#source: willie muse
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Jaune: *Telling Yang and Weiss about their travels*
Jaune: And when we arrived in Kuroyuri where everything became, as the French would say, pants-shittingly terrifying.
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“Good morning starshine... the earth says ‘Hello!~”
#musings.#volo.#tiktokers are just really using this clip on a lotta cat videos gjdfkfgjflkgld#this line gives me Feelings tho volo wise...#like i think he'd say it unironically and not goofy at all fffffffffff#even tho the source is goddamn willy wonka being unhinged
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𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫
warnings - oral ( fem receiving) , handjob, unprotected sex ( don’t be silly wrap that willy ) sex on camera.
Pete finally got home after tour, it’s been. six months and you decided to surprise him, “Baby?” he asks from the front door “ In here!” you say and he runs to the living room. He wraps his arms around your waist and kisses you on your nose “what’s that?” he asks looking at the couch behind you. “a present” you giggle and he raises his eyebrow before walking over to the wrapped present, “what is it?” he smiled and you shrug “gotta find out.” you smile before watching him pick it up and shake it around, “ be careful!!” you say and he chuckles before tearing the wrapper off. his eyes light up and he picks up the cam corder, “there’s something else for you” you bite your lip and walk over to the bedroom. “is it lingerie ?” he laughs and follows you, You stayed quiet as Pete marveled at the fancy gift, holding it up to his face like he was testing how it looked through the viewfinder.
“Gorgeous,” he said, peeking out at you. “I think I found my muse.” You scoffed and covered the camera with your hand even though it wasn’t charged. “Plug it in and we’ll see how it works later,” you said. he places it down on the counter, You giggled as he pinned you down on the rug, peppering kisses on your cheeks. “peteee,” you groaned. He finally stopped, hovering over you. “You’re such a spoiled brat.” That made him grin even more. He pecked your lips chastely, then sat back on his knees. You scrambled to stand up and grinned. “Stay there, alright?” He nodded and you disappeared into the bedroom Hidden away in the nightstand was a glass trinket box you’d thrifted a few months ago. It was shaped like a heart, with little gold foil embellishments. You couldn’t leave without it. You knew the real gift was inside, but you still hoped that Pete would like the box. Pete was fiddling with the camera when you stepped back into the living room, trying his best to plug it in to charge. When he saw you, though, he smiled and sat down on the couch, waiting for you to join him. “It isn’t much,” you insisted as you handed it over. “I hope you like it though.” He smiled and nudged your cheek with his nose. “Are you joking? This is adorable. I love it. I’m gonna keep all my important stuff in here.” You smiled and shook your head. “Babe, open it.” He looked sheepish as he lifted the lid, then his expression softened. You watched with a fluttering in your chest as he lifted the chain from the box. It took months to save up for real gold, and then for the pendants after. Two initials— his and yours. “If you don’t like it, I can take it back and get something you actually w—“
He cut you off with a quick kiss that made your head spin. “It’s perfect. Best gift I’ve ever gotten, hands down.” He was quick to put it on, smiling over at you. “How do I look?”
You pecked his cheek. “A million bucks, babe.” He leaned in and gave you a real kiss— deep and intense. You smiled against his lips and melted into his touch. You’d never loved someone the way you loved him.
“Wanna know what’s crazy?” He said after he pulled away. You nodded and he gestured towards the bedroom. “I bought you something too. Stay here.”
You sat patiently as he got up and hurried into the bedroom. You heard scuffling and the sounds of moving drawers until he returned, holding a wooden box.
“Your gift is inside this, by the way,” he teased as he sat back beside you. You watched him with anticipation until he flipped it open and your heart stopped.
“So, uh, I got you jewelry too,” he said softly, or maybe your ears were just ringing. Inside the box, nestled in the middle of a tiny silk pillow, was a diamond ring.
Like, a diamond ring. The kind you get married with. “That’s—“ He nodded. “Yeah, it is,” he said, grinning ear to ear. “Will you marry me?”
you put the ring on and kissed him like he was your one and only source of oxygen. It felt like it anyway— that if you parted from him even a little you’d cease to exist.
“Yes?” He asked, smiling nervously. “That’s a yes?”
You kissed him again. “It’s a yes, Pete. I wanna marry you.”
———
Pete forgot about the video camera in the excitement of the engagement. Because he had to call Patrick’s hotel and let him know, and then he spilled the news to the boys, and suddenly it felt like everyone knew.
After hours and hours of catching up and celebrating the day, you and Pete were left alone in a quiet house.
“So… the future Mrs. Pete Wentz…” you turned and rolled your eyes at the sight of Pete holding the video camera that had been charging all night. “Anything you want to say to the camera on the night of our engagement?”
“How do you know I’m not keeping my last name?” You asked as he got closer, putting the lens right in your face. You giggled and ducked out of the way as the lens came close to knocking against your nose. “You’re such a child.”
He grinned. “Alright, give me something to remember this night by. For posterity, baby.”
You smiled wickedly at him before lifting the hem of your shirt, flashing your tits at him and the camera. By the time you lowered your shirt back down, his mouth was ajar. “We are never showing anyone this video now.”
You grinned. “Nuh-uh, baby, this is all for you.” You raised your brows in a challenge and stepped into the bedroom, leaving him to hurry behind you with the clunky machine.
He stood in the doorway, camera focused on you as you slipped off your blouse and skirt. The whirring of machinery inside the camera indicated he was zooming in on your tits. You stifled a laugh at the noise as he zoomed out again, taking in all of you.
“Strip for me,” he directed behind the camera. You gave a wry grin as your thumbs slipped behind the waistband of your panties and dragged them down your legs slowly. “Fuck, you’re so sexy. Gonna put on a show for me?”
You settled on the bed on all fours, back arched as you crawled towards the headboard. Pete groaned at the sight, breath shuddering as you flipped around and spread your legs for him. Without needing instructions, you slipped one hand between your legs and let the other move to your chest, kneading your breast between your fingers.
He moved from the doorway— the magnetic pull of you too much to resist for long. He settled at the end of the bed, the camera so close it made butterflies swell in your tummy. He moved the camera to your hands, one between your legs, teasing your clit and dipping into the pool of arousal at your center, and the other toying with your nipples, the shiny diamond on the engagement ring glinting with each small movement
“Christ, baby hold the camera—“ he said suddenly, passing it over to you. You laughed as he practically threw it into your hands and you had to scramble to turn it right side up.
You laughed as he tore off his clothes, probably popping some buttons here and there. “Pete, what are you— oh!”
Without hesitation, Pete buried his head between your thighs, moaning at the taste of your juices as he lapped at your pussy. It was a struggle to film him and enjoy the moment, especially since you had to watch him through the viewfinder. But something about capturing something so intimate on film made a thrill run through you.
“Fuck, Pete—“ you moaned, being more vocal than you normally would for the camera. Fuck the neighbors, honestly. It was your engagement night! “Your mouth feels so good, honey.”
His hazel eyes peered up at you, at the camera, framed by pretty long lashes. His lips formed a seal around your clit and he sucked lightly, making your legs tremble. Your free hand moved to his hair, tangling in the soft locks as his mouth elicited gasps and moans.
A slick sheen had formed on the tip of his nose, his mouth, and chin from his ministrations. The sight made heat bloom in the pit of your stomach. His eyes fluttered closed as he lost himself in you— relishing in your sounds, your smell, your taste.
A light pat on your thigh was his wordless signal for you to move and accommodate him more. You acquiesced, spreading your legs as much as you were comfortably able to, and he let his fingertips tease at your center.
“Relax for me, baby,” he said, his words vibrating against your clit. He gave the bundle of nerves a light kiss before he looked up at you. “I’ve got you. Just…” He pushed his middle finger into you and you moaned low in your throat, instinctively pushing back against the intrusion. “That’s it. Just like that.”
He was always so gentle with you during foreplay— taking his time to really explore every single spot that he knew made you tick. You shuddered as the pad of his finger pressed against a particularly sensitive spot within you. He knew you like the back of his hand— probably better. He slid a second finger beside the first, coaxing moans and gasps from you as he gave all his attention to your clit and g-spot.
Your thighs trembled as you fought the instinct to close them around his head, the stimulation bordering on too much. The softness of his mouth on you, the press of his fingers against the most sensitive spot inside— making you cum was simply too easy for him. You barely had time to gasp out a breathy “I’m cumming—“ before your orgasm hit you. Your walls gripped his fingers like a vise as he worked you through it, muttering praise against your cunt before he withdrew his fingers completely.
You stared at the ceiling, trying to find your breath. “C’mere. It's your turn,” you said with a grin.
Pete simply shook his head. “Not done.” He moved his mouth back to your cunt, this time without the hungry ferocity. You sighed at the sensation, your legs twitching when the tip of his tongue brushed against your clit. His movements lost purpose with each pass of his tongue until he was practically making out with your pussy.
Your head fell back against the pillows, soft gasps slipping past your lips. Pete moaned against you as you tugged his hair, a furrow forming between his brows. So utterly lost in you that he hadn’t even noticed that he was rutting against the bed for friction.
“C’mere,” you said softly. He pressed a final, wet kiss to your pussy before resting his head on the plush of your thigh. Your stomach flipped as he licked his lips, chasing those last remnants of your taste. He pressed a soft kiss to your belly before crawling up to meet you.
The kiss you shared was hungry and slow. The camera was shoved to the side so you could put your mouth on his— tongues meeting, the tang of your arousal and his spit flooding your senses.
A low moan escaped his lips as your hand snaked between your two bodies, where you took his length into your hand and stroked slowly. His mouth fell open, a small furrow between his brows.
“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. You smiled up at him innocently and let your thumb glide across his tip. A full-body shiver overtook him, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. Pete was easy to love all the time, but especially when he was needy. “Switch spots with me.” When you furrowed your brows he nodded towards the camera. “Please?”
When he sat back on his heels, you moved from beneath him and let him settle with his back against the pillows. You were slightly annoyed that he had control of the camera, because goddamn. His thighs were bowed out slightly, cock resting against his stomach. The sight made your heart hammer as you straddled his thighs.
Pete took the camera back into his hands, a wide smile on his face. “Alright, just do what you were doing,” he instructed. “Left hand though.”
You glanced down at your hand and smiled softly. The engagement ring— your engagement ring— glinted up at you. You spit onto your hand and Pete groaned at the sight.
“Haven’t even touched you yet,” you teased.
“Don’t let me stop you.” His voice wavered, revealing just how needy he really was.
He cried out the moment your hand wrapped around his length, head tossed back against the headboard. His cock pulsed in your hand as it glided up and down, aching for more. You leaned down, spitting onto his tip, giving you more slickness to work with.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his chest heaving. You moved your right hand to his balls, kneading them as you focused your attention on the head. “Jesus, look at that fuckin’ rock, huh?”
You rolled your eyes and chuckled wryly. “That’s what you’re thinking about? Not— y’know— the handjob to end all handjobs?” To prove your point, you twisted your hand and let your thumb glide over his slit. He practically whimpered, bucking into your grip.
You redoubled your efforts, relishing in each desperate, whiny noise you were able to elicit. He was getting close— you could feel it in the way he throbbed in your hand, and hear it in the desperate pants and moans passing his lips. Before he could finish, you slowed your pace and let him come back from the edge.
He sat there, arm slung over his eyes, just catching his breath. “Earth to Pete?” You teased, placing a kiss on his tummy. He made a low noise in the back of his throat and took another deep breath.
“Okay, I’m good,” he said, a breathy laugh escaping his lips as he finally lowered his arm and looked at you. “Just needed a minute so I didn’t—“ You giggled as he mimed an explosion, completely unabashed about the effect you had on him.
He grabbed the camera and placed it on the bedside table, doing his best to angle it just right. “Alright… wanna take a ride on the Wentz Express?” He patted his thighs with a smug expression and you groaned in annoyance.
“Pete.”
“Fine. I’ll be so cool. I’ll be totally normal. But just know… you’re marrying a loser.”
You rolled your eyes good-naturedly as you straddled his thighs. “I wouldn’t have it any other way… most of the time.”
He stared up at you like you hung the moon, all doe eyes and heart-shaped pupils. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, tender and slow, and you hummed contentedly at the feeling.
“I love you,” he murmured against your lips. He moved one of your hands from his shoulder and down to his chest, where his heart thumped steadily. For you.
Your own heart lurched in your chest as a swell of emotions overtook you. “I love you too, Pete.”
You reached between the two of you, taking his cock into your hand so you could position him at your entrance. You breathed slowly through your nose as you sank down— the prep and attention he had given you made the stretch comfortable and bearable, so all you felt was the pleasurable full feeling that he gave you.
Once you were fully seated, you gave an experimental roll of your hips. A moan escaped you at the feeling— as each tiny movement made delicious electricity run along your nerves.
He sat up fully, his chest pressing against yours, holding you firmly against him. “That’s it, baby,” he groaned, cutting himself off to plant wet kisses along your jaw and throat. “Feels so good. Love the way your pussy feels around me.”
He cried out as you began to ride him in earnest, not caring how thin the walls of the condo were. His hands gripped onto your hips and dimpled the plush skin there as he began to meet your thrusts with his own. With each movement, you could feel him getting deeper until you could practically feel him in your guts.
“Pete,” you gasped out, meeting his gaze as he fucked up into you. The sound of his name seemed to spur him on.
“Say it again,” he demanded. “Touch yourself while you do,”
You whimpered at the tone of his voice, snaking a hand between your bodies to toy with your clit. Your limbs felt like jelly as he continued to fuck the life and brains out of you. “Pe-Pete, fuck, baby,” you cried between the hiccup-y sobs of pleasure that were punched from your lungs.
“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so tight. Not gonna last like this.”
“Don’t,” you managed. “Cum for me. With me.” You leaned in and kissed him in a way that felt like more saliva than lips.
When you pulled back, he nodded, forehead pressed against yours as you both worked each other over the edge. Your vision was spotted with pinpricks of light while he worked you through it, his moans distant in your ears.
You were both panting, nearly tacked together with sweat as you came down. You chuckled lightly as you tilted your head to look at him. “That was one hell of a celebration.” He intertwined your fingers and placed a kiss on your ring finger.
“And we have the rest of our lives to do it again, and again, and again, and ag—“
You shut him up with a kiss. You figure that for the rest of your lives, that’s always going to work.
It does.
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These are the Muse Brothers. Their biological names are George and Willie Muse. They were two albino brothers;
In 1899 they were kidnapped as boys in Truevine, Virginia by bounty hunters and were forced into the circus, labeled as “freak show” performers.
Their owners showcased the brothers in circuses where they were exploited for profit in so-called freak shows. The Muse Brothers became famous across the United States as “Eko and Iko”, the “White Ecuadorian Cannibals”, the “Sheep Headed Men”, the “Sheep Headed Cannibals”, the “Ministers from Dahomey” and “Ambassadors from Mars”.
George and Willie were forced to grow their hair into massive “dreadlocks“ which together with their white skin and bluish eyes were exhibited as rarities. They were also billed as “Darwin’s Missing Links” and “Nature’s Greatest Mistakes”.
The boys were not permitted to go to school, neither were they paid for their work. They were literally kept in slavery.
One of their owners had found that George and Willie harboured the ability to play any song on almost any instrument, from the xylophone to the saxophone and mandolin, and that made them even more famous and more valuable ‘assets’ to owners of travelling circuses. However, after all this time, their illiterate mother had not ceased looking for her boys.
In the fall of 1927, the brothers were on a tour with Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus to Roanoke, little did the boys know they were coming home from which they had disappeared nearly three decades back.
It came to their mother’s attention that the The Greatest Show On Earth was in town and she was determined to find them. It was a tough decision to confront the Ringling Brothers who were powerful multimillionaires who also had the attention of the heavyweight politicians and law enforcement agencies.
Their mother tracked them down and eventually found the boys working for the Ringling Brothers circus and surprised them while they were on stage and their family reunited, 28 years later since they had gone missing in the very same town. The poor and powerless black woman stood up to police and big shot circus owners and successfully took her sons home.
Source: Africian Archives
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🔥 Tim Burton (him as a person or his aesthetic, your choice!)
"Beetlejuice" (1988) reminds me a lot of another film I watched recently; "Tombstone" (1993). Sold by an aesthetic and a FANTASTIC performance from a side character, audiences were conned into loving a mediocre film. I'm not Lindsey Ellis, so don't expect me to talk about the cartoon.
"Batman" (1989) and its sequel is proof that Burton will not be giving up his aesthetic for God or money. Gotham is heavily disconnected from both the film and its source material, with little reason other than its director. There's a reason no one calls these "Keaton's Batmans," they call them "Burton's Batmans." Jack Nicholson is great as The Joker, but that's no hot take. The hot take is that Devito is too horny as The Penguin, and it makes me uncomfortable for a film that's already so sexual.
"Edward Scissorhands" (1990) is a bitter, bitter film where artist finally meets muse. Not, like, in the plot, but in the production. Depp and Burton were made for eachother... or at least that's what I'm supposed to think. This movie's just too messy, however, and can't decide where its focal point lies and leaves me wishing I had just watched "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" (2000) instead.
"Sleepy Hollow" (1999) leaves me, a fan of the original text, I know that's probably a weird thing to say, miffed, even if understanding. Outside of some pacing issues, it's a bold reimagining that feels like Burton attempting to get out of his comfort zone... but I just didn't need this story to be turned into an homage to B-horror. Go watch that Disney short, eh?
"Big Fish" (2003) is his best film. I am hardly qualified to speak on it, and even if I did, I would cry. So, you know, just go watch that shit.
"Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" (2005) is destined to be compared to "Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory" (1971), and why wouldn't it? In thirty-four years since the making of the original, not a single person worth listening to said "i need this done right," including Burton himself, which is why he tries to add so much, but no amount of additions changes the fact that he casted his muse instead of someone who could, you know, act like Wonka? So, you know, destined for failure and to be loved by everyone who won't watch movies made before 1987.
"Corpse Bride" (2005) is one of only two claymation films that Burton would actually direct, and he uses this time to steal a Jewish story and make it less Jewish. I don't like the ending or the songs and it feels like it could be cut in half and achieve the same effect.
"Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street" (2007) literally doesn't have the iconic opening number from the stage play??? Overall, there's rarely a pairing of source material and director that works as well as this one... If only I enjoyed the source material, eh? So dark, so bitter, so edgy, so... nothing. I never think about this movie. When I do, I think of Mrs. Lovett's dream sequence and remember the good old days of "Big Fish" (2003) when Burton liked to use color.
"Alice in Wonderland" (2010) is one of my guiltiest pleasures in all of film. It is the reason why every time Disney announces a live-action remake, my ears perk up. If all of them were as wild, unhinged, original, creative, and inspired as this one... Well, I think Disney might not be fucking bleeding money right now. No one ever even mentions that it's a sequel to the original animated film. A SEQUEL, not a remake. Sometime movie-goers surprise me with how little they think.
"Frankenweenie" (2012) blows. I don't care how unique it is, I do not like it.
"Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children" (2016) is one of the funniest remnants of the teen dystopia genre. Like, it hardly applies, but is trying SO HARD that it's unbelievable. Also, props to Mr. "Black People Aren't My Aesthetic" for casting Samuel L. Jackson as a dude who eats white babies. (I do not mean that.) Seriously, this is proof that Burton, as a modern director, should no longer be taken seriously.
"Dumbo" (2019) is AAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHA I FUCKING HATE THIS DUDE HOLY SHIT
If I didn't mention, I haven't seen it. Yes, I know I skipped some big ones. I may watch them one day, but I am in no rush.
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"Your smile is beautiful. I want to see it more often..." + Rulie?
Reggie sighed as he wiped his hand over his face wondering yet again why he decided to take up photography. There were only so many flocks of geese and sunsets to capture on film right?
He was kind of stuck on his final project which had the topic Everyday Beauty-the subject matter was up to im but time was running out, and he honestly wasn't sure what he could shoot.
"Why don't you just take photos of us?" Bobby joked. "We're hot shit!"
"That is actually not the worst idea," Reggie mused. "Taking pictures of the parts of us that we don't see as beautiful, but show inner beauty!"
"Okay, I was joking but that sounds amazing Reg," Bobby said, clapping him on the back.
Reggie took up his camera, and planned each shot, asking each of his friends to pose for him, showing off the parts of themselves they felt the most insecure about. They parts they had been mocked for, or felt ashamed of. No holds barred, but Reggie would let them choose what they did.
A shot of Luke, shirtless, proudly showing off his top surgery scars.
A close up of Alex's hands, covered in callouses and holding a bottle of Ativan.
Bobby hugging Celia, the flag to the Philippines held between them.
Willie sitting on his skateboard, clutching his cracked helmet in one hand, and the key to his childhood home on the other.
Flynn with her hair in it's natural state-no braids, no weave, but a brilliant smile on her face.
Carrie standing by herself, a blurred crowd all around her, face frozen in a silent scream.
Reggie even took a picture of himself; capturing the rosacea on his cheeks, the freckles on his nose, and the crooked grin that had been the source of shame for so long.
He only hit a wall with Julie.
"It's stupid," she muttered. "I know it's a stupid thing to be insecure about."
"What is it?" Reggie asked.
"My smile," she said. "Kids always made fun of the gap, about how it made me lisp when I was younger, always whistling at me."
"Is that why you never smile for us?" Reggie asked quietly.
Julie nodded. "And I know you guys wouldn't make fun of me, but it's so hard to make those voices go away, to believe anything but the negative."
"I get it," he replied. "I suffered through years of braces and a retainer and I hated smiling with either one. But you know what I did?" Julie shook her head at him. "I smiled more. If I made it seem like they couldn't bother me, they stopped trying."
Julie giggled at that, releasing her smile, and Reggie held a hand to his heart.
"Your smile is beautiful. I want to see it more often..."
"Stop!" Julie protested, but now she seemed unable to stop smiling, bright and beaming.
"Can I please take a picture?' Reggie asked. "Maybe if you see yourself the way I do you'll finally realize how beautiful you really are."
"That's the point of your project isn't it?" Julie asked.
"Pretty much."
"Okay then," Julie agreed, letting Reggie pose her against a flowy curtain, leaning towards him and unleashed her smile once more.
Reggie took a moment to take her in, and was sure his hands were shaking as he lifted the camera. Taking picture after picture, capturing Julie as she smiled and laughed, and finally pulled him in for a picture of the two of them, faces squished together, their smiles filling the frame.
Reggie didn't submit that one, instead printing it off and it lived on his nightstand, and it was that pose that they recreated on their first date after he aced his project, after they got engaged a few years later, and again at their wedding.
And Julie's smile was big and bright in every single one. Just as beautiful as always, just like her.
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Fic: My duty
Short description: Colleague's words willy-nilly bring Mercy Dawn back to the past — a sad event in 2020, about which even Dawn prefers to remain silent.
Warnings: death, mentions of dead bodies, blood loss, shooting, injections, limbs and their absence.
Author's note: I'll try to be brief. I've been writing for a long time, but this fanfic can officially be called my first piece. I would like to pay tribute to the @ask-the-becile-boys blog and its moderator, which became the source of my inspiration. Dear Muse, you are my muse. Don't judge me. My friend forced me into writing this pun.
Translator's note: Guess who :)
Just wanted to wish you to enjoy the reading and also remind you that all claims for the translation are provided to @alreorem. It's my first time doing Russian to English translation so don't judge me too harsh, please. Just DM me and politely point out my mistake if you find one. Thanks for understanding! <3
-------------------------------------------------------
Dawn, laying on the dining table, diligently tried to sleep, but something, or rather someone, interfered with this important, urgent matter.
Soroh: Dawny~ Ten more sheets~
Dawn: Nope.
Soroh: Hey! Don't even think about shoving everything on me!
Dawn: What do you mean by ʼeverything'?! There's a little left!
Soroh also looked tired. So much that he couldn't argue with his colleague and only pressured her with a clouded look. Next to them was a thick stack of documents that could scare any inexperienced worker, but Dawn and Soroh are old-school people, and this amount of work was a little less frightening.
The game of peepers was interrupted by Flint, who placed two mugs of water right in front of the noses of the sufferers. For an hour, he watched his barely alive colleagues, who seemed to have lost their last convolutions on half of the paperwork. Recently, they ended the argument about the correctness of filling the documents, and if earlier Soroh still took up the alteration of papers, now he quickly gave up, agreeing with Dawn and her 'It'll do."
Dawn: OOOH! Boiling water!
She cheered up and began to warm her hands. Coffee, tea, sugar weren't brought so often, their last joy was hot or cold water, though all sorts of impurities felt terribly wrong. They even tried to mix it with a tasteless parody of food, but they quickly regretted it. And sometimes Dawn managed to get vitamins. And even for such merits, Soroh still couldn't calm down.
Soroh: Work first.
Dawn: Am I even not allowed to drink?
Soroh: Exactly. No, I mean, are you serious? After boiling water, you'll stop thinking at all!
Dawn: Actually! As an assistant, you should do all of this. Look at me. In my youth, I was left alone with all the work.
Soroh: ... In the youth. And what period of life are you experiencing now?
Dawn: Old age Soroh, old age. So be kind, show respect for old age and finish everything yourself.
The woman lay down on the table and stretched like a sleepy cat with her arms and legs extended as far as possible. Soroh, on the other hand, didn't share Dawn's enthusiasm, shoving her leg with force.
Flint: Old age? And how many years have you been working here?
Dawn: Well... It's been four years already.
Flint: But that's only one year longer than Soroh..
Soroh: It depends on how to look at this situation. Dawn is the only one of my good acquaintances who has worked at Industries for more than three years. Though... There are also quite a few silent people, and I had no business with the authorities.
Flint: For real?
Dawn: ... Don't even look at me.
Flint was genuinely puzzled. He knew that Industries wouldn't let go of its wards, but then where did ordinary workers who had worked for more than four years go? The only outgoing person of the trio was Soroh, and Flint shifted his gaze to him.
Soroh: I've heard rumors about... a large-scale incident. Someone talks about an explosion that caused the release of green matter; someone talks about mass liquidation ... A lot of rumors can be heard, but I don't know what to believe...
Flint looked at Dawn again, hoping to see at least the slightest clue in her facial expressions, but she was already sitting, finishing her work and no longer going to take part in the conversation.
Dawn: ...It's not something you should know.
-
THREE YEARS AGO
_
Pylartes: Look. I need you to rewrite it on new forms and put it in piles. Oh, and write down two people with the best performance for me.
The day began quite ordinarily. It'd seem that only yesterday Dawn managed to deal with all the paperwork, as she was handed a mountain of new documents. And where do they get so much paper from, so that later they can rewrite it all! Mercy had a lot of resentment about her work, even with a lot of experience and a year of work, she had never received confidence in operations in Becile Industries.
Dawn: As you say...
The woman already knew that it was useless to argue with this position, at least with Pylartes. Not even an hour had passed before he hurriedly left the laboratory, not bothering to report whether he would return today or not. But Dawn wasn't upset by her loneliness, she only made herself comfortable, throwing her leg over a nearby chair.
This could have continued all day long, if not for a sudden interruption in the system.
After blinking a couple of times, the lamps went out, and the buzz of the working devices subsided. The last thing that stopped working in this room was Dawn, who was still finishing the sentence from memory. The main problem here is that in the dark the words climb on the lines, or even worse, on other words.
Only after the dot was put, the girl looked out into the corridor, which was also immersed in darkness, only a couple of anxious voices came from the direction of the Archive. The electricity was cut off in the entire building, which was actually strange and could only speak of an unforeseen situation. Pylartes would definitely warn about this, even though he was quite forgetful.
While Dawn speculated, the workers quickly fell silent as they returned to the workplace. Mercy, too, could have returned to her office and shy away from work, but she had two strong but poorly sealed refrigerators that couldn't withstand a long lack of power.
At her usual pace, Dawn cleaned up as much as possible, closed the laboratory and headed to the mechanics she knew. They didn't talk much; a couple of times she brought them a hematocrit centrifuge for repair, and a couple of times they came to her for medical help. Quiet guys, however, they weren't the only quiet ones. She hoped that they have at least some information or ideas on how to keep the cold in the cells.
Her vision took a long time to get used to the dark, only her hearing helped. As she was approaching the turns, the clatter of steps in front became duller, and on the sides, on the contrary, freer. Dawn never considered darkness to be something terrible, only her own sounds were alarming, which rapidly spread through an absolutely empty space.
Entering the workshop, with eyes already accustomed, Mercy looked around the room.
“Absolutely empty”, played in her head again, she was already nervous.
The place was quite large, and the guys could just relax somewhere far away or even in a warehouse. Dawn took in more air in her chest to call for one of the workers, but when she realized how loud she'd be in this place, she quickly changed her mind and preferred a quiet inspection.
She didn't have to be here often, but each time everything was different. Details that differed from each other in shapes and sizes; sheets of various kinds of metal, which sometimes didn't fit in the workplace; even the tools were constantly changing their position. It seemed that all this was completely out of order, or maybe all these things were just abandoned in a hurry.
Abandoned in a a hurry...
She felt uncomfortable. And why the heck would she think that? Although, it was really too quiet for anyone to be here.
The door from the warehouse was wide open and after listening for a couple of minutes, Dawn concluded that there was no one after all. It was at least not safe to enter a place full of heavy, unknown objects, and Mercy wasn't a fan of looking for adventures on her adult head. It remained to assume that the guys left to solve problems in the system and soon everything would work. She can go back.
The noise began to reverberate down the corridor. At first, Dawn was even happy that someone was coming in her direction, but the longer she waited, the more anxious she became. One step grew into five, and five into twenty, and twenty into a hundred. The whole space was filled with the sounds of the march, which only became louder.
Dawn stepped back at one of the tables and leaned against the wall. Even if the heart began to throw out portions of adrenaline, but her mind was clear and ready for rational action. Mercy knew what fear can lead to and was especially well aware that in stressful situations, the brain tries to intimidate you even more. There may be a less creepy explanation for all this than the imagination betrays.
Or so she thought, until she heard a powder pop. Her body stiffened, followed by the thoughts that had just shouted: “Run! Hide!”, as if they themselves didn't expect a shot that marked the beginning of a terrible show.
The march played with a distraught orchestra, where every instrument was for itself, and the death was the conductor. The hail of lead was accompanied by flashes and the more often they sparkled, the more lives were taken.
Quickly realizing that disaster was rushing in her direction, Dawn fell on her knees and moved to the very depths of the table. One hand helped her body to stay in tension, and the other closed her mouth, so that the trembling didn't take possession of her body.
What a pity there was nothing to close her ears. In addition to the shooting, aggressive exclamations fear-filled screams and the last wheezes of people were heard. Only one word sounded louder and clearest, in which confidence and despair lived. That word was “Move!”.
It was over as quickly as it had begun, but Dawn was hesitant to move.
It turned out to be not in vain. Slow, haughty footsteps scoffed, echoed, first down the corridor and then in the workshop. Her jaws chattered as Mercy diligently watched her breathing. Her lungs were filled to the brim with oxygen, and then very slowly deflated, almost suffocating. The only thing that differentiated her from the floor was the rumbling of her heart. The blood pulsated through the vessels, causing her body to be thrown whether into the heat or into the cold.
Her thoughts began to get confused from an overabundance of noise in her body, thinking only about how to silence everything. In the meantime, the steps were getting closer, clearer.
They stopped only when they were near the table, right above her head she was afraid to raise. What if they've already seen her and are just just playing with her now? Waiting for Dawn to raise her cowardly eyes?
Time dragged on, and thoughts only swarmed in an already noisy head. An unknown person went to the pantry and only then left the room. For a while, their footsteps reverberated through the corridor, and even when they were completely silent, Dawn continued to draw them in her mind.
It was no longer possible to sit under the table. While everything was quiet, it was worth returning as quickly as possible. With the utmost care, Mercy looked around the room and gradually got to her feet. A slight feeling of relief spread throughout her body, involuntarily increasing the trembling. No longer feeling her own weight, Dawn hurried to the exit, where only a small part of the incident was seen.
The emptiness was filled with dead noise. If someone else were in the place of the girl, then their fantasy would clearly play out and begin to reproduce scenes from creepy movies with zombies or other creatures. But the woman was too old for that.
Dawn is a doctor, but the last thing she wanted at the moment was to do her duty. The chance of saving only her own skin, among possibly living bodies, was so attractive, just not to become part of the fresh cemetery.
And then, muffled wheezing. Only it was able to stop Dawn. Her legs simply refused to go any further.
Someone behind her back was alive, but she didn't dare to turn around. Someone who so desperately needed her help was very close, but Mercy also wanted to survive. She, not only as a doctor, but also as a person, couldn't drop her oath and hurried to the workshop for a first-aid kit. What a stupid decision.
Her mind cleared up immediately, and it was followed by insanely clear actions, like a machine performing the same program. Unfortunately, Dawn knew all too well how ruthless the hands of watches can be.
It was easy to find the alive, but wounded victim among the corpses. She tried to be quiet, discreet; but in addition to wheezing, panic betrayed her. According to the old habit, Mercy quickly began to act, completely forgetting about someone else's fear.
No sooner had she approached the girl than she jerked back sharply, making a sound that would have sounded like a scream if it had not been for her broken voice.
After inspecting her from top to bottom, Dawn could already clearly see the spots of damage. Of course, most of the bullet wounds were on her prostheses, which replaced almost all of her limbs. The only part that was made of flesh and blood was the left hand. And it was what bothered Mercy the most.
Dawn: Calm down, I'm a doctor.
Her hands rose up on their own accord in a conciliatory gesture. Even though a fragile thread of trust was stretched between the girls, the fear didn't go away. Mercy helped the girl sit down, simultaneously asking all the important and necessary questions for the doctor, to which she only nod or shook her head. She didn't even try to speak.
The only visible injuries were two bullet wounds: one through in the humerus (biceps brachii muscle) and one blind wound, all signs that the bullet went straight into her shoulder joint.
First of all, she tried to stop the bleeding. If a tourniquet could be applied to the first wound, then the second had to be covered with a pressure bandage. The woman forcefully squeezed the fist of her prosthesis, the grinding of metal and heart-rending groans were heard.
Dawn: Hush, it's okay, you're doing fine.
The doctor spoke without hesitation in order to somehow calm the wounded girl. Everything was supposed to stop as soon as possible, as soon as the light returned, the incident would immediately be made public. Everything will end soon, she will live.
Her hands reached for the first aid kit. Doubtfully, but among the adrenaline, insulin and other drugs in the form of a bottle, it was painkillers and another pack of bandages that were pulled out.
Dawn: Bear it just a little more. Soon the pain will end.
By injecting the drug and starting to fix the shoulder, Mercy was finally able to afford unnecessary thoughts. The manner of thinking developed by time and continuous work did not allow to be distracted or think about something else during operations or medical manipulations.
The burning determination to help someone else quickly faded as Dawn looked around. The bodies simply disappeared into the darkness of the corridor, which seemed endless. In addition to the wheezing of the wounded girl, the space was filled with an all-consuming silence. It seemed that in the abyss Mercy could hear the beating of someone else's heart, but it wasn't true.
How long will she have to go to check on everyone? Will there be any point in doing it? Examining the surroundings, she noticed that severe and fatal wounds were striking. Even with non-working prosthetic legs and a wounded arm, the girl was really lucky.
“Are you... One of ours?”
Apparently, the drug began to act. The girl no longer gritted her teeth and seemed relatively calm.
Only the question squeezed out of the girl's chest stuck in Dawn's head. ʼOf oursʼ? The only thing Dawn was sure of was that she was an employee of the Becile Industries. If there are so-called ʼoursʼ and ʼnot oursʼ among the workers, then Mercy successfully passed by the sorting hat throughout the year.
The victim saw the doctor's confusion and simply brushed off her silent question.
“Go away... You mustn't get into it.”
The girl forcefully closed her dried eyes, took more oxygen into her chest and threw her head back. Pain and anxiety gave way to fatigue. Whatever her fate is, it was inevitable. Is that why the girl let go of Dawn so calmly? The only living person willing to help?
Still, Mercy didn't know what she was getting into, and the weight of the adhering dirt was already weighing on her body. Dawn had a lot of questions, a lot of variations in the development of events: maybe people with guns would come back and kill them, or maybe others would come and fight back? But everything revolved around one word ʼmaybeʼ.
The likelihood that no one will know about her presence is so big that the most sensible decision was to leave. To just run away, and as soon as possible.
Dawn rose to her feet in an instant and disappeared just as quickly into the darkness. Without hesitation, she slipped into the darkness and disappeared like a vision. And the wounded girl had nothing but to peer into the void, looking for the outlines of a long white robe. She still had hope. No one in their right mind would want to die, especially here, especially now, especially alone; but the poor fellow had already let go of his bird.
There was nothing to wait for and her eyes began to close. Her eyelids were heavy, either from fatigue or from drowsiness. She can take a little break, just a little.
“Hey! Now's not the best time to sleep!”
It was a woman's voice. Is Dawn back? She's really back! The tall silhouette appeared as soon as it disappeared, holding a box filled with tools.
Dawn: So listen here. Let's take off the dentures and I'll carry you. Whether I'm 'yours' or 'their' is my problem.
The girl looked at the doctor with a sad look, clearly regretting, sympathizing, but didn't contradict.
At the moment, Dawn was bothered by too many questions to which she clearly wouldn't be able to get a concise and clear answer. If everything was thoroughly simple, then their own wouldn't kill their own, as in a slaughterhouse.
The doctor began to detach the robotic legs and, sensibly assessing her physical abilities, removed the functioning arm. Prostheses can always be replaced, new ones can be attached. There's nothing wrong with losing one of them.
Without the metal, the victim was quite light, the only discomfort was in carrying her around. Dawn had to improvise and use her doctor's gown so she was able to fix the girl on her back.
Looking at the bodies more closely, Mercy noticed the metal, too. On their legs, arms, eyes, mouths, necks, you name it. Did they all really need these prostheses so much? Yes, they can be useful and comfortable, but to lose tactility, a healthy part of your body to just put them? Dawn didn't understand this. Jaw prostheses were at least impractical and deprived the mouth of the simplest functions. And somewhere the weight from the metal was completely distributed incorrectly, from which the spine suffered, and if only the arms were replaced, then the legs could also suffer. The doctor could reflect on this for a long time, reluctantly finding more minuses than pluses. Dawn didn't understand this. Jaw prostheses were impractical and deprived the mouth of the simplest functions. And somewhere the weight from the metal was completely distributed incorrectly, from which the spine suffered, and if the arms were replaced, then the legs would also suffer. The doctor could reflect on this for a long time, reluctantly finding more cons than pros.
Dawn: Why do you all have these prostheses?
The girl didn't react to the asked question, as if she didn't hear it at all. She didn't look around. At the very beginning, she buried her head in her shoulder and diligently covered her eyes, just not to become a witness to what had happened again.
In the meantime, the bodies were running out, a couple more steps and everything would be left somewhere behind. If she's lucky, then in the upcoming future, Dawn won't have to regret either her actions or decisions.
Dawn: Usually I ask for the name right away, so... Can I know it at least now?
Such a simple question turned out to be unexpected. The reluctantly wounded girl raised her head, but the corridor was already empty. If she doesn't look back, the terrible life episode will seem to be over.
“Alice... Just Al--...”
There was a sound. Dawn was ready to run, but then her brain stopped her. She quickly came to her senses. She stood and listened, waiting for the noise to repeat.
A sound, or rather a murmur, came somewhere behind, very close. Mercy didn't want to linger, didn't even want to look back, but it was worth checking to find out what the chances of saving a life were. And Alice apparently didn't mind.
It was a ginger man whose hair and face had long been filled with red. The bullet hit the head.
Dawn felt pain near her temple. He won't do it. Too much time has passed. As soon as she got closer, her legs slipped. Something wet and still warm squelched under her feet, sticking to her shoes with a stranglehold. The floor around it was completely flooded.
Without understanding why Dawn untied Alice from herself, placing her in the opposite of her, and set to work. He was still alive, mumbling something indistinct and wasting all his strength just to not lose consciousness. Doesn't he deserve at least a little attempt? And if she manages to stop the blood, then it'll be possible to drag and save two lives.
Staying clean was hard. Her hands smeared in blood every now and then and the funds in the first-aid kit weren't enough to the point of bitterness. She had to use everything that played under her hand. Her own robe was long enough to tear off part of the hem and use it to stop the bleeding.
“Today... ”
Now it was possible to catch jerky words from his slurred speech, but this wasn't a sign of improvement of his condition. The man still didn't respond to Dawn's voice and reacted poorly to external incentives. He was still pale and weak, and a gray-red liquid flowed from his nose.
“... must take them out...”
It was necessary to somehow drag the two victims away and the question wasn't about Dawn's physical abilities, but about the carrying capacity of the robe. She had to go even further back and pull off the clothes of the dead.
“We've been waiting so long...”
Alice was still on Dawn's back, and the man was firmly fixated in a sitting position in a pair of jackets and dragged along the floor. Fully blooded shoes had to be removed.
“Annabel.”
The last word that is firmly ingrained in the walls of this corridor. Everyone knew it except Dawn. Will it remain within these walls or will it disappear at the first breath of wind, as soon as the authorities find new workers? Alice didn't want to believe it, but it would take time before the documents arrived.
Alice: Cyborgs. Industries has done all of this to us...
#becile industries#fanfic#Mercy Dawn#Marian Soroh#Rosty Flint#spg#steam powered giraffe#fanwork: fanfic#Annabel#Adelmar
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WILHELMINA RIVERS (jenna ortegal fc) the odds are in your favor! Please report to your nearest Capitol Agent to be prepped for the 74th Annual Hunger Games!
OOC
Alias/Age/Pronouns/Timezones: lexi/23/she/her/est
Triggers: [REDACTED]
If you had to describe your muse as a canon Hunger Games character, or mix, who would you compare them to and why? Sorry that i have TBOSAS but i have Lucy Gray brainrot currently!!! but!!! i think wilhelmina is a direct product of her district!! so like i think you could lump katniss in too!! she’s not a fighter, she’s a survivor kind of vibe. District 12 is famously the runts of the districts so i think she’s just spent most of her life wondering where her next meal was coming from, keeping her head down around peacekeepers, the skills she has are because of her living situations, yktv!
BASICS
JENNA ORTEGA, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER The 74th Annual Hunger Games are upon us and here comes WILHELMINA “WILLIE” RIVERS! A DISTRICT 12 TRIBUTE. Word around The Capitol is that they’re RESOURCEFUL AND FOCUSED but can also be PESSIMISTIC AND SELFISH. According to sources, they’re NINETEEN and were once described as THE SMELL OF MORNING DEW, RUNNING BAREFOOT IN THE MEADOW, AND DISAPPEARING INTO DARK ALLEYWAYS. What a character! As always, may the odds be ever in their favor!
BIO
Wilhelmina Rivers was never meant to be born. It was a question that was often asked about District 12. “If life was so bad there, why were there still children to be reaped?” She was the fourth child to be born to Rosetta and Wilhelm Rivers. A couple that cared and loved for each other, but never knew if their next meal would be a hearty stew or a singular piece of bread. The Rivers first child, Cedar, was deeply wanted. Hardship always festered in unimaginable ways and what better joy was there than a child? Wilhelm would always bring stolen goods home after long nights in the coal mines, making sure that Rosetta was getting an ounce of nutrients for their child. Then came Caspian. Then Cress. Then there was Wilhelm’s injury. Working in the mines was no easy feat and he often came home with injuries that Rosetta would have to tend to, best she could. Medicine was never her strong suit, but they couldn’t afford an actual medic. Infection set in and two weeks before Wilhelmina’s arrival, Wilhelm died from his injuries.
With Wilhelm gone and an infant on her hip, hopelessness set in for Rosetta. Her boys, her beautiful young darling boys, had no choice but to work. Cedar was already reaping age and had been helping out as he could, but the younger boys had to follow in his footsteps quickly if they wanted a roof over their heads or food in their bellies. As Wilhelmina grew, she was never babied, as one would expect from the baby in the bunch. She was looked at with disdain by her elder brothers, as if she was a cockroach encroaching in their space for simply existing. There was nothing special about her. She wasn’t born a man so her hobbies were limited to sewing, baking, or medicine — none of which she was particularly skilled at. Food was a scarcity in the home, most of which were given to the boys to power them through the day or their mother, so Wilhelmina wasn’t particularly strong.
Her days were spent in the meadow, picking various flowers to bring home to Rosetta or lying in the field, pretending like her life wasn’t a life in District 12. When she’d close her eyes, she could picture herself in The Capitol, wearing the finest silks and eating feasts every night. Some days she would be in a Career district, volunteering herself for the games, and bringing glory to her district. She wished for a bigger life than the one she was dealt. Was it her karma for her ancestors before her? Was it luck of the draw? Everyday she would use her freetime to sit in the meadow, until one day, she met someone. She was older, no more than sixty. Her face adorned with age; creases loving the corners of her eyes and the indents of her forehead. Burning ember for hair, beginning to fade away. Marelann. Wilhelmina never knew her grandparents, it was a rare sight to be able to see anyone grow old in the Seam. Most would die of starvation, illness, or murder before they could see their later years. She tended to Wilhelmina, who she affectionately began calling Willie, as if she were her own offspring. She could sense the spirit in Wilhelmina, a girl who wasn’t able to think about a simpler life. Marelann taught the young girl about herbs and what plants were safe to consume. She was like a compass, guiding Willie towards a life she didn’t know.
Soon, she was able to forage plants she spotted. It was never a satisfying meal, but it kept the growling in her stomach at bay. Marelann went first, her body no longer able to handle the harsh district. Mama came down with the illness soon after. Wilhelmina was far from a medic, but she was able to forage and the following spring, she began her garden. The boys would bring in broths, bread, and medicine whenever they could afford it. It was the first time Willie felt like she and the boys were related to one another, to at least come together for Rosetta.
Willie was no great beauty. Her hair was always cut in a haphazard fashion, never one to prioritize a decent haircut. Her eyes were dull and sunken in from years of malnutrition. Her fingernails were always dirty underneath from being arms deep in soil. But, she had an advantage. She was a single woman, no man in the Seam would want her unless it was for love. Peacekeepers could be charmed, though. A night with her in exchange for medical supplies or better food.
Wilhelmina Rivers. Maybe she was too hopeful, but Willie didn’t think she would ever be reaped. It was all left up to fate. Her brothers should have been reaped before her, their names were in it more than hers combined. She felt her breath hitch, looking around to see if she could make some kind of escape. Pointless. Her hands clawed at her dress, a hand me down from her mother’s closet that was far too bulky against her body. She looked more like a potato sack than a young woman. Willie knew what that meant for her. She was a dead girl walking. She would be almost useless in the games. She just hoped to stay alive for as long as her body let her.
WRITING SAMPLE
[REDACTED]
STATS
Please assign a point 1-3, (1 being little to no proficiency and 3 being high proficiency) to each of the following stats! To ensure your character isn’t “overpowered” make sure that you do not assign more than 20 points for your stats overall.
Deceive - 3
Fight - 2
Lore (knowledge) - 2
Notice - 2
Physique - 1
Provoke - 1
Rapport - 2
Resourcefulness - 3
Stealth - 3
Will - 3
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Eye of the World Prologue - Dragonmount
Welcome and salutations various beings! I broke out this bad boy for the re-read and I feel all the warm fuzzies right now. I definitely have at least 3 different version of Eye of the World, 4 if you count the ebook, heh. A lot of my early books are pretty worn out from reading so this special edition is a really smart purchase. Also the cover design activates my brain in a really pleasing way so it's got that going for it. Oh! It's got a cloth bookmark, too. Pretty snazzy.
Ok so let's go over how I'm intending this to go. I'll post a chapter recap at the top with my impressions and keep all the spoilery rambling and musings at the bottom. I really thought about doing 2 separate posts - one spoiler free and one full spoiler - but I ultimately decided against. It is a re-read after all so I'm expecting most readers to be familiar with the full series. If there's enough interest maybe I can make a separate blog specifically to be spoiler free. But for now, here we are.
I'll post maps and images with notations to go along so we can follow along where the characters are.
Let's get into it, shall we?
Ok so we don't know where the Prologue actually starts, but we know for sure where it ends. Lews left a handy marker for us.
Prologue: Dragonmount
The prologue begins inside a palace that had been a recent sight of battle. A man named Lews Therin Telamon wanders the ruined halls looking for his wife Ilyena, stepping over bodies - including one of a sun-haired woman whose face is frozen in disbelief. Lews catches sight of himself in a mirror and laughs, calling for his wife to come see. Another man appears behind him from a ripple in the air - Elan Morin Tedronai.
Elan knows Lews but it’s clear Lews has some memory loss and Elan asks if the ‘taint already has you so far in its grip?’ Lews remembers fractured things, like not saying Shai’tan and that Elan is known as ‘The Betrayer of Hope’, but he keeps losing his train of thought. He calls for Ilyena once more to come offer their guest welcome. Elan grows tired of this and uses Shai’tan’s healing to Heal Lews Therin’s mind. The pain of it sends Lews toppling over while he writhes in agony. When he can finally move again he sees his wife’s body and screams once more.
Elan calls him Kinslayer and tells him the Dark Lord can bring her back if Lews will serve him. Lews thinks Elan must have slain his wife, but Elan demands he remember and taunts him. And Lews does remember, howling once more as he looks around, recalling hazily his trek through the palace, murdering everyone in it including his wife, children, friends, family and servants. Unable to handle this knowledge, Lews reaches out to the True Source, tainted Saidin, and Travels far away.
In an empty field next to a river he still can’t escape the eyes of the dead. He calls out for forgiveness and pulls on True Source until the power of it consumes him in one searing beam of lightning from the heavens. The earth erupts, spewing magma into the sky and rising up a mountain in its place. The force bends the river, creating an island and when the land settles Elan appears on the island, contemptuously declaring “You cannot escape so easily, Dragon. It is not done between us. It will not be done until the end of time.” There’s a couple of blurbs that follow this prologue, written as if from a scholar looking at past events in flowery language. Both excerpts are from ‘Author unknown, Fourth Age’
Don’t worry for any new folks reading this - You’re not supposed to understand or know what’s happening here! The full understanding comes in later books but by the end of Eye of the World you will know the context of the events and what they mean to the story in general.
I love this prologue so much!! Young me was fascinated by it. It’s so cryptic and bonkers, like who even are these people?! All the terms thrown willy-nilly like RJ is like ‘don’t worry about it, it’ll make sense later’. In modern writing this would probably be such a no-no. You can’t introduce things without context clues, that will turn away new readers! Hahaha that’s what keeps me reading, baby! It feels very epic and mysterious.
Spoilery Bits Below - BEWARE
This got really rambly but I kinda enjoy it that way. What follows is my real time musings all mashed together into a loosely organized list.
I love all the tantalizing bits we get about the Age of Legends. Lews having worn the ring of the Tamyrlin and once summoned the Nine Rods of Dominion. I wonder if that ring was what the current Aes Sedai serpent ring was based on? The nine rods are usually associated with the oath rod, however the Big White Book talks about how the AoL handled criminals by binding them from repeat offenses. One of the forsaken at some point in the story says the current Age Aes Sedai ‘bind themselves like criminals’ in regards to the Three Oaths they take. Aaaand we also know oath rods can be used for obedience - that’s what Therava did to Galina later on. So the Nine Rods are pretty unknown. Perhaps something to do with interdimensional travel or something along those lines. It sounds cool anway.
Fitting how the story begins with Ishy telling the Dragon they’ve fought this battle a thousand times a thousand. One of my favorite quotes is “I win again, Lews Therin” (I like to say in a Waluigi voice and imitate his mannerisms. Omg I’m so weird)
We have Elan using The True Power here without the notable black specks floating across his eyes. I’ve always felt like the first 3 books follow a looser set of rules for magic, where in book 4 there are clearer sets of rules that hold the world together. Also it comes off more mystical with the grandiose speeches we get, the use of the True Source is more fantastical (Moiraine spinning her staff, the illusion of her growing and stepping over a wall, her wall of fire, Rand slamming the ground and disrupting the Shadowspawn army) Later on it feels more practical, but maybe that’s more because we get the perspectives of those using saidar/saidin so it seems less mysterious.
This prologue establishes right away that you can hold too much power and it will destroy you - albeit very dramatically in this case. Also another indicator that Lews could handle a ridiculous amount of power if his overdraw is enough to create an entire fucking mountain. Interesting that lews didn't like being called Dragon. I wonder if he disliked being the reincarnation of such a polarizing figure, someone who could just as easily destroy the world as save it. Lews did both essentially.
Did the AoL have prophecies about the Dragon Reborn as well? We know they used portal stones and tel'aran'rhiod liberally. Reading the pattern was the specialty of the Aelfinn and the Eelfin and we know there were treaties in place to get that knowledge from them. No one even suspected a being like the Dark One existed so perhaps Dragon was just a name Lews felt uncomfortable with. Afterall, his peaceful society was forever shattered and he became a machine for war. The name Dragon must have felt really bitter for him.
Ishy was a philosopher before defecting. Which honestly makes so much sense. I can imagine he was already questioning the purpose of existence and then here comes the Dark One whispering in his ear telling him all about the endless cycle that will only end when the Dark One wins.
Ty for reading if you’ve made it this far! Feel free to share thoughts, ponderings and your own reminiscing.
The AoL Aes Sedai had foretellings (at least those at the end of the AoL) - they knew where to leave things for the Dragon to find at the Eye, Rhuidean and the Stone of Tear. Was that a consequence of opening the bore? I don’t recall if the forsaken think or talk about foretellings in their time during any of their perspective chapters. Drilling a hole through reality could have some funky effects, though. Would be really neat if that bore allowed the pattern to be read similar to what the twisty red doorway boys do.
Oh boy I didn’t expect I would have so much to ponder just from the prologue, holy moly. This is some of my favorite stuff, however, thinking about what could have been in the Age of Legends. Robert Jordan made such a cool expansive world, it’s really a joy to read every time. I am happy to be back in this world once more.
#wheel of time#wheel of time reread#eye of the world#dragonmount#full series spoilers#wot#wot reread#tumblr of time#twitter of time
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@meemeeblueberry777 ASKED: Are you currently doing requests? If so, what Grand Theft Auto games will you be willing to do?
// Howdy! I presume this is about fanfiction requests and not roleplay requests, but I'm gonna answer both anyways.
// In short, I do write fanfics in general. It’s pretty rare that I do so though, and the ones I do post tend to be one-offs on my AO3 because the last time I had the motivation and energy to write a multipart fic was literally 7 years ago so-
// As far as requests go, I do take requests for fanfics! It's not something I really advertise here since this is more of a roleplay-centered blog. (Fanfics and any other creative writing I do tend to get advertised on my personal blog… which just got restarted so there me nothing on there either, oops-) But the short of it is, yes, I take fanfic requests. That's not a guarantee that I'll always write out the requests though.
// As far as character roleplay requests? It honestly depends on the character and how familiar I am with their source material. I generally go very deep into the lore of content my muses come from so I have a pretty solid understanding of all the characters that appear in the source material. But understanding them doesn’t mean I have a solid grasp on their character- at least, not enough to write them. For example, if someone asked me to write Hoyt from FC3, I feel like I could probably pull it off. But if someone asked me to write Willis? Nah, that fruitcake’s an enigma even to me. (Sorry, Boojay, no offense-)
// Tbh, I have thought of the idea of asking writing partners if they'd be cool with me writing little fics of ships and general dynamics we have going on.) If any of my mutuals get around to reading this, let me know your thoughts on that. Would you be cool with me writing fics about our muses?
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SNGF: Which Ancestor Lived the Shortest Life
Tonight’s Saturday Night Genealogy Fun task set forth by Randy Seaver at Genea-Musings is as follows:
“Here is your assignment, should you decide to accept it (you ARE reading this, so I assume that you really want to play along - cue the Mission Impossible music!):
1) Which of your known ancestors lived the shortest life? Consider only the last eight generations and those ancestors with a known birth and death date. Do you know the cause of death? Was there an obituary? How many children did s/he have? How did you figure this out?
2) Write your own blog post, or leave a comment on this post, or write something on Facebook.”
My maternal grandfather, John Henry Willis, Jr., had the shortest lifespan of my direct ancestors.
John Henry Willis, Jr. was born 6 May 1889 in Mobile, Mobile County, Alabama.[1] He married Arnita Harris (1889-1980) on 30 October 1907 in Mobile.[2] They had five children, three sons and twin daughters born between 1908 and 1912. During his lifetime, John Henry worked as a plasterer.[3]
John Henry Willis, Jr. died on 15 January 1917 at the age of 27 years, 8 months and 9 days. According to my grandmother her husband, John Henry, was on a job painting a bridge when he supposedly slipped and fell from the bridge.
The death certificate for John Willis, Jr. states the cause of death as “drowned - accidentally”.[4]
John Henry Willis, Jr. is buried in Magnolia Cemetery, Mobile. His grave marker incorrectly gives his date of death as 16 January 1917.[5]
Tonight’s assignment was very easy to determine. I only have a known birth and death date for eleven of my direct line ancestors. Plus I have known since childhood that my grandfather had a tragically short life. It was easy to eyeball my tree to confirm John Henry Willis, Jr. as my ancestor with the shortest lifespan.
SOURCES
Find a Grave, database and images (https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/118747097/john-henry-willis: accessed 31 October 2020), memorial page for John Henry Willis Jr. (6 May 1889–16 Feb 1917), Find a Grave Memorial ID 118747097, citing Magnolia Cemetery, Mobile, Mobile County, Alabama, USA; maintained by Eireannach (contributor 48879922); accompanying photograph by “G-Man (contributor 46918562).”
Mobile County, Alabama, Colored Marriage Book 19: 621, John Henry Willis Jr.and Arnita Harris, 30 October 1907; digital images, FamilySearch (https://www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/3:1:939K-TT2G-5 : accessed 5 Nov 2017) 4704559 > image 351 of 750.
1910 U.S. census, Mobile County, Alabama, population schedule, Mobile, enumeration district (ED) 102, sheet 17B, dwelling 380, family 412, John W. Willis in the household of Emeline Harris; digital images, FamilySearch (https://www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/3:1:33SQ-GRVQ-F3H : accessed 14 Aug 2015) 4970205 > image 34 of 54; citing National Archives and Records Administration microfilm T624, roll 27.
Alabama Center for Health Statistics, death certificate (certified copy) no. 394, (1917), John Willis Jr, d. 15 January 1917; Alabama Department of Public Health, Montgomery.
Find a Grave, database and images, photograph, gravestone for John Henry Willis Jr. (1889-1917), Mobile, Mobile County, Alabama.
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Content Warning
By Jesse Eisenberg
November 7, 2022
This production contains strobe lights, loud noises, and haze.
this production contains a rain effect, which impacts only the sides of the audience. Luckily, this production has not sold a single ticket on the sides of the auditorium, as this production can barely sell out the middle section.
this production contains strong language. But not in the literary sense. There are no memorable lines, witty jokes, or pithy observations whereby characters muse in a way that allows the playwright to make a larger point about the human experience.
this production contains a scene in which the actors will be smoking. It may appear that one of the actors, the young man playing Cousin Jude, has never actually smoked a cigarette in his life, even though his character explicitly says, “I’ve been smokin’ my whole life.” You’d think the actor might have done the bare minimum of preparation for the role—it’s his first job, he’s straight out of Fordham—but he apparently thought he could wing it. This is just par for the course in this production.
this production uses dry ice to indicate that a scene is either a happy dream, a scary dream, a flashback, a passage of time, or that it takes place in Europe.
this production contains two characters who appear nude. That’s actually a bit misleading. It’s the same character, but at different ages. The first time we see the character nude, he is played by the lithe young man who plays the cop on that TV show. Presumably, most of you are here to see this actor in this nude scene. If you are sitting in the orchestra, you will get the fullest view. If you are sitting in the balcony, it’s not a complete washout, but I recommend moving down to the orchestra. There will be many available seats. In the second act, the same character is nude, but he is now played by Peter Jablownski. Peter is a member of our repertory company, and this is his forty-third year with us. If you make it to the second act, you’re going to want to head back up to those balcony seats.
this production contains confusing double casting.
this production contains an uncalled-for musical number.
this production contains unconvincing stage combat, a poor depiction of what it’s like to have diabetes, and a didactic speech about Lenin.
this production contains a vast misunderstanding of addiction.
this production contains a shocking ending. Although, to be clear, it’s not a good shock. It’s not the kind of shock where you’re invested in a character or a story and then, when things take an unexpected turn, you’re left with a greater understanding because you realize that the characters had no other choice. This is not Miss Julie walking offstage with a razor or Willy Loman crashing his car or Oedipus gouging out his own eyes (although doing that yourself might cross your mind during this production). It’s the kind of shock that makes you think, Have I been watching a different play for the past two hours? Wasn’t the grandmother supposed to be dead? How did they all wind up in Las Vegas, and why does the doctor keep mentioning bowler hats? It’s the kind of shock that tells you that the director got the job only because his dad runs the theatre company, and apparently nothing matters in this life except having a powerful father who runs a theatre company or being the third lead on a cop drama. It’s the kind of shock that indicates that the playwright’s mother was right and she should just go back to law school, and that having a career in the arts is both unstable and incredibly selfish.
this production will run four and a half hours, with one five-minute intermission. ♦
SOURCE
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How To Embrace your house ghost #Paranormal#comedy
My Spirit Advisor's name is Georgie. In his Human life he was a very funny, cranky comedian. When I start off my day I can hear Georgie say "well, look what is awake and doing her YOGA. That sounds too much like YOGURT. Do your cat stretches and we can get to work Sunshine!"
If I start to lose motivation and begin to slack off, my Muse sets me straight. "You ought to be lucky you have your laptop... books don't write themselves. Now let's get cracking Sunshine". My pet ghost comedian I can hear by I can't see. I can just picture him leaning up against the wall, sitting on my desk or pacing back and forth heckling me.
Why can I just hear him and not see him? Why does he heckle me when I most need to be teased?
So I finally get some love back from my hubby this morning and I am happy. Tig leaves the room and I am getting ready for the day. Georgie says "He's a grumpy one and ugly too. But he's here for you and loves you. Just close your eyes and pretend he is Brad Pitt . Not your fault Sunshinel". Well, I grin at myself in the mirror and whisper to my Muse. "thanks Georgie."
Sometimes a Muse can be the form of a Spirit Guide who has passed on. It seems that they assigned me this cranky comedian as my Muse to keep me cracking with my career and heckles me when I am down. Maybe he will get his wings if he completes his "quest". Help the disgruntled, lonely married lady who is in a California State of Mind and wants to go to Rock Concerts and mingle with Celebrities. The "cat lady" that is a big dreamer and master schemer and hears dead Celebrities.
I was meditating last night and felt like Willie Mae Brown on Ghost. There was a voice that said? Never, ever give up!" ..."Thanks Patrick" I whispered and to my left another voice of wisdom came. "The errors you make prepare you for the success you take"..."Thanks David" I whisper. "Now what is the freaking meditating stuff you do? You aren't going anywhere - you don't levitate or find out the meaning of life and death here. What are you doing Sunshine?
"Georgie, I am me and I like to try and quite my mind so I can sleep. Clearly, this only brings dead Celebrities and spirit Muses to me. Maybe they should call it Spirit Delegation. I'm a "beacon" for angel spirits that need their wings by helping people in distress. You saw an Author that was different from the norm who is trying to get her life back together and latched on. Meditation is supposed to be a way to quite the mind, body and get in touch with your inner soul. I suppose I am a Ghost Listener now. O.k. what do you guys need and how can I help YOU?"
I opened my eyes and the voices ceased. At least until tonight.
So if you are hearing heckling spirits and have Ghost Life Coaches - embrace them and welcome them in your home and your life and once they get their wings, they'll go away. Just grin and bear it and wait until a bell rings.
Caitlyn Carrington is an accomplished Poetess/Writer who loves Arthurian History, writing about true life and her family. She is the Author of Sci-Fi/Fantasy Fiction Real Of Hope/Earth Uprising and E-books Realm Of Reality, Buried Treasures and Deep Thoughts and Shallow Ramblings.
Article Source: https://EzineArticles.com/expert/Caitlyn_Carrington/6788
Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/3097041
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Jaune: Can you help me move this couch?
Nora: No NERD I don't read books!
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The kidnapped Freak Show stars - Muse brothers
The kidnapped black albino brothers, whom their mother saw again in a circus performance as the ambassador of Mars in 1927.
Of the five children in the Muse family in Virginia, the first two were born, George and Willie, with albinism and other problems such as nystagmus (which means uncontrolled horizontal movement of the eyes)
source: telex.hu
read: https://face2faceafrica.com/article/the-muse-brothers-two-black-albinos-kidnapped-and-displayed-as-freaks-in-u-s-circuses-in-the-1900s
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Unus Annus Sentence Meme Starter
“Hey buddy buddy buddy buddy!”
“Our long time colleagues are 419 hours a day deny you here!”
“Peoples dream, must first be full of blood!”
“When we arrived in my backyard, we stopped the fire.”
“We quickly eliminated the enemy, and the fight was depressing.”
“Boy am I hungry!”
“Zip zap zop!”
“I don’t know if this was your idea, but we’ll roll with it.”
“This wouldn’t be the first time like, ‘hey I’ve got an idea.’ when we told you it weeks ago.”
“With the guidance of a guardian angel, you can do anything.”
“What am I teaching you how to do?”
“You don’t need to make it! I’m making it!”
“Have you washed your hands? You should wash your hands.”
“You can have the knife when you need the knife.”
“Close the door and never go back!”
“I want you to do something for me. Take a balloon, stretch it out..nice and wide.”
“Some of us are more gifted than others.”
“Okay, so what are we doing here? What is this?”
“I think that the way that I’d kill you is..’take you by the hands. come this way. I’ve got something to show you. just something you HAVE TO SEE.’ “
“In highschool. I dated a girl...her name was, Abigail. Very smart and driven. I was a stupid boy.”
“I still hadn’t let go, but they called me to tell me. She’d let go.”
“She looked down at the ground and then looked back up me. She giggled a bit and then said ‘Oh, don’t you know? I have feelings for Troy.’ “
“When you’re a late bloomer and you spend most of your time alone in a dark room with various ‘websites’, it turns out that feeding my entire adolescences with perverted thoughts from various unsavory sources makes a distorted impression of the act of making love.”
“After about thirty minutes of dry thrusting, I found myself incapable of completion.”
“The first time I ever had sex, I had to fake my own orgasm..just to get it over with.”
“I too was a late bloomer. I didn’t know anything about intercourse or foreplay or anything.”
“We heard the tent unzip, her thirteen year old brother came through the tent! He didn’t see us. But, we were there. He said ‘Dinner’s ready.’ Under the protection of the sleeping bag we were replied ‘OKAY!’, He exited and I-- *giggles* exited.”
“I think that’s enough therapy for one day. Remember, it’s okay to talk about embarrassing of your life.”
“You stand here..I’m gonna take my shoes off.”
“I need to climb around you.”
“Using teamwork and trust and...t-t-t....team work, you get one person from one end of the body, all the way around to the same end.”
“You think you know us, but we only show you what we want you to see.”
“Let’s get climbing.”
“I thought we were gonna watch a movie.”
“And then I PILE DRIVE YOU’RE SPINE...paralyzed for life.”
“I AM ALWAYS STABLE. Don’t even try to unstablize me.”
“Felt like an emotional burden unloaded.”
“Death comes for all of us and we’ve gotta prepare.”
“It’s a beautiful world, with a lot of caskets.”
“I’m just thinking about America...it’s not a great time to think about America.”
“Can we see some different caskets? Can you show us some metal ones, some wood ones?”
“Let’s start with the highest! And then we’ll work down to where we’re comfortable.”
“Why is Mahogany like the universally known wood? It’s used in all the movies, everyone talks about it. If they want quality, they want a Mahogany.”
“Obviously it’s a beautiful wood, but what makes Mahogany so special?”
“With Mahogany if you look at it. If you pass your eyes to the side, it changes. It goes with you.”
“You are supposed to be buried in dirt. From dust to dust.”
“I don’t want it to be too comfortable. I’d like to stay alert.”
“I don’t know, what does it mean to be afraid? I’m not afraid of death.”
“I don’t like the feel of velvet. I mean, I’ll touch it.”
“Mmh....velvet...”
“That’s the thing! Like old production stuff was built to last, FOREVER!”
“For now you can kneel.”
“They’re Nigerian dwarf goats. They’re gonna be your yoga partners today.”
“I twisted a man into a pretzel. I could do the same to you.”
“I twisted myself into a pretzel.”
“It’s so much more fun to do a plank with a goat on your back.”
“The goats come to you. The motto that we like to have it ‘trust the goats.’ “
“Oh, wait. Wait! I didn’t know we were competing.”
“When I did hot yoga. I kicked everyone’s ass.”
“There’s a lot goatin’ on.”
“You flinchy bastard.”
“Alright, there’s a goat there.”
“I always tell people that they will fire their massage therapists because goat massages are way better.”
“Yeah, it’s real firm.”
“Ow, oh god. Your tallons!”
“Oh, tight pants..tight pants!”
“Those are quitters who think that you have to have the perfect conditions to do things but if you can do things in times of adversity that’s when you know you’re really committed to a cause!”
“Anyone want kisses?”
“It’s okay to show emotions.”
“CRY LITTLE BITCH, CRY!”
“No one’s crazy enough to do it!”
“We knew this year was going to be hell.”
“Hey! Seven days..”
“There’s always still time for things to go wrong.”
“We’ll save them for the future.”
“No, there’s no future.”
“I hope I die in a hilarious way. I hope my death can be told as a joke, like it’s so funny how I died. People can get one last joy. One last laugh.”
“I’m not afraid of death, but I am afraid of dying.”
“Okay, we only have our sixth sense to see with. Okay? Much like Bruce Willis in the show Sixth Sense, spoiler, I know it’s new. He sees dead eggs everywhere.”
“You can do it with dominoes too, but be careful with that one cause once to get a hundred or more dominoes and you spill ‘em all over, it’s gonna take all afternoon to set ‘em back up.”
“So you better fucking see with your brain or else you won’t be able to have a good time.”
“Ouch ouch ouch! That’s not an egg.”
“I think you need to go a little slower.”
“Oh...Puppies!”
“Should we turn on the emergency camper light?”
“I’m just such a neat freak.”
“You know we need to try and escape.”
“What a profound man, that shot out the load that is Tony Stark.”
“This is a literal don’t show it. Oh god, all of his nudes are right there!”
“Gone gone, forever.”
“Two idiots cause ten care pile up from buttplug dropedge.”
“Hook car batteries up to my nipples? I’ll say yes every time!”
“I’m not a masochist. I’m really not. I’m glad I have this uninterrupted moment to talk about this. I’m not a masochist. I’m just curious.”
“I’ve never been hit by a car, outside of my car? What’s that like? I DON’T KNOW!”
“Sometimes, I am an idiot and..I match your intelligence level. THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT!”
“We’ve been edging father time for a year.”
“Recognize my face, thank you.”
“Oh it was terrible. You didn’t tell me about all the bears along the way.”
“Nice camel toe.
“Do you want me to get nurse Tracy?”
“When we tried to crush those melons, SHE TOOK TWO!”
“I was thinking the other night, what if the next melon is [insert muses’s name here] skull?”
“I just like doing what I’m told.”
“A man of few words, a man of action.”
“Are our faces being used as Capchas’ now?”
“Thank you god, thats’s a good idea.”
“God said we could!”
“Doesn’t matter what you do, to keep it from ending. Once it ends. It’s gone forever.”
“I don’t know you but you’re here, a lot. I guess you’re fine.”
“I couldn’t get it off, I felt like I was gonna rip your skin off.”
“YOU WERE GONNA RIP MY SKIN OFF.”
“We got all this time that we can relax! We’ve got like a week to relax...”
“Neither of us have ever been pepper sprayed. Let’s get pepper sprayed!”
“It’s burning as if there’s some hot oil.. on my eyes.”
“My eyes are okay now.”
“This fucking sucks so bad.”
“I would not recommend getting pepper sprayed.”
“When I was a young lad. All I had was my imagination and the woodland creatures.”
“You shot me twice! I get to shoot you with a paintball at some point in the future.”
“There is no easy!”
“Math wasn’t my strong suit, nor was anything.”
“He’s an idiot but he can read well.”
“Look at me in the eyes boy, you’ll never be stronger than me.”
“How do you have time for anything, do you not sleep?”
“Your shirt needs to be off.”
“I think you just want me to take my shirt off.”
“Ugh...I’m fine.”
“I need gloves, I need gloves, hang on, I gotta get gloves!”
“I don’t wanna do anything with drainage.”
“What bone would you say hurts?”
“That’s what the picture said to do, breast feed your patient.”
“Your bed’s not very comfortable.”
“THE GONGOOZLER!”
“It not over, it’s close.”
“In six hours, we’re done.”
“It’s hard to say goodbye, but it’s important.”
“Beautiful, a sailor’s dream to come across the mermer.”
“DELETE ME!! CUT ME OUTTA HERE!!”
“I’m being an asshole now.”
“It’s not hope, it’s delusion.”
“You can’t speed your way into heaven!”
“Have you ever looked at your tongue too long in the mirror and it no longer looks like it belongs to you?”
“Biology is just a constant nightmare.”
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