves, y’all made your way back up to the house.

When you walked in before Jazzy turned the lights on, you recognized a large dark expanse which seemed to be the back wall. As your eyes got adjusted, you noticed the white rolls of the waves on the shore. 

The back wall was floor to ceiling glass.  When the lights came up, it turned into a mirror and 6 characters in onesies stared back at you.

You were at the back of an open concept space with a huge u-shaped sectional sofa and a beautiful, big kitchen with a bar.

Daaaammmmmmnnn! This place is gorgeous!  Craig’s mouth was hanging open. You reached over and closed it.

“Welcome to our home away from home!” Anthony was bleary eyed and smiling wide. 

He pointed to the right of the house.

“Me and Jazzy’s room is over there,” he then pointed to the right of the house. 

“The birthday girl’s room is opposite over there, a mirror of the master,” then he pointed to the back of the house behind you and to the right,  “and the other four bedrooms are here.” 

Ant started pulling their luggage toward their room, talking over his shoulder. 

“Everybody gets their own room, even me, when I fuck up.” 

All of you cracked up laughing whole Jasmine nodded her head.

It was almost 4 am, so you all were tired.  You gladly pulled your suitcase to your room, feeling grateful and warm for being the guest of honor of your friends.  Your room was the bomb.

You walked into a spacious room with bamboo wood floors,and exposed wooden beam ceilings and several floor to ceiling windows.  There was a huge fluffy white rug under a comfortable king sized bed in the middle of the room. 

Two uniquely designed bamboo lounge chairs and white pillow ottomans faced a window where you could look through and see the pool and beach.

It was a luxury get away and right now, all you wanted was a shower and the bed.

You put your suitcase on the floor and got down and opened it.  You shook your head at what you saw.

“HOLY FUCK GOT DAMN SHIT!!!!”

Daveed, Craig and Jasmine came running at your screams.  Rafa and Ant were behind.

“What happened.”

You were embarrassed. But so irritated.

“Craig. You got the wrong suitcase.  This is Mark’s shit that he never came to get.  None of my clothes are here.  I have nothing to wear.”  You felt like crying.

“I’m sorry Lindy, you said that your summer clothes and bathing suits were in the rolling soft Louis bag…”

I mean the large one. This is the medium one. It’s okay, Craig.

“You have nothing to wear hunh?”

Daveed was smirking at you and you ignored it, crossing your arms and tapping your foot.

“But it’s perfect!”  You looked at Jasmine and her chipper British accent.

“We can go shopping for your birthday tomorrow. Treat yourself!”

You couldn’t help but smile at Jazzy’s happiness. She was right. Rafa and Ant went away and left y’all to that talk. Daveed was glued to his spot.

“OOooooh. Good Idea.” Craig was in. 

“Ok.I’m tired as fuck. I just wanna shower and sleep now. I’ll not need anything tonight.

Daveed couldn’t get the image of you in the shower and naked in bed out of his head now. He cleared his throat.

“I can give you something to wear shopping tomorrow, Lindy.”

His voice was soft.  You smiled at him and he was a goner.

“Man, you are like three times bigger than she is?”  Jasmine didn’t understand.

“Hold up. Are you willing to sacrifice, D?  Can we cut up one of your t-shirts and jeans?”

Daveed felt pain. The only t-shirts he had were Oaklandish.  

“Let’s compromise. You can cut my jeans all you want, but not the shirt.”

Craig smiled wide.  “Deal, if you throw in a belt.”

“Damn, Diggs…” was all that Jasmine said, smiling and shaking her head.

“Thank you Daveed. I appreciate it.” You were blown away.

Daveed played it off. “No problem…” And then he just turned around and walked out of your room.

“Girlllllllll!!!!”  Craig and Jasmine squealed at you and it took you a minute to get them out of your room.

You walked into the en suite bathroom and marveled at its beauty. It was large, with a huge tub and a walk in glass encased shower with an overhead waterfall  shower head. 

You turned on the shower to get it hot, stripped off your onesie and your underwear, wrapped yourself in a towel and went back into the bedroom.

You stopped short, because there was Daveed standing in your room, clothes in hand.

He had immediately gone to find his least favorite jeans and the Oakland shirt that would suit you the best.  He decided that you would look beautiful in blue.

You just in a towel was a sight to behold. He was sure that underneath that towel was paradise.

You stared at each other for a minute, Your eyes were glued to his.  

“Th-thank you again Daveed.”  He couldn’t discern if your hesitant, sexy voice was for him or from embarrassment.

“Sorry, I…. didn’t think you’d be… sorry.” He put his hands up and backed out of the room.

“Daveed.” You called, softly. “Stop.”

You approached him with a smile on your face. Daveed’s eyes were wide, not knowing what was going to happen.

“Thank you. I mean it.”

You stood on your tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, your lips lingering. Daveed closed his eyes and fought the urge to grab you and hold you close to him.

“You’re welcome.” His smile wrinkled his eyes as he smiled down at you. 

“Goodnight, Linden. Have sweet dreams for me.”

You just stared at him as he turned and left the room.

Daveed was just outside your door when he heard your reply.

“Yes, Sir.”

==================

Read the Next Chapter.

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[trendeeview]

Hamlet Plot Structure

Hamlet Plot Structure. Discovered first by a pair of watchmen, then by the scholar horatio, the ghost resembles the recently deceased king hamlet, whose brother claudius has inherited the throne and married the king’s widow, queen gertrude. Hamlet and his problems “so far from.

Study Aristotle’s Poetics and his theory about Plots and Shakespearean from bhattlajja031314.blogspot.com

Identifies the time and place and main characters are introduced. Shakespeare develops the plot of his “revenge” tragedy in classical form. In the process, everyone is destroyed.

Source: www.slideserve.com

The king of denmark has died and his wife, gertrude, has married his brother, claudius. Laertes returns from france enraged that his father was killed, rises up and threatens to take denmark, they make the revenge plan.

Source: www.pinterest.com

Hamlet becomes upset that his childhood friends were called under the king and queen's The basic structure of the plot of hamlet is remarkably simple;

Source: www.slideshare.net

We'll give you two choices for the climax: In denmark, the former king has died and a group of soldiers tell his son, prince hamlet, that they saw his ghost.

Source: sites.google.com

He also begs his friend. Shakespeare develops the plot of his “revenge” tragedy in classical form.

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Hamlet makes sure that claudius is guilty and accidentally kills. Hamlet makes plans to test the kings conscious, the murder of gonzago play occurs, hamlet roasts ophelia.

Source: www.slideserve.com

A quick overview of what happens in the plot of hamlet. In denmark, the former king has died and a group of soldiers tell his son, prince hamlet, that they saw his ghost.

Source: aflam-neeeak.blogspot.com

View hamlet.docx from ta 401 at brigham young university, idaho. The basic structure of the plot of hamlet is remarkably simple;

Source: gnomestew.com

The ghost of his father appears to hamlet, informs him that he was poisoned by claudius, and commands hamlet to avenge his death. The basic structure of the plot of hamlet is remarkably simple;

Source: www.slideshare.net

This hamlet summary deals with the plot, and can be used as a reference for what happens in the play. A wrong occurs and the hero seeks revenge to make it right.

Source: bhattlajja031314.blogspot.com

If you're looking for fun ways to discover more about the plot of hamlet while learning at home, take a look at our activity toolkit. Identifies the time and place and main characters are introduced.

Source: prezi.com

This section sets the action in motion in three main rhythms: Like most of shakespeare's plays, the act divisions of later editions of hamlet have little relation to the play's structure, and there is no break between some scenes.

Source: virtualgregd.blogspot.com

Hamlet makes plans to test the kings conscious, the murder of gonzago play occurs, hamlet roasts ophelia. Shakespeare develops the plot of his “revenge” tragedy in classical form.

Source: www.untpikapps.com

Hamlet includes all five elements of the basic plot structure: Laertes, before he dies, made another confession to hamlet of his part in the plot and tell him the claudius is responsible for gertrude’s death.

Source: www.slideshare.net

He also begs his friend. It's also the first action hamlet actually takes.

Source: www.shmoop.com

This hamlet summary deals with the plot, and can be used as a reference for what happens in the play. On a dark winter night, a ghost walks the ramparts of elsinore castle in denmark.

Source: www.slideserve.com

Hamlet learns his father was poisoned by his uncle, who has usurped the throne. After all, this is the point when hamlet definitively knows that claudius is guilty;

Source: www.youtube.com

The basic structure of the plot of hamlet is remarkably simple; On a dark winter night, a ghost walks the ramparts of elsinore castle in denmark.

Source: www.untpikapps.com

Discovered first by a pair of watchmen, then by the scholar horatio, the ghost resembles the recently deceased king hamlet, whose brother claudius has inherited the throne and married the king’s widow, queen gertrude. When horatio and the watchmen bring prince.

Source: www.untpikapps.com

A wrong occurs and the hero seeks revenge to make it right. Hamlet makes plans to test the kings conscious, the murder of gonzago play occurs, hamlet roasts ophelia.

Source: es.scribd.com

He also begs his friend. In the process, everyone is destroyed.

The Basic Structure Of The Plot Of Hamlet Is Remarkably Simple;

Hamlet is ‘hamlet’ artistic failure? The protagonist of hamlet is prince hamlet of denmark, son of the recently deceased king hamlet, and nephew of king claudius, his father's brother and successor. On a dark winter night, a ghost walks the ramparts of elsinore castle in denmark.

Hamlet Makes Plans To Test The Kings Conscious, The Murder Of Gonzago Play Occurs, Hamlet Roasts Ophelia.

Hamlet and lear are the only two of shakespeare’s tragedies with double plots. If you're looking for fun ways to discover more about the plot of hamlet while learning at home, take a look at our activity toolkit. A wrong occurs and the hero seeks revenge to make it right.

Hamlet Learns His Father Was Poisoned By His Uncle, Who Has Usurped The Throne.

Before he dies, the throne should pass to the prince fortibras of norway, declares hamlet. Hamlet makes sure that claudius is guilty and accidentally kills. Hamlet makes plans to test the kings conscious, the murder of gonzago play occurs, hamlet roasts ophelia.

Essays On Poetry And Criticism.

The king of denmark has died and his wife, gertrude, has married his brother, claudius. King hamlet is dead, hamlet arrives, the ghost appears and calls revenge. In terms of production, hamlet has three major movements:

The Ghost Of His Father Appears To Hamlet, Informs Him That He Was Poisoned By Claudius, And Commands Hamlet To Avenge His Death.

The basic structure of the plot of hamlet is remarkably simple; Hamlet includes all five elements of the basic plot structure: .] the story of polonius’s family works analogously in hamlet.

hamlet, plot, structure

[apollosvotive]

PETRICHOR — PROLOGUE 

the last he sees of nataliya

also available on wattpad here

(in continuation)

Kursick is a grey town. Dump town. Dull and morose. An air of sickness hovers over everything in an ever-present shroud. Houses are dirty and squat and made of crumbling brick, slumped against each other as if huddling for warmth against the cold too. Everything around them acts as a reminder of how depressing this town is. Dead trees, black leaves, the ground steeped in shit and piss. No wall is ever too pristine to be fully white. Even the snow that descends lightly around them is tinged grey with a polluted quality to it.

At this age, Nataliya is smart and sharp. She’s a pair of beady black eyes darting back and forth, scanning her surroundings and drinking in information. As much as he hates to admit it, she’s the backbone of the two of them. She’s the reason for their escapades’ success, the sole cause for their survival. It’s been a few months since they’ve settled into this rhythm, uncertain at first, then slowly growing steady as they acclimatize to the newness of each other’s presence. They steal together and flee together. They split the profits of their latest raid between them equally and revel in the flush of their victory. They’re good together, able to match each other without much effort. Quick and efficient like a good set of hands. But for all the time he’s spent with her, Nataliya remains an enigma, shrouded in mystery. The inner workings of her mind are a puzzle. She’s a tough read, or not a read at all, and Thomas has always prided himself on knowing what people want.

“Here,” she signals. The two slink across the street, the cover of night protecting them like a cloak. The only source of illumination is a street lamp emitting an orange glow. The streets are empty, save for the stray vagabond who clutches a coarsely cut knife in his hand threateningly.

The house belongs to a military officer from the city center, Azus, who is stationed in Kursick to monitor the ruined village, no doubt another out of the hundreds of men populating the rich capital with an overabundant belly and grubby fat fingers. He stands in a long line of victims. Anyone from Azus who comes to Kursick are buffoons. They’re essentially positioning themselves like low-hanging fruit in the reach of a town full of ravenous people, just waiting to be plucked. While the people of Kursick stole and fought and killed for something to sustain themselves, these officials lined their tables with roast chicken and attested to their generous helpings of food with their big potbellies.

It is important that they do this. It is important that they take from the selfish and the privileged. The city people are scoundrels to allow them to survive like this, cold and haggard and starved to the bone, while they drape themselves in tapestries made from finer material that people from this town could ever imagine. Stealing from them is an act of vengeance that barely paid a morsel of the price.

East Kosenyka is the affluent neighbourhood. It’s a gated estate with houses built on either side of a road that stretches throughout the plot of land. It opens at a metal gate, where a guardhouse is situated. The street is heavily surveilled, which is why hardly anyone tried to steal anything from the residents here. It’s only Nataliya who looked at the gold window of light from where they crouched in the dark one day, with a look in her eyes that told him the plan was already forming in her head. Turns out that that plan was the thing that would feed them better than anyone ate in this stupid town. This time, though, it seems that there is an entire battalion parked outside the street. It has to be someone important, then. Nataliya narrows her eyes.

In this distance, Thomas can see several more soldiers pacing outside a house. The lights in the house are all switched off.

“What the fuck is this?” Thomas hisses. In all their time spent raiding, he’s never seen such security for a single official before. “How do we get in like this?”

Usually, they will scale the gate to get into the neighbourhood, but they can’t now.

“There has to be a way in.”

Nataliya scrubs a hand through her hair in frustration. It’s black and cropped at her shoulders. Thomas remembers when it used to be long. They were on another one of their righteous escapades, just about to slide through the cracks of the estate and escape, when the end of her hair got caught on the gate. Without a moment’s hesitation, she sheared the entire lock of hair off with a paring knife. There was no emotion in her eyes.

Thomas swears. “Damn it, Nat. I’m fucking starving.”

“Shut up, Thomas. I didn’t say there wouldn’t be food tonight.”

Nataliya stalks off in the opposite direction. Thomas trails behind her. They circle the perimeter of the street, careful to remain hidden. The moon hangs like a silver orb in the sky. He wishes it didn’t. The night isn’t potent enough. It’s not dark enough to keep them hidden. Plus, it doesn’t help matters that the entire city center’s supply of soldiers has been emptied out in this street, right in front of the house they are going to rob. Anxiety prickles in him, flooding his senses.

“Nat. Nat,” Thomas snaps. “We shouldn’t. It’s too dangerous.”

Nataliya’s back portrait doesn’t falter. The cadence of her footfalls still goes strong. “We can find a blindspot. I know we can.”

“We can starve for a night.”

A sigh. “It’s not about that. Didn’t you hear when we were in the marketplace this morning?”

“What about?”

Thomas tries to recall the moment but can only remember the gloss of a green apple staring back at him. He was ravenous then. He’s ravenous now.

Though he can’t see her, he can imagine her shaking his head.

“There’s a new king. Military officials are going to be sent back for the coronation. No one’s going to be coming to Kursick for a while. And in between everyone fighting for the apples in the orchards and the food in the shophouses, I already know there’s going to be a food shortage. We need to gather a supply of food now.”

“We can steal the reserves from the apple orchards now. We don’t have to steal from here.”

“It’s apples,” Nataliya says. “We’re gonna rot in between the time in next official comes. Think about it, Tommy. Rich chicken breast, sweetcorn, sugar bread. Don’t you want that kind of feast again?”

Thomas can feel himself salivating, but dread pools in his stomach. “If we get caught, they might kill us.”

“They won’t.” Nataliya sounds so sure, Thomas wants to believe her. Because if there is one thing that he has learned about her during the course of their time together, it’s that he should put all his faith in her and trust that she knows better than him. She has never failed them and she wouldn’t now. She has always been the smarter out of the two of them. He remembers their first encounter —the feeling of his father’s meaty fist curled into the fabric of his shirt, holding him over the water before letting him plunge in. He thought that that was it for him, the end of a sorry life of an insignificant boy, but before he could even comprehend what was going on, he felt himself rising to the surface and being dragged to the bank. Once he finished shuddering and gasping and spewing out water, he found himself staring into curious black eyes. His first thought went to organ harvester. It was not that uncommon. Many people might have seen a scrawny, helpless kid and thought to make some use out of him, but she just fought away his hostile hands and patiently fended off his bite. When the fight finally seeped out of him, they’d stared at each other with a kind of uncertainty and a knowing that this, this thing between them, was something that did not belong in a place like Kursick.

They walk until Nataliya stops in her tracks. She’s looking at the back of the estate, where a young soldier fumbles with his rifle. In total, there are three soldiers along the perimeter. Two at either ends, and the young one, squarely in the middle. He’s standing in front of their usual entrance, the section of loose bricks which they have come to find with detailed scouting will give way with a slight push. The young soldier is still pockmarked, with the faintest trace of hair at his chin. He carries the rifle like he still doesn’t know how. This time, Thomas knows what Nataliya is thinking without her having to say it aloud first.

“Distract the other two,” Nataliya tells him. “I’ll deal with that one. After that, join me through the hole. I’ll wait for you at the entrance.”

Thomas makes a noise of assent.

“Done and dusted,” he replies, and slinks away to the side of the street. Neither of them looks back at the other.

Heart thumping a lopsided rhythm against his chest, he picks up a rock and dashes it across his skin. The stinging pain follows more as an afterthought. He’s weathered worse. A rivulet of blood leaks out from the gash. He composes himself. Then he bursts out of the undergrowth, yelling: “HELP! HELP ME!”

There are sounds of a rifles being cocked. So many shutters all at once, like a flock of birds taking flight. He collapses onto the ground, holding out his bleeding hand for everyone to see.

“There’s a wild boar chasing me. Help me, please!”

He keeps yelling until he’s sure it reaches the four corners of this street. There’s the heavy sound of footfalls as soldiers run over to see the commotion. The line of soldiers along the back of the estate draws nearer to him as planned. Thomas doesn’t dare look up. He keeps his eyes trained on the ground because he’s sure if he does so, he’ll see a million gun barrels pointed at him and his stomach will go lurching. He just hopes Nataliya makes it in.

Cold metal forces his chin up. He has to open his eyes. The stern visage of a soldier is outlined in silver in the moonlight. This is a soldier from the city center. Azus’ own army. He hates them. He hates them so much, though they are generally harmless. They’re the claws of a buffoon king, a fat man who has grown complacent and idle on top of the throne while his kingdom withers, and so it comes as no surprise that the army has all the efficiency of its leader. They’re all bark and no bite. Usually they will make fun of him, shove him around, spit on him, but in the end let him go more or less in one piece, because even for the luxurious city center the morally decrepit place is masquerading as, they still have appearances to upkeep. The life of a small Kursick boy is still a life, no matter how insubstantial.

But this night a red beret rests atop the soldier’s head, a new addition. Realisation dawns on Thomas. The new king and his army. This is completely different threat they were used to dealing with.

“What do we have here? A street rat?”

The man’s voice is slow and rumbling, like a thunderstorm.

“Please, sir, help me. I was searching for food in the forest when a wild boar started chasing me.” Thomas clutches his injured arm harder for emphasis.

The soldier smiles. It’s horrifying. Skin pulls away to reveal a set of gleaming white teeth. He looks like he’ll eat Thomas alive. A sudden flood of regret fills him. He should have just insisted to Nataliya that they leave. Now the bad feeling is real and alive, beating inside Thomas like a second heart. He needs to get Nataliya out of there. This is far more than either of them anticipated.

“Look at the poor boy,” the soldier murmurs. “He can barely help himself. This is why I hate Kursick. No one can seem to fend for themselves. Always complaining about how the capital doesn’t feed them when they don’t even want to do the work themselves.”

Thomas opens his mouth to respond, but a dull thwack across his jaw sends his mind ringing. The force of impact is so great and filled with such brute strength that death flashes before his eyes. This is not the first time he’s experienced this, in fact he’s well-acquainted with it by now, but it still sends adrenaline coursing through his veins. His heart batters against his chest furiously. His vision blacks out for a split second, and it returns just to catch a glimpse of gold before it flickers out of view. The soldier signals to another soldier. “Get him out.”

With only those words, he’s picked up by his arms and thrown out at the front of the street. Pain explodes on his body. His shoulder joints pop and squeal. The thought of Nataliya pulsates frantically in his mind. The moment he lands in the dirt, he sprints back to the spot where he and Nataliya stood minutes ago to find the young soldier standing the same way they find him, still pacing about with uncertainty. Thomas turns his eyes up to the house they are protecting, where a single light that wasn’t turned on a few minutes ago now is.

If he knew this is the last time he will be seeing Nataliya, what would he have done? It will be months of waiting by their usual spots, of surveying the crime scene over and over till there’s nothing more to make out of it, of sitting by the freezing lake waiting for her familiar presence to make itself known to him before he finally understands that she’s never coming back. In time to come he will find out she’s right. Food will turn scarce and everyone will be fighting, man against man for that last apple in the orchard. There will be nights when Thomas will circle the perimeter of East Kosenyka but will never actually steal from them again because it’s simply not the same without her. He will grow cold and hungry and alone. Not that he wasn’t these things before, but it’s just that there used to be the warmth of her presence, her always-there presence, to stave them out of his mind. He will have nowhere to go. Home has nothing but fire and fury and bloody fists. He will press up against the dirty cinderblock, shivering and alone, feeling like a stranger in the only place he has known as home. But it won’t always be like this. He shouldn’t underestimate the lengths that his honed survival instinct will bring him to. In time he will come to love this place, this terrible, shoddy town, like a parent learns to love the face of an ugly child. He will learn what it means to survive and what one will do. Kill or be killed. It will come to be the thing which he finds the most true in this world and the governing principle of his life. He will learn to make a name for himself. He will adapt to the loss of an important limb — the most important limb — and traverse through the grey snow with ease as if he has never lost something crucial to him. He will never think of Nataliya again. Never, except in his moments of piercing sobriety, which he finds will be incredibly rare, when he is held ransom to his wandering thoughts.

But for now he is thirteen and stupid and cold. Always cold. It occurs to him that the last he sees of her is her back. Her small, scrawny frame, the dogged set of her shoulders, the jagged crop of her dark hair. The portrait burns its way into his memory forever.

taglist: @noloumna @cinnamonboba-writes @apricotwrites @atbwrites (ask to be added or removed)

[rastronomicals]

11:52 PM EDT March 16, 2024:

Ray Manzarek - "The Roasted Swan" From the album Carmina Burana (1983)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

IN THE TAVERN Olim lacus

In 1803 a scroll of medieval poems was discovered in the German province of Bavaria among the debris of the secularized monastery of Benedikt-Beuren ("BURANA").

These lyrics, written primarily in Latin, were determined to be the work of renegade monks and wandeing poets of the 13th century. Their words captured the lost world of rebels and dropouts of the medieval clergy, hard lovers, drinkers, on the move, celebrating existence, rather than living the meditative celibate, cloistered life of the monastery.

In 1935 German composer Carl Orff re-discovered the poems. Impressed with their meaning and rhythm he composed a cantata utilizing the centuries-old verses. He transformed the writings into invocations and profane chants accompanied by numnerous instruments and magical representations.

These songs ("CARMINA") were divided into three primary sections. Springtime -- the life force renewed; In the Tavern -- drinking and gambling; The Court of Love -- passion, sensuality. The sections are pervaded and framed by the Wheel of Fortune ("O Fortuna") perpetually turning, perpetually governing the course of man's existence.

In 1983 Ray Manzarek, long attracted to the spiritual power of Carmina Burana, chose to interpret the piece in a contemporary framework. This presentation intends to create enchanted pictures; to conjure up the ecstasy expressed by the lyrics, an enhanced intense feeling for life akin to the passions and revelry of the wandering poets of so long ago.

--

[rushingheadlong]

The Hazier Days - A Queen gen fic

Summary: It’s too hot for embarrassment as Brian finally caves to the summer heat.

Wordcount: ~1,600

Tags: Non-reader fic, no pairing/gen, some minor body image issues… otherwise just lots of soft fluff

Notes: Listen it’s barely above freezing where I live and I’m coping by writing summer fic do not judge me for this. If anything blame @tenderbri​ for putting the idea of 70s Tank Top Bri into my head in the first place.

Summer is bearing down on London, the weather turning from pleasantly warm to uncomfortably sweltering in the blink of an eye.

Brian spends his days working on his thesis research in labs barely cooler than the city outside, slowly boiling in jeans that stick to his legs and shirts unbuttoned a hair past what should be respectable in an academic setting. It’s hardly cooler at night, even with the old windows in his flat propped open and fans blowing stale air around the room, but at least Brian can strip down to his pants in the privacy of his own home. That, at least, is better than the nights where they have shows and Brian is forced into one-too-many layers as a concession to Freddie’s taste in fashion, leaving him soaked through with sweat and light-headed from dehydration by the time he finally stumbles off the stage.

Evenings, though, are spent here, in the windowless practice room in some forgotten corner of Imperial College as Queen spends hours upon hours in rehearsal. Their efforts are paying off, and with the addition of John their little group is finally coming together in a way that almost feels unreal - but Brian still wonders, sometimes, what he’s doing here, what he hopes to get out of all of this, when his focus should be on his doctorate…

Tonight, though, the only thing weighing Brian down is the slowly climbing temperature in the room, not guilt over his unfinished dissertation or anxieties over the inevitable fight with his father if Brian decides to set aside his studies. The summer heat sinks into his body, leaving his thoughts lazy and his limbs leadened, only his fingers moving as he plucks out an absentminded tune on his Old Lady, the beginnings of a song coming through with each repetition of the notes.

“That sounds lovely,” Freddie says.

His fingers comb gently through Brian’s hair, a soothing gesture that’s almost enough to put Brian to sleep. Across the room Roger and John are working out some fine detail of the rhythm line in the song they’ve been trying to perfect for the last few days, and Freddie had used the small break in practicing to offer to braid Brian’s hair to get the heavy mane off his neck.

On a normal - or at least a cooler - day Brian might have demured, embarrassed by his frizzy hair that doesn’t quite know what to do with itself now that he’s not aggressively straightening it every day. But it’s too hot for embarrassment and Brian had ultimately agreed rather quickly, taking a seat on the floor in front of Freddie’s chair to give the singer full access to Brian’s hair.

“It’s something,” Brian says. He plucks the same note a few times - something sounds off about it, his guitar gone slightly out-of-tune in the heat of the room, but he doesn’t feel particularly inclined to fix the issue at the moment.

Even speaking takes far too much effort, Brian’s words coming out soft and almost mumbled as he struggles to think of anything other than how hot he is. He conceded to the heat and wore shorts to the studio, baring his knobbly knees and too-long legs to the world rather than roast in a pair of jeans. His shirt is almost fully unbuttoned and hanging open and loose over his chest, the sleeves rolled up past his elbows, and still Brian feels like he’s going to melt into a puddle here on the practice room floor.

“Well, I like it.” Freddie sections out Brian’s thick hair, nimble fingers weaving the strands together into a simple braid and tying off the end with a stolen hair tie. “There. How’s that feel?”

Brian reaches back and touches the braid, running his fingers along the length, feeling the spots where his hair is already fighting to escape its woven confines. Brian wonders what it looks like, and then decides that maybe he’s better off not knowing. “Good. Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome,” Freddie says. “Although…” Freddie plucks at Brian’s shirt, which is drenched with sweat and sticking uncomfortably to his skin. “You still look far too warm, darling. Why don’t you just take this off?”

The others didn’t hesitate to lose their shirts early in the session but Brian has been resisting, undoing more buttons and rolling his sleeves up further rather than relinquishing the garment altogether. Even in the privacy of the practice room room Brian can’t help but feel a thin tendril of shame curl up through his chest at the thought of exposing that much of his body at once. He’s too gangly and too thin, long-limbed in a way that’s awkward instead of enticing, and he thinks he’d rather pass out from heat exhaustion than embarrass himself in front of his friends like that.

“I don’t want to,” Brian mumbles.

Behind him Freddie huffs, clearly gearing up to keep pushing the issue, but before he can say anything Roger calls from across the room, “He’s right, mate, you look pretty fucking miserable. There’s a spare shirt in my bag if you want it, at least it’ll be dry and lighter than what you’re wearing now.”

The others are all looking at him now, their scrutiny making Brian’s face flush hotter than it already was. For a moment Brian’s stubborn streak rears its ugly head, makes him want to refuse simply to prove that he’s committed to the decisions he’s already made… but it’s too hot to get into a useless argument with his friends, and once again Brian finds himself quickly relenting to the suggestion.

“Fine,” he says, and passes his guitar off to Freddie so he can stagger to his feet, grimacing at the feeling of his sticky skin peeling away from the practice room floor.

Roger’s knapsack is thrown haphazardly against the wall, books and papers and various odds-and-ends spilling out of it, but despite the shock of chaos that seems to always seems to follow the drummer around it doesn’t take Brian long to find the shirt that Roger mentioned - though his heart slowly sinks as he pulls it out of the bag.

“Rog, is this what you were talking about?” Brian asks, waving the shirt in Roger’s general direction as he digs through the bag with his other hand, even though it’s readily apparent that there are no other clothes there.

“Yep, that’s the one,” Roger confirms. “Might be a bit short, but it should still fit fine enough to rehearse in.”

“Right,” Brian says faintly, though Roger has already turned back to his conversation with John.

He looks down at the shirt in his hands and weighs his options. It’s barely a shirt at all, just a tank top, and that’s really the problem here. No sleeves to hide his boney shoulders, no excess fabric to mask how thin he really is, arms and pits on full display… Paired with the shorts he already has on, he might as well be wearing nothing at all for how indecent - and ridiculous - he’s bound to look.

But then again… if it’s too hot for embarrassment, maybe it’s too hot for propriety as well.

Before he can start overthinking things again Brian strips out of his shirt, taking just a split-second to relish the feeling of having the damp garment off and the dry air against his skin, before finally tugging on the borrowed tank top. It’s a hair too small, riding up to show a scant few inches of skin along his waistband, to say nothing of how exposed Brian feels having his arms on display like this… He’s profoundly grateful that there aren’t any mirrors in the practice room, so he doesn’t have to see himself like this.

“Hey, that doesn’t look bad on you,” Roger says as Brian tries, and largely fails, to get the tank top to stretch enough to fully cover his stomach. “You wanna keep it? I hardly wear it anyway.”

Brian can’t stop himself from making a face at the suggestion, though some of his anxieties fade away at Roger’s easy compliment and the lack of judgement from the others.

Only Freddie laughs, but it’s directed at Roger as he says, “Leave him alone, Rog, you know our Brimi doesn’t like your garish taste in clothing.”

“Garish?” Roger echoes, voice full of faux indignation. How they have the energy to wind each other up like this, Brian has no idea. He may be slightly cooler now but Brian still feels tired and sluggish, his thoughts too slow to even begin to join in with the others good-natured bickering.

Instead he makes his way back over to Freddie, taking back his guitar and sinking down to the floor with his back against the wall. The stone feels frigid against his overheated skin and he sighs, almost content for the first time in hours, and lets his eyes slip shut - just for a moment, just until Roger and John are done hashing out this section and they can get back to rehearsal…

“Freddie, d’you want to show us that new song you were talking about?” John asks, quietly, a few moments later. “Walk us through the rhythm section, and give Brian a chance to cool off for a bit?” He nods towards the guitarist and adds, “He looks like he could use the break.”

Brian doesn’t hear John’s suggestion, or notice when the three of them glance in his direction. He’s already dozed off, lulled to a hazy sleep by the heat, his Red Special held loose in his lap and his long limbs stretched out, sweat drying on his bare skin and a few loose strands of hair blowing gently with every soft exhale.

Queen doesn’t have much time left in their practice session, but none of them have the heart to wake up Brian now.

“Sounds like a perfect idea to me,” Freddie says as the three of them dive back into work, and leave their friend to sleep in peace.

[dragonfire2lm]

Rubies and Sapphires: The Ruby Heart

Chapter 1: Fox Tails

The ornate white castle in the center of the bustling village was like a beacon to her as she walked through the front gate and flashed her identification to the armoured guards standing out front.

She flicked her hair, long orange tresses tied back in a loose ponytail via a blue ribbon and looked up the clocktower within sight of the town square, adjusting her spectacles to counter the harsh glare of the midday sun.

A breeze fluttered her long white robe as she strolled down the bricked road towards the middle of town. The buildings were as white and pristine as the castle, with shopfronts that had colourful signs, houses with beautiful and intricate stained-glass windows caught the eye, and flowers of every kind and colour imaginable growing in neat little flowerbeds lining the street.

As she grew closer to the center of town, the noise of the open market grew in volume, drowning the rhythmic beat of her footsteps, and a prelude to the work that lay ahead of her. Not that she minded of course, as much as the bright sunlight, colourful garments and noise was a welcome sight after spending so long on the road, it was already an annoyance to the normally reclusive woman.

She could already feel a headache rapidly taking a hold of her right temple as she ducked into the nearest tavern.

The building, lit by orbs of mage light that floated near the ceiling, all dark wood and invitingly quiet, was a welcome respite. There was a bar at the far end of the room. Behind it lay a staircase that led to the upper floor of the building.

She took a seat at one of the empty tables dotted around the room and pulled out a piece of parchment from her robes. It was a flyer advertising the ruler of this region would open sections of his home to the public to host a ball.

She smirked.

She knew full well the ruler in question, Lord Galeforce, had been having trouble with an ancient order of mages that stole magical artefacts, and this ball was his attempt to catch them red-handed by having the Star Sapphire and Radiant Ruby on display for the event, two of the realms most valued magical jewels.

She stowed the flyer away and called a barmaid over to order some roast beast. As she waited, she heard a couple of people take the empty table behind her.

"Terrence is gettin’ ballsy, gunnin’ after Gale.” One man said gruffly, in a Terralian accent.

His partner sighed, replying wearily. “I’ve tried talking to him, he wants those jewels even if it kills us.”

The gruff man snorted “Yeah, us, not him… You should jus’ let me put an arrow in his head Reg.”

“Absolutely not!” Reg said, a little too loudly.

“All I’m sayin’ is it’ll be nice an’ quick, no one will miss him.”

“And who will lead the clan?”

“You could.”

“Me?” Reg squeaked. “Don’t be ridiculous Wright…”

“You got the brains for it.”

“And nothing else.” Reg replied sourly. “I’m not strong like Terrence is, the moment I try to take control I’ll be thrown out of the fortress.”

Wright hummed. “Alrigh’ then, you be the King, I’ll be yer Champion.”

“Wright… I appreciate the sentiment, but now isn’t the best time, nor place to discuss this.” Reg sighed.

“Fair point,” Wright conceded, and the conversation changed topic. “Looking forward to seeing the ruby tonight?”

“Of course, it has been quite some time since I last laid eyes on it.”

Her eavesdropping was interrupted by the arrival of her food. The sight of freshly cooked meat made her mouth water as she tore into her meal.

She paused as the sound of her robes shuffling. With a calm breath and her fork sticking out of her mouth, she forced her tail, concealed beneath her clothing, to stop moving.

The two men behind her continued a far more mundane conversation as she ate, ordering drinks for themselves, and by the time she had scarfed down the last shreds of meat, half an hour later, they had paid their tab and left.

I’d better be careful tonight, don’t want to step on their toes. She thought as she asked for directions to nearest inn.

Hours later and she was walking into the lavish ballroom, a long flowing blue robe draped across her form, and wearing white slippers that muffled the sound of her footsteps against the polished floor. Her true self concealed under a mountain of wards tightly coiled around her body, unseen to the untrained eye of the average person.

The room was massive, with the same white walls as the rest of the castle, long wooden tables laden with food were placed at the edges of the room as a live orchestra played music quietly on a raised dais near the back of the room.

In the middle of the ballroom, held in a glass display cases, were a pair of jewels. She walked over to them, mindful of the soldiers in dress uniform that stood guard on either side.

Resting on a velvet cushion was a ruby as red as blood. It gave off its own light, pulsing crimson in a steady rhythm. And while that glow had initially got her attention, it was what lay beside it that truly drew her eye.

The four-point sapphire, flecked with white dots, looks as if the night sky had been taken and compressed into a jewel. She felt as if she could stare at it forever, that it held the secrets of the universe.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” A voice asked.

She startled, snapping around on her heel to see a man in his late twenties with a curled brown moustache and dressed in an elegant black suit and red bowtie.

His red eyes twinkled in amusement as she righted herself. “I didn’t mean to give you a scare, I was merely commenting on the rare sight his Lordship has graced us with this night.”

She recognized the voice, one of the men from the bar. She shrugged. “It’s fine, happens enough as it is with a bung eye an’ all.” She said, gesturing at her left eye, unfocused, and half closed.

“Terralian?” he asked, and she nodded. “A bit far from home, aren’t you?”

“I do a lot of travelling,” She answered, turned to face him, and paused. “You know, not many people can pin down my accent, most folks I’ve met think Terralia is a myth…”

He chuckled. “As good as the academy’s are, world history isn’t a mandatory subject outside of the diplomacy courses,” he held out a gloved hand. “Reginald Copperbottom, Noble of the House of Crimson Scales.”

Now that was a title that gave her pause. “The Dragon Slayers?”

“The very same,” he confirmed. “And you?”

"Lucina Grey of the Elder Grove Alliance,” She said, the alias falling easily off her tongue as they shook hands. As an afterthought she added. “Illusion specialist.”

Reginald politely offered his arm, an invitation to take the discussion elsewhere. She however, breezed past him and motioned for him to follow as she led them over to an empty table out on the rather spacious balcony.

“Not one for polite conversation I take it?” he asked, once more amused by her antics.

She gave him a flat look, one that matched the tone of her voice as they sat down. “I don’t exactly ascribe to the notion I have to act a certain way just because others expect it of me. My respect should suffice, shouldn’t it?”

“Indeed, it should,” he agreed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together. “Are you familiar with legends around those gems?”

“Aside from the fact the Star Sapphire is said to grant wishes, not really,” She admitted, leaning back in her chair. “Why, you know a few tales?”

“I’m well versed in the subject,” he answered proudly. “For example, the Radiant Ruby was said to have been the heart of one of the Dragon Princes of old, supposedly the Prince of Honor.”

“I know a fair bit about dragons,” she said. “If that ruby is a dragon heart, that means the dragon’s still out there.”

“Dragons don’t die,” she added, and Reginald nodded. “They hide until they can retrieve their heart. ‘Course, most never do, so they make do, and live their lives as best they can.”

Reginald’s eyebrow flew up into his hair. “It almost sounds like you’ve met some.”

“I travel,” She offered by way of explanation. “I’ve met a few, nice people.”

He smirked. “I daresay very few people are as accepting as you,” his smile became something sly. “Why don’t we cut to the chase, hm? Which jewel are you after? Cadmean.”

The silence offered by the balcony was suddenly deafening.

“Ah… Right, okay…” she said as he relished her floundering. “How?”

“Your eyes,” he answered coolly. “As slippery as you are Lady Cadmean, there is one trait that always matches your disguises, the blindness in your left eye. You cannot hide a deformity like that… I’m surprised the guards haven’t caught on.”

She stiffened, sitting rigid in her seat, as she waited to see what he would do and ready to flee.

Panic. Raw, jarring panic set her on alert. “You can see through my wards,” She said evenly, sounding far calmer than she felt. Resigned, she replied. “The Star Sapphire. I’m here for the sapphire.”

Some tension left the man’s shoulders, he leaned back in his seat, and rested his hands in his lap. “Good…”

He sounded relieved. Something wasn’t adding up, he clearly was here to cause trouble of some sort yet appeared to be concerned about the actions of a mere thief.

“Why?” she asked once the initial shock wore off. “Why do you care anyway?”

“Because I’m here for the ruby,” he explained. “And if I am to see the sunrise tomorrow, I need to get that ruby.”

A frown adorned her face. “Is someone threatenin’ you?”

“Ah, no no, nothing of the sort!” Reginald hastily denied, slowly wilting under her firm gaze. “…Yes, unfortunately.”

“My liege wants both jewels before the night is over, or else my friend and I are out on the streets... or dead, whichever happens first.” He explained.

“You got a plan?”

He blinked. “You want to help?”

“We’re after the same thing yeah? If your boss wants both, I can just find something else for my collection…” she trailed off at the stunned look of wonderment on his face. “What?”

He beamed. “You have no idea how long it’s been since I last met someone so… blasé, it’s frankly quite amazing.”

She shrugged. “If you say so.”

He cleared his throat. “Now then, here’s what I’ve managed to put together…”

*******************************************************************************************

Sometime later they returned to the ballroom, she took her position leaning up against the wall with the gemstones in full view. She watched Reginald walk over to man with a bushy orange moustache and green eyes, quietly converse with him for a moment, and gestured at her.

She gave the men a polite nod.

She moved away from the wall as the other two parted ways, and with a discrete signal from Reginald, it began.

Smoke bombs hidden on the ceiling, detonated, raining black, glittering smoke onto the guests. The familiar sound of people screaming and running in terror filled her ears as she expertly weaved through the crowd.

The din of panicked people was quickly drowned out by the thunderous noise of countless guards storming the room.

“Surround the gems! I want those Toppats caught!” a voice barked, Lord Galeforce, she assumed.

She made it to the glass case just as the smoke cleared. She pressed a fingertip on against the glass, a thin blade of magic materializing around the digit and cleanly slicing through the glass.

With one fluid motion, she had cut a hole in the case. Grabbing the two jewels, she froze as the clattering of guards stopped just behind her and the sharp ends of several spears were pressed into her back.

“Well, well, we were hoping for a Toppat, but to catch the infamous Cadmean Vixen instead? Looks like your luck just ran out.”

She smirked.

“Not this time.” She said calmly as she wreathed herself in magic, blinding the gathered soldiers in the flash of light it created, and using the confusion to head to the balcony.

Once outside, her form shifted, her body blurring, clothes disappeared into grey wisps of magic as a rather large fox stood where the woman had once been. She glanced back to see the guards scrambling to find her and leapt up onto the balcony railing.

With a leap she jumped up onto the windowsill below her and with practiced ease, scaled her way down the exterior of the castle. In minutes she was hiding in a bush, scanning the fleeing crowd that poured out of the Castle gate for any sign of her cohorts.

There.

She spotted them leaving, none the worse for wear, and she stuck to bushes, alleys, and the darkness of side streets as she tailed them to the rendezvous point outside of the town walls.

 They stopped by a river, near a boat tied to a rock by the riverbank. She shifted back onto her human form and walked over to them. As soon as she did, she had the business end of a sword in her face. It was the man she had seen Reginald talking to earlier.

“You ‘ave them?” he asked.

She pulled the ruby and the sapphire out of her robe and held them out to him. Reginald sidled up to the other male, eyes locked onto the ruby.

“Finally… after all these years…” he murmured, picking up the ruby delicately as his companion grabbed the sapphire and prodded the woman with the tip of his blade.

“You’re coming with us.” He stated as Reginald got into the boat, the Radiant Ruby clasped tight in his gloved hands.

For her part, she shrugged and clambered into the small watercraft.

“Wright, show her some respect, she’s risked quite a lot by working with the likes of us.” Reginald stated, voice authoritative.

“I’ll show her some respect when we’re sure she won’t turn tail on us.” Wright scoffed as he joined them in the boat and cut the rope tying the vessel to shore. A blast of fire magic from Reginald burned the remains of the rope to ash and hid any trace of their getaway.

She remained unfazed despite the accusation; it wasn’t anything new in her line of work.

“So, now what?” she asked Reginald.

He grinned at her, mischief dancing in his eyes. “I’ll introduce you to our leader, The Toppat King, and have you join our ranks. You have the talent for it.”

“Reg.” Wright warned.

“She could have taken the gems and ran off to who knows where, and yet she honored our agreement,” Reginald pointed out as they left the town behind them. “The Cadmean Vixen is wanted in three kingdoms for vigilantism, theft, and unlawful release of slaves.”

“S’not your call though, it’s up to the King.” Wright said and a shadow passed overhead.

“I’m aware,” Reginald replied and looked over at the woman. “If you’re not accepted, be ready to run.”

“Nothing new there then.” She commented as she looked at the massive red fortress that loomed overhead and the pair of ropes that had been thrown down for them.

She offered Reginald a small smile. “Thanks for trusting me though, been a while since I’ve had that luxury.”

“Of course, Er, what is your name?” he asked as they started climbing, Wright bringing up the rear.

“I don’t have one,” she replied and elaborated at his confusion. “I got kicked out of my pack, a Furhide with no pack is a Furhide with no name. Most people just call me Red.”

“It’s very nice to meet you Red, hopefully Terrence shares the sentiment.”

“Yeah.” She replied.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

*******************************************************************************************

Glossary

Terralia: Basically Australia, but magic

Furhide: Basically werebeasts (werewolves and the like)

[cheekytorah]

Skating Lessons

[So I rewrote this in the last few days and updated this on Ao3 today!]

~*~

“Moooooony!”

Remus grunted and pulled the covers over his head. There was no way he was getting out of the warmth of his bed, no it just wasn’t happening. He’d enjoyed two helpings of a lovely roast dinner with mash and corn, and delicious chocolate pudding. It may have been early but all his assignments for the following day were finished and he didn’t have any rounds that evening. It was quite a good time for a nap.

“Moony, Moony, Moonbeam!” The voice whines further.

“Nope.”

“Oh come on, you sleepy sloth, wake up! We have a brilliant plan!”

Remus peeked an eye out from the covers and raised his brow at Sirius, perched at the bottom of his bed with a cheeky grin. That was a face that was always getting him into trouble, and Remus wasn’t thinking about the many pranks and plans kind of trouble. More so the ‘he makes Remus’ heart pitter-patter’ kind of trouble. Remus sighed, Sirius knew he would crack him. It was only a matter of how long he begged. Remus reluctantly sat up and narrowed his eyes at Sirius.

“What, in Merlin’s name, is this brilliant plan? It had better be good or I swear I’m going right back to bed.”

“We’re going skating!”

“Skating?”

“Yes! Prongs is getting it all sorted now!”

“Lily is on rounds tonight, or has the great stag forgotten that? She’ll blow a gasket if she catches us outside this late.”

Sirius smirked, waved dismissively and pulled Remus to his feet. The touch of his warm hands made Remus tingly, he shivered at the thought of those hands touching other more sensitive places. Merlin, not the time for that. Remus shook his head to clear his mind.

Within ten minutes the two were trudging through the piles of snow that decorated the Hogwarts grounds. It was beautiful, the sun slowly setting, the snow casting a brilliant glow. As they neared the Black Lake, Remus saw James casting spells over the water and Peter casting warming charms over an area which had a blanket and four mugs of what looked like hot chocolate.

James had managed to freeze all but a small section where the resident squid was watching them from. Sinking onto the blanket, he began muttering and waving his wand over his boots turning them into muggle skates. He slid onto the ice and beckoned the others to join him. Peter of course stayed with the blanket and bags while Remus joined Sirius and James on the ice. He wasn’t the strongest skater but it did seem like good fun. They’d been locked in the castle for days from a huge snow storm, so it was good to finally get some air.

Remus felt the cold wind whip against his face and the smooth ice beneath his skates. It was nice to feel like a regular student sometimes, enjoying regular things. Skating was something his mother had tried to teach him as a child, something her parents taught her on the pond behind their cottage. Merlin, he was glad he had her, and it terrified him that something might happen to her in the coming war.

So being here, skating with his friends, he allowed himself to forget it. Forget everything. Forget the war, forget the fears. Try to forget that he was in love with his best friend. Who was he kidding. He couldn’t ever forget that.

Remus stumbled, tripping over his own feet and almost landed face first in the snow bank. Almost, because he was caught mid tumble by warm sturdy arms. He looked up into soft grey eyes. Godric, this man was beautiful. Sirius held Remus for a moment, steadying him, faces far too close. Remus felt his face burn as he flushed from embarrassment at the thoughts that floated through his mind. Thoughts insisting that the best move would be to kiss Sirius Black.

Sirius pulled away once he was certain Remus wasn’t going to fall, and skated over to James. They seemed to exchange a few words before, grinning, Sirius pulled to a stop in front of Remus once more.

“Skating Lessons?”

“Well, I’m not sure that’s entirely necessary.” Remus said quietly, looking at his gloved fingers.

“Com’ere.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and and gripped Remus’ wrist, slipping behind him. Remus felt Sirius press behind him and slide his hands down his arms and lace his fingers with Remus’. He whispered in Remus’ ear which way they were going, which foot to lead with and helped guide Remus around the pond. Falling into a rhythm Remus laughed and began to really enjoy himself. It felt so perfect being in Sirius’ arms. His breath on his ear, Sirius lips in his curls. Merlin, he was so far gone it was ridiculous.

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