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ato-catto · 1 year

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can I get more piccolo x reader I love him so so sm

Of course! Sorry this took so long ...

Here's a little one shot I had been saving.

Piccolo eyed you with palpable annoyance. Your form had been off all day and your technique sloppy. Your mind was clearly elsewhere and otherwise engaged- not that you would ever admit it.

He stopped mid spar and shook his head in dissapointment, folding his burly arms over his chest. "You aren't thinking before you strike." He grunted, his dark pupils investigating you from head to toe.

You felt slightly offended- but he was right. You weren't thinking out your attacks whatsoever. Your mind was.... otherwise engaged.

See, since become a Z fighter (and therefore Piccolo's pupil), you had gotten to spend more time with him than you ever had before in your entire life. And the longer you spent with him, the more you couldn't seem to breathe the same air as him. Your heart would pound when he touched you during spars, and your brain felt dizzy whenever you finally did get a hit, and he bared those pearly white fangs in determination and pain.

Safe to say, you had developed a crush on your mentor. And now whenever he was near you, you couldn't think straight at ALL.

Piccolo grunted, turning away from you. "If you're going to be like this then quit wasting my time. Go home and sort out whatever going on in your head and come back to me with a clear mind. Got it!?"

"Sorry, Master Piccolo." You sigh, pushing hair out of your eyes. "I just.. I have alot on my mind."

Yeah, you did. Him.

He looked at you with sceptical eyes and folded his arms across his impressive chest. He wasn't exactly buying your weak excuse. "Nice try, but I've seen you be less sloppy the day before a big interview. It's either something really big or you're just plain lazy today."

Ouch. "No, I swear. I'm just sidetracked today." Your ears began to get hot, so you turned away.

He sighed and scrunched up his nose, and looked at you tiredly. He had been picking up on your cues and basic body language all day. "Are you uncomfortable around me? Is that it?"

You blinked. WAAA? H-how did he? No- surely he hadn't picked up on your feelings?

"No." You said, smoothing back your hair and looking out into the open sky. "Not at all. I like being around you."

"If you like someone enough it gets uncomfortable. I may not be human but I know what infatuation looks like." He wasn't making eye contact, and that was making this situation so much worse.

Taking a few steps back, you looked at his towering form with your heart in your throat. Was it really that obvious? "I'm sorry, Piccolo. I.. " You began winding up for a lengthy friendship saving explanation, but he silenced you by turning to face you.

"It's natural." He said, his voice surprisingly monotone. "If anything, it's just an obstacle to furthering your strength and power."

You lowered your head. "I'm sorry-"

He grunted and smirked. "Don't be. I can use that silly human emotion as motivation for you, and help you excel even further, instead."

You blinked, and stared at him. The mischievous look in his eyes was almost scary. "What do you mean?"

"Land 5 hits, you get a kiss. Land 10, I'll go out with you wherever you want. A date, I think humans call it."

Your jaw hit the floor. That devious little-

"Alright. Okay." You breathed, straightening up and sinking into your fighting stance. You were more determined than ever now. You at least wanted a little kiss - you had been dreaming about it for weeks now.

Piccolo grinned menacingly and put up a guard, watching you as you renewed you energy and focus into pummelling him with hard hits.

It took you almost 15 minutes, and you were dripping with sweat, but soon you had counted five blows. You skidded back, panting. "There! Five! You owe me, Piccolo!"

He chuckled and wiped purple blood from his lip. "I suppose I do."

As he approached, his bravado seemed to drop as his ears flushed a lilac tone. His dark pupils softened as he gently and slowly tilted your chin up with his fingers. You watched him swallow, and you could've sworn it was just your hammering heart you could hear.

He slowly brought his face to yours, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. It had the metallic tang of blood mixed in it.

You were caught off guard a few seconds later when Piccolo totally lost control, throwing the wall he had built around himself aside and giving in to the feelings he himself had been feeling for months. He grunted softly and laced a hand into your hair, probing your mouth with his devious purple tongue, making you gasp and whine in surprise. Past the taste of blood, his saliva tasted sweet, and his lips were soft.

Your body felt like it was vibrating, his energy coursing into you, around your nerves and back to your lips and into him. You gripped at his gi, trying to kiss back with a matched energy, but he was overpowering you, his fangs nipping at your bottom lip and making you wince in delicious pain.

Piccolo pulled away, panting, his bottom lip wet with your saliva. "Th-there." He grunted. "You got your kiss. Now get back up. I'm not done with you."

You got into your stance again, your knees weak and eyes hazy. "I'm going for 10 this time." You muttered.

He pursed his lips, his cheeks and ears a deep purple. "You better."

#piccolo x reader #piccoloxreader #piccolo #dbz #fluff #thanks for the request!

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yuniex07 · 3 months

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The Magnificent Century

Ok i've been rewatching this tv drama, and as a sucker for historical stories along with middle east aesthetics and culture...I had an urge to make a sort of adaptation/mix with my current obsession: BG3.

So this is an AU, where the ottoman empire will be represented by the vampire coven belonged to Cazador, ruling and conquering all the regions around Baldur's Gate.

Warning: I'm nowhere near to be a decent writer plus, english is not my mother language soo, I'm sorry in advance. Other from that, this is the draft or prelude chapter so nothing to warn unless you count the inplications of a boylove interaction triggers you somehow ?

In future chapters, if i dont get dissapointed in my ugly writting abilities theres going to be harem/noncon/pansexual/domsub/a little bit of Stockholm syndrome? who knows...

Words: 2151 ( honestly how people can write more than this? i was suffering!)

Pairing: for now Pansexual Astarion/Sebastian later Astarion x F!Tav(Lyanna/Love)

Read under the cut

Chapter 1: A new dynasty

In the year 1492 DR, amidst the intricate streets of Baldur's Gate's upper city, the Szarr Palace loomed ominously. Its gothic spires cast long shadows in the fading light of the sunset, forming an imposing silhouette against the darkening horizon. The palace pulsed with unsettling energy; guards and servants weaved through its corridors, torches and candles flickered along the grand halls, casting dancing shadows on opulent walls adorned with tapestries and gilded frames. The air held a palpable tension, thick with anticipation.

Outside the formidable structure, a figure clad in black leather carried a scroll sealed with crimson wax, imprinted with the family crest—a set of two groups of five rats and five mice intertwined by their tails in an inner and outer circle. The contents of this scroll would set into motion a series of events with far-reaching consequences. Approaching a similarly outfitted man mounted upon a steed that seemed to emerge from the depths of the netherworld, the messenger wasted no time. With unearthly speed, the horse thundered through the palace gates, its hooves echoing against cobblestones as it raced into the night. As the horse and rider vanished into the shadows, the wheels of fate began to turn.

Meanwhile, on a distant battlefield illuminated by the moon's pale glow, a bloody clash unfolded. An elven warrior, his red eyes ablaze with the thrill of battle, charged toward his next target with unparalleled speed. His pale skin was adorned with the blood of foes, much like the white locks that peeked out from beneath his war helm. With a swift swing of his short blade, he unbalanced an opponent, creating an opening to plunge a dagger into the enemy's eye, extinguishing its life in an instant. The elven warrior reveled in his prowess; his pale skin glowed in contrast to his black and red armor. The Szarr sigil on his chest delivered a silver gleam under the dim light. Behind him, figures clad in similar armor finished off the remnants of the enemy's army, their triumphant cheers echoing through the battlefield—a declaration of the Szarrs' indomitable might.

The Dragon Coast now lay under their control, a strategic stronghold for dominating trading routes and, inevitably, the region of Cormyr.

The elven warrior walked toward his tent, three figures following close behind. “Master Astarion,” a young human man said. He had fair skin, ash-blonde hair ending at his shoulders, brown eyes, and a middle-muscle frame. “We are so close to reclaiming the whole region under the crimson’s dynasty. Lord Cazador will be delighted,” the pale elf stood still at the mention of his master and progenitor.

Hearing his name ignited discomfort and fury in him. “To be honest, I could care less about what the old wretch thinks, Sebastian. Remember, we are just mere pawns to dispose of for his great conquests,” the elf said, concealing his annoyance.

“Be careful with your words, Astarion,” another man responded. His right eye was of white stone, scars adorned his face, and he had a rich, deep skin tone. But his more prominent feature was a couple of horns adorning his head. “Or what, Wyll? Are you going to tell the old bastard? Warlocks like you are a pain in the ass, always loyal to their masters,” Astarion said with venom in his voice.

“Just trying to save your sorry ass from another year locked in a tomb,” Wyll replied mockingly. Astarion’s eyes opened, and rage invaded his features. “You come and say that again!” he said dangerously approaching Wyll.

The third figure finally intervened, placing herself in the middle of them. “Enough, you two!” she commanded. The woman had a strong build, clearly a warrior with expertise, crimson skin, one horn on her head, and a fiery gold gaze.

“We've had enough blood and fights for a day. Can’t we just rest and clean up all the gore? You two do look like shit.”

“Say that to him, Karlach!” Astarion replied. “If you weren’t one of the master’s spawns I would’ve kicked your ass long time ago” – Wyll answered.

“That is also inappropriate commander Ravengard; our Lord’s spawns are like an extension of himself. You need to show him some respect” -Sebastian said

“Tsk”- Wyll, let out. “Unfortunately, Leon was the most suited for this crusade, and now I have to be stuck with the sharp-tongued one.”

“Too bad my little brother disobeyed Cazador and had to run away with that kid. Now he is been chased to face something worst to dead if he gets caught” - Astarion says in fake mockery, hiding emotions he dared to not show. Deep down he felt sorry for his “bother”.

“There’s time before the sunrise, everyone go get cleaned while the brigade returns with our war loot, then we will able to discuss our next moves.”- Astarion commanded, as the other three figures nod and turn around to leave him in his tend. Astarion takes off his helmet, unleashing rebellious white curls falling down his forehead, placing the helmet on the war table he begins to unlock the strands holding his black armor.

“I thought I said to go clean up, Sebastian”-Astarion says as he feels the presence behind him. The top side of his armor falls heavily on the floor.

“I know…I just wondered if the master needed help with his bath” -Sebastian replied. Astarion turned around to face him, revealing his chiseled torso uncovered and shimmering by the sweat mixed with a bit of blood, “Is that so?”- He said while raising an eyebrow and a smirk on his face, “Then by all means, help me out with my boots”. Sebastian nodded and kneeled in front of him to begin untying Astarion’s boots.

Once he finished, while still kneeling Astarion took Sebastian’s hair and pulled in a way to make him face him. “Good boy, now…work on my pants, then, you can help me with my bath”. Sebastian just grinned and nodded, “As my master commands”.

Far away from the war camp, the vampiric forces continued to loot the nearby villages, burning houses and reuniting the survivors that could serve as military or slaves. A small group of six people were running from the riot, within them two silhouettes leading them trying to get away by blending with the shadows of the buildings.

The smaller figure among them was sobbing and shaking, “Shh…Hayleen, you need to be quiet or they will find us”, -The bigger figure whispered, trying to soothe the little child. – “I’m scared, sister” – the child sobbed. – “They…they killed adar and naneth”.

The oldest on the pair frowned with a pained expression, she couldn’t help their parents, they gave their life to allow them to run, protecting her little sister was all she can do to honor their sacrifice. “I know! but you have to be strong for them.” - The child nodded and dried her tears with the inside of her sleeve.

The bigger sister peeked around a corner, no one in sight, “Alright, lets go and don’t look back”, they were so close to reach the woods, there was a hidden cabin by the lake deep in the woods, with a bit of luck, a boat might still be there. They could row until they reach Cormyr. “Just a little more, Hayleen” -Lathander have mercy on them, she thought. Suddenly three arrows landed in front of them, stopping their advance, no, was all she could think, “Everyone run!”- she said, while several dark horses and their riders approached them. There was no time, they were going to capture them both if she doesn’t do anything, “Take Hayleen, everyone get closer!”.

“NOO! Lyanna! Don’t leave me!” – Hayleen screamed to her sister as she was hold by another woman. Lyanna enveloped her sister and the other escapees with a sacret light, she never tried this conjure before, but it was her only choice. Her eyes glowed with divine light “Morning lord! lend me your strength! Word of recall!” a light orb surrounded all the survivors but herself, the conjure could only carry five people to safety.

The crying face of her sister was the last thing she remembered, what happened next was too fast, the riders reached to her a whip hold onto her ankle before she could have time to react and give in a fight, the movement of the horse rider made her fall and she was violently pulled a few meters before they stopped, her head hit the ground hard enough to leave her stunned. Her eyesight blurred as she as falling unconscious, the rest she remembers from that night was only darkness.

Astarion was comfortable lying in the tub, eyes closed as the warm water soothed him. “You seem more relaxed now” – Sebastian said as he delicately scrubbed Astarion’s torso with a sponge as he settles in, leaning his head on the pale elf shoulder. Astarion chuckles – “I might be…thanks to the good company”

“And some pampering, as much as the bloody semblance suits you, that helmet did outrageous things to your hair. Now you look back to normal” – Sebastian remarked as he tucked a lock of silver hair behind the elf's pointed ears. “Darling, you wound me! You know I would look fabulous even covered in mud and dirt” – the elf replied moving his hand with disdain.

Both men were enjoying a little peace until they hear a commotion outside the tent, looking at each other they hurried to put on some clothes to investigate the noises.

The night hung heavy over the war camp, shrouded in darkness and punctuated by the distant sounds of looting and chaos. Astarion and Sebastian hastily dressed up with comfortable clothes, knives and swords in hand, the commotion outside growing louder. They exited the tent, senses heightened, ready to face whatever disturbance awaited them.

As they stepped out into the night air, a rider emerged from the shadows, mounted on a horse that seemed to meld with the darkness itself. The steed's eyes glowed an eerie crimson, mirroring the seal on the scroll the rider held in his hand. Astarion recognized the rider as one of Cazador's palace messengers.

The rider dismounted gracefully, approaching Astarion with a deep bow. "My master Astarion, I bring grave tidings from the palace," the messenger said, his voice low and respectful. Astarion's eyes narrowed, a flicker of anticipation in his gaze.

"What news?" Astarion demanded, his tone betraying a mix of curiosity and suspicion. Sebastian stood by his side, observing the unfolding scene with a vigilant gaze.

The messenger handed the sealed scroll to Astarion. The crimson wax bore the imprint of Cazador's family crest—the two groups of five rats and five mice intertwined in an intricate pattern. Astarion broke the seal, unfurling the parchment.

The words inscribed on the scroll revealed the fate that had befallen Cazador Szarr. Astarion's eyes scanned the lines, absorbing the news of his master's demise. The air around him seemed to grow heavier, a moment of silence hanging in the balance.

Astarion's expression remained stoic, but a storm brewed beneath the surface. The messenger spoke cautiously, "Lord Cazador met his end in the pursuit of greater power. The Ritual of Profane Ascension has claimed him. He sought to transcend the limitations of vampirism but succumbed to it. All his spawns are to come back to the palace with ease as a new successor must be selected”

Astarion's grip on the scroll tightened, his jaw clenched. Sebastian placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, silently acknowledging the weight of the news. The rest of the camp, unaware of the unfolding drama, continued with its nocturnal activities.

"My master, by the decree of the coven, you or any of the other male spawns, are eligible to ascend and become the new ruler of the coven" the messenger continued, sensing the shift in power dynamics.

Astarion's eyes flickered with a mix of emotions—grief? No, far from it, it was a thirst for the newfound opportunity, and the power that could be in the palm of its hands.

"Thank you for delivering this news. Return to the palace; tell them I will make my way there immediately," Astarion commanded, dismissing the messenger. The rider bowed once more, mounted his shadowy steed, and disappeared into the night, leaving the camp in the wake of Cazador's demise and Astarion's road for ascension.

Sebastian turned to Astarion, his expression a mix of concern and loyalty. "What will you do now, my Lord?"

Astarion gazed into the distance, the campfires flickering like distant stars. "Prepare for a new era, Sebastian. The throne is mine for the taking, and the coven will bow to its new master."

As the words hung in the air, the vampire spawn contemplated the path ahead—the challenges, the opportunities, and the uncharted territories of leadership that awaited him under the moonlit sky.

#ascended astarion #bg3 #astarion x mc #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 tav #astarion ancunin #lord astarion #astarion x sebastian #cazador szarr #bg3 cazador

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lilisouless · 1 year

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Enought time has passed, this is are my character book vs show opinions , bassed on season 2 only. Personal opinions/taste like always

Like them better on the show

-Alina, i know the comprehesion hurt her screen time, but in concept i like that she is more pragmatic ,even if she messes up. The problem here is the time, but personality wise i do like her show better.

-Genya

-Baghra

-Don't kill me for this...Nikolai

Same ,honestly

Matthias: Like of course i like the book better but show!Matthias hasn't gotten there so is not fair to judge, and he hardly seems any different

Like them better on the books

-The crows on diferent levels, there is Wylan who is the same person only under diferent circunstances (come on, a guy pulling your pigtails is diferent from a guy that already saw your butt) whose only sin was not being good hidden his reading problem, and there is...Nina. The good thing is that they all seem closer in personality and essence (except for Nina,who got key elements taken out) to the book and individually work a little, but they really can't compare with the benefit of having their own story

-Tamar

-Tolya (however, if i hadn't read the version on the books i would have found him very endearing)

-Adrik

-David (but only by little, just because i missed "i create things, i don't destroy them" and was pretty wasted)

It´s complicated

-Sankta Neyar because i haven't read her book

-Zoya,i had talked about show and book Zoya many times to repeat it again, lets just say people sort of forget sometimes that Leigh wasn't always kind to Zoya

-Mal, like Wylan the thing with Mal is that his changes are very dependant on the circunstance and external behaviour, unlike season 1 where there were palpable diferences, this time he is put on diferent scenarios; we don't know how Show Mal would have reacted if put back to the army and on the show it`s Alina telling him she sees the darkling that stops a lot of their miscomunication. I still think Show!Mal has more likeability because of Archie giving him this himbo energy, but book Mal had more changes to get explored

-Nadia, its complicated because you know i am not a fan of her book self, but objetively she was given more to do than in the show (one day i will say everything about the zhabin siblings) so its very complicated because i don't really like book Nadia but show Nadia dissapointed me (blame on the writers obviously)

-The darkling, here is the thing: In the books to me S&S darkling was at his best and R&R darkling was at his worst, and this season happens to combine both which results in his vulnerable moments being more consistent than on the books BUT also way less menacing and so much easier to defeat. He is better on season 1 in comparission to SaB but on this season is making me miss some traits of him on the book (and i don't like him there at all)

This is kind of a shame because last time it was more balanced but this time it leans more on the books.I would love to see people´s opinions or doubts

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mclennonlgbt · 2 years

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How did Paul react to John's rejection with songs?

Whether or not traditional Beatles scholars like it, John and Paul didn’t lose their bond in 1968. Their emotions were still hot, albeit more complex, and they reacted to each other. And since they were musicians, the best way was to write songs. John reacting to Paul's behavior with songs is a known case (see: I'm so tired, Jealous guy, Instant Karma ect.). However, little is said about the fact that Paul also responded with music to John's behavior. Today I wanted to focus on how McCartney reacted to Lennon's rejection (not always romantic) because that seems particularly interesting to me.

JUNK

It had been perfectly described by Better than looking at the mirror HERE. Let's look at the 1968 Lennon/McCartney timeline: Mid-February - The Beatles arrive in India. 26th March - Paul leaves. 12th April - John leaves. After that, he's absolutely mentally devastated and overuses drugs. Certainly, there are a lot of reasons for that, the most important being John's mental disorders which are not treated properly. But also, his relationship with Paul seems to be a significant factor. Something wrong happened between them in India. There are quite a few theories. The most popular is Lennon declaring his romantic and/or sexual affection to Paul and Paul rejecting him (and in a way, John himself suggested erotic tension between them). I think it's possible and I name the second thing: Paul leaving India so early. John was in a terrible mental state, he even wanted to kill himself. And most likely McCartney didn't support him, which left Lennon heartbroken and dissapointed (perfectly valid). However, we are also uncertain whether John made it clear to Paul that he needed help. Probably not, because he believed he and Paul were telepathically connected and knew all about each other.

May 11th to May 16th - John and Paul are in New York to promote the Beatles new company, Apple. There are a lot of audio and video footage of them: they gave the interview to US press on 13th May, they appear on Tonight Show, on Apple press conference, and gave the radio interview to Mitchelle Krause which was later aired on the program „Newsfront” (all 4 meetings happened on May 14th). IMO the negative tension between Lennon and McCartney in palpable. John in frustrated and annoyed and Paul seems evasive and like knowing he somehow fucked up. What's more, on the radio interview John seems to be giving a hint about "forbidden love" for which the public is not ready, and we can hear Paul feeling uncomfortable about it. During their stay McCartney meets Linda Eastman, a photographer he talked a year earlier with. On the final day, he invites Linda to go with him and John to the airport. She does it and takes a few photos of them. John later (in 1970) expressed he felt very uncomfortable with Linda's presence.

May 19th - depressed John consumes LSD, has a bad trip and gets together with Yoko (who helps him to "rebuild his ego"): they spend their first night in John's house and record their first avantgarde album. 3 days later they make their 1st public appearance as a couple. 30th is the 1st day of White Album sessions. And it this gap between 16th and 30th May Paul completed "Junk" (which can be heard on Esher demos). As Paul said about the lyrics: "Sounds like one lover saying “bye, bye” and the other plaintively asking “why, why”, even as the junk in the yard demands an explanation for the urge to acquire something – or somebody – new". It's easy to see that Macca was putting his current emotions into a song. With John commiting to a new lover - who he valued so high that they appear publicly, despite having a wife - Paul might feel like a discarded "Junk" and expressed it. I'm not saying it was the only reason for his low frame of mind at the time but clearly one of the most important.

GOODBYE (here's the official version)

The track, written by Paul and performed by Mary Hopkin, was released at March 28th, 1969. As we can read on Wikipedia, "[the song] was written in a great hurry to capitalise on Hopkin's popularity". It means that Paul wrote in probably in March 1969. And you know what also happened in March 1969? Lennon and McCartney's weddings. Paul and Linda got married at March 12th and John and Yoko at March 20th. If someone read Paul's feeling towards John as purely platonic, they would think that Macca started a new family and it had nothing to do with Lennon. But that's not my opinion. And it's not a coincidence that John decided to got married right after Paul (he organised wedding in a hurry). Both men ended the month with a thought: "We have new life partners now". I'm not implying John and Paul were physical lovers (I don't exclude that option tho) but there certainly was some romantic tension and a hope to push their relationship further, at least from John's side, and I suppose partially from Paul's (sometimes I think differently, let's leave that lol). But it didn't happen. So McCartney is writing a farewell song. "Goodbye, my love, goodbye". I linked a demo of this tune, performed by Paul, and it's interesting to hear him singing: "Far away my lover sings a lonely song and calls me to his side".

DEAR FRIEND and LITTLE LAMB DRAGONFLY

In December 1970 John gave an interview to „Rolling Stone” journalist Jan Wenner; the interview later appeared as the book "Lennon Remembers". John spoke in an unpleasant, even brutal way. It’s worth noting that he was then under the influence of Arthur Janov's primal scream therapy. Janov was a homophobe and John took over his language, insulting with homophobic terms e.g. Mick Jagger and Brian Epstein. What’s more, John harshly criticizes Paul and the Beatles (calling them a „myth”). He says that Paul’s first solo album is „rubbish” and claims that McCartney during Beatle years was a conformist and cared only about the commercial side of songs. Lennon’s complaints are also about Paul being controlling and egoistic.

We can imagine how hurt Paul felt after reading this interview. He was judged very severely: his flaws were exaggerated, and his contribution to the development of the Beatles (e.g. interesting John in the avant-garde or the use of tape loops on "Tomorrow Never Knows") was not even mentioned. It must have been terrible wound and massive rejection of his talent and creativity.

Paul, as usual, poured his emotions into songs. In response to John's poisonous comments, he wrote „Dear Friend”. It’s likely he also wrote "Little Lamb Dragonfly" at the same time (late 1970). Interestingly, Paul decides not to attack Lennon.

In „Dear Friend”, he tries to approach him with understanding. As John's closest friend for many years, Paul knows his insecurities perfectly. He asks: „Are you afraid, or is it true?”. The most interesting line is: „Dear friend, throw the wine, I’m in love with a friend of mine”. It is very puzzling and unclear. Why does Paul use the word "friend" two more times? Maybe he assures John that he is still in love with him? Or maybe there are two friends – John („Dear friend, throw the wine”) and Linda („I’m in love with a friend of mine”)? If the latter interpretation is true, Paul is delicately trying to reassure John that he genuinely loves Linda and his family, so he’s not going to abandon them for John, but they can still be friends. Maybe this is: "We are both happily married and we can maintain platonic relationship”?

IMO "Little Lamb Dragonfly" has darker lyrics and expresses disappointment. „I have no answer to you, little lamb, I can help you out, but I cannot help you in”. Paul sees John as trapped by his negative emotions. As long as he doesn't want to change his attitude, no one else will help him. However, Paul admits that he loves John: „My heart is breaking for you, little lamb”; „Since you’ve gone, I never know, I go on, but I miss you so”. What’s more, McCartney still hopes he and his best friend can reconnect: „You and I still have a way to go”. But for that to happen, both sides have to want it!

„Dear Friend” was released on „Wild Life” album in December 1971. Probably the song influenced John's feelings. Later that month, Paul, Linda, John and Yoko met and agreed that they would no longer argue in public. "Little Lamb Dragonfly" appeared on "Red Rose Speedway" album in April 1973. And that time, John and Paul had a good relationship again.

CALL ME BACK AGAIN

It’s a well-known fact that during „Lost weekend” (John and Yoko’s separation, which covered 18 months between 1973 and 1975) John and Paul re-developed their friendship. They had a jam session in March 1974. Lennon even seriously considered writing songs again with his former partner. Paul also missed his best friend. When John, May Pang, Paul and Linda met in New York in 1975, Macca revealed they are going to New Orleans to record. „We’d like to meet us there”, he told Lennon. John, of course, wanted to go there. He was very excited and wrote the song "Howling at the Moon". Unfortunately, before John and Paul could reconnect, Yoko called and told her husband he could go home now.

It’s obvious that „Call me back again” – a song which appeared on 1975 Wings „Venus and Mars” album – is about that situation. Paul recalls growing up together with John. "Well when I, when I was just a little baby boy / Every night I would call, your number brought me joy" - quite an obvious reference to the teenage years, when John and Paul spent every free moment with each other and loved to talk to each other.

But this song is not nostalgic nor joyful. It expresses desperation and pain.

"I called your house, every night since then / But I ain't never, no no never heard you calling me" - probably a reference to the fact that Yoko was controlling John's contacts with his friends and whenever Paul, Mick Jagger or some other acquaintance tried to contact John by phone, she lied that her husband couldn't come over now. And then, of course, she didn't say anything to him.

"Come on and call me / Ooh boo boo boo babe" - Paul missed John so much! At some concerts, Paul would quietly pronounce his name during the song.

Interestingly, "Call me back again" contains a mellotron that sounds like flutes. Maybe Paul is referring to „Strawberry Fields Forever” intro here???

I know I have only touched on the topic a bit here. I’m aware I have very briefly described the Lennon-McCartney dynamics. Treat this post as a stimulus to your own research! <3

#mclennon #analysis #speculation #essay #the beatles #john lennon #paul mccartney #lennon mccartney #romantic friendship #friendship #kinship #queerplatonic relationship #queer love #love is love #mary hopkin #wings #yoko ono #linda eastman #all these songs are amazing tbh

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quetzalpapalotl · 3 months

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Speaking of the neutrals, it was such a dissapointed that the exRID narrative pushed them aside and eventualy replaced them entirely with the colonists. Althought both are civilian populations that didn't fight the war, they still have very different perspectives and the neutrals brought a lot of the table.

The Tappet cameo in the New Cybertron flashback arc was really good and recontextualizes a lot. But it would have been nice to see more of that in the present. I know it was probably hard for Barber to juggle the Autobots, Decepticons, colonists and humans, but with how this is all about facing the history of Cybertron the neutral absence feel very palpable.

At the very least, I think that during the Unicron arc with how it sort of wraps up everyone's point of view, some neutrals should have showed up to give their opinion on the situation, you know?

#quetzal rambles tf

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attorneys-against-court-violence · 1 year

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Hahahaha, the fatherly dissapointment is palpable.

#dual destinies watchthrough #dual destinies spoilers

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pinkiepiebones · 2 years

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(just silly nonsense) (also more “Copia is bad at slang”)

Cirrus ran in to the office of Papa Emeritus IV.

Well, ‘ran’ is a poor description, as what the Air ghoul did was not so much ‘ran’ as ‘floated, but with haste.’ Still, ‘ran’ is simpler to type. Just know that when you read the sentence “Cirrus ran in to the office of Papa Emeritus IV,” it is the author’s hope that you, in fact, envision an Air ghoul floating with haste.

Cirrus ran into the office of Papa Emeritus IV. The ghoul was in full illusionary glamour and a jacket, appearing for all intents and purposes to be a tall human lady in a costume. She stood with her hands clasped behind her back and waited for the Papa‘s attention to turn to her.

As luck would have it, her timing was impeccable, and the Papa, formerly Cardinal Copia, swiveled around in his plush office chair and dropped his cellular phone on his office desk with a sigh. It must have been some sort of Papal matter. Cirrus was not created to care.

Before Copia could address her she began projecting her telepathic voice into his head.

/PAPA CUMULUS AND EMBER-/

A stern hand raised and a painted eyebrow raised was all the signal Copia had to give the ghoul- it was a signal that somehow told her, “practice your jaw and tongue and teeth and vocal chord articulation, please, and try speaking again.”

Cirrus raised her chin slightly. Focusing and convincing her ghoul form to articulate a working human jaw bone, the correct number of teeth (and teeth of the correct size), a tongue, and some rudimentary fibers to serve as vocal chords, and then convincing her ghoul voice to bounce around on those various things in order to create the auditory illusion of speech was much easier than when such a tall order had been ordered of her and her bandmate siblings, but it was still tricky if she didn’t concentrate.

She blinked her glamoured human eyes a few times and parted her human lips, perfectly glossed with illusion. “Papa,” she said softly, her voice as light and airy as would be anticipated for an Air ghoul, “Cumulus and Ember. Have a new trick. They wish to show you.” She couldn’t help but smirk. she was very proud of herself.

Copia was proud too. He stood and clapped his hands. “Excellent! You sound like you have lungs and everything! A note, though, my dear ghoul?” He made some gestures with his hands, a thing humans seemed to do when they could not properly articulate their words. “You halt a few times in the midst of your sentence. Let it flow, yes?”

Cirrus tapped her chin, absorbing the feedback. “Papa,” she tried again, “Cumulus and Ember have a new trick. They wish to show you.”

Copia smiled and that made Cirrus smile. “Much better.” Cirrus floated slightly, either due to growing tired of being on the ground or reacting to the Papa’s praise, no one knew.

She led the Papa to the band’s practice room. Her siblings where scattered about, doing what Special had called “goofing off,“ except for dutiful Swiss, who was quietly tuning his guitar.

Cumulus was sitting on the edge of the small stage, unglamoured, swinging her ghoul legs, something clutched in her ghoul tail, ribbons tied to her ram-like horns. When Papa entered the room, she hopped to her feet and glamoured up, appearing suddenly to be a small costumed human with a tail. Her excitement was palpable. Ember was nowhere to be seen.

”My dear lioness,” Copia purred, “Cirrus tells me you have something to show me?” Cumulus nodded excitedly.

“Papa, please, watch!” Cumulus chirped. She took something from the bag clutched in her tail and threw it up towards the darkened ceiling. Pieces of popcorn fell to the floor. Cumulus looked at Copia, glamoured eyes wide behind the illusion of a mask, her glamoured mouth shaped into an open smile.

Copia didn’t want to dissapoint his beloved band ghouls but he also didn’t understand and was about to ask when Ember swooped down from the ceiling and landed beside Cirrus. Ember was fully ghoulish, long hair-like feathers obscuring their black eyes. They held out a talon and Cirrus dumped the contents of the bag into it. There was the tiniest spark in Ember’s talon, and suddenly, the ghoul was holding a talonful of popcorn.

”POPCORN!” the two telepathically projected proudly.

Copia snorted, then laughed. “Oh, this is the cutest shit,“ he chuckled. “Really, guys, you are, uh, hashtag so epic!”

Ember shapeshifted their faceplate, stopping about halfway between fully ghoulish and the illusion of a human with a mask, looking instead like a ghoul with a mouth. And fangs. Ember refused to create flat, even teeth. They snaked their long shapeshifted tongue out and used it to snag a piece of popcorn as one might imagine a frog catching a fly (go ahead, imagine it). Ember crunched the snack loudly in their fangs, then stretched their talon out to offer some to Copia.

”Recieve. Consume.” Ember growled, and Copia happily obliged.

”Really, great going, guys,” Copia said, addressing not just the goofs, but all of his ghouls. “You are fo’ shizzle the heppest cat- er, ghouls- and you are super duper talented.”

”Now,” Copia said, “how’s about we rehearse?”

#ghost bc #spooky ideas #papa emeritus iv #the band ghost #ghost the band #nameless ghouls

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thesunsetmeansgoodbye · 3 years

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Alcina Dimitrescu & Mother Miranda

For her, Mother is this scripture she meditate day and night even if she's no merely answer for her mother's kept prayers. Perhaps, almost..

Alcina silently watch Miranda read the files of her recent experiments, the priestess seem to frown inside the golden mask.

“Basically, some died and the rest turned into Moroaică”.

“Yes, Mother Miranda”. She droop her head aside, the hat hides the sight of her Mother.

“I should’ve known. Next time you waste my time, make sure it’s worthwhile. I had enough of your failures, when you supposed be not.” That's all she heard before the older woman takes its leave. And right now she needed a drink.

Another meeting takes over, Alcina sometimes would catch her mother's eyes closed and looking tired. When she open snap them there this no emotion holds it. Lips secretly pressed to each other, she listens to the discussion like an obedient daughter she always were unless Heisenberg nerved to piss her off.

She hates when Mother favors the other lords whom she considered below to her and Mother Miranda, she hates this unnecessary siblings, they barely interact with each other and she would rather it stay that way.

“I put end to this meeting now, all of you may take your leave.”

Every single one leaves the decrepitude church, Alcina caught the glimpse of her Mother and Donna. She looks like assigned to a task but why only give it when the meeting is done? Alcina could only groan. Mother did not assigned her to anything, did she not trust her anymore?

She follow her mother for everything she ordered her to, even in the things beyond her will. Her recognition means so much for her and from that she will do anything, giving all the colors for all the portraits she needed; a masterpiece to offer her Mother. Just, one perfect vessel.

Despite the devotion she holds to the older woman, there's this one exception, and she be willingly fight the world for her three daughters, just like her Mother.. and she hopes, the edge point will not reach where she needs to break an agreement to the priestess when its already her daughters involved.

“Mother?”.

She gently caress the hair of her youngest that was the head is on her lap, gentle smile formed from the ruddy lips of the countess once soon turn into frown, when the thought came of Mother Miranda doing the same thing on the countess like the daughter she always claim Alcina is to her. But it is a thought that is unlikely to happen.

When Miranda visits the castle once in a while, Alcina decorates the table with expensive fine china and foods all for her mother of course along with her famous wine. Even though Mother Miranda looks not to enjoy any of it more than the reports of experiments she overnight do in the dungeons that often ends to be just nothing but a defect.

When they were settled in their table, Alcina couldn’t stop talking like a child who keeps narrating of how great their day went to its parent. She even brought up some memories she cherished from her once human life, her being a singer and her passion for it but Mother just seems to tolerate of all her talks without uttering a single word back and only emptied her own glass of wine and after the feast the priestess would immediately takes its leave. On the other hand, Alcina only smiled helplessly.

Mother Miranda given her everything, the comfort and answers in life. Given the things her true mother couldn’t and her father would never granted. He never wanted a daughter anyway. She secretly suffered in her noble branch but it’s all over now.

And even Mother had given her all of this, she somehow long for an affection of a parent, something that her wine couldn’t remedy.

She tucked herself onto the large bed, as the same time, she murmured some words of comfort for herself some she could remember her true mother used to say to her, it was hesitant but soothing enough. Tears run from the golden sun eyes.

One meeting, she didn’t noticed any signs of its usual intimidating presence of her Mother, her aura seems to radiate happiness she never saw whenever she was with them. Happiness arouse in her too, she wonder what is the reason behind the bliss visage.

“I’m glad to inform all you that I found the perfect receptacle for our dear Eva,”

Eva. Her true child. Mother Miranda told them she have found the perfect vessel to resurrect her child, not to mention that fact its already dead over a century now. She dared not to speak and get any further in her Mother's bad side. She just sit and listen and only speak when ordered or allowed to.

“That's a very pleasant news, Mother Miranda.”

“Indeed, fiica mea.” She placidly smiled at her, and it warms Alcina's heart.

To every task she was assigned to, she do her best not want to dissapoint her Mother. There's no doubt she would do anything, remain to be her Mother's favorite even if she will have to fuel the fire of her mother roasting the other lords.

“B – but, Mother–“

“Stop the attempts to gloss over your failures Moreau, there's no merit it could do upon you, “ The fish man seems to crestfallen from the words but she just stared, after all, she have no care about them but Miranda and her daughters.

Meanwhile, she looked at Heisenberg who seem on other hand was close to scoffing.

“Hah, that really comes from the person who was also covering up his mistake.”

“Pardon?”.

He pinched his nose, before to speak

“You're just flawed as this grotesque freak! Even worse, so stop self-proclaming yourself to Miranda and keep referring us as a failure when it does also count you as one. Fucking accept it!”

“You– take that back you wrenched!”

“Silence!”.

Both of them retreat, but the palpable tension lingers.

“There's no better than another. You all disappoint me in all ways.”

Hate was born for her Mother's dead daughter, she thinks that this is all her fault and she question why the priestess couldn’t just, move on. Why was it always her? Why can’t Mother see her another daughter, that's right in front of her: alive and well, who would be willingly to fill the loss if needed. She often calls Alcina her child and daughter but neither the words felt like were stuffed. Now she sounded like a child, but she couldn’t resist no longer.

“Why isn’t always not enough?”. Her teeth gritted between the words of her misery.

After she had received her Cadou, Alcina's world began to only revolve of her Mother and following experiments in her dungeon. The cold wind and the flakes from the snow wrapped around her when loneliness and insecurity rose inside her well-being as if wants to make the situation for her worse. After all this time, it will always be Eva who occupied her Mother’s most chapters and she didn’t even bother to look over the pages were Alcina is in it, cursive beautifully written that soon tainted by her own sly tears.

For her, Mother is this scripture she meditate day and night even if she's no merely answer for her mother's kept prayers. Perhaps, almost..

She would sometimes pay a visit to her oldest sister Eve, when there's leisure time just to sit beside the grave without words store to utter for the tomb. Mother did not considered to forbid her adopted children to visit the grave, she even neither said anything about it so the other lords she assume didn’t know where it was in the first place.

But mother doesn’t have to know her visits or will she ever care?

She barely knew what would say to the dead, she did know no single prayer. She didn’t even met the child that was taken too early, was she anything like Mother? Is she like anything template of Mother? Or perhaps her father?

“You must had grown beautiful just like our Mother. C– could you tell Mother not to be too hard on me, when you resurrected again? Soră mai mare..” Because even, she could handle all the pain does not mean she deserves it, right?

She made her way to leave as she gets back to the castle.

Mother Miranda sends her a letter once in a while, when she was not able to come to the castle herself because of her research. The letter contain often of must attain task and criticization. She’d pick up some red pen, aimlessly drawing circles on the back of the letter; frowning. It took her some time before she full the entire back of the paper.

She stopped at the peak of the castle, above her was the sky painted in its greyest shade. She started to shred the paper, the pieces season on the white covered ground. She barely see it land because of the height.

“I've had enough of this".

No! Her daughters.. now gone! That damn Winters! Those three bugs who keeps alive her barely beating heart, taken away from her! How!? How could Mother allowed this to happen? Where is she? The roars of the dragon in its hinted despair did she not heard!? Out of all men she's the only person who can understand, it hurts.. so much.

Yet, no presence of power from the Mother she knew stop the gravity of her downfall.

She is confident to think she's her mother’s favorite but she might hinted it wrong however, the proof of the blessing she casted upon her among the others. Castle, eternal life, obedient daughters did she not? How come she couldn’t accept the affection Alcina returned? Wasn't it enough to cease her mother's insurmountable grief? For a child that was no longer here, she barely tolerate all of it.

She sit and watch her.

“Remember from whence you came".

#alcina dimitrescu #mother miranda #donna beneviento #salvatore moreau #karl heisenberg #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #parental issues #a song fic I guess #Alcina being a desperately in need for affection of her mother #In the end she got canonically betrayed

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foolondahill17 · 3 years

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The collective sense of dissapointment is so palpable right now

#15x19 #supernatural #spn #destiel

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spell-card-fusion · 4 years

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Neurotoxin

Admittedly I was acting way too calm about this.

It was a simple meeting after all. After how unprepared we were to deal with The Nine I made a point to actually finish those costumes. It was relaxing actually, if I ignored the discussion that would come after I revealed them to the team. Their agreement to turn on Coil also came as a relief.

There was this feeling though, this feeling that I should feel a lot more tense than I actually am. It wasn’t hard to pinpoint where that feeling came from.

Amy-- Neurotoxin hadn’t stopped staring at Tattletale the entire time.

It made sense that even with her joining the team that there’d be some tension there. I couldn’t tell if they were both dancing around it to have the conversation in private, or if they were trying to move past it. I got the sense however that they NEEDED to talk about it. The last thing I want is for us to fall apart at the last second because Amy and Lisa are bad at actually talking to each other.

Tattletale seemed to catch on to that, because as everyone left she stayed behind.

Maybe it wasn’t the best move not letting me ask her to stay in the first place, because Amy caught on as soon as I did to the use of her power.

The atmostphere in the room was deadly serious. Anxiety so palpable that the single buzz of a fly could threaten to take everything apart.

Not me though. I was calm. Maybe it was the death of the nine, maybe it was the fact that I was finally settling into the role of someone who couldn’t afford not to be calm, but I was.

I spoke up, as softly as I could manage.

“Do you want to talk about it, Amy?”

The way I talked to her didn’t seem to catch her so off guard anymore, just slightly this time. I’d started to think the whole rumour was a blessing in disguise, it had to be if it helped her stay comfortable around me. Had to be if it lead her to joining us.

I felt scared all of a sudden, that I didn’t feel bad about manipulating her like this. It didn’t last long.

‘I’m doing what I have to do.’ I told myself, and I bought the lie.

“Yeah, okay,” Her reply sounded Aceptant enough. She knew this would have to happen. “Should I start or..?”

Lisa was probably trying to give me a signal, but I didn’t need it. Amy believed that if Tattletale spoke first she’d gain the advantage of the situation, just as she believed that if she spoke first she might give away something Lisa could use. It wasn’t a game she could really win, so she stayed around me whenever she could if Tattletale was involved.

She was starting to depend on me for a lot of things actually, and it started to feel natural. Her living with me like this, sharing a territory.

I liked being in control.

‘Stop that.’ I told myself silently. ‘Stop thinking like that’

I settled on the easiest answer. “Go ahead.”

“I don’t- I don’t think- I just don’t-”

“Deep breaths” Somewhere in the conversation we had all sat back down. I lightly squeezed Amy’s hand, and she squeezed back in a far tighter manner. I start to wonder when we got so attached, or why it felt natural.

‘You know why’

I didn’t let go of her as she spoke.

“I don’t feel comfortable around you,” She says, and she sounds so meek for someone who I’ve seen commit murder before. “I don’t know how anyone does.”

I hadn’t been paying as much attention to Lisa I realized. But now looking at her her expression seems unreadable. She has that smile on her face that wasn’t quite genuine, but wasn’t quite fake either.

“If we’re being honest, I feel the same way about you.”

“Don’t- Don’t do this-”

“I won’t,” Her voice comes out sure, steeled I might say if I wanted to sound like a pretentious prick. “Listen. I get it, I really do. I took some sensitive shit and used it agaisnt you, and now you’re in a place you’d never thought you’d be.”

“You said-”

“I’m exercising empathy right now, not picking you apart.”

That gives Amy some pause. “...It still feels wrong. I don’t think it ever will feel okay, talking to you”

“That’s a problem...” Lisa glanced sideways, I turned to see what she was looking at. There’s nothing there. “Because we’re gonna have to deal with each other, a lot. We’re gonna need to be able to communicate without thinking we’re going to fuck with each other’s head permanently.”

“...Yeah.” Amy looks back to me,I realize she’s been doing that a lot. It doesn’t take a genius to take what Amy’s trying to convey to me, even without saying a word.

I spoke

“I’m sorry that there’s no way around this,” Dissapointment, as expected. “And I’ve been where you are before, really. When I was still trying to impress my dad.”

No blood pressure rises this time, I was getting better at rolling with this.

“Lisa’s a good friend, she just did what she had to do so we could get out alive. She’s the reason I’m alive today, you can trust her...”

“You can trust her, but it’s okay if it’s too much to ask to be friends with her.”

More silence, unreadable expressions. Shit, had I fucked up?

“Okay,” Amy starts “Fuck me, guess there’s no way around it. I have to try at least, if we want everything to go as planned.”

Lisa’s smirk broadens a bit. “If it helps any, I look forward to having an actual conversation with you.”

Amy’s quiet..But then she manages a small, fake smile. “Yeah, me too.”

We wave our good byes, and Lisa leaves with a smile on her face. Amy and I are left to our home.

There’s a period of time where we just sit in silence there, holding each other’s hand.

She’s the first to let go, which was weird to me. That was never the case.

“Do you want me to work on your power again?” She takes the initiative to ask first this time. The sound comes as pure sweetness to my ears. There was something addictive about the process, something soothing. I don’t think I could say no.

“Yes,” It comes out way too eager. “Let’s.”

“I’ll be in your room. Don’t leave me waiting?” She spoke with the fear of someone who hated being alone. Again, I couldn’t say no.

It was quiet without her when she left. I’m not sure why I sat there for so long when I had my best friend waiting for me.

I noticed something in my hand, the one that hadn’t been holding onto Amy. A crumpled up paper, how did this get here?

I unfold it to find a note.

I read it.

#worm #parahumans #parahuman series #armsdaughter au #armsmaster is her dad #taylor hebert #skitter #amy dallon #panacea #neurotoxin #tattletale #lisa wilbourn #imp #aisha laborn

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alexius-fr · 3 years

Photo

Chapter 5 - The fires of betrayal

Click the link for the AO3 version, or enjoy below the cut :)

His skin was on fire.

His blood coursed palpably through him, searing hot when Rowan's wings spread themselves out wide. There wasn't enough room in the lair for the full wingspan of the large imperial, but that didn't seem to bother him. His blind eyes darted wildly, the blood magic churning in his veins. Sanguine couldn't move, the power of Rowan's magic binding him in place. It was a haunting experience, yet primal in it's nature, making every inch of Sanguine's body tingle. The sensations and the smell of blood were overwhelming, to the point that Sanguine nearly passed out, bordering on the brink of consciousness.

Vision going dark, he felt his whole body starting to lean more heavily on his legs, head spinning. He tried to signal to Rowan, but he was too caught up in the ritual and did not hear Sanguine's weak whisper, Sanguine's heart slowing dramatically, eyes fluttering shut and his body slumping to the squishy floor. The last thing he heard was a gasp, then darkness took hold.

When he woke, he was covered in something stringy, soft and warm. He jerked his head up, blowing the substance out of his face. It appeared to be Rowan's mane, the hair covering both of them as Rowan had gone for a nap right next to him. Had the imperial passed out during the ritual as well? No, he was positioned too deliberately for that. Sanguine felt strained, his body hurt, a tad cold as well. It was that cold part that made him stay where he was. Rowan was a living furnace, warming him up with his body, that was coiled carefully around him. There was no harm in staying put a few more minutes, recover from the whole ordeal.

Sanguine wasn't exactly sure what had happened, what Rowan had seen or done during the ritual, but he didn't feel different, apart from his weariness. Part of him wondered what had made him trust the ancient Imperial with this in the first place. Why had Rowan wanted to perform this ritual? What purpose did it serve? He supposed he would find out in due time, now that he hadn't actually been killed by it. He hadn't even really considered that he could die during this. And he was a bit shocked to find out he didn't actually care. He could've died, sure. But then what? His clan was rebelling against him, so what harm was there to just disappearing? Then they would finally find out how hard it was to lead a clan and lead it well. They thought Silas could do better? Let them find out the hard way how wrong they were.

But he was alive, and he was pulled from his thoughts of self loathing by Rowan's stirring body, a dismayed moan rumbling through him. Sanguine took a look at the imperial's scarred face, wondering what had inflicted such terrible damage to his eyes in the first place.

“Someone pressed my face into the Wyrmwound.” Rowan mumbled. Had he read Sanguine's mind? “Yes.” “Stop.” Sanguine said, frowning disturbedly.

“I can't.” Rowan yawned, lifting his head. “We're connected now. That's what the ritual did.” “What? Why?” Sanguine asked, worming himself out from under Rowan's coil. “I don't know.” Rowan said with a shrug.

“What do you mean you don't know?!” Sanguine snapped. “I didn't ask for this!” “Nor did you try to stop me. Or ask me what I was doing beforehand.” Rowan frowned with a hint of playful sass. He had him there, though.

“Tch.” Sanguine tisked and turned his head away from Rowan's peering white eyes. He had no answer for him.

“Were you hoping for an easy end by trusting a seedy seer to perform an obscure and possibly lethal ritual on you? Sorry for dissapointing.” Rowan said, his expression intrigued. “But it'd have been a waste of such a handsome dragon.”

“Who dunked your face into the Wyrmwound?” Sanguine asked, ignoring the attempt at a compliment. Rowan rose to his feet, yawning again. He shook his body, his dirty mane dropping several bits of old dirt and whatever else was stuck in there. Sanguine felt a bit antsy, knowing that mane had just been draped over his body. He'd have to bathe when he got back.

“I don't remember.” Rowan replied truthfully. “They're probably dead. At least I hope they are.”

“Or what, you'll kill them?” Sanguine frowned. “And how did you survive being dipped in acid?” “I survived through Her will only. I saw Her great eye blinking back at me under the surface of that horrible pool. It was the last thing I ever saw with my own eyes.” Rowan said, Sanguine intrigued.

“She's been speaking to me ever since.” Rowan leaned in closer. “She tries to speak to you as well, but you deny Her. Deny your legacy. It will catch up with you, wether you like it or not. You can't run forever.”

“But what if I no longer see the point in running?” Sanguine spoke, done caring about how weak he'd probably look if he admitted to his depression. “Or the point of even continuing?”

“So you're just giving up? Why? Sure your brother is rebellious, and your clan doubts you. Perhaps it is a blessing in disguise. Rid yourself of the doubters, continue with only those who are true to the cause.” Rowan said, as if it was that simple. But Sanguine found himself liking the idea, none the less. There wasn't a time he remembered that he was ever without Silas. And going back to face him almost felt stifling, like it was choking him. Would it not be nice to be free of him?

Rowan looked amused. “You are considering it.” Sanguine did not respond, still in his head about it. Rowan cocked his head and observed, wings out slightly so his rune eyes could see. Sanguine looked back at them and found that he was no longer weirded out by their stare, instead finding something strangely comforting about Rowan's presence.

He'd gotten used to the carved runes, the blind stare, the slightly off focus angle of Rowan's head. And beneath that messy mane, and the scars, was a smart, powerful dragon. Wether it had been the ritual or the fact that he'd not experienced physical contact for so long, he felt something drawing him to the imperial.

“Would you like to stay? Just a while longer.” Rowan asked, a warm tone to his voice. “We could talk a bit more. I'd like to know you better.” “Don't you already know everything?” Sanguine frowned. “Your blood, sure. But I'd like to listen to your tale from your mouth. You have a nice voice.” Rowan was hardly subtle, the years of loneliness had likely left him a bit socially awkward, but Sanguine did not mind. Instead, he smiled. “Thank you. I think I would like to stay a little bit longer.”

“I'll get us something to eat. I'm famished after that bloody ritual.” Rowan grinned at his own pun and Sanguine rolled his eyes as he made himself comfortable, but couldn't stop a little smile.

When he left Rowan's lair the following day he felt strangely rejuvenated, energetic. Rowan followed him outside, his wings spread as widely as possible to take in the environment. “It's been ages since I went outside.” Rowan stretched. “It seems the land has moved on, Her influence spreads slowly but surely.”

“It does feel good to be back.” Sanguine admitted.

“Does that mean you'll come back one day?” Rowan asked, a suggestive nature to his question.

“Maybe. If you promise to wash your mane.” Sanguine teased with a wide grin, Rowan pushing against him. “Fine. You may have a point there.” he admitted, blowing strands of hair out of his face self-consciously. Sanguine chuckled, pushing back with affection.

“I will come back.” he promised. “Soon.”

“Good. I'll miss you.” Rowan said, surprisingly honest. “I always thought I would hate having company in my lair, but.. well, I don't hate yours.”

“Just a mild dislike, then?” Sanguine suggested, Rowan chuckling.

“No. I liked it. Be careful out there, and come back in one piece.” he said, with a hint of worry.

“I've faced hotter fires than Silas, don't worry.” Sanguine comforted him. “I should leave if I'm to make it back in time before sunset though.” “Of course.” Rowan said, a little dissapointed. The two shared an affectionate headbutt before Sanguine stretched his wings and prepared for take off. Rowan watched him, echoing a soft roar of goodbye. He watched until Sanguine had become a dot on the horizon, sighing as he walked back into his lair.

It was awfully empty here now, without Sanguine's presence to fill it. But it wouldn't stay empty for long, Rowan smiling as he curled up, magic filling his mind and body with a gentle glow.

The lair was in uproar when Sanguine returned, Silas out front speaking to his clanmates. Khadiyah was next to him, the golden rings that decorated her horns gleaming in the sunlight. Sanguine was intrigued, landing a little bit further away to be able to listen in.

“We were not meant for this. We don't belong here. And to stay here because Sanguine's got cold feet about returning home? I say we don't have to take his leadership at face value anymore. He's been leading us for a long time, not always to the best of results. You know that as well as I do.” Silas preached. “We shouldn't be denied our home because of an old man's fears.”

“Aren't you just as old?” Lethe asked, with a frown.

“We are two months apart!” Silas snapped. “It makes a world of difference. I am clearly more fit to lead. He's old, traumatized, scared. He's outlived his usefulness. We can be better without his melancholy dragging us down.” he spoke passionately, obviously committed. “We do this the way we know how. Like Plague dragons. Because that's what we are. Weakness can not be tolerated. Even if it comes from our leader. Especially if it comes from our leader.”

The other dragons seemed unsure, though some were openly nodding. The fire in the pit crackled hard and cast high shadows upon the rock behind them, coating everything in a hard orange glow.

“Why are you so reluctant to stand up to him? Do you think he will harm you if you try? We are all faster, stronger, better fighters than him.” Khadiyah said, spirited. “He won't stand a chance if we all leap upon him. If we use the strenght of the pack.” She was supported by many, nods and murmurs travelling through the group. “His time is done. Join us, and together we will make a strong clan. A true Plague clan, under new leadership. A fresh start, with a Queen and King who honour our traditions!” she spread her wings and roared, others mimicking her.

Ever a flair for the dramatic, Sanguine decided now was a great time to emerge from hiding.

“Oh, am I interrupting?” he asked, glibly. Khadiyah pulled up her lip as a warning, but Sanguine was focused on Silas.

“Sanguine.” Silas said, surprised. “You're back. I thought you'd left.” “But I've returned, as I always do, to my clan. What is this?” Sanguine looked around. “Gathered to hear the heresy my little brother is spouting? Are you all really so eager to leave?”

“Honestly?” Almediha stepped forward, her gentle voice determined. “Yes. We were promised a new home. A new clan, a stronger clan. The wait has made us all anxious. Why do you even want to stay here?” “There is something here I must set right before I can move on.” Sanguine said. Nobody knew he was talking about Zephyr, and his mother Ziray, of course, but he didn't want to drag them into this now. So he kept it vague. “But we don't want to wait for that.” Azrael said, his gleaming green skin flickering in the light of the fire. Traitors blood.

“They want to go home, Sange.” Silas said. “Just like me.”

For a long, tense moment, the two brothers stared at eachother. Sanguine had taken comfort in Silas' presence from the moment they met, knowing he had someone he could always trust at his back. After all, who better than his own brother to support him? He always enjoyed their snarky banter, even if it grated on him sometimes. Had they truly changed so much that this was the only direction they could go from here? Silas seemed convinced it was, eyes gleaming with purpose, his mate directly behind him, and behind her, their child. He supposed Silas had different priorities now. He couldn't even really hate him for it. But it stung none the less. For five years, they had faced their problems together. But it seemed that time was at an end.

“Go, then.” Sanguine said, the words grave out of his mouth. “I don't want to fight you over this.” “Because you know you would lose.” Khadiyah hissed.

“No. Because I don't want to hurt the one dragon that has been at my side through all of it, despite his reluctance to do so. Despite his rebellion. You are still my brother, and I will not turn to fratricide. If you must leave, if that is what you really want.. then go.”

“Wait, you're not going to fight me on it?” Silas asked, taken aback. “You're right. I'm old. Tired. If you think you can do better, please do.” Sanguine said, shaking his head. “But I'd like to walk away with my life. Survive, adapt, overcome. I need this as much as you do. Perhaps to grow we need to go our own separate ways.”

“..Yeah. Perhaps that's true.” Silas agreed. “Well.. I guess, goodbye then?” he still seemed baffled, unsure how to hold himself.

“Goodbye, Silas. Lead them well.” Sanguine nodded solemnly, turning around. He retreated into the lair under the baffled stares of his clanmates, the silence respectful and stunned. This was not how anyone had expected this to go down. They were expecting a fight, or even just an argument. But Sanguine was done giving others what they wanted. He felt relief at the realisation that after tonight, nobody would be depending on him anymore. He could do what he wanted, truly, for the first time in many years. It gave him a sense of freedom, listening to his former clanmates leaving, The sound of their wings slowly disappearing into the night.

#fr #flight rising #fr lore #flight rising lore #my lore #fr lore dragons

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lovelessmotel · 3 years

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Lumberjack!universe - the first time they try phone sex 🥺

(not me writing this like a whole two months after mads sent me this!) (also im on mobile and cant do a read more, but nothing too smutty, just lots of flirting and nsfw implications!!)

“I feel like this would be a lot sexier if you weren’t on a landline.”

Howie laughs on the other end of the phone, the speaker making his warm voice slightly tinny.

“I’m not on my landline right now, I’m on my cell just for you.”

“Just for me? I’m flattered.” Maddie leans back against her pillows settling in to the covers. It’d been a long tiring day at the call center, and she had been excited when her boyfriend rang her up to chat, and even more excited when he asked the age old question. “So, should I tell you what I’m wearing?”

Howie hums gently on the line, and Maddie can almost see him scratching at his beard. “Only if you want to.”

“A t-shirt and sweats, which I hope isn’t too dissapointing.”

Howie clicks his tongue. “Hey, you’d never dissapoint me. And, sweatpants are sexy. Atleast I think so.”

Maddie smiles, his sweetness just as palpable over the phone. “What about you then?”

“Not to one up you or anything, but I-“ Maddie hears him take a breath and shuffle slightly on the bed. “-am only wearing pants right now.

Maddie smirks. “So no shirt? Cause that is something I’d love to see.”

“Would you like a detailed description or would you prefer photographic evidence?”

If he was there in person, she’d smack him on the arm. Then again, if they were doing this in person, things would be very different.

“I think you know which one I’d like best.”

Howie laughs again, and Maddie can hear the phone being lifted away from his ear and somewhere above him. After a moment or two, she feels her phone buzz in her hand with a notification. Before she can look, Howie is back on the line.

“I aim to please, Miss Buckley.”

Maddie shakes her head, putting him on speaker and swiping down to pull up her notifications and open her message.

“Oh yes,” Maddie thinks, eyes on the photo as she blushes furiously in the dark of her room. “You certainly do.”

#madney #oh boy lumberjack au i miss her

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ithisatanytime · 3 years

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Hip hop doesntt work that well in cyberpunk, sure some hip hop is fine, and it has a sort of edge that highlights the punk aspect, but most of the music should be outrun or other electronic music... its fucking cyberpunk. it will be ten out of ten game of the year for a few weeks as the journalists (shabbos goys) rave about it, but after a month the peoples dissapointment will be palpable. its already started with people calling it a buggy piece of shit (it certainly is) but gamers bitch about a game for being buggy for the same reason leftists bitch about bad movies for some minor PC infraction, they arent smart enough to know why they dont like a thing, and even if they were they arent smart enough to express it properly. games in the bethesda catalogue are widely considered the best of all time, the fallouts (not 4 which cyberpunk 2077 will mirror in how critics will rave about it despite the wider audience despising it) the elder scrolls series, all buggy messes but the bugs arent the first thing people talk about when you bring them up. when they say its buggy they are speaking more about ineffable qualities of cyberpunk 2077 which make the game trash.

from what i saw, i like SOME of the dialogue, they got down the way a cyberpunk protaganist should talk as far as being snarky and edgy, but it lacks that noir element that makes cyberpunk good. red dead redemption had the same problem and its one of the most glaring flaws in the game. the cowboy genre, film noir, sixties samurai films, and cyberpunk when they are good, are all good for the same reason, the main characters speak bluntly about general truths that are potentially offensive, seriously thats the whole goddamn appeal. but you cant do that nowadays so instead you get a cowboy outlaw like aurthtur morgan who is conflicted about being a bad person, despite being perhaps the most liberal pussy of the late eighteen hundreds, championing womens sufferage and gay rights, fighting racism, etc. its not that these things are bad, its just hes supposed to be an outlaw cowboy with a guilty conscience. at the very very fucking least make him a racist womanizer for the first half of the game and then make it part of his character arch where he sees the error of his ways and tries to get some.... REDEMPTION. but you cant do that now, you cant even hint at the truth anymore, and thats why the only good art is made by small groups with a shoe string budget and not from the jewish establishment media. i cared VERY little about cyberpunk 2077, new by feel it was gonna be trash from the start, but i wanted to point it out, because everything with a budget these days is trash because it needs a stamp of approval from lying jews to get funded. everything.

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mandaloriangf · 4 years

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you know what fuck it alternate last jedi scenes

not fully thought out but roll with me

were introduced to luke as rey tries to give him back the lightsaber. his face is full of sadness and there is an air of palpable loss. he pushes it back into her hand, closing her fingers overtop of it. they have some dialogue, where she pleads to be trained and he declines, referencing the loss he experienced the last time he taught force users. she pleads again, trying to emphasize the necessity and drastic situation witu the force order. luke doesnt answer and instead asks her how she found him. rey responds that a few droids, and commander organa helped her. luke visibly perks up at the mention of organa, and quietly asks "...Leia?". Rey nods and replies "She misses you. R2, and Threepio too." Luke sits down, and motions for rey to join him, and she does. Luke stares out over the sea towards the horizon. Almost wistfully, he begins to speak. "We trained together, once. Leia and I. She took to it like a fish to water. We had to stop, though. Force training.... It takes time. Time she didnt have. The galaxy needed her, still needs her. Theres always a place for women like her, strong, devoted, determined, focused. Always somethin that needs doin, needs fixin." He pauses for a moment, staring off into the sea. "...Theres no place for people like me anymore. Not out there. Im a relic of the past, just like the temple here. Past its time..." He looks over to Rey. "The battle youre facing, it wont be easy. Whenever shadow falls over the galaxy, it spreads. Fast. And it doesnt let go without a fight. You, Leia, your friends... I hope you're prepared for a war, because thats what theyll give you. And.... I can't send you into somethin like that unprepared. Couldn't call myself a Jedi otherwise, not that theres anyone left to care. I'll train you, as best i can, make sure you have a fighting chance." As he says this, Rey grins widely, and excitedly goes to hand him the lightsaber, but his face becomes stern. "Only in the force though. No lightsaber training." Rey goes to protest, that she has to know how to fight the first order, but luke repeats himself. "No. Thats my one condition. I'll train you, for Leia, and for the light, but I wont train you with the saber, not now and not ever." His expression is one that brokers no arguments. Looking dissapointed, Rey agrees to his terms, and Luke lightens up, and now you can see some of the luke of the original trilogy luke in him. Rey gets her own room, and Luke trains her in the ways of the force. She has noticeable strong points and weak spots. Shes a natural at aspects of using the force on people. She excels at using the forces connections to people, to persuade like in the interrogation room, but luke shows her other aspects of it as well. It is revealed that during her fight with kylo in tfa, she unconsciously tapped into this ability and used the force to bolster herself, to sharpen her senses and reflexes, and to use the force to predict kylos attacks, and that it was triggered by her worry for finn. Luke further explains that through the force all things are connected, and noticing her natural inclination towards force connections, encourages her to try and see if she can use the force to see someone. luke explains that its easier with people you feel a strong bond and connection to, and as rey meditates, we see the screen pan to finn, before hes awoken from his coma. Rey frowns, and murmurs to him "I promise I'll make this right for you, Finn" and, as if in response, we see Finn stir slightly, but doesnt awaken. She then visits chewie, who is working on the milleniun falcon with poe, and then to Leia, who senses Rey and smiles towards her, knowing that shes found luke and that theyre both okay. Afterwards, Luke explains that most of the study of the force focused on its ability for combat, and that reys talents could have uses even he might not know of, foreshadowing the use of the force to heal in TROS (rn im leaning towards force healing and force inspiration being finns primary talents, and finn healing poe).

Sometime during the night after training with luke, rey has another dream, similar to the one when she held anakins lightsaber. We hear a familiar voice repeat "Rey... these are the first steps..." as the camera pans through the island towards a secluded location. Another night, rey decides to find it, and follows the path in her vision, until she finds someone in a cloak. As she approaches, the figure turns towards her, and pulls down the hood, revealing ewan macgregor!obi wan, in the outfit he wore as ben on tattoinne. they have some small talk, and obi wan says that while he understands lukes reasoning, its important for rey to know how to wield her saber. rey asks what he means, because luke wont tell her. obi wan recounts the betrayal of ben solo and how he became kylo ren. rey asks how he knows luke, and obi wan replies that he was the last of the jedi, and that he trained luke as he trains rey now. rey notices his use of past tense, and how that would make him even older than luke now, and yet he doesnt look it. obi wan replies that the universe is out of balance, and that those that have passed may return through the force, if there is a need for it. From then on, as luke trains rey in the force, obi wan trains her to use a light saber at night. During the montage we notice that while rey starts off strong, she eventually starts to struggle with the saber, and gets frustrated. Obi Wan explains that the wielder and the saber must be as one, and that the saber chooses the wielder. In confusion, rey asks "Didnt it choose me?" referencing her vision in tfa. Obi Wan explains that the saber is old, and that it was calling out for someone, and that rey heard it, but its true wielder is someone else. Obi Wan then explains that to continue her training, she must forge her own light saber, and explains what that entails. Rey seems excited at the prospect, and her background as a scrapper is put to use. She makes the handle with ease, using bits and pieces of scrap around the island, and seems pleased with the result. The handle is inelegant, but not ugly, and while cobbled together from various pieces, there is a kind of unity to them. It more closely resembles reys staff. The final piece is kyber crystal, retrieved from within the jedi temple. While Rey journeys through it with Obi Wan, they talk, and Rey comments on how familiar obi wan is, despite never having met him before. Obi Wan smiles sadly and remarks that she reminds him of someone as well. Long ago, the jedi werent hunted down, and he had to flee into hiding after losing everything dear to him. He tried to settle down into a normal life, and met someone and started a family, but their child was force sensitive, and drew the attention of the empire. His family was split apart as they fled, and he never saw them again. Luke, to him, reminded him of the family he never got to have, and now he is reminded once again...

I have no idea how to continue from here, but heres some key points

-Rey Kenobi babeyyyyyy that was always my fave theory. Obi Wan never got to raise his children, and they lived their life unaware of their force sensitivity. They eventually had rey, but her own force sensitivity drew the attention of the first order. They left her on jakku to keep her safe, intending to return, but the first order killed them before they could

-FINN SKYWALKER anakins lightsaber chose him, but because of age and neglect, could only weakly call out. Rey was the first force sensitive who touched it, sparking it to life. After finn used it in tfa, it yearns to go back to him, and fulfill its destiny of restoring balance. Both finn and the lightsaber cast off their dark past to restore balance and justice to the galaxy

-Some nice scenes with obi wan and luke, and some with leia and luke. its a damned shame they didnt interact more in the sequel trilogy.

-Snoke abuses reys force connection ability, as that is also his talent, and uses kylo to block and antagonize rey

-Most of reys training is interspersed throughout the movie as the pov changes between her, finn, and poe

-lots of references to the last jedi so the audience thinks it could mean different things, until the end of tlj, where finn finds out hes force sensitive and the heir to the skywalker legacy and lightsaber, and that its him who is the last true jedi

-i didnt watch tlj or tros so i have no idea what happened in those movies to reference those plot points here, sorry (unu)

-TLJ is interspered with scenes of kylo bein a nazi fuck and plot build up for him and snoke being the anatagonists of tros

-disney pay me for the emotional damages i suffered from knowing r#ylo happened

OMG i really really really like your way of explaining that the lightsaber actually calls to finn

#long post #tros spoilers #sw spoilers #submission #star wars

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