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paintedteddy · 3 months

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Masked Men Mayhem (Simon “Ghost” Riley and “Konig TF TG)

MDNI Because this story has:

- Swearing

- Mentioning of male and female private parts

- Moaning

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Samara went to the clothing rack where all the guests put their jackets.

19-year-old Samara Johnson was never a party girl herself, she is more of what people describe as a casual girl. When she’s not doing homework that is very-very-long-cuz-it’s-fucking-college bitch, she would be reading books, or play games like Stardew Valley, or Animal Crossing. Just your basic calm lifestyle.

Samara just joined the party because it’s her roommate’s cousin’s birthday and she decided to try some change in pace for once.

She looks around and sees the party guests playing Call of Duty.

“Hey, Sam!” Her roommate, Kailey calls out to Samara. Kailey Kurtis is the Ultimate Extrovert, going out to the latest party, always having a fun conversation in mind and overall a really fun person to be around.

“Oh uh, hey Kailey…I was just about to-“

“Sam, I need…”

“Leave.”

“Why?”

Sam felt embarrassed.

“Nevermind, what do you need?”

“Follow me”

You know…this might be interesting, Sam thought, I hope I’m right because if it’s not interesting, I’m just wasting my time.

“Open your eyes.”

Samara opens her eyes to see two masks.

One is a ski mask with a skull in which the eyes are supposed to go, six thin line are drawn under the skull while two thick lines are on the top of the skull piece.

The other looks like a blanket with two holes. Said two holes have a red triangle underneath them.

“Kailey, what are those?”

“Oh, these are masks that two of the characters from Call of Duty,” I thought we could wear them before we give him you leave.

Huh, Randy’s still getting presents. Sam thought.

Kailey hands her the skull mask.

“Okay Sam, three, two, one!!!”

The two put on the masks and both look in the mirror.

“Damn, this looks so cursed!”

“Heh, I know ri- ugh…”

Samara clutched her stomach. “God, it hurts…”

Samara didn’t know what to do, her abdomen was burning in immense pain.

Samara moved her right hand vertically. She begins feeling a…two…four…oh did she just.

Samara looked up and see Kailey been through the same change as Samara was.

“Oh, oh fucking god…” Kailey placed her confused hand on the bottom of her six pack and slowly made her way on to her D cup bosom, pain and pleasure began mixing up as she clutched her breast.

Kailey looks down and notices her tit. The fat on her chest began to stiffen to the point that her tits don’t feel like stress balls.

“Holy-“ Sam begins to feel a burning sensation on her chest. Her tits aren’t that big, size a. But then started to swell, going from A size to the pec size where it prominent beneath a shirt.

Samara placed a hand on her/his right leg, it just…feels so hot. Samara let out an erotic moan as she gave her a newfound man boobs a little squeeze.

Samara tried to take the mask off but it wouldn’t budge “Kailey, where did you get those masks from?”

“I-I can’t remember b-but they’re from the same store.” Kailey was probably too aroused to speak. Samara thought.

Samara looked at her arms to that they are now getting more thicker and muscular. Samara also feels her sleeves tighten to the point that they are just ripping.

Samara heard the sound of Kailey whimpering and looked up to see that Kailey had a little growth spurt, so little that her hello kitty shirt looks more like a tank top. Samara looks down to see Kailey’s now gorgeous abs now exposed to the bathroom light. Sam couldn’t help but blush over the sight of the six pack. Fortunately Sam thinks, Kailey was looking at the abs with lusty look in her eyes. “You look kinda…” Sam paused at the sound of her voice deepening a bit, but then finished her sentence. “Kinda hot.”

Kailey looked at Sam. The stare was both a mixture of lust, confusion, and nervousness,

Kailey groan as pain began surging through her thighs, the have become more thicker and harder but the most interesting part about this is the crotch. Kailey put her right hand on the area between her legs.

“Oh~ oh, fuck, fuck,”

“Kailey, everything is gonna be- oh my…fuck~”

Samaran covered her mouth with confusion, herhis hand went to her crotch Oh…oh god…Samaran’s mind was racing. God, this new pleasure is to much. She finally let go and finally analyzed what was going on the event she(?) and Kailey(?) put the masks on. She’s …she…he’s a man now.

Samaron’s hand goes up and touches her aching jaw. His jaw begins to feel more square and masculine.

As Samaron looked at Kailey, he (Kaileng) was caressing his new cock right in front of Samara. When Kailey looked at Samaon he stopped doing it as he saw Samara looking at him. Kaileng then, looks away from the confused Samaon. Shaking a little.

Samaon doesn’t care though, he was feeling a little dizzy.

“So that’s the skull boy you said could kill ya in a flash,”

“Don’t go near him”

“Already there, and I ain’t even dead, I mean just ust look at him, he’s wear the most skimpiest outfit God has ever seen,”

Skimpy? Skull boy? Where’s Kai…who’s Kai…nevermind. Samaon lift his head up and scanned the area, explosions, deaths, war…wasn’t he supposed to be used to it.

“What do you mean skimpy?” Samon looked up to see a soldier standing right in front of him while Samon was sitting. He looked around his area. His eyes darted to a gun. The next thing you know, he picks up the gun, points it at the man, and pulls the trigger.

Samon picks up the gun and runs to the nearest washroom.

The washroom reeks of grimy flesh and compost. It looks like the type of place you would see in you would see in a stereotypical haunted house horror film.

He ripped off his now-really-tight clothes. He looked in the mirror and saw a really hot man in a mask… shirtless right in front him.

He groaned in pain as scars formed on his body. Scars that were so familiar to him. from those time where he was tortured?

After the scar was fully formed, his eyes darted to the mirror, the sight of his hot body that had been formed when he began to put on the mask. The body in which he had for a few minutes after it fully formed started to feel…familiar to him.

His hand reaches to his right pec, it’s…bigger than he thought. The soldier gave it a squeeze…arousal surges through his new body. “Oooh~ Fucking hell~,” he moans under his breath. “My- my voice…,” it was really deep, and is it… British?

He took his other hand, placed it on his left pec, and give it a gentle squeeze, even if it’s gentle, that darn thing still worked a punch.

He kept masturbating, exploring his new body parts that he gained during his transformation. Moaning and groaning.

When the soldier finished, a military uniform started to strap on his new body.

New (and traumatizing) memories started to form. Samara Johnson is gone… all that remains is a Ghost.

A female voice called on his walkie talkie.

“Ghost?”

“Present Laswell.”

“Meet me, Price and Gaz at the helicopter,”

“Roger.”

#simon ghost riley #konig cod #tf #tg #ftm #OBSCURE TFS >>>>>#EAT IT UP SIMPS #I’M SO SORRY IF THIS IS BAD! IT’S MY 1ST TIME WRITING SPICY TFS

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lockpicnic · 2 years

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It's seven years after the Holy War.

Seven years since she was saved from Veld's stone prison, since she watched the Little Lord she raised go on to become a liberator of Thracia, then Grannvale, then Agustria—from boy to man, he was now a Jugdrali hero known far and wide, whose fame and exploits rivaled even that of the Scion of Light. Eclipsed it, in the minds of some.

Mareeta was traveling the world as a swordmaster, having grown even closer to her birth father over the years. Leif had grown into his role as king, wed to Little Nan, and leading Thracia into an age of prosperity and peace. And Seliph the scion, Sigurd's boy... had brought long-awaited clemency to Chalphy's good name, and was reversing the scars and injustices Arvis and his ilk had brought upon Grannvale.

Now Eyvel-turned-Brigid returns to the lands of House Yngvi, bidding farewell to Fiana for now. Her boy, and her sweet girl... they needed their mama, and she would be damned if she went another minute being absent from their lives.

(She thinks of Father. Andrei. The Orgahil captain. She wouldn't put her kids through that same agony of loss. Not again.)

"Happy birthday, Patty." Rather than hold a grand feast in Yngvi's dining hall, she aims for something more heartfelt and intimate: a tea party out in the manor's garden, with a cake baked personally by herself. (With some help from Edain. Maybe.)

Sitting across from her daughter, Brigid can't help but stare for a moment. Those bright eyes, that long, golden hair shimmering in the sun... and the weight of experience and hardship beneath the warmth of her gaze. Even now, it amazed Brigid to see her daughter fully grown, instead of as the infant she last remembers. "...I missed so much." She murmurs, with a slight crack to her voice. "I know this probably isn't enough, but please... talk to me, Patricia? About your life, your interests, just—every little thing."

"You, Febail, and everything you've gone through... I wanna hear it all." They had all the time in the world now. All was at peace, and she finally found her two treasures again. Her family.

She just hoped fate wouldn't tear them apart for a third time.

Once the Holy War (the sequel) had come to an end, Patty assumed that everything would just…go back to normal. That she would go back to Conote with Febail and live happily ever after. It never sank in until they arrived in Yngvi that her brother now held some sort of responsibility for the land and its people. He would be the next Duke of Yngvi, and she—

She really was a Princess, living in comforts that she could only dream of as a child— that she thought only possible by marrying a man for his wallet rather than her own heart.

…The life of a Princess was much more lonely than she would have thought.

Until one day, there’s a woman who joins them in House Yngvi— and she sees her Aunt cry tears of joy. It only takes one look at the “stranger’s” face for Patty to do the same, running at her and jumping into her arms.

“MOM!”

Life with her mother around was…odd. Not bad— just odd. She had gone her entire life without ever meeting either of her parents, only hearing of her mother from stories, and even talk of her father…ended in a list of names rather than one specific man. It was difficult to truly feel connected, no matter how hard she tried— how much she wanted to.

“Aw, ma…” She sits across from her mother, face red as she rubs the back of her neck bashfully. Patty wasn’t used to this much attention normally, but getting it from her mom made it feel even more embarrassing.

The thief tries so hard to ignore the feeling in her chest and the tears pushing against her eyes— so she cuts herself a piece of cake, stuffing her mouth full.

( …Was her mom also a good cook? This was delicious— )

But her mom’s voice nearly causes her to choke, looking up at her with wide eyes. “…Ya really wanna know?” She shifts awkwardly in her seat, the genuine interest in her life from her mother…it’s an odd mixture of comforting and terrifying. That doesn’t make sense, but it’s how she felt— and when have her feelings ever made sense?

“To be honest with ya— you’re right. This ain’t gonna be enough. Ya missed my whole life so far, ya know?” The way she speaks is oddly serious, as if these feelings had been building up for years without her knowing. She never planned on what she would say if she ever had the chance of meeting her mother— it certainly wouldn’t have been this if she did. “But— we got all the time in the world now, don’t we, ma?” She giggles, shaking her head. “And if ya stick ‘round long enough, you’ll have been apart of my life for the majority of it, yeah?”

Patty takes a sip of her tea and grimaces instantly. This was awful…but for some reason, it felt as if she was slowly getting used to the taste. As if she’s had more cups today than she’s had in her lifetime. “Sit back! Ya got a lotta listenin’ to do!”

No matter how hard it was…she wouldn’t let this opportunity go.

#[ just thievery ]#[ requests ]#[ brigid ]#im goifn to bite you bite you bite you ))#i cant formulate my thoughts in rp either anyway momther ))

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cwarscars · 2 years

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(( replaying the original ffvii is always interesting especially because i’ve been playing through remake, too - so i’m like, actively comparing them and -

* i way prefer original’s writing. it’s much more nuanced and the characters feel more complex. avalanche ARE responsible for the deaths of innocents and each character feels like a mixture of good and bad (like real peeps). nobody is watered down which i appreciate.

- example, rufus is nice to his troops / has good intentions but will also deadass execute avalanche just to improve public opinion - tseng is shown to be pretty callous about the platefall (ditto for reno etc) but they’re also shown to be likable in their own rights ala gongaga / temple of the ancients. - aerith has that whole otherworldly-ancient thing going on without needing a cheat sheet showing her the end outcome. like, she goes to her death not because she’s ‘ready to die’ or whatever but because she knows she needs to ‘activate holy’. like, she’s sort of as in the dark as everybody else but she’s brave enough to power through it (which personally, i prefer in comparison to her ‘i know the ending lol’ thing of the remake) - hojo. man, what the hell? so, i just did costa del sol and you can find hojo on the beach surrounded by ladies (hojo got pussy game wot?) - and he asks aerith about ilfana, is surprised she’s dead and then is generally just like ‘fuck u guys i wanted a holiday’. i know it’s kind of an easter egg but also, it’s a far cry from what we get in remake? - barret is always perfect

*the story in general. i’ve always felt remake blows it’s load WAY too soon and gives far too much away for the sake of - i don’t even know what? - while i’ve been playing og with my partner, i’ve been explaining things to him and like, we did the kalm flashback and he was like ‘ohhh so this is why cloud doesn’t like sephiroth’ and i was like ‘well - do you think this flashback is real / reliable?’ and my partner was like ‘hold up, w o t ?’

*the implication that jenova is the big bad and not sephiroth. i’ll take it to the grave that jenova is the one pulling the strings the entire time and seph is essentially just a vessel for her (right up until the end, where i assume he’s ‘resurrected’) - the story has always felt confusing in that respect but i’ve always felt it makes sense that jenova is the one calling the shots and not sephy. i’m not sure if remake will really touch on this (it gives up glimpses of jenova but /more/ of sephy - but who knows; it’s a running theme throughout og ff7 so /shrug/ maybe remake will experiment with that). personally, i love jenova being the ultimate villain. i could write an essay on why she is tbqh & i think the devs retconned in game shit to appease fans in thinking seph is the ‘main villain’.

i just - yeah. like, i’ll always prefer original. there are things about the remake i love but replaying them side by side - one is way better than the other in terms of storytelling / narrative & characters. ))

#(ooc)#hello im finally online #ive had a crazy busy day #i had work this morning & then i was at comic con for a good chunk of the day #which was okay but i always get bored at these places #after i finished painting my friends birthday gift and ahhh it's just been a mad one #i'm gonna look at some replies and then maybe reply to discord stuff tomorrow to save anyone getting a message at like 2am haha #i hope everybody is okay!#( tbd. )

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orphancookie69 · 2 years

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Now Watching: Dahmer

Shocker I watched Dahmer. Me and so many other people-it is (at the time of typing this) Netflix’s second biggest English TV Show. Way to go Ryan Murphey. Really, I fell in love with both Ryan Murphy and Evan Peters in AHS Season 1 (the good ole days). My BFF is actually going to school to be a criminal psychologist and in some ways I envy her, it would be a pretty cool thing to do to talk to people like Dahmer.

This could very easily turn into a spoiler review, and I will try to keep it from being that. But in some ways this is not even a review, its more of a “holy cow no wonder the world is obsessed with this” rant. I love Evan Peters, he does so many not easy roles and allows us to relearn humanity lessons we learned (or should have learned) the first time when the in real life people made their mark on history. He goes head on into his roles and this one scared him, but he wanted to do right by all involved in the story. And really, he did. That is not to say the rest of the cast or Ryan does not deserve as much of a high five-but I love Evan Peters.

This was a proper story. It was Dahmer being Dahmer, and made you question why he was that way. But also did not answer the question, leaving the viewer with some homework. Is one born a killer, or does things around them make them that way? It is probably the (unfortunate) proper mixture of both. I could see the parents messing up and contributing but it’s also too easy to do that. There is no “right or wrong” way to parent, no handbook-and every generation has more information about it and agree less and less as time goes on. But really the times of the past, it is easy to forget how much more racist and what not things were. I am not one to be so “pro or con” police, but political powers at play did not help anything for the better in all of this. But how do we grow as people without failing. Humanity is a big collective of people, we have to have someone mess up bad enough the world learns (and relearns) about it so we learn. Would you sign up to be that person?

It is easy to hate, almost too easy, it’s harder to say...If I had a role in this, what was it? If I had to have a deep thought about this, what would it be? And I would even challenge you more to have this with someone you can SAFELY have a discussion with this about. Also when you do this, if you do, ask yourself this...Who doesn’t want 1 thing in their life they have say and control over? Other than really crossing that line that few that make history do, who has not had some or all of those thoughts he had?

Ya know maybe I am a little bit odd, (just a little a bit), but growing up I would watch “America’s Most Wanted” with family after saturday dinner-or talk about famous serial killers in my uncle’s book with my cousins and sister. Dahmer I knew, but did not know much about. Thank you Netflix for helping me to fix that. I was shocked what he did, who he did it to, but even more than that-I would say it takes so much to go wrong to make someone like that. It is never really “fair” to blame the parents or society...but is it fair to put all the blame on him? What would he have been like if he was not abandoned and loved? Interesting questions we, as humans, I think need to ask ourselves.

#rant #now watching #netflix #dahmer #evan peters #ryan murphey #serial killer #criminal psychologist #spoiler free review #spoiler alert #psychology #humanity

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rise-above-the-grave · 4 years

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[smashes down door] who is Bail and why do you like him? I could look it up but I'd rather you gush over him

OH BOY.

So first off, a quick (canon) history lesson: Bail Organa was the Senator and Viceroy (aka Prince Consort) of Alderaan. If you don't know what that means (because old titles are Weird - I'm not judging the only reason I know this is because of this very character), it means that Breha, Bail's wife, is ruling Queen of Alderaan and was the heir to the throne. She married Bail, making him a ruler by marriage, though technically she still held the crown. He, at some point, was also elected Senator of Alderaan, and was Senator leading up to and during The Clone Wars (and after, but we're getting to that).

So Bail, we come to find out, became (best) friends with Padmé Amidala. We see him in a couple of scenes in Attack of the Clones with Padmé, just kinda vibing and making the occasional commentary. We know he stood with her on the Opposition bill (the bill Padmé was nearly killed over at the beginning of AOTC, which was against the formation of a Republic military), though we don't learn much about the rest of his politics until later.

So he's kinda...there, but obvs isn't the focus of the story, and is really just a minor background character. The first real insight we get into Bail is, actually, a really tiny character moment right at the end of AOTC, when Palpatine and some of the Senators are looking down at the Clone troops loading up onto the ship, watching their new military gear up for war.

Bail looks away. While everyone else is staring down at the (slave) army, some of them smiling (like Sheev), some of them just serious, Bail looks away from them and makes this tiny little hand gesture: a simple, closed fist knocking against the banister of the balcony.

It's this, I think, that first piqued my interest in this character. He was the only one not triumphant in that situation. He was the only one who saw things for what they were: a tragedy, and a horror, and that this wasn't something to celebrate but to mourn.

Then we come to Revenge of the Sith, and boy howdy. The man may have like 10 minutes of screen time, but does he make those 10 minutes count!

A quick bullet point of the Important Things Bail Does in ROTS:

When the Jedi Temple is burning, what does Bail do? He flies to it to figure out what's going on and see if he can save anyone. He then watches as a youngling is shot and killed by Clone Troopers, and manages to escape because he's a fucking badass.

Please note, to our knowledge, Bail is the only one who actually goes to check on the Jedi Temple.

As soon as he escapes the Temple, Bail immediately - like immediately - takes his ship and goes to find any surviving Jedi. He is almost certainly the reason both Yoda and Obi-Wan don't walk into the trap that is the Jedi Temple, or are captured - and even if that's not true, he most definitely is the reason they manage to sneak safely onto Coruscant and figure out what happened.

He's the one who rescues Yoda (again) after Yoda's failed duel with Palpatine in the Senate. Which, let me rant about the SYMBOLISM of that for a second please. Because holy shit, the entire duel between Yoda and Palpatine takes place in the Senate, with the Senate building and pods. Here Palpatine proves to Yoda that yes, he is the Senate, he controls it, the new Empire is under his control and no one can stop him. But then - but then - Yoda escapes, and who saves him? Bail. Bail sneaks in with a speeder, saves Yoda, and gets him back to safety. Which is such a huge fucking metaphor for the fact that Bail will be the one who, ultimately, is responsible for Palpatine's defeat. But, more on that later.

Bail is there when Padmé (remember, his best friend) gives birth to Luke and Leia. Bail is literally one of 3 sentients in the galaxy who canonically knows about both Luke and Leia.

Bail instantly offers to adopt one of the children, saying "She will be loved with us." (And then she absolutely is.)

And he does all of that in line 10 minutes of screen time.

He shows up again briefly in Star Wars Rebels, and again in Rogue One, but I'm going to take a trip down a side alley here into a territory that is grossly unused in the SW EU: the founding of the Rebellion.

So we don't actually know much about how the Rebellion got started. What we do know is that Bail was one of the (if not the main) Founders. Bail was the mastermind behind the Rebellion, by all accounts knowing...everything about it: who was who, who did what, where they were located, etc. He knows (and controls) Fulcrum in Rebels, as just one example, and Fulcrum is considered by that text to be one of the most powerful Rebel operatives at the time. In Rogue One (regardless of whether you liked what they did with the Rebellion which, side note, I did not), we see he certainly has a position of great authority and power. People respect him, and listen to him, and he's on an even footing with Mon Mothma (or Mom Mothma as my autocorrect tried to say) who is canonically one of the most powerful people in the Rebellion, according to ROTJ.

More than what he did, though, we can look to his character as a reason I love him. He is a good, kind, honorable man who does (or at least tries) his best. We see again and again, throughout all of SW media he's in, that he consistently chooses the right path, regardless of whether or not it's the easy one. He fights corruption, fights for justice, fights for freedom, fights against tyranny.

He is also, canonically, an amazing father and (according to EU content, since Breha literally doesn't have a spoken line in any media content) an incredible husband. We know he's well-loved by his people, and by the Rebellion, by the extraneous texts and mentions about him in the wake of his death on Alderaan. He's also respected by many Senators during his time in the Clone Wars (Padmé makes a comment in a TCW episode about how he's the best and most respected speaker and Senator she knows), and regardless of how people felt about him after the Rise of the Empire (which is, unfortunately - or fortunately maybe, because I don't trust Disney to do it right - up to headcanon), the fact remains that Bail played an incredibly tricky position as an Imperial Senator, having to balance fighting for his people, the people of the galaxy, and setting up the Rebellion, with not making himself too much of a nuisance, or too much of a traitor, that Palpatine straight up had him executed.

Which, speaking of that, can we also take a moment to appreciate the fact that Bail knew almost every single secret that Palpatine and Vader wanted??? He knew where Obi-Wan was, and possibly where Yoda was. He knew where both of Anakin and Padmé's children were. He knew everything about the fledgling Rebellion. Like...that man, had he been captured and interrogated (and had he broken) would have damned the entire galaxy. Yet he never was. He played his cards perfectly, and was either never suspected, or was able to somehow hide all of the information they wanted to know from being found. Personally, I suspect a mixture of the two.

Furthermore, Bail Organa is a great father and husband. He is directly responsible for Leia being the amazing woman we know and love. The one shot we get of Breha, you can practically see and feel the love and adoration Bail has for her radiating off of him through the screen. Literally the most unproblematic ship in Star Wars. I have never seen a single person say they aren't amazing (unless they just want to break them up to make Bail gay? Which, come on, bisexual and polyamorous people exist, y'all. But that's a talk for another time).

If you're still not convinced, the only thing left that I can say is: I'm a raging lesbian and like, while I definitely wouldn't fuck him, Bail/Jimmy Smits (his actor) is handsome. Have some pictures that I have saved on my phone for when I'm feeling sad.

Tl;dr: Bail Organa is singlehandedly responsible for putting into motion the events that secure the galaxy's freedom, not only by being one of the founding fathers of the Rebellion, but also by reaching Yoda and Obi-Wan before the new Empire can, and getting them safely to Coruscant. He is a good, kind, and noble man who does his best in shitty times, and even if he has to make hard choices, he always makes them for the right reasons. He is a loving father, husband, and ruler, who does right by his people and his family. He fights for what's right, even when that fight is nearly impossible. He's a badass, and arguably a literal genius (you'd have to be, to do the kinds of things he does in canon).

Anyway, Bail Organa is great and I love him - and you should too.

#bail organa #breha organa #leia organa #obi wan kenobi #yoda #padme amidala #sheev palpatine #anyway i love him lots #also for any lotr peeps who read this (or at least are reading the tags)#he's basically elrond in space

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malmuses · 3 years

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First Line Game

Tagged by @cr-noble-writes @achillestiel and @jemariel!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

All stories are Destiel.

Three a.m. doesn’t exist. - Noctambulation

Dean inhaled deeply. - Give Me a Sign

“Bonan matenon, Dean Winchester," a feminine robotic voice blared in Dean’s ears. “Bonvenon al la Saranton.” - Oxygen

How did one go about getting gum off of a trench coat? - Dean Winchester and the Stolen Tupperware

Hunting, as a profession—though it was more of a calling, really, Dean thought—certainly helped to promote a strong stomach and a very dulled sense of smell. - A Fish Out of Water

The smell of the Leviathan Blossom was sweet, tobacco-like, slightly earthy. - Hold On, Holy Ghost

Reaching up and tugging his tie away from his neck to let some chilly winter air soothe the nervous sweat gathering at the back of his collar, Castiel gave what he hoped was an interested-looking nod to the overdressed mechanic in front of him. - Orna-meant to Be

Dry mouth, aching back, thighs concrete-numb. - Everything is Blue

Charming Acres: Where Everybody’s Happy! - Coffee, Tea, or Me?

On the desk, in amongst the thick cream sheets of orders that Dean had received from his higher-ups, there was a letter. - Of Lords and Letters

Bobby frowned down at the once-white rag he was wiping his hands with, rubbing off the worst of the fresh black grease and oil from their morning’s work. - Love on the Menu

The mixture of blood and dust from the second vetala hadn’t even finished dripping from Dean’s silver knife before Sam just had to go and ruin his day. - In Your Own Time

“I believe that Garrison Enterprises is uniquely placed to…to… damn it—” Muttering under his breath, Castiel skimmed through his cue cards until he found the right one, “—advance!” he blurted out. - Falling Inn Love

A sharp breeze blew along Great Guildford Street as Cuthbert Sinclair stepped out of the front door. - The Curious Case of Cuthbert Sinclair

Dean’s favorite time to be in the Bunker was during the downtime between their smaller cases. - The Care and Feeding of Castiel

“Dude, are you wearing pants?” - OMG, They Were Zoommates!

“Medlenno.” - Graphoerotica

The welcome package from the apartment complex hadn’t actually been all that welcoming, but as Castiel was a broke student, he’d take every freebie he could get. - Neighborhood Watch

Trick or Sweet was a bakery-slash-chocolate shop, but Dean was fairly sure that Gabriel would have him turn half of it into a joke shop if he could—something epic, of Fred and George Weasley proportions. - Russian to the Altar

The headline read: Grandma Run Over by Reindeer! - The Bad Santa Clause

Curious, curious! If I'd have been asked off the top of my head, I would have said I relied too much on dialogue for first lines, but it doesn't actually look like that's true at all, only 4 of the 20 were dialog. Much lower than I thought. Otherwise, my first lines seem to run that gamut. That makes sense to me though, I tend to pick them based very much on the POV and situation of the first scene. So if it's Dean and he's in his head about something, it'll be longer than if it's a simple declaration of something important to note about the scene or setting.

Interesting!

Also, wow. I had to go further back in time than I thought to hit 20. I think that's because I'm currently sitting on several unposted fics though, so it feels like I wrote these longer ago than perhaps I did.

Tagging! I am such a bad tagger, I always feel like I'm intruding and don't know enough folks around here. Plus, a bunch of the folks I do know have already been tagged...I tried not to double tag. But probably failed!

@ellen-of-oz @a-mandala-rose @andimeantittosting @ltleflrt @the-communist-unicorn @sobsicles @tobythewise @foxymoley @blueeyesandpie @envydean @ncdover1285 @one-more-offbeat-anthem

#tag games #mal waffle

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dreamersleeps · 3 years

Text

Red Wings of Temperance

A Possible Influence Behind the Color of Hawks’ Wings

A deck of tarot cards is made up of 78 cards, and the first twenty two are known as the Major Arcana. They were created in the 14th or 15th century but were not used for divination purposes until the 18th century. Tarot card readings are not meant to predict the future but to offer spiritual guidance.

The image above (from Oracloo) depicts the 14th Major Arcana card in the tarot deck which is known as: XIV Temperance.

Like me, I’m sure that your mind jumped to a certain pro hero as soon as you saw the figure’s red wings.

What might Temperance have to do with Hawks? Let’s first look at a couple definitions of the word first. According to Merriam-Webster:

Temperance

1. moderation in action, thought, or feeling

2. habitual moderation in the indulgence of the appetites or passions

If Temperance is drawn, it means:

Balance, patience, and moderation in life.

To think before we act. To look at both sides of an issue, to walk in another’s shoes or their path before we pass judgement. To be compassionate, considerate and fair in our dealings with others (bluestartarot).

That you have a clear, long-term vision of what you want to achieve. You are not rushing things along; instead, you are taking your time to ensuer that you do the best job you can. You know you need a moderate, guided appraoch to reach your goals (biddytarot).

Other Red-Winged Figures

Before we begin I’m going to point out that there are a couple other Red-Winged figures amongst the Major Arcana.

I’m not aware if nudity in art is allowed on Tumblr so just to be safe, I cut the bottom half of both these cards because they depict nude individuals.

The tarot card on the right is VI The Lovers and XX Judgement. Out of the two, I think you could perhaps make some connections with Judgement and Hawks but I think that Temperance works the best.

Symbols of the 14th Arcana

There are quite a few symbols on XIV Temperance, but I’m going to focus on a select few. Interpretations may differ based on the source but I tried to stick with those that were repeated throughout the different websites I read through.

The most important part of this card is the act of pouring water from one cup to another, signifying a balance of duality and a mixture of two separate objects. This is where the card gets its name, the process is called “tempering” which is a slow process to eventually find a perfect middle ground (wemystic).

Other dualities that is represented on this card can be: male/female, spiritual/physical, emotion/logic, conscious/subconscious and subconscious/superconscious (we mystic).

Temperance revolves around supreme balance. One foot is on land which represents the Earthly, material world and the other is in water, which represents the emotional, subconscious world.

The winding path leading to the mountains represents the journey through life with its twists and turns. The sun, appearing as a glowing light is a symbol of staying true to one’s life purpose and meaning (biddytarot).

Fire/Red wings: Physical passion, anger. Muscles and strength necessary to maintain composure and reach a higher being state.

Blue water: Emotions, peace, calm. Groundness and refreshment.

White gown: Pure thought.

Yellow Iris: Communication, thoughts, learning, feminine/masculine.

Temperance’s wings are either referred to as “fire wings” or “red wings.” If we want to make connections to we can argue that his Fierce Wings Quirk is the source of his physical strength, even though he displays some insecurity about his back not being “reassuring” enough for others to depend on.

Other than his red wings, I don’t think I’m confident enough to draw a clear connection between his appearance and the other prominent colors that appear on Temperance. Hawks’ visor was blue before the anime chose yellow, and he does have the yellow color palette going on.

However, the meanings of the colors do line up with Hawks’ character. He is a character who is always trying to be calm and collected no matter the situation. Hawks is a character who is constantly seeking, taking in, gathering, and analyzing information. According to the fandom website, Hawks’ surname translates as: “hawk” (taka 鷹) + “see, visible, idea” (mi 見 )

While his first name translates as: “disclose, open, say” (kei 啓) + “enlightenment, understanding” (go 悟).

Sun: Also appearing as the angel’s third eye, it represents the merging of personal aims with the universe’s plans for the individual.

So similar to many others, I like to see Endeavor as the sun to Hawks’ Icarus (side note: I also like to see Dabi as Apollo in the Icarus theme).

The bit about the eye is interesting as well: I believe that eyes play an important role in the story telling with Hawks, Endeavor and other characters. There are interesting similarities between the two characters and the Egyptian Gods Ra and Horus (@/bokunowtv also pointed out some interesting details as well).

Recently, it also seems like Hawks’ storyline will be intertwining with Endeavor’s. Hawks has expressed verbally in Chapter 299: “Starting with my origin, so to speak... Endeavor’s in trouble.” While they did team up professionally as heroes in the past, it seems that Hawks intentions this time will be personal. We have yet to see what he is planning to do and how things might pan out, however this path will probably lead him to Touya.

Triangle: Representative of the fire element and holy trinity.

Although Hawks does not wear a triangle or square on his chest like the angel, it is still interesting to note that he wears the Hero Public Safety Commission’s diamond symbol in about the same place. Again, there is the mention of fire again.

The Angel

Because Temperance has to do with balance and duality, the angel on the card is both masculine and feminine.

Whether they are just an unnamed angel or a Biblical angel depends on the source you are looking at. However when it comes to identifying them, while one states that it is the Archangel Gabriel, the sources I looked at overwhelmingly pointed towards the Archangel Michael.

This is very, very interesting considering that the Archangel Michael is the angel who is in all the paintings that people were comparing the cover of Volume 27 with, specifically the painting above: “The Fall of the Rebel Angels” by Luca Giordano.

My analysis first post on Tumblr had to do with pointing out similarities between the Archangel Michael and Hawks, and what that could mean. And my most recent post revisits the possible angel narrative which may be present in Hawks’ story, and how he is referred to as a “fallen angel.”

It’s exciting to see the Archangel Michael pop up again. Michael was also God’s angel of destruction and on XIV Temperance we see him tempering or blending his passionate anger with consicious thought to blend his fiery nature with his super-consciousness with calm (blustartarot).

Temperance Reversed

When Tarot cards are reversed, their definitions are flipped over.

When XIV Temperance meets XV The Devil we see imbalance, disharmony, indifference and lack of empathy. When we preactice excess in our lives without moderation and balance whether it be food, alcohol, drugs, and relationships, we lose ourselves in addiction and bondage (bluestartarot).

May call for a period of self-evaluation in which you can re-examine your life priorities. Self-healing: by creating more balance and moderation in your life (biddytarot).

We’ve seen Hawks indulge in something or trip up a couple of times. In Chapter 186, Hawks asks if he can have Endeavor’s leftover food and Endeavor calls him a glutton. Additionally, @/scarletrain1724 has done some analysis on how Hawks is a character who is often seen around or consuming food.

And in Chapter 265, Hawks takes Jin’s life. As Dabi states below, “sentiments” tripped him up. Hawks displays a lack of empathy here. He believes that he feels sorry for Jin and wants to help him, but Hawks is actually unable to understand him properly. I would also identify this action as one of Hawks’ narrative Icarus falls.

The Moral of Icarus’ Fall

This all ties in nicely as we see Hawks’ character following an Icarus narrative. There are a handful of “morals” that we the reader are supposed to gain from the Fall of Icarus but I’ll pull an excerpt from the part I’d like to focus on.

Before taking flight, Daedalus warned his son:

“Take care to fly halfway between the sun and the sea. If you fly too high, the sun’s heat will melt the wax that bids your wings. If you fly too low, the sea’s mist will dampen the feathers that give you life. Instead, aim for the middle course and avoid extremes.” (The Fall of Icarus - adapted from Metamorphoses by Ovid)

As we all know, Icarus does not heed his father’s warning, whether it be cause he purposely ignored him or forgot and flies up towards the sun. The sun’s heat melts the wax and loosens the feathers on his manmade wings, and he plummets in to the ocean below, drowning.

Avoid extremes, fly in the middle and seek temperance.

The card that comes before Temperance is XIII Death.

In death we go through transition, a rebirth, changes and with these we come to XIV Temperance for the need to take the time to pause and think. To integrate and blend what we have learned on our journey (bluestartarot).

So the question to ask is, has Hawks learned anything from his actions or will his story end with him drowning in the ocean?

To those who were able to make it through this post, thank you! I know that it was really long but I didn’t want to divide it into more than one part. I really appreciate your time and attention! :)

#visual #hawks #takami keigo #bnha analysis #mha analysis #mythological influences #religious influences #bnha #mha #bnha meta #mha meta #luna writes #my post

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four-loose-screws · 2 years

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Warriors of the Skies - FE4 Short Story Translation - Part 2

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

If you are interested in donating to support my work, please check out my Ko-fi here. Thank you!

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Warriors of the Skies

Short Story #3 of Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War - The Forested Land of the Lake, by Ginichiro Suzuki

Part 2

For pegasi who had just turned three years old and become able to fly, there were no natural predators.

But until then, they are extremely frail creatures. Because they had the ability to fly, their skills in running on land were vastly inferior to that of a standard horse. So if they were attacked even once as a child, they most likely would not be able to get away.

Because of that, in Silesse, humans and pegasai created a clever system of coexistence that had been in place now for thousands of years.

When a newborn foal and a young girl developed a "bond," the foal would be able to calmly leave their mother and live with the girl. The girl (together with her family) would protect them and raise them. Then, when the girl grew into a young woman, she would become a pegasus knight, and ride that pegasus.

To foster the development of their wings to be able to fly the skies as magnificently as possible, it was best to provide pegasi a ground up mixture of animal proteins, meaning it was most effective for them to be raised by humans.

After many, many years of experience, to create the bond between them, it was considered best for the young girl alone to be by the foal's side. The girl and the pegasus, as lifelong partners together, would "imprint" on each other. After that, the two would sleep and eat together every day, gradually strengthening their bond. In the end, it all would make it possible for them to fight aerial battles together as allies.

A pegasai's life span was about twenty-five years. They became able to support a human rider at age five, and they were capable of the speeds needed to fight until at least eighteen years old, or twenty at the oldest.

This meant that a girl who bonded with a pegasus at around age seven or eight would first ride at age twelve or thirteen. After about two or three years, she would be skilled enough at riding to start training as a knight, and would make her debut as a pegasus knight at sixteen or seventeen. Then, it was customary for her to retire at age twenty-five if both she or her pegasus were not seriously injured before then.

That was the reason why most of Silesse's pegasus knights were young women.

In the past, young boys had also developed bonds with pegasi. However, due to the weight difference between adult men and women, men would become too much of a burden on the pegasi during long battles, so in the end, it became the norm for only women to become pegasus knights.

ー

One day, Annand went back and forth between her mother's teat and Fee's embrace multiple times throughout the day.

When it came close to sunset, the mother pegasus parted with her foal, and flew into the sky.

Annand intently watched her mother leave.

When Fee could no longer see her, she called out softly to Annand and said, "It's getting dark, so let's go home now. But don't worry! Your mommy will come back again tomorrow."

Annand looked at Fee, then nuzzled her.

And so, the two went home together.

Erinys was waiting for them at the door.

"Hi Mommy, look! This is my Annand. She's super cute, huh?"

"I'm so happy for you! But to be honest, I wasn't worried a bit. You are my daughter, after all. I knew you would come home with a cute pegasus. I also prepared a good meal for you both."

Ced had likely heard them talking, as he came outside as well.

"You did it, Fee! She's a cute little foal, huh?"

"Really? You think so too? She's super cute, right? Her name is Annand."

"Annand? That's a good name. Annand, I'm Ced. It's nice to meetcha." Ced walked up to Annand and crouched down to her level.

The foal wasn't scared at all, and nuzzled his face with her nose.

They went inside the house, and Fee gave Annand the food Erinys had prepared.

When Annand was full, Fee quickly ate her own meal. Annand had looked tired after eating, so they both went to the room Fee and Erinys had set up for Annand. It had belonged to Erinys' pegasus until two years ago.

Fee, with her mother's help, had laid out a soft layer of straw on the floor.

"You must be tired after such a long day! Sleep well."

Annand wasn't the only one who was tired.

They both laid down atop the straw, and immediately fell fast asleep.

ー

The mother pegasus stopped giving Annand milk about one week later.

On the last day, when Annand came up to her, she refused to feed her.

It seemed that Annand understood that her mother was saying goodbye. After her mother flew away, she clung to Fee like she would have her mother.

Wherever Fee went, she wanted to go as well.

The two spent nearly every hour of every day together. Before even a month had passed, they could both tell what the other was thinking.

Theirs was a true "bond."

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legendsoffodlan · 4 years

Text

Byleth Says Something Stupid

*This is based on my actual original theories on the game when I did my first playthrough*

“I’m pretty sure she’s my mother.”

Catherine looked up, feeling as though she’d been punched in the gut. She had been complaining to the Professor, trying to figure out why Lady Rhea favored them so much and they had just blurted out that sentence.

“I’m sorry, what?” asked Catherine.

Byleth shrugged. “I’ve got no evidence but it makes sense to me. My father was a Captain under her command, she couldn’t raise me because she was Archbishop, and dad faked our deaths so she wouldn’t have to choose. It would also explain why he didn’t want to come back so badly, it must be nothing but heartache for him.”

Catherine blinked. It was crazy. And yet... it made a twisted sort of sense. “Of course!” she exclaimed. “That’s why she gave a Professorship to some random twenty-something with no prior experience or even any knowledge of the Church! You’re her child!”

“Again, I have no proof.” said Byleth, but Catherine was already convinced.

“Damn, nepotism. Why didn’t I think of that before!.” Catherine chuckled and walked off, reassured that she had earned her place by Rhea’s side properly.

“Impossible!” cried Alois.

Catherine snorted. She, Shamir, and Alois were out for drinks and she had broken the news of her discovery. They had had... mixed reactions.

“Lady Rhea would never break her oaths like that! It’s blasphemy!” cried Alois.

Shamir rolled her eyes. “Oh come on Alois. Seiros herself got around, are we really gonna blame Lady Rhea for one little infidelity.”

Alois blanched and Catherine broke in. “Yup, all the stories agree. Seiros “blessed” men and women with her love. What’s that say to you? I’ve read a couple legends that called her “Guillotine-Hips Seiros.” True story”

Shamir groaned. “Those were fanfictions written by horny students, Catherine.”

Catherine waved her had dismissively. “Details.”

Alois slumped in his seat. “I can’t believe it. The Captain and Lady Rhea. And yet... it makes so much sense!”

Catherine nodded. “Yup, and now that I know Lady Rhea’s got a type, I gotta start growing a beard.”

Meanwhile, outside, Claude von Riegan listened with a dawning expression of relaization.

“Gods... it makes so much sense!”

Claude ended up telling the Deer, Lorenz ended up telling Ferdinand who told the Black Eagles, and from there the word spread to the Blue Lions. Soon all of Gareg Mach “knew” that Byleth was the child of Lady Rhea. Reactions were wildly mixed.

“AS IF THE PROFESSOR COULD BE ANY MORE UNATTAINABLE!” sobbed Edelgard and Dimitri to their respective retainers.

“And then Lady Rhea and Jeralt went to the Goddess Tower and-” wrote Annette in her fanfiction journal.

“Yeah, is this hair dye guaranteed to make my hair match the Archbishop’s?” asked Leonie of Anna.

“Welp, guess I’ve gotta kidnap Captain Jeralt and force him to confess his love to Lady Rhea.” sighed Cyril.

"BWHAHAHAHAHA!” laughed Solon and Thales.

“You realize you have no one to blame but yourself for this.” said Seteth as he poured another whiskey for Rhea.

“Oh I’m well aware of that Seteth.” growled Rhea. “The worst part is I can do nothing about it! If I publicly deny it the it will look like I’m just trying to spread a cover-up.

Seteth sighed. “They... uh... they aren’t, are they? Your child?” asked Seteth.

Rhea glared at him. “Of course not you blundering half-wit!” she roared at him. She quickly became sullen again. “They’re Sitri’s. I’m almost certain of it.”

“Ah.” said Seteth. “So... what shall we do?”

Rhea sighed. “I don’t know. All I do know is that Sitri will likely be waiting for me with a rusty carving knife in the afterlife when I finally buy the farm.”

Jeralt couldn’t have been more confused. He’d gotten back from his mission, only to be met with a mixture of pity, anger, and envy from everyone he met. That Sylvain kid had come up and begged him to “teach him his secrets”, and a sobbing Marianne had tried to shank him for “soiling her holiness’s honor”. What in the Hell’s was going on?!

“Captain.” said Hannerman as he passed him in the Halls. Oh thank the Goddess, finally someone sensible he could talk to.

“Hannerman, what’s going on? That Cyril kid just tried to catch me in a snare.” asked Jeralt.

Hannerman sighed. “Ah, yes, that. Well, he’s having an interesting reaction to finding out about your child.”

Jeralt frowned. “Byleth? What about them?”

“Well... the identity of their mother you see.” he said.

Jeralt felt his blood freeze in his veins. How?! How could they know Byleth was Sitri’s child!? He’d been so careful!

Hannerman continued to talk. “I just want you to know that no one here is going to judge you. We understand. Lady Rhea is a beautiful woman, and she is still as human as you or I, and of course-”

“Woah, woah, woah! What’s this about Rhea?!” cried Jeralt.

Hannerman frowned. “Why, that she’s dear Byleth’s mother of course.”

“BRRAAAATTTT!”

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laddieseddiemunster · 3 years

Note

Could you by any chance do Frog Bros (+Sam) headcanons for a reader who is also a vampire hunter? Like they’ve been a hunter all their life and their family moves to Santa Carla and they end up befriending the group after nearly getting killed by a vampire? 👉👈

Sam and the frog brothers are pretty underrated. I had to make up some backstory for the reader on how they became a vampire hunter, so hope you don’t mind. Awesome Monster Bashers Unite! Hope you enjoy :)

Frog Brothers + Sam w/ Vampire Hunter Reader (Platonic)

being a vampire hunter isn’t something people hear every day, but that’s exactly what you were. you had been hunting vampires almost your whole life.

it all started when you went camping for a school field trip. you were around 7 or 8 years old, and there was a lot of older teens there too. the older kids decided to scare the younger ones by telling them all a scary story about a vampire. unfortunately for you, you were one of the younger ones that was told the story.

they basically said that the campsite and cabins were all “haunted” by vampires that only come out at night. they also explained that every night one kid goes missing because that’s the child that they decided to hunt and kill. you were young and believed this story, and you went to sleep thinking that a vampire was going to come and kill you. none did. but, a kid that slept in your cabin was gone when you woke up. so you immediately thought that they were hunted and killed. (no one told you that the child who was “killed by vampires” was actually just picked up early in the morning by their parents). ever since then, you have been hunting vampires. you hadn’t killed any yet, but you kept some holy water and a stake with you at all times.

being a vampire hunter didn’t sit well with the people you went to school with. people thought you were a “freak” and often made fun of you. luckily, the bullying came to an end when your family announced that they were moving to a place called “Santa Carla”. you knew that you wouldn’t miss your old school and neighborhood at all. it had been a while since you had someone you could call a friend.

when you moved to Santa Carla you noticed that it had the label of “The Murder Capital of the World”. not the greatest first impression. all the missing posters just made you more unsettled. you obviously didn’t want your face to be on a missing poster, so you kept your stake, garlic, holy water, and the rest of your vampire hunting equipment near you at all times.

you had no evidence that there were actually vampires in santa carla, but you weren’t going to take any chances. that all changed one night when you were walking around the boardwalk by yourself. it was pretty late so there wasn’t a lot of people around. as you were walking past the shops you heard screaming coming from one of the alleyways. you walked towards the screaming holding onto the stake that was in the pocket of your jacket. when you found the alleyway where the screaming was coming from you noticed that the yelling was coming from kids that looked around your age. two of them were being held back by two guys that didn’t look like they were human. their faces looked evil.

the one that had been screaming was now pinned on the floor by another tall guy that didn’t have a human like face. the two that were being held back looked pretty petrified. one had a red bandana around his head, and the other had a camo jacket on. “get off of him you bloodsucker!” the one with the bandana said. you couldn’t make out what the “bloodsucker” had said. all you could tell was it was a mixture of growls and demonic laughter. you were somewhat relieved that you had some proof that vampires did exist, but now wasn’t the time to prove your enemies wrong. now was the time to kill the vampires that were about to kill the poor kid. you had prepared your whole life for this moment.

you quickly grabbed your stake and charged for the vampire that had the teen pinned under him. you couldn’t tell where his heart was since he was turned away from you, so you could only hope that your aim wouldn’t fail you. luckily, your aim hadn’t failed you and the stake went right through the vampires heart. it screamed loudly and let go of the boy that was under him. within seconds the screaming came to an end, and it was dead.

“you hunt vampires too?” the one that had been pinned asked. the other two were no longer being held back by the other vampires. it seemed that they immediately left when you killed their partner. you answered the question by showing them all of your vampire hunting equipment. they all looked pretty impressed and a bit surprised. you assumed that they probably weren’t used to people believing them about vampires.

after the whole ordeal they told you their names. the one that had been pinned and almost killed was sam emerson. “my brother was a vampire! he almost killed me!” he said. the other two were edgar and alan “the frog brothers”. they didn’t explain how they were introduced to vampires, they were more interested on how you became a vampire hunter like them. you explained to them that you were influenced by a campfire story, and even though it sounded silly you happened to be right. none of them could argue with that.

the frog brothers took you to their comic book store that morning. they didn’t worry about the dead vampire’s body being seen since he’ll end up burning completely from the first sunlight at dawn. edgar and alan showed you all of their vampire comics and gave you all of them for free. sam thought it was a bit unnecessary since you already were a vampire hunter, but for the frog brothers it was like an initiation. they wanted to know how educated you were about vampires.

once they all knew that you were pretty educated like they were, they explained to you their first vampire experience. to the point where sam’s brother was turned until to the point where they killed all the vampires at the emerson house. now they had been hunting any other vampires until there is none left. they were going to kill the ones from before, but it didn’t go as planned and they were lucky you showed up when you did.

sam was definitely the friendliest out of the three. when he first found out that you were a vampire hunter like them he was really eager to get to know you. he doesn’t let the whole vampire business get to his head. occasionally he just wants to do something fun and not always hunt for vampires. you and the frog brothers every now and then sleep over at sam’s house. his mother is pretty nice, and sam got to introduce you to his brother. “this is my brother, michael. you know, the ex vampire”. he’s definitely the most hyper out of the group, and is down to do anything fun. he’s super happy that you joined their group, and he hopes that you stay in santa carla forever.

alan was a bit skeptical about you joining their group at first, but once he got to know you he realized you were a good addition. even though him and his brother are always together, he is the nicer one out of the two. he was glad that you also hunted vampires, so you at least had something in common with him. even though he doesn’t have as big of temper as his brother he’d still be the kind of friend to beat someone up for you. or at least try. hes the “no one makes fun of my friends except for me” kind of friend. alan isn’t the type of friend to ask too many questions. mainly because he has a lot of secrets to keep because of his parents. if you make him mad he most likely won’t hold a grudge. if you don’t give him an apology then he might. if you do then he’s pretty chill about it. he doesn’t like being mad at people.

edgar was the one that didn’t think you were going to be a good addition at first, but he misjudged you. when he found out that you were pretty loyal to the group he knew that what he originally thought about you was wrong. when edgar has a friend it’s like he does everything in his power to not loose that friend. he doesn’t have that many people in his life, and the people he does have mean a lot to him. his brother alan, is like his other half, so if you make alan mad then edgar will be mad at you too. that’s just the way it goes. edgar does have a bad temper but he doesn’t mean to have one. it’s just something he’s had all his life, and doesn’t know how to get rid of. he doesn’t mean to be annoying or rude, he just doesn’t know how to express his frustration. you’ll have to be patient with edgar. if you’re patient with him then he’ll be patient with you.

edgar, alan, and sam got used to you pretty fast. it was like you had always been in their group, and they can’t imagine the group without you. it wouldn’t be the same. you were the fourth member of the Awesome Monster Bashers, and to all of you that meant the world.

#the lost boys #frog brothers #alan frog #edgar frog #sam emerson #the lost boys sam #awesome monster bashers #lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #corey feldman #corey haim #jamison newlander

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empty-dream · 3 years

Text

Yuuji is actually my most favorite JJK character and also one of my fav shonen protagonists. (Long babbling. Huge manga spoiler)

I think one of the charming points in JJK is that there is nothing actually new regarding plot points or characterizations, but they are slightly tweaked and played in an interesting way here and there. I could name a lot, but for starters, let’s begin with Yuuji himself.

Yuuji is basically your everyday shonen protagonist: Not straight-up pretty, kind-hearted, super friendly, has a specific girl type, rather dumb but genius at the physical stuff, usually rowdy, kinda underdog, and whose history is deliberately never talked about until faaaar later. But something about him and the nature of the series makes him rather different compared to other series’ main characters. First off, his goal. The stereotypical goals of popular shonen protagonists are usually to be the best at what they do, to eradicate whatever evil they face, or both. Sometimes the ambition may have underlying motifs such as wanting to be acknowledged or not being lonely, sometimes it does not. Yuuji, however, does not have that kind of wish.

His grandpa tells him to help people so he won't die alone before passing away. Borrowed ideal or not, for Yuuji that's already a solid goal. The goal itself is soon questioned as early as chapter 3 by Principal Yaga, and from there on the quest of helping people gets even more complicated. And since Yuuji's got noose on his neck, the goal becomes his stool to stay sane and move forward.

He admits that he is prone to be lonely. It's not some grand ambition. Yes, he’s the only one who can do it - become both Sukuna’s host and Jujutsu sorcerer - , and yes, if he doesn’t do it people will die. But at the core he moves because of the plain fear, of being alone and of guilt when he's all that's left. And this is established even before he swallows Sukuna's finger and gets pulled in jujutsu world, when he is still just a normal person. Those feelings, in fact, are why he ends up doing it and kickstarting the entire story.

So in a way you can speculate that while he obviously does think helping people is right and good, it's not that he finds helping people in itself as his #1 goal. Rather, it is a means to achieve his true goal: Not being alone in his death. His end goal is the way of which he will die, or in short, his death. I don't think the majority of people that age, or any age in fact, would answer that as their goal. The contrast of his sunny-dumb disposition and his rather sad wish really catches my eyes.

And the entire thing also becomes really interesting when Yuuji, who values people over everything, has to face Mahito, who disregards people as things. Then at the end of their fight in Shibuya, it is where Yuuji turning truly chilling. (It’s my favorite scene and panels btw, that’s stone cold. After Junpei, Nanami, Nobara and the countless humans that Mahito has cruelly transfigured and toyed with, there is no more reason or doubt needed. Yuuji accepts that what he’s doing is probably meaningless now. But whatever, killing Mahito is already as given as eating when hungry. Second factor is the relationship between the host and the demonic thing inside. In many typical shonen stories, the relationship tends to be bearable or even amicable in the end. Yuuji and Sukuna's, however, is played horrifically realistic. As mentioned, Yuuji is your generic naive guy. And Sukuna, the demon inside him, is an ancient, all-powerful, manipulative, ruthless demonic king. It’s made clear that Sukuna does not give a shit about Yuuji and will seize any and every opportunity to gain control and bring forth catastrophes. I knew that compared to more standard monster-inside-you in shonen manga, their case is bad. But holy shit it is THAT bad. Every time Sukuna fights, he enjoys causing destructions. Especially in Shibuya arc, where the fights are played painfully realistic with all the normal bystanders getting killed here and there and the whole district razed. I was like "God what will happen if Yuuji wakes up and sees this? He's not gonna be able to live with himself after this."

Which is exactly what happens. And get this, Sukuna specifically wants Yuuji to see the ruins, knowing full well his host would fall into despair. Earlier, Yuuji said he’d feel guilty for people whom Sukuna killed if he hadn’t been there to save them instead. Look at what happens. I cried when Yuuji just curled up all alone and wished for himself and himself only to die. This, when all he wants is to not die alone.

Third is the ‘memories that do not exist.’ Very sexy of Akutami to display Todo having made-up memories of him and Yuuji being brothers as a gag, then make it happen again with Choso but this time revealing it as a real issue: That those are literally made-up memories, implanted by something related to Yuuji, if not it being his own power. Yuuji, a not very brainy but very physically-inclined fighter, a cheerful guy who wishes to die surrounded by beloved ones, has something to do with inserting himself on people's memories. This is like if Naruto has the power of Bleach's Tsukishima. There is something very intriguing, and imo a bit disturbing, about that mixture. Fourth, by the way, why does Sukuna look like Yuuji, extra appendages notwithstanding? Is it simply because that's his host's face, or does his own face actually look like that by default? If it's the latter, doesn't that mean there is something deeper about their relation? Why is Yuuji of all people able to host Sukuna? And remember when Yuuji's grandpa wants to talk about Yuuji's parents before he dies? Who and where are his parents, anyway? How did they give birth to a guy who is so physically gifted he can actually run like a car without magic? And in the first place why does Yuuji's grandpa die alone? Who really are the Itadoris? Akutami-sensei opEN UP I HAVE QUESTIONS. Tl;Dr So yeah, it's not that Yuuji's so inherently different from other shonen protagonists, or he stands out like a sore thumb. It's just that the few existing differences do make him somewhat off compared to everyone else. And the more I think about it, the more I have questions about Yuuji, because as of this writing (Shibuya arc aftermath, Okkotsu appointed as Yuuji’s executioner), not much is known about him. But in contrast to the looming mysteries and the gloomy wish, the guy himself is naturally a cheerful, goofy and a very good person. The juxtaposition is just ... *chef kiss while crying*

#jkk spoilers #jujutsu kaisen #yuuji itadori #random saying #brain and heart go brr

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wings-of-a-storm · 4 years

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So there’s a scene in ‘Love, Victor’ that I can’t seem to stop thinking about. It just fascinates me to a ridiculous level (probably more than it warrants, to be honest). It’s when Benji sings ‘Call Me Maybe’ to Victor at Battle of the Bands.

Yes, this moment! I have yielded to its power.

Like where the hell do I even begin to start unpacking the existence of this kind of moment so early on in the show?

To start with, I used to be haunted by the question: Was Benji actually singing to Victor with that intense eye-contact for the whole song or was the entire thing just “Victor Vision” and symbolic of what Victor wishes was happening?

And at first, my answer was: There’s just no wayyyy Benji could have actually done that! For the simple reason of HOW THE HELL WOULD HE HAVE BEEN ABLE TO JUSTIFY THAT TO HIMSELF? Singing a love song inspired by another guy, to that guy’s face, while the boyfriend he is super committed to is literally standing beside him, dropping phat beats on his bass to help the song come to life?

And yet…over the course of the performance, Benji starts to look almost angry/bitter/sad as he’s singing.

And as soon as the performance wraps up, Benji’s eyes are still locked right onto Victor’s as he steps off the stage. Like there is no searching, he knows exactly were Victor is and heads straight to him. And even more telling, once his Singer Persona drops off, he is nervously fiddling with his hands as he walks to Victor, like he’s waiting for Victor’s verdict of the performance. Kind of like: “Did you like it? Because I know how much you love that song and I sang it for you.”

I mean… Excuse me, sir? Consider me convinced that Benji really was singing it while staring at Victor the whole time, and Victor Vision just embellished parts. And you know what, that suddenly turns a fairly tropey scene into something so much more psychologically stimulating. Welcome to the holy trifecta of burning questions:

- Why did Benji make a cover in the first place? - Why did he sing it staring at Victor the whole time? - How did he justify it to himself?

The beauty of Benji's enigma is that the answers to those questions can be anything you want them to be. So many reasons fit, and so many overlap. It’s really rather fun to try and figure it all out, especially when there aren’t really any wrong answers.

So I guess here are mine:

WHY DID BENJI MAKE A COVER IN THE FIRST PLACE?

Fact: After sharing a fun Moment with Victor (dancing together like no one but Victor’s mother was watching, hah), Benji went home inspired to turn that song into a cover of his own. Why? Looking at it logically, their time together must have meant a lot to Benji, more than anyone could have realised. It affected him to the point where he had to preserve that moment, live in it for a bit longer, and also unpack it in his own mind in a way he’s most familiar and comfortable with: a creative outlet.

I love the idea of Benji listening to ‘Call Me Maybe’ over and over again when he got back home. At first just to relive the high he got from sharing such an uninhibited Moment with Victor (a rare occurrence after spending so much of his time walking around egg shells with Derek?). But then, after the nth play, getting the inspiration to make his own slower version of the track to better explore his feelings about that night and the way Victor makes him feel. Then finally re-listening to the song over and over again but this time to get the right chords and the right splicing/arrangement of lyrics that could convey his feelings but not completely cross the line into full on romance…

But Benji making that cover could have been inspired by so many tangled up reasons, like:

- He realised the lyrics were mirroring his own thoughts and experience, so singing it out loud was helping him process the harmless crush he seemed to be developing

- He wanted to preserve the memory of their dancing Moment because it gives him a dose of happy feels to relive it

- He may have partly intended to make the new version as a sort of gift to Victor that he’d one day play for him (maybe even at Battle of the Bands if Victor changed his mind and showed up). A gift that would further tie them together and cement their friendship, be a way to show Victor how much their friendship already means to him, and give back a little to Victor for trusting Benji with personal/embarrassing information about his guilty pleasures. Like a pre-Drawing gift, with similar energy

And let’s be real, also to try to impress Victor so that Benji can feel a little cool and desirable since it seems he doesn’t often get to feel that way around Derek. Like seriously, who can forget the lingering looks of anticipation Benji gave Victor when he first told him he was a Lead Singer in a Band. He wanted to impress Victor so badly. And who wouldn’t crave Victor’s sweet brand of attention?

Okay, so now Benji has a cover. But…

WHY DID BENJI SING IT STARING AT VICTOR THE WHOLE TIME?

Well firstly, how passionate must Benji have been behind the scenes if he was able to arrange a cover in less than 24 hours before the contest and prioritise it in band practice so that everyone was on board with his musical whim? (And how did he convince Derek to play such an unpretentious song?)

But I imagine the Intense Staring was probably a mixture of:

- Benji had probably spent a lot of the night hoping that Victor would miraculously show up after all (that mood of secretly looking through the crowd every so often throughout the night just in case…). And then when Victor actually did show up, Benji made the band play CMM even though they were still workshopping it, and got so caught up in his excitement and determination, he zeroed in on Victor hard and forgot to reign it in

- Because Benji feels something for Victor (even if he can’t name what exactly that is), and performance is a safe way to express the things he’s not meant to be feeling. It’s a safe space because when you’re performing something, you have the creative freedom to be someone else, to become another version of yourself, a persona, with the license to use whatever emotions you have in your arsenal to tell a story. Benji could express his yearning and fascination (etc) for Victor with the distance of a parallel universe or alternate reality. Stage Benji is allowed to stare

- Because Mia was there with Victor and Benji felt compelled and determined to win Victor’s attention back. You know, some good old fashioned jealousy born of insecurity -- that feeling of being a little insecure and protective of a new friendship, of wanting that person to just see you as special, of feeling like you have something to prove or you’ll end up forgotten in the background. (And maybe he was also a little sick of straight(?) girls having it so easy with the cute guys…)

- Because Benji subconsciously wanted to telegraph to Victor that he is interested in him (and is bitter that it’s not that simple) and wanted to see if Victor bites back. For science

- Or maybe because Benji saw a perfect chance to perform the song as a cute gift to Victor since he actually showed up, but then his intentions quickly unravelled into the prior points, haha

And that leads me to…

HOW DID HE JUSTIFY THE INTENSE* STARING TO HIMSELF?

(*Because even if the song was meant to be something innocent like a homage to an in-joke with Victor or a harmless means to process his feelings on this new and exciting friendship with an attractive boy, the intensity with which he sang it felt like something else entirely. It transcended friendship into a very ambiguous zone. And there was so much yearning in it. Particularly by the end...)

I think Benji probably justified his behaviour by thinking:

- It’s okay for Lead Singer Benji to stare at his muse while performing a story. (It’s just a persona, there’s no need for guilt!)

- It’s normal to be excited by a new friendship and it’s okay to want to sing a giddy song about that experience. And at worst, it’s just a harmless crush that will eventually fade once the novelty wears off. It’s not like he has any intention to do anything further with it since he is committed to Derek. It’s just fun to feel the tingles of a teeny crush…….

Alright, that’s it. I’m out. I’m done. I’ve got nothing left. Thanks for the ride, Benji, you mysterious, complicated, hopeless romantic.

#Love Victor #Benji Campbell #Victor Salazar #Venji #Battle of the How Dare You

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coreymichaelsmithson · 3 years

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The Lights of Treasure Island

For the past few years, I've been living on a barrier island named Anastasia. A sandy, sleepy, slow place, just off the coast of our nation's oldest city, Anastasia Island features tall palm trees and gorgeous beaches, along with excellent sushi and a surprisingly active arts scene. Its most splendid attraction, though, is an old lighthouse, one striped with a black and white spiral and crowned by a bright red lamphouse. It towers commandingly over the dunes, casting a long beam that can be seen from nearly anywhere in town.

I've always liked lighthouses. In days of old we set these magnificent lanterns on the edge of the sea, to guide sailors through dark and treacherous waters, to show them the way home. Lighthouses represent so many things we need: safety, comfort, reliability, navigation. But in my mind, these structures hold the magic of candles, the magic of illumination itself. When we speak of enlightenment, we may be speaking specifically of rationality and discovery, but we are also conjuring images of light prevailing over darkness. And in this way the lighthouse emerges as a powerful symbol of the spirit.

This February, for my 47th birthday, I explored the Outer Banks of North Carolina, where I saw several amazing lighthouses. Impressive as they were, I did not think they quite compared with the singular majesty of the structure that stands on Anastasia Island. After a harrowing return journey, one in which I drove with no working alternator (and sometimes without headlights or windshield wipers) through nearly 700 miles of tornadic thunderstorms, I felt the most profound relief when I finally crested the peak of the SR-312 bridge, which connects my island to the mainland, and I saw those familiar black and white stripes in the distance, signaling that I had made it home. Less than half a year later, my feelings about this special lighthouse of mine would be forever changed by a chance encounter.

Just under two months ago, I received a brief and rather unremarkable message from a stranger on Scruff, a queer dating platform that I use. One might charitably call Scruff "a social club for discerning gentlemen" ... it appeals to men who are hirsute, meaty, perpetually horny, and even a few of us freaks who defiantly straddle the line between "butch" and "nancy". Since this man's profile didn't really offer all that much information, and his one available picture wasn't particularly compelling, I promptly tucked his message away and forgot about it, and went for my customary sunset walk on the beach.

I live exactly one mile from the southern boundary of a state park, which offers a four-mile stretch of pristine dune habitat, completely undeveloped and sparsely occupied. The only man-made objects in sight are a few empty lifeguard stands, the city's sightseeing pier, a radio antennae, and our lighthouse. Dolphins gather here, their dorsal fins rising and falling between the breakers. Squadrons of pelicans fly in tight formations, gliding only a few feet above the water's surface. Terns and sea turtles nest in its sands, and I've found many shark teeth among the sea shells and ghost crab burrows. This is a special place, a holy place, and I've made a daily ritual of enjoying its cloudscapes and crepuscular glow as I explore the edge between land and sea.

After a pleasant stroll, maybe an hour or so of blissful meditation, I turned around and started heading back towards my car when I caught sight of a man who had just walked out of the water and was now drying himself off. We locked eyes.

He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. Arrestingly beautiful, the kind of handsome that stops you dead in your tracks. I just kind of gulped for a second, and then walked right up to him, with an audacity that I didn't even know I possessed, turned on every damn bulb in my Christmas tree, and murmured, "Hi!", making the word shimmer like tinsel. In a short amount of time, I learned that he was a Russian artist, born in St. Petersburg but living in Moscow. I had met him during a brief pause on his long drive from Jacksonville to Key West; he had only intended on stopping in St. Augustine long enough to explore our old Spanish fort and take a swim on our nicest beach. He possessed a keen intellect, a quick wit, and a laudable command of English. As we spoke, he kept giving me flashes of the most mischievous smile, and so when I finally asked him what he was grinning about, he revealed that he was the same man who had messaged me earlier. This came as a surprise, for I hadn't recognized him at all ... I had only been drawn in now by his gorgeous movie-star looks, the undeniable sex appeal of his dripping wet body, and some weird sense of destiny.

We talked. We talked some more. We went to dinner. And then he stayed for the better part of three days.

In my bed, we enjoyed the most astonishing kind of communion. Our nights and mornings were filled with such tenderness ... soft eyes, soft caresses, fearlessly sustained gazes, the kind of kisses that tell a hundred little stories. One by one, various secrets were brought to light. We shared toe-curling carnality, thunderous climaxes, an unalloyed and unembarrassed intimacy. We shared joy.

On our second day together, I took him to the top of Anastasia Island's lighthouse. We lingered on each landing to kiss and giggle, and our embraces grew more intense. We felt a stronger and stronger pull towards one another. I knew that this was more than just a simple infatuation. By the time we reached the lantern's round balcony, and stepped out together onto the most spectacular view of St. Augustine, I knew that I was falling in love.

I don't blame you for rolling your eyes at this. You may, in your justifiable cynicism, think it ridiculous for a man to utter such a powerful phrase within such a short time. But if you've ever known me, you've come to recognize by now my considerable capacity for love. My passions and appetites may rise to the surface with little interference, and will I admit some recklessness in how I've invested my energies, but I am no fool. I am neither naïve nor desperate. And I can say in all sincerity that what we felt then was, at least for a short while, genuine love.

From the top of the lighthouse we could see everything. The old downtown, with its mixture of colonial and Spanish Renaissance buildings. The Matanzas River, named for the 1565 massacre of shipwrecked Huguenots, separating my island from the mainland. The harbor of St. Augustine, crowded with sailboats and pleasure craft, a forest of masts. And then the sea, blue and inviting, the sea that would soon separate us. We held each other tightly and looked upon the Atlantic together, casting our dreams towards the horizon, into this vista of seemingly endless possibility and hope.

On our last night together, we took a naked midnight swim in my pool, which is lit from above by a row of blue lights. A light and warm rain fell on our heads as we twined our legs underwater, and our ardor cast a web of rippling refractive patterns on the pool's concrete bottom. He looked me in the eyes, kissed me with the utmost gentleness, and formally invited me to come stay with him in Moscow. I accepted with my new magic word, "Да."

The following morning, our parting was so sweet, and so warm. We solidified our promise to be reunited. He drove down to Key West, enjoying a music playlist I assembled for him, and then he flew up to New York for a week's visit with old friends. After he returned to Moscow, we embarked on a passionate long-distance affair via telephone and social media apps.

I plunged right away into the Russian language, practicing for hours a day, rediscovering my knack for linguistics. I bought books on the cities of Moscow and St. Petersburg, books on Russian verbs, flashcards, a portable dictionary. I subscribed to online learning programs, put apps on my phone, read up on the country's history. I was all in, bringing every available bit of my enthusiasm, work ethic, and inventiveness to the challenge. Every day, I would send him sweet little videos or text messages ... sharing good news, conveying small but significant events of my daily life, showing off my rapidly accelerating grasp of Russian. I sent him notes of encouragement, pictures of me looking my cutest, small but enjoyable details of my life on Anastasia Island. I sent him a short clip of the black skimmers that sliced back and forth across the thin swash of the surf, their beaks dipping into half an inch of water. I sent him pelicans, beach crabs, waves, paintings, difficult words, idioms, cute terms of venery, sunsets, clouds, kisses, evidence of my changing body. I sent him love, every day. "каждый день," I promised him, placing my hand on my heart, "каждый день." Every day.

My love deepened by the hour. I know this is going to sound so gushy and gross, but I really pushed the lighthouse metaphor pretty hard, calling myself "твой смотритель маяка" or "your lighthouse keeper". I meant this in all sincerity, without a drop of bathos or schmaltz. Our time atop the lighthouse was sacred to me. I promised him that I would keep its light burning bright.

Over time, however, things shifted. As my interest grew, his began to dwindle. He sent less and less of himself, slowly removing from our conversation his humor, his sexuality, his warmth, his trust. It was like seeing a fully assembled jigsaw puzzle get lifted into the air, and watching all the pieces falling out ... at first only a few at a time, then more and more, until there was only a jagged perimeter where there had once been a lovely picture.

The nadir came when he lost his temper with me over my visa. I was confused about the process, as the Russian consulate and other sources were providing patchy and often conflicting information, and his own explanations changed from day to day. During our last video chat, I asked one too many questions, and he snapped. He rolled his eyes, effectively called me stupid and childish, and hung up on me three times. My many attempts at reconciliation were completely rebuffed. It was both baffling and extraordinarily painful.

Two days after our fight he was in a terrible car accident, one from which he miraculously escaped unharmed. He posted on social media an impassioned paragraph about the event, and how it drew into sharp focus all the love he had in his life, how he felt that he wasn't deserving of such love, how grateful he was for his friends. Yet instead of contacting me, inviting me into this experience, or trying to repair our frayed connection, he spent his evenings logging back into Scruff, the aforementioned dating app. He continued to ignore me, choosing instead to pursue (or perhaps refresh) other opportunities. I tried in vain to reach him, to restore our bond, but was met with only the most chilling silence.

How had I been so wrong? Had my desire devolved into mere obsession, albeit one artfully disguised as love? Had my zeal somehow suffocated him? The irony for me was that this disastrous affair unfolded during a period of rapid and positive transformation. In the space of the last seven months, I'd already changed my diet, fixed my teeth, joined a gym, paid off a chunk of my debt, reorganized my home office, purchased a standing desk, resumed my daily beach walks, started seeing both a psychiatrist and a therapist. My relationship to my body was improving, I was working at a higher level of professional responsibility, gaining new clients, writing my fourth novel, and churning out the finest paintings of my career. A recent experience with ayahuasca had given me valuable insights into my adulthood. It seemed only right that this Russian should be the cherry on my sundae, a prize I had been working so hard to deserve.

And so, after admitting my own disenchantment, I surrendered. Reeling from an overwhelming feeling of loss, I wrote him a heartfelt letter in Russian, one in which I explained the hurt his indifference was causing me. I poured a lot of benevolent energy into this letter. And then I said to him the saddest word I've learned in Russian, "Прощай", which is the type of goodbye you use when you think you are not likely to see someone again. It translates, literally, into "forgive me."

Here is the letter I wrote to him, translated into English:

***

"V_____, beautiful V____:

Okay. I give up.

Your silence gave me a very clear and very painful answer. You have been entrusted with something rare and beautiful, and you have shown that you do not want it. So now it's gone.

I'm sorry my heart bored you so much. I will no longer annoy you with my desires.

The love that I offered you ... pure and strong, given without demands or jealous limitations ... does not come often.

It pains me to realize that you do not appreciate what I have tried to give you. It is even more painful to realize that I may have aggravated the situation with my zeal. But the distance that you put between us is your choice, and I must respect that.

It seems that the epiphany you experienced in the car accident, the moment you thought of all the love in your life, did not include my love for you. Your priorities are yours, and I accept that. But you almost died yesterday, V_____. And instead of choosing to bond with a man who cares about you so much, your focus shifted to Scruff. Your indifference is so obvious now. Please do not say anything ugly or cruel in response. There is already enough sorrow on my island. I feel both grief and embarrassment, but not anger. I've always wanted the best for you, and it's still true.

I sincerely wish you a long and happy journey. I hope you enjoy many successes and find many pleasures. I hope you stay healthy. I hope the man you choose deserves your best gifts. I hope you find a better lighthouse. I must direct my light now to those who are really looking for it. So now I must tell you the saddest word that I have learned in your language.

Goodbye."

***

Please allow me now to rewind a few years, and tell a correlative story.

In the autumn of 2019, during a period of intense sadness and frustration, I fled from Anastasia Island and drove impulsively across the state to the Gulf Coast. I didn't have a clear destination, I didn't pack enough clothes or supplies, and I was so blinded with tears and unexpressed rage that I didn't know where I was, or even care much about where I might land. While getting lost somewhere in the vicinity of St. Petersburg, I glanced at a map, dragged my finger along the squiggly coastline, saw the name Treasure Island, and thought, "That's gotta be the place."

I don't know what I was expecting to find there. Something about the name sounded so exciting, so exotic. And as the evening wore on, my anticipation grew. I thought, in my desperation, that everything would be all right once I got to Treasure Island. Over the next few hours, I convinced myself that I'd finally feel good again in such a place, that my pain and confusion would certainly evaporate once I reached this safe haven. I'd check into a nice hotel room, preferably one with 300 thread-count sheets and a coffee maker, and I'd dream about pirate ships and gold doubloons, and when I opened my eyes and yawned and stretched against the sun-dappled pillows my life would basically feel like a commercial for some bougie brand of almond milk. When I arrived, however, I was deeply disappointed to see another narrow stretch of high-rise hotels, littered beaches, rank seaweed, and greyish-brown water. I found the cheapest hotel room around, one of the few remaining vacancies on the shore, and there I found neither crisp bedsheets nor good coffee. The view from my balcony, however, was utterly amazing: I could see not only a broad curving swath of the beach, but also a glow of distant resort hotels, some of them reflected in the waves. It was strangely romantic, seeing these twinkling lights ... red, gold, green, blue ... and their silent conversation with the stars, a dialogue of jewels above the warm churning waters of the Gulf. But it wasn't the salvation I had been hoping for.

When I got up the next morning, I was still facing the same problems, the same irritations, the same heavy sorrows. Treasure Island would not, could not, rescue me from myself. So I drove back home to my own island, back to my lighthouse, and was relieved to discover that it was in fact even more stirring than I had remembered. During my absence Anastasia Island had become a magical and restorative place, quite different than the one I had left only days before.

What I should have learned back then, but have only come to realize now, was this: I didn't need to travel to a distant island of treasure and twinkling stars, for my own island already had plenty of both. I didn't need to seek the incandescence of a handsome man to light my way, as my own inner flame was at last beginning to shine without the shutters of inhibition or profligacy.

I am now recalling my disappointment with Treasure Island, while concurrently considering my grief over the Russian. At first, I wanted to hate him for his carelessness, for how he squandered my gifts. But I don't hate him. Not really. There's no need to wring my hands any further over his callousness. I don't even mourn his absence anymore. My mood has shifted today, and I no longer choose to see this abortive liaison as being so devastating. For I know, deep down, that the failure here was not really mine. I am not a loser for investing myself unreservedly in someone who could not fully appreciate me, nor I am not the weaker man for feeling injured. I will not be permanently depleted for having offered all that kindness to an undeserving recipient, as my wellspring of love remains inexhaustible.

I tried to share my lighthouse with the Russian. But he did not recognize how special it really was, and he declined to follow its beacon to a rewarding harbor. And thus, our romance was destroyed, and his memory became just another broken boat littering the shallows.

I have seen so many ruins in my years: bad relationships, lousy jobs, soured opportunities. My life story reads like a ledger of dashed hopes. It seems sometimes that both the island I occupy and the more elusive island I am eternally seeking are surrounded by shipwrecks. Yet the lighthouse of my spirit still stands, sturdier and stronger than ever. The waves may batter its bricks, salt may scour its surfaces, it may occasionally groan under its own weight ... but it will not crumble, it will not fail, and even in the darkest of hours this lamp of mine will continue to shine: bright, focused, undiminished.

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missbrightsky · 4 years

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Summertime and Swords

Fics Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Chapter 2: Rhysand

Summertime in Velaris was hot. Sweltering, humid, no relief to be found, hot.

This made it dangerous for the citizens of the city. It was common for our station to be called out on heat exhaustion emergencies. Construction workers, pool patrons, the elderly in their various homes, everyone was subject to the heat of the day.

I woke up ready for more calls to come through until my chief called me into his office.

Today it seemed, I had drawn the short straw and would be doing fire extinguisher inspections at an apartment building at the edge of town. I didn’t mind it too much if it meant that I wouldn’t have to run around answering calls. He gave me a clipboard with the checklist and sent me on my way with an address.

Even though it was just past eight in the morning, the sun was already forcing its heat into the air and ground, turning whatever dew gather overnight into steam. My hair started to curl and dampen in the humidity, sweat beaded on my forehead. I hustled to the subway system, hoping that it would be cool enough there to stave off the oncoming heat.

Two train rides and another sweaty walk later, I was standing outside of the building, double-checking the address. It looked to be about 10 stories high and its once white bricks were stained grey and black from the decades of city pollution. I pressed the button that indicated the landlord for the building and waited. And waited. And waited. I pressed it again, vaguely hoping that he didn’t answer, and I could go get myself a bubble tea from the shop I saw a few blocks away.

Then, through the crackling speakers came a gruff, slightly slurred voice. “Whaddaya want?”

“Hi, sir, I’m here to do the fire extinguisher inspections?” I said bringing out my most polite voice.

The man grumbled something that didn’t make it through the mic and a buzzer sounded, unlocking the door for me.

I pushed past the outer iron door and the interior door to find myself in a dimly lit hallway mostly filled by what I can only describe as a glob of a man. His white wife-beater was stained yellow and brown like he hardly washed it (or changed out of it). Funnily enough, the colors matched his teeth.

“Here’s the apart-burp-ments that need to be inspected,” he shoved a scrap of paper my way, the scrawl just legible.

I scanned the list, looks like only a dozen or so needed to be done. I flinched back as something silver flew at me, catching me in the shoulder and sliding into my hands.

“There are the keys, everyone is at work, no need to knock,” and then fixing me with a surprisingly intense, bloodshot stare, “Hurry up and get ‘em done, you’re cutting into my TV time.” How me taking the keys so he didn't have to accompany me cut into his TV time, I didn’t know but also didn’t argue with him as I set off to find the first apartment.

The first few were easy, the fire extinguishers either in plain sight or under the sink. I even got to pet a friendly cat which was curious as to what I was doing in their home.

The fifth one on my list changed my life forever.

Unlocking the door, I stepped into an apartment that was hot. Cutting a glance over to the window unit, I saw that it was off. Maybe the tenant was trying to save on electric while they were at work.

The second thing I noticed was that any free space in the place was taken up by paintings or painting supplies. Large and small, bright and dark, there were pieces everywhere. The few closest to me were of the big park in the middle of the city. I recognized the waterfall that I visited on my days off, it lovingly rendered by a careful hand.

Gorgeous paintings aside, I was resolved to get this one done as fast as possible because the heat in here was starting to get unbearable. Turning, I immediately banged into a table that I didn't see, sending some brushes clattering over each other. Whoops. I scooped them up and placed them in their original place before turning to the kitchen to find the fire extinguisher.

That’s when my life went sideways.

Literally.

One moment I was on my feet and the next I was on the ground with a bruise forming on my side and a battle cry echoing in my ears. Or maybe that was my own scream.

Twisting to see what the fuck just hit me, I froze, every thought in my head eddying out.

A woman just hit me.

A naked woman with wide blue eyes and a sword just hit me and knocked me on my ass.

“Fuck.” We both said.

She sounded absolutely mortified. At what, I didn’t know because she was beautiful. Her body was lithe but not skinny. Curves in all the right places but it was her face that was the true masterpiece.

Graceful cheekbones with adorable freckles sprinkled across. Blue eyes that could have been gray were stretched wide open along with a full mouth that was still parted in horror.

Oh, maybe she was mortified because she had just attacked someone with a sword while naked. And I was staring like a creep.

That mouth opened and closed, absolutely lost for words.

“Your landlord let me in so I could inspect your fire extinguisher.” Really? That’s the first thing you say? Not ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘holy shit you’re beautiful’ or LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE?????

“Ah,” was all she said in response before disappearing back into what was probably her bedroom.

I almost blurted ‘come back’ but bit down on my tongue to keep the words from escaping. This woman just went through a traumatic experience and didn’t need me acting like a pervert.

Shock still made my limbs numb. Walking into a burning building? No problem. Rescuing a cat from a tree? Easy. Being knocked to the ground by a gorgeous woman with a sword? My inner weeb took control of my body and rendered me useless.

Either seconds or hours later, I still hadn’t moved from the ground when she reappeared, a pale blue robe now covering her and sword nowhere to be seen.

“Sorry about that, my landlord failed to inform me that they would be doing inspections,” gods even her voice was—stop that!

“I’m sorry,” came out as an accidental whisper, so I tried again louder with, “He told me that no one was home. I should have knocked.” No shit, Sherlock.

The woman grimaced, her lovely mouth turning down. “Yeah, he does that sometimes.”

The words exchanged finally shook the rest of my body from its state of shock and I was finally able to stand up. I watched as she scanned my body, reading the look on her face that seemed to be a mixture of appreciation and disbelief.

I blushed at the frank assessment, those blue eyes stripping me down to my core, and turned away. I lifted my hand and scratched the back of my neck. A nervous tick my mother was never able to stop.

“At least take me to dinner first,” I mumbled nearly under my breath, unable to stop the teasing words in hope to lighten the situation.

“Um, sorry?”

Probably for the best she didn’t actually hear me say that. “Where do you keep your fire extinguisher?” That was much safer territory.

“Oh, under the sink,” she led me to her kitchen and bent over to open up the door. My eyes immediately dropped to where the hem of her robe started to rise up before I forced myself to look away and retrieve the clipboard I had dropped. She’s already been through enough and doesn’t need you staring at her.

I knelt down and took out the fire extinguisher, letting the familiar motions of inspecting it calm my mind and hands.

Tick tick tick my pen made checkmarks down the list. Everything was in order for her’s, so I finished and stood up.

She met my eyes again and held my gaze.

They were spectacular. Not just blue, but the gray I saw before were flecks of it with a tiny hint of green near the pupil. Incredible.

She looked away before I did. I was done and I should have left but something held me there.

“Um, you have a good swing,” trying again to lighten the mood. She was able to put me on my ass with it.

“What? For a girl?” she nearly snapped out. Shit.

“Oh! Uh, no-no,” I stuttered, cursing myself for the stupid comment. “Just like, in general.” I scratched the back of my neck again. Failed again at trying to be normal.

“Oh,” was all she said, still looking away.

“I’m Rhysand, by the way,” might as well try to be friendly then.

“Feyre. I’m sorry again for… before,” looks like we both were struggling with normalcy but after what happened that was to be expected, I guess.

“For bringing me down with spectacular sword moves?”

She jumped, “Um, yeah.”

“Well, I promise not to tell anyone if you promise not to tell the others at the station, they’d never let me live it down.” Truth. Cas and Az would laugh at me all day and into the night and then bring it up every day after.

She snapped her head to look at me, her gaze searching. After a moment, a small grin twisted her mouth into something pretty, “I think I can promise that.”

I offered a smile of my own, and then watched her eyes flicker to my mouth and then away. Interesting.

“Well, I have a few more inspections to do, but I doubt they’ll be as exciting as this one.”

She laughed at that, looking surprised as the chuckle slipped out. It sent me laughing as well.

“No, they probably won’t be,” humor tingeing her voice finally.

Something not of my own volition had me pulling my card from my pocket and saying, “If you ever have any problems with your fire extinguisher, give me a call. And if you don’t…” my eyes sweeping over her body again, praying that I had read her looks from earlier right, “Give me a call anyways.”

She took the card, our fingers brushing and sending tingles up my arm.

“I’ll be sure to do that.”

I gave her an unrestrained smile and was glad to see that she returned the same.

#acotar #feysand #feyre #rhysand #feyre x rhysand #sarah j maas

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ziracona · 4 years

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I am both kind of glad she didn't like. Spiral into thoughts or more realization of what exactly she's done to these people. But also not, because I love angst. So. Questions. Will she ever meet the other survivors? What will their interactions be like? Who do you think she gets along with most? Will she meet any other killers? (probs introduced by other survivors??) And also. A painful one but. Does the entity realize she's lying? Do you think you'll continue this story in anyway?

Haha, I feel that. Adiris certainly will hit that horror realization more completely than she did during her breakdown in the archives room. I think because of her realizations of both what she’s done and just how much danger she and they and everybody upstairs depending on her is in suddenly because of the truth, happening at the same, she had a whole lot of fear and anger in play (I was used and hurt and manipulated and lied to and made to suffer, whatever you[Not Nergal/Entity] are, you have been doing horrible stuff to innocent people for no good reason, my people have also been manipulated and lied to and forced to suffer, oh Gods what happens to us if he knows I know? What can I do to save my people and myself and these foreigners? Can I do anything?) and I think the immediacy of the parts of that she had to act on hit so hard it was her core focus, but next time she either is in a trial and has to method act through hunting down people she now knows are not murderers and infidels, or the first time she’s in a safer and more calm setting with the survivors and one of them mentions something, that will all uhhh, it’ll hit home. I’m sure. God, this poor woman.

Okay! For the questions.

“Will she ever meet the other survivors?”

Yes. Definitely, and all of them.

“What will those interactions be like?”

It’s hard to say since I haven’t written that yet, but probably exceedingly awkward. I think there’s a lot of inherent fear from them towards her, and like, how would you feel talking with someone you used to murder a lot because you thought they were the enemy? Nnnmnnnnn probably not great! TuT which is how she gon be feeling. I think she is very aware she’s coming from a place of power, and is also still super used to thinking of herself as a priestess/holy/kind of removed, so she’ll try to approach it like that. Reassuring, and thoughtful/careful to not be scary or threatening, but also in control and a little aloof. And probably after a little time with the survivors, who will all go from “Scary. D:” to “A curiosity but in a good way. Weird. Neat. Still kinda spooky.” to “I like her : )” and thinking of her the way they would any normal human (the normal version of the fkn speedrun Quentin & Dwight went through), she’ll have to adjust to being treated like a normal person, and the way 21st century humans act when they’re being casual and friendly—which honestly, not too different from being friendly throughout history, but sadly either way not something this girl is used to. I think it’ll be weird and she’ll be nervous to try shifting identities from one of the only two things she’s ever known how to be, and into normal human and friend, but that it’ll also be really welcome. Because she has literally never gotten to have a family or a normal life or a friend or any single goddamn healthy or even decent relationship with another living human being. And like, god, humans need that. On a DNA level—We die in isolation. And she hasn’t been “isolated,” but she’s been mostly isolated her whole life, and she sure as hell has never ever gotten to belong or have any kind of certainty or permanence in her relationship, even her spiritual ones. She needs that. She just needs someone to look at her, go: “There’s a human being right there, and I see who she is, and I think she’s very worthwhile. I would like to keep her in my life.” God, she needs that so, so badly. I don’t think she knows it, but she really, really, desperately does.

And she deserves it, too. None of the abandonments or alienations or failures in her life are things she did wrong. But when that kind of thing keeps happening to a person, it sure as hell makes them feel like it. So, haha, sorry, got carried away (the name of my memoir probably >.>). But I think she’d be awkward, and confused, and then nervous, because she’d be invited into something she has literally never had, doesn’t know how to do right, but also desperately wants without fully understanding, which is a terrifying combination to work with socially. But then deeply impacted and happy and moved. Also afraid—I mean, girl smiled without doing it on purpose one time and flipped out emotionally with no idea why, because every time she has felt attachment or sought belonging or thought she had it her whole life, she’s been routinely betrayed and abandoned. She’s a lot more than once burned. But after the initial fear, she would be a mixture of happy and very awkward, and then eventually hopefully just exceedingly happy and also proud of herself and confident. I listened to I’m Still Here from Treasure Planet a lot while writing Adiris. Like, a lot.

“Who do you think she gets along with most?”

Hmmm, well, Dwight and Quentin I think will always be special to her after the day in the temple. Claudette is a sweetie who will definitely try to help alleviate sickness symptoms and be maybe the single least afraid to touch her of all the survivors, and that can’t help but be meaningful. Meg & she have a lot of complimentary similar personality traits, Jeff is super kind & also a great artist so he’ll probably be group interpreter & she’ll be around him a lot, and since Tapp is 2 and 0 so far on drawing bullet barrel in friend luck Russian roulette and keeps befriending women with absentee fathers, I can only assume that means she will end up close with Tapp as well. It’s too funny for him not to be 3 & 0. The world itself demands it. Beyond that, I’d have to write interactions and see how they fall. 👈👈😎 (Also a large part of how she feels about Meg & maybe also Ace, possibly Nea too, maybe even Feng, will come down to how she feels about being flirted with shamelessly. F in the chat for my poor confused ancient Mesopotamian. 😔)

“Will she meet any other killers?”

Yes, definitely. And it will be very interesting to me to see that.

“Does the Entity’s realize she’s lying?”

No. It absolutely does not. Queen method acted hard enough to give herself trauma—the first person experience thoughts and narrative are what she lived, and luckily the Entity is an emotion sponge, not a mind reader. It may or may not have been aware Quentin & Dwight were in the room (legit just depends on if it decided to/thought to look, which I don’t know, because I didn’t need to to write the scene & it be like that sometimes, but regardless of if it did, the outcome is basically unchanged. Either it didn’t look because Adiris clearly wasn’t lying, from its POV, as she felt nothing but what she exhibited outwardly as well. Or it did look for them, saw they were under there, and thought nothing of it because it lined up with her story. She said they ran off. Wouldn’t be weird for them to go to the Archives to try to steal information, or hide, or even just get lost. And it had no reason to expose them if it did see, because if it had dragged them out, it would have had to do something Adiris would understand to them, and it’s really just easier to give itself time to figure out in what way to do its “Nergal the God” aftermath, than to do it right in the room on the spot. TLDR: No, it has no clue. She method acted the fuck out of that situation, and there was nothing weird to sense, so it didn’t. Queen out-bullshitted the Entity.

“Will you continue the story in any way?”

Harder question. Probably? Likely? Maybe? Hard to say. I would love to, but I also have four, five other stories right now? Ever since I made a dumb Fate joke about having four multipath AUs, my brain has been trying to convince me to adapt New Dawn Fades, From the Earth of No Return, and some fourth, as yet unchosen story, into full length monsters. But I might die. Like, y’all, ILM is a hunk of book. If I recall correctly from back when I saw my word count, got nervous, and looked stuff up, if I published a physical single volume copy of ILM, it would become the longest single volume book ever published in a physical single book form. Which I both kinda want to do now just for the knowledge of it, but also!!! That’s SO much, like, I don’t even know how that happened. Like I am immensely proud, but also kinda like wtf? Did I drug me?? And also mostly just because rip @ me that the longest work I have written is a fic I /can’t/ ever publish or include in a resume or reel or anything. :’-](Also, @ the speed readers who did ILM in under two weeks, HOW? And please teach me your absolutely terrifying powers). I don’t plan, even if I do full length stuff again, to make another ILM length one or something. But even then, full length is big! (Also I live in fear of saying this to myself, trying to write, and becoming:

Like u have no idea rip lol.) It takes a whole bunch of time to do books, and like, I do fic books because I love it! Like SO much. It has and does bring me great joy. But, it can get a liiiittle daunting too. It eats up most of my free time to all my free time, if I get super into it.

So yes, I would really like to adapt it further. I have the barest of bones for an outline, I even have two possible endings already envisioned and several major events more fleshed out! : D But if I do write more long-form full novels for DbD, even in more manageable sizes than their forebearer, I’d try to do them in the order I began. Which means Signifying Nothing—the prequel to ILM about Philip’s time with Vigo, Alex, & Benedict (which is a will do, not if), then New Dawn Fades (the ongoing fic I have on AO3 centered around Joey & Quentin’s relationship), then From the Earth of No Return. Which for the record, my soul very much wants to adapt. Every time I hear Brave Shine now, I see cool TV show opens for it in my head. TuT But I guess the best I can say is, “We’ll see”? Since fics aren’t like my paying job or smth, it depends largely on my personal & work life & how much time I have to devote to for-passion writing. So, I guess the short answer is I’d love to, and I hope to, I’d even say I think I intend to sometime, but I’m not completely certain I’ll be able.

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