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oncewhenalongtimeago · 3 months

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sorry but i think i lost your plot has to be peak literature because it's one of the only thing ive ever read from start to last update in under an hour

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 14

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 2,163

You get caught up in some hobbying.

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, crafting, bead making

Your relationship with the older vikings, men and women alike, as their sometimes delivery girl, sometimes shepard -though that was much less of a harrowing job now that the dragons were cool, and you were afforded the privilege of spend a lot less time hiding and running- sometimes portable laundromat and shiphand, afforded you certain knowledge that other people sometimes weren’t privy to, though Berk was an open floor for gossip.

Like how the twins were always looking down because their helmets were too shallow to balance themselves on their heads, which had the consequence of making it seem as if they were always up to something. Which, coincidentally, they were- Their mother complained about them a lot in between mentions of her husband and fawning over Stoick.

You learned how to cook some from Mrs. Ingerman, and you’d taught her a few words from your time period, which was nice.

You’d had to do Snotlout's laundry and clean his room on more than one occasion, even had to pull it out of his basement room more than once, which you were thoroughly disgusted by. You’d learned a lot more about the guy from that experience than you’d ever wanted and had refused to take any of the Jorgensons’ laundry from then onward.

You’d even done things for Hiccup and for the Chief, mostly things he was unaccustomed to doing as he was too busy acting as the leader of the village and things Hiccup missed because he was too busy doing whatever he did out with the riders. You were sure Hiccup’d had no idea just the same as Snotlout.

There were a few things you were certain to never bring up, including but not limited to a hastily drawn but very detailed sketch of your face shoved in a notebook tossed under his bed, not particularly helpful in terms of putting to rest the whole crush thing, or the small pail of screws he was sure to have brought back from the forge without his father’s blessing.

You were in denial a little bit, yeah.

You should probably tell him. About the whole being in his room thing. But you wouldn’t. Definitely not.

It seemed, though, that despite this extra eye into the working world of Berk, you’d still ended up missing a few things.

Berk was… A community. You weren’t sure how you never realized that.

The Great Hall was filled with warm laughter, people patting each other on the back, men and women sharing stories about their kids and, often enough for you to take notice, Hiccup. It looked like raising him was a group effort.

Off in the corner were others at a table by shallow baskets which were shaped like oblong gold pans filled with fine powder and shells, men and women sitting along the side sorting dragon scales and grinding them down with flat stones and clearly chiseled pestels.

Dragons squealed and bobbed around your periphery, tossing and picking up what must’ve been colorful, neutral stones.

Large men and women and children hunched over the tables all over the hall, rearranged so that they were all closer to each other, parallel as they whittled away at things you couldn’t completely see, tables lined with leaves and the occasional plate.

It was well lit.

People filled the halls between tables with joyful conversation, playfully batted at each other and sat back. The whole space was bustling and also relaxing, somehow.

In the background was Ack arguing with some blonde woman, but even that was nice. You could tell he didn’t mean it and neither did she, shooting back just barely inaudible jabs with each other.

You were mindful of the basket in your arms full up with his laundry, just recently cleaned and aired out.

You had stopped in your tracks at the sight, standing just before a short table placed perpendicular to the rest as if the lady sitting there was the guard to some booth or other.

You looked down finally, noticing how she looked at you nearly eye level with a raised brow. She had plenty of wrinkles on her forehead, which told a lot about a life made by concern and stoicism. She also wore a large, very off white apron over a grayish vaguely beige long sleeve short and a long brown skirt, which you only just barely caught sight of as she lifted it up to wipe down something in her hand.

She had a shallow basket in front of her filled with what looked like beads and various strings, needles and small carving knives with wood shavings laid on the cloth-covered table around her.

“Hi,” You said, breaking the wall between the two of you.

“...Hello, dear,” She responded, after a while, settling down her skirt and placing a colorful bead back into her basket. He picked up a needle instead, which you saw was already attached to a long string with beads all down the length.

You wondered where they’d gotten the dye for it. Could dye even be used on glass? Was it glass?

Instead of asking those questions, you shuffled your feet.

You glanced at a white sleeve flopped over the side of the basket, which you held by a bar on the other side and pressed into your hip, “What’s going on?”

“Crafting is going on,” She said, plainly.

You nodded, “I like it.”

It wasn’t an uncommon sight to see Vikings wandering around Berk, trying their hand at leatherworking and carving and other things. Now that they had the time, being assaulted a lot less by Dragons, the Berkians indulged their more artistic inclinations, exercising muscles for skills they’d never been able to before.

“I mean, this is great. What started it?” You asked.

You wanted to join in. It might be nice.

“Oh, you haven’t seen? The pride of Berk, walking around with his little bead like a bird,” She chortled fondly, “Did you see it? I wonder who gave it to him? Lucky girl. He has, dare I say it, started a trend.”

A bird? You quirked your lips up at what was most certainly an exaggeration. You hadn’t seen anything like that. You failed to mention that you’re the one who made it.

You wondered if Hiccup knew about any of this at all. You didn’t.

“How do you know it was a girl?”

You turned. The spoken voice belonged to one of the women you’d see before in the Hall. She came over, done fussing with Ack in the background.

She was also blonde, a brighter, more yellow shade with a few less gray hairs. And she was large, also, with broad shoulders and a strong presence. Her arms were the largest between them.

She wore tight trousers and a large though not long tunic. Her boots were plain leather and looked to be of the pirate variety.

You pondered the idea that they might be related, or at least good friends.

“Look at him!” The first lady put down her needle, resting it in her shallow basket again, a glass bead falling down the string as she did, gesturing with her hand, though there was no Hiccup in sight, “He’s so happy! So proud! The small thing. He’s got too much energy for his little bones to handle.”

You thought he might be offended if he heard her say that.

“Oh, don’t be delusional,” The one with big arms huffed, “And don’t let him hear you say that.”

“But I’m right!”

“You’re wrong! He’s no myth, sweetheart. You can’t go around treating him like one of your little stories,” She shook her head, crossing her arms.

“The Ragnar is real!” She insisted, staring down the Ack lady, meeting her eyes until the other woman rolled her own. You could tell it was a disagreement as old as time itself, but like with the other woman’s squabble with Ack, there was no malice in it, “Beowulf, too.”

They were just putting on a show.

You felt your lips stretch wider. It felt good to be a part of, even as a witness.

“Well, anyways, I’ve been thinking of making it a regular thing. You know, putting it on a schedule. Craft nights…”

You nodded excitedly, “It’s very modern.”

“Do you think so?” She asked, pleased.

“You don’t think we’ll have better things to be doing?”

“Our ancestors used to do it, can’t see why we can’t.”

“Really?” You asked.

“Oh, yes. Read a passage about it once, saw a note or something like in one of the dragon books. Glass beadmaking,” She looked up wistfully, pausing briefly in her rhythmic sewing, “I always wanted to try it… But we had no forge, no beads, no time, then, either. I was just a little girl. But now…!”

She picked something small but shiny out of the basket in her lap, ooh-ing to herself.

You were on the outside, kind of, though not on purpose. Everyone was welcoming enough, though they were much too busy fighting with the dragons to notice much or throw a party or anything. You were never excluded but you always had better things to do, too, so, well.

But this was here, and it seemed convenient.

“Dear, come sit down,” She squealed slyly, voice both quick and dragging, face gleeful, which seemed out of place on her wide, bult frame and stern face.

“Okay,” You said, beaming.

You stuck mostly to the woodworking bead types.

The image of glass beads shattering midair was frightening, though you were sure that none of the dragons around here could reach those speeds. Flying that fast might be dangerous for people too.

Most of your beads were probably going back to Hiccup anyways.

Of course, you had your own handful of small colorful semi-porcelain.

You tried a bunch of colors of all different types, and ended up with a handful of each. It was cool, to the super-so degree, and it was free. It seemed good will did a lot, and community bonding exercises were meant to be just that and nothing else. There was a line of Vikings, adults and children alike, ready to do their own part and bring things in anyhow.

Many Vikings used ground up dragonhide to dye and waterproof beads and to mix in with melted glass in order to give it a pretty stain.

It was interesting, especially now that many Vikings were using Dragons in place of a kiln, and how they’d set up small buildings with bricks and some coal and used those too.

It was disastrous, at some moments. There were many burns, mostly small, that people went up to Gothi for, saying their goodbyes in bummed tones.

Gothi must have had enough of it because she came down eventually to manage the glassmakers and smack the unfortunate.

It was… nice.

The afternoon light was surprisingly nice on your face. It felt a lot nicer and your chest felt lighter, the world awash with things bright and endearing.

You looked forward with a winning smile at Hiccup.

“You liked the one I gave you, right?” You held out a handful of blue glass and wood beads to Hiccup, “They’re doing craft days in the Hall. I made some.”

You had a bunch of others in pouches around your belt.

You didn’t have anywhere to put them besides. You had no dragon to ride, so in time you might favor the glass ones. You had trouble with a few of them. The dragonhide did a great deal to make the glass more sticky when it heated up.

“You’re going to see a lot more people around with beads on.”

There were not enough leaves and pouches for all your sorted beads so they were sort of mixed, but you got a hold of a good few before it was time to clean up and you fled before anyone could notice. The hall would still be active for a while.

“You started a trend, I think,” You said, matter-of-factly.

It was impressive. Trends usually fell to the Chief, who recently had been trying to approach you though he always got carried away by tasks before he could.

Hiccup had a sort of goofy smile on his face which consisted of a slightly upturned lip and the framing of his two largest front teeth which dropped as, as it looked like, he snapped back into himself, “What?”

“Yeah,” You said after you finished unloading the rest of his pouches into his arms and turned to walk away.

You looked around as you fled, making sure no one was watching.

He looked down like he wasn’t sure what to do with all of them, and also a little bit put off.

You wondered if you overdid it.

A small weight shifted by your ankle as you walked, the coins you’d slipped into a side pocket in your boot. You were going to ask around for some seeds.

#thank you #hope you enjoy #httyd #how to train your dragon #hiccup x reader #httyd x reader #fem reader #hiccup horrendous haddock III #hiccup haddock #x reader

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a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire · 4 months

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Okay, second post, this ones mostly about Feyre because honestly, as of chapter 3 I havent really noticed Tamlin being out of character and from what Ive heard his character assassination was supposed to happen very quickly. Idk, right now he just seems like the same guy but traumatized although I'll fully admit that I didnt care that much for him outside of the Feylin romance (which was pretty sweet but too boring for me) so maybe I just didnt pay enough attention to him to fully grasp his character

Feyre is frustrating to me right now because I dont think shes out of character either, right now shes also just the same woman but traumatized, but like, I already know the extent to which her character will be bent for the sake of Rhysand. In these first three chapters she literally thinks something along the lines of "What's there for me to do but sit at home and spend Tamlin's money" Tell me, what does she end up doing in the night court huh????

Another thing thats frustrating is that Feyre clearly has issues communicating her feelings and wants, I know because I also had issues with that, and instead of learning that very valuable skill of telling others about your inner world and trying to work on her relationships (with both Tamlin and with her sisters), shes just gonna end up with a guy who can read her mind so theres no need for her to challenge herself and grow in any way. Yay. One thing especially stuck out to me in this regard was her attituide towards wearing dresses. Feyre does not like wearing dresses, its not like she never got to wear them back at home even though she wanted to, she just doesnt like wearing them in her day-to-day life, but she feels like she has to because she thinks its what Tamlin wants and because she thinks that if she wears pants its gonna somehow signal to the citizens of the spring court that something is incredibly wrong. But again, she doesnt tell anyone this, she doesnt ask Tamlin if he can just explain to everyone that everything is fine and that Feyre just has an unconventional way of dressing, which he would probably be fine with if its still the same guy from the first book. And it doesnt even seem like Tamlin directly made any kind of comment to her about the dresses she wears, she just saw that he was happy when he saw her wear them, which couldve well been him being happy to see her in general but she doesnt even consider that

Theres also the fact that its very unclear what she wants/what her problem is. Now, this actually isnt something that bothers me that much on its own, Feyre is traumatized and lost, obviously she doesnt know exactly what she wants at this point beyond "the situation Im in sucks and makes me feels bad, I want to get out", I think what bothers me is mostly the knowledge that Tamlin is gonna get blamed for a lot of this stuff when its really not his fault.

And I do want to make it clear that I dont think hes doing a great job handling this situation, I know a lot of people in the acotar critical sphere find his actions understandable and justifiable from his perspective and thats true, but hes still doing a bad job handling Feyre's emotional state. Like, one of your beloved's main issues is that she feels horrible because she feels trapped at home, for the love of god just let her go outside on her own. Maybe send her to village thats far inland or close to the border to the mortal realm, surely those monsters are not gonna manage to come that far if youre all going on patrols to kill them as soon as possible. And even if they do, the people of any village are gonna bend over backwards in order to protect their capital c Cursebreaker, shes gonna be fine

But, to get back to my original point, even if Tamlin was a daemati or whatever like Rhys and could read her mind the way she needs it to be read, he would still not be able to figure out what exactly Feyre needs right now because she doesnt know it herself! I literally read all of her thoughts and I dont know! Does she want to help others and be responsible for a whole bunch of people because its what shes always known to do? Does she want to avoid resonsibility for now because she wants to recover from her traumatic childhood of having the responsibility of keeping her family alive on top of all the new UTM-trauma? Its hard to say and that makes sense for Feyre at this point in her life, but she cant just blame people for not understanding her when she doesnt properly understand herself and refuses tl verbalize her feelings

Anyway, thats it for today, hope you enjoyed this

#anti acomaf #anti sjm #anti feysand #feyre critical #tamlin critical #flames and darkness liveblog

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princess-of-thebes-1995 · 2 years

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Kingdom of Heaven ( King Baldwin Iv x Reader x Tiberias)

Chapter One: Long Live the King

Calpurnia sneered in triumph as men wearing strange uniforms marched to your hut with metal armory and battle horses.

Oh, how Calpurnia hated you!

You were known by your beauty and she was jealous of you. You also had the talent of cooking and gardening despite never once attending the village class after the mid morning meal.

Despite being uneducated, you had more common knowledge than most people in the mountains.

No matter, how did you manage to grab the attention to be the bride of King Baldwin the fourth? The ruler of the Holy Kingdom of Jerusalem!

Grinning, Calpurnia watched you carry a small bag of your belongings and sit down on the hump seat of a strange animal.

The King was rumored to be a sickly and ugly man. Maybe it was your punishment you were to be chained to a deformed beast.

Good Riddance, Harlot. Calpurnia turned around and walked away.

You tried not to let tears run down your lovely shaped cheekbones. Your father did not agree to this. The headman threatened that your elderly father would accept the proposal.

The King stated in the letter he was to give the village a dowry of oil, flour, rice, and sheep wool in exchange for your hand. Every year continuously.

The village did not treat your family kindly. Your father suffered from mental illness which caused him mood swings and memories of his traumatic childhood would interrupt his efforts at work. Causing you to be born to poverty. Which was why your mother died due to the lack of money for her throat. She coughed blood till she passed away.

So, you and your father were the ostracized duo in the whole mountains. No one would invite you to a festival or party. Your friends were farm animals. And you could not afford to attend class. Not even to read and write.

Until your eleventh season, a kindly nun who began to visit your humble hut and read fables. You loved literature. Math and science were interesting. Especially planets and stars. But, your favorite was “fantasy” “imagination”. You were taught the word “realism”. You hated reality. Too boring and harsh. Fiction was your life.

The stories of a Princess or Maiden marrying a man she loved first put chills down your spine and made your ripe young body experience wetness “down there.”

Love. No one you heard married for that reason. Arrange marriage due to wealth, family alliance and other reasons. Never love.

Here you were, back to square one. Marrying a King who was rumored to be ugly due to a disease. You did not know what Leprosy was due to being uneducated. But, judging by how bad it sounded. It must have been a rare curse of God.

Your father walked out of the hut with his cane and limped over to the strange animal you sat on. He gave you your favorite flower. Anemone. Black eye in the center with dark burgundy petals.

Your father kissed your hand before the leader of the men ordered the leave.

King Baldwin the Fourth was staring at the moon from his balcony. He was growing impatient for your caravan to arrive at his Kingdom. With Tiberias to protect you, he knew you would come back in peace.

Still, his heart was aching for you to come home. The spy he sent to look at you reported your impoverished life and your mistreatment from the community. How you were ostracized due to the jealousy of your beauty.

Anger consumed the gentle King’s heart. The life you lived so far despite being young of seasons must have made you feel old already. That will have to change.

His thoughts were interrupted when the pitter patter of small footsteps ran inside his royal quarters.

“Uncle!” A beautiful blonde boy with dark oceanic eyes grinned with love announced in a tone of excitement.

Baldwin smiled behind his silver mask. He held open his arms. “My sweet Nephew.”

The boy did not hesitate to be engulfed in his uncle’s embrace.

Baldwin led the boy to the bed and made him sit on his lap.

“Uncle, Mamma said you are to marry.”

The King nodded and used his bandaged right hand to stroke the boy’s fair locks. “It’s true. I found my soulmate.”

“Why an outsider?” The boy frowned.

The King chuckled. “Love is love. No matter who it is. Age, race, and other descriptions will never be superior to holy feelings God bestows on you.”

The boy looked confused. Instead, Baldwin nodded. “You will understand when you become a man.”

Everyone who was not a guard was asleep. All but one. King Baldwin laid on his bed and the words of his nephew repeated in the brain of the intelligent ruler. Why an outsider?

Baldwin grinned. He remembered when he saw you. A year ago. He dressed as a commoner and with Tiberias and Balian, went to (Country) to trade some salt for vegetables from the fertile and lush mountain village.

The King hid his identity and booked himself a room at an inn to rest. Balian and Tiberias decided to do some sight seeing. Leaving the sickly man all alone.

Or so he thought.

The King forgot he ordered his dinner on a tray to be delivered to his room. But, Baldwin was about to sleep.

Someone came to his room and Baldwin did not bother to get up. He assumed the servant would place his dinner down and leave. But, that did not happen.

The King was confused; he felt the presence of a person looking over his form. A lot of people in Jerusalem would stare at him due to his mask. He assumed that was the reason. But, he smelled something. Rose water, infant powder, and vanilla oil. The servant was a female.

Baldwin opened his eyelids a little but was shocked when he felt something wet, fat, plump, and soft against his hollow and gnarled mouth. He was being kissed!

Baldwin opened his eyes fully in shock but he saw a glimpse of the most beautiful creature he had ever seen running away from him. Not only was she beautiful. Even for a human, the dolls, art of angels and Goddesses he had seen did not compare to you.

Were you a dream?

Since then, he used his sources of men to find out that a girl named (Name) who was only fourteen kissed the King of the Holy City.

You were only one year away from legally being a wife.

He had to have you.

You kissed a leper and did not care. He felt the lust radiating from your body transforming to him with your lips as a bridge. Baldwin assumed he was the ugliest creature alive and no woman wanted him. But, you touched him lovingly. As if you were lonely and yearning just as much as he was.

He had to be yours.

God answered his prayers. Baldwin was not only given a woman but an Angel. All the years he suffered from loneliness and being ridiculed and laughed by women paid off. He felt blessed.

He wanted to reward you. Baldwin would treat you like the Glass Princess you were and all your sexual fantasies will be realized with his help. As a token of his gratitude.

#kingdom of heaven #king baldwin #king baldwin iv #king baldwin x reader #tiberias

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godfreygwilym · 10 months

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some notes on how i've been running the brides

when i first set out to dm cos, one of the first things i was really determined to do was give them more in-depth backstories, since— with the exception of escher getting like one paragraph lol— they're basically just. creepy dolls. which i GUESS works with gothic horror but man i would really like to have female characters with personalities!!!!

*combination of my own interpretation as well as concepts ive integrated from other dms, so if you recognize something specific i probably got it from elsewhere

ludmilla vilisevic

physically in her mid-30s, and is aged roughly 230. i play her with an rp english accent, although in my mind she has a nigerian affect. she is very poised and calculating, and always tries to be the one in control of any situation. has a talent for shadow magic, and her own sentient shadow is the closest she has to a best friend. she also has a barn owl familiar named amicus and a cat named eupraxia. when she takes a human disguise, she goes by the name of filena voltanescu.

before ludmilla married strahd, her name was lumina. she is a wizard apprentice who was lost in the mists and stumbled into barovia. naturally very curious, brave and shrewd, she marched up to ravenloft despite all the warnings. her and strahd ended up having a very romantic relationship (despite lowkey reflags from strahd the whole time lol) for a long time since there had been a long spell of no tatyana reincarnation, although they eventually began to fall apart, partially spurred by her feelings of isolation and longing for her family outside of barovia.

at the point that cos takes place, ludmilla is very distant from strahd and is really only going through the motions/trying to stay useful, though she is determined to remain a step above his other partners in terms of superiority. she spends a great deal of her time researching and experimenting on mostly-unwilling test subjects (she is well aware at this point that what she is doing is cruel, but after two centuries she's become rather indifferent). she's very fascinated by the abbot's work.

in my game, strahd has given her emil toranescu, who is imprisoned in tsolenka pass. she is working on developing a method to transfer souls from one body to another— in my game, ismark is the true reincarnation of tatyana, and ireena merely looks like her.

anastrasya "anya" karelova

physically in her early 30s, anya is just over a century old. barovian accent, and extremely flamboyant and charismatic, she loves being the centre of attention. she has a natural talent for communicating with ghosts, who are often her captive audience. not much combat skill beyond what abilities she has as a vampire, but she has a wicked skill for charming people. in human disguise, she goes by ekaterina bogdana.

anya is from minor vallakian nobility, which comes with all the trappings of petty inter-family squabbles. she has had a terribly unfortunate string of bad luck with marriages, all of her betrotheds have met poor fates or ran off. on a fourth attempt, her parents arranged for her to be married to an older landowner who she did not care for at all.

while she was engaged, anya ran into ludmilla (in human disguise) by chance. they grew close quickly and began having an affair. eventually, ludmilla introduced her to strahd, and she was instantly enamoured. before the wedding, anastrasya's betrothed "mysteriously" died, and she was whisked away to ravenloft. at this point, ludmilla and strahd's relationship was very cold, and he became preoccupied with anya.

volenta popofska

physically in her mid-20s, and is about 65 years old. barovian, and has a very floaty and whimsical way of speaking, though very soft spoken and rather self conscious. she often comes off as eerie. her vampiric abilities are amplified, making her a very good rogue/assassin. in "human" disguise, she is called violet spivakhofska.

volenta is a tiefling who was born in a small fishing village on lake zarovich. her parents did not want her, and so she was raised by the village elder. when she passed away when volenta was a teenager, she no longer had any protection from the animosity of the villagers, so she fled. eventually she was picked up by a small group of bandits, who would've attacked her, but she convinced them to let her join.

she bounced around various groups of bandits and thieves for several years, finding a place but never truly fitting in. after one traumatic rejection, she went to ravenloft in search of strahd, who she had heard stories of since she was a child, and had often wished would come and take her away. to volenta's joy, strahd took a liking to her and made her his bride.

even still, volenta is an outcast due to her awkward and sometimes unsettling behaviour and knack for the macabre. strahd enjoys her, but does little to try and ingratiate her with his other partners, and so she remains self-conscious and eager to win his favour.

escher gerst

physically in his late twenties, escher has been a vampire for just over a decade. i play him with a german accent. he is usually very distant and melancholy, though he becomes much more playful when not around strahd. a bard by trade, as a vampire he discovers a natural aptitude for shapeshifting, spurred by a bit of neuroticism over not being able to see his own reflection. in human disguise, he goes by claudius belasco.

escher is also from outside the mists, the son of poor farmers who ran off to join a bard troupe. he loves stories and music, and has a knack for various instruments, but particularly enjoys the lute and the violin— strahd has gifted him two exquisite models. his troupe was caught in the mists, and unbeknownst to him, strahd began spying on them. outside the village of barovia in the svalich woods, strange orchestrated a wolf attack on the group, sparing escher so that he could swoop in and save him. when escher awoke in a plush bed in ravenloft, he became deeply enamoured with strahd, who he saw as a fairytale prince. they had a very passionate relationship with strahd lavishing many gifts on escher before convincing him to let him turn him into a vampire.

despite not being together long, however, strahd has quickly become rather bored of escher's antics, who became desperate to stay in his good graces to avoid being sealed into the crypts. after the revolt in the village of barovia, strahd took doru as a vampire spawn. escher and him would have been close friends, if escher wasn't so deeply self-conscious and paranoid over his own status. eventually, he convinced strahd to starve doru to the point of madness and return him to his father at the church. escher would feel guilty over this, were he not so deeply concerned over his own self-preservation.

also due to strahd's coldness toward him, escher developed a fascination with vallaki, where he often goes in human disguise. here, he took a human lover, a painter named anton. anton became involved with the feast of saint andral, when escher gave him a bag (secretly containing the bones) and had him deliver it to the coffin shop. during the chaos of the feast, unfortunately, strahd had anton killed— escher beseeched the party to bury him properly and behead him so he would not return as a vampire spawn.

#curse of strahd #my stuff #i will probably have to edit this later Lol unfortunately trying to edit on tumblr mobile is like scraping plastic off a frying pan #also one of my players wrote a very wonderful ludmilla/strahd story that i hope they'll publish on ao3 #ive also written a ~5k drabble about escher and started two for anya and volenta that i have not finished #anyway overall i hope it's quite clear that the brides are all indivuals who are very lonely/crave affection and fear punishment which #informs a lot of their behaviour

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artisanoftheredscience · 4 months

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A PAGE FROM SLOWCAKES

[Editor's Note: Credit to Brightgoat and their maker "Bright's Piccrew Hell" for the image. ID in alt text.]

NAME: Detective Peculiar [Editor's Note: Peculiar is a known alias- her real name is unknown, and likely never will be revealed.]

DOB: February 22nd, 1854

Age: 40-47 years old. [Editor's Note: Peculiar's age is 47 in the current edition, with 40 being her age upon her first appearance in the Neath.]

KNOWN ALIASES: The Indefatigable Detective, The Triumphant Director (Editor's Note: Only used in recent years, circa 1899 (the first one).

PRONOUNS: She/Her.

PROFESSION: Private Detective, Co-Director of the Great Hellbound Railway Board.

BACKSTORY (PRE-NEATH):

Peculiar was born on the Surface, in a small village, one so small that it's scarcely recorded on maps. She lived with her parents and sisters in a small home; her parents were well respected members of the community, and they helped their neighbors constantly. Her family grew food and raised chickens, and their life on the countryside was peaceful. Peculiar's sisters were her dearest friends, and the three of them were inseparable well into adulthood.

Peculiar had a gift for observation since she was quite young; by the time she was an adult, she'd already gained a bit of a reputation for solving mysteries and fixing problems with said skills. Those eventually led her into her work as a private investigator. It took a lot of effort and time to gain respect in that field, but she soon became known for being the person to call for problems you couldn't take to the cops. It was on one such occasion that she met Alcyone.

Alcyone was the love of her life, and the two were madly in love. Eventually Alcyone moved from her parents' home to live with Peculiar in a small home Peculiar's father had built them. Though they could never been openly in a relationship, they were very happy together. Peculiar's family loved Alcyone, and she became a strong member of their community. Peculiar split her time between her detective work and staying at home, helping Alcyone with her art and spending time with her sisters. They were the best twenty years of Peculiar's life, and Peculiar cherished those days.

Then, after a particularly difficult case, Peculiar came home to find Alcyone dead in their shared home. The only memento left behind was a flower she did not recognize. The grief that display inflicted upon her was unimaginable. In a single night, Peculiar had lost everything. And so she gathered her belongings, and left home, chasing after the person who ruined her life.

With any luck, they would not walk away unpunished.

NOTABLE ASSOCIATES:

Dr. Stone: Peculiar's dearest friend and co-director of the Great Hellbound Railway. She absolutely loves that man, and the pair are inseparable. She'd kill for him, if he asked her to. He wouldn't, but she'd do it. He helped her with finishing off Alcyone's killer, and she greatly appreciated it.

Ms. Deidamia: Peculiar's deviless girlfriend, who she only starts dating Post-Ambition. She loves her very dearly and the pair are unstoppable when they work together. Deidamia is much deeper in the Great Game than she is, and Peculiar loves helping her with her work.

Lady Spring Lovelace: A work partner of Peculiar's. They get along well, though not as well as she and Stone do. They mostly work together when it comes to matters of Hell and the Great Game.

Ms. Kendrick Starlee: Peculiar's right-hand lady and best friend. She takes Kendrick on case-work, and in exchange Kendrick makes her go to performances with her. They're good friends.

Professor Ellison Arrow: Colleagues at the University. They work on projects with one another. Peculiar has a healthy respect for him.

Liz(ard) O'Connor: She and Liz are good friends. She sometimes work with him when she needs someone not afraid to get their hands dirty. Liz enjoys helping her, as long as he gets to get into a fight about it.

Mr. Ives Walters: The GHBRB's accountant. Peculiar works closely with him often. She kind of sees him like a weird little cousin. Ives just wants to go home most of the time.

Professor Marilyn: A Professor from the University that works with Peculiar on matters of the Correspondence. Peculiar found her when she crashed her boat off the coast of Venderbight and brought her home. The two of them get on like a house on fire.

Professor Oliver Sing-Reid: A colleague from the University. She only works with him when she needs help with inter-department shenanigans. They like to bitch about the Provost together.

AMBITION NOTES: [Editor's Notes: Content Warnings for Death, Violence, Substance Use, and Grieving. MAJOR AMBITION: NEMESIS SPOILERS AHEAD.]

Peculiar's grieving caused her to do a lot of things she'd come to regret. Losing Alcyone destroyed her, and she often fell into periods of deep depression because of it.

It takes her five years to complete Nemesis, a good chunk of which is devoted to Knifegate. Fucking Knifegate.

Peculiar chooses to murder Scathewick, but it's a decision that she regrets. It wasn't one she would have chosen in a better headspace, and it causes her long-term mental health issues.

Peculiar lost her eye in a confrontation on the Surface with a contact of Scathewick's. As such, her vision suffers terribly and she has had to completely readjust to most things.

Peculiar's experiences with Gaoler's Honey cause her to have extreme reactions to regular Honey. She swore off it entirely in the time that followed. She still had deep cravings for the Red Stuff, a fact which causes her much grief. She feels deeply guilty about the whole thing.

She chooses not to spare Mr. Cups, to make truly sure that no one else would suffer what she did. This she does not regret.

She keeps the knife that killed her wife in a locked box, promising to only open it again if she absolutely had to. She had never opened it.

EXTRA INFORMATION:

Peculiar originally only joined the railway to prevent it from ending up entirely controlled by the Bazaar, but it's become her passion project.

She does absolutely deranged things if she thinks it'll help with a case or mission and she's not afraid to get her hands dirty.

She prefers to be kind and merciful when given the chance, but if you insist on being a problem she will be a problem solver!

Peculiar seems like the 'straight man' or the serious 'girlboss' archetype for about five seconds before you actually talk to her. She's actually just as weird as all her friends.

She has a 'dry' sense of humor…. if you don't know her well enough to know what her tells are.

Peculiar left a letter for her parents explaining why she left, but she didn't tell them where she was going. She didn't want to drag them down with her. Unfortunately for her, they are persistent as hell.

Peculiar has 2 sisters: her younger sister, Mauve, and her older sister Lorenza.

Peculiar absolutely adores chickens. They're her favorite animal.

Peculiar has adjusted fairly well to the damaged eyesight, but often struggles with distance-gauging and needs glasses to read.

#fallen london #ambition: nemesis #ambition: nemesis spoilers #fallen london spoilers #fallen london ocs #ocposting #violence tw #substance use tw

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honeymoonfemme · 1 year

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Part IV - To Slay a Dragon || Catradora

ao3 link to come when entire work is posted

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

Rated M

Tags: alternative universe - magical kingdom, angst, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, getting together, happy ending, kissing, mild violence, ooc Micah, Adora is a knight, Scorpia is a dragon

Once upon a time in the far away kingdom of Bright Moon, a brave knight is given a quest: to rescue a maiden and slay a dragon. But how can Adora rescue someone who doesn't want to be saved?

1485 words

Weary and covered in filth and sweat, the group limped into the village. Night had fallen, but the villagers were dancing and singing around a large campfire in the centre of the clearing. Adora’s stomach rumbled. She hoped the village could spare some leftover food for them.

“Welcome, travellers.” A tall woman greeted them. She had brown skin and blonde hair, and wore a pink and green dress that draped over her like petals on a flower. “My name is Perfuma. What is your business with our village?”

“Me and my companions need a place to rest for the night,” Adora said. “The King told me this village would be accommodating.”

A spark of recognition appeared in Perfuma’s eye. “You must be a knight of Bright Moon. And you must be the Princess Glimmer. I’m not sure about you,” she said to Bow. “But you are all welcome here. Please, come and rest by the fire. I will get my sister to prepare some tents for you.”

The trio squeezed onto the end of a log facing the campfire. Adora took off her armour and massaged the knots in her muscles.

“Stew?” A man with a large moustache and an apron ladled some into a bowl for her. Adora thanked him and tried it. It was nice and hot, with a rich, meaty flavour. As she ate, the stew warmed her from the inside out. She’d almost finished the bowl before Glimmer and Bow had been served.

“So, you’re from Bright Moon? News travels fast here. I myself have sailed to Bright Moon many a time, back in the day.”

“You’re a sailor?”

“A captain.” The man brandished the ladle. “Captain Sea Hawk!”

“Are you harassing our guests?” A woman with long black hair walked up to them. “I’m Mermista. It’s, like, cool to meet you. Or whatever.”

“My darling Mermista.” Sea Hawk tried to snake an arm around her waist, but she evaded him. “I was just talking to them.”

“Do you by any chance have some more of that stew?” Adora asked. Sea Hawk refilled her bowl.

“You’re the Bright Moon visitors.” Mermista wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like it there. Too many people.”

“We’re on a quest,” Bow said through a mouthful of stew.

“A quest? Do people still do those?”

“We’re going to slay a dragon.”

“I’m going to slay a dragon,” Adora corrected. “The actual quest is to rescue a maiden. The dragon will only be slayed if necessary.”

“A ‘maiden’? Wait, are you talking about Catra?”

“Catra! A veritable beast in her own right,” said Sea Hawk.

Adora was confused. “You know this maiden?”

“Catra used to live here,” Perfuma said, joining them. “We tried to welcome her into our community, but she made things, well, difficult.”

“She was a bitch.”

“Mermista.” Perfuma tutted. “I don’t think Catra liked us very much. She never adopted our peaceful, harmonious ways. Then one day she just disappeared. We thought she’d chosen to leave our village, but then we hear that a dragon has taken her and… I just feel horrible.” Tears welled up in Perfuma’s eyes. “Poor Catra, alone with a dragon. She must think we abandoned her.”

Mermista patted her sister’s back. “I keep saying to you, Catra isn’t thinking about us at all. If she’s still alive, that is.”

Perfuma sobbed harder.

“So… that dragon is a piece of work, eh? Remember that time it burned down my ship?” Sea Hawk said.

“You burned down your own ship,” Mermista said.

“No, that was a different ship.”

“Tell me more about Catra.” Something about this distressing damsel intrigued Adora.

“Ugh, what more do you want to know?”

“Why didn’t you get along with her?”

“There was that time she ripped up my flower beds.” Perfuma sniffed. “She told me she thought they were weeds.”

“She told me I wasn’t a real captain. She said real captains don’t burn down their ships.”

“She just had really bad vibes.”

“Catra sounds really mean,” Glimmer interjected. “Why even bother rescuing her?”

“Because she is a citizen of Bright Moon,” Adora said, affronted. “You can’t just not rescue someone because you don’t like them.”

“The dragon also has bad vibes,” Mermista added. “Did we tell you about the time it barbequed our sheep? If I had to compare whose vibes are worse, I’d have to go with the dragon. But it’s a close call.”

“Maybe Catra was just misunderstood,” Adora ventured. She stared into the dancing yellow flames of the fire. It was hard to believe anyone could be that nasty for no good reason.

“Oh no, she always made sure we understood exactly what she was thinking,” Sea Hawk said. “She never wasted an opportunity to tell me how stupid she thought my moustache was.”

“It is a stupid moustache,” said Mermista.

“Ouch. You do wound me, my love.”

“Does Catra have any family here? Anyone who might know her better?”

The three villagers exchanged looks. “Catra arrived here on her own,” Perfuma said. “We’re the only ones here who tried to get to know her.”

Adora got the feeling there was something they weren’t telling her, but she didn’t want to jeopardise the hospitality of her hosts. The only way to find out was to bypass the dragon, march into the abandoned castle, and ask Catra herself.

Bow yawned loudly. “Is our tent ready? I’m already falling asleep by the fire.”

“It’s ready.” Mermista showed them to the tent. It was a standard A-frame tent constructed out of thick canvas and rope. “It’s not really meant for three people so it might be a tight fit. I guess that’ll be your problem.”

Glimmer and Bow eagerly crawled inside. Adora peaked through the flap to make sure they weren’t doing anything untoward, but they were both out like a light. They’d left a space on the right for Adora, which touched her. She whispered ‘goodnight’ before heading back with Mermista.

Perfuma was putting out the fire, which sent thick plumes of smoke and steam into the air.

“Can I discuss something with you?” She asked the two sisters.

“Of course,” Perfuma said.

“I’m going to leave very early tomorrow morning. While the Princess and Bow are asleep.”

“So you’re going to leave without them?”

“It’s far too dangerous. King Micah will have my head if his daughter gets hurt. And I’m sure Bow’s fathers will be next in line.” A pause. “And I don’t want them to get hurt. They almost did today and it was terrifying. A dragon isn’t something to mess around with.”

“It’s okay.” Perfuma laid a hand on her arm. “We understand. We will make sure that Bow and Glimmer don’t follow you.”

“I mean, we could tie them up to stop them from escaping. Y’know, if you want us to,” Mermista said, sounding completely serious.

“Hopefully that won’t be necessary. Just please look after them until I get back.” She swallowed thickly. If I get back.

“We will look after them, I promise.” Perfuma smiled, the moonlight reflecting off her pale blonde hair. “For now, you really should get some sleep. You’ll be safe here overnight.”

Adora was walking back to the tent when a bony hand grabbed her and pulled her into an ivy-covered shack. Inside, the surfaces were covered in lit candles, which allowed her to see her captor. It was an old woman with wild lilac hair and round glasses that magnified her eyes.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?”

“I am Razz. And you are She-ra.” The woman pointed a shaky finger at Adora, the bangles on her wrist clinking together.

“No, I’m Adora. I don’t think we’ve met.”

“We’ve met,” Razz said. “In another lifetime.”

This poor woman was old and probably half mad. She had to be mistaking Adora for someone else. “Who is this ‘She-ra’?”

“The key to the lock. The answer to the question. The one we’ve all been waiting for. She will fulfil the prophecy.”

“Prophecy? What prophecy?”

Razz began to recite what sounded like an ancient riddle. “When day turns to night, and when friend turns to foe, She-ra will return to restore balance to a fractured and unstable world.”

“But the thing is, I’m not She-ra. I’m Adora. A-D-O-R-A. And I don’t know how to restore balance to anything.”

“She-ra knows. Trust She-ra.”

“But who is She-ra?”

Razz picked up a broomstick and used it to shoo Adora out of her house. “Trust She-ra. She-ra is the key. Trust She-ra.”

Thoroughly rattled, Adora climbed into the tent and laid down next to Bow and Glimmer, thoughts of She-ra and Razz swimming in her head. It had to just be the deluded musings of an old woman. There was no way Adora was involved in an actual prophecy. She double-checked the knife in her boot—just in case—and let Bow’s soft snores lull her to sleep.

#catradora #catra #adora #she-ra #she ra and the princesses of power #spop #glimmer #bow #mermista #perfuma #sea hawk #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #spop fanfic #lesbian #wlw #wlw fanfic

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ispravahomes · 1 year

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Fertile Ground | Isprava Blog

“Goa’s coolest bar owners, designers and artists tell us why the sunshine state is an oasis for creative minds.” Jasreen Mayal Khanna

It’s a truth universally acknowledged that every place needs a strong band of creatives individuals who not only take inspiration from their surroundings but also bring new ideas and perspectives to them. With its gorgeous beaches, tropical hideaways and susegadled pace, Goa has long been a mecca for thinkers, artists, writers and designers. And in the past two years, as the pandemic has led to a further influx of those looking for less mundane and more inspired living, this community has only grown in spades.

For this Isprava Insider Volume IV issue, we’ve rounded up the coolest creative minds, some born-and-bred Goans, others part-time residents and full-time entrepreneurs who have found their home and have built a community that supports their pursuits. These are designers, genius chefs, brilliant mixologists and more, who are changing the design, culture and dining scene in Goa.

And who better than these folks to give you some Goa intel? From foraging in forests to international film festivals and feni distillery tours, these insiders reveal their favourite experiences that will show you a hidden side to this eternally golden destination.

ANJALI MODY FOUNDER & CREATIVE HEAD OF JOSMO STUDIO

Mody spent a part of her childhood in Goa but moved here permanently at the age of 31, when she and her husband wanted a slower pace of life and found Goa to be the perfect place to foster their personal and professional growth. She launched Josmo Studio soon after, and today, she runs Goa’s premier furniture studio with 85 employees, a 6,000sqft store and a 30,000sqft manufacturing facility. She currently resides in her family home in Nerul with her husband and twin babies. “When I lived in Mumbai, the pace of the city had control over me, but here it’s the opposite,” she says, despite still working 12 hour days through the week. She takes regular breaks, sometimes heading to the beach in the middle of the week, while on other days she switches off her phone. “Goa is grounded in the elements and we’re lucky to be surrounded by beaches, forests and waterfalls,” says Mody. “I always envisioned bringing up my kids around nature and trees and mud, close to the earth. Goa did that for me and I hope it does the same for my kids.”

Her Goa: Mody’s newly-revamped store in Porvorim has something for every home. She recommends trekking to old Goa to see the ruins and old churches, as well as to the waterfalls which flourish in the rainy season. “Adventure seekers should explore that aspect of Goa. Twice every monsoon, I arm-twist my friends and family into packing a picnic and heading to a waterfall. It’s simply splendid.”

AVINASH MARTINS CHEF-FOUNDER, CAVATINA & C’EST L’AVI

Martins is the force behind Cavatina in Benaulim and also C’est L’Avi, a specialty dining experience (also known as Table in the Hills) located on a 200-acre mountain estate. Martins is from Velim, a historical village located in the Salcette district that is surrounded by beach, sea, river and mountains. His favourite childhood memories are walking through the village with his grandmother, sharing meals with the toddy tappers, pickling seafood and mangoes in the summer and making pork sausages before the monsoon. While he’s cognisant of Goa’s immense cultural and culinary heritage, for Martins, its true heroes are its everyday artisans. “Every aspect of Goa and its people inspire me every day! My artisans are my heroes and I love to celebrate them and include them in my story. It’s not me, it’s we.”

His Goa: “I live for food, but the culinary scene in Goa is very commercial now. My recommendations are not fancy, but places that serve authentic food. Try the thaali at Mother’s Recipe which is a rather rundown place in Betul that offers home-style Goan dishes to its patrons. Pinto bar in Cabo de Rama is a tiny place but it serves the freshest seafood. There’s also a whole lot of culinary legacy in the forests and hinterlands of Goa. I run mindful tours here for guests who travel sensitively and can appreciate the offerings.”

SACHA MENDES STYLIST AND OWNER OF SACHA’S SHOP

Mendes started out as an editorial stylist, eventually moving back home to start a resort wear boutique in Panaji. Her brilliant curation of clothing, accessories and home goods became so popular, she now has a second outpost in Assagao, where she lives, and where her husband’s restaurant, the popular Tamil Table is based. “Goa is home. I was born and brought up here, so my roots run deep. It’s a paradise state and will continue to be if we look after her with love and respect. There’s something so refreshingly real and honest in the way lives are lived here.” For Mendes, Goa brings peace and clarity of the mind, which helps her thrive creatively. Her favourite part is the meaningful conversations and community interactions, she loves spending time with her father and his friends, listening to their stories.

Her Goa: “Spend an afternoon in Assagao, a sweet village in North Goa with shops, restaurants and interesting people. Have a meal at Tamil Table and do a spot of shopping at Sacha’s Shop. If you choose to go south, stop by Vivenda Dos Palhacos, a very special boutique hotel inside a heritage 100-year-old structure.”

NISHANT SALDANHA ARTIST AND CO-CURATOR, THE AMCHE MOLLEM CAMPAIGN

A trained artist who practises drawing and photography, Saldanha creates surrealist comics and posters as well as animated films and also works on long-duration photo-and-text projects to document the ecology, economy and culture of his home state of Goa. It is precisely why he supports the Amche Mollem campaign, with an aim to protect a section of Goa’s Western Ghats from deforestation. The deliberate pace of life in Goa was very attractive to Saldanha when he was trying to find his rhythm and voice as an artist. Besides the lush, nurturing natural beauty, what makes Goa compelling, is the often unexplored community spirit. “Understanding Goa helps me to understand the factors that influence my own world view and outlook,” he says. “I live in Reis Magos, Bardez, because my family is historically from here. Living across the river from Panaji gives me easy access to the city and Goa’s capital is central to my work as a location, a backdrop and a place of inspiration.”

His Goa: “Walk through Panaji city to experience chance encounters, conversations and observations. The International Film Festival of India also takes place here every year and its curation is really the best of international cinema. Also, contrary to popular belief, I think the monsoons are the best time to visit Goa for its wet, green, lush, introspective atmosphere. It is often a time of rest and a time where new ideas are born.

JAGVIR MATHAROO AND MARTINO CARAMIA DESIGNERS & CREATIVE DIRECTORS OF THE FLAME STORE, ELEVATION AND MAISON DU VOYAGE, GOA

“An eclectic mix of people from around the world have made Goa their home, making it one of the most interesting places to live within India,” says Matharoo. Along with his partner Caramia he runs a popular clothing line, Flame. Matharoo resides in a 300-year-old Portuguese home in the quiet neighbourhood of Parra, a small simple village in North Goa, tucked away from popular restaurants but close to their studio and stores. Both Matharoo and Caramia love living and working amidst nature and they especially delight in Goa’s verdant forests and blissful seascapes. The inspiring dialogues among Goa’s creative community has a deep impact on their work and sustainability initiatives.

Their Goa: “Visit the Friday market in Mapusa. It’s a chaotic, bustling space where you’ll discover local produce, vintage jewellery, eye-catching pottery and much more. The Serendipity Arts Festival in December is a must-see as well. It takes place in Panaji, which has undergone a huge revival as of late. Our favourite eatery for Goan food is an unassuming spot in Nerul called Bhatti Village. And on Sundays, you’ll find us enjoying sundowners with friends at Ashwem.”

SAFFRON WIEHL ARTIST & ILLUSTRATOR

Wiehl studied art and illustration in Australia, but decided to return to Goa to build a career. Her preferred medium is watercolours and her work is inspired by the natural beauty of Goa as well as by her late mother Shireen Mody, who was also a painter. “My earliest memories are around the age of four or five, when I would watch my mum in her studio and mimic how she would paint,” she says. “I remember she did a series of paddy fields and she would be standing at her big easel I had my mini one trying to get the shades of the blades of grass right.” You’ll find Wiehl collecting odd bits and pieces from her natural surroundings bones, shells, stones, wood—and when she’s not scouring the earth, she’s revelling in the surrounding artistic community.

Her Goa: “Stop by my gallery, Studio Arpora. Visit the Saturday Night Market to discover Goan designers like Tia and Dadablui and make it a point to discover all the best fish curry places.”

ARIJIT BOSE BAR AND BEVERAGE SPECIALIST

After running a top-ranked bar in Singapore, Bose wanted to make his own mark. In 2020, he moved to South Goa and opened what has now become one of the country’s most talked about bars: Tesouro by Firefly. After living near the bar in Betalbatim for two years, he recently moved to Dona Paula to focus on his new project, an experimental lab in Panaji. Bose has found a microcosm of entrepreneurs including farmers, specialty manufacturers and distillers here. His team goes to forest farms and forages with experts to source hyper-local and seasonal produce—something he doesn’t believe he can do anywhere else in India. “I’m an outsider but have been accepted by the food and beverage community in Goa, and that acceptance makes it a sunshine state for me,” he says. Life in Goa also brings him much needed balance. He cycles and surfs during his time off and says that the absence of a daily, traffic-filled commute ensures he has the mindspace to innovate and play with new ideas.

His Goa: “If there’s one experience I can recommend it’s a tour of the Cazulo feni distillery (sign up on Urbanaut). You’ll get to see a 300-year-old technique in action, learn about the heritage of feni and sample delicious cocktails and snacks with your feet immersed in a pond (with fish nibbling on them). Follow this up by going to South Goa’s ancient tavernas. Just sip on urrak Limca or feni-soda and enjoy the atmosphere. These places are slowly going to die out, so enjoy them while they’re alive.”

PRAYAAG AKBAR NOVELIST AND PROFESSOR AT KREA UNIVERSITY

Akbar’s first novel, Leila, is a poignant, dystopian tale that was adapted for Netflix by filmmaker Deepa Mehta. In 2019, when his son was six months old, he and his wife Shanta moved from Bombay to Goa in search of a quiet place to work and raise their firstborn. They found a lovely home in the serene farming village of Ucassaim, located between Aldona and Moira, which suited Akbar, to work on his second manuscript. “Goa is such a warm, welcoming place. The people here can be very open-hearted if you choose to engage with the community in a meaningful way,” he says. “We have neighbours whose families have lived in Ucassaim for a hundred years. When we first moved here we would go on walks with our son and I realised that Goans love kids. That’s how we made friends in the community. It’s the people here that bring the sunshine for me.” Akbar also credits the state with opening up his imagination as a writer. “I had all these ideas of wanting to write a certain kind of book. My first one was a dark, dystopian novel a very serious first book. I thought I’d always be writing those kinds [of books]. Coming to Goa helped me see that there’s a whole range of possibilities open to me as a writer. Living here helped me see more of myself, perhaps, and find different parts of myself that I could bring to the page.” His Goa: “Miguel’s in Panaji. It’s a wonderful experience with great food and cocktails, warm interiors, an open kitchen and friendly team. It has the right vibe for an evening out.”

#FertileGround #IspravaBlog

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kriosv · 1 year

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Ranger Rankings for Life's a Masquerade:

Billy 6: decent costume, only one to run after Bulk and Skull. Seriously, why didnt Zack or Jason help, they usually would.

Zack 5: best costume. Really has the physique to pull it off

Kim 4: pretty decent costume

Jason 3: worst put together costume. It just looks bad.

Trini 2: okay, i was expecting something like this from a 90's halloween episode, but me and my siblings were the village people back then, so i cant be too harsh on past mistakes. Insert Bo Burnham' Problematic here

Tommy 1: shows up to the party out of costume? Also, who turns off their communicator while theyre an on call superhero?

Best Stunt: Bulk catching Sharkie.

What happened to Sharkie?!

Sharkie shouldve been a mainstay. I love her punk aesthetic, and she worked great with Bulk and Skull. Why didnt they do more with her? So much wasted potential.

Apparently one script even had her slapstick fight Kimberly! Thats what ive been asking for, more Trini and Kim fighting the punks. If you dont want them fighting Bulk and Skull, you shouldve used Sharkie. Why couldnt we keep her! I want Sharkie back😭😭😭

#mmpr #mighty morphin power rangers #mighty morphin power rangers Sharkie #krpr watch

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history-matters · 2 years

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Marina Amirgarova and Otto Kuusinen with daughter Violeta.

OTHER DETAILS

Aino Andrejewna was a Comintern agent, and the first from inner circle of the Soviet leadership, who defected to the West (1965), second was Svetlana Allilueva (1967).

She traveled to the United States. There she was supposed to solve disputes between the US Communist Party and the powerful community of Finnish immigrant workers, and discourage candidates from returning to Karelia. At the end of January 1931 she departed under the false name of Morton with a Swedish passport. The New York experience finally made her aware of the backwardness of the Soviet Union. She spent most of her time reorganizing the five Finnish newspapers. In July 1933, Aino, after enjoying the relatively favored American living conditions for two and a half years, returned to Moscow. In October 1933, Arvid Jacobson, a Finnish-American spy she had recruited in New York, and who was on operational assignment in Finland, had been unmasked and arrested.

On her return to Moscow, Aino was recruited by General Jan Berzin, chief of the military intelligence GRU (then, IV Directorate of the General Staff of the Red Army). Her husband, after much hesitation, agreed that Aino Kuusinen would go to Japan as an agent. This time (1934), she traveled under the name of Elisabeth Hensson via Venice and Shanghai to Tokyo. where she was introduced to the correspondent of the German Frankfurter Zeitung Richard Sorge, whom she describes as an alcoholic, and who was later executed in Japan.

On the night of December 31, 1937, Aino celebrates the transition to the new year with a friend, Stanko Sapunov (the representative of Bulgaria in the Executive Committee of Comintern), and wishes him that 1938 would be a less terrible year than 1937. On January 1, 1938, at five in the morning, she was arrested and taken first to Butyrka, then to Lubyanka prison. During the nightly interrogations she was supposed to admit that her husband was a British spy.

The Soviet government issued amnesty at the end of the Second World War, and Kuusinen was released in December 1946.

She tried to settle in Rostov, Moscow, Tbilisi and in a small village in Kazakhstan, but never received a residence permit, which would require a permanent job. In May 1949, she was arrested again and placed in Lubyanka prison in Moscow, because she had sought contact to the United States Embassy in Moscow, and was accused of espionage in favor of the United States. At the end of 1950, she was sent back to Potma for five and a half years - 400 kilometers from Moscow by Kazan railway - without being brought to justice. She found out that she had been sentenced to 15 years forced labor for counterrevolutionary activity.

Two years after Stalin’s death, she ventured to write a petition to the Attorney General. On October 12, 1955, she was told that the sentences had been given to her unjustly and there were no crimes. Back in Moscow, she was given an apartment in the House on the Embankment and a small pension and was formally rehabilitated. She was closest neighbor of Svetlana Allilueva.

She is considered to be one of the most controversial figure along with Hede Massing and Elsa Bernaut.

Otto Kuusinen was a member of the Presidium (Politburo) of the Central Committee of the Soviet Communist Party (1952-1953). Despite his close work with Stalin, Kuusinen was able to continue to work during the administration of Nikita Khrushchev (1953–1964). He was member of the Presidium and Secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union supervising Party’s external relations in 1957–1964. In the end of 1950s, Kuusinen was also one of the editors of The Fundamentals of Marxism-Leninism, a textbook considered to be one of the fundamental works on dialectical materialism and Leninist communism. Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev was absent on his funeral due to visiting Egypt on a vessel Armenia (May 9-25, 1964).

THE CONSPIRACY THEORY

Along with the defection of Aino Andrejewna, two State Department officers of Finnish origin disappeared from the horizon: John U. Aaalto, Jr., and Sergei Aalto.

John U. Aalto Jr - 1925-2015. Attache USAF Moscow 63-65.

Sergei K. Aalto - b. Finland Apr. 25, 1914, naturalized 30; Stanford U. 35-36; Portland Apprentice Sch. 37-39; US Navy 43-45, overseas; painter contractor 36-43; v. pres. 39-41, pres., business manager 41-43, union; apprenticeship representative 46-61, superviser apprenticeship and training representative 61-62, Dept. of Labor; app. R-5, labor training adviser, Ankara Aug. 23, 62-65. -AID.

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sup-hoes-its-me · 2 years

Text

Falling (Kakashi x Reader)

Summary: Reader has been friends with Kakashi for as long as she can remember, but recently, she has been developing more intense feelings for him. Hanahaki au, reader inflicted.

A/N: sorry ive been gone for so long. Life has been kicking my ass, but im trying to get back on my feet. I will try to post more often, but i cant make any promises. I can only write when im listening to extremely sad music, so if you have any gut wrenching, cry-your-eyes-out recommendations, leave a comment please!

Word count: 4500

_______

It was widely accepted as time went on that Y/N and her entire team died. They left six months ago and hadn't sent word back since week two. The mission wasn’t supposed to last any longer than three weeks, and constant relaying of information was supposed to take place. Only, communications had been cut off without warning, summons weren’t coming back home to report on the situation at hand, and not a single member had been seen since they left.

It was as if they'd fallen off the face of the Earth. The Hokage was beginning to plan a memorial service to honor them and their sacrifice to the village, after concluding that the shinobi were most likely dead. They couldn’t afford to throw even more money into the search when time kept passing and nothing was coming of it. Any remnants of hope Tsunade had was gone.

The rescue missions they did conduct had more than disappointing results. Trails of blood outside the city where the missing persons were assigned espionage. Abandoned bags with all their resources left behind. Scuffled footprints left in the deep set mud. Seeing all the evidence made it nearly impossible to remain positive.

Four shinobi left for that mission. One of them, the leader, just so happened to be Y/N L/N. Talented jounin and even more so, a beloved friend.

It was difficult for those close to her to accept her demise. It took all of those six months for people to come to terms with the horrific conclusion. Kakashi, despite normally tackling death smoothly due to their line of work, couldn't accept that she was dead. Not without a body. Not without some kind of proof. She was strong. Stronger than the majority of people he knew. There was no way she just succumbed to the enemy like that.

Really though, he just couldn’t admit that another person he had grown comfortable with was dead. Just like all the others that had come before her, bloodied and murdered. It depressed him, and as much as he tried to contain his emotions, those that interacted with him noticed. As much as Gai could try to cheer him up with pointless challenges, no matter how many times Yamato took him out to get absolutely hammered at the bar, or how many missions Tsunade sent him on to subvert his attention. The pain persisted.

He had other things to worry about as well. With the upcoming war, Jiraiya’s death, and the Akatsuki fucking everything up, he should have been on top of his game. Instead, he stayed up long nights willing her to come back alive. He replayed the moment Tsunade suggested they hold a memorial. Shizune sobbing upon the loss of her childhood friend. Gai hanging his head, palms pressed to his eyes. As he lay in his bed, he could feel the way his heart ached at each mention of her name, each time her face flashed through his mind.

Kakashi was heartbroken. He fought for the dates to be pushed back. Each week that passed, he begged that they have more time, that she would be back. It was pathetically sad, he knew this. He could feel the pity from Tsunade run off in waves. He wasn’t ready to mourn her death. All the man wanted was more time.

And then one day a few little academy students found a squad of nearly unrecognizable injured and bloodied people in the forest, trekking the best they could toward the village. They didn't know who the strangers were, why would they? They were just school kids, barely 10 years old. A bunch of old jounin having gone missing months ago wasn’t something they concerned themselves with.

Kakashi heard whispers about it from shinobi rushing to the Hokage’s office, but no one was saying anything concrete. No one could confirm it was them. Not yet.

A crew of Anbu was sent out to retrieve the stragglers, everyone hoping deep in their hearts that they’d be met with familiar faces.

He waited for her for nearly an hour, rain pouring down heavily and soaking into his clothes and hair, sending shivers down his spine. Perhaps he would end up with a cold the next day, he didn't care. When he thought about her, as he stood out there in the inclement weather, his lips curled up. If she were here, she'd have scolded him for being so ridiculous.

She’d usher him into the nearest shop and rub up and down his arms, trying to warm them with the little heat she had coming from her palms. The woman would hush him as he tried to defend himself, telling him not to worry so much and that she could handle herself. That’s always how she was, so worried about him yet uncaring about herself. Some would call her selfless, he would just call her stupid.

But he still cared for her. More than he realized.

That’s why he waited.

When they entered the village, being carried by multiple other shinobi from the village, blood seeping into their clothes and dripping into the sand below their feet, Kakashi felt his heart stop. He saw her teammates limping along with their arms over another’s shoulders. That, or they were being carried, incapacitated in the arms of a fellow soldier.

She was at the end of the line behind all the others who pulled themselves through the gates of their hometown. She was beaten to a pulp, blood drenched and purple from bruises. Her head was wrapped in makeshift bandages and her legs wobbled beneath her. He could see her arm broken, hanging limply at her side. A member of the Anbu carried her against his side as she struggled to even take each step.

Her eyes lifted from the ground to those who stood waiting for their arrival. Immediately, hers caught hold of the man who’d been waiting all this time.

"Kakashi?" she called out, weakly but still her voice found him through the chorus of moans and groans from her teammates and the downpour of the rain around them. Thunder crackled in the background as his feet hit the ground and he rushed across the street to her.

"L/N, you son of a bitch," he said, grabbing her by the waist without a second thought and tugging her body tightly to his chest, away from the hands of the Anbu soldier. She gasped, feeling his heart beating against her chest at the touch, fast and intense like a drum. Frostbitten fingers held her up by her waist while the other hand wound its way into her slick wet hair.

"Your hands. They-they're so cold. Kakashi, you shouldn't be out here like this!" she cried with the energy she had left in her chest. At the mere touch of his hands on her bare skin, she felt excitement fuel her mind. Thoughts rushed as her skin grew warm under his horrified gaze. These feelings, the warm and bubbly ones growing in her chest, were new, but she welcomed them without question after everything she had been through.

There was something else about him waiting out there, his frantic eyes, clothes soaking down to his bone with that icy cold water, that disturbed something deep inside her chest, burrowed down against her heart and rapidly inflating lungs. She brushed off the feeling, putting it down as simple relief from serious homesickness. There was no way to anticipate what had become of her feelings at that point, how they would ravage her body in a few years time, what had started to grow.

"Me? What about you? Everyone thought you died."

She peered up into his eyes, water dripping down from his shaggy bangs on display without his headband. Those irises were dark as always, but at the sight of her alive, they shined. "We were kidnapped. Tortured...Kakashi," she confessed, "Even I thought we were going to die."

“I could have protected you.” His hands found their way to cradling her cheeks, running his fingers along the raw and red skin that had been weathered all these months. Her face was littered with little cuts, both open and some that were in the process of healing into scars. “I should have come to find you-”

“It’s not your fault. You had other missions to take care of. No one could have predicted this.” The woman sighed audibly and let her head fall to rest in his hand. Why did this touch feel so good? It was like heaven on Earth, she thought as he ran his thumbs along her cheekbones. So comforting she wanted to curl up and fall asleep.

“We knew it was dangerous. Too dangerous, even for a four man squad.”

As she was about to protest, arguing that if she had been a better squad leader when approaching the enemy they could have avoided all this trouble, a voice called out from the gates. Sakura, of all people, standing there with a makeshift umbrella over her head made of a manilla folder.

“Kakashi-sensei, Y/N needs to get to the hospital now! No time to stand around!” she called through the heavy downpour, and he nodded. It probably wasn’t good for Y/N to be limping around on her broken up body any longer than she had to, and standing in this weather certainly wouldn’t help any. “I’ll meet you there. We already got a bed set up.”

Y/N clutched onto Kakashi’s arm and made a move to take a tentative, painful step forward, only to be stopped. “Let’s go,” she urged, peering up at him.

“Let me carry you.”

“Uh, what?”

“It’s a long way across town, you know. Aren’t you in pain?”

She nodded, but still, she felt herself dying a little bit on the inside at the thought of walking past all the people in town being cradled in his arms. People might get the wrong idea. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just embarrassing,” she mumbled. But really, her legs were killing her, and she would rather just relax until she got to the hospital than be in more excruciating pain. “Fine...You can, but don’t make it weird.”

“No one’s making it weird. I’m just being friendly.”

Friendly, my ass. More like flirty, she thought to herself. Whatever. Kakashi was still a pervert after all..

He lifted her slowly into his arms as she groaned at the pressure shifting. She let her head fall heavy against his chest and shut her eyes, taking deep breaths to work through the pain running through her body. She was safe now. All the anxiety and fear she’d held for so many months could flow away now that she was in the arms of a friend and in the care of a village which loved her.

As he walked across town, she felt nearly lulled to sleep by his pace and the gentle footsteps he took across dirt roads. Most people were inside at this time, but she did hear a couple shouts from people standing under their carts and in their storefronts, asking if everything was okay.

“Y/N’s back home,” he would reply shortly and they would cry back with relief in their voice. She felt pride in her chest knowing that the people of the town knew and respected her, that they were hoping for her safe return. Even if she wasn’t the best shinobi, she still was worth something to this village.

They got to the hospital in a pretty timely manner, considering he was extra careful not to jostle her around too much. He went to drop her off in her bed as the ward nurses rushed around with all kinds of equipment.

He was content, running his hand once more over her hair and down her cheek. No one could really tell how he felt from his masked lips, a smile only present in the way his eyes sparkled down at her lying in the thin white sheets. It flustered her, seeing how happy he was solely because of her. Surely, she wasn’t that special. “Kakashi?” she asked, interrupting the thick silence.

“I have to go, but I’ll take you out for drinks after you’re all fixed up, alright?” he told her, giving her shoulder one final squeeze as he backed away from the bed.

“I’ll hold you to that offer, you know,” Y/N called behind him as he walked toward the door. She didn’t want him to go. She wanted to keep talking, just enough conversation to keep him by her side for a little longer. Unfortunately, the hustle and bustle of the hospital room made that impossible, not to mention she would be stripped and examined, and she’d prefer if he wasn’t around for that part.

“I know.”

She leaned back in the bed as the door swung shut behind him. Once the door was shut, scissors began their work to cut away at the fishnets on her arms and her legs.

“You’re so lucky, Miss Y/N,” one of the nurses, who was beginning to examine some of the wounds on her face muttered giddily. Y/N raised a brow, shocked that someone could say that to her after she had literally been missing for months and held hostage, but still, she let the younger nurse continue. “We all wish we had a hot guy friend like Kakashi.”

“What?!” Y/N choked.

“She’s right. Kakashi is the sexiest man in town and he’s all over you! He acts all tough with everyone else but is a total sweetheart for you!” Another one of the nurses laughed. Y/N felt her face beginning to get hot, and she shook her head. “You should save some for the rest of us, haha.”

“Kakashi is not sexy...He’s a bumbling idiot, is what he is. An absolute scoundrel. A-A pervert.”

The nurse pressed a gauze to a particularly deep gash on the side of her temple, right on the hairline and shook her head. “Maybe he is those things, but damn, have you seen his arms? So strong. You could really see his muscles with his clothes soaked by the rain.” The nurse shook as if a shiver ran down her spine at the thought of the man.

Y/N really hadn’t ever looked at her friend like that. They were simply that...Friends. He was never sexy, or hot, or handsome. He was a stupid loser who cried over porn novel plots when he got a little too drunk. He was a smelly guy who slept with his ninkin because he was single, and only had like two friends.

“I’ve never seen him that way before,” she confessed quietly. Her mind was wandering to thoughts of his body, and she sighed, shaking her head. This was wrong. She couldn’t objectify him that way. He was just Kakashi, nothing special, nothing to gush about.

“I’m surprised. Always thought he liked you.”

“Me? God, no.”

“Well, why not? He cares about you enough,” one nurse commented offhandedly. “The village had given up on you four shinobi, but Kakashi, he never lost faith that you would come back. He was the sole reason your memorial was pushed back for so long.”

“Oh.” She didn’t expect that.

“How dreamy...All my lousy boyfriend does is complain about my cooking.”

The nurses continued to talk, but the conversation had now drifted off to griping about their own boyfriends and husbands which Y/N couldn’t care less about. Her mind wandered to the man who’d been so kind as to wait for her in the rain and carry her all the way here. He wasn’t ugly, she could see that much. Did that mean he was handsome? Well, she’d never thought about it before, but now that she did, they were right.

He was better looking than the majority of the men she’d encountered in her life. He was manly and intense, even with the mask on to conceal half his features. Still, recognizing that her friend was attractive did not mean that she had any sort of attraction toward him as a person.

There was no way she could develop feelings for such a fool. That quiver in her heart when she saw him waiting for her at the gates? That was just a fluke. And the nauseous feeling she got when his hands touched her skin? Nothing but human nature. Her desperately wanting him to stay with her in this hospital room, after being away from him for far too long? She was just home sick, and he was a small portion of the place she called home. These ladies were delusional if they thought she felt anything more than friendship for him.

Kakashi? As a boyfriend?

Gross. Of course not. Completely out of the question.

_______

Over the course of the war, and the years following, Y/N had grown a little too familiar with Kakashi Hatake, more so than ever before. It was as if those nurses years ago foretold her future.

She loved him. She knew that now.

He was a friend, one of the greatest to ever exist, despite his denial of it all. They fought alongside each other in multiple wars, conquering enemies while protecting the other. It was a partnership she was more than happy to have, ecstatic someone was there to have her back when things were looking grim. He, Shizune, and even Gai and Genma had been there for so long she couldn’t remember a life without them.

Kakashi was different though. As she watched him rise from a jounin into the Hokage they knew, she felt her heart begin to flutter when he called for her, or when he took the time out of his day to come by her house. He was all too important, and she was merely an ant under his feet. She longed for his touches and his ever-so tired words to fall from his lips. He was so unobtainable, and perhaps that made her want him even more.

After she arrived home from her disaster of a mission, things truly began to fall apart. She couldn’t keep her composure anymore. She was only anxious in the beginning. How could she not be? She harbored a love for her best friend and Hokage, someone so far out of her league she couldn’t even fathom admitting her feelings to him now. She wasn’t a child anymore; they were adults with responsibilities. They didn’t have time to fool around with these antics.

He didn’t have time to settle down with her, or whatever a love between them would blossom into. They barely had time to go out and get drinks every couple of weeks for a few hours. How could they date? It was completely hopeless. Not that any of those problems mattered considering the fact that he didn’t harbor the same feelings she had for him. It was embarrassing really. Having a crush at the ripe age of 32? Unreciprocated? So stupid. Y/N wanted to bury her head in the sand for being so foolish.

She was so busy wallowing in her own shame and pity that she hadn’t even noticed the signs.

Almost as quickly as she felt the emotions brew up in her chest and her love grow firm, they started.

The coughing fits.

It only felt like a small cold at first. Coughing in the middle of the night and needing to drink some water to get back to bed. Maybe it was just allergies, she thought, after weeks had passed and the sickness remained. Maybe she had caught a virus from another nation and the antidote was something foreign. Surely that must be it, she thought after a month.

Desperately, the woman tried to ignore the nagging feeling deep in her chest, pooling in her stomach. This sickness felt sinister, forcefully aggressive in the most intimate sort of way. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was grappling at her ribcage, digging it's way to her lungs and her heart. Burrowing inside. She held her head high and ignored it.

She was a kunoichi. After years and years of fighting, her body had been through worse more times than she could count. Y/N could handle it. That’s what she assumed, anyway.

She was mid-training session, deep in the woods where she focused on developing new jutsu when it was finally revealed to her just what was wrong. Quiet wind blew past her face and whipped at her cheeks. With this cold, she knew it wasn't wise to be out in winter, only putting further strain on her lungs which struggled to take in air. Still, she needed to train, to work; it was the only thing that kept her head afloat.

Kakashi was so busy. It seemed like recently she only ever saw Kurenai and Gai. Being Hokage was never a position he wanted, but he fulfilled the role well. She wished to spend more time with him. To see his face and to hear him chuckle from beneath his mask. Everyday, she felt herself growing more desperate for him. Yet, she kept herself from acting a fool.

She didn't burden him with the knowledge of her growing illness. He didn't need any more stress on his mind; he was busy worrying over an entire nation after all. It broke her heart being so distant, to not sit down and share her secrets and concerns with him like before.

She felt her stomach turn, sick at the thought of missing him, the man of her affections.

That single moment, with the turn of an upset stomach and the clench of her longing heart in her chest, is when it started.An awful heavy feeling sinking deep into her abdomen and clouding her mind of every coherent thought. She choked on the frigid air whipping by her face as it clashed with the fire lit ablaze.

The woman fell to the ground, knees digging into the soft dirt. Her lungs were like lead forcing her to the ground while a powerful burn ran through them up into her throat. Coughs wrecked her body which curled in on itself as the fit grew more intense. Fingers desperately clutched at the fabric above her heart and the necklace around her throat.

The pain was something unlike anything she knew. It burned deeper than she thought a simple cough or cold could. Tears grew in her eyes as she struggled to breath through the coughs full of rage and anger.

After a minute of hacking up what she assumed was her entire lung, something foreign left her mouth. The coughing subsided and she gasped for air, shutting her eyes and relishing in the relief. Only, that feeling was short lived as her eyes opened to peer down at what she’d choked up only a moment ago.

Some sort of flower petals littered the ground at her knees. She stared in disbelief. It was merely a legend among the old, rumors and tall tales passed along from generation to generation. It wasn’t something anyone ever took seriously. After all, it had been seemingly hundreds of years since a victim fell ill in the Leaf Village. There wasn’t a single person alive that had seen it first hand.

At first, she thought she might be hallucinating.

But as she reached down to thumb the petals, slick with her saliva, everything became eerily real. A heavy feeling fell on her chest and her breaths quickened, dread hanging over her head. This sickness she was having, it wasn’t caused by some reversible virus, one that could be fixed with an antidote. She was cursed. Ill beyond normal repair.

Hanahaki disease.

Caused by unrequited love.

She was so naive to think that letting herself develop these feelings for Kakashi would remain a harmless secret for as long as it lasted. Of course, it was just her luck that something like this would happen. Right after fighting a war, it seemed she would be fighting her own as well.

For now, she would keep it to herself, see how it progressed. From what she remembered of her grandmother talking about the disease, there were only two ways to cure it. Professing your love to the object of your affection and them reciprocating or a more tortuous route: surgery to remove the growing flora in your chest, but at the cost of forgetting every feeling and memory associated with your person. If no decision is made, the branches will continue to grow until you die a painful death.

If her ancestor was right all those years ago, Y/N would have quite the choice to make.

She wasn't sure she could forget about Kakashi. The memories she had with him brought her more joy than anyone could imagine. She couldn't give that up. She loved him. He was a critical part of her and she wasn't willing to break herself up into pieces just to be cured.

She would rather die than give up on him. She was fine with dying as just friends, knowing him and the things he'd done for her over the years. Anything but losing him forever.

Confessing would be hard, if not impossible. She would wait to make her choice, wait for it to get worse. If she got scared enough, surely she would crumble and confess her feelings to him. It all felt pointless though. He clearly did not have feelings for her. He was never the type to have lovey emotions. He would just reject her, her condition would become critical, and she would be forced to get the surgery anyway.

Maybe if he rejected her, it would be easier letting go of her precious memories

Fear crept under her skin and made room in her heart. What if he didn't mind losing her forever? They wouldn't have the time to mend their friendship back into one they had developed over so many years. He might just move on and forget about her, as much as she hated to think about. He seemed to care about her, even if they were only coworkers and coincidentally friends. Surely he would at least be a bit upset.

Honestly, there was no way to tell how Kakashi would react to the news of her losing all connection to him. He was elusive even in the most revealing of moments. Only a few times had he truly revealed his raw emotions to her. Sure, she liked to believe he would be upset, but if she was still alive and healthy, would he really complain? The morning's breakfast rose in her throat as self-doubt clouded her vision.

Y/N swallowed down her struggles for now. She had to live in the present, and as of right now she was still friends with Kakashi, she was healthy enough to live her life, everything was going fine.

Nothing to worry about.

#kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi hatake #kakashi #naruto x reader #naruto fanfic #naruto oneshot #kakashi hakate #naruto #hanahaki #hanahaki naruto x reader #oneshot #x reader #writing #truly i am sorry for being gone so long my life got so fucked up and im still struggling #i havent had inspiration so if this story seems uninspired and shitty thats why

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loueeki · 3 years

Note

Wtf why do u hate mayor Lewis sm? He's literally a good mayor and does so much for the village?

I HAVE SO MANY REASONS

get ready for my small essay if i sound rude here i’m not being rude i promise i just HATE HIM and also my grammar is AWFUL like real bad so excuse that

firstly I DO EVERYTHING FOR HIM, yet again i do his job every single day fixing the whole town paying for everything while he sits on his arse and does nothing but fuck with marines feelings!? like she deserves so much better man!! he uses his job as an excuse to not commit to marine he’s literally just dragging her along and playing with her feelings

i had to restore the whole community center AND HE SAYS LITERALLY NOTHING ABOUT IT i got awarded with a trophy that looks like vincent sculpted it in his fucking art class with penny (it’s got a tiny amount of gold in it cos we all know where the rest of the gold went to *ahem* lewis statue), like come on man he barely even thanks me “it looks better then ever” LEWIS I LITERALLY REPAIRED A BUS A QUAREY BRIDGE A WHOLE FUCKING BUILDING AND EVERYTHING AND HE SAYS NOTHING ABOUT IT ok sorry that part just annoys me cos like, he could at least come to the farmer and thank them or ask if he needs to contribute anything (which he never does he contributes nothing to the town) and i have put thousands into the town while he sits back and claims he’s a great mayor and he does so much, no lewis you organise the egg festival once a year that is doing nothing to help society

he also claims the town is great yet he is literally giving into joja? as a mayor shouldn’t he be trying to fight back? the whole town is a literal mess he’s completely blind to what’s going on behind the scenes or he just doesn’t care enough to do anything about it (also the minecarts and transportation is all fucked?)

yet he takes credit for everything like the special orders notice board ROBIN DID ALL THE WORK and he gets mad when she calls him out on claiming he helped, like no lewis you are useless

ALSO, why do i have to do his dirty work? i dont want to pick up his dirty boxers from the floor SPECIFICALLY MARNIES FLOOR (why cant he do that himself!?) like ok lewis we all know what you’ve been up to then

AND AFTER THAT HE HAS THE AUDACITY TO MAKE ME BRING HIM TRUFFLE OIL BUT TO NOT ASK ANY QUESTIONS like this is so DODGY and i wont forget the time i shook the bush for a suprise at midnight and caught him and marine doing fuck knows what in A BUSH (I REPEAT THE MAYOR THE FUCKING MAYOR WAS IN THE BUSH DOING SOME DODGY SHIT)

and it’s the fact he doesn’t care about the town falling apart only his social status and that everything will go to shit if the town find out about him and marine, ok lewis i’m glad that’s where your priorities stand

he doesn’t really seem to care for his citizens either? like shane? he’s suffering lewis but everything’s going great right? pam? pams not in a great place either but that’s not his problem is it? he sees the town as perfect and nothing wrong with it, and the poor kids, i get its a small town BUT THEY NEED A SCHOOL especially when possible spoiler here leo joins as well, he cant just put the constant stress onto penny, she’s young she shouldn’t have to waste all her time teaching kids even if she does say she doesn’t mind

and don’t get me started on the golden piss station (the fucking gold statue) we all know why lewis collects taxes ITS TO MAKE SOME SORT OF SEXY SOLID GOLD STATUE OF HIMSELF TO GIFT TO MARNIE AND HE HAS THE AUDACITY TO GET MAD AT ME FOR FINDING IT?

he also bribes the farmer with money to do all these things, maybe put the money into the town? help fix some things up?

UH OK I THINK THATS MY MASSIVE RANT OVER IM PROBABLY MISSING THINGS MAYBE I AM OVERREACTING BUT I JUST CANT LIKE HIM IVE TRIED I SWEAR I HAVE

#stardew valley #sdv #sdv lewis #mayor lewis #stardew

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desbianherstory · 4 years

Text

south asian lesbian literature

I. autobiography

Samra Habib, We Have Always Been Here: A Queer Muslim Memoir

Kamala Das, My Story

Suniti Namjoshi, Goja: An Autobiographical Myth

Minal Hajratwala, Leaving India: My Family's Journey from Five Villages to Five Continents

Nishta J. Mehra, Brown White Black: An American Family at the Intersection of Race, Gender, Sexuality, and Religion

Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha, Dirty River: A Queer Femme of Color Dreaming Her Way Home

II. fiction

Suniti Namjoshi, Feminist Fables

Suniti Namjoshi, The Conversations of Cow

SJ Sindu, Marriage of a Thousand Lies

Amruta Patil, Kari

Shamim Sarif, The World Unseen

Parvati Sharma, The Dead Camel and Others Stories of Love

Dolar Vasani, Not Yet Uhuru

Mala Kumar, The Paths of Marriage

Shani Mootoo, Out On Main Street

Shani Mootoo, Cereus Blooms at Night

Shani Mootoo, Polar Vortex

Farazana Doctor, Stealing Nasreen

Out! Stories from the New Queer India, ed. Minal Hajratwala

IIb. fiction - dubious depiction of lesbian relationships by non-lesbians (there are more of course, and you can read about some of them in Same-Sex love in India: Readings from Literature and History, eds. Vanita and Kidwai)

Ismat Chughtai, “The Quilt”

Ismat Chughtai, The Crooked Line

Manju Kapur, A Married Woman

Jhumpa Lahiri, The Lowland

Nayana Currimbhoy, Miss Timmins’ School for Girls

Tanwi Nandini Islam, Bright Lines: A Novel

Abha Dawesar, Babyji

III. poetry

Anurima Banerji

Suniti Namjoshi

Kamala Das

Kaushalya Bannerji

Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha

Samira Obeid

Nila Gupta

Minal Hajratwala

Kosar Saira

Ruth Vanita

V.K. Aruna

Ghazala Anwar

Inez Dullas

Neema Vachani

Mita Radhakrishnan

Maya Chowdhry

IV. non-fiction and mixed anthologies

Naisargi Dave, Queer Activism in India: A Story in the Anthropology of Ethics

Ruth Vanita, Love’s Rite: Same-Sex Marriage in India and the West

Frances B. Singh, Scandal and Survival in Nineteenth-Century Scotland: The Life of Jane Cumming

Maya Sharma, Loving Women: Being Lesbian in Unprivileged India

Giti Thadani, Sakhiyani: Lesbian Desire in Ancient and Modern India

Because I Have A Voice: Queer Politics in India, eds. Arvind Narrain and Gautam Bhan

No Outlaws in the Gender Galaxy, eds. Chayanika Shah, Raj Merchant, Shals Mahajan, Smriti Nevatia

Sex and the Supreme Court: How the Law is Upholding the Dignity of the Indian Citizen, ed. Saurabh Kirpal

Suparna Bhaskaran, Made in India: Decolonializations, Queer Sexualities, Trans/National Projects

Women's Sexualities and Masculinities in a Globalizing Asia, eds. Saskia E. Wieringa, Evelyn Blackwood and Abha Bhaiya

Facing the Mirror: Lesbian Writing from India, ed. Ashwini Sukthankar

Shraddha Chatterjee, Queer Politics in India: Towards Sexual Subaltern Subjects

Same-Sex Love in India: Readings from Literature and History, eds. Ruth Vanita and Saleem Kidawi

Queering India: Same-Sex Love and Eroticism in Indian Culture and Society, ed. Ruth Vanita

Gayatri Gopinath, Impossible Desires: Queer Diasporas and South Asian Public Cultures

A Lotus of Another Color, ed. Rakesh Ratti

The Very Inside: An Anthology of Writings by Asian & Pacific Islander Lesbian and Bisexual Women, ed. Sharon Lim-Hing

Urvashi Vaid, Virtual Equality: The Mainstreaming of Gay and Lesbian Liberation

Urvashi Vaid, Irresistible Revolution: Confronting Race, Class and the Assumptions of LGBT Politics

Sara Ahmed, Living a Feminist Life

Monisha Das Gupta, Unruly Immigrants Rights, Activism, and Transnational South Asian Politics in the United States

Ami Ramesh Patel, “A Community History of Satrang: Negotiating Visibility as LGBTQ South Asian Americans in Los Angeles"

Sharon Fernandez, “More than Just an Arts Festival: Communities, Resistance, and the Story of Desh Pardesh”

*lesbian is used both as an adjective and noun in this list. works are included that deal with lesbian relationships.

**south asian lesbian cinema for south asian lesbian films and documentaries (the original post is updated whenever more are found)

***south asian lesbian visual art: chitra ganesh, parminder sekhon, samra habib, mumtaz karimjee, sunil gupta, amruta patil, debi ray-chaudhuri, theresa thadani, sharon fernandez etc... not going to attempt to make a full list but check them out.

#south asian lesbian literature #lesbian literature #list

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askthewvba · 3 years

Text

Hippo Island Culture 101 (Crash Course)

Everything you’d never think to ask! 🤪

First off! Hippo Island actually refers to multiple smaller islands surrounding a larger landmass. The King Hippo has one of these smaller islands all for islands all for himself while the larger island is occupied by his people and the other smaller islands are each used for their own special occasions.

🍍Characteristics

Hippoans are human beings. Despite their intimidating and foreign appearance (and lack of noses) they are just as human as the rest of the Punch Out cast with their own language, culture, history and struggles. Just to get that out of the way immediately! While it is commonly believed that King Hippo is kind of a kind, that's simply not the case!

The Hippoans do all just be Built Different! All Hippoans are heavy naturally, and the heavier you are the more healthy and desirable you’re seen in their society. Having especially chubby children or a chubby spouse signals to other Hippoans that you’re a generous person and they know whose hut to visit at dinner time! There are rare exceptions to this rule but big is the bar set and big is beautiful.

This weight does come at a price however. Hippoans are so heavy with all of their heft and dense bones that they are completely incapable of swimming. Hippoans will sink like a rock!!! This has lead to most of them being absolutely petrified of the sea. Traveling from island to island is fine because the water between the smaller islands is typically not enough to drown in and otherwise is only a short ride by boat away. Traveling any farther than the lands governed by King Hippo is out of the question, and King Hippo is seen as indisputably courageous for traveling to the Mainland regularly. If a Hippoan falls from the boat they must be rescued and pulled back aboard immediately or face certain death by drowning. There’s no recovering a sunken Hippoan. They will simply never be seen again.

The dark part of a Hippoan’s face actually isn’t a mask or facial marking, but rather a natural indent on their face! This indentation and their thick fleshy eyebrows are protection against the harsh sun on Hippo Island.

The skin of a Hippoan is thicker and more resilient than that of a non-Hippoan. It’ll bruise like any other and Hippoans will bleed like anyone else, though it tends to be just a bit harder to take them down with the usual means like sharp objects. They are built different and are built to take a ton of damage. That being said, their tummies are always a weakness without exception. Why this is as of yet unclear, but a blow to the stomach is so potent of an attack that when struck there a Hippoan is absolutely thrown for a loop. It’s like a complete system reset, going unconscious and often waking up disoriented and confused.

We also haven’t discovered why they evolved to not have noses, but it is suspected their sense of smell works like snakes. Rather than flicking out their tongues however it may be that they are smelling when breathing through their teeth.

🥥Names

Names don’t exist in the traditional sense on Hippo Island. Your name is typically your job, but even then there’s a bit more to it than that.

King Hippo was born Hippo Heir IV, as he was a potential heir to his father's throne along with at least five other siblings. When he dethroned his Father, who was then called King Hippo, his son took the title of King Hippo from him for himself.

Toddy is a nickname bestowed on him by King Hippo’s friend and personal translator, as it’s a name for Coconut Wine. This is a reference to the fact that his mother, King Hippo’s wife, was a brewer before she became Queen Hippo. Toddy would be known to his mother as “son” or “Coconut Son”, and had a collection of other names and titles over the years before he became generally known and accepted as Prince Hippo, most prominently “Coconut Servant”. Coconut in this case is used as an identifier to separate him from the other servants King Hippo used to have alongside Toddy. It was originally due to his haircut resembling a halved coconut.

Queen Hippo still prefers her ‘maiden title’ Coconut Brewer. To King Hippo she is Wife, to her he is Husband. Despite her elevated status she still goes to work as a Brewer every day, and it’s in being a Brewer that she’s nicknamed her children after her favorites fruits to ferment. Her son is Coconut Son, meanwhile…

Her daughters are Pineapple Daughters, Pineapple Princesses, and before King Hippo and Coconut Brewer got married they were known to the villagers as Shell Collectors. They are nicknamed Tepache and Neerah by King Hippo’s translator for convenience. The translator tried to nickname every Hippoan she’d ever met.

Other examples include the Ferryman, who simply goes by Ferryman along with a few other nicks, the Weavers (Elder Weaver, Loving Weaver, and Mischievous Weaver/also known as “Silkie”; three generations of Weavers), Lone Builder who is married to Loving Weaver, Boar Herder (“Tusk”), and Chicken Herder (“Drumstick”).

There are also unfavorable monikers for the less reputable villagers. Hippo Island is generally a peaceful, crime-free community, however there are a few outliers at any given time who serve as exceptions to this. The only noteworthy one who you may come to know is a hunter, formerly Ferocious Hunter, who is now widely known as “Bonehead”.

After losing his title of King Hippo, his father would go on to be known as “The Loathsome One”.

Related to names, “One” serves as a replacement pronoun for “I” and “me”.

King Hippo: Needs no introduction. He is simply This One. Used to refer to himself as ‘this hopeful one’ and ‘this victorious one’.

Toddy: This dutiful one.

Brewer: This hardy one. She too now has the credence to call herself This One.

🍌Jobs

Jobs are normally determined by the work already in the family, but there’s normally no shame in changing career paths. A Weaver Daughter could decide to be a Warrior. A Builder Son could decide to become a Craftsman or a Child Caregiver.

Brewer was originally a warrior in training during her youth, before deciding she wanted less to do with the battles and more to do with the merrymaking and celebration that comes afterwards. Toddy was a fire dancer for the better part of his teen years, but due to circumstances in his life decided he wanted to be a warrior.

Staying within your family’s line of work is a safe way to live since you’re surrounded by seasoned veterans of that skill set, but by no means are you limited to work within your bloodline. While everyone’s personality is different, most Hippoans are happy to teach.

Children of Hippo Island are usually given menial tasks, like collecting shells, to both prepare them for adult life and to educate them on the barter and trade system that Hippoans operate under by having them trade their trinkets with other children.

🌋Faith

The elements are Gods and Goddesses, plain and simple. The Volcano Gods must be appeased regularly and the Gods of the Deep must be respected and feared at all cost.

While all of their Gods command respect, each family tends to put higher value on different Gods in accordance to their job, and these families are at the forefront of all celebrations relating to these deities. The Ferryman, King Hippo and Toddy stand alone when celebrating the Gods of the Deep.

🏝Customs

This is a bit of a Work in Progress, but we do know their romantic customs. 🥰

Interest in one another is expressed through flower crowns and chains. There’s an entire color language when offering flowers with some signifying friendship, gratitude, or condolences. For simplicity’s sake we’ll focus on three such cases however.

Pink flowers are used when first pursuing another Hippoan that they fancy. It is the general color of a new love or infatuation.

Red flowers are a more passionate form of love and serve as making a much bolder statement. Typically you want to avoid these when you’re merely confessing your interest in another person, as red flowers are most commonly used in marriage proposals.

For extra points one may want to include their intended’s favorite flowers or flower of their favorite color to show consideration and a more genuine interest in who they are.

When offering the Infatuation Flowers, there’s not much fanfare involved. Simply get your loved one alone and ask if they’ll accept it. If yes, they’ll wear it on their head or around their neck. If you’re showing your feelings to a Hippoan and they reject you, they might just eat the flowers. A rude rejection will involve stomping on the flowers to snuff out the affections entirely.

Offering Proposal Flowers has a lot more symbolism, especially if, say, you’re King Hippo. When King Hippo proposed to his wife, he knelt before her and held his flowers for her up over his head. Slowly he lowered his head to bow to her until the crown fell from his head and rolled over towards her feet. Bowing is apart of every Hippoan proposal, but the Hippoan royalty exemplify it’s importance. Your intended is someone who you place above yourself, you humble yourself before them, and you sacrifice the symbol of your pride by allowing your crown to fall off. For commoners the practice is still meaningful, as it means you see your significant other as someone worthy of being royalty, as they are the only person other than your actual King/Queen who you would bow to.

Arranged Marriages used to be somewhat commonplace until some short time ago, when it was realized that matchmaking was a largely imperfect practice. It has always been preferred that either marriage occurred out of love, or when the arranged marriage elevated the family by means of having a relative become betrothed to Hippo Royalty. Nowadays marriages outside of love are met with scrutiny and discomfort and harems are completely out of the question. (Though that’s not to say our King Hippo hasn’t laid with a few Hippoan ladies before tying the knot with his wife… that just wasn’t their status in the hierarchy and wasn’t apart of their naming scheme.)

When Hippoans pass away, they are given a funeral similar to that of the Vikings, though without the fire. Hippoans don’t have the land and therefore the luxury of burying their dead, nor would they consider cremating them. Instead the dead are placed inside specially made boats, sealed inside with flowers and trinkets from the deceased’s family, and after a small service full of mournfully singing Hippoans, they are pushed out to sea to appease their ocean deities. Unlike the boats that serve the living on their journeys, these boats are designed to eventually capsize and sink.

Hippoans… don’t really have the capacity to speak in other foreign tongues. Not very clearly at least. King Hippo actually does speak some English if you listen closely, but even then it’s very difficult to fully understand.

Hippoans are called such for a reason. Their growls and deep bellows are reminiscent of a hippo, though their language and variants of it cover a wide range of other animals as well.

Child Hippoans typically sound like bear cubs whereas infants sound almost froglike. Some Hippoans have even been known to sound like elephants. Hippoan singing, as mentioned in a previous post, sounds like a mix of throat singing and a chorus of bull frogs.

There are words formed under all of these animalistic noises and these words can be learned, but few take the time. Until our King Hippo, the Hippoans were widely forgotten about by the rest of the world. Even now tourism to Hippo Island is very carefully limited by the King himself.

👑Becoming King

There’s a ton of Hippoan history being omitted here to spare time. What you need to know is that due to a change for the worse over time, in order to become King or Queen (or Sovereign depending on your identity) you would need to defeat the ruler of that time in a fight, one that strongly resembles boxing. Normally to postpone that from happening, the ruler would sire a multitude of children via a harem (or their spouse should they have one; our last King Hippo did not), and then those children would be trained to eventually do battle with one another for the right to take on their parent.

Upon meeting defeat the siblings would depart from the islands by boat, presumably to never be seen again. Same was the fate of The Loathsome One when his son dethroned him. As the new King he could have done away with the banishment tradition if he desired, but due to the damage callously caused by Loathsome (and the assumed loss of his family) it was decided he deserved no mercy. King Hippo would have executed him, but he wanted to herald in a new age for the Hippoan people that saw an end to violence and needless bloodshed.

#punch out #punchout #askthewvba #nintendo #punchout wii #punch out wii #king hippo #punch out headcanons #punchout headcanons

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niqhtlord01 · 4 years

Text

Humans are weird: Perspective

“You will pay for your crimes you monster.”

Through the swirling clouds of smoke and ash the alien captive glared defiantly at their human captive rummaging through the nearby remains of what had been mere moments ago a peaceful settlement on the colony world of Vargus IV.

The humans had struck at the waning hours between dusk and night when the community were in their habitation units after a long day of work. They came in a collection of strange anti-grav vehicles surprisingly advanced for humans and bearing no markings of identification or allegiance.

The perimeter sentries activated sensing a threat but before they could engage the attackers they were quickly destroyed by precision heavy weapon plasma fire. Their fiery explosions had been the warning call to the rest of the colony of their impending doom but by then there was nothing that could be done.

Within moments the attackers had entered the town square and dismounted, shouting and whooping like monsters of old as they ran through the tight streets in their parade of madness.

Some threw improvised fire bombs and plasma refragmentors through windows incinerating countless settlers as they hid inside their homes while others stalked the pathways gunning down any that crossed their path.

A few of the colonists had been hunters and emerged from their dwellings firing and moving, their prey all the more deadlier. Some of the marauders fell to to the concentrated fire of the hunters, but this only seemed to invigorate the others to commit even greater acts of madness.

At the colonial office at the far end of the town the majority of the resistance had been centered as the hunters gathered what settlers they could and sheltered them inside the sturdy walls until finally the entire settlement was ablaze save the colonial office. Frantic distress calls were sent out from the powerful communications unit inside as the human attackers gathered outside for the final assault.

To their horror the defenders saw the humans lined captured settlers, mostly women and elders, in front of them and prodded them forward in front of their advance.

Some of the hunters continued fighting on but when their shots inevitably hit on of the living shields the other defenders turned on them. Not long after that the raiders had finished off the remaining defenders and stormed the colonial office; dragging what few survivors remained out to the town square.

A group of four survivors remained, now bound tightly in coils while the raiders ransacked the town. Three males and a single female who was bleeding from a weapons fire wound in her right arm. Each of the survivors four eyes frantically switched between the human raiders, unable to decide which would be the greatest threat.

As the captives watched quietly a heavy duty grav hauler rolled into the square. It’s driver compartment door kicked open violently and from it emerged a strangely clothed human. They were clad in a black mesh body glove with a visor helmet covering their face. Combat webbing holding numerous pockets and devices circled across their chest while a thick plasma pistol with the barrel protruding from an alien creatures skull was attached firmly to their hip. A series of knives lay holstered up both legs to their midriff making it appear as if they were covered in scales.

The body gloved human glanced momentarily at the captives before hopping down off the vehicle. A collection of several raiders circled him, all smiling and grinning like mad men.

“Take several bodies and nail them to the walls.” the body gloved man said to one of the circled bandits.

“Any particular position?” the bandit said, their toothy grin still present on their face like a knife wound.

The gloved leader paused for a moment before continuing. “Underline we want is horror and anger. As long as you give me that you have creative freedom.”

The bandit gave a mocking salute and started off down a side street laughing.

The gloved human turned to another of the remaining group. “I want every house looted. I don’t care if it looks like a dirt farmer or a kings mansion, smash it all and take the goods.”

Three more of the group nodded and whistled over some nearby bandits that had been standing by idly. They started shouting and pointing at buildings and scattered like ants throughout the settlement.

It was only after issuing several more orders did the apparent leader of raiders notice the captives hate filled glares. They strode to the first captive and looked down at them. The female looked back at him with a mixture of fear and resentment.

The leader knelt down and held the females face in their hand. She struggled in their grip as they turned her face back and forth as if examining her like a stock animal.

She spat a glob of green blood into the visor when the bandit leader continued to turn her face. The surprise act made the leader stand up suddenly and they raised their hand up as if to strike her before stopping themselves.

“Didn’t anyone teach you manners?” the bandit leader said, pulling a cloth from a pouch and wiping away the blood.

“You slaughter our people and you think you deserve less?” she retorted, lobbing another glob of spat blood at the leader who easily side stepped it.

“You’ll be paying for that.”

With a nod several bandits approached the captives with knives and blades being drawn. The men began looking frantic and began pleading for their lives while the woman continued to glare defiantly.

To their surprise the bandits cut the binds of the three men and stood them to their feet.

“It’s your lucky day fellas,” the leader began as he turned away from the still bound female, “you all get to go free while your friend here pays the price.”

When none of the males made a move, each standing as if they had not heard what had just been said, the leader motioned with his head toward the entrance of the village. “I would get going now; I’m not one for repeating myself.” As if to emphasize the point the leader pulled free their plasma weapon and flicked on the activator rune.

Not needing any more incentive the three males ran down the main street, stumbling over themselves in their haste to get to freedom.

The leader whistled under his visor and returned their attention to the remaining captive. “Real gentlemen you’ve got in this town. Didn’t even plead for your life and sprinted off at the first chance they got.”

“They will live, that is all that matters.” The remaining captive spoke, he words heavy with the knowledge that her end would come soon.

“You would think that, wouldn’t you?”

Before she could ask what the leader meant by that the bark of several plasma weapons rang out. The captive watched the three figures who had been sprinting to freedom be gunned down and torn to pieces. She turned back to the leader, tears running down her four eyes, and shouted “You said you would let them go!”

The drowning mocking laughter of the leader only further enraged the female captive who tried to rise to her feet only to have her legs kicked in by a bandit behind her sending her back to the ground.

“I let them go free from their bondage, but I never said I would let them leave alive.”

The leader knelt down again next to the female. “You see we needed some of the bodies to appear as if you colonists almost made it out alive. The brutalized bodies and looting are one thing but slaughter of fleeing defenseless people will really sell home this was an Itrovian attack.”

At this the female became confused. “But you are all humans, there was not a single Itrovian among you.”

The leader nodded as if she was the student they liked calling on the most because they asked the real questions.

“That relief force you called for won’t be able to tell the difference once we’re done.”

She couldn’t see their expression under the visor but the female imagined the leader smiling.

“Oh yes, we know about your distress call and we didn’t even lift a finger to try and jam it.”

The leader grabbed her face again and forced her to look at the edge of the square. To her horror she saw the dead bodies of settles being nailed to the wall in grotesque fashion by a pair of bandits while a third was cutting their bodies open and using their green blood to draw letters next to the bodies.

Itrovian letters the female realized.

Forcing her to look back at them the leader pulled off their visor to reveal a youthful face. Their hair was short cropped to their skull and aside from their green eyes they appeared indeterminate of which gender they were.

“When your relief force arrives and sees what has been done to you all they will blame the Itrovians. The Itrovians on the other hand will be blaming you for an attack on their colony of Havius IX which is being carried out right now.”

The leader pulled out a long knife from their leg and the female captive saw that it was an Itrovian war knife; the purple metal unmistakable as to its origin.

“After they see what happened to their people and then having your people blame them they will be livid with anger and most likely declare war on your civilization.”

The scope of the madness was on a magnitude that the female captive could not fathom.

“You....you monster.” the captive said, the words barely able to form from her trembling lips.

“Monster?”

Placing a hand on her shoulder the leader shook their head. “We’re the good guys here. Humanity will be safe from the likes of your kind and the Itrovians after this as you’ll be to busy fighting each other.”

“That does not justify your actions!” retorted the female as she shrugged off the leaders hand. “How will the slaughter of untold innocents make you anything but monsters?”

As if somehow the notion struck a cord with the leader they nodded in agreement. “I can see your point,” the leader began pursing their lips as if deep in thought, “it would be hard for you to see us as anything less.”

The female felt the leader grip her should once again and felt their fingers dig deep into her shoulder. She looked up to see a devlish smile cross the leaders face.

“I guess you can say it’s all a matter of perspective.”

The captive was about to say something when a stabbing pain pierced her stomach. She coughed more green blood violently that sprayed across the human leaders face as they continued smiling at her agony.

“After all, everyone is the hero in their own story.”

Through twisted eyes the female captive looked down and saw the hilt of the Itrovian war knife pressed against her chest. With each twist and turn of the humans hand it sent agonizing waves of pain through her entire system as she let out a blood curdling scream.

The human leader left the knife embedded in the still screaming captive and turned to the nearest bandit. With a motion of their hand the captive had a rope wrapped around her torso and she was hoisted up in front of the town square. Her screams still ringing out as she kicked and jerked back and forth attempting to dislodge the knife; her blood running from her wound like a slow stream.

She screamed as the bandits returned to their vehicles,

She cursed and damned them each as they drove away into the night.

She wailed as the final vehicle hovered over the bodies of her dead kin.

Her final sight was of the leader that had caused such destruction leaning out of their vehicle and waving to her as they passed into the darkness of the night.

It was not long after that the darkness consumed not just her and her settlement, but the entire sector in a shroud so dark it would not lift for ages to come.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #story

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aquariusshadow · 3 years

Text

Live!Blogging HSMTMTS s2x6

okay fiiiiiiiiinally ive been waiting all day to watch this.

so from what i've seen...i'm tentatively predicting that my new main ships will be portwell and ricky/therapy

lesssss goooooo

not if you liked them back kourt *wink wink* then its hard for you to see if they like you

oh north high again

i keep forgetting about this storyline

'village idiot'

idk why that made me laugh im sorry

omg imagine a legit group chat with seb and ej tho

someone write a chatfic about this please

portwell sitting next to eachother hehehe

'friendship' *gina looks at ricky* oh boy

asdlfjalhsdfjasdf

"im waiting for a sign" *camera pans to the exit sign*

so everyone that predicted the rose getting a song yall deserve your money's worth

ricky you fought for her to get in the show yet you cant let nini focus on her song for the show

wtf

i need to back this up

ive never done this before actually backing up an episode during a liveblog

"i can't believe you're finally back in the show yet you're spending saturday without me"

RICKY

SIR

MR SIR

WHAT DID YOU EXPECT

she needs to focus

you need to focus

so miss jenn and ricky's dad are finally going on a date

aight

big red and nini convooooooo yesss

i do like kourt and howie's banter

JHLDJAFHLDSJFSDVBXMNSLDHLA

ricky: hey G

gina: *ignores*

ej: *smooth* may i have this exercise

see ricky you cant expect gina to always be there when you treat her the way you have been

poor carlos

hah remember what i said at the beginning of this? thats all i gotta say hehe with kourt and howie

............did

did ricky

spam her literal paragraphs of text

when she has told him she needs to focus

and ricky's freaking out over nini not liking hawaiian pizza

........

this is the type of clinginess that really does turn me off

especially back in highschool

ricky honey you really need some help

man poor ashlynn

ashlynn is going to kill it as belle because she's gonna be sooooooo genuine whereas im sure lily's gonna come off as very superficial in the part

look at ej's concerned expression when gina's struggling in the exercise

the one thing i do like about miss jenn's date so far is i think this is a nice way of getting to know both of the characters more

awwwww the date went well

RICKY

WHAT

SIR

i mean that was kinda funny ngl

BUT

oooooooooooo thats a great answer ej

"i'd ask him if he'd ever love anyone after belle"

but...did gaston ever truly love belle tho

ricky :(

he really doesnt like change does he

im glad the show is trying to address this

awwwww the gina and ashlynn heart to heart

i do love their friendship

omg she confessed her feelings for ricky

she actually did it

this entire time

he knew

and he still

this entireeeeeee tiiiiiiiime

the only excuse he has is that somehow he got it in his mind that he either thought gina moved on from him or ricky interpreted gina's confession as a friendship thing

but still

good lord ricky you need to calm it with the clingy

even nini isnt feelin it

.............

meanwhile lily is still spying

interesting i thought kourt was a gryffindor--although i can see her being a gryffindor/hufflepuff combo hehe

but ravenclaw works too!!!

yessssss ashlynn sing your heart out

and this is why she's going to be an amazing belle

i hate seeing gina in this much pain

yea kourt you be honest!!!

i love herrrrrr

howie drumrolled before her confession

thats really cute

hahaha

i love straightforward stuff like this

the harry potter geekiness <3

i really hope ricky's dad realizes somethings off now since he and miss jenn ended things because of ricky

aight nini lets hear the rose song

so........basically everything i said and thought about rini as a relationship

nini's song confirms it

confirm what a lot of people have been saying about rini

also this song is amazing <3

WE LOVE NINI DECIDING TO LIVE FOR HERSELF

olivia's soprano range <3

yea rip rini next episode

Alright, so. I ship Ricky with Therapy (Rickerapy) and Gina with Happiness (Hapina). That’s my final stance for a while. I’m very curious on where they take Portwell. If Rina’s gonna happen then...I’m honestly not sure how I feel about it? Like I still enjoy the idea of Rina, and it’ll be a lot better than Rini (I think) but...no guy is worth that much pain and heartache Gina’s dealing with.

I guess if Ricky ends up working through his fear of change, learns better communication skills, and accepts/confronts his own feelings a lot better and treats Gina like the amazing person she is and makes it up to her then maaaaaaaaaaybe I’ll be on board with Rina in the end.

But yea, I’m definitely vibing more with Portwell rn.

Also, Nini deciding to live for herself. It’s such a good peak for her arc this semester I’m pretty happy.

Finally, while I’m giving Ricky a lot of shit, as I said in my previous live!blog--I still like his character and everything is very consistent with what we’ve seen from season 1. If anything, I’m really excited to see his arc come to a head and what comes after!

(someone plz write a seb and ej friendship chat!fic)

#hsmtmts #liveblogging!hsmtmts #hsmtmts s2x6 #portwell #i think i might start using anti tags for rina from this point on #dont wanna accidentally spread more negatively unintentionally when i'm just giving my thoughts #rickerapy tm #hapina tm #ricky bowen #gina porter #nini salazar roberts #ej caswell #kourtney greene #ashlynn caswell #ill think more on the tags later on #gina deserves happiness #ricky needs therapy

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