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atariince · 3 years

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Anathema - Chapter 14: New Strings

You can find the complete fanfiction on SWG or AO3 (and a bit late for the Fëanorian week, but oh well)

The Fëanorian lords shamelessly play with their influence in Nargothrond… Finrod, and to a lesser extent Celebrimbor, are confused.

He could already hear the echoes of their cheering.

Already the smell of mirth and relief. Of gratitude and of something that resembled hope.

And he knew it was real, not the fruit of his delusional dreams.

“Hurray ! Hurray! May the glory of the Sons of Fëanor shine !”

And as they got closer, their horses’ hooves carefully and slowly finding their way between the heaps of grass that stood between them and the Gates of Nargothrond, Curufinwë glanced at his brother beside him. There was a wide smile on Tyelkormo’s face, and on his cheeks, wrinkles of pride seemed to merge with the spots of dry blood. A thick, black blood which was not his own.

“Are you ready, brother?” asked Tyelkormo as soon as he caught his little brother’s gaze on him.

Curufinwë turned his head to look in front of him again, his eyes falling on the crowd standing in the pale daylight. His fingers tightened on the reins, his mare slew down and came to a halt.

“Not now, Curvo…” mumbled his brother, and the few steps between them couldn't keep Curufinwë from catching the slight irritation in his voice.

He tightened his thighs, and the mare instantly set forth, a slow trot to catch up with Tyelkormo, who whistled a couple of times. The hounds, who had been lazily following them since they had left the fields of Tumhalad and the tinkling melody of the waters of Ginglith, gathered around them. All but one. Huan, at his master’s demand, was taking a few steps ahead, running happily towards the gates and barking loudly as to announce the arrival of the lords.

Useless, as the people in front of the Caves had caught the sight of them many miles before, and since then, the crowd had never stopped growing, bringing together both dignitaries and servants, Ñoldor and Sindar. And amongst them, standing proudly at the midst of this joyful group, his son.

Tyelperinquar moved forwards to welcome the giant hound, patted his huge head with a smile, and when his eyes moved back on his approaching father, this same smile hadn’t left his lips.

There was a pang in Curufinwë’s chest. His lips trembled a little, but he couldn’t keep his own smile hidden any longer.

“What a glorious idea you had Curvo, to send Tyelperinquar ahead so he could tell them what happened and announce our return.”

“Not my idea, Turco. His.”

The only idea he could be praised for was that of this hunting party. His primary feat had been to convince his son to join them. Yet now that he looked back on it, he wondered if Tyelperinquar had really needed to be convinced in the first place.

Beneath the leather of his gloves, his own skin was burning. Thousands of needles piercing the severed flesh as he tightly held the reins.

But he was used to it now.

“Hurray! May the light of Arda shine upon our lords !”

The cries of bliss didn’t dwindle, and the excitement and relief in their eyes was becoming clearer as the two brothers got closer.

They dismounted, and Tyelperinquar walked up to them, closely followed by two of their people who immediately caught the reins of their horses and took them to the stables for a few well deserved cares.

“You are late”, laughed Tyelperinquar. “The whole of Nargothrond has been expecting you since last night.”

“Your uncle needed his ankle to be tended”, answered Curufinwë. “We had to make one last halt before we left Tumhalad for good.”

“My ankle is perfectly fine!” retorted Tyelkormo, circling them with a few strides. “See? not a single limp.”

Curufinwë and his son shared a conniving look.

“I am glad to see you, father.”

A slight bow of his head, that was the only answer he managed to give. And already, the people of Nargothrond were gathering around them, their cries of joy turning into songs.

O fell wolves who roam the wood

Beware the blow of their mighty blade

Doomed demons see their dark mood

For their fiery force shall never fade.

No fiend the kin of Fëanor shall fear,

Lords of light in wrath shall lead

A hopeful hunt in a haunted sphere,

For their famous feat we pour some mead !

“I could do with some mead, indeed!” cried Tyelkormo who seemed to delight in the praises.

And as he stepped amongst them, accepting the grateful pats on his back with loud laughter, Curufinwë stepped aside the euphoria, although he too could feel the waves of a new warmth caressing the edges of his heart.

Tyelperinquar hadn’t left his side, nor had his smile left his face.

“Where is the king? ”Curufinwë asked quietly.

The only answer he received was a questioning look, followed by a shrug. But Curufinwë barely noticed it, his mind already picturing the frustrating face of his noble cousin. His jaw relaxed and the severity of his face decreased, giving way to a peaceful lustre as he joined his brother amidst the crowd.

“I really do not understand what all this fuss is about”, said Tyelkormo, raising a brow between two sips, “after all, we simply slay a dozen of beasts, which had not even reached the neighbouring lands…. Nothing exceptional.”

Curufinwë was watching him, fingers dancing on the edge of his goblet. And so his brother continued:

“Mind you, Curvo, I am not complaining about the praises and whatnot, a well-deserved acknowledgement of our strains, at last ! But, still…can we call that our greatest feat… ? besides, it is not like we never hunted down those fiends before…”

Cooped in a small and comfortable room, happily away from the blissful agitation that reigned in the caves, the three Ñoldor were enjoying the evening. After a long bath and a longer moment of deep meditation, alone in front of his mirror, Curufinwë had eventually joined the festivities of the main hall where he had vainly expected to see the king. Without the satisfaction of seeing his reaction, there had been nothing much tot do but to find a quiet place where he, his brother and hi son would be able to put the situation into perspective.

“They do not care,” he answered, resting his elbows on the table. “They only want to know they are safe, nothing more. How we keep them safe, the dangers we face, or even the true nature of the threats… it interests them little. They just need to know they can breathe light-heartedly. And I cannot blame them… most of this people has already seen too much–”

“And have we not seen too much as well…?” asked Tyelperinquar hastily, cutting off his father’s speech.

The young Ñoldo had been quiet the whole evening, and although he was still bearing a genuine smile each time his gaze met that of his father, there has been something in his eyes which Curufinwë couldn’t decipher. The shadow of a doubt, perhaps, the distant echo of suspicion.

“Indeed”, his father replied, “yet we are their lords, and as such we are expected to shield them against such evils.”

“But most of them are warriors too, most of them can fight.”

“Tyelperinquar is right, Curvo.” Tyelkormo had finally put down his cup, obviously decided to take part in the discussion. “The people of Nargothrond fought before, they can – they will – do it again.”

Curufinwë’s eyes travelled from his brother to his son for a moment. He had a head start on them, but they didn’t know it. And that was for the best.

“They do not want to,” he simply said, rubbing his palms together. “And that is precisely where we step in, for their unwillingness to fight is both our chance and our bane.”

“What do you mean, father?”

The cloud in Tyelperinquar’s eyes seemed to thicken, and Curufinwë looked away. He laid back in his chair and managed to smile. A trembling smile, but a sympathetic one.

“Nothing. At least, for now. There is a lot of work to do.”

Tyelperinquar frowned a little, but he said nothing more. As for Tyelkormo he seemed lost in his own thoughts, eyes fixed on his goblet.

The light around them flickered a bit, as a deep and strangely peaceful silence fell over the room. They could hear the voices behind the door, the singing and hand-clapping. The caves felt warmer than ever, at least since the Fëanorians had settled in, more than eight years before.

“How is Huan?” Suddenly asked Tyelperinquar. “I did not see him tonight.”

“My boy is resting, too content with the large leg of lamb he had for dinner to bother himself with us.” Pride was cheerfully dancing on Tyelkormo’s eyes as he answered. “The hounds are exhausted, but none of them is seriously hurt.”

“Thank Eru,” smiled Tyelperinquar.

“Tyelko,” called Curufinwë with a gentle voice, “do you remember that hunt with Tauros’ host, when Huan called you on your eagerness ?”

A loud laughter escaped his brother’s lips, and he tossed his head backward and shifted on his seat.

“If I remember it? He would not let me go after that boar!”

“You lacked precision, and patience.”

“Huan taught me patience.”

“Did he really?” Asked Curufinwë, raising a sceptical brow.

“Oh come on, brother! I was still young; don’t you tell me I have not learned from those mistakes!”

Tyelperinquar was eagerly listening to the joyful recollection. His father was watching him from the corner of his eyes when he saw his son’s smile getting wider and the clouds in his eyes getting thinner. He carried on with the easing memories.

“Even Irissë would blame you for losing tracks of the beast.”

“Irissë would have blamed her own mother if only to avoid questioning her own skills.”

“There was not much to question about her skills.”

A pause. The two bothers looked into each other eyes, nostalgia, affection, and playfulness mingling in their gaze And suddenly this acrid pang again, right in his plexus, like a harsh blow in his chest. Curufinwë held his breath.

“She used to be a mighty hunter,” said Tyelkormo after a moment. “She would always manage to get the better of me.”

Finally, Curufinwë took a deep breath. It was painful, the air running through the tensed throat and reaching his stiff chest.

Tyelperinquar had lowered his head, and from where he stood, Curufinwë could only see his frowning brow behind the dark curtain of his hair.

He couldn’t let this happen. Not now. Not when all seemed to go so well.

“Tyelperinquar, you know this lovely necklace you made for the celebration of her begetting day?”

“What about it ?“ he whispered, slowly raising up his gaze. “I was but a child then, there was nothing lovely about it…”

Curufinwë gave a gentle smile. “It was one of the first pieces you actually completed. And she loved it.”

“Did she?”

“Oh yes!” barked Tyelkormo excitedly. “Even your mother was jealous for not getting a similar gift.”

Curufinwë winced. Why?

He closed his eyes a few seconds, and this time, the silence that swallowed the room was painfully awkward. When he looked again, Tyelperinquar had lowered his head, hiding again behind the thick, dark threads.

“I know for sure that Aulë himself was impressed,” tried Curufinwë, his voice but a soft and quiet murmur.

No reaction from either side. He sighed.

Tyelkormo picked up his glass and hide his nose into it as long as he could.

I meant not to mention her, Curvo… forgive me.

The thought was coming from Tyelkormo. Curufinwë did not even begin to give the semblance of an answer, but he didn’t want to believe that all that he was building would eventually crumble like this. His life couldn’t become a mere heap of ruins. Not yet.

“May I go, father? I… am exhausted.”

Curufinwë gave a slow nod, and soon after his son had left the room. Now, he could see his brother was avoiding meeting his gaze, although he had lost nothing of his confident countenance.

Any reproach would be useless, Curufinwë knew that; a dirty compress on an infected wound.

“Curvo…”

“Not now.”

“No, I mean… you did a great job.”

He froze, unsure and confused. His questioning look didn’t bring any answer; no matter what Tyelkormo was referring to, he seemingly had no intention to make it clear.

Curufinwë grasped his goblet and emptied it with one quick sip, the warmth of the mead softly tickling his stomach.

“I did my best.”

“Good day, my lord.”

“The light of Varda be with you, lord Curufin.”

“Please my lord Curufin, take this with you, it will bring you much luck and happiness.”

“Enjoy your day, lord Curufin.”

So many bows, so many praises and respectful acknowledgements. Just like before, in Himlad. Just like it should have always been here, in Nargothrond.

His fingers toying with the trinket received from the hands of this young Elda with the lovely dress and the kind smile, he kept walking along the main corridor of the caves, and the shadow of a smile was floating on his lips. His chin was high, his eyes scanning the faces around, his senses sharpened by the lack of sleep. Only an occasional twitch of his left eye. Nothing to worry about. Nothing that would betray him.

As he opened the large door of the King’s office, he knew what to expect. And he was not disappointed.

Felagund was sitting behind his desk, aloof and grave, both of his hands resting flat in front of him. As soon as Curufinwë stepped in, a pinched smile appeared on his lips, but his eyes said nothing.

“Good morning, king Felagund… cousin,” said Curufinwë spiritedly.

“Curufinwë… I was not expecting you so early. Good morning to you.”

“I was told you expected to see me.”

“Indeed, indeed. I… I just believed you would have preferred to rest this morning, after those straining adventures of yours… about which must have been said since your return.”

Curufinwë sat down in the chair appointed for visitors, and relaxed a little, his eyes never living the king’s face.

“Oh, really?” he breathed. “And may I ask what was said.”

The king gestured vaguely, shaking his hand as to discard the question. “Mostly rumours, I guess. I would prefer to have first-hand information… from you. What news from the North, cousin?”

“Have you got no scouts to bring you this sort of information?” asked Curufinwë, arms now crossed over his chest.

“My scouts do not cross the limits of the realm, and I was told you fought in the fields far beyond the crossing of Narog and Ginglith. Is that true?”

Curufinwë didn’t bother answering. He took a deep breath and smiled. And so the king continued:

“I suppose I should thank you. This is why you came here so early… am I wrong, cousin?”

“Who am I to tell the king what to do?” Answered Curufinwë with a playful smirk.

The king gave out a loud sigh, in which Curufinwë could detect both frustration and confusion. “Listen, Curufinwë, I appreciate your effort to keep the realm safe, but there was no need to hunt beyond those borders… the beasts of the North never cross the fields of Tumhalad, and there is a good reason for that: they know my people would greet them with as so many arrows. Your feat may be impressive, and admirable… but I am afraid it was useless, cousin.”

A sharp laugh broke through Curufinwë’s lips. He would have clapped his hands if decency wasn’t keeping him from such sarcasm.

“Ooh, Findaráto… I greatly doubt your people is of the same mind. To be fair, O royal cousin, they all look profoundly relieved, and grateful to us for having rid the realm of those threats… at last!”

“Be careful, Curufinwë,” said the king quietly, looking down at his own fingers dancing slowly on his desk. “You are still a guest here, no matter how potent your words might ring over the council table.”

“A guest, indeed,” nodded Curufinwë gleefully, “but one who is not afraid to execute a duty the king should have contemplated long ago. And your people know that.”

“Did you not listen to me? “ Spat the king, suddenly standing up. “There was no real threat in Tumhalad!”

The shot had reached its target. Curufinwë was delighted.

“How do you explain then, the sudden contentment of your people, and the new lightness of their heart ?” he asked slowly, gently even, plainly enjoying the situation.

“They know nothing of what happens beyond the limits of their eyesight.”

Curufinwë gave a loud hiss, accompanied by a slight wince. “That is not a way to talk about one’s own people, O king.”

Felagund looked confused. He was obviously straining to pull himself together, but Curufinwë could not tell if his cousin had been expected the conversation to take this turn. The Fëanorian at least, was prepared.

Bringing his hands together, Felagund walked around his desk to stand behind his cousin’s chair, looking down at him as he would have done with a mongrel. “You can enjoy your fame while it lasts, Curufinwë, and delight in the little influence it will grant you. But do not expect much of it, for this will not endure. I know those lands, my lands, and I know our enemies. You have challenged the power of the north by trespassing those limits...”

“Do you really believe the enemy cares about your limits?” retorted Curufinwë, now serious again, a new severity imbuing his voice.

The king looked away, obviously pondering those words.

“Listen, Findaráto, all I wish for is the safety of this realm, and the happiness of our – your people. And what do you think they want?"

Felagund, it seemed, had noticed his cousin’s slip of tongue. Curufinwë could tell from the sharp light that sparkled for a second in his eyes.

“They want to protect their home….” mused the king, slowly walking back to his ornate chair and sitting down.

“And they already know about the fell beasts roaming around the borders of those lands, Findaráto. They know some actions must be taken; they know we cannot hide forever. They want to protect their home, instead of watching us blatantly lazing around in our gold.”

This was going too well. Much too well. Unless it was but another of Felagund’s tricks. Curufinwë was on guard, but showed nothing of it. His hand instinctively reached his pocket where he found that trinket again, and he fingered it absent-mindedly, waiting for the king to make up his mind.

“What are you really suggesting here, Curufinwë?”

“Nothing you cannot do, King Felagund,” he asserted with a smile which he kept as friendly as possible. “Give them a reason to believe that the king is ready to fight, that he will not hide any longer. That he would sacrifice anything to defeat their fears.”

Felagund was watching intently into his cousin’s eyes, his own fingers toying with his rings, mirroring Curufinwë’s movement.

“Do you really believe they no longer count on discretion? That they would actually fight again?

“Discretion is crucial, but what happened yesterday proved that they expect a more active involvement in this war… And in the meanwhile,” continued Curufinwë, preparing his last blow, “my brother, my son and I will keep on enjoying that little fame you mentioned earlier. That fame that stemmed from the acknowledgement of those who really wish and actually try to protect those lands.”

On that, he stood up, leaving the king at a loss (that he knew) and caring little for the silent resentment which had invaded the room.

“Curufinwë, wait,” came the king’s voice as he was opening the door, and there was nothing but silence and stillness for a moment. “Perhaps… you may be right.”

Curufinwë turned around and their eyes met again, intense and stern from both sides.

“Perhaps it has to do with… that foresight, the powerful feeling I had that I would…”

Curufinwë was all ears, still and waiting eagerly.

“I only told my sister about it, but now… I feel it is getting closer.”

He let Felagund talk, he had to let him reveal what was in his mind, what he had been hiding for so long. He could see the words dancing silently on his cousin’s lips, hesitating. But Felagund swallowed them back.

Curufinwë sighed.

“Thank you for your advices, cousin, be they genuine or not,” said the king, taking a deep breath. “I will think about it. You may go.”

Curufinwë closed the heavy doors behind him and waited a few seconds, if only to make sure no more words would escape the king’s study.

A foresight?

“Look father, a young child put this lovely drawing on the threshold of you study. They did very well with that portrait of you. Do you see? They even included your sword here, and… is that a smile on your face ? how creative!

Curufinwë chuckled, and peaked at the child’s drawing. There was indeed a smile on his face.

“Be not so sarcastic, my son.”

“You are right, I am unfair; you have been smiling a lot more lately.”

“Have I?”

Tyelperinquar sat down beside his father, and he silently watched him rummage through the many scrolls covering the desk.

“You should take a break, father. It seems like you have not stepped out of this room for a whole week.”

Finally finding the parchment he was looking for, Curufinwë unrolled it, picked up a quill and started to amend it carefully.

“People are looking up to me. This is not the moment to disappoint them.”

“Perhaps”, answered Tyelperinquar thoughtfully, “but it does not mean you ought to accept duties which are not supposed to be yours. You do not need more influence in here, and you already have enough responsibilities.”

“You do not understand, Tyelperinquar.”

“Explain me then. Tell me why it is so important for you to control everything.”

Curufinwë froze, the tension in his shoulders waking up and sending flashes of pain along his back.

“Who talked of control?” he asked quietly, putting down the parchment. “I am barely trying to carry out all the things the king has been ignoring in the past few years.”

His son shook his head but gave no reply.

“Listen Tyelperinquar, I am covering ourselves here, that is all.”

“Stop treating me like a child!” he finally exploded, his fist hitting his father’s desk. “Artaresto is younger than I, and he has been appointed vice regent of this realm! why can you not trust me? Why can you not let me know about your plans?”

“Is that what you want ? To become the vice regent of Nargothrond?” asked Curufinwë, an eyebrow raised, midway between sarcasm and sheer interest.

“I do not fancy this sort of power, father. You, more than anyone else, should know that by now.”

“What power do you fancy then, my child.”

“Enough, father!”

Curufinwë bent forward, moving slightly closer to his son, who would not look at him.

“I am serious, Tyelperinquar. You used the word power, and I would very much like to know what you put behind it.”

“This is not the point.”

“Knowledge.”

“What?”

“The power you seek. It is knowledge, is it not?”, asked Curufinwë, as in confidence.

There was a short silence, only troubled by the song of the fountain that adorned and refreshed the room.

“And you will not let me have it,” said Tyelperinquar, now looking straight into his father’s eyes.

“It is a dangerous power, son. Cruel even, to those who yearn for it.”

“How cruel was it to you?”

Curufinwë leaned back, and looked up at the ceiling, thoughtful. There was so much to say, and yet there was nothing he would say.

“Father, you always tell me I have much more to learn, but you keep on refusing to teach me more… pretending some sort of danger. Why? What do you fear? Tell me please!”

Caught by the trembling of Tyelperinquar’s voice, his gaze left the ceiling to fall back on his son’s pleading eyes. He was right: he was no longer a child. There was strength, cunning and wisdom in him, and nothing in Arda would ever match the power of his fëa. Bright and fierce, a crystal piercing the darkness crawling around. Too bright maybe, for his father to behold.

What did he fear… ?

“Son of mine, I…” he marked a pause to take his breath, and at this very moment, Tyelkormo burst into the room, caring little for the interruption.

“Excellent news, Curvo !” he cried joyfully, striding to his brother’s desk. “Oh hello, dear nephew, how are you doing ? haven’t seen you for a while.”

“I am… fine”, answered Tyelperinquar. “Father and I were discussing his responsibilities.”

Curufinwë relaxed a little. Not enough, apparently.

“I see”, mused Tyelkormo, giving his brother a questioning look which Curufinwë preferred to ignore. “Well, I guess this is a perfect timing to tell you what I have just learned, since it might eventually affect our responsibilities.”

Curufinwë suddenly sat up, all ears. “Did Canyorë learn anything?”

Tyelkormo answered with a nod, and a smile which was more meaningful than it looked.

“Wait… what has Canyorë got to do with all this?”, asked Tylperinquar.

Catching a chair and hastily straddling it, Tyelkormo started to speak with a low voice, but excitement sparkled within each words.

“There has been rumours among the people, Curvo...” he said, ‘rumours about the king and ooooh, I would not like to walk in his shoes right now.”

“Father, are you using Canyorë to spy on the people? Uncle, is that it? ”

“He is part of our people, Tyelperinquar. This is no spying…” answered Curvo calmly, slowly.

“Indeed”, Tyelkormo added, “he is just like any of them, like any inhabitant of Nargothrond listening to his neighbours, exchanging thoughts and opinions about…”

“He is one of your must trusted henchmen, uncle. Your friend.”

“And so what?” grumbled Tyelkormo. “What does it exactly change.”

“Everything!”

“Tyelperinquar, please,” called Curufinwë, now tired of the continuous interruption. “Your uncle has something to say.”

No reaction from his son, not even a frustrated sigh. Only this cloud, back in his eyes.

“Rumour has it,” whispered Tyelkormo, apparently glad to deliver the information at last, “that the king is hiding shamefully in his chambers, cowardly sneaking away from his people as to not face a truth he would be unwilling to face. Not my words, of course.”

The tension in Curufinwë’s shoulders vanished. Not that he was truly surprised, but he would not deny himself the warmth of a certain relief. He gazed at his son: still no reaction, but Curufinwë could tell he was listening carefully.

“Besides”, continued Tyelkormo, “our names might have been floating on many lips lately: comparisons might have been made between our reactivity, and the king’s…how did they say again? oh yes, his lethargic handling of the situation.”

Curufinwë managed to keep a neutral expression, but the flame of victory was already bubbling in his stomach.

“Well,” murmured Tyelperinquar after a moment, “I suppose it secures our presence here, which is… good. Although, it is all but fair for King Felagund. He did nothing wrong.”

“Did he not, really?” chuckled Tyelkormo.

Curufinwë didn’t say anything, but he noticed the confusion on his son’s face.

“It also means more work for you, father… you must be glad.”

“I shall do what I have to do.”

His answer didn’t seem to satisfy his son, but Tyelkormo looked delighted:

“Felagund had it coming, had he not, Curvo? One only reaps what ones sows. ”There was confidence and determination in his voice, and pride too. “As for ourselves we have nothing to be ashamed of; we took actions, we were successful, and that was exactly what they all expected.”

Curufinwë gave a nod, followed by a discreet but no less confident smile.

“I wonder yet,” began Tyelperinquar, his hand rubbing the tip of his chin, “Those rumours… where are they coming from ?”

“From the people, I suppose,” answered Tyelkormo genuinely. “I mean, they must have stemmed from their weariness, their worries, and were comforted by what we did in Tumhalad.”

Curufinwë kept silent. He grabbed a few scrolls in front of him and started to tidy up his desk. But Tyelperinquar wasn’t done with the subject.

“Those words they say about the king… they ring so harshly… too harshly maybe for a people who had so strongly believed in him. The flame of their angst must have been kindled somehow… by someone.”

Busy with his documents, inks, quills, and files, Curufinwë pretended not to notice the severe gaze that fell upon him.

“Who ever did this”, said Tyelkormo standing up and stretching his arms, “they surely had legit reasons. They were dissatisfied, and they spoke their mind.”

“Did they, really?” insisted the youngest Ñoldo, still staring at his father.

Curufinwë closed the box containing his favourites quills and stood up as well. He would not look at his son, not now, but he couldn’t keep on ignoring the tension. He smiled.

“Alright, let us see if there is anything we can do to assuage this imminent uproar“, he said. “We do not want those rumours to go gangrenous, do we?”

On that, he picked up his cloak and headed to the door, well-aware of his son’s intense glare upon his shoulder. They left.

“How did you do that, Curvo?” Asked Tyelkormo eventually as the two brothers were walking down the aisle that opened on the main hall, followed and greeted by kind and respectful faces, by words of trust and admiration.

“Do what?”

And Curufinwë smiled.

#curufin #celegorm #celebrimbor #finrod #feanorians #silmarillion #silmarillion fanfiction #feanorian week #anathema #my fanfics #fanfiction

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its-chelisey-stuff · 4 years

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The Untamed, eps 41-50. Well, I didn’t need my heart anyway...

Warning! This a very long post, mostly about my feelings. LOL.

So, ep 41. Whoever thought going to the bad guy’s house was a good idea, needs the severe punishment of transcribing all 3000 rules from the Lan Clan. WWX got all the truth but no proof except his word, which of course, only his bf believes. At least that opened the way for that confession at the stairs, surrounded by enemies who were ready to kill them. Who knew such a scene could be so romantic? Also, who the f*ck needs an “I like you” or “I love you” when you can get the message across in a more original and swoonie way while also making it clear that you’re in your SO’s side no matter what. Even if it means you become a public enemy as well. Lan Zhan just got better and better each episode after the flashback ended (and even before that he had his moments of brilliance). That dude has set the bar high for all the boyfriends in the world. Very high.

God! Those looks!!

And then he woke up in LZ’s bed, who attended to his wounds, saw him topless and we finally learned about those scars on his back and why it took him 3 years to go look for WWX. And excuse me?! My heart. (Also, @dangermousie, whom I’m forever grateful for convincing me to watch this drama, even if it wasn’t her intention lol, brought to my attention the reason why LZ had that Wen iron branded scar on the exact same spot as WWX and I lost it. I really did. LZ is so extra and intense, I love it.) Learning about LZ’s parents and his childhood from his oldest bro, was such a moving, bittersweet and beautiful scene. Everything about the uncle’s punishments and how he tried to keep LZ away from WWX made so much sense. Hell, even the fact that LZ loves so intensely and all-consuming it’s clear. And also, it made the romance of the show all the more clear, which baffles me. I kept reading about these so called censors, but I don’t think those were monitoring the show, not really. Hurray for love conquering it all!

So the whole core thing was something I suspected since WWX said there was a way he could recover it for his brother. It was a bit obvious to me, but I was only 80% sure because I thought having no core meant having no “magic” at all (i.e. no use of talismans, or little paper dolls and certainly no controlling zombies or spirits) but I guess it was more related to combat abilites, like the sword thing? Please forgive me if I’ve got it all wrong. But of course I got my confirmation and it was still terribly sad. And the fact that Jiang Cheng acted the way he did, didn’t have his brother’s back and just gave up on him to the point of trying to kill him when he was already attempting suicide by falling off a cliff?

I know I’m in a minority here, but I dislike him too much now... Of course WWX doesn’t have any sort of bad feelings towards his brother because that dude is just the best at being good but Lan Zhan and myself certainly did and I’m pretty sure he’s just never going to let go of his hatred and contempt towards Jiang Cheng and the only reason he tolerates him is because of WWX and the sacrifice he did. I clapped so hard when he picked up the unconscious body of his bf and stepped out of Lotus Pier without a look to Jiang Cheng who was going trhough a well deserved breakdown patrocined by my boy Wen Ning.. I hope he spends every day agonizing over the fact that he has WWX’s core. Something he considered to be everything to be “special” and that his brother gave it away, to him, just because he loved him.

I’m just torn and can’t decide which one do I love more. Lan Zhan or WWX? The two of them have their bad moments, but they also have their good ones and their super duper good ones. But I guess I don’t have to choose and plus, I love them for different reasons. WWX was a moral compass that called the powerful ones out on their double standards. He was the best and most kind and giving person despite his many traumas and I do wish he’d have thought more highly of himself because he was just better than everyone else, lol. He was so selfless sometimes that I wanted him to be selfish once in a while.

And I loved Lan Zhan for being such a stone cold bitch to everyone, so bluntly honest, who gave zero f*ck to anyone who didn’t deserve a second of his time BUT when he fell for WWX he fell SO HARD it’s amazing he didn’t have any lasting marks... oh wait, he did have those. He didn’t exactly changed, but he did risked everything he valued and believen in because, well, WWX mattered more. And he loved with such an intensity (and a dosis of EXTRA) it surprised the feels out of me lmao. And let’s not forget he saved Yuan and raised him to become the most adorable and thoughtful teenager ever. He did an amazing job with that kid and put all the other parent figures to shame.

The last 3 eps were so fun because of the never ending monologues. Reminded me when, in books, villains just talk and talk and talk and everyone is forced to listen.

I never felt bad for Jin Guangyao. Sorry not sorry. He was a psycho murderer two faced manipulating bitch. Yes. His story, his upbringing and the fact that he was never respected is something that no one deserves. And he had the misfortune of being the son of a disgusting evil monster who died in super disturbing way, but the moment he started plotting with the evil, killing (bad or good) people and the fact that he married and had children with his sister, knowingly, was just too much. He just lost me completely. I can never feel bad for someone like that. He was a kind of villain that just gave me the biggest creeps and I think I can’t get past that to feel empathy for him. I’m so glad LZ cut off his arm, such a badass moment. I just feel bad that Xichen was deceived for so many years and, in the end, was sort of manipulated into killing someone he loved, even if he was a piece of trash. Xichen BEST BRO (only rivals with WWX) IN THE WORLD deserved better and I can’t believe he seriously considered to die besides that evil bitch!

Nie Huaisang? Wtf? I was so taken aback... I still don’t know what to think about him. Like, he really really surprised me and I guess he did avenge his brother but I just had this image of him that was completely different and lol I think I need to rewatch the drama to let his plan sink in and finally process it.

So, let’s talk about that ending. After the final battle, LZ and WWX managed to sneak out (how their young fans students even let them is a surprise to me) but Yuan and Wen Ning caught up to them and WWX finally learnt the truth about Yuan’s real identity. Such a sweet moment. WWX realized that his efforts in saving the last Wens were not in vain. Awww. I loved that whole scene and I loved that Wen Ning decided to take on his own journey. He deserves happiness, I hope he gets it. But I think I need to read the novel to have more of a closure with the Jiang Cheng thing and his nephew. I mean... it can’t end like that, right? I know things can never be the same but I hope he tries to mend his relationship with his brother. And that Jing Ling gets to know WWX for real.

I can’t help but think, that if things were different, if Yanli had survived and WWX somehow didn’t become no1 enemy, maybe he would’ve been Jing Ling’s favorite uncle.

But okay... that ending. The real one. I mean, wtf? I’ve never liked this faked goodbyes. Never. Be it movies or dramas. They make no sense. But well, I guess they thought, somehow, that the drama needed it so the ending was even more touching. Tell you what, if it was done for that final brilliant smile on Wuxian’s face when he sees Lan Zhan, then I guess I can forgive it.

The Untamed was a whole experience of another kind. A very good one and I’m glad I watched it. Before watching, I couldn’t understand why everyone was so crazy about it, even months after having finished it and now, I completely understand. I was crazy about it as well and it will remain one of my fave shows. The story, the characters, the romance, the moral questioning, the issues that adressed, everything was done perfectly. It took my heart.

Now excuse me while I curl up in a fetal position thinking about this drama and my feelings for it and watch fan edits of them on Youtube.

Note: By the way, does anyone know of any dramas where Xiao Zhan and Wang Yibo, separately of course, are the leads in a modern era drama? I tried looking it up, but it looks like Xiao Zhan has made only one modern drama set to air this year? And I thought WY had a drama, but has it aired? Do the chinese actors are like the korean ones in the sense that, when they become famous, they do projects every 2-3 years?

Thank you, The Untamed. It was truly a unique and wonderful experience. I loved this story so so so so much. And the romance was delicious.

#the untamed #xiao zhan #wang yibo #lan wangji #wei wuxian #lan zhan #wei ying #cdrama

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mcsmmafia · 3 years

Text

MC:SM Mafia - Round I 🪓

THE 1ST ROUND OF MAFIA

It was a stormy thunder night, you were lost and zombies were groaning after your flesh. All you asked for was to have a roof over your head and a torch and maybe some food. And then you just saw this big, old mansion... it didn't even look as spooky from the outside. Maybe the soak and smell of rotten flesh distorted your view a little.

Anyway, in a situation like this, most people would find it a reasonable decision to go inside and stay for the night, right? Or was it?

Well, at least those other guests won't blame you.

They all went inside, just like you did. And they all got a white pumpkin put over their head by an invisible hand – a trap. For some reason, you couldn't even pull it off... probably a binding curse.

So now you're trapped, because going outside was no option, unless you wanted to become zombie food. And since the rain and the thunder didn't seem to go away soon... torches remained your only source of light.

But all the torches in the mansion couldn't light up the mystery that was hidden in this mansion. You weren't exactly sure why, but someone among the guests was... different. Like, weird. Unpredictable.

It was only a matter of time that you found a dead body in front of your door in the room you were sleeping in so soundly.

Innocent guests, it is time.

To find.

CASSIE ROSE!

thunder roll

☀ Results of Day 1:

Xara detained Gill and Jack.

🌑 Results of Night 1:

Xara stayed in the entrance hall and kept on watch the whole night.

Harper chose to go to the library and investigate the room for traps. She was sucessful, and so the trap didn't kill her. Good job!

Radar went to the living room and lay down, waiting for their near-death-experience. And... he died. He got hit by a trap! Daaang!

Ellegaard chose to go to the attic and hit the hay, praying that no one will murder her in her sleep. And she remained alive. Lucky!

Petra too went to the attic to sleep in pure safety.

Gill went for the bed champer... again. And he was alone. AGAIN. Déjà-vu! Knowing that he's stuck in a time loop, he flew to the attic. And he survived. Seems like he's writing a new story now.

Jesse decided to just hit the hay in the attic.

CASSIE sneaked into the kitchen and set off a trap in the library, the living room and the gallery each, grinning evilly.

Jack followd the crowd to the attic and caught some good sleep.

Stella... did basically what everyone else did. Up to the attic and sleep. Good decision.

Radar has died!

🌒 Results of Night 2:

Gill and Jack agreed in peace to let themselves get detained by Xara so they could proove their innocence. Xara poked them all night and thus prevented them from falling asleep.

Harper went hiding in the attic so that she could get some rest.

Ellegaard sneaked to the bed champer, hoping that no one will kill jer tonight in their sleep.h

Petra stayed in the attic to sleep.

Jesse's curiosity lured them to the library. They chose to stay awake and see who the murderer might be. While they were staring into the flames of the chimney to try and keep their eyes open, suddenly, the ground under them disappeared, leading them to fall deep and die. Darn!

CASSIE sent Winslow to lurk to the attic and see who's are hiding up there. She then went to the living room, entered the secret passage way and set off traps in the library, kitchen and the dining room.

Stella went to the dining room, but got uneasy and decided to flee back to the attic and sleep, leading Cassie's trap to fail! Hurray.

Jesse has died!

☀ Results of Day 3:

No votes were being made.

However, the deads seem to have gotten bored and disturbed the peace we totally had. Moving cups and one object whispered out loud "Deez nuts". And a lamp shaked in disapprove. Yeah, we ain't gonna forget that. It was very spooky.

🌓 Results of Night 3:

Xara, being mega tired, dragged herself to the attic to finally get some rest.

Jack convinced Harper to follow him to the dining room, promising he'd protect her in her sleep. But as soon as Harper closed her eyes and drifted away in the land of sleep, Jack sneaked to the dining table and pressed the button towards Harper, activating a trap and killing her! Damn, what a betrayal at a sleepover!

Ellegaard chose to stay in the bed chamber as it seemed safe. This night she stayed up late though, to keep out an eye for traps – and sucessfully avoiding being killed by Cassie tonight. You can never be too careful!

Petra stayed in the attic and slept again. Pff.

Gill first couldn't bring himself to move as the pillows were so comfortable, but then later the worries won and he decided to spent the rest of the night in the attic, taking the disbenefit of having to sleep on the hard, cold floor.

CASSIE sent Winslow to the bed chamber while bringing herself to the library to set off traps in the bed chamber, the kitchen and the gallery.

Stella convinced Lluna to try and steal Xara's weapon; she herself went to sleep in the attic. Sadly, Xara didn't have any weapons on her.

Harper has died!

☀ Results of Day 4:

Xara decided to detain CASSIE and she could do nothing against it. Also, Xara had a very strong feeling that CASSIE was the murderer. Damn, teleptahic skills, obviously.

Jack tried to convince the group that Harper must have died in the dining room, and that they should try to find out about her roommate. Nobody seemed to suspect anything, despite his odd behaviour. Really?

🌔 Results of Night 4:

Xara detained CASSIE and tried to make her uncomfortable so she couldn't sleep. However, CASSIE didn't seem to mind the staring contest and slept soundly.

Ellegaard wanted to team up with Gill to avoid anything bad happening in the bed chamber tonight, but then decided to sleep anyway.

Petra decided that it was finally time to get out of the dusty attic and sleep in the kitchen.

Gill went for the bed chamber again, but eventually became uncalm and ran to the attic to be safe for sleep.

Jack dragged himself to the attic to immediately fall asleep.

Stella didn't know what to do, so she stayed in the entrance hall and did nothing but sit in the corner and ignore the groanting of the zombies outside.

☀ Results of Day 5:

Ellegaard waited for someone to volunteer to detain CASSIE, but no one was offering, so she took the job herself.

🌕 Results of Night 5:

Xara slept in the attic. What else to do.

Ellegaard dragged CASSIE to the closet and locked it up paranoidal three times, but was chill to let her sleep.

Petra thought that staying in the kitchen and sleep another night was a good idea.

Gill attended the sleep session in the attic. Is the time for comfortable beds over for good?

Jack thought it was a nice night to not kill someone and went to sleep in the attic.

And so did Stella.

The Last Day ☀

Since nobody got hurt during the two nights CASSIE was locked up, Ellegaard suggested to throw her out. Gill, Jack and Petra went right with her; only Stella said it might be a risk.

As soon as nightfall came, Ellegaard, Gill, Jack and Petra worked together to apprehend CASSIE. They chased her through all the rooms, but eventually managed to surround her in the bed chamber, which was still Gill's favourite place.

With combined power, they grabbed CASSIE by arms and foot and dragged her to the front door in the entrance hall, giving her no chance to fight back.

Arrived there, they built up momentum and throwed her out for good.

CASSIE wishpered "You got me, Y a y" sarcastically as she see the zombies approaching, and eventually, she became dinner to the endless masses of zombies.

This night, everybody slept very well.

They were woken up by the first few beams of the sun they hadn't seen for 6 days. The thunderstorm has finally stopped, and so all the zombies were grilled in the light of day. What a beautiful morning.

And so they decided to escape the mansion- wait. One more thing.

How would they get these damn ugly pumpkins off?! ... Okay. Welp, NOTHING was alright! What a terrible stroke of fate!

On the bright side though, at least there were enough pumpkins left to make pie. Mhmm.

The guests have won the game! 🪓

#mcsm #episode 6 #mafia

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aleteia-ff · 4 years

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A Decade To Find You - 1

Also read on: AO3 | FF.net

I proudly present the first part of my Modern AU Hiccstrid New Year’s Eve Story! I hope you enjoy :)

Summary: Astrid didn't think much of the guy she bumped into just after midnight on January 1, 2010. It was just a hasty apology, a quip and a lop-sided grin from his side. It wasn't supposed to be special.

Hiccup felt the same way. That was, until he locked eyes with her again one year later. And the year after that. And the next.

But somehow, their destinies only seemed to intertwine that one night a year... On New Year's Eve.

Chapter 1: New Year’s Eve 2009-2012

January 1st, 2010

Astrid didn't really party the way some of her peers did. She didn't sneak out or come up with poor excuses to get wasted with other teens after managing to get her hands on booze through older siblings. That wasn't like her. But that didn't mean she didn't seize opportunities, nor didn't know how to have a good time. So when her friends from kickboxing had asked her to join them in the inner city, she'd shot every piece of ammunition she had at her parents to convince them that at sixteen, she was responsible enough to stay out past midnight. She was basically an adult, after all. And after she'd promised that she wouldn't do anything stupid, let alone illegal, they'd let her go.

Luckily, you didn't have to break the law to have a good time on New Year's Eve in Berk. The large annual winter market in the town's central square stayed around until after New Year's, serving all kinds of food and beverages at its stalls. She'd spent most of that night at the ice rink, but had gathered with her friends at the riverside just before midnight, joining in on the countdown and watching the fireworks when the clock hit midnight, announcing the arrival of the new decade.

Now, she was hopping from one feet onto the other, waiting at one of the stalls and trying to stay warm in the trademark Berkian cold. The line had been killing and she cursed herself for not going further into the city and trying her luck there. But her worries were forgotten when she accepted the two mugs of hot chocolate into her freezing hands.

She turned around, looking through the crowd in an attempt to figure out where Heather was. Her friend had run into her brother and there was no telling what Dagur might be up to... But his red hair and tattooed face did stand out from the crowd.

She squeezed herself through the masses, cradling the mugs to her chest, alternating between craning her neck and standing up on her toes. Finally, after starting to wonder whether she was even going the right way at all and looking behind her, she saw a familiar arm wave at her. She instantly turned around, heading the other way.

Her foot landed on something hard, making her stumble and bump into someone, all after only taking one step.

"Sorry!" a nasal voice yelped.

She was too stunned to reply as hot chocolate spilt over her chest, dripping down and soaking her coat, the heat making her instinctively jump backwards. "Fuck!"

"Oh Gods, I'm so sorry!"

She looked up - no, down - at the culprit. A skinny boy, about her age. His green - really green, Holy Thor - eyes were blown wide with shock and he was fidgeting with his hands, seemingly unsure of whether he should put them to use or whether that would bring about the impending apocalyptic events of 2012 two years too early. It was endearing, and while she normally would have had to suppress the urge to punch her assailant straight in the jaw, she found she simply couldn't. Because there was something in his look, so innocent, so sincere, that simply calmed her down.

"It's okay," she told him, looking down at the brown stain on her coat. Luckily, it didn't feel like it had reached her sweater underneath.

"No, it's totally my fault, I should have looked, I -" he mumbled, looking helpless as he rubbed the back of his head, messing up his auburn hair. "I was distracted, and I'm just so, so stupid, I don't know how -"

"It's okay, really," she repeated, slightly patting herself. "It's a way to stay warm, I suppose."

"It's not, I completely ruined your coat." He reached out towards her, but then retracted his hands, gesturing himself up and down. "Do you want mine, or?"

"No, it's fine, really," she insisted, following his gaze downward and finally realising what had made her trip. "I stepped on your foot, after all."

The guy looked down again, his two eyebrows shooting up. "You did?"

"I mean it was strangely hard, but..." she mumbled.

"Oh..." he grinned awkwardly. "That must be me." He leaned forward and grabbed his left foot, lifting it up and pulling up his pant leg... To reveal a piece of metal.

His lips curled into a lopsided smile. "Fake foot."

"Oh my Thor," she gasped. "How...?" She didn't know why she was asking - he was a complete stranger. But a part of her wanted to know.

"Accident," he shrugged. "Happened this year, so I'm still getting used to it. Or I suppose it's last year now, since it's after midnight. Hurray!"

She wanted to laugh, to shake her head at him, felt the corners of her lips twitching upwards, but realised in time that it would be hugely inappropriate.

"I'm so sorry," was all she could come up with instead.

"Eh," he casually said, his shoulders moving more than any normal person's ever would. "It happens. And I thought I was the one doing the apologising here."

"My jacket's not expensive, don't worry," she reassured him. She preferred practicality above anything else and this coat was exactly that. "I'm sure it'll come right out. And I'm not nearly insecure enough to let it ruin my night." She gave him a cocky smile. "I'll punch anyone who dares to try."

"So I simply got lucky?" the guy tried.

"So far, yes," she teased.

The guy pretended to gulp and look panicked before his expression relaxed into a smile. "At least let me pay for the dry cleaner." He fumbled with his own jacket, seemingly looking for something. "If I can find my wallet, that is."

"It's fine, my mom probably knows how to wash it out herself," she tried again, but he kept patting himself down. "You didn't get robbed, right?"

"Oh, no, the odds of that are rather low. My dad's a cop," he explained, laughing awkwardly. "He makes sure I'm one hundred percent pickpocket-proof before even thinking of leaving the house. Which has this -" He gestured at himself. "As the very charming result."

"Then perhaps you should leave it that way," she suggested.

"Yeah, that's probably..." He mulled for a moment, biting his lip and reaching into the back pocket of his jeans but coming up with nothing. "Yeah - I think you're right. Sorry, again."

"Let it go," she told him, finding herself smiling again. She gestured with the two mugs in her hand. "It's just hot chocolate."

"Is there even anything left?"

She peered into the mugs and shrugged. "Enough for one, at least."

"Then let me pay for new ones."

She pulled up an eyebrow. "And watch you go through your whole wallet-searching routine again? Charming offer, but no, thank you." He looked slightly offended, to which she decided to press the other mug into his hands. "Here, take it."

He took it from her only because she forced him to, sputtering. "I can't -"

"I'll just give this one to my friend." She gestured at the brown stain on her clothes. "I think I've had enough for tonight."

"Again, I'm sorry -"

"Again, it's okay."

"Are you really sure?" the guy tried again, looking pensive.

"I am," she nodded. "Sounds like you had a shitty 2009, with your leg and all. A shitty decade, for all I know. I just want to make sure this one starts out better."

He looked like he wanted to speak up again, but she held up her hand. "I'm not letting you give it back!"

She backed away after properly looking over her shoulder this time. "Enjoy your night!"

He just stood there, flabbergasted. "You too..."

With that, she disappeared back into the crowd, finally making her way back to Heather, a smile on her face she hadn't even realised was there until her best friend asked what had made her so cheery.

But she waved it off.

It was something she didn't really think she could explain.

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

December 31st, 2010

Hiccup was oddly reminded of a donkey on this year's New Year's Eve. Most importantly, the saying that even donkeys didn't hit their toe on the same stone twice in a row. Yet somehow, he had managed to let Snotlout convince him to go with him to the inner city of Berk again.

He didn't really know what kind of animal that made him, but he figured it didn't speak in his favour. Perhaps something without a brain. A jellyfish, maybe, just waiting to be inevitably washed up on a beach, then stepped on by a tourist, which would prompt the tourist's friends to pee on their leg. After a heated debate on whether urine did or did not actually help against jellyfish stings, a question no one really knew the answer too.

Or he could, for once, make life easy for the rest of the world and simply settle for being a sea cucumber. Those seemed rather cool. And he could, in Hiccup fashion, enlighten other sea creatures on how he was, in fact, not a green-tinted, edible vegetable, unlike his land-born brethren.

But his father worked on New Year's Eve anyways and he didn't really have anything better to do. So instead of chilling on the ocean floor, he was semi-freezing and sensing his impending demise as he stepped onto the white, slippery field of doom that was known as Berk's Winter Wonderland ice skating rink.

He didn't get what people thought was so fun about literally venturing onto thin ice. He never had. And that hadn't really changed now that he had only one properly functioning foot.

It would be fine, Snotlout had said. He had had the prosthetic for over a year by now, and, as his cousin put it so delicately, 'he already tripped over his own feet way less often than when he still had two of them'. So certainly, he could do this.

Hiccup had told Snot, Fishlegs and the twins to go ahead so he wouldn't embarrass himself too heavily. Fishlegs hovered nevertheless, but did bring up the courtesy to look away.

He carefully put his good foot on the ice, only slipping slightly, and held himself up on the wooden banister. Slowly, he let his second skate join the first, putting the iron down and trying to adjust to the weird sensation of his prosthetic sliding underneath him. But he didn't fall. That was something.

"Are you okay, Hiccup?" he heard Fishlegs ask.

He didn't dare to look up, keeping his eyes firmly fixated on his skates. "Okay would be a big word... But it could be worse."

"Just take it slow," Fishlegs told him, almost sounding more nervous than Hiccup himself felt.

Only for Fish's tender words to be immediately diminished by Snotlout skating by at high speed. "Come on, cuz, move!"

Hiccup shook his head and scowled, but forced himself to move anyways, pushing his right skate off the ice and letting the other glide along, while still holding on to the banister as if it was the only thing between him and utter humiliation.

It probably was. He could already hear Non Je Ne Regrette Rien play in the back of his head, announcing the inevitable fall of this story's tragic but not quite Leonardo DiCaprio-like protagonist the way it had in Inception.

He bet Leo knew how to ice-skate. Not that that would have helped him in Titanic, like a bigger floating door would have. But then again, Leo could do it all with two legs. And stuntmen.

Fuck, he'd love to have a stuntman right now.

And he wouldn't say no to having sex in a car with 1997 Kate Winslet either.

He slowly shuffled forward, letting his left skate slide calmly while his right did all the work. Surprisingly, it didn't go as badly as he'd expected it to. He dared to go further, letting go of the banister, daring to put some pressure on his left leg and start the motion from there.

The Gods struck him down for his hubris as soon as he tried, leaving him scrambling for his wooden saviour as he nearly fell face first onto the ice.

He pulled himself back up, leaning on the banister and looking out, pretending not to hear Fishlegs call out to him in concern. It was already dark, Berk's square lit by Christmas lights along with all the stalls and shops that feasted on holiday tourists. It was busy, this day belonging to the Berkians themselves above all, but he didn't pick out any familiar faces in the crowd.

Until he saw her.

He had mostly repressed the memory of the first person he'd met in the new decade, given that he'd immediately embarrassed himself by causing her to spill hot chocolate all over her coat. Just some Hiccup Haddock smoothness, right there.

But there she was, in the crowd. Her blond hair braided over her shoulder, a smile on her face as she talked to her friends. She was wearing a different jacket this year, a dark blue one that somehow suited her even better. He hoped that hadn't been his fault, that he hadn't completely ruined the red coat she'd worn the year before. But he was too self-conscious to go up to her and ask. Especially because moving at all on the death traps bound to his fake and real foot could only lead to disaster.

She probably didn't want to talk to him anyways. From the way she looked, the way she acted, the way she smiled he could make out that he was way below her on the notorious teen social ladder. She was undoubtedly popular. He was all too happy in his nerd corner. It'd never work.

Not that he believed in the strict segregation the way High School Musical portrayed it, but some people simply didn't match. It was better to, as the Wildcats put it so pointedly, 'stick to the status quo'.

And then her eyes met his.

She looked surprised to see him - Berk was at least a middle-sized town, after all, what were the odds? They hadn't seen each other since his clumsiness had miraculously resulted into a free mug of hot chocolate.

But once she seemed to have recovered from that shock - he hadn't, he was gaping, desperately willing his brain to update to Windows 7 instead of clinging to Vista and claiming that particular piece of garbage wasn't Microsoft's biggest mistake of the last decade - her lips relaxed into a soft smile that made his heart jump.

He glanced down at his skates, hoping she'd understand why he looked even more helpless than the last and only time they'd met. He hauled himself up further, trying to stand up straight - his growth spurt was finally setting in - and retain some of his dignity.

Her smile widened, like she'd understood, and she gave him two genuine thumbs up before turning back to her friends and disappearing into the crowd.

She'd gone as soon as she'd came. But he found himself grinning nevertheless, feeling more encouraged than he had all evening.

Perhaps ice skating wasn't that bad after all.

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

January 1st, 2012

This was the year. Or so Astrid had been told. Supposedly "the most amazing New Year's yet!".

She didn't think holding Heather's hair back as she threw up quite qualified as that, but at least her best friend had seemed to be having a good time. Right up until the moment she'd turned green and had rushed to the club's bathroom with Astrid running after her.

Astrid hadn't seen the appeal of turning eighteen and being allowed to drink herself. She had enough going on, tournaments to attend in January, a brain to spare for the university she was trying to get into. But she was nothing if not supportive, and she loved her friends more than herself. At least, that was the mantra she silently repeated in her head as Heather hurled into the toilet yet again.

She got her phone from her pocket, sliding the screen up to reveal the keyboard - it was simply quicker and way more convenient than typing on a touchscreen - and searched for Dagur's number. He would undoubtedly go berserk in his own way - he'd given them the 'big brother talk' before they'd headed into the city - but she'd rather deal with him than with Heather's parents. Especially Mr. Oswaldsson wouldn't be too... agreeable.

"Hello!?" Dagur shouted from the other side of the line, hardly audible above the beat of Party Rock Anthem in the background.

"Hey, Dagur, it's me!" she yelled back before realising there was no need to, cringing when her voice echoed through the stalls. Heather simply groaned.

"’Sup, Hofferson?"

"I need to get Heather home," she told him. "We got here by bike, but that could take ages, so I figured that, perhaps, you could take her on your scooter..."

"She's wasted, isn't she?" Dagur's obvious disappointment was ironically punctuated by LMFAO insisting that party rock was in the house tonight, and that everybody should just have a good time.

Heather shook her head at her, part of her black braid unceremoniously sticking to her face, but Astrid didn't think her capable of making any decisions right now. "Yep."

"On my way. Where are you?"

"Not So Silent Sven's Party Hut."

Dagur hung up immediately, leaving Astrid to haul Heather up onto her shoulder while her friend insisted she was fine and could walk by herself, only to immediately demonstrate the opposite. They struggled until they reached the door, somehow managing to get their coats before escaping onto the streets, the Berkian winter air pleasant after the suffocating heat of the club.

They hung outside for a bit, waiting for Heather to sober up, but eventually stumbled further towards the main road, hoping to catch Dagur on his way. They had to dodge a lot of party goers who could hold their liquor better, along with teens who had fallen into the same pitfall Heather had. She felt a particular amount of sympathy for the dark-haired guy they passed, who was patting his skinny brunette friend on his back while he hurled the contents of his stomach into the snow, the sound alone enough to make Heather gulp again.

When they passed them, the sick fellow looked up at her, their eyes meeting.

Astrid had only seen that combination of awkwardness and Oh my Thor what am I doing twice before.

She waved at Fake Foot Guy, shooting him the kindest smile she could muster up without bursting into giggles.

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

January 1st, 2013

2012 had been a good year for Hiccup. Somehow, he hadn't brought about the end of the world the Mayas had prophesied would come to pass. Even though he, the twins, Snotlout and Fishlegs had been convinced that if anyone would be able to cause an accident of global scale, it was Hiccup. Yet he had managed to enter university, where, as his father put it, his destructive tendencies were finally channelled into a proper education to become an engineer.

Living away from home wasn't abysmal either. If he was being honest, the train connection from Berk to university wasn't so bad that he had necessarily had to move out, but he figured it'd be good for him. It had certainly taught him a lot of things. How to open a can of pineapple slices without a can opener. How to separate white and coloured laundry. How to avoid salmonella. How to handle suddenly being six feet tall. How to cover up shaving cuts. And how to say no to more alcohol than he could handle.

It was the reason he wasn't in the same condition he was last year and that it felt good to be back in Berk to celebrate New Year's. Because he knew he wouldn't embarrass himself. Or at least, not by vomiting into the snow.

Of course Hot Chocolate Girl had walked by on his lowest point of the night.

Part of him wondered if she was perhaps some kind of spirit, there to feed on his awkwardness and the chaos he left in his wake. Then again, he'd only seen her three times, and his disaster-track record was much better than that. Three was a rookie number.

By the time it was 2 AM and Tuffnut dragged them into a club that he swore was even more awesome than the previous one, Hiccup had started to believe he might not see her on New Year's Eve for the first time this decade. He didn't know why he wanted to see her - he had no idea who she was, after all, didn't even have a clue about her name. But he remembered her smile, her bright blue eyes, the way her blond hair framed her face perfectly...

The exact same features as those of the girl he suddenly spotted on the dance floor, grinding up against a tall, handsome dark-haired stranger he didn't recognise. She was wearing a dress that remained blue in the club's lighting and fit her figure beautifully. It was the first time he properly saw her without a coat on, and he was struck by just how gorgeous she was. He'd had an idea, but it clearly hadn't been completely accurate.

She might be the most stunning woman he'd ever seen. Even in her current state, her hair messed up, her eyes glazed over, muddled by alcohol as they miraculously met his. He didn't know if she recognised him. She didn't seem to. But he couldn't look away.

Not even when she turned around to the stranger behind her, wrapping her arms around his neck and drawing him down into a kiss, the two of them making out as if no one was watching them. And he probably shouldn't be. He wanted to simply think 'good for her', to be happy that she was having a good time. But instead, he found his heart stinging with something unfamiliar. A kind of hurt he couldn't quite place.

He didn't mind when Ruffnut hooked her arm into his and pulled him back outside, remarking that Tuffnut had horrible taste and that they were going somewhere else. And even though he didn't do anything particularly stupid the rest of the night, he couldn't help but feel like somewhere, deep down, he was a bit of a fool.

He just couldn't pinpoint why.

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter! I hope the second one will come soon. I plan for there to be 3, all the way up until we reach New Year's Eve 2019...

#hiccstrid #hiccup #astrid #httyd #httyd fanfiction #fanfiction #aleteia-writes #a decade to find you #there are so many references in here from my childhood #gods

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starscheme · 5 years

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With All My Heart

Chapter Twenty: Just a Nightmare

Steven was sitting on the floor, holding Spinel close to his chest as she lay in his arms in silence. He wasn’t sure what caused this, but he couldn’t help panicking. Why did it always seem the moment they were happy, something went wrong? And why was it always Spinel that had to suffer?

“Steven, that Sodalite Gem had the same eyes. They were all blacked out. She might be the one doing this.” Lars suggested. “You should try and find her. If you fix her Gem, maybe this will stop. I can stay and look after Spinel,” he offered, sure that Steven wouldn’t want to leave her alone.

Steven tightened his hold on Spinel gently, staring down at her dark eyes. Leaving her with Lars wasn’t going to hurt her, but he didn’t want to let her go. “…I…what if something happens while I’m gone? I don’t even know what’s happening to her.”

“Well we can’t fix it unless you heal that other Gem. I’m positive this is because of her,” replied Lars, kneeling down so they were at level with each other. “Here, we can lay her down on the couch.”

“NO!” Steven shouted as he hugged her close. He was scared. As if he left her, something terrible would happen and he wouldn’t be able to help her. “J-just give me a minute!”

Lars groaned quietly, unsure how to convince Steven to leave her and help the other Gem. Why weren’t Pearl or Amethyst home? He could really use their help right now. As he was trying to figure out what to do, he started to notice the room getting darker. Was this Sodalite’s doing too? “Steven, give me Spinel!” Lars demanded. If Sodalite was really closing in like this darkness was, it would be harder for Steven to handle her while Spinel was unconscious.

When Steven saw Lars reaching over to pull Spinel away from him, he found himself smacking his hands away before he could stop himself. He knew Lars was just trying to help them, but something inside of him was fogging over any rational thought. “Don’t touch her!” snapped Steven.

“Steven…your eye…” Lars began, staring in panicked concern at Stevens face. One of Steven’s eyes had been blacked out. Was that the reason he was getting so emotional? This alarmed Lars even further. Steven was supposed to be the rational one. Finally, Lars took a deep breath to calm himself down. If this thing was affecting Steven now, he’d have to handle this as best he could. He led the off colors through space; it appeared he’d have to take the lead once again.

Steven could feel his body getting heavy and weak, finding it difficult to hold onto Spinel. He looked up at Lars and began to panic when he saw his mother, Rose Quartz, standing next to his friend. “M-Mom?!” Steven exclaimed in shock.

His mother and Lars turned to face Steven at the same time. “What did you say?” asked Lars, though his voice sounded muffled and far away.

“You didn’t protect her,” his mother began irately. “Look what you did!”

Steven felt a terrible rush of fear as he glanced back down at Spinel slowly. Somehow, he body was gone and all he held in his hands now were the shattered pieces of her Gem. His heart stopped and for a moment he felt like he couldn’t breathe. “N…NO! This isn’t real!!” Steven shouted as he closed his eyes tight so he wouldn’t have to see the shards or his mother’s cold stare. “I know this isn’t real! You’re gone…and Spinel…she was just here…” He spoke aloud, doing his best to remind himself that he was just seeing things. He had to break from these delusions. If he was having visions, Spinel probably was too.

Lars was confused. Steven was yelling at someone that he clearly couldn’t see. Was it because of his eye? “Steven,” Lars began, kneeling down in front of him to place his hands at his shoulders in an attempt to focus his attention. “You need to focus,” he demanded, “Spinel needs your help! Remember, it’s okay to be afraid, you just have to keep going!”

As Lars called out to him, Steven could hear his voice getting clearer and clearer. He kept his eyes closed so he could focus on his own thoughts, rather than the visions that threatened him. Lars was right, Spinel needed his help. He couldn’t let himself give in to this fear. He told Spinel that they could get through anything together; he just had to think of the things that made him the happiest. Thinking of his friends, his family, his body was already starting to feel lighter. The last thing he remembered was Spinel’s smile. He had a lot of memories of her cheerful face and he couldn’t help but smile as he recalled her joyful expression. Though he felt much better, he still opened his eyes cautiously, worried he might still have those shards in his hands. When he finally opened his eyes however, he saw Lars staring back at him with a relieved smile.

“Your eye is back to normal!” Lars exclaimed happily.

Steven smiled back and looked down at Spinel, though her eyes were still dark, she was in his arms, safe and sound. He hugged her close, noting how the darkness in the room was slowly starting to creep away. Was their fear what brought those shadows here? “Spinel…” Steven began softly, placing his hand over her Gem tenderly. “…I know you can hear me. …I need you to wake up. You’re not in this alone. Remember, we won’t go through anything alone. I’m here.” While he spoke, Spinel’s gem and his own began to glow. In the blink of an eye, Steven was no longer in his home holding Spinel. Somehow, he was now in the Garden. Had he connected with Spinel’s Gem? Is this what she was seeing?

“Spinel,” Steven called out as he slowly scanned the area. At first it seemed like she was nowhere to be found, but then he heard the faint sound her sobs. He rushed towards her voice, finding her kneeling among some dead flowers as vines tangled her legs to the ground. “Spinel! I’m here!” Steven shouted, getting down onto the ground with her.

“Steven…?” Spinel started, slowly looking up at him with tears flooding her eyes. “…but you...”

“This is just a nightmare, Spinel,” replied Steven softly, reaching over and pulling her into a gentle embrace. “It’s not real. There will never be a time when I leave you alone…”

Spinel wanted to believe him. She didn’t like being alone here without him, but if this wasn’t real, was this another illusion? Was she being held in his arms only to be abandoned again after? It was then that she remembered what Steven told her before. If she was seeing something scary or she felt alone, she had to think of something that made her happy. That would be easy; there were so many things that made her happy. However, the thing she knew would work best was what always calmed her down. Closing her eyes, Spinel focused hard on the sweet sound of Steven’s heartbeat. The gentle thumping of his heart against her ear, it became all she could hear and the awful feelings of dread faded away.

With a small smile, Spinel opened her eyes, finding herself staring up at Steven as he held her in his arms. The garden was gone and they were back inside the house. “Where…?” she began sleepily, not quite sure what had happened. Did she fall asleep?

Steven and Lars sighed in relief. The darkness had vanished from the room and from Spinel’s eyes. Without answering her question, Steven leaned down and planted a soft kiss against her lips. “Welcome back,” he whispered with a smile.

Spinel blushed, glancing over at Lars who was sitting beside Steven. “Uh…Lars is right there…” she reminded Steven bashfully.

“What happened?” A distraught voice rang out, alarming the trio as they looked up to see Sodalite standing just a few feet away. She looked confused and upset. “It’s not fair. …Why aren’t you scared? Why am I the only one? I don’t want to feel this way all alone! You should all feel just as terrible!”

The three got to their feet and Spinel reached out her hand with a cautious smile. “…that’s the thing; you don’t have to be alone. We can help you…”

Sodalite stared at Spinel’s hand apprehensively, afraid that this was some sort of trick. She couldn’t feel as much fear or anxiety from these Gems, that didn’t mean she trusted them. Those feelings could come back at any moment and hurt her again. She’d followed Lars when he ran off because she didn’t feel anything terrible from him, but that just led her here with these other Gems. Still, they had somehow managed to stifle their bad feelings. Could they do that for her too?

Sodalite glanced at Lars and the pink skinned young man smiled at her, stepping forward and grabbing her hand. He knew that she wasn’t afraid of him and she seemed so much calmer than before. While Lars kept Soadlite’s attention, Steven made his way over to them and licked his hand to place his palm over Sodalite’s broken Gem at her shoulder.

With a light gasp, her Gem began to glow and the large crack down the center filled in, making her Gem whole once again. The darkness that covered Sodalite’s eyes had vanished, revealing gentle, crystal blue hues. The Gem stared out in shock for a moment before she took a deep breath, “…Th-thank you…” she exhaled happily. Her whole body felt lighter than air once again now that all those collected dark feelings were gone. They had been so heavy.

“I know you just got better…” Steven began, “…but do you remember what you did with Ruby and Sapphire?”

“Oh! …yes but…won’t they be angry with me? …I didn’t mean to hurt anyone—I just …” Sodalite started anxiously. Though the collected negative feelings were gone, she was still nervous.

Steven shook his head, “Don’t worry, it wasn’t your fault. You’re all better now.”

Sodalite sighed softly and held out her hands to manifest the black bubbles that held the two Gems. Steven smiled and as the bubbles popped, he took the two Gems in his hands. Garnet would be back soon, they could heal Lapis safely now, and no more Gems would be seeing those terrible things. Finally, all the commotion over the last few days would calm down, right?

A/N: Sodalite is fixed and Garnet will soon return! Hurray! There is only one more thing that Steven and Spinel need to sort out. The next Chapter will the last one, but I hope you all will look forward to the Sequel, “Only You.”

#steven universe #su #steven universe fanfic #stevinel #stevinel fanfic #fanfiction #with all my heart #chapter 20 #SU au #cg spinel #sodalite #lars

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sweetcatmintea · 4 years

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Semantics

Flash fiction Friday! Hurray :3 I’m so tired haha, so I’ll just drop this and go. Couldn’t say no to a wonderland episode ow<~* Hope you enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated 💜

FFF is organised by the wonderful @flashfictionfridayofficial

Prompt: Strange lands Words: 1016 Characters: Storm and the Cheshire Cat

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Everything smelled so sweet, like jam and cream. Sweet and swirling and sickening and the sooner Storm could get back to something with a semblance of reality, the better. Try as he might to fight it, frustration frosted his chest, devouring the building anxiety and growing stronger with each minute he spent lost in these weird woods. Fists clenched and unclenched at his sides as he rounded, you guessed it, another tree. The leaves brushed each other like chuckling rice maracas, dappling shadows somehow darker than the surrounding inkiness to dance along with the tempo. The darkness was more than a simple absence of light. It was a presence in itself. It was as though a beast of void had settled to rest, filling the space with the hum of its breathing where there should have been silence. It was disconcerting, if he let his mind linger too long, which he endeavoured not to do. Despite the darkness, he could still see. Or rather, he understood what should have been seen. Man, this place was giving him a headache.

He paused, leaning against the rough bark of an ashen birch. It didn’t matter how much air he drew in, he couldn’t scent anything beyond its jammy tang. He just had to keep searching. He’d find Echo, get them the hell out of there, and thoroughly lecture her about wondering off. Again.

Just stay focussed.

He moved to continue on, but a furred flash under foot had him careening backwards, almost tripping over himself in his efforts not to crush the thing. It was something like a mouse. If it had been mixed with a mushroom. The fungal creature flared its neck frills at the insult of its near maiming, darting off again before he could react.

“Strange. This place, it’s so… strange.”

“We usually prefur curious,” A voice purred into his ear, “curiouser and curiouser, as the saying goes.”

Storm bolted back, pivoting on his heel to face the stranger. Ears pinned back, fists raised, he was ready for immediate counterattack. His shoulders dropped, confusion slacking the tension. He’d almost punched a cat in its grinning face. It hadn’t been there a minute ago. He’d have noticed.

“Aww, you didn’t even scream. How disappointing.” He lolled onto his back, staring at Storm with big amber eyes. If he’d wanted to look disappointed, it wasn’t a convincing display.

It wasn’t often Storm was dumbstruck. The words tumbled out of his mouth, the only sentence his brain could produce.

“I don’t talk to animals.”

The cat pouted, dripping lazily off the branch, suspending himself instead in the air. “Maybe they don’t talk to you. I wouldn’t blame them. You are terribly rude.” He hissed a laugh, putting his paw to his grin like a cutesy text icon. “I’ll furgive you if you make an exception for me~.”

Not bothering to wait for an answer, he floated closer, wrapping himself around Storm’s shoulders. What kind of cat smells like smoke and spices?

“I’m curious, you see. Curious about what you’re doing wandering around our quaint little world. They call it a wonderland you know. And yet, here you are looking all ruffled. Hmmm, are you purrhaps struggling with those demons that like to take up residence in human heads? Alices have a habit of finding themselves here. You’ve got a lot too, I can tell. Nasty little creatures.”

Storm shoed him off. “What, no. I’m just looking for my sister.”

The cat didn’t seem to care, floating wherever he saw fit. “Not a rabbit? Shame. I could tell you were he is.”

“No. My sister, Echo.”

“Echo, echo, echo.” The cat vanished and reappeared further away three times, one for each repetition. He reappeared, a puff of stirred smoke, back on his branch.

“Well, there are three echoes for you. Wasn’t that an easy quest.” His tail curled with mirth as Storm’s jaw clenched. Why was he wasting his time with this stupid cat?

Because it was the only lead he had. He took a deep breath, biting back the frustration.

“My sister. Have you seen her? She’s seven, about this tall, black hair, mute, has a toy sheep.”

The cat’s grin widened, “Oh yes, the lovely little kitten who came through. Such a sweet thing, nothing like you. You’re so sour.” If he noticed Storm’s glare, he didn’t react. “I sent her along her merry way.”

Storm perked up. “Where did you send her?” He didn’t know whether to be furious that the cat wasted so much time or relieved that he might finally get a trail.

“To the Hatter of course. He and the March Hare are having a tea party. It’ll be a splendid little affair. Oh, but don’t worry Big Brother, they’re quite mad so she’ll be perfectly safe. They will have a marvellous time, I’m sure. Then along to the unicorn and the lion. Such silly creatures, those two. You would probably like them. I couldn’t recommend them, but I did purromise an introduction and what is a cat without his word?”

The cat blathered on; Storm’s fur bristled. “What do you mean they’re mad?”

“They’ve lost their heads, naturally. It makes for an excellent baker but a terrible conversationalist, I’m afraid.”

Storm fought to keep his cool. Ice crackled up his wrists and through his feathers. Through gritted teeth, he managed to ask, “Can you tell me where they are.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly do that!”

His teeth creaked under the pressure. “Why not?”

“I simply can’t direct you! You’re terribly mad. I wouldn’t want to be around you for so long. Sour is one thing, but I’ve never been partial to spiciness.” He sighed, still grinning.

“Please tell me.”

“Okay, here’s what we will do, I think you’ll like this, I’m going to go and then, when you’re more palatable, I’ll come back. A very joyous reunion, I’m sure. Then I will no longer be unable to tell you what you want to know. Cheerio Big Brother!”

“Wait!” But he was already gone. Damn. What was Storm going to do now?

—

Tag List

@snobbysnekboi, @inkovert, @kainablue, @i-rove-rock-n-roll, and @goblin-writer

#original writing #writblr #story #short story #flash fiction #Flash Fiction Friday #fff37 #alice in wonderland #cheshire cat #Echo's Tail #character mentions #Storm

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christinefoley · 4 years

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How To Manage Time and Work Like A Boss

I’ve been a teacher for nearly thirty years now, and so I should be red hot at knowing how to manage time. After all, the average classroom teacher regularly has so many plates spinning on a daily basis that every limb is a whirling blur in perpetual motion. Experience has taught me that allowing even one plate to go gyrating off its axis can bring chaos and catastrophe for the whole delicately balanced collection.

Blogging

But this blogging malarkey- well, that’s different. And I’m finding the whole issue of time management more challenging than I’d anticipated, to be completely honest. I mean, thinking about the whole idea of becoming a blogger was…well- just fantastic, really. I love writing, and blogging means that I can write about stuff that really interests me, and never again have to write about things that just don’t.

Primary School Teacher

To clarify what I’m talking about, you may not know this, but the average primary school classroom teacher is obliged to take an interest in such mind-numbing subjects as: rocks and soils, units of measure ( both metric and imperial), adverbial phrases and subordinating and coordinating conjunctions. Admit it- you’re bored already! Imagine having to feign interest in that lot- and a whole host of even more boring topics besides- for nearly thirty years! I don’t know how I’ve done it!

Working From Home

So, what I thought was: become a blogger: write about interesting things, things that get my fingers positively sparking over the laptop key board: it’ll be great! Hey- and you get to do it from home, and manage your own time! Goodbye M6! Goodbye difficult parents! Ta-ta to staff meetings and professional development and tedious meetings about assessment. No more report writing- hurray!!

This will be the new pattern of my Week

Monday morning: awakened at 7am by the alarm- no more 6:30 for me anymore! Up, dressed, breakfast and ready at my laptop to report for writing duty by 8:30 am at the latest.

Straight into writing/ preparing next blog post.

Timetable

9:30 am: take first break: wee, coffee, throw the ball for the dog in the garden for around 20 minutes, then back to the keyboard to work steadily through until lunch at around 12:00.

12:00 healthy lunch put together: salad, hummus, green stuff- that sort of thing- and eaten before 1pm before returning to the laptop for another hour’s work. That hour will be spent emailing, and suchlike.

FREE TIME!

2pm-5:00 FREE TIME! Wow! The whole afternoon off!!

Obviously ,this precious time will not be frittered away on any kind of pointless activities: no, it will be utilised for exercise, dog-walking and attending classes that I’ve really wanted to attend but have always been otherwise occupied teaching PE, the Egyptians or subordinate clauses or suchlike. No, now I will spend my afternoons attending French conversation sessions, singing, creative writing workshops and book clubs. I may even join a hiking club and enjoy hiking in the nearby Lake District.

5pm: teatime. Evenings will be spent working on my blog business- no more than an hour or so- and then I’ll actually go out: live music, pubs, the theatre, meals out- whatever I want, because there are no lessons to plan for the next day- and certainly no marking. Fantastic!!

Manage Time?

It’ll be a joy! No more telling myself I’ll do an hour’s marking, then I’ll fill in those assessment tables and then I’ll spend another hour and half preparing tomorrow’s lessons, before……..NO MORE, No more for me!

So, you’re asking, has it worked out like that?

Well, the fact is that I’m still teaching at the moment, so haven’t had the chance to try out this new lifestyle which I have planned out for myself just yet; but I’m having this creeping suspicion that I’m not going to be able to live that life exactly to plan.

Deadlines

Why not? Well, I guess I kind of like deadlines- I am programmed to respond to them anyway. I was always that one who started working on my essays well before the deadline at university, so that I had plenty of time. I was never the last minute panic type-no, I kind of used the whole two weeks preparation time to get pages of notes together and then panic over the last few days about how I was going to create anything of any value out of all that stuff.

Being My Own Boss

What worries me now, is that, as a blogger, working on my own blog, I am going to have to impose my own deadlines, and I’m not convinced that I’ll be all that good at it. It’s that thing about being my own boss- in one way, it’s what we dream of, but in another way it’s kind of scary. I mean, when you’re at work and things go tits up, the boss is ultimately the one who has to take it on the chin- not you. But if you are your own boss, and things don’t go right- well……it’s all your fault.

How To Manage Time and Work Like A Boss

So, before I cut the umbilical cord of a regular job and life pattern, I’ve been researching some hints and tips from the experts about time management- I’m in my note-taking preparation stage.

Find Your Most Productive Hours

Now, there’s a great idea! Work out when you are generally at your most productive and schedule most of your heavy lifting tasks for those times. A first rate tip for time management- after all, how many people have you heard declare themselves a ‘night owl’ or ‘an early bird’? Loads, right?

Night Owl, or Early Bird?

So obviously that got me to thinking about myself: am I a night owl, or an early bird? A night owl, probably, because I’m used to working in the evenings after school. OK, so save all the deep-thinking stuff for the evenings. Yes…..possible, I guess.

Write a to-do List the Night Before

Undeniably a top idea! Apparently, only takes about five minutes and it means that the next day you can hit the ground running without any fiddling about. Hmmm, so- five minutes before bedtime…just a quick list…

You know what that would mean for me? Five minutes writing, followed by 45 minutes lying awake thinking it all through. Sleep well and up at 7:00 am to hit the ground running? Not on your nelly.

Back to the drawing board…next tip for how to manage time, please?

Start on the Most Critical Task First

Yes….now, that’s good….I get that. Get the thing that’s bothering you most out of the way first thing and you’re bound to feel better about yourself and what you can achieve.

Now that makes perfect sense! Thing is….that’s just not me. No, better for me to get a few little things ticked off my list first to get me stoked up with enough confidence to bring out the big guns and get cracking on those tasks that are going to CHANGE MY LIFE.

Sit down at my laptop and hit myself straight between the eyes with something that scares the pants off me and has probably kept me awake ever since I wrote it down on that to-do list the night before? That just ain’t happening.

Next hint, please….

The Eisenhower Matrix

What d’you mean- you’ve never heard of it? Well, I’m not a fan of tables, because they bring out all my twitches, but this one makes perfect sense- you may want to look it up. In essence, the idea is that you write down all the tasks you need to do- in one, long, terrifying list- then you categorise all the tasks. If it’s urgent, mark it ‘U’, if it’s important, mark it ‘I’, and if it’s neither of those, then cross it out.

Still following me?

Next, you evaluate how much time each of the remaining tasks on your list is likely to take and arrange a plan for yourself. Now, I must admit, I’m liking this idea of time management…especially the stuff that you can cross off the list altogether. The aim is to identify your genuine priorities: which tasks on your list are going to get you to achieve your objective the most quickly, and which, simply, are not.

Like it. Yes, this is one for me! Next tip, please…..

Use Time Constraints- Set a Timer

This tip to help you to manage your time advises using a timer to set time to achieve certain tasks, as the task will inevitably expand if there is an unrestrained time in which to do it. The idea is to beat the timer- complete the task in even less time than that which you allocated!

Hmm. Have I not escaped the 5-9 to escape exactly that- time constraints? The school timetable is gone, so I devise one of my own? Not sure I want to do that to myself, although I do understand the benefits of this time management idea, and every task does undoubtedly expand if there are no constraints in terms of time.

Hmm… I need to think this one through…….and while I’m thinking about it I might just make another cup of coffee and put a load of washing on…maybe iron those few shirts? Watch a bit of TV?

No, Christine, you’re talking about being productive, remember? Now, sit down and just get on with it.

Next hint to ace time management, please.

No Distractions

No browsing your ‘phone, checking through emails, doing odd bits of housework. Now I have struggled with this trick of how to manage time, but have actually had a breakthrough in recent weeks.

What has worked for me, is to go out of the house- no dog wanting to play, no endless possibilities for making coffee and no housework-style responsibilities. The other benefit of being out of the house-for me- is no silence.

Silence

I’m not very happy with silence- it makes me a bit edgy. Never been very productive working in libraries and such places. However, it’s no good putting on music either, because then I start listening to that instead of concentrating on the job in hand.

Coffee Shops

I’ve found that coffee shops are my perfect place for productivity. Not only is there the gorgeous aroma of freshly-ground coffee beans wafting up my nose, but there’s just the right kind of background noise- neither too loud nor too silent to distract me. Obviously, a great cup of cappuccino also enhances the whole experience.

If you would like to learn more about how to manage time, and tips that you could use to improve your own productivity, then take a look at this excellent article by Dan Silvestre: ’23 Time Management Techniques of Insanely Busy People.’

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verduresapiens-archive · 4 years

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(Un)Happy Reunion

He hadn’t expected Randall to find him. Well, he had, after he’d realized who the nosey little shit was that was looking into him, but before that, Hershel had figured Randall would have been more than happy having no idea what had happened to the friend he’d sold out for... Hell. Cash, probably, or some lucrative archaeology deal. Or both - a hefty sum of money disguised as funding and a job working with their archaeology department. He’d never seen Randall there, but why would the archaeology team have anything to do with the prisoners, after all?

And yet here he was. Standing in his goddamn office in the back of Lotus Tree - led there by one of his well-meaning employees after convincing them he needed to speak with the establishment’s owner. Nervous looking. An amount of excited eagerness on his face, masked by a poor attempt to appear calm, as well as some fear, no doubt.

“Get the hell out.” Hershel says, not hesitating for an instant. He doesn’t want Randall in his life again, much less in his store. Randall, ever the stubborn bastard, does not move.

“Hershel Layton? Hersh? It’s gotta be you - everything I’ve found all leads back here, it has to be-” Hershel cuts him off with a glare.

“Get. Out. You have the wrong man.” He hasn’t been ‘Hershel Layton’ in years. Not really. Not technically. He wears Layton’s face and voice, but in comparison to all the other Laytons he’s met, he’s just a glorified doppelganger. Its why he changed his name - Theodore Watson. Legally speaking, ‘Hershel’ isn’t actually his name. Well, in this world, it isn’t. It’s easier to exist when you don’t share every last feature with a very well-known man. Bad enough to look and sound like him, let alone have Lotus Tree confused as a new venture by the renowned Professor.

“I thought so too, but look; I traced every last thread I could possibly dig up - you’re really hard to track, by the way - and I know I’m right. You’re Hershel. The one that I... With the statuette-” Hershel slammed in palms down on his desk, making a loud noise - and probably spooking his employees, but as long as he didn’t snap at them, everything would be fine.

“The man you’re looking for hasn’t existed in twenty goddamn years, Ascot, get the hell out!” He snapped. The wrong decision - because even with the rage and noise, even though Randall jumped at the sudden loud noise, hearing his last name made him start positively beaming.

“I knew it, I knew it was you! Even with all the... weird green stuff!” Randall was practically bouncing in place. “It took me forever to find a lead after what happened with Targent but-” Again Hershel cut him off. Less kindly this time - grabbing him by the front of his clothes and shoving him up against the wall, hard. Randall was less giddy, then.

It made Hershel very happy to see that grin fall.

“Ascot, I have wanted you dead for the last twenty bloody years - you are the last person I’ve wanted to see, right up alongside ‘anyone at all from Stansbury’, because the whole lot of you could burn and I wouldn’t give less of a shit. Leave me the hell alone - it’s taken me this long to get my life back together and I will not have you and your traitorous self stripping my freedom away from me again.” Randall was silent for a good few minutes, before something seemed to click in his mind, and he rushed to speak-

“Hersh, you’ve gotta listen, it wasn’t me, I didn’t-” But Hershel jerked, pressing Randall harder against the wall for a second as he began speaking, cutting him off.

“I don’t want to hear it, Ascot. You sold me to Targent, and I was permanently damaged because of it. I don’t know why the hell you thought I’d want to see you again after we parted so delightfully last time.” Hershel was certain that both of them distinctly remember him screaming at the other how much he hated him.

Frankly, Randall ought to consider himself lucky Hershel hadn’t hunted him down in the middle of the night once he got out.

“I was trying to get there before them! I swear, I was trying to warn you they were coming so you could get away!” The briefest of pauses - potentially the truth, but it was too little, far too late as far as Hershel was concerned.

“Well, clearly it didn’t work then, did it~?” His voice was mocking, not caring at all for the mix of concerned and pained expressions that were crossing Randall’s face. “Unless you’re lying, and my getting tortured for over a year straight was exactly what you wanted, because in that case - hurray! You succeeded in almost completely smashing your best friends sanity to pieces!”The mock-cheerful expression left his face, and he shoved Randall towards the door.

Didn’t want the traitorous little shit in his store any more than was necessary.

“It has taken me almost twenty years to finally get my shit together. I don’t care about you, I don’t care about Stansbury, and I never wanted to see you again for the rest of my debatably long life. If you plan on staying in London long - don’t. I have a business to run, and no time for stubborn little backstabbers with nothing better to do than dredge up nightmares I’d sooner kill myself than dig back up again. Leave.” Randall took a step backwards, hesitating.

For a moment - several actually - it looked like he wanted to speak. But Hershel wasted no time in looking away, pretending he wasn’t there as he began more work on managing his business. The store, the shipments, the garden; so many things that needed tending, and Randall would never be one of them. A weed that he would choke out and let die.

A pained noise, and the sound a of a door opening, then closing. No words. Hershel didn’t bother looking up.

He had far better things to waste his thoughts with than him.

#sev writes things #mostly plot!#but what I'm gonna DO with this plot is anyones guess

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creativerogues · 5 years

Text

Campaign Diary #5: The Journey Home...

RECAP!

When we last left our Heroes, they were resting within the Forests of Valdor, after a failed attempt to slay the Local Green Dragon by the name of Danae, the Deathlady.

This Session begins with the Party waking to their new priority, resurrecting the Party’s Tabaxi Bard, Foot.

Campaign Diary #5: ‘Operation: Fuzzy Rising’...

The Session begins at dawn, with Hard Hat ritual casting his Phantom Steed Spell twice to create two shadowy mounts for the Group to ride until they reach whatever town or city is nearby.

Hard Hat’s Player even notes that he could've done it last night, since Ritual Casting does not use up a Spell Slot, he just forgot about that during the Session… Whoops!

So the Party (who slept next to the dead body of their Bard Friend! Just... So you know...) packs everything up, and Kentucky takes the body of Foot the Tabaxi Bard and decides to carry it across his shoulders, which I ruled as Kentucky 'technically carrying’ Foot, since Foot's dead body could technically be considered an object for the purposes of the amount of people the phantom steeds could carry…

I know, I'm too kind…

So with that, Hard Hat and Potosh take one Phantom Steed, and Kentucky (carrying Foot) takes the other; with Whinny, the Kenku Rogue currently frozen thanks to a Spell Scroll gone awry, put on Kentucky's Phantom Steed.

So with about 30 Minutes of the Phantom Steeds left, Hard Hat casts See Invisibility on himself (covering his face with talc and powdered silver in the process), just so he can keep an eye out for any Invisible Green Dragons that just so happen to be nearby…

And the Party is off! Travelling about 5 Miles by Phantom Steed and out of the Region of Danae’s Lair, with Potosh navigating them and Hard Hat keeping an eye on the skies…

And Kentucky carrying two bodies: But only one is dead, so… yay?

So with that done, and the Party now (still) in the Forests of Valdor (albeit in a less dragon-filled domain), they had a lot of issues to fix, the main two being the frozen Rogue and the Dead Bard currently strapped to the Barbarian's back…

There’s also the issue of the Giant Green Dragon... And Potosh’s Pet Bear, who is currently strewn across Danae’s Cavern Lair, but that’s probably for another time…

The Party travels for a while by Phantom Steed, resting while Hard Hat ritual casts Phantom Steed over and over, with Kentucky taking flight and scouting the Local Area in the hopes of finding a small town or city.

And they do! Huzzah!

Kentucky spots a small town to the south-east and notes that there seems to be a Church there, though it seems a little run-down…

And with the Short Rest over, the Group gets back on their Phantom Steeds and travels towards this town in the middle of nowhere...

As the approach, they see large wooden spikes impaled into the ground to form a fence, though they seem a little battered from previous incursions of the Green Dragon variety...

They go in on foot (rather than Phantom Steed) and walk up to the small Church to see if a Cleric is there.

But when they walk in, they find that the town has turned this old and tiny church into a makeshift tavern and inn, barely surviving in the middle of nowhere, with most people passing through as they moved west over the mountains.

The Party starts to lose hope, with the Bartender telling them to leave (because they did just drag in the stinking and rotting corpse of a Tabaxi Bard with them…) and as they turn to leave and exit, they're followed by an individual.

As Hard Hat begins to cast the Tiny Hut on the outside of town for the Party to rest in, they're approached by a battered, tired old half-orc woman in old and tattered clothes, and struggling to stand on her own two feet, using a wooden stick like a crutch.

She introduces herself as Agn-is Thrak (or Thrak as the Party called her), and she says she can help raise their Friend, as they seemed lost and tired without him, though she requests payment in the form of a favour.

These guys are just racking up favours with NPCs now… But I’m not complaining...

She tells the Party to follow her into the woods outside of town, and she begins to ask the Party questions about Foot as they travel, asking if Foot was a good man, how long ago he died, and if he had any unfinished business...

By the time they get to where Thrak wants them, she asks the Party to sit cross-legged in a circle around Foot's Body, and think about Foot and the life he had as she begins her ritual.

She then asks if the Party has the massive amount of diamonds necessary to cast the Spell, and when they say that they're practically penniless, Thrak takes pity and opens up her pack to reveal a small wooden chest, and upon opening it, the Party sees a small fortune's worth of diamonds, a good thousand gold or more of the stuff.

Thrak then takes a deep breath and a handful of diamonds from her wooden chest, and begins to sprinkle them across Foot's Body as she mutters some strange words in both Orcish and Celestial.

And the Party waits for a moment as the diamonds lay there on Foot's Body, and individually, each diamond cracks and shatters of it's own accord, becoming a fine dust that seeps into the wounds of Foot's Body and begins to undo the decay from the past week or so Foot has been decomposing.

Foot's Body looks as good as the day he died now, and with that, Foot's eyes open slowly, as if someone waking up from a deep sleep.

Foot sits up, then stands, and the rest of the Party stands up, as Thrak embraces Foot and welcomes him back into the World of the living.

HURRAY! Foot is back!

And as the Party reunites, albeit with a still frozen Kenku Rogue, Thrak asks for her favour to be paid immediately...

Just a tad bit awkward...

The Party does, of course, accept and asks what she wants, and initially she says that she just doesn't want to feel tired anymore, she wants to be able to disappear without anyone trying to find her.

Hard Hat comes up with a few ideas while the rest of the Party is still celebrating having their Bard back, with Foot being obviously confused as to what the heck is happening right now...

A Potion or Scroll of some sort to make her undetectable by any means, or some kind of Magic Item to make someone more resistant to the effects of Exhaustion or Fatigue.

Hard Hat then realises he has some contacts, and decides to cast Sending to Kenzo, the Wood Elf Rogue and fledgling Guild-Master to the Thieves Guild she's creating in the Capitol City, with Hard Hat asking if Kenzo could find any kind of Magical Items that could make someone unable to be found or physically change someone's appearance: Kenzo being an Expert Rogue and all...

Kenzo replies and says it might take her a while, but she could get what she thinks they need, and tells Hard Hat to meet her outside the Capitol to make the hand off and payment.

Hard Hat relays this to the Group, and together they decide that taking their Ship (the one they left up north) is probably their best bet, but none of them want to travel through Danae's Domain again, and so choose to travel through the Himmelblas Mountains.

Hard Hat then asks Thrak is she's willing to travel with them to gain her payment, and she accepts, because why wouldn't she?

Hard Hat, the curious little tortle that he is, then asks if anyone in the Party might know of someone in the Silver Charge Mercenary Company, the Mercenaries for Hire that work around the Himmelblas.

Kentucky says he remembers a fella, a big ol' Minotaur that stayed in Coppiborough before going back down South.

Hard Hat then sends a message to this big ol' Minotaur fella within the Silver Charge, asking him to meet the Party on the highest peak of the southern himmelblas and escort them back up north in exchange for coin.

And he receives a reply, a deep and gruff voice saying that the Party should meet him on the peak for sun-down, and he and his group will escort them north at a price of one gold piece each, per person per day.

Kentucky then butts in to say he and Potosh will go scout out the peak, and Potosh wildshapes into a Squirrel, with Kentucky picking him up and the two going about scouting the area for a safe place on the highest peak in the area, where they're not likely to be seen by any wandering monsters...

They find a spot and fly back to Hard Hat and the now resurrected Foot, and relay to everyone the point they should meet at.

Then Kentucky and Potosh make their way ahead while Hard Hat casts his Phantom Steed Ritual yet again. Kentucky flying off overhead while Potosh rides on Kentucky's back in the form of an extra fluffy cat, with massive claws digging into Kentucky "just in case"...

Do cats like heights?

Kentucky and Potosh get to the meeting point, and Foot, Hard Hat (who now has a frozen Whinny the Rogue strapped to his shell with rope) and Thrak the Half-Orc following behind, all meet at the point, Hard Hat casting the Tiny Hut to keep everyone warm while they wait.

As dusk comes, the sun sets, and the Party is still waiting, with Hard Hat passing the time by apologising profusely to Foot for casting the Spell that killed him, explaining how he was charmed by Danae and would've helped the Party if he could have...

The Party continues to chat, with Thrak saying that no good man intends to cause consequences, and Hard Hat is a good man.

This is until they hear a voice shout for a Magic-User.

Hard Hat pops out his head to see, strangely enough, another Tortle!

And behind this Tortle stands a seven foot tall Minotaur, and a noticeably shorter Human Man in arcane attire.

The first thing the three do is ask if the Party can pay, and the Party manages to convince these Silver Charge Members that they can indeed pay them despite having no funds right now…

The three Silver Charge Members then request that everyone sleeps here until morning, where they'll escort the Party north, reaching the Northernmost Part of the Valdorian Side of the Himmelblas in about a week or two...

The Human Wizard (who the Party hasn't even asked his name yet...) then casts a very familiar Tiny Hut, but this version seems to be a deep blue and white, and sparkles with glints of some kind of metallic substance.

The three Silver Charge Members then climb into their own Tiny Hut as everyone gets ready for a sleepover on a mountaintop...

And so the session ends with what is now a Party of Nine! Count them... NINE! With a Elderly Female Half-Orc Paladin and three Silver Charge Members waiting to ride out north at dawn...

Are the Party ever going to get revenge on Danae? Maybe....

But who cares! That’s help out this one NPC!

#campaign diary #dnd #DnD 5e #creativerogues

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mikami · 5 years

Text

Death Note Audio Drama 08

Disc 8: Live Transmission - a summary / partial translation

Prior translations / an explanation as to what the fuck this is.

Despite the cover image, Near only shows up on the next disc, tragically.

In this disc, fundamentally nothing of interest happens. It entirely focuses on the span between the start of the Higuchi chase and Rem deciding to kill L, with very few additions that are at all intriguing.

Next disc though, major stuff is back in play, so look forward to that.

___________

MISA: Save the world. Love the world.

OMINOUS VOICE: Cosmé.... Misa....

MISA: Love the world, live yourself.

MAN: For the modern girl. Hypoallergenic cosmetics. Good for you and good for our planet.

MISA: Let’s turn the world into a better place together.

MAN: Cosmé Misa is without pollutants or preservatives. With sustainable ingredients from free nature.

MISA: Everyone should be free, right?

MAN: Newly released and only by Yotsuba.

_________

We’re welcome back to Sakura TV’s special and reminded to stay tuned in for the shocking finale.

_________

TITLE MUSIC

_________

L and Light wonder about the person Higuchi is talking about in his car. They try to think of ways someone could sit on the backseat, but Wendy confirms there definitely is nobody there.

_________

Higuchi begs Rem to kills Matsuda or to give him his name. She refuses.

_________

L makes Misa call Higuchi.

_________

Rem suggests to Higuchi to give up the notebook, but then Misa calls and confronts him on the ‘start running, whore’. He tries to call her baby and sweetie and begs her to kill her manager. She’s like “uhhh, he’s not a bad person so, no.”

But then she gives the name out and the fake real name they give is...... Tsugumi Ohba.

__________

Higuchi stops the car to write that name and the task force speculate what he’s doing, but they can’t figure it out. They do see him using a pen though.

Higuchi counts down, but Matsuda obviously doesn’t die. Higuchi calls Misa again but Light tells her not to pick up.

__________

Higuchi decides to shoot Matsuda again, but when Rem suggests the eye deal this time, he agrees to it.

__________

L decides this mention of a contract is too suspicious and decides they want to make the arrest now.

___________

Higuchi kills that traffic cop, like in the manga. Higuchi’s attitude here is super jovial, he’s totally overjoyed that the eyes are working.

____________

L and Light figure out that Higuchi now only needs a face. They want Higuchi arrested immediately.

____________

The TV show goes on commercial break, since they want to evacuate the studio now.

____________

Kitamura is watching his daughter’s Swan Lake ballet. L calls him for support. (Kitamura: “What do you want? And hurry up, I think the swan’s dying now.”)

The police are instructed to keep distance and let Higuchi come into Sakura TV.

___________

Higuchi is yammering to Rem about his wishes to kill, not only at the TV studio, but also to kill Misa. Rem reminds him that more victims mean more evidence against him.

____________

L figures out that Higuchi has a shinigami with him. L locks Misa to a chair, while he and Light take the helicopter to go to the TV studio. For this occasion, L ties Light to his hand with handcuffs. (Misa: “Hey L, don’t just leave me here. You’ve got two hands, why can’t I be chained to the other one?!”)

____________

The TV transmission continues, slowly zeroing in on a Japanese company as main suspect. Demegawa wants to remain at the studio in order to film Higuchi’s entry, Soichiro tells him to come along and evacuate but Demegawa refuses.

___________

A short snippet of Light being shocked Watari is a sniper, but no interesting info gets dropped.

___________

Wendy tries to hand Soichiro a gun, but Soichiro refuses, like in the manga.

Higuchi arrives at the studio. Demegawa determinedly lets it all be filmed. We hear the whole scene from film crew perspective. Higuchi arrives and sees the dummies, he understands its a trap.

He is circled by Soichiro, Wendy, Ivor and someone from the task force. They start shooting. Soichiro gets nonfatally shot and Higuchi runs and drives away in his car again. Ivor and Mogi follow in their own car, Wendy steals the Sakura TV transmission car to also chase. The whole car chase scene unfolds without interesting detail.

Higuchi gets surrounded and arrested eventually. Soichiro takes the notebook, sees Rem, then Mogi sees Rem, too..... You know the deal.

Light insists on taking the book, regains his memories. Hurray.

__________

TV report about Higuchi’s arrest. Demegawa’s broadcast was apparently completely cut off, just like all other media. But Demegawa is on the new report anyway and stating that the person arrested is Kira. He repeats his ‘not for awards, not for viewer numbers’ catchphrase.

They also let us know Higuchi is arrested alive.

_________

Kitamura is fucking furious with L and Soichiro. He hates how they did this and how many crimes they committed along the way. He wants to sue them all.

They argue about who gets to keep Higuchi. Soichiro eventually brings up that he could publicize that the police has been blackmailed, thus he strongarms Kitamura into keeping the investigation.

We also hear that Light collapsed upon regaining his memories and is currently in the hospital. L casually remarks that maybe Kitamura should at least send him a fruits basket.

_________

Ryuk eating apple noises.

RYUK: I missed this.

LIGHT (weakly): Ryuk...

RYUK: How are you, boy?

LIGHT: I have a pounding headache...

RYUK: Well, it ought to hurt to get all those memories back into your head.

LIGHT: Wait... stop....

RYUK: Relax, boy. There are no bugs in this room. They’re too busy cleaning up after all this excitement.

LIGHT: Well, then, do as you like. [in reference to Ryuk’s apple chewing]

RYUK: And even if so, you shouldn’t mind.

LIGHT: Who even sent me a fruits basket...?

RYUK: Wait, there’s a card.... Oh, you won’t believe this.

________

The task force examine the notebook and read its rules. L concludes there is more than one Death Note. They try talking to Rem, same-ish as the manga.

The 13-day-rule clears Light and Misa.

________

Light explains the fake rules to Ryuk, so apparently he literally just wrote them himself. Why Light even keeps his memories here despite Higuchi still being alive is a fucking mystery, but the writers just didn’t think it through, I guess.

Light now does kill Higuchi with his watch.

Soichiro then comes to visit and asks how Light is, expressing confusion that only Light reacted this badly to the book, but quickly forgetting about.

________

Phone ringing. L picks up.

L: What now? ... Uh-huh.... Oh really? .... Really, just like that? [starts yelling] Amazing! No, really! Amazing! Thanks for nothing!!

He hangs up. The call had informed him that Higuchi had a heart attack.

_________

Misa digs up the Death Note. Misa gives Ryuk an apple for Light. (Ryuk: “That’s my man.”) She’s also... starting to regain her memories already? Despite not having touched the buried notebook yet?? Who knows what’s up.

She then reads Light’s letter, but she doesn’t remember L’s name anymore. Ryuk here is the one who actively talks her into making the deal again, rather than Misa deciding for herself.

_________

L is still asking Rem questions, taken from the manga. Misa drops by HQ, L won’t let her in anymore. Light tries to convince L to say goodbye to her at least, but L refuses. He then tries to guilt trip L like “you just drop people when you stop needing them” but to no avail.

_________

Rem confronts Misa about the new eye deal while Misa renews her lipstick in the lady’s room. She is upset.

MISA: You didn’t care about that when we made the trade.

REM: That was before... before you meant something to me.

MISA: Oooh, that’s sweet, really, Rem. But Light needs me.

Rem still tries to convince Misa that she made a mistake, since L is never going to let her see him again.

_________

TV report about all Yotsuba executives dying. It’s quick. More reports about how Kira is back and a lot of new murders are occurring. Higuchi’s name is explicitly mentioned and people wonder how he could die while in police custody.

Most of the reported murders are suicides? Because the audio drama just quietly changes this to a common MO for Kira, apparently.

__________

L is really pissed Kira is back in the game, hurray. Light is pretty calm about it, as L points out. This immediately directs L’s attention back to the idea of an original Kira (hence, Light). He immediately doubts the 13 day rule.

LIGHT: Ah, I see. You’re completely in the dark, so you declare me the suspect. Aren’t you getting bored of that?

_________

Rem is on the roof in the rain, talking to Ryuk. She’s mad at him for what he did with giving Misa the eyes again. Ryuk says that this looks like ‘plan B’, though he doesn’t know what that even means. Rem then figures it out.... that the plan is for Rem to kill L. “If I love Misa, I have to sacrifice myself.”

Thus she vows to kill L for Misa. And she flies off, with Ryuk calling after her to think it over once more.

#death note #light yagami #l lawliet #audio drama translations

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introverted-and-depressed · 5 years

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I am not feeling doing anything, anyhow.

Have you ever felt so tired all day? Though you spend the weekends doing absolutely nothing? But you know in yourself that you have a lot, and when I say a lot I intend no exaggeration, of stuffs to do; deadlines to meet, and you just don't care. You feel like you don't have the energy. So ironic that you have been rested all day but still you feel drained.

That is what I am feeling right now. I don't know how my mind, my hands, and whatever is in me, manages to type this blog and where do all these words coming from! Damn. I should have finished my itinerary reports for two months by starting to forge the signatures in my certificate of appearance because why? I procrastinated all the way two months long whenever I went to my designated area to teach in asking authorized persons to sign it. HAHAHA ooops. Anyway I am confidents to share this here because them superiors don't have accounts here! Hurray! Oh and I don't care about the tenses of my verbs now. HAHAHA I am too lazy to care. Maybe after posting this I will check on it or maybe never.

So. Tomorrow, the classes are suspended because there will be a typhoon that the weather forecast foresees to become super Saiyan and will defeat the invading aliens, oh no. So yeah. This typhoon's international name is Kemerut but upon his landfall we will call it Tisoy. Tisoy is a promising one. So he is bound to destroy a number of households because why? He is also nicknamed Tukso. Going back to the class suspension, we have no classes tomorrow. So I won't be going to one of my Barangays for two days BUT our Inang Reyna said that if Tisoy's winds and storms will not be that strong, we have to report at our office and stay there and listen to her sentiments about her estranged friendship with the other Inang Reyna of the opposite direction (BTW our offices names are the three of the four directions.) And maybe after that, she will assign more tasks or maybe point out a finger to me and emphasize how uncool being an introvert like me. Why is that? Because I cannot convinced verbally those who decided to stop dreaming to dream again!

Yeah. I overthink a lot because of that inability. I can't initiate small talk but damn I can express my lesson properly, though. So I lost the point of this blog. Maybe if I read this again, I would say that it has no content but I will still post this anyway. After all, this is the first one. And though I haven't accomplished anything today or yesterday, at least I have my first blog.

#introversion #introvert #lazy #i procrastinate too much #i keep procrastinating #prose #spontaneous #first blog #idk why #whyyyy #why am i doing this #tired of life #tired of this shit #tired #im just tired #always tired

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adentincrime · 5 years

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meta-time ! Do you consider Harvy a real villain or some sort of anti-hero ? Do you think he could be redeemed ? If yes, how ?

Honestly? It depends on the writer.

At his core, Two-Face is a character who determines whether he will commit acts of “good” or “bad” with the flip of a coin. This premise enables him to be all over the place in terms of moral alignment: he is, in theory, equally capable of being the “goodest” person as well as the “baddest” person, and everything in between.

Unfortunately, DC has shown us time and time again that they just don’t know how to write Two-Face when his coin lands “good” side up, so naturally we have more instances where his “bad” side wins the toss in order to manufacture conflict or to move the story forward.

I can think of two stories where Two-Face’s “good” side takes the spotlight: Gotham Adventures #12, where his therapist swaps his usual coin for one where both sides are “clean,” and Harvey uses it to “undo” Two-Face’s crimes; and Batman and Robin Adventures #22, where Two-Face is forced to use a quarter instead of a silver dollar, and through a series of events, saves his ex-fiancée and Batman from a group of thugs.

( And both are spin-offs from the animated series! GEE, FANCY THAT. )

I personally view Two-Face as a tragic anti-villain, where his desired end is “good,”but the means he uses to get there are “bad.” To quote the Joker from Dark Victory: “For all his talk, what did Two-Face really want? Getting rid of a bunch of gangsters. Same as ‘ol Harv.”

The acid attack made Harvey Dent lose his faith in the justice system, something he was a part of and even championed. To me, Two-Face is what Harvey Dent had to become in order to cope with what he perceives as betrayal, and to “do what needs to be done,” a phrase Harvey repeats throughout The Long Halloween. For Two-Face, this meant “cutting out the middle man” to put an end to Carmine Falcone’s “Roman Empire” permanently:

“Again. And again. The courts will send them back to prison or Arkham. They will escape. And we have the same problem. Again. And again. […] You know the system doesn’t work. That justice can be decided like the flip of a coin.”

Two-Face is definitely a “real” villain, but I feel like the crux of his villainy lies in the fact that he’s a constant reminder that no one is safe from Gotham’s influence. Because if someone as good as Harvey Dent can fall from grace, then what does that say about the rest of us?

As far as redemption goes, I feel a story and character like Harvey Dent / Two-Face is incomplete without it. Unsatisfying. Beneath the edgy grim-dark aesthetic, the world of Batman has an underlying theme of optimism to it: Bruce dons the cowl because he believes in Gotham, believes that it can be saved. If you know Harvey Dent’s story— that he survived the abuse inflicted on him by his father ( and, depending on the version, his mother’s suicide + brother’s accidental death ), that he successfully managed the trauma and mental illness that came with such a childhood for many years, that he worked his ass off for everything he got, that he openly fought a corrupt system without an iota of support before his alliance with Gordon and Batman— then you can’t help but want to believe in him just like Bruce believes in his city.

There have been two instances ( fitting, no? ) where Harvey has fully recovered from being Two-Face that I know of: a story from the Batman newspaper comic strip published in 1990, and the Earth-Two’s Harvey Kent.

To sum up the first story, Two-Face tries to decide Batman’s fate with his coin, but realizes that it “says nothing. It’s just a coin.” Batman then takes off his cowl and reveals himself as Bruce Wayne, and pleads with Harvey to “take off his own mask.” Harvey breaks down and Bruce comforts him, and we see them together on a golf course in the distant future, with half of Harvey’s face bandaged. It ends with Harvey thanking Bruce for helping him “accept his scars.”

In the second story, Two-Face attempts to shoot Batman but his fiancée, Gilda, jumps in front of the Dark Knight and takes the bullet. Harvey, horrified by what he’s done, swears to the now comatose Gilda that if she doesn’t die, he will renounce his Two-Face persona forever. Batman convinces Harvey to help him “undo” all of Two-Face’s crimes while Gilda is recovering, which he agrees to; he also gets plastic surgery to restore his appearance, and thanks to his cooperation with Batman, the courts sentence him to one year in prison. Gilda gets better, they reconcile, and she promises to marry him once he’s done serving his time. Hurray!

History has shown us that Harvey Dent / Two-Face is absolutely capable of being redeemed. He’s even recovered in more recent timelines, like Hush— though it was, in my humble opinion, poorly done— albeit short-lived. I think Harvey very much needs the support of his friends to overcome Two-Face, especially from Bruce Wayne / Batman and Gilda Gold, but I’d personally like to see him come to that decision on his own. Perhaps Two-Face contemplates the fate of a literal child simply because they happen to be related to the Falcones or the Maronis, and Harvey, disgusted, says no, this is going too far.

Alas! Over the years, DC has reduced Two-Face’s internal struggle with his conflicting sense of morality to the point where he doesn’t even flip his coin— and when he finally does, it isn’t to decide an action of any real consequence. From Detective Comics #988 to #993, in a story arc that spans over six issues, he flips his coin once: to decide whether he goes right or left.

In that same exact story arc, it’s revealed that the Harvey personality— the so-called “good” personality, remember? — is the one who murders a man in cold blood, and Two-Face is just doing damage control so he doesn’t risk losing his “edgy bad-guy reputation” to his former self.

So no, this new Two-Face that DC is peddling, the one from N52′s / Rebirth’s canon, cannot and should not be redeemed. Ever. Batman was right when he said that there’s nothing left in him to save, and Morrison should have let him die at the end of #993. At least then they’d stop fucking up his characterization.

#sonicanary #fate has chosen. — answered #the duality of man. — meta #long post #thanks for letting me rant about my boy june!!#I really appreciate it 💕

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