#also I feel like I draw the beast council a little differently every time I try lol. I'm getting used to them okay they are all so so shape | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

baoshan-sanren · 4 years

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Chapter 48 & Chapter 49

Emperor Wei WuXian And His Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Birthday

The Imperial guard who approaches him is very careful, almost reverent in his posture.

Lan XiChen is resting. He has been ordered to do so by uncle, who has done precious little resting himself, only stepping away from the guqin when his fingers are on the verge of bleeding.

Since Wei WuXian had been moved from the grand hall, not a moment has gone by without the sounds of Cleansing weaving throughout the Emperor’s chambers, a continuous exertion of spiritual energy that no single Lan cultivator could have maintained. But there are three of them, and although their skills and abilities differ, the Emperor is no longer in danger, his chest rising and falling smoothly with unlabored breaths of deep sleep.

WangJi has only abandoned the guqin when ordered to do so, and only so he may move closer to bed, settling down on the floor by Wei WuXian’s shoulder. The position does not look restful; WangJi’s tense figure is stiff with coiled worry, his eyes locked on the Emperor’s face, as if by sight alone he can infuse more color into his cheeks. XiChen can hear the soft murmur of Lady Jiang’s voice, and WangJi’s equally as soft response. Some steps away, the Rogue Prince stands motionless, his vigil silent.

“Young Master Lan,” the Imperial guard whispers, “forgive me for interrupting. General Nie is outside, requesting to speak with you. What would you like me to tell him?”

XiChen needs a few moments to formulate an appropriate response.

The Imperial guard waits patiently, deferentially even, comically folded in half so he can hear XiChen’s response. XiChen finds this entire situation beyond absurd.

The Young Master of the Lan Sect should not be asked if he wishes to speak to the General of the Emperor’s army. The Young Master of the Lan Sect can be issued an order by the lowest court official, and would have no choice but to obey. Yet, he thinks, if he were to tell this Imperial guard that the General must wait, or come back at a later time, the guard would jump to follow instruction.

The rest are no better. For hours now, they have tiptoed carefully around all three of the Lan Sect members, as if charged with protecting royalty. Most of them even hesitate to look at uncle directly, their eyes never quite managing to rise past uncle’s knees. Uncle’s performance during the Gifting Ceremony had been impressive to be sure, but the current level of veneration for a man who had been dismissed and spurned only a day ago, seems far beyond excessive.

XiChen had not spoken to Nie MingJue since issuing the misguided invitation. This is neither the time nor the occasion for the conversation they must have, not to mention that XiChen feels ill-prepared to have it even under the best of circumstances. But now, in the midst of their attempts to keep the Emperor breathing, in the midst of his brother’s obvious anguish, his uncle’s exhaustion, his own fatigue, XiChen cannot face the prospect of further heartache.

Still, he cannot have the guards turn the General of the Emperor’s army away, regardless of their willingness to do just that. He rises slowly, and the guard steps back, as if XiChen would scold him for standing too close.

Nie MingJue waits just outside the entrance, facing two dozen Imperial guards. He is wearing full armor, his hand resting on the pommel of his saber.

The General of the Emperor’s army looks as if he may need to fight his way past the Imperial guards in order to enter the Emperor’s chambers. This implies a great deal about the powers currently in charge, and most of these implications are alarming in nature.

Is the Emperor still the Emperor?

XiChen does not know. No one else has come or gone. No inquiries have reached them, no orders, no edicts. There could be a bloody war outside the Jade Sword Palace, and none of those in the Imperial chambers would ever notice it being waged.

All these are legitimate concerns and worries, but XiChen cannot find the words to voice them. In the Nie battle armor, both chest and shoulder plate depicting the sneering Beast’s Head sigil, Nie MingJue is terrifying to behold. But the moment his eyes land on XiChen, his posture shifts, his face softens, the change clearly visible and devastating to see.

The hand on his forearm is careful as it draws him some distance away from the guards.

“XiChen,” MingJue says, “Are you well?”

It is a struggle to find his voice, but XiChen manages, “The Emperor is recovering well. It may be some hours yet until he wakes, and it will take many days for his strength to return. Uncle says he had fought back, attempting to expel the resentful energy on his own. This had saved his life, but it has also significantly depleted his--“

The hand tightens on his forearm, cutting his words in half.

“XiChen,” MingJue says again, “I asked if you are well.”

It is a basic rule of politeness, that the question once blatantly ignored, should not be repeated. But such rules have no effect on Nie MingJue.

XiChen is tired of suppressing the constant and unrelenting waves of anxiety. The calluses he had built up over the years cannot hold up to the punishing pace they had set to keep the Emperor breathing. His fingers hurt. His shoulders hurt. He has suffered greater discomforts in the past, and borne them with dignity. But now, he feels very small, and very tired, and he wishes that he could say these things to Nie MingJue, perhaps the only person who would not think less of him for hearing them.

He exhales, a shuddering breath that feels much too revealing, “I am well. I am only tired. Why are you here? Is the Emperor still in danger?”

Nie MingJue glances back at the Imperial guards and pulls XiChen a little further away, out of their hearing range.

“The Jiang Sect has taken charge of the Imperial guards,” he says, “Which was to be expected. The Jiang and the Nie have always stood together as brothers-in-arms in the defense of the Emperor. But there are... tensions. Multiple sects are calling for a war with the Wen. The High Councilor appears to be in agreement. Perhaps he sees such an action as a logical response to the attack on the Emperor. Or perhaps, he is resentful of the fact that HuaiSang is in possession of an edict naming him the guardian of the successor.”

The carefully concealed anxiety blooms in XiChen’s chest, leaving him breathless.

“Can the Council declare war? Without the Emperor’s approval?”

“No,” MingJue says, “but they may try and do so regardless. If I refuse to follow their orders, this will result in different war, right here in the palace halls. I do not want to lead the army against the Imperial guards. This must be prevented.”

“How-- what do you need? What can I do?”

“I need the Emperor,” Nie MingJue says bluntly, “The sects need to hear that the Emperor is well, and recovering quickly. They need to hear this from the Lan Sect Leader.”

They are far enough away where XiChen can no longer hear the sounds of the guqin, but he knows that the Cleansing has gone on uninterrupted.

He shakes his head, “My uncle-- the Emperor is not yet well enough to be left to the care of WangJi and myself. I will come in his place.”

Chapter 49

Nie HuaiSang has never sat on the dais alone.

He has wielded almost as much power as the Emperor himself. He has frequently sprawled on the Emperor’s seat, worn the Emperor’s clothes, used the Emperor’s seal. But he has never before felt so utterly alone.

His personal guard, the members of the Nie Sect charged with his protection, are lined up behind him. The High Councilor is to his left; to the right, the empty space where A-Jue should be is a constant source of anxiety and irritation. In front of him, the receiving hall is crowded with every Sect and clan leader in the Immortal Mountain City, only some of them trustworthy, and nearly all of them unpredictable. The seat underneath him feels akin to a death trap, waiting for an opportune moment to snap closed on his tender backside.

His hand tightens around the fan, then relaxes. Tightens, then relaxes.

With Wei Ying by his side, he could hide behind the fan. He could do anything, say anything, act in any way he pleases. With Wei Ying by his side, the obvious clusters of hostility in the hall would be an insignificant source of amusement.

His eyes meet Jiang Cheng’s, only for a moment, neither acknowledging the contact. In the back of the hall, three members of the Wen Sect stand under guard. Wen Qing is cool and collected, her head held high, her robes bright and striking next to the muted Nie greens. HuaiSang can see A-Lin making a conscious effort to emulate his sister, but being a nervous creature by nature, he is only managing to appear more rigid. Granny Wen is in possession of composure that HuaiSang very much envies at this moment. Their lives are on the line as much as his own, but one would never know it by looking at Granny Wen’s face.

The rest of the Wen Sect is in the Jade Sword Palace courtyard, under guard, and awaiting their fate. HuaiSang has managed to stall the calls for an immediate attack on QiShan, but only by insisting that the Emperor’s condition must take precedence. Still, with each moment that passes with A-Jue conspicuously absent, the tension in the hall seems to rise, the hostility and the resentment thickening.

HuaiSang would very much like to keep all of the secrets that must be kept, and not start a war today. He has an unpleasant feeling that he may not get to have both.

It is difficult to conceal a sigh of relief when A-Jue finally enters the hall. The Lan Sect Leader is absent, but Lan XiChen’s placid countenance is almost an improvement. It is no secret that Lan QiRen is generally disliked for his personality alone, the man’s icy facade only serving to agitate the existing resentment. Lan XiChen, infinitely serene in the face of animosity, patient and humble to a fault, may be precisely the type of calm presence that can soothe the waves of unrest in the hall.

There may be some question as to whose authority is higher in this instance. The Royal Companion, often perceived as the Imperial Consort, technically does not outrank the High Councilor. His status as the guardian of the successor only gives him power once the Emperor is no longer among the living. Still, Lan XiChen does not hesitate. His first bow and greeting is given to Nie HuaiSang. He turns to the High Councilor next, a perfect mirror image, the bow no less deep, the greeting no less courteous. But the hierarchy the Lan Sect recognizes has been made clear. This acknowledgment is significant, considering the current position of the Lan Sect, both as the saviors of the Emperor, and their future connection to the throne through marriage.

Nie HuaiSang greets Lan XiChen politely in turn, feeling as if his seat is now a little less likely to collapse under his anxious bottom.

“Young Master Lan,” the High Councilor says, “the Council requires an update on the Emperor’s condition.”

“The Emperor is recovering well. His life is no longer in danger.”

The hall had hushed to hear the response, but now a low murmur rises, the word traveling among those placed furthest away from the dais.

“Are you quite certain?”

“I am certain,” Lan XiChen says, his voice unwavering, “The Emperor should wake soon, although he may still require days of rest to regain the spiritual energy he had lost.”

All of HuaiSang’s bones seem to turn liquid at once. It is by force of will alone that he manages to stay upright, instead of slumping against the throne in relief.

“The Royal Companion had summoned the Lan Sect Leader,” Jin GuangShan says carefully, only two steps below the High Councilor, “Is there a reason that the Young Master is here in his place?”

Lan XiChen smiles, but the smile does not reach his eyes, “The Jin Sect Leader is very observant. The Lan Sect is honored to be an object of the Jin Sect Leader’s concern. My uncle believes that the Emperor’s recovery must take precedence over other matters. Please forgive my humble presence in his place.”

Nie HuaiSang feels that he has been quite unjust to the Young Master of the Lan Sect in the past. He also believes that he could become quite fond of the man in the future. It has been somewhat... difficult to reconcile himself to A-Jue’s single-minded focus on Lan XiChen, a person who is still essentially a stranger. It is a common failing of siblings, to find their future in-laws unworthy despite all evidence to the contrary. But Nie HuaiSang is willing to admit his error.

“The Emperor’s health, of course, takes precedence,” the High Councilor says, “We are grateful to the Lan Sect for their assistance and dedication. As the Emperor is recovering swiftly, I believe all decisions may wait for his judgment.”

A louder murmur rises at his words, and Nie HuaiSang braces for the inevitable.

Which comes, to no one’s surprise, in the form of Sect Leader Yao.

“Are we to simply allow the Wen Sect to go free? After such a betrayal? The Emperor himself had stated that their lives are to be forfeit if Wen RuoHan ever dared orchestrate another attack. Do you mean to act against the Emperor’s orders?”

This, of course, is all Wei Ying’s fault. Nie HuaiSang had offered to have Sect Leader Yao killed years ago. The man would have been infinitely more useful as dust and bones, than he is now, with his flapping mouth always sowing discord.

“The Wen Sect will be placed in the dungeons to await the Emperor’s judgment,” Nie HuaiSang says coldly, “Only the Emperor may decide the means of executing traitors. These decisions have never been within the purview of the powers given to the Council.”

“The Royal Companion is correct,” Jin GuangShan’s voice raises the hair on the back of HuaiSang’s neck, “and yet, my own disciple was jailed by no other than the former First Prince’s servant. The Jin Sect has yet to receive an explanation for this action.”

“Your disciple was jailed by my orders,” A-Jue says dismissively, “and will wait for the Emperor’s judgment along with the Wen Sect.”

HuaiSang winces. He loves his brother, but diplomacy is not Nie MingJue’s strong suit.

“Sect Leader Jin,” HuaiSang says meekly, “Your disciple had displayed suspicious behavior in the wake of the attack on the Emperor. Perhaps he is innocent, but surely, you do not begrudge us an overabundance of caution. I can guarantee that your disciple will come to no harm until the Emperor himself has had a chance to address the matter.”

He knows that there is nothing that influences the High Councilor quite as much as a reasonable argument delivered in a reasonable tone. HuaiSang has always wondered why such a man would choose a life companion that is rarely ever capable of calm and reasonable argument. As he expected, Jiang FengMian is nodding even before HuaiSang has finished speaking, making it clear that between the two of them, Jin GuangShan will find his complaint neatly swept to the side. Familiar with the High Councilor’s tendencies to fold in the face of mildest possible pressure, Jin GuangShan appears unhappy, but offers no further complaints.

“Young Master Lan,” the High Councilor says, “the Council requests to be informed of any changes in the Emperor’s condition. Until then, I believe we have no further need of you.”

Lan XiChen bows, and is escorted out of the hall. HuaiSang fights a small stab of resentment that A-Jue escorts the man personally, when a dozen Nie Sect members would have done just as well. Maybe he no longer needs A-Jue’s support, now that the Emperor’s seat is no longer in peril, but he would have liked to have that support nonetheless.

“I believe that we may rest easily tonight, and meet again on the morrow,” Jiang FengMian says, “Is the Royal Companion in agreement?”

The Royal Companion is very much in agreement. He may have promised Jin GuangShan that his disciple will come to no harm, but HuaiSang has no qualms about breaking his word.

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #ficlet #m #wwx emperor au #two in one #both are short chapters so i figured what the hell #probably wangji's pov in the next chapter #then creepy story time by xue yang in the one after #i would like to go back to being three chapters ahead of the published #but it's looking like two will do for now #ily chickens

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jay-me-says · 3 years

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Things Were Different Back Then

CHAPTER ONE: The Protagonist Returns

Masterpost w/ more info on the fic | Note: all SBI-related relationships here are platonic!

Tubbo fidgets with the buttons on his suit jacket, the shiny gold a pretty contrast to the forest green fabric. The notion seems utterly laughable to him, but he’s nervous to see Tommy.

It’s been a while since the blond was last in L’manburg. A few weeks after Tubbo became president, Tommy had left. “I just need to clear my head for a while. I’ll be back,” he had said. Nearly a month had passed with no Tommy and no word from him. Until a few days ago, when Tubbo had received a message via carrier parrot. It was from Tommy, saying he was okay and would be home in a few days.

Tubbo had felt happy at first, but now he was nervous out of his mind. The past few days had been spent making preparations for Tommy’s return. Everyone wanted to make his homecoming special, so the whole nation had pitched in to decorate and prep food to welcome Tommy back with a feast. The entire time he was helping prep, Tubbo had felt like a blob. A wobbly, wiggly version of himself that had no solid shape and was made only of nerves and worry.

He was terrified that something might go wrong, or that he hadn’t done enough to welcome his dear friend back home. Even with the entire nation covered in banners and candles and lanterns, Tubbo kept wondering what else he could do. He’d even been tempted to temporarily lift the ban on explosives to allow fireworks, but in the end decided it wouldn’t look good for a president to go around breaking his own laws.

Presently, Tubbo is standing about ten feet from the gates of L’manburg. One of the first things the country had done after the revolution against Schlatt (after tearing down and replacing the hideous obsidian flag of Manburg) was build a wall around their territory to prevent attackers from waltzing in freely. Along with that project had come a large gate. It was made of spruce wood and opened with a pulley on either side, requiring two people to lift it.

Watchtowers dot the wall, where people often take turns scanning the terrain beyond. Mainly, they watch for invaders from the Dream SMP. In the short time Tubbo has been president, there hasn’t been much activity. Just a scout every now and again. They keep watch anyways, on edge after a history full of war. Fundy is sitting in one of the towers closest to the gate, keeping an eye out for Tommy. Eret and Puffy each stand by one of the pulleys, talking. Everyone else mills around, staying close to the gate while talking to one another.

The air in the nation has been filling up with anticipation since Tubbo made the announcement about Tommy’s return. It feels like electricity, energizing the clusters of people, making them more alert. Every slight noise from outside the gate turns heads.

Tubbo, zoned out while worrying his mind and his button, doesn’t notice Niki approach. When she places her hand on the president’s shoulder, he startles, drawing in a sharp breath and snapping his head to look at her. Seeing that it’s just his fellow council member, the tension drops from his shoulders and he slowly exhales. After the Second Revolution, Tubbo had decided to alter the way L’manburg’s executive branch ran. Instead of a single president, he wanted there to be multiple leaders. Soon after the coup, before Tommy left, there was an election that voted himself, Niki, and Tommy in. Fundy has been acting as a stand-in for Tommy since he left.

Niki’s brow is creased slightly in concern. “Are you alright, Tubbo? You look nervous.”

He doesn’t try to hide it. “I am, Niki. I really am. It’s just,” he pauses for a moment and sighs, “it’s been so long since I’ve seen him. What if he’s changed a lot- what if I've changed- and we don’t get along?” Tubbo keeps fidgeting with his button, eyes locked on Niki’s.

Niki uses her hand on Tubbo’s shoulder to gently turn him to face her fully. She puts her free hand on his other shoulder and squeezes. Tubbo catches the sparkle of her promise ring to Puffy in his peripheral vision. “I can understand your worry, Tubbo, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. Even if he has changed, you’re Tommy and Tubbo, L’manburg’s favorite dream duo. You’ll work it out, I’m sure of it.”

The way Niki’s gaze locks onto Tubbo comforts him. She looks so certain. Like she’s telling Tubbo that the sky is blue. It settles him some, but he still grips the button on his jacket. His fingers have stilled, though.

“Thank you, Niki.”

“Anytime, Tubbo.”

Right as Niki finishes speaking, Fundy hollers from his tower. They both glance over as he yells, “Tommy’s back!”

Tubbo looks back to Niki, eyes wide with excitement. The other council member is grinning. She squeezes his shoulders again, then gives him a soft shove towards the gate. “Go! Go meet him!”

Nerves temporarily forgotten, the brunette takes off. The built-up electricity crackles through the air and into his body, making his limbs lighter. In that moment, Tubbo is sure that he has never run faster.

Eret and Puffy have started pulling up the gate and Fundy is scrambling down from the tower, rushing to join the crowd that has gathered a few feet away from the wooden bars. They are packed in tightly, already calling hellos to Tommy. When they notice Tubbo, though, they move and let him barrel through.

When he gets to the front of the crowd, stumbling to a stop, Tubbo’s eyes finally land on Tommy. His hair is ruffled and he’s smiling, eyes lit up as he scans over the crowd of his friends. When his gaze falls on Tubbo, he grins even wider. At the same moment, they take off running.

Now, Tubbo is sure, he’s never run faster. The boys nearly bowl each other over as they crash into a hug. They grip each other tightly. An observer would swear they’d never let go.

Relief and affection pools up inside of Tubbo, filling him to the brim and making him feel warm. Tommy is safe. Tommy is here, in L’manburg, in his arms. No more wondering where he is or if he’s okay.

“I missed you so much,” Tommy breathes, the hint of a laugh tangled in his syllables.

Tubbo sinks deeper into the hug. “I missed you, too. I’m so glad you’re back.” He grips the other boy tighter, if possible.

Their words are muffled, faces buried in each other’s shoulders. Tubbo could stay like this for hours and not mind.

But they do break apart. Tubbo tries not to feel a little sad and grins up at the taller boy, who grins back. He’s not sure he would ever admit this out loud, but Tubbo had missed those bright blue eyes of Tommy’s.

The taller boy grabs Tubbo’s right hand in his own and squeezes. The look he gives him sinks into the brunette’s soul, conveying words he hasn’t said aloud. We'll finish this later.

Tubbo nods and gently lets his friend’s hand go. As he walks away, it feels like something is missing. Like Tubbo has taken his hands off a warm mug and the cold is seeping into his skin. He can practically hear Tommy saying, “Clingy bitch.”

Tommy is greeted like a hero returning from slaying some vexatious beast. The crowd jumps on him, each person gripping him close in turn and welcoming him home.

As Quackity is greeted with a yell of “Big Q!” Tubbo finally notices the dog. Really, he’s unsure how he missed it in the first place. It’s about as large as a small bench and fluffy beyond belief, with fur the same color as the quartz blocks that make up the Prime church. Tubbo’s heart melts a little when he sees the familiar green bandana tied around the dog’s neck.

The dog barks in excitement, running around, picking up the crowd’s energy. Many L’manburgians are already dishing out pets. It’s a challenge, though. The dog only stays still for a few seconds before running more laps around the group.

Tubbo also notices the parrot, then, flapping around nearby Tommy’s head. It’s mostly green with just a little smudge of a lemony yellow on its forehead and wings. It’s the same parrot that delivered Tommy’s message. Tubbo had sent the bird back to Tommy afterwards, bearing a response letter and a little pouch with a few cookies made by Niki.

The light, energetic feeling vanishes from Tubbo’s limbs when he sees Tommy stood in front of Wilbur. The tall brunette looks uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot and picking at the hem of his gray sweater. For a few seconds, they do nothing but stand across from each other, staring. The scene sucks the electricity out of the air, hoarding it all and turning the pair into a greedy storm cloud.

Finally, Tommy reaches out a tentative hand. Wilbur glances between the hand and Tommy’s face, then carefully takes it. They shake and Tommy moves on quickly, finishing his greetings. The stolen electricity slowly leaks back into the atmosphere.

The group had moved outside of the wall earlier, following Tubbo after he booked it out to meet Tommy. Now, they lead the blond into L’manburg, towards the spruce platforms where the podium once stood. A long table has been set up and covered in food and dishware. Tubbo snags a seat next to Tommy and lets himself get swept away in the energy of the group. They loudly tell stories, taking turns updating Tommy on what’s happened since he left and listening as the blond regales them with tales from his time away. Being around everyone like this, eating together and talking about anything and everything, warms Tubbo’s heart. He feels happy. By the time the sun sets, his cheeks are aching from so much smiling.

The L’manburgians stay at the table well into the night, orange light cast from lanterns keeping the mobs at bay. But as the moon traces a path through the sky, the group slowly thins out and people return to their homes for the night. Eventually, there are only a few people left at the table.

After Quackity leaves, clapping his hand on Tommy’s shoulder when he walks by, the blond nudges Tubbo to get his attention. “Do you want to head back up to your house? I’m pretty tired.”

Tubbo agrees and the two say their goodbyes, leaving Eret, Philza, and Fundy as the final three at the table. Tubbo privately wonders where Wilbur has gone, figuring he would’ve stayed with his father and son, but thinks better than to ask. It seems like a charged question, and he’d rather not ruin the mood.

As Tubbo and Tommy make the short walk home, the dog and the parrot trailing along behind them, there isn’t a single quiet moment. They chatter back and forth about everything and nothing. Tubbo once again feels warm. He’s missed this, all of it. Everything that he couldn’t do with Tommy while he was gone.

When they reach his house, Tubbo opens the door and gestures for Tommy to go in first. The dog follows, parrot sitting atop his fluffy head, then Tubbo enters. Tommy, of course, has his own home in L’manburg to stay in. He was around long enough after the revolution against Schlatt to build one. But they had decided via carrier parrot that he would stay with Tubbo for a few days, giving the pair time to catch up and see each other more.

While Tommy gets settled in the guest room, Tubbo sits in a wooden chair near the bed and they keep talking. Tubbo never seems to run out of words with Tommy around.

“So, what’s up with the dog?” Tubbo inquires as the great, fluffy wolf sits in front of him. It places a large paw on his lap, so Tubbo scratches its head.

Tommy flits between his bag and the wardrobe, putting away his armor and spare clothes. “That’s Walter. I had set up camp for a bit in some woods and he came to check it out. I gave him some steaks and when I went to leave, he followed. He’s been with me for about half the time I’ve been away, I think.”

“He’s massive.”

Tommy cracks a smile. “Seriously. A child could use him as a pony.”

Still petting the dog, Tubbo turns his gaze to the parrot sitting on the headrest of the bed. He makes a mental note to bring Tommy some things for it tomorrow. “Did you name the parrot?”

“Yeah, Henry II. What’s up with the parrots anyways?” He pauses in putting away his things and looks at Tubbo, brow creased in confusion.

“It was Ponk’s idea. He figured it would be nice to have a way to send messages, so he’s been training up parrots. He runs a little mail building where most of them are kept. Got built a week or so after you left.”

“Has it actually been helpful?” An edge of doubt creeps into Tommy’s voice, but he seems rather curious.

“I mean, it was helpful to get some warning before you got back, so we could prepare to give you a big welcoming. Besides that, it has been pretty convenient. I’ve been using the system to send people notes. It’s sort of nice to not have to go to peoples’ houses to communicate with them.”

Tommy hums in response as he resumes putting away his things. As he finishes, shutting the wardrobe, he says, “That was really nice, by the way. Thank you, you guys didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course we did. We all wanted to. Although, the decorations were mostly Wilbur. Man barely stopped working on them since we got word you were coming.”

Tubbo realizes too late that he probably shouldn’t have brought up Wilbur, especially after how tense Tommy had been back at the gate with him. Kicking himself, he hurries on, “By the way, Tommy, you’re still invited to take back your council seat. I’m sure Fundy will be thrilled to be relieved of his post. He’s been working really hard, but he doesn’t enjoy it all that much.”

Tommy pushes the tip of his shoe into the floor and glances off to the side. “Er, yeah, about that, do you think he could stay on just a little while longer? I- I don’t know if I’m feeling up for that yet. Everything is so different, and I just need some time to adjust if…if that’s alright.” He looks at Tubbo again on the last sentence. Tubbo is a little surprised but understands. “I’m sure you could ask him about it. I was planning to show you around tomorrow anyway, so we could stop by his and Phil’s and Wilbur’s house and speak with him. We could invite Niki along, as well.”

If asked, Tubbo would say he wants to invite Niki because she’s also on the council, and conversations about the council should involve her. And that is partly true, but he also wants another buffer in case they end up talking to Wilbur.

Tubbo tries to start up the conversation properly again, but it’s not quite the same. Tommy still seems somewhat tense, and sort of withdrawn. The brunette wishes he hadn’t brought up Wilbur like that. The comment had turned the air thick- it almost felt hard to breathe.

When he thinks he might suffocate by staying in the room any longer, Tubbo says goodnight, wanting out before his tongue can dig him a deeper hole. “I’m just down the hall if you need me,” he adds as he gets up from the chair.

Before he can leave, Tommy crosses the room and grabs his friend’s arm, tugging him into a hug. Tubbo squeezes back, again glad that the boy is in L’manburg and within his reach once more. A small smile tugs at his features.

“I really did miss you, Tubbo. Thank you for the party,” Tommy murmurs against Tubbo’s shoulder.

“Of course, Tommy. We were glad to do it.”

The boys break apart and say a final goodnight before Tubbo goes to his room. As he gets ready for bed, he thinks about how Tommy is acting about Wilbur; he sort of shut down after the mention of him. It worries the brunette, but he tries to brush it off. Surely, it’ll be fine in a few days. Tommy just needs to get used to being back and sort things out with his brother.

‘

You can also read this on Ao3! | Next Chapter Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed! <3

#tommyinnit and tubbo fanfic #tommyinnit fanfic #tubbo fanfic #dream smp fanfic #dream smp fanfiction #sbi mcyt #sleepy bois fanfic #sleepy bois inc fanfiction #tubbo and tommy #jay-me-writes

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fuwafuwamedb · 4 years

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A Stolen Wife Pt 2 (Gilgamesh, Hakuno, Ishtar)

Thus far: 1

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He woke up first.

Unsurprising, since he was a king. It had always been his duty to wake up earlier than those in his company. It gave him the chance to note changes in a person’s demeanor. It gave him the chance to have his alone time, to take in the world around him without anyone getting in his way. The mind was best left to considerations and ponderings at this time and he was no different. His mind was focused wholly on changing his space.

He had a woman around.

He’d seen such actions with his soldiers and with his close advisors. When a man had a woman join him in his home, one of the first things to occur were décor changes. It was a manner from which a woman became comfortable in her environment. She would change a few pots and plants in the house. Perhaps she would grow something along the sills and fashion a new mead for the evening meals.

Soon, there would be new fabrics. He’d found that wives were often creatures of comforts. They liked cleanliness and order as wives. They preferred to have things fashioned into a structure and their husbands cared for in particular manners.

So, as he had his wife, he would need to show these signs.

It meant his room would alter. Things would be rearranged and his companion would need room for becoming comfortable.

His clothes were moved, several garments going back into the gates before he was evaluating the room again. Further clothing being moved would mean that he would have too little in options should he be weakened or wish not to waste his energy opening the gates.

Perhaps he needed to have his rooms expanded.

The rooms on the left and right of his own were nothing but storage. He could easily take the walls out to the left and right, repair the signs of the room being smaller, and add additional furnishings. Perhaps a fountain would be appropriate in here. The water would add a sense of life to the otherwise cold and inhuman facility.

Speaking of his wife, there was movement now.

She moved an arm. Then her head moved. His brunette was slowly moving to her side, pulling the blankets around herself a bit more.

Creature comforts. She seemed to enjoy the feel of his thick furs with their plush coats.

“Are you finally waking up?”

Those eyes closed tighter for a moment before he could see her looking over to him blearily. Slowly, she was awakening. Slowly, she was moving to sit up and rubbing at her eyes.

“Gilgamesh? What’s going on? What happened to that woman from before?”

Woman from before… did she mean that fool she’d been yelling at earlier?

“Gilgamesh-“

“The woman is gone. All of that world is gone.”

The brunette frowned at him, her eyes looking over the room.

“Welcome to Chaldea, humanity’s last defense against the problems that arise when magecraft tangles with the fabric of fate.”

“What happened to Tsukumihara Academy? Leo? Rin?”

He didn’t know what those things were, but they didn’t matter now, did they? He had removed her from that time and world. It would most likely cease to be, breaking apart at the seams and becoming destroyed.

“Gilgamesh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The woman stared at him, eyes wider. “You hate Leo. He sits in the council room. Rin looks like someone you know… or she acts that way. I don’t know. She has two twin tails that are a really dark brown, almost black. Tsukumihara Academy is where you saved me from being swallowed up by the darkness. We’re contrac-“

She paused as she looked at her hand.

“Are you looking for these?” Gilgamesh unbuttoned his shirt, presenting the red markings on his chest. “I have three of these command spells, I believe.”

“…wait.”

She was starting to panic, not a great sign for a woman he was going to claim as his own. The moving back against the headboard of his bed was also a bad sign.

Gilgamesh closed his shirt once more, buttoning it up once again.

“Calm yourself, these are simple command spells. You are still a mage and not a servant. I saved you while you were being stalked towards by a woman with purple hair-“

“BB.”

“Yes, well, I don’t care to entertain this. You’re becoming my wife.”

He may as well have told her that she was to be queen of Uruk for the look of shock that came over her. Her hands were gripping the furs of his bed further, her whole body tensing as she stared straight at him.

“Ah, I’m judging by your reaction that you are in awe of such a feat. I have looked at all of my contractors that I have had since I am in need of a companion and have chosen you. You’re far more amusing than any other, plus average enough. It is true I’m lowering myself to a point by choosing you, but I think you will come to show me the respect due.”

Nothing.

She stared at him further, her hand covering her mouth. Her eyes roamed over him, although it didn’t seem like a once over that a woman would give a man she intended to bed. It looked more like that of a woman seeing a beast descend, like she was looking for some sign of malady.

What was she thinking?

“…You have not introduced yourself,” Gilgamesh pointed out.

She blinked.

“Your name? Or do you need me to name you?”

“Hakuno. I’m Hakuno Kishinami. Which you should know already.”

“I have little time to care about my contractors, even less to remember their names and personalities. Hakuno, you are my wife now.”

“Why?”

Why?

Gilgamesh frowned at her.

She was being claimed as his wife. What did the reasoning behind this decision matter? She was being given an opportunity that would never occur for any other woman in the universe. A marriage exclusive. She would have him to herself. It was vulnerability. It was a humbling on his part. She could have had any personality. She could demand any single thing. He would be obliged as her husband to give it. That or kill her, which if she bothered him was possible.

“Gilgamesh-“

A knock was at the door, drawing their conversation to a stop.

“Oh stupid king,” Ishtar’s sing-songy voice rang out from the other side of the door. “Gudako’s planning to do experience grinding and wants all servants in the command room. You better hurry up.”

Hakuno frowned, her eyes going to him once again.

“I am a servant. You know this.”

“You have command spells though,” Hakuno pointed out.

He did. “Do not mention them to the others.”

“Why?”

Ishtar was pounding on his door again. He wasn’t sure why his master felt it appropriate to let the goddess harass him, but his respect for Gudako was falling by the minute. Gilgamesh moved closer to the bed to avoid having to speak up.

“Gil-“

“You are my wife. That is what is important at this time. Your job, as such, is to need me.”

The bemused look that came over that face was glorious. Dark, narrowed eyes, a pursing of the lips, a slight flare to her nostrils; she stared deep into the depths of his soul and showed every bit of a spine of steel.

Gilgamesh found himself snickering.

“You’re not funny.”

“I can be amusing,” he told her. “However, I am serious on this matter. My task for you is to need me. Change this room as you see fit. Demand things that bring you pleasure. You are to need and rely on me.”

“That’s a shitty wife.”

“Oh?”

“A wife should be a partner, someone who shares responsibility and stands at your side, not clings to your tacky zebra print shirt and cries for attention.”

The zebra print was fashionable…

Gilgamesh pulled another shirt from his gates, scoffing.

“Then you would rather be my contractor and my wife?”

“I was your contractor… And I don’t need a husband.”

“You have one anyway. The contracting will need discussion with Gudako.”

If anything, it would ensure that he wasn’t burned, but Gudako would be wary. Mages weren’t prone to appearing here, not as far as he was aware.

Ishtar was yelling one final time before he could hear her run off. Pest that she was, she wasn’t going to risk missing a meeting that Gudako had deemed vital for the servants.

“Come,” Gilgamesh offered his hand to the woman. “I need you dressed and I need to present you to my master before she finds out about you in some other manner.”

“I don’t like this.”

“You were brought here by me for the sole purpose of being with me. Bear that blessing and importance close as I bring you to that useless contractor of mine.”

He refused to let her leave his room until he had her adorned in jewelry to show her importance.

First impressions were vital, after all.

It was not every day that one presented their wife to their master and enemies.

#drabble #drabbles

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arysthaeniru · 4 years

Note

✨ and 💢 for botw!!

✨ what draws you towards your hyperfixation? what is interesting about it?

I’m constantly intrigued by the themes of legacy and growth that happen over and over again in Breath of the Wild? The main storyline is filled with themes of legacy, especially since all the Champions (except Teba, because the Rito are woefully incomplete as a section) are in the shadow of the former, dead Champions, and a lot of their story is coming to meet the weight of the past that has marked itself physically into the landscape? Rising to meet the memories and idolizations of martyrs and dead people. That’s basically one of the main basis of my research project as a PhD student: the weight of memory in people, but especially how it manifests in physical locations.

I also think that Link having amnesia is such a fascinating look at legacy of the self. I often feel overwhelmed by the expectations my past self had for me, and of course, Link’s journey is different. He’s literally forgotten who he was before, but I feel like a different person every year, and living up to the weight of your past failures is both daunting and freeing all at once, and Link is a fabulous little exploration of that? I constantly think about the joyless, stern Link we see in the flashbacks, and the stupidity of being the player and trying to find joy in the present? It’s a silliness that comes from knowing failure, and that’s fascinating to me.

It’s also just such a soothing, calming world to explore and filled with little secrets and funny NPCs. The music design is wonderful and minimal, and the scenery is consistently pretty. There’s something very beautiful about the world after the apocalypse in Breath of the Wild, and finding life in the ruins and making something new, just because you must, is such a theme that’s near-and-dear to my heart (which is why Diurnal Ending constantly makes me weep.)

I find the korok secrets some of the most delightful little motivational goals? In terms of game design, the shots of dopamine come frequently and are usually quite fun to wrangle into place, but unlike other collect-a-thon games, the korok seeds are actually useful for later gameplay. It’s a masterpiece not only of world design in general, but game design too.

The awe of coming across a dragon for the first time is like nothing else. The whole thing you do on Mount Lanayru is a genuinely breathtaking sequence.

💢 what do you NOT like about your hyperfixation? is there something you would want to change about it?

As they always do in Zelda games, the Gerudo have...weird, almost racist undertones to everything about them. Their outfits are stupid and overly horny, and the whole sequence of Link finding a disguise to get in is dealing with some BAD trans stuff. The fandom has done their best to make Link chill or make it better by making Link non-binary or trans! But it doesn’t change the fact that the person he gets his Gerudo clothing from,Vilia, is a bad trans stereotype. I also think about the fact that every Gerudo you meet who’s looking for love is actually deeply unsatisfied with whoever they find is awful? It’s get that it’s supposed to be funny, but it’s a weird message about settling that’s only applied to the brown women. Even though I LOVE the two main characters we get, Urbosa and Riju, the rest of it is...questionable.

In terms of bigger structural problems, I think Breath of the Wild’s main plot is....barebones at best? The Rito and the Gorons are not really fleshed out at all. The Rito especially have been shafted, since you end up knowing NOTHING about the current-day champion, Teba, and his problems. You do nothing in the Rito area in the build-up to fighting the Divine Beast, like you do in the other regions. It’s just often very rote and dull when you get to the plot, which is...sad? It means you just want to get the main plot stuff over with, so you can go back to the good gameplay and world design in the rest of it.

And even when they try very hard with plot, the Zora area is FILLED with boring, stupid dialogue that’s horribly telegraphed? At one point, one of the old Zora that hates you, Muzu, points out that it’s deeply convenient you get back your memories of fish-wife being in love with you when you’re trying to get him to help you with your mission, and I have to say, I 200% agreed with him! My god. None of the Zora section makes sense! They’re very old and stuck in their ways, everybody there hates Hylians, they can breathe in the water and in the air, because they’re amphibians. Why the FUCK do the Zora care about the dam breaking and the Divine Beast flooding Necluda? The only one that should care should be Sidon, and it should be you and Sidon doing your own thing against the express wishes of the rest of the Zora council. That would contribute to the theme of growing to meet the legacy of the Past Champions: doing the right thing even when it’s hard. This is not a difficult thing to realize, but it’s very clear that the development team did not care very much about the plot of this game.

I think the memories are repetitive and kind of dull too, and if you think about it too long, make absolutely no sense. How the hell did Zelda take a picture of Kara Kara Bazaar that’s completely empty, it seems to be a bustling world in her time too? When did she have time to take a beautifully serene picture of the Bottomless Swamp as they were running for their lives from the Calamity? Why does Impa seem to pretend that these were carefully selected memories that Zelda left for you, instead of random pictures left over from before that might jog your memories? If Zelda knew you were going to have amnesia after your time of slumber, why the hell is everybody else surprised by it????

This game is not perfect by any means. But what it does right, it does INCREDIBLY right, so I just seethe about these things I hate, and try to write fic to fix it xD

#botw #this is so long #i'm so sorry vince #i have a....lot to say about this game #and it's just so good #and also terrible all at once xD

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thecleverdame · 5 years

Text

Sleepy Hollow - Chapter Six

Series Master List

Pairings: Sam x Reader, mentions of Dean x Jo

Summary: In 1799, specialized police constables Sam and Dean Winchester are sent from New York City to a small town called Sleepy Hollow to investigate a series of murders. Approached by the town’s council, the Winchesters discover the local residents believe that the murders are the work of a deadly Hessian horseman whose head has been mysteriously chopped off. With help from the beautiful Y/N Van Tassel, Sam Winchester’s investigation takes him further through the dark wood where more murders have been occurring. What Sam does not realize is that the mysterious Horseman is being controlled by someone in a sinister plot to kill the most suitable men in the village.

Warnings: Canon-level violence, murder, smut, horror, gore and a little fluff for good measure.

Words: 40k

Beta: ilikaicalie

This series is completed. You can read it on my Patreon for a monthly pledge of 2.50. This pledge includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content. >> CLICK HERE <<

Van Tassel House - Sam’s Room

Sam is startled awake, frightened and sweating. He lies in bed staring at the ceiling wrapped in the darkness of the night. There’s a candle flickering beside the bed almost completely burned down to the chamberstick and the smell of sweet salve, it’s a tell-tale sign. Dean must’ve dressed his head wound. He gingerly touches his forehead, wincing when he gets close to the gash and shakes sleep away.

It’s dark outside the window. The fall from the horse knocked him for a loop but now he’s able-bodied and not sure he’ll be able to sleep any more. He gets up, dresses and heads out to explore the house at night.

Entering the kitchen, he sets his lantern on the table and sits down to open his father’s ledger. It’s only as he settles in that he notices a faint light coming from down the hall. -

Most nights you retreat to the sewing room. There’s no one about the house at this hour and your bedroom can often feel like a prison. So after everyone is asleep you sit by the fire and read until the early hours of the morning.

You don’t hear Sam approaching, he’s quiet as a mouse until the door creaks open and you nearly jump out of your skin. For a moment you think it’s your stepmother, only to be met with the face of the handsome Constable.

Slapping the book closed and tucking it in beside you in the chair, you sit at attention, watching him inch inside the door. “You scared me nearly half to death.” “Pardon my intrusion. I saw a light.” He smiles softly, a wonderful, gentle smile you wouldn’t expect from such a beast of a man.

“It is no intrusion. I come here to read when sleep eludes me.” You can’t help but feel a thrill as he steps closer. “Will you sit with me, Constable Winchester?”

You pat the sofa beside you, watching as he bites his bottom lip. He bows his head in confirmation, then he takes a seat.

“How would your fiance’ feel about you being alone with me?” Sam asks, awaiting the answer with bated breath. He cannot deny his interest in you, especially to himself.

“I believe I told you Brom had proposed, not that I ever accepted.” Looking him over you scoot to the side, making more room. “I would expect more attention to detail from a man of the law, Constable.” “You must call me Sam,” he offers, leaning close to get a better view of the volume you hid away. “You come here to read books which you must hide?” he grins, tilting his head to read the spine of the book in question. “The Knights of the Round Table...isn’t that for children?” “Not everything is as it appears.” You pick up the large book, taking another, smaller volume from inside. “It was my mother’s book. My father frowned at them when they were hers, he would frown at me now. He believes tales of romance caused the brain fever that killed my mother. She died two years ago come midwinter.” Sam nods, “I am very sorry. I saw it written in the front of the family bible.” “The nurse who cared for her during her sickness is the new Lady Van Tassel.” “There was something else too.” Sam can’t stop the investigator inside him. “Why did no one think to mention that Van Garretts are kit and kin to the Van Tassels?”

“Why because there is hardly a household in Sleepy Hollow that is not connected to every other by blood or marriage. I have more cousins than fingers and toes to count them on.” That thought seems to amuse him, cheeks rounding, dimples appearing. “What?”

“Dean is all the family I have the world.” He looks up, his eyes lingering for a moment too long.

A cock crows outside, dawn is coming soon.

“This land was Van Garrett Land, given to my father when I was in swaddling clothes,” you continue, eager to find any reason to keep him with you. Enjoying this sweet moment of privacy. “Given by the dead Van Garrett?” he inquires. “Yes,” you nod. “The Van Garretts were the richest family around these parts even then. When my father brought us to Sleepy Hollow, Van Garrett set him up with an acre, a broken-down cottage, and a dozen Van Garrett hens. My father prospered and built us a new house. I owe my happiness to him. I remember living poor in the cottage. Would you like to see it? I could take you there.” “Yes. I would like to see where you were as poor as I am.” He grins, unnaturally handsome and you want nothing more than to throw yourself at him.

Sam stands to leave and you stand too, revealing the book you had been reading. You give it a final look before handing it to him.

“Take this. It is my gift to you, Sam.” He carefully takes it from you, big hands curling around the spine as he reads the title: A Compendium of Spells, Charms, and Devices of the Spirit World. “I am grateful for the gift, but perhaps you should keep it. I have no use for it.” He steps closer to hand it back. “Are you so certain of everything?” You look at him, purposely holding his stare.

He inspects it, opening the cover and flipping to the back. There’s your name but in different handwriting is also the name Elizabeth Van Tassel.

“This was your mother’s?” He looks up, surprised.

“Keep it close to your heart.” You inch closer, nearer than you should be. “It is sure protection against harm.” His eyes narrow, looking from you to the book. “Are you so certain of everything?” “Almost always…” you whisper, tiling your head toward him like a plant hungry for the sun.

His lips meet yours in a single, longing kiss as his hand curls around your arm. He lingers for a fleeting moment, nuzzling his nose into your cheek before pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “I should go. It’s almost dawn and the staff will be waking. Being caught together as day breaks would certainly stir rumors.”

“I’ve never cared what people say about me.” You swim in the feeling of the kiss as he backs away.

“I will see you soon, Y/N.”

Sleepy Hollow Farmland

You and Sam make a pretty picture on horseback, riding slowly toward the ruins of the cottage you lived in as a child.

“I saw the photos on your desk,” you mention casually, watching him ride beside you. “Are they your family?”

“Yes, people I have lost.” He offers you a forced smile, hand tightening around the reigns. “My parents and someone I cared for.”

“A lost love?” you ask gently and he nods. “Did you lose her recently?”

“No, it was ten years ago now. But if I’m honest there are days when it feels as if no time has passed at all.”

“The heart heals slowly. There are days when I forget my mother is gone. Just this morning I had a fleeting thought. I wanted to tell her how excited I was to bring you here, only to remember that she is gone.”

“I know those moments as well.” He slows his horse as you approach the cottage. There’s almost nothing left but the hearth and part of a crumbling chimney.

Sam dismounts, turning to offer you a hand and help you off your horse. There’s a thrill at the feeling of his hands on yours and you’re about to let go when you notice little scars on his palm. You take his hand between your own, running your thumbs over the little dimples.

“These are strange,” you look up to him. “What are they?” “I wish I knew. I’ve had them since I can remember.”

You inspect him for a moment longer, before taking his hand into yours and leading him into the ruins of the cottage. Sam's attention is caught by a red cardinal on a branch, much like the bird he had in New York. He reflects a moment, then turns to watch you crouching by the hearth. You look back at him, threading the stem of a flower into your hair. “I used to play by this hearth. It was my first drawing school and my mother was my teacher.” Unwittingly, you’re mimicking Sam's dream. You pick up a twig and start drawing on the hearthstone, just as his mother did. His blood runs cold but you’re unaware of the effect it’s having on him. Then he notices the few small wildflowers growing in the old fireplace and feels short of breath, leaning against the stones for support. “Oh, look! I'd forgotten this.” You smile. “See, carved into the fire-back, the Archer.” Using your fingers you clean off the dirt around a simple carving of a man with a Bow and Arrow. “This was from long before we lived here.” You look to Sam, who’s pale as a ghost. “Are you alright?” He nods but says nothing. You’re about to press him when you spot the cardinal too.

“Look there!” you point. “They are my favorite. I would love to have a tame one, but I wouldn't have the heart to cage him. “Then I have something for you.” Sam unslings his satchel, watching your face light up. You’re too beautiful and vibrant a creature to be stuck in a dark place like Sleepy Hollow.

It’s a paper disk with a red bird on one side and an empty cage on the other. Both ends of the disk are pierced by a looped string so that the disk can spin and twist. It was his mother’s gift to him many years ago.

“Come here, let me show you.” He steps behind you, indulging as he presses his chest into your back, arms reaching around your waist. You hum to life at the sensation of his large body curled over yours.

“A cardinal on one side, and an empty cage on the other.” You watch with bated breath as he spins the disk. “And now…” Once he moves it fast enough the bird appears to be inside the cage. You’re thrilled and excited, tilting back to look up at him. “You can do magic! Teach me!” “It is not magic. It’s optics,” he chuckles, lowering his mouth to the side of your head, he’s close enough you can feel his breath on your temple. Sam gives you the toy and shows you how to spin it. “Separate pictures which become one when the picture spins. Like the truth which I must spin here.” He steps away, shifting to the side and watching while you spin the disk, the bird appears in the cage. “I may keep it?”

“Of course.” He confirms. “I’d give you anything you asked for to see you smile like this.”

His words send a flush to your cheeks and the disk in your hands is momentarily forgotten as you gaze at the handsome man before you.

“Anything?” you ask coyly.

“Anything.” His stare is unyielding, eyes fixed on yours.

“Another kiss?” you inquire, only to have him swooping down to pull you into his arms and his mouth close over your own. There’s a desperate passion that was not there this morning. This kiss stokes a fire in your belly, fanning the flame that his touch sparked in the sewing room.

You moan softly into his mouth, only to have him take advantage as his tongue slides past your lips, gliding, plunging, delving deeper and deeper until you’re breathless.

Before you know what’s happening his hand is on your stomach, pushing you back until you’re flush with the hearth, trapped between cold stone and the heat of his body. He pulls away with a pop, only to move down your jaw, drawing a breathless mewl from your lungs as he nips and sucks at the skin of your neck.

“Touch me,” you pant, fisting your hands in his hair.

Sam doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s wanted to kiss you, to ravage every inch of you, since the first moment he saw you. It’s a desire that’s only grown with time. He groans against the hot, sweating skin in the crook of your neck as his hand finds its way under your dress.

When his knuckles meet the soft skin of your thighs you gasp in response, pressing forward into his touch. Two fingers brush over the thatch of hair at your sex, scooping forward until he finds warm, wet flesh. You must want him as much as he desires you because you’re thoroughly slick.

“Sam,” you moan, spurring him on as those fingers thrust upward into the tightness of your channel. His thumb goes in search of your delicate pearl, sliding back and forth until you nearly squeal, two hands grabbing at his back confirming he’s found his target.

You can feel him inside you, two thick fingers thrusting in and out as he rubs your bud, bringing a wash of pleasure and wanton lust over every inch of you. You can also hear it, the sound of your sex taking his fingers and then the sensation of his mouth biting across the swell of your breasts.

If Sam had any less self-control he’d throw you to the ground and rip this ridiculous dress right off you. He’d fuck you here in the dirt, but he won’t. A woman as sweet as you deserves things like a bed and mattress.

He can feel it when you cum. You whimper, desperate cunt tightening around his knuckles, little sucking clenches that draw him deeper until you’re boneless in his grasp.

He pulls his hand from between your legs, sullied fingers on your throat as he hooks both hands under your jaw and kisses you again and again, swallowing every gasp and sigh until you’re lost in his mouth and his touch.

You spend the better part of the morning enthralled with each other, gentle touches and passionate kisses until the sun rises high overhead and you have no choice but to return home.

#sam winchester smut #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester au

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cela-astral-projection · 4 years

Text

And where was I before the day That I first saw your lovely face, Now I see it every day And I know

18+ under the cut

Asra and Celeste had always moved together. Like water. It didn't matter if it was still, like water in a jar, or a waterfall, vicious and roaring. They were always in sync. They didn't generally need words. They finished each other's sentences. She knew what he needed before he ever asked, and vice versa. They were a symphony. A ballet.

By contrast, Muriel and Celeste were a drum circle. Rhythm and cacophony. He was a stone, and she was the river that beat against him, smoothing his edges, pitting into his hard exterior. They kept each other corralled, or let each other run free. It wasn't an easy love. It was practiced and honed with years of effort. Neither of them ever questioned that it was worth it.

The three of them balanced each other out, for the most part. There were times when Muriel felt like both ends were playing against the middle. They, the ends, him the middle. Usually for his benefit.

When they had the girls, the dynamic had shifted. There was more love, but there was simply less time. Now, the girls were bigger. More independent. Finding time for one another was becoming less of a problem. It was just finding each other's rhythm again that had been a struggle.

Celeste was putting the girls down for bed. They were preparing for a trip to Nopal as a family. A tradition since the girls were big enough to travel. The trip was still a week off. But, Celeste was a planner. Especially now that she had little people that needed her.

Asra sat Muriel down. "You are taking your wife to Nopal. Tomorrow morning."

Muriel raised his eyebrows. "We're going next week?"

"No. I am going next week. The girls are going next week. You are going tomorrow. You're not papa for the next five days. And she's not a mama. She's not a nurse. She's your wife, your problem." Asra said, stern.

Muriel protested. "So you're going to run the house by yourself for a week?"

Asra scoffed. "Well, five business days. I'm just as much daddy as you are, thank you..." he said, then his eyes dropped. "Also...I mean, we're going to stay with my parents at the palace for a few days. So, not just me. Jadda and Titi...and Aunties Nadia and Portia. I'm sure Uncle Julian will make an appearance. So, don't worry about us. I don't know if there's a better place to play dress-up than at the Aunties. Tea parties at their house are the best. And I know tea. And...dress up."

It didn't seem like a terrible plan. But, he was still apprehensive. It had been a long while since he and Celeste had been well and truly alone. It was exciting. And daunting. The idea of leaving his babies seemed like...a lot.

Asra reached out and grabbed his hand, seeing the slight panic dancing across his features. "It is fine. You are going. And you are telling your wife that you are going. And it will be wonderful, and beautiful, and you can tell me all about it later. You are welcome." He reached up and patted Muriel's cheek, then leaned in to kiss him, reassuring.

Muriel still looked shocked, blinking.

Celeste had been more receptive than Muriel anticipated. Her exact words sounding filthy, like a breathy orgasm as she fell into his arms. "Oh, fucking yes. Take me. Fucking god. Yes. Fuck."

She had taken on...rather a lot. Five-year-olds were one thing. Two husbands were another. She still ran the finances and directed inventory for the shop as well as her full-time nursing job and consulting work for the district council in conjunction with the Palace.

She had nearly singlehandedly laid the groundwork and infrastructure for bringing children into care and vetting foster and adoptive families to get children out of the streets and off the docks.

Nearly singlehandedly. Muriel had actually made a couple nervous, but ultimately immensely effective, presentations about his personal history, which melted even the iciest hearts and loosened the tightest purse strings.

The prospect of not having to be in charge of anything for a few days was bliss.

Muriel was up before dawn, as he generally was before they went anywhere. A dad to his core, he was ready to go all night long, barely sleeping. Celeste wasn't much better, but she did stop to make tea before they set off. Asra, still half asleep, kissed them both soundly, and they stood in the quiet wrapped up in each other's arms for a few minutes. They didn't dare wake the girls, knowing they'd be off like a shot and having a come apart if they did, but asked Asra to give them their love.

They arrived by midday, after having to convince the Beast that Asra and the girls, were, in fact, coming, and going over the customary discussion of each other's scents.

Muriel went straight to bed. Boots off, riding cloak shed. Bare chest, in just his pants. Just laying in the sunlight, relaxed.

Celeste was in the cabinets. "I swear on all that is holy if all he has is the makings for rice pudding and tea I'm going to have a fit. It is too goddamn hot for rice pudding."

Muriel laughed. "We'll go to the market. I just want to lay here and relax." All his apprehension had melted away in the heat and dust. It was quiet. And warm. His large hand patted the mattress beside him. "Come here."

She leaned on the lower cabinets, arms crossed over her chest. He was so gorgeous. For the first time in a long time, she realized just how much she missed him. Of course, she saw him every day. But, this was different. They didn't get to be like this, just the two of them, very often. She crossed the house and climbed onto the bed beside him, laying on her stomach, head propped up in her hands.

He looked at her through heavy-lidded eyes. She seemed to glow in the warm light. He drew a deep breath. He turned onto his side and reached up to stroke a tendril of hair behind her ear. At her temples, there were streaks of silver and white. That had started as soon as the girls were born. She was in her late 30's now, and there was quite a lot of silver in her dark hair. Not that he had much room to talk.

For her, their first meeting was in front of the shop under the cover of darkness. Him delivering a mysterious warning. She had told him, once, that was the moment she knew that she was going to fuck him senseless. A promise she'd kept to herself on innumerable occasions in the years since.

The second time was him telling her essentially to get the fuck out of his house. Glad they were past that stage.

But for him, it was in a dark, dank cell. A 19-year-old girl that Asra had dragged into his mess. She was very pretty. Slight. Young. But, sharp as a whip.

He didn't want to be seen. But, she had seen him. Like Asra had seen him. And he had fought her. But, she had worn at him. She always looked out for him. Treated him like a friend. Like a lover.

He had been jealous of her, in the beginning. Worried that she was going to take Asra and leave him in the dark. But, then she would come alone. She didn't care if he was hurt, or angry, or scared. She would simply sit in the dark, her back resting against the bars of his cell, her hand between them, reaching out. It took years for him to relent to her touch.

"On your 21st birthday, you said the only thing you wanted was to kiss me. For good luck."

She blinked rapidly. They had talked about his memories before, but she didn't know this story. "Good luck?"

"My good luck. I was going into the arena in the morning. You came to celebrate your birthday with me the night before. You brought me a cake. A little one. A packed dinner. It was dangerous. Lucio liked to come before a fight and...prod me, so I'd put on a better show." He said, his eyes flashing dark for a second. "And you said, 'Fuck him. It's my birthday. He'll let someone else have a party for once.'"

Celeste laughed. It sounded like her.

"And then, you said you wanted to kiss me. Lucio didn't come. So, you said you had too much birthday luck, and you wanted to share it with me. I was a blushing...nervous wreck."

"Sounds about right." She said, teasing. "And you let me get my way?"

He nodded. "It was...perfect. You were perfect. And so patient. And sweet. I knew if I died the next day it would be worth it. And I felt like my heart was going to explode on the spot.” He drew a shaky breath, the visual of her in his mind. He smiled. “Of course, I found out later you had one of the guards cause a distraction so he couldn't make it down that night. We were never in any real danger."

Her eyes glistened a bit. She wished she remembered. But, it was such a sweet story, all the same. She wished she knew that girl. She seemed like a spitfire.

"I told Asra the next time I saw him. I thought he might be upset...but I felt like it would have been a lie not to. We had our thing, and he had his thing with you and I didn't know how that would work. And...he was thrilled. Shocked the hell out of me." His finger was running up and down her cheek. She had lines at the corners of her eyes, and a deep notch between them, but she was still the same. The same green-eyed girl staring back at him. "I feel like I should have known that we were meant to be together. But it was hard to know anything, then."

"But you know, now. " She said, staring straight into his eyes, enraptured.

"I have never been more certain of anything in my whole life," He said, hooking his finger under her chin. "You?"

"You are everything my soul thirsts for." She replied, letting him draw her in.

It was a soft, slow kiss, but it built quickly. Her hands in his hair, his arms around her waist, rolling her down under him. His stubble raked across her face as the kisses increased their roughness. She had never been bothered by a little stubble burn on her cheeks. Even better when it was on her thighs.

It was his hands that were her absolute weakness. Strong, big hands. Rough. The way they caressed her body. Cupped her breasts. When she was young, they absolutely dwarfed her breasts, and they were quite large for her frame then. The fact that he could palm them still, after two babies and this many years was quite a feat indeed. And he knew. After all this time, he knew exactly what buttons to press. So many mornings, awakening to a hand at her nipple, the other around her hip, stroking her clit, his cock hard between her thighs. Slow, quiet lovemaking in the early morning light. Rough hands across the planes of her stomach, holding her thighs apart, gripping her hips.

She didn't have the pleasure of remembering his body as a young man. He was an adult all the time she knew him. He had been hard. Achingly, luxuriously hard. Muscles and lines. Even his scars were magnificent. She had kissed every inch of his body so many times. She knew every piece of him. She knew his taste. His scent. His movement.

But, he was softer now. Sometimes, she would look in the mirror and feel that time was a cruel mistress to her own body. But, on him...his slight belly, the fat covering hard muscle...age suited him. He was a man that looked contented, nourished, healthy. There was no doubt of his raw power. But, he looked more approachable. Even more handsome. More beautiful, to her. The grey was just icing on the very delectable cake.

He knew how she looked at her body. She was still young. But, motherhood had taken a toll, and she had started going grey early, as he had. She was wider through her hips and thighs, and his fingers sunk into her soft flesh. She had stretchmarks across her chest, her arms, her hips, her thighs. Dark lines on her tawny skin. Her areolas were darker, now. Her nipples longer. The idea of those marks being his responsibility, the mark of bearing his children, was remarkable to him.

They had been so careful since the girls were born. Potions all around and watching her cycles. Anything to prevent conception.

Now, they had been toying with the idea of another baby. They had stopped tracking, stopped the conception potions. They told themselves not to get their hopes up. Whatever happened, happened.

Their embrace was passionate but lazy. Clothes being drug off of their bodies, tossed haphazardly around the room. He groaned, irritated when his hand came upon her brassiere. The one new thing she had started wearing after the girls. She had always been so accessible to him. No frilly panties, no lacy bras. But, she had relented. She said her breasts looked garish and unprofessional. Afraid she wouldn't be taken seriously. He loathed it. Of course, it was pretty. But it wasn't Celeste.

"Fucking take it off or I'll rip it off." He said in a deep heady rumble. It wouldn't be the first time. His fingers weren't exactly adept at undoing the fastenings. And they weren't exactly inexpensive, so she had to put a stop to that particular habit quickly, thrilling though it was the first couple times.

She brought her hand to her chest, snapping the clasp in front. Her breasts spilled out, and she wriggled beneath him, sliding the straps down her arms and tossing it away. When she had settled, his mouth found her nipple, holding her breast in his hand. He laved his tongue over the rosewood tinted nub, feeling it raise and the flesh contract.

He was just glad she was letting him touch her breasts again. For so long they had been the sole property of the girls, and then they had deflated, no longer milk heavy. They still had a beautiful shape, in his mind, but it wasn't his mind that had mattered. It was after this that she had started wearing bras and foundation garments. Thankfully, it was only when she knew she had to be out. At home, she was more relaxed. All the same, he hated it.

He suckled at the flesh, and she raked her fingers over his scalp, staring down at him lovingly. He was a big man, but he knew exactly how he fit against her body. Heavy, but never crushing. She loved feeling his weight on her. It was encompassing. Warm. Firm. Secure.

They lay that way for a long while, him alternating between each breast, his free arm behind her back, fingers winding in her hair. It was a comfort for him, she had learned over the years. He was so worshipful of her breasts like he was in a trance.

He had been enraptured when her milk had come in and disappointed when it had gone. Not that she had been receptive to his advances when she was nursing. Her breasts had already been aching most of the time, and the idea of a grown man taking his place in line after two ravenous infants was a bridge too far. She had allowed it when she was weaning the girls, and he seemed so damn grateful she had wept every time, her heart full to bursting to see his joy.

When Muriel gave up his ministrations, he rolled away from her, onto his back. He looked out the window. The sun was still high, but he knew it was getting late. But he wasn't ready to go. He'd have to speed things up to get in everything he wanted to do to her before they had to go to bed hungry. The idea of rice pudding was utterly repulsive to him as well. The idea of subsisting on each other's bodies was a lovely sentiment, but he needed to eat real food.

She laid beside him, head on his shoulder, her hand running up and down his chest, tickling the coarse hairs with the tips of her fingers. His nipples hardened. His hair stood on end. His skin went goose-pimpled.

She watched his cock twitch, still only half-hard between his meaty thighs. She traced the line of hair that lead to the thick thatch of dark hair that nestled it. Her fingers circled the base, as far as she could stretch them, thumb stroking up and down. She felt it pulse under her touch. Such a big cock. She wondered if the novelty of it would ever wear off. This cock on this man. Her luck was ridiculous. It was beautiful. The flesh was silky. The veins were pronounced. The head a beautiful, dusky brown. Just the idea of it was often enough to make her slick with want, but seeing it, even after all this time, was beyond words. The idea of it buried in her cunt...

She made a quiet whimper, eyes heavy. Gods, she wanted him.

She stroked her fingers up and down, her touch still light. He swelled and stretched in her hand. He gave a moan, head rolling back. She knew he liked her to grip it tighter. This was a tease. And an effective one. Her delicate, long fingers still not long enough to fully circle his dick. Her touch too soft.

He was fully erect, now. Beads of precome slicking the tip. She began to stroke him in earnest. Moving faster. Holding him tighter.

His hand caught her wrist. His breath was shallow. He turned his face to her, and she stared in his eyes. He rolled her back, knee between her thighs, spreading them. She drew her knees up on either side of him, using her hands to hold them in place. He ran the head of his cock along her outer lips, through the curls. He pushed them apart, feeling the dampness between. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring it. She was ready for him. He knew this sensation. He knew it in his bones.

He sank into her, and she moaned his name. He shuddered as it rang in his ears. Again. Muriel. Muriel. Each slow thrust, another breathy little prayer. His name. Muriel. Muriel. Muriel. He never tired of his name in her mouth.

As he picked up speed, her noises turned to keens and moans, wanton. It was a song. He watched her face. Her eyes rolling back in her head. He was stretching her, filling her. She was soaking wet, and he glided in her. It was smooth, and yet aching. He buried himself to the hilt over and over. His sack slapping against her as he lost control. Her nails bit into the soft flesh of her thighs, holding them up, tight, wanting him as deep inside her as he could go.

She felt him as his movements hitched and slowed. He seemed to swell inside her for just a moment. He ground his teeth, making a strangled noise as he came, flooding her with his come. His head dropped to her shoulder, his lips at her neck. She hooked her legs around his hips, holding him inside. The thick, copious fluid seeped out and dripped down onto the sheets below them.

As he came down, he pressed kisses against her neck, murmuring 'I love you' against her skin. She had her arms around his chest smoothing her hands along his back.

They lay entwined for a long while, contented. He laid his head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat. Asra's heartbeat. He wondered if he was at home and could feel the way it fluttered and raced as he fucked their wife, even all these miles away.

Celeste knew he could. She also knew what he did when he knew what was going on. She had been on the receiving end of it many times. Having to excuse herself because they had decided that a mid-day fuck was a great idea while she was at work.

The idea of Asra, at home, cock in hand, was almost enough to get her going again. The idea of him, cock in hand, silently cursing them as he tried to be quiet in his parent's spare bedroom, on the other hand, was a bit sobering.

Confirmation came when they went to wash, and there was a very frustrated, but amused, face staring up at them from the washbasin. "You're both terrible and you're never going on vacation by yourselves again."

#apprentice x muriel #reader x muriel #apprentice oc #oc #mc #apprentice celeste #celeste #the arcana #the arcana game #fanfiction #muriel #asra alnazar #apprentice x asra x muriel

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stacks-reviews · 6 years

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New Releases 11/7/17

Happy New Release Day!

In Books --Descending Stories: Showa Genroku Rakugo Shinju Volume 4 by Haruko Kumota “After Sukeroku’s expulsion, Kikuhiko’s path to stardom seems clear, but the idea of inheriting the Yakumo name is a cold comfort. Sukeroku, disgraced, makes the heartbreaking decision to put his art aside and take responsibility for his new relationship with Miyokichi. As years pass and distance grows, Kikuhiko decides it’s up to him to bring his friend back to the theater. His determination takes him to the country, where Sukeroku now lives with his spirited young daughter. Kikuhiko is ready to stay as long as he needs to convince Sukeroku, but old wounds may come back to haunt them both.”

I haven’t had a chance to pick up volume 3 yet because we did not get a copy in where I work. And I haven’t had a chance to order it yet either.

--Fantastic Beasts Illustrated Edition When I first head about this illustrated edition I thought it was going to be of the movie Fantastic Beasts so I wasn’t very interested in this one. But it turns out it is for all of the creatures mentioned throughout the HP universe. Now I really want this one. Just not sure when I’ll be able to.

--My Hero Academia Volume 10 by Kohei Horikoshi “The League of Villains has kidnapped Bakugo, and the resulting negative publicity has thrown U.A. into a huge uproar. With the public’s trust in heroes threatened, the faculty convenes to figure out what to do. But Midoriya and the students of Class 1-A have plans of their own - an operation to rescue Bakugo that could get them thrown out of school.”

Picking up right where volume 9 ended. Midoriya and his crew try to take back Bakugo but fail. And a few pro heroes are lost in the conflict. After their recovery in the hospital some of Class 1-A devise a plan to legally (meaning without using their powers) to try and save Bakugo. Which sounds like a bad idea all around.

It’s a really good volume that ends on an evil cliffhanger. I need volume 11 but that won’t be out till 2/6/18.

--Perfect Shadow by Brent Weeks “Gaelan Starfire is a careful, quiet, simple farmer. He’s also an immortal, peerless in the arts of war. Over the centuries, he’s worn many faces to hide his gift, but he is a man ill-fit for obscurity.

When Gaelan must take a job hunting down the world’s finest assassins for the beautiful courtesan and crime lord Gwinvere Kirena what he finds may destroy everything he’s ever believed in.”

I HAVE BEEN WAITING YEARS FOR THIS MOMENT. I love Brent Week’s Night Angel Trilogy so when I heard there was a prequel novella I was pretty excited. Until I noticed it was ebook only; after a brief limited printing run that I found out much later on. But after waiting and waiting, it is back in print. Right when I was about to break down and buy it digitally. I am ecstatic to finally have it to go with the others. Now I just wish I had the trilogy in hardcover. I just have them in the mass market paperback box set.

It includes the novella Perfect Shadow and a Night Angel short called I, Night Angel.

--Renegades by Marissa Meyer “The Renegades are a syndicate of prodigies - humans with extraordinary abilities - who emerged from the ruins of a crumbled society and established peace and order where chaos reigned. As champions of justice, they remain a symbol of hope and courage to everyone...except the villains they once overthrew.Nova has a reason to hate the Renegades, and she is on a mission for vengeance. As she gets closer to her target, she meets Adrian, a Renegade boy who believes in justice - and in Nova. But Nova's allegiance is to a villain who has the power to end them both.“

From the author of the Lunar Chronicles series comes a new series. I really like the Lunar Chronicles. I recommend it a lot at work. Though I still need to finish it. Cress (book 3) has been sitting on my shelf for a little while but I’ve been trying to focus on the arcs I have. And have been failing. Anyway, I really like her other series and am excited to try out a new series by her.

--Twinkle Star Volume 4 by Natsuki Takaya “The second semester of school is starting, and Chihiro's kinder attitude toward Sakuya is making her heart race! When he recommends her a book to read, she's positively overjoyed. But on the way home from a night of stargazing with the Star Appreciation Club, Chihiro suddenly approaches her! What does he want to talk about...?”

After this just one more volume of this series should remain. I still haven’t had time to go past volume 1 of this series. I’ve had to put a lot of series on hold while I tried to cut back during the second half of this year. I will pick it back up again someday. Hopefully by next year.

In Movies/TV Shows --Cheer Boys “Catch an exciting new take on the high-flying team sport, inspired by a real all-male squad in Japan. When Haruki Bando and his friend Kazuma leave judo martial arts, no one would have guessed they would turn to cheerleading! Rocking the college campus with a killer routine, these amateurs manage to draw in a crowd and enough new members to compete in regionals.”

I started streaming this on Funimation during its season. I watched about half before I got into another gaming kick and haven’t picked it up again yet. I did like what I saw of it but it probably isn’t my favorite sports series. But I think it is still worth checking out.

--Project Ito: Genocidal Organ “In Genocidal Organ, while developed countries rely on advanced surveillance to free them from the threat of terrorism, other nations are plagued by genocide within their own borders. Strangely, these massacres all link back to one American by the name of John Paul. Special agent Clavis Shepherd is sent to capture the target, but nothing can prepare this soldier—or the world—for the truth behind humanity’s darkness.”

The third and final Project Ito film. At least for now. I have been waiting on this one ever since the films were announced. I did watch Empire of Corpses and enjoyed it. Though I need to rewatch it soon because when I first watched it I was exhausted from work and kept having to rewind cause I kept nodding off for a few minutes at a time. I finally picked up Harmony a few months back but haven’t had time to start it yet.

--Revolutionary Girl Utena Set 2 “Utena and Anthy have become close during their time as roommates. So when Anthy casually mentions she has a brother, Utena can’t help but feel shocked. She thought she knew Anthy, but the longer she and Anthy are friends, the more she discovers she doesn’t know. What other secrets could Anthy be keeping? However, Utena won’t have time to dwell upon such matters. A new group of duelists has emerged from the shadows. These new challengers wear black rose signets and also seek revolution, but their methods are different than those of Ohtori’s Student Council. They don’t wish to possess Rose Bride. They are want kill her.”

Set 2 of the 20th Anniversary is now out. Contains episodes 13-24 of this great series. I have only seen it once all the way through. It is one of those series that you’ll have to watch over and over to get all the references and to catch all the imagery it contains.

--Westworld S1 “Set at the intersection of the near future and the reimagined past, explore a world in which every human appetite, no matter how noble or depraved, can be indulged without consequence.”

Season 1 of this series is out today. I don’t have the channel that it is on so I haven’t had a chance to check it out yet. I’ve heard nothing but great things about so I can’t wait to try it out sometime. Though I would like to watch the movie it is based on before I try out the show. I have heard the soundtrack before because we used to have it as an in-store-play where I work. It is an awesome soundtrack. It was a staff favorite and we played it a lot.

--Your Name “Mitsuha and Taki are complete strangers living separate lives until they suddenly switch places. Mitsuha wakes up in Taki’s body, and he in hers. This occurrence happens randomly, and they must adjust their lives around each other. Yet, somehow, it works. They build a connection by leaving notes for one another until they wish to finally meet. But something stronger than distance may keep them apart.”

Was very disappointed when this came out in theaters because it never came anywhere close to where I live. I don’t think it played anywhere in my state for that matter. I did pick up a copy because I want to know if it really is worth the hype. I haven’t watched it yet because I decided to wait till my friend and I could get together to watch it together.

There is a standard version (DVD and a combo pack) as well as an LE. The LE, “contains two-piece double-sided collectible chipboard box with rainbow holographic finish.” Like what they did for Death Parade’s LE. Which both are nice but makes me nervous that it would fall out if I picked it up wrong. It also comes with a 60 page art booklet, an art digipack, and a two disc OST. The second OST is shorter. It has five songs; if I remember correctly, that are sung in English by RADWIMPS.

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israelgcgq059-blog · 4 years

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7 Answers to the Most Frequently Asked Questions About digimon world dawn

Gotta Catch 'Em All

No doubt that, the attraction of online flash games will not end. With over a 1000 Digimon to choose from, there can be something for everybody in the wonderful world of Digimon. With all sorts of cool Digimon, highlighted in the anime, manga, video games, and card game, it could be hard to narrow it right down to just 10, but with some effort and determination, we could actually discover 10 that represented every facet of the series. Which Digimon do you consider is the coolest? Are there any Digimon you think must have been on the list? Tell us in the comments below. A sequel to the popular anime series which accumulates after a 2 . 5 calendar year timeskip. Naruto returns to the Konoha village after teaching under Jiraiya. He still hasn't abadndoned Sasuke, who now became a member of forces with Akatsuki to achieve his own goals. However, Naruto is in more danger than ever as Akatsuki increase their attempts to hunt the Tailed Beasts.

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Digimon World 4 is a hack and slash video game which is way better if you have a friend or friends to play it with. I did enjoy the game, but it was fairly damn hard to create it through to the end by myself. By the time it is possible to get digivolved forms you will have likely finished the story and they only utilize the same weapons and special attacks anyway. It is a weird entry for the series and if you like these kind of games continues to be fun. The overall game of Five Stones is certainly used five small triangular fabric bags filled with seeds, rice or sand. Each player has to throw a bag in to the air, and then quickly grab another bag on the ground before catching the first one on its way down. The game continues as the participant repeats the actions by grabbing two luggage on the ground, and so on.

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youtube

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January 31 - Digimon World: Next Order is definitely released in THE UNITED STATES for the PlayStation 4. In 1999, a short film predicated on the virtual house animals known as Digimon Adventure premiered. However, soon after the film's storyboard was finished in 1998, suppliers at Toei Computer animation were requested to turn it into a television series. The trading cards market is certainly dominated by a little number of notable businesses. These leading companies include Topps, Leaf Candy Firm, Donruss, Fleer, and Upper Deck. These businesses, while known mainly for their sports cards, non and actually produce sports-sports series.

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March 24 - Digimon Links is released in Japan for Smartphones. It generally does not take a lot to win a combat in Digimon: ReArise, the most recent digital monster video game for iOS and Android devices. As long as your party is properly leveled up, the auto-battle function breezes through the turn-based group battles. The real challenge in Digimon: ReArise can be collecting, raising, and schooling an ever-expanding horde of multi-colored creatures, evolving them from pretty small balls into humanoid numbers with rocket launchers installed on their shoulders.

#digimon world ds rom

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amaetheon · 7 years

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The biggest models are the current days king and queen, while the smaller colour palettes are the original Solgaleo and Lunala that came to Alola, and the children of the king and queen that star in the story. I imagine Solgaleo and Lunala are a common type of Ultra Beast, and that they have a clan mentality there where queens and kings look after the offspring of other Ultra Beasts. The two originals managed to get to Alola from an accidental wormhole that their friend Necrozma made, but decided to stay and live in the new region because they loved it so much! Now one thing to note, the current day Solgaleo and Lunala are not the children of the two originals , they are two random Cosmog chosen by Arceus to continue the royal family's line after Necrozma betrays his two friends. Hopefully that will be a story I can explore more later.

ALSO ANNOUNCEMENT FOR THOSE ENTERED IN MY CONTEST. A few individuals have asked for more time because of family-related issues, so I'm prolonging it for the end of the month. If you still have an outstanding entry, please get it in. :]

Now for the information dump, oh boy.

Original Lunala

Height : 13'01"

Weight : 264.6 lbs.

Ability : Shadow Shield

Personality : The original Lunala loved life and everything in it. She was also very trusting, a trait which would lead to her death. Despite not knowing the language or abilities of the world she came to live in, she loved learning and adapting to her surroundings. She was fascinated by every little thing, because she saw the beauty in even the heart of darkness. She also had the unique personality that let her be friends with legends like Necrozma and Kyogre, both who are perceived as stuck up and bitter.

Battle Effectiveness : The original Lunala preys on her opponent's weakness by using Hypnosis. She believes an incapacitated opponent is the easiest one to defeat, so she'll abuse Dream Eater as her main method of attack. She sees Moongeist Beam as a sacred move and refuses to use it except when absolutely necessary. She'll never lead an attack, but she will act as support on the sidelines.

Special Abilities : As an Ultra Beast that had grown up in Ultra Space, Lunala is able to do a lot of things that would be seen as magic to the outside world. She can regenerate lost limbs and wounds with ease, can teleport with the flap of her wings instantly, and can take and give energy to the world around her. She also has full control over the moon and sea.

Backstory : After accidentally stepping into a wormhole that transported her, her husband, a Cosmog herd, and Necrozma into the mortal plane, Lunala was forced to live out her days as a mock Legendary Pokemon. She befriended the grudged island guardians and worked to make Alola a place that was desirable to live in. Soon the native Pokemon began to welcome her into their fold, and she was praised as the queen of the moon. She didn't actually find out there were other legends alive until Kyogre happened to swim by the island one day. She and her family were taken to Arceus, who allowed them to stay so long as they checked in with the council every year. Kyogre and her ended up becoming best friends despite their amazing differences. She never expected she'd be betrayed, but after Necrozma was able to link a portal back home her former friend wished to lay destruction on the land he called a prison. The three fought, but the hoard of Ultra Beasts proved too much. She was slain at the scene, along with her children, and left as a sign of what would happen to those who tried to leave Necrozma.

Moveset : Moongeist Beam, Hypnosis, Dream Eater, Moonlight

Lunala (Natsuki)

Height : 13'01"

Weight : 264.6 lbs.

Ability : Shadow Shield

Personality/Backstory : Natsuki (named after Johto's moon) started off as a youngster, happy as could be, though life soon gave her a bad hand of cards. She was thrust into a leadership position at a young age because she was the strongest female Cosmog alive at the time and was taken from her nest in Alola to grow up with her mentor. As soon as she was old enough to learn Moongeist Beam she was taken from said mentor, Lugia, and asked to rule alone on a desolate island. Loneliness ate at her conscious and she tried hard to make friends. However, because she was an Ultra Beast, no one would talk to her except Ho-Oh and Lugia. Both were taken from her when the Brass Tower burned down, and her isolation made her paranoid and cryptic. It got worse when her first litter died stillbirth deaths, leading her to believe that Arceus and the Undertaker were mocking her. All of these negative feelings fed on her paranoia and when Xerneas mocked at the next legendary council’s meeting, she lashed out, declaring all outsiders to be against her. The battle between her and Xerneas left her eye and body scarred, and Arceus ordered her to leave she did so bitterly. From that point forward she refused to attend meetings and isolated all Alolan legends on the island. She’s a worrier to the extreme, and extremely protective of her children. The only legends she trusts are her husband and Lugia (and temporarily Cresselia).

Battle Effectiveness : Her battle technique is remain out of sight and out of mind, only coming out to attack when her opponents are distracted. This helps her get the upper hand in many situations, and she'll often rely more on Phantom Force than Moongeist Beam. Her darker coat also allows her to blend in with the shadows, a trait her daughter lacks. She abuses this power in nearly every fight, since her crippling defences mean she can be taken out in a few good hits.

Special Abilities : She has the same abilities as the previous queen, but her Ultra Beast abilities are severely weakened because she chooses not to use them. She can teleport but not instantly, she can only take life and not give, and she can only partially heal wounds. Her connection to the moon is stronger though.

Moveset : Moongeist Beam, Moonlight, Phantom Force, Moonblast

Baby Lunala (Mahina)

Height : 13'01"

Weight : 264.6 lbs.

Ability : Shadow Shield

Personality : Mahina is nothing like her mother. She trusts strangers and loves meeting new people. She also loves proving herself and trying to out do her brother so she comes off as the strongest of the duo. She's very loud and makes a lot of squealing noises to draw attention to herself, something she thrives on. Mahina believes there's a bit of good in everyone. She's also a natural caretaker, as she's been looking after her mother since she evolved into a Lunala.

Battle Effectiveness : She is much tinier in comparison to her mother, but also more bulky. She prefers to ram into opponents with her speed and get as many hits in before fleeing. Her defence is her main concern, so she relies heavily on Moonlight to restore health before firing off many related Moonblasts as possible.

Special Abilities : She has the same abilities as her mother, but has basically lost all of her Ultra Beast powers. She later, however, recovers the ability to use her third eye after digging deeper into the roots of what it means to be a Lunala.

Moveset : Moongeist Beam, Moonblast, Moonlight, Cosmic Power

Original Solgaleo

Height : 11'02"

Weight : 507.1 lbs.

Ability : Full Metal Body

Personality : Though definitely more reserved than his wife, the original Solgaleo was a happy soul. He and his wife would love to go out and explore as a team, and he had a lot of love in him for his family. Even the Cosmog herds, all of which he was not related to, were given a share of his love, and he took his role as a guardian protecter very seriously. He did take more caution when it came to friends, but never faulted in trying to make everyone feel as though they were welcome. There was some xenophobia present in legends like Groudon when he first arrived, but he soon proved him and many others wrong, eventually befriending them. The love he had for his wife knew no bounds, and he died covering her body to stop Necrozma from desecrating her corpse.

Battle Effectiveness : Solgaleo is not frail, but has to keep his defences strong. Sunny Day gives him more of an advantage, but also opens up his weakness to fire. He relies a lot on Morning Sun to keep him healthy and strong, and rarely uses Sunsteel Strike unless it's an emergency.

Special Abilities : Like his wife he can heal wounds with ease, teleport, and take and give life to the world. He's also in control of the sun and monitoring how much sun is given to the plants. He can accidentally open portals if he releases enough energy at sunhigh. His coat is so light it glows even in pitch black darkness.

Moveset : Sunsteel Strike, Morning Sun, Sunny Day, Solarbeam

Solgaleo (Haru)

Height : 11'02"

Weight : 507.1 lbs.

Ability : Full Metal Body

Personality : Haru (named after Johto's sun) is much more laid back compared to his wife, but he too is tired of the constant fighting and bickering between them and others. His ragged coat reflects his mind, tired and seeking peace in a life that's granted him none. He's not a slacker, but he is reluctant to do much of anything. He's much more submissive compared to his wife, and won't stand up for his ideals because it creates noise. He tries to be a good father because of his wife's crippling mental illness, but even as their sole role model he can fall into pits of depression now and again. He wasn't close to his mentor like Natsuki was, so Ho-Oh's "death" didn't have much of an impact on him, those it did train him to fear humans.

Battle Effectiveness : He's not as attack oriented as the original king, but has trained himself to use Flare Blitz to combat stronger foes. Because he hates fighting, he'll often try to use Noble Roar to scare opponents into leaving him alone, and if that doesn't work, he'll fire off Sunsteel Strikes.

Special Abilities : He has full control over the sun and has some of his Ultra Beasts abilities like being able to heal and give life back into the earth, but has lost the ability to transport. He also cannot make portals of his own will, but can enter and live in the Ultra Space without any trouble.

Moveset : Sunsteel Strike, Morning Sun, Noble Roar, Flare Blitz

Baby Solgaleo (Kala)

Height : 11'02"

Weight : 507.1 lbs.

Ability : Full Metal Body

Personality : Kala is easily excitable and loves the thrill that comes from hunting. He can't stand being indoors and prefers associating with nature at all times. He's also a legend that loves fighting, when unavoidable. As a Solgaleo wearing scars is seen as a badge of honour, and he takes a great deal of pride in his chest scar. He's sweet with his sister Mahina, and the two share a friendly rivalry. He wishes he had more time with her, but funnels this enthusiasm and want into his fighting. He'll stop at nothing to protect her and their family, and always tries to impress his sickly parents to make them smile.

Battle Effectiveness : Kala is more steel-type focused, and loves to have his opponent at a disadvantage. This is present in Metal Burst and Flash Cannon, both which have the chance of lowering the opponent's stats. He's offensive, often getting up close and trying to soak up hits while dealing the most amount of damage as possible. He's got a lot of spirit, and doesn't give up until the bitter end.

Special Abilities : He has the same abilities as his father, but has basically lost all of his Ultra Beast powers.

Moveset : Sunsteel Strike, Morning Sun, Flash Cannon, Metal Burst

#solgaleo #lunala #legendary pokemon #alola #pokemon #referneces #my art

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quarantinecountry · 4 years

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Notes from a quarantine country // n. 6

The full lockdown we went through in March was strange but, in the end, tolerable; the easing up of the codes of conduct this week removed the burden of the watchful eyes from balconies and the fear of looming authoritarian tools, from tanks to apps and drones. But the in-between was hard. As activists we’ve been extremely busy – visiting the homeless shelters, supporting food banks, taking on food distribution, helping people access the new and hastily assembled forms of welfare support. We left our homes and, to varying degrees, reclaimed parts of our collective life. This, however, has forced us into a growing realization that in the end, whatever our governments may say, decree or ban, decisions about how to absorb and confront contagion end up as a choice much closer to home, and often individual. And that means bearing the uneasy burden of autonomy, one that can easily push you off balance. Having to lay down your own rules and boundaries of physical contact and exercise, of planning daily life according to impossible calculations of contagion is very different from planning according to a nation’s laws – emergency, non-sensical, justified or otherwise.

There have been police road blocks and document-checking here in a way that, as I understand, other European countries have not experienced so widely, brought on no doubt by Italy’s being caught out as Europe’s canary – but this quite patent removal of freedom has not been, I think, the condition from which we have been eager to escape. The surrealness is mainly internal. I feel like my character, my persona, formed like anyone else’s for a myriad of human interactions, is largely obsolete, like I’m covered in excess skin. In a world of limited sociality, only some of your aspects are called upon. Conflict and warmth, humour and solemnity exist but take on a limited few forms. Anna Freud said somewhere that we all draw on ten or twelve defense mechanisms every day to protect our ego; even here I feel like my arsenal is diminishing. I think this is the feeling from which we all want to break free, this metamorphosis in reverse.

Sicily has remained in what is, perhaps, a unique position: our island seclusion marked by the shock of the national epidemic means that we quite possibily have, in global terms, the strongest lockdown with the lowest contagion. I believe the reports that less people have died in Sicily in recent months than in any normal period of time. No traffic meant no car accidents, and shutdown in all likelihood stopped the spread of more usual diseases. In the Italian and European North they argue about factories opening and people being forced to go back to work; here the war is on the beaches: whether there have been too many people enjoying themselves, whether this is responsible. After all, our beaches are our factories, and across society you can hear the sound of people holding their breath and regretting that they ever criticized “over touristification”.

The economic crisis that is unfolding now is so wide-reaching that really it feels stupid to look at a stock market graph or the oil price in order to measure it. These now indicate facts to which only the most isolated could be blind (although of course isolation is fast becoming normalized). There is little point in discussing oil prices when all my comrades are engaged in distributing food parcels. There have been some small victories: a friend in prison managed to video-call his cousin; the farmworkers trapped in their shanty houses had water tanks installed by the local council; the self-employed workers (which includes many street vendors with their mobile tables of kitch plastic goods from the Chinese wholesalers) all received a monthly bonus of 600 euros.

Perhaps it’s normal to begin a crisis as a catastrophist and gently evolve into a more moderate despondency. For me, this means I have less expectations of ‘the great collapse’ and more anxiety about the consequences of capital’s effects of “creative destruction” – or what Naomi Klein has equally eloquently described as the ‘shock doctrine’. But whereas Klein sees (correctly from her standpoint in the belly of the imperial beast) the hand of the big corporations, here in the European South the market forces are more disaggregated, even if no less potent. A friend tells me that her family’s wholesale business of plastic cups and white goods to bars and hotels has been swiftly transformed into a provider of plastic screens and sanitizing devices; one of the social-minded local restaurants is paying the bills through providing meals to the homeless; sub-contracted adult educational programs are advertising their new online courses; airbnb properties are going back on to market as normal rooms for rent.

I think that the smartphone really represents the effects of the 2008 crash, this luxury product that now no-one can do without, the object that best represents our all-connected, all-contagious world ever since. I wonder what the post-2020 product will be, what capital has in stall for us now.

Months ago, I recall walking round town, searching for some kind of sign of something to write about; in a writer’s block, I felt despondent about the lack of decent symbols in our world, something worthy of Jesi or Jung. It was Halloween I think, and I was also searching for a hasty costume for a party, a pair of light-up devil’s horns on an Alice-band (which I never found, and turned up costumeless). Instead, rising up before my eyes, was a bunch of these strange balloons that have become popular over the past couple of years: a transparent plastic ball bigger than your head, propped up on a metre-long stick that propels LED lights through some kind of fibreglass rod, projecting spots of coloured light into the glossy globe from within. A whole futuristic sphere, illuminated by its fantastic lights, bought from the Chinese wholesalers, sold on the streets by Bangladesh fathers, perhaps helping a few people eek out a little more of a living. It’d struck me since how much these awkwardly large toys appeared to have multipled at the stalls even without anyone really seeming to buy them. Pop!

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ciathyzareposts · 5 years

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Game 344: Bandor II (1992)

That’s a lazy title graphic.

Bandor II

United States

Magic Lemon (developer and publisher)

Released as shareware in 1992 for DOS

Date Started: 26 October 2019

Date Finished: 28 October 2019

Total Hours: 14

Difficulty: Moderate-Hard (3.5/5)

Final Rating: (to come later)

Ranking at time of posting: (to come later)

I was willing to give some credit to Bandor: The Search for the Storm Giant King (1992) for at least having the originality to try to clone the Gold Box instead of Ultima, Dungeon Master, Wizardry, or any other title that we’ve seen dozens of times. All that good will is gone with Bandor II, which differs so little from Bandor that it feels more like a remake than a sequel–albeit a remake in which very little is actually remade except trivial graphics and interface changes.

And let’s not over-emphasize those graphics upgrades.

In the original Bandor, you controlled a party of four adventurers set loose in the titular city to take quests from the council and its chief wizard, Osi. Both games draw heavily from Pool of Radiance in the nature of the plot and quests; for instance, a mysterious warlord organizing monsters in the slums, and someone poisoning a nearby river. In the first game, the city’s woes were revealed to be the machinations of the Storm Giant King, whose defeat ended the game well before I’d completed all the side quests. Here, the game begins with new ills facing the city, including word that the Storm Giant King has returned. Bandor II is subtitled “The Wrath of the Storm Giant King” on some external sites, but the subtitle is never given on a game screen or within the game files.

Bandor is having more problems.

I tried to import my characters from the first game but couldn’t figure it out, so I created brand new ones. Classes are warrior, thief, mage, friar, rogue (warrior/thief), and jack-of-all-trades (warrior/thief/mage). Races are human, dwarf, elf, half-elf, and half-dwarf, with only the mongrels able to be jacks-of-all-trades. Attributes are strength, magic, and luck, given as percentages from 0 to 100. Everyone begins with axes and leather armor. Spellcasters have spellbooks that (annoyingly) must be swapped into the weapon slot when you actually want to cast a spell.

I was uninspired during character creation and chose an uninspiring name.

The game re-uses the three 40 x 40 maps from the first title: the city of Bandor, the forest, and the underworld (slums) to the city’s east. The underworld has a teleporter to a fourth map, titled “Landthi’s Lair,” which makes no sense until you reach the final encounter. The city map is entirely wasted. The huge space has only a few shops and no special encounters.

This was a huge waste of time.

A large city council building in the center doles out quests. There are only 5 in the game:

Retrieve a bottle of Elixir of B’Tet from the Fortune Teller in the slums; bring it back to the wizard Osi. The Fortune Teller has you rescue her brother, the guildmaster, from a group of bandits before she hands over the elixir.

The Fortune Teller has a sub-quest.

Investigate unexplained deaths in the city slums near the old Temple of B’Nah. This turns out to be former acolytes of B’Nah attempting to resurrect him. One combat clears this quest.

Getting rewarded back at the city council chambers.

Find out who’s poisoning the River Quoth. It turns out to be a dragon.

Investigate the return of the Storm Giant King and find out who is behind his return.

The council issues the main quest of the game.

Only the last quest is necessary to win the game, and depending on your exploration pattern, it’s entirely possible that you’ll stumble on that quest first.

Bandor featured three major problems, none of which is fixed in Bandor II:

1. No inventory improvements. From your starting axes and leather armor, you can use your gold to buy slightly better items like long swords and plate armor. Once you have those, there’s nothing else. No upgrades are found during adventuring, or as quest rewards. This means there’s no purpose to the economy except healing and resurrections.

There’s hardly anything worth buying here.

2. A horrible mouse-only interface. I hated the mouse-driven interface of both games. Actions require too many clicks; there are no alternatives to clicking; and clicking even slightly away from the center of your target produces a question mark, a pause, and a noxious noise that made me want to punch a kitten. The worst part is that this game was supposed to feature a keyboard interface, and it technically does. But it’s bugged and broken, failing to read your input about half the item. Worse, you have to choose one or the other during configuration. Good games have redundant commands active at the same time.

Graphics haven’t improved. I don’t know what this was supposed to be.

3. Too many combats with too few tactics. Bandor tries to emulate the Gold Box combat system but only offers a handful of spells (admittedly, its “Fireball” analog is about as much fun as “Fireball” without being quite so over-powered) and eliminates useful features like backstabbing, delaying, and guarding. Worse, it often puts the party in extremely narrow corridors where only one character can fight and spellcasters can’t cast over their heads because they must have an uninterrupted line-of-sight to the enemy. Random combats are programmed to come along something like every 20 moves, and I found it less annoying to save the game, quit, and reload (which restarts the counter) than to fight all of them.

Fighting bandits in confined conditions.

To these inherited problems, Bandor II maddeningly introduces another:

4. No ability to level up until late in the game. If you visit the guild early in the game, you can’t get in. A message on the door indicates that the guildmaster has gone into the slums to investigate the problems there. You have to rescue him from bandits before he’ll return to the guild and train you. But the bandit encounter is so deep in the slums, you could easily do this quest last, or not at all.

This doesn’t happen until it’s so late you hardly need it.

The only thing to unarguably improve is the automap, which no longer forgets your progress and clearly annotates physical features like doors and uncrossable foliage.

A growing automap of the final area looks a bit like Ultima Underworld’s.

Of the maps, the outdoor forest is the most annoying. It is essentially linear, with trees, bushes, and water blocking any attempt to create your own exploration pattern. In short order, you find a magic staff, talk to a druid who is only able to contact you through the staff, and then fight a dragon to destroy the threat to the city’s water supply. Random battles against ogres and giant rats are more dangerous than the “boss” battle in the area.

This time, it’s a three-headed dragon instead of a sorcerer named Yarash, but the idea is the same.

The slums serve up more giant rats and ogres, along with bandits, fire beasts, and “black servants.” (Nothing like a message saying, “You hit the black servant” to test my liberal sensibilities.) Buildings within this area hold the encounters necessary to solve all quests except the Storm Giant himself.

Threatened by Benson.

The undead Storm Giant King is found through a portal. He attacks after a bit of exposition with two black servants, and again the combat is easier than some of the random ones found in the same area.

The Storm Giant King, just like Tyranthraxus, doesn’t know when to stay dead.

After he’s defeated, you can enter an inner sanctum and find the wizard Landthi, brother of Osi. He takes the credit for raising the Storm Giant King and then attacks with no minions, making the final battle one of the easiest.

The villain delivers his exposition.

The final battle against Landthi in a corner.

Once you defeat Landthi, Osi apparates in and says that Landthi still lives . . . somewhere. He thanks you for your service and ends the game.

Maybe we’d like to be heroes of some other city next time.

I gave the original Bandor 26 points on the GIMLET. Since its sequel uses a near-identical interface, mechanics, and plot, I’m inclined to give it the same thing–minus 2 points for “character creation and development” since you can’t develop for most of the game. I guess I’d also subtract a point for “encounters,” since this game had the same unmemorable foes as the first but without the handful of non-combat encounters that I noted in my review.

If I can say one good thing about Bandor II, it’s that magic and physical combat are well-balanced. You can’t win with just a melee party, but spells aren’t quite the deus ex machina that they are in the Gold Box series. There are only a few of them, and while none of them ever stop being useful (e.g., “Sleep” doesn’t stop working against higher-level foes), they also have logistical concerns that prevent the mage from wiping the floor with every enemy party. For instance, enemies have a chance of dodging spells, you have to be in a line-of-sight to cast them (no other party members blocking), and the spellcaster cannot be in melee range of an enemy.

Blasting the Storm Giant King with a “Fireball.”

Still, unless Bandor III (1993) offers a significantly different experience, I won’t be sad if it never surfaces. We’ll see author Don Lemons’ other work with Shadowkeep I: The Search (1993) and The Infernal Tome (1994).

We’ll check in with Camelot next, after which I’ll either take another stab at The Magic Candle III or move on to Challenge of the Five Realms.

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/game-344-bandor-ii-1992/

#retro games #dos games #retro #crpg #adventure #amiga #oldcomputers #8bit #16bit #blog #repost

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iamfaithfulfaith · 6 years

Text

4 proofs that God Exists

Well, one said He doesn't believe in the existence of a God, while another strongly believes that God does exist. Matthew 11:27 KJV "All things are delivered unto me of my Father: and no man knoweth the Son, but the Father; neither knoweth any man the Father, save the Son, and he to whomsoever the Son will reveal him." You can't see God but he does exist. No man cometh unto the Son except the Father draw him. - John 6:44 Christ is not a force. He is a *person. Just as you cannot know someone by using a microscope or certain instruments to disect that person, so you cannot know God by assumption or by using the microscope of science and philosophy (trying to dissect, to know if...) Except the Father reveals Him to you. "God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth." - John 4:24 I will give you 4 Proofs that God does Exist, and not just exist alone, He Lives, and not just lives, He Reigns, and not just reigns, He Ruleth in the affairs of men. 4 PROOFS THAT GOD DOES EXIST 1. The Creation: When I talk of the universe, I don't just mean the earth alone as an entity but the earth and all that is in it- i.e. the land, seas, trees, animals (the beasts of the field, birds of the air, the creeping things, flying, crawling, walking, etc.), vegetation, and man. I won't talk much of science, I'll just go straight to the bible because the book of Genesis 1:1-26 clearly and completely displaces every theory / assumption of science as regards the argument or thoughts whether there is no God or whether the universe is as a result of one 'big bang mistake' out there in the space or a coincidence. There is no such thing as stability and constancy without the existence of a God. Look at the moon and the stars, the sun, the planets and all the heavenly bodies, see their stability and constancy, hanging on nothing but are yet sustained. Look at night and day, there hasn't been a day without a night - nothing must fail. What about heat and cold, rain and sunshine. These are not coincident. This is God. Talking of how the universe came about, God didn't just create the universe in one day like a magician - it didn't just appear, but he set out specific day to create specific thing or things according to Genesis 1:1-26. This displays a God that is thoughtful and strategic. Secondly, He didn't just set out a specific day to create specific thing or things, he created first thing first - This is God on point! If it were to be as science said it, then it wouldn't have followed this order. Thirdly, God's creation is complete. This displays a God of perfection. He missed out nothing in his creation neither did he created what he supposed not to. "And God saw everything that he had made, and, behold, it was very good. And the evening and the morning were the sixth day" Genesis 1:31 The earth and all that is therein is created by God and He is the God of science. This (the creation) is not an Artificial Intelligence of science neither is it a coincident; this is God in Action. He rested. After the creation, God rested. "All things were made by him; and without him was not anything made that was made." John 1:3 "For by him were all things created, that are in heaven, and that are in earth, visible and invisible, whether they be thrones, or dominions, or principalities, or powers: all things were created by him, and for him: And he is before all things, and by him all things consist" Colossians 1:16 "Lift up your eyes on high, and behold who hath created these things, that bringeth out their host by number: he calleth them all by names by the greatness of his might for that he is strong in power; not one faileth." - Isaiah 40:26 "And to make all men see what is the fellowship of the mystery, which from the beginning of the world hath been hid in God, who created all things by Jesus Christ:" Ephesians 3:9 "Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honour and power: for thou hast created all things, and for thy pleasure they are and were created." Revelation 4:11 2. The Tower of Babel: Have you ever thought about it? Who brought about the different languages we speak today? Sometimes I use to wonder how the different languages we speak came about. And then I wonder maybe people just coil out whatever their tongue could utter and give it a meaning, and so they learned it and it became their language. But is it so? No. God distributed it (languages). "AND THE WHOLE EARTH WAS OF ONE LANGUAGE, AND OF ONE SPEECH. And it came to pass, as they journeyed from the east, that they found a plain in the land of Shinar; and they dwelt there. And they said one to another, Go to (come), let us make brick, and burn them throughly. And they had brick for stone, and slime had they for morter. {*And they said, Go to (come), let us build us a city and a tower, whose top may reach unto heaven; and let us make us a name, lest we be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth.*} And the Lord came down to see the city and the tower, which the children of men builded. And the Lord said, Behold, the people is one, and they have all one language; and this they begin to do: and now nothing will be restrained from them, which they have imagined to do. Go to (come), let us go down, and there confound their language, that they may not understand one another's speech. So the Lord scattered them abroad from thence upon the face of all the earth: and they left off to build the city. Therefore is the name of it called Babel; because the Lord did there confound the language of all the earth: and from thence did the Lord scatter them abroad upon the face of all the earth." - Genesis 11:1-9 3. He Lived in this World: Many do not believe that Jesus Christ came in the flesh and lived in this world but it is clearly stated in the bible in John 1: 14 "And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us" Christ actually lived in this world in the days of the apostles. He came into the world by divine arrangement according to the will of God. He came into the world as man yet God. He was 100% God and 100% man, that is, He can feel pain, He can be tired, hungry (See John 4:1-8), sad, etc. you could see him, feel him, touch him, etc. (See Mark 3:9; 5:24, 31; Luke 8:42, 45). Some of the people of those days saw him and believed that He is the Son of God, some others saw him as well but believed not. But He is. The reason He came into the world was for a prime purpose, to save and restore fallen men back to God by coming to die for all men that whosoever believe in him will not perish but have everlasting life. He came as a substitute and a propitiator for our sins to replace sin with righteousness and the judgment of death with life for all who believe. He fulfilled the purpose he came into the world to do - He died for our sins and was buried, and now he's risen and is alive for evermore. Amen. 4. Today, We Still Talk About Him: His story never dies. People that have ever claimed themselves to be somewhat while they are not, with time, their story just fade and disappear into thin air. That's not the case with God because He is the true and eternal God. Even the sect of the Pharisees and Sadducees in the days of the apostles tried so hard to quench the truth of Christ but could not prevail. This is because of the conviction the disciples had and which cannot be quenched, no matter their threatening, the truth cannot be covered but must surely unveil itself by the power of God. The more this sect tried to cover and shut up this truth, the more it prevailed. "And when they had brought them, they set them before the council: and the high priest asked them, Saying, Did not we straitly command you that ye should not teach in this name? and, behold, ye have filled Jerusalem with your doctrine, and intend to bring this man's blood upon us. Then Peter and the other apostles answered and said, We ought to obey God rather than men. Then stood there up one in the council, a Pharisee, named Gamaliel, a doctor of the law, had in reputation among all the people, and commanded to put the apostles forth a little space; And said unto them, Ye men of Israel, take heed to yourselves what ye intend to do as touching these men. For before these days rose up Theudas, boasting himself to be somebody; to whom a number of men, about four hundred, joined themselves: who was slain; and all, as many as obeyed him, were scattered, and brought to nought. After this man rose up Judas of Galilee in the days of the taxing, and drew away much people after him: he also perished; and all, even as many as obeyed him, were dispersed. And now I say unto you, Refrain from these men, and let them alone: for if this counsel or this work be of men, it will come to nought: But if it be of God, ye cannot overthrow it; lest haply ye be found even to fight against God." - Acts 5:27-29, 34-39 This is a confirmation that Jesus lives and the truth can't be subdued because those that believe in him are not alone but He is right in the midst of them, working with them. "And he said unto them, Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature. And they went forth, and preached everywhere, THE LORD WORKING WITH THEM, AND CONFIRMING THE WORD WITH SIGNS FOLLOWING. Amen." - Mark 16:15, 20 God does exist and He is the Lord of All Isaiah 45:22 "Look unto me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth: for I am God, and there is none else." Foot notes: *A person is not just the person you see. A person is made up of spirit and soul. The person you see (the outward, the body), is what houses the two - Spirit and soul * But that's what exactly God want - to fill the earth. So you can see in this verse that this people are now acting in a complete reverse and opposite direction as regard the will of God. After God created man, He pronounced the five-fold blessing upon man: Be fruitful, and Multiply, and Replenish the earth, and Subdue it, and Have Dominion over the fowls of the air, the fishes in the sea and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the face of the earth... (See Genesis 1:26-28). God want man to Replenish the earth, that is to fill it (according to English dictionary, the second meaning of replenish). But No, they want to remain in one place and so they want to build them a tower that the top of it will get to heaven and can accommodate them in that place (spot). God saw their determination to carry out their project and God also saw their unity in the work because they speak one language. But because it's not the will of God for them to remain their, God confounded their language and they could not understand each other any more, they now speak different languages. So when one say to the other in his own language, 'get me one brick there.' The other will respond in his own language, 'you say what?' And so the work wearied them and they left off the building project. Now they can replenish the earth Read the full article

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krystynasierbien · 7 years

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There’s a Glenn Greenwald in all our Heads — He Mustn’t Be Destroyed.

So you found my message in a bottle on Copacabana beach, or in the sea; which evidently you got in to ‘fetch’; Congratulations,

Hiya,

It is right now twilight in my leafy sanctuary, and the amphibian purr of the rainforest — that ethereal constant, by now so familiar and so dear I know that to it, I have surrendered an enclave of my being — has prompted first, inclination to cleanse these half century worn muscles with my nightly yoga skit on the porch as the dogs run around outside like mad cats beneath the encroaching romance of the moonlight, then the compulsion to write this letter, by hand and by candlelight to you, a complete stranger, with free time only a lack of internet access could realistically inspire.

You see it poured with rain earlier; there was yet another power-cut, and the lines have been down for hours now. Which is too bad. My sort-of-boss wanted to get in touch this evening to discuss whatever legal issues hover over my latest, and for that reason, presumably, LOL, still yet to be published article.

The delay’s all been thanks to The Deatheaters at GCHQ: Who once again have gotten in touch with their specious appeals to “wahhh, ah, don’t publish, national security!” when in this instance all they seem to want to do, in fact all they ever seem to want to do is cover their own sorry incompetent asses. And don’t get me started on Professor Sir David Omand De Pfeffel III or whatever his name isn’t — that guy. That sneering, contemptuous, duckbilled platypus of a man who, if not shuffling along the corridors of the War Studies department at Kings College London, mumbling to himself and his colleagues about “The Terrorists” can be found on UK television waving classified documents redacted to the point of incoherency in Channel 4 News’ John Snow’s face; lambasting him for “not covering the story accurately” and causing “needless fear and confusion.” Omand’s open disdain for the public is obscene and astounding. The UK is astounding. But would Omand debate me Live, and face to face, about the broader implications of mass surveillance at its current technological velocity, hmmm? No, of course he wouldn’t. Because obviously he knows that GG (emphasis MINE) would wipe the floor with him.

Stepping back, you know it’s actually quite funny, ironic even. I think? I’ve mentioned this in interviews before of course although it certainly bears repeating here too. My sort-of boss, this guy, this Ebay guy, Pierre Omidyar. Mmmm-hmmm, that’s right, get this: Well, Pierre can’t get in touch with me a lot of the time because of the outages, yet he’s a multi-billionaire computer and technology whizz with coalescing political, philanthropic and entrepreneurial goals (that’s PPE to you, British establishment! LOL.) The point is none of that stuff makes a difference here. Not money nor status nor expertise, and tidbits such as these keep me grounded. You know, those little reminders that even one of the most influential and tech-savvy people in the world, not to mention a bestselling author and journalist whom reports on cutting edge computer technologies as weaponised by the burgeoning global security state, aka yours truly, me, Glenn Greenwald, that’s right bitches, are subject to the whim of a tropical downpour and temperamental public infrastructure, just like everybody else. Which means often Pierre and I are unable to email or even call one other for this reason, let alone encrypt our communications. Hell — I can barely encrypt!

But no matter because here in the rainforest. The rainforest in which I live. The rainforest from which I conduct most of my adversarial business in between regular trips back and forth to the US to attend MSM interviews & a variety of public and private speaking engagements, nature’s obstacles usually prevail. And I respect that.

I love not man the less; but nature more. I love not man the less, but nature more. This quote, by Lord Byron of all people rolled over in my head as I walked the dogs today, and it seems to make more sense with the so-called passage of so-called time. Nevertheless civilisation, free speech, civility, order — not too much though — also justice, always justice, justice applied to the largest and yes at times even the most mundane aspects of public life, has really always been my passion. And yet still, still, I feel most at home in the lushness, solitude and natural lawlessness of the jungle; where civilisation’s most concrete hallmarks and affectations are relatively scarce. I am conscious of this duality and honestly I’m still not sure what to make of it. What I do know is that the eleven adorable rescue pups David and I adopted from the local santuário animal a couple of years back really have transformed our lives for the better. We feel a deep-seated affection for our unruly four-legged companions; who have become a necessary counterforce to the many stresses our working hours burden us with. Each has a unique personality and complex emotional needs. This is how I personally have experienced every dog I’ve crossed paths with in all my forty nine years. And you know what? To me that’s life affirming. You see the dogs help me help myself let go of all that rage. The kind of debilitating rage only interaction with you the people could ever insight (LOL).

The birds living here with us in this sprawling primeval forestry we call home love it when it rains, but they sing louder when it pours, and whenever they do, and whenever it does, echoes of real-life tweets streak through the sodden air and then into my grateful ears whenever the wind’s blowing in my favour. The humidity here reminds me of my home state Florida, a place I left an inordinately long time ago now. The strangest of personal circumstances tend to develop in the lives of Floridians who actually leave Florida by the way. The meme is true. I am, by no memes, an exception to this ‘rule’ and yes I’ve certainly led a variegated life so far. Like many if not most people have. It’s not that I’m secretive about my past, nor about how I got here either, per se. It’s just that it’s none of your damn business is it really. And I think perhaps you should respect that. Enough about Cocky Boys already, pedants. It’s been done. Twice already. Whatever.

I was a member elect of the *drumroll* Lauderdale Lakes City Council recreation advisory board by the time I was eight. So admittedly I’ve been aware of this ‘game’ for a long time now, starting my own journey on the other side of the public/private tracks before relinquishing my post a year later to pursue other projects, namely cub scouts, at age nine (LOL).

I ran for council even, unsuccessfully it would eventually transpire although boy did I learn a whole lot about US electoral politics during that election campaign, when I was seventeen. Growing up, my grandfather was a Lauderdale Lakes City councillor for many years — as far back as I can remember in fact — and it was from him I learnt that the principles and constitutional rights of all must be upheld ‘doggedly’ (LOL) no matter how odious that token, idea, or indeed even that person might be.

I’m actually a bigger picture kinda guy really, and I’m funny and nice as anything in real life. But I also know the intricacies of the system because I’ve been there, okay, an insider of various descriptions, with first hand experience of these institutions in operational flux as their representatives often superficially interact with, lie to and clash with one another. You have no idea how much of a mess all this is of course. But I do. I know the system’s geared towards the moneyed, the unashamed pursuit of the ego; that in a comparable sense the law exists to infantilise, imprison and fine the unruly masses while invariably loop-de-looping for those wealthier entities, who admittedly I jam with from time to time, even though it’s obvious, self-evident maybe, that even ‘The Good Billionaires’ see buying political power as but one manifestation of the natural order of things. Which troubles me of course. Only how much really? And what if they’re right? I’ve heard about the sinister echoes along D.C. corridors: I’ve seen the grubby fingermarks lining the walls and yes I’ve spoken to the beasts that frequent the hallways and the conference rooms. (Obama voice) I get it, really.

There really are glimmers of hope though and yet rarely do we ever focus on them. As I write these words a small but dedicated army of human rights activists and free speech lawyers are in perpetual battle with the encroaching security state to carve out and maintain as safe a legal space as possible for whistleblowers and political dissidents alike. These are people who use their skills for good. Who refuse to serve ‘corporate interests’ and choose instead to secure the rights of whistleblowers everywhere by bolstering as best they can the safety net that whistleblowers are legally guaranteed.

I upheld the constitutional rights of a corporation myself before. A tobacco company no less. Whatever god is knows that I have. But I soon realised I was emptier for it. That I was merely existing. I started to blog soon-after before upping sticks, leaving my life in New York along with a relationship that had sadly long since run its course behind, and moved to Rio in ’05, where I was blessed enough to meet my soulmate, David Miranda, and then find this wonderful paradise for us to live in before my ‘second-wind’ career of sorts really started to take off. And now the rest, as they say (LOL), is history.

I started blogging as online media began to challenge and disrepute the establishment press and, I think, redefine the global media order entirely. People liked my work (LOL); I managed to land the Salon gig; The Guardian one after that. There, I was able to draw attention to NSA mass surveillance as the story crescendoed. As the NSA insiders continued to come forward and as that constitutional gut punch, The Patriot Act, was finally being acknowledged for the abomination it so demonstrably was and continues to be within broader political discourse. However nothing could have prepared me for the Snowden thing and everything he has entailed since. It’s been the most insane thing. An admission here, just a small one because, well, I’ve been candid thus far and it only feels right that I continue in this vein. So here goes:

It actually wasn’t a Rubik’s cube Snowden was carrying with him in the hotel lobby the day we met. As the Oscar Winning film Citizen Four suggests. Nuh uh. Ed had a Rubik’s cube, which he’d planned to use for the purposes that we described to you in the film, only turns out that he lost it the day we arranged to meet. We filmed all that crap afterwards. He was closing a window in his hotel room that morning when he sneezed, and his natural response was to move his hand over his mouth, like any good boy would. As he did so, the Rubiks cube, which was in his hand at this point, I have no idea why and to this day neither does he — slipped from his grip, and then ricocheted off his cheek, somehow. As if in slow motion; right through the tiny opening in the window. I mean really, what are the odds?! He was in his hotel room on the 51st floor so obviously he couldn’t leave the building for security reasons. When Laura and I heard the news via p2p we were absolutely devastated. How could this even happen?

With only a small window (LOL) of opportunity to amend the plan; the only thing we could think of was thus: We would meet Ed in the lobby just as planned, but instead of holding a Rubik’s cube, he’d be the guy in the furthest right hand corner of the room, facing the wall. Slowly, but purposefully banging his head up against it. Only little did we know, at that exact spot, just three days previously a decorative Chao Gong had been mounted on that particular stretch of wall. So when we arrived, there Snowden was: A young, scrawny looking man (Laura & I had expected him to be of retirement age up to this point) stood there banging his head against it as three startled receptionists from the lobby-desk bustled frantically around him, offering a glass of water, pleading with him to take a seat. Laura, Ewen and I hurried over when we spotted him and when he did the same he followed us to the end of the lobby and then out into the hallway where we exchanged nervous, awkward, but sympathetic glances before stepping into the lift together, going up, exiting, and then walking up to the hotel room in complete silence.

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amaetheon · 7 years

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DESIGN YOUR OWN LEGENDARY POKEMON CONTEST

"The council used to be filled with so many legends from locations some had never even heard of. They came and went, sometimes in a blur, but they were for the most part friendly, and often powerful allies. It seems every century brought half a dozen of them before they would later drop off the face of the earth."

You win no matter what! So, true to my word I'm finally opening the "contest", I wish there was a better word but google couldn't find one. It's a free for all where all I ask is that you design your own legendary Pokemon.

It can be a pre-existing design of yours or a new one drawn specifically for the contest, so long as it is yours. You can submit a drawing or go further and add your own backstory. I greatly encourage you to link your Legendary Pokemon to the ones I've already drawn (and have yet to draw) and even add your own little relationships and personalities to spice them up a bit.

Rules are below the read more. REBLOGS ARE HEAVILY APPRECIATED!

RULES

- The design must be designed by you. If you want to submit a friend's design you must get their permission first. - There is no limit to how many times you submit, just remember to mention me or link it back so I see them all. - Your Pokemon can not have a stat arrangement over 720. If they are stronger than the average legend there must be a reason as to why (this is why I strongly suggest a background, make up your own mythology and go crazy so long as it makes sense) and some balance. I would prefer not having five legends as powerful as Mega Rayquaza as it sends the whole story into wack. - They can be drawn in my semi-realistic style or as a regular monster mash up of many different animals. Keep in mind that if/when I draw them I will be using my semi-realistic style and they may lose a few details. - Moves do not have to be specified but it would be cool if you had a signature move! They don't have to be an already existing move, in fact, I would prefer they are unique. The limit of signature moves your Pokemon can have is 2. - Legends can come from discovered regions (for example, your legend comes from Kanto and has interacted with the Legendary Birds or were protector of Unova before they met their doom hundreds of years ago). - They can exist during any timeline but I would prefer they either be lost or extinct by present day. It's extraordinarily rare for a legend to be in the council for longer than a thousand years because of how many conflicts they get into. This means, unluckily for you, they miiiiight be dead by now. But their death/disappearance/absence is all up to you. Maybe they died fighting their counterpart, maybe they disappeared in a portal one day and never came back. It's all up to you. - You can make entire trios. If you put the effort into doing this I'll definitely have to do something special.

WHAT I'D LIKE TO SEE

- LEGENDS THAT HAVE TIES TO THE ONES IN MY STORY ALREADY! Take a look at their personalities and backstories. Maybe they used to be Palkia's long lost friend, or Rayquaza's most bitter enemy. Maybe they were one of the legends that fought to be counterparts with Ho-Oh but lost to Lugia. Some of these headcannons can be found on my Tumblr blog. http://amaetheon.tumblr.com (Which by the way, feel free to submit to! I'll love anything appearing in my inbox.) If you're unsure about a relationship then just ask. - As I said, have them be dead or missing. This adds to the ANGST factor, but also creates a more compelling story. Every century legends die, go missing, or are brought into the council. - Legends from undiscovered regions. - PERSONALITY, BACKSTORY, MOVES, TYPING ETC - A nice mix of mythical and legendary Pokemon. Myticals are Pokemon like Mew, Celebi, and Jirachi; the ones I haven't drawn yet. Don't let that discourage you! Draw them if you want, I'd love to see them. - Other species? Ultra Beasts? COUNT ME IN.

I will likely be drawing all entires when the time comes to it. All entries are welcome and will get a little something for the effort put into them. (This includes fanart, gifts, maybe even a request here or there.) NO PRIOR ART EXPERIENCE IS NECESSARY. YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE GOOD, JUST CREATIVE AND READY TO SHARE!

DEADLINE - JULY 17

#pokemon #contest #legendary pokemon #drawing #art #legendary #design #design your own #win

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