#is lit in theory but execution will be suffering

[compaculaaa]

yall just really like memes huh

#is ok im getting my family propaganda across #taking requests for elita memes #also wanna talk about and expand it more since its very vague at the moment #the synopsis is sentinal optimus and elita are siblings #and they manage to save elita but shes still black arachnia so the whole fam has to help get her back to a bot #but eventually they learn to have to accept her for who she is #is lit in theory but execution will be suffering #also UM and AT are their pepes but you didnt see anything

[troybeecham]

Today, the Church remembers St. Lawrence, deacon and martyr.

Ora pro nobis.

Saint Lawrence or Laurence (Latin: Laurentius, lit. "laurelled"; 31 December AD 225 – 10 August 258 AD) was one of the seven deacons of the city of Rome, Italy, under Pope Sixtus II who were martyred in the persecution of the Christians that the Roman Emperor Valerian ordered in 258 AD.

St. Lawrence is thought to have been born on 31 December AD 225 in Valencia, or less probably, in Huesca, the town from which his parents came in the later region of Aragon that was then part of the Roman province of Hispania Tarraconensis. The martyrs St. Orentius (Modern Spanish: San Orencio) and St Patientia (Modern Spanish: Santa Paciencia) are traditionally held to have been his parents.

He encountered the future Pope Sixtus II, who was of Greek origin and one of the most famous and highly esteemed teachers, in Caesaraugusta (today Zaragoza). Eventually, both left Spain for Rome. When Sixtus became the Pope in 257, he ordained St Lawrence as a deacon, and though Lawrence was still young appointed him first among the seven deacons who served in the patriarchal church. He is therefore called "archdeacon of Rome", a position of great trust that included the care of the treasury and riches of the Church and the distribution of alms to the indigent.

St Cyprian, Bishop of Carthage, notes that Roman authorities had established a norm according to which all Christians who had been denounced must be executed and their goods confiscated by the Imperial treasury. At the beginning of August 258 AD, the Emperor Valerian issued an edict that all bishops, priests, and deacons should immediately be put to death. Pope Sixtus II was captured on 6 August 258, at the cemetery of St Callixtus while celebrating the liturgy and executed forthwith.

After the death of Sixtus, the prefect of Rome demanded that St Lawrence turn over the riches of the Church. St Ambrose is the earliest source for the narrative that St Lawrence asked for three days to gather the wealth. He worked swiftly to distribute as much Church property to the indigent as possible, so as to prevent its being seized by the prefect. On the third day, at the head of a small delegation, he presented himself to the prefect, and when ordered to deliver the treasures of the Church he presented the indigent, the crippled, the blind, and the suffering, and declared that these were the true treasures of the Church. One account records him declaring to the prefect, "The Church is truly rich, far richer than your emperor." This act of defiance led directly to his martyrdom and can be compared to the parallel Roman tale of the jewels of Cornelia.

On 10 August, St. Lawrence, the last of the seven deacons, and therefore, the ranking Church official, suffered a martyr's death. The Prefect was so angry that he had a great gridiron prepared with hot coals beneath it, and had Lawrence placed on it, hence St Lawrence's association with the gridiron. After the martyr had suffered pain for a long time, the legend concludes, he cheerfully declared: "I'm well done on this side. Turn me over!"

Some historians, such as Rev. Patrick J. Healy, opine that the tradition of how St Lawrence was martyred is "not worthy of credence", as the slow lingering death cannot be reconciled "with the express command contained in the edict regarding bishops, priests, and deacons (animadvertantur) which ordinarily meant decapitation." A theory of how the tradition arose is proposed by Pio Franchi de' Cavalieri, who postulates that it was the result of a mistaken transcription, the accidental omission of the letter "p" – "by which the customary and solemn formula for announcing the death of a martyr – passus est ["he suffered," that is, was martyred] – was made to read assus est [he was roasted]." The Liber Pontificalis, which is held to draw from sources independent of the existing traditions and Acta regarding Lawrence, uses passus est concerning him, the same term it uses for Pope Sixtus II, who was martyred by decapitation during the same persecution. However, this modern scholarship is disputed by another scholar, Janice Bennett, whose study of other primary sources indicates that the traditional narratives are substantially correct. No matter the means of his death, he died for defying the Imperial state by refusing to worship any other god but the God of Israel as revealed by Jesus, whose disciple Lawrence was both in word and deed.

Almighty God, you called your deacon Laurence to serve you with deeds of love, and gave him the crown of martyrdom: Grant that we, following his example, may fulfill your commandments by defending and supporting the poor, and by loving you with all our hearts; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.

Amen.

#jesus #christianity #saints #god #salvation #peace #martyrs #faith #early church #father troy beecham

[mazuwii]

Chapter 9 || Stolkhom

Reiner x reader

Previous chapter

Warnings: age regression and violence

Authors note: Do forgive me for the late update, I’ve been hit with a painful period cramps. Now it’s calmed down. 

Though only in the midst of August, it was starting to get colder by the day. Y/n finally saved enough for the doctors. She predicted the price of the surgery, and so doubled that amount. The money she made working in the cafe piled up with the savings was more than enough.

Y/n had buried Reiner in sweaters, thick clothing, a coat, and a pastel blue hat with a cute pompom on top. Finally, she wrapped a scarf around his neck, allowing only his eyes to prevail. "Right that's it," she smiled to herself, applauding herself for a good job, "Don't want you catching a cold on me."

His eyes disappeared in his grin, shaking his head in agreement. She took his clothed hand with her bare ones, feeling the fuzzy material of his mittens intertwine around her hand.

Y/n led him down the tan path to the bus stop, where she'd take directions towards the address. Thankfully not too far away. She'd prefer it if she had just bought a car. She knew Reiner had a huge chance of falling asleep midway.

And her theories were confirmed to be true once they had gotten on the bus, he leaned against her shoulder and cuddled her arm, his body limp yet at peace.

Still, there were many stops before they'd arrive. He silently repositioned himself on her, averting her attention onto him again. Y/n kissed his forehead and rested her head against his, allowing herself to dream.

≈≈≈

There really was no point in going to work for Zeke. The war was over, no one had won, no one had lost. Apart from the countless lives declined in their nation due to the revenge of those once innocent people they call "devils".

The island of people they so despised had hit back, harder than anyone predicted. Although close to annihilating the entire nation of Marley, they stopped, as if warning them to stay clear of their land.

Marley had given up, they left the people alone. However, they were more cautious this time. They stocked up on soldiers and military weapons lined up, just in case. But Zeke knew they'd start another war if their delusional paranoia rose up on the subject again.

The people would purposely have their attention averted onto something horrible yet stupid as the Marleyan government plans things no one would realistically stand for.

Nevertheless, being a war chief of Marley meant he wasn't allowed to speak against them. Otherwise who knows what would happen. The punishments varied. It could get his family tortured, he could be executed or maybe he'd suffer the same fate as Reiner. A life full of humiliation was worse than having his life stripped away in one blow.

Sir Magath, his superior, had always been suspicious of Reiner's whereabouts. He never believed the conspiracies that he died. The military would be invited to his grave, and if not, then at least one funeral home would have been hired for it. But every single one that the military checked had denied their accusations, stating that even if the wife of such a pitiful failure would come into their business, they'd throw her out.

He had a lit cigarette between his lips as he observed the humps of roads and buildings from the view next to Zeke Jaeger. "You know," he began. "I never believed that Braun's wife wouldn't invite you to his funeral."

The blond man shrugged blandly, "I suppose her and her child's life mattered more in that moment."

"Maybe..." Magath responded dryly. His eyebrows creased in thought once again. Zeke could see him do so in the corner of his eye. He wanted to kill the man, to push him off and watch as his body tumbled and punctured against the sharp rocks beneath them. Even after believing Reiner was dead, the military was ordered to look for any signs of his whereabouts. Dead or alive.

To them, he was a pawn. A war weapon as opposed to a human. Every single one below Magath was. Even Zeke. They all knew too much and if any information got out, they'd have to kill them. Reiner got away and if he were not dead as the rumours say so, he could be revealing things. Committing treason had consequences so dire that no one even entertained the thought of it.

So what makes them think, a man raising a child and providing for his family would even question doing it? What could it do for him, other than rip his life apart into shreds?

These past few weeks had Zeke mentally questioning if they hired someone to finally finish the job off by bashing his head in. A brick the size of his foot plunged into the scalp of his comrade. In broad daylight. The bearded man recalled hearing so much. The weak groans that died down from the fallen man. Some children screamed, some adults were cheering and others were silent but delighted. Either way, they couldn't do much to Reiner's motionless body as a superior chief was around. Zeke.

Surrounded by all those sheep had him looking for one who had aimed the brick so precisely. Yet it proved hopeless as he scanned through the random villagers. No one noticed. Their gazes were glued to the gory crack of blood staining the strands of blonde.

"You know, if you hide anything from the military, you'll be punished as a traitor would."

"Yes sir," Zeke answered without any hesitation. Magath could only dream of cracking him open, to see what Zeke truly was thinking. The war chief was both calculate and intelligent to an astonishing degree. But he hid it well, acting mindless and dumb to an extent. For if he even threatened any higher-ups ego, he'd have been annihilated.

With that, Magath left to go back inside the headquarters, leaving Zeke to concentrate on his clear thoughts. Y/n will be just fine and so will Mihai. That is if the military doesn't go searching for the kid too.

If they find Mihai, who knows what they'll do. Would they take him away? Would they not give him or Pieck a chance to explain themselves, instantly plunging them into punishment and torture. Children were no exception to this, some have been fed to hungry dogs alive for stupid things.

All he knew was that Mihai couldn't stay for longer. Magath was onto him. Zeke calculated the next move, a prediction animated in the front of his mind. His door kicked in, armed officers trashing the house to search for something they already knew existed there.

That's it. There's no time to send Y/n a letter. This is it now.

≈≈≈

Surprisingly, the receptionist kindly welcomed both Reiner and Y/n into the room with the booked doctor. They were on time, thanks to Y/n's timing.

The waiting room had only eight lined up chairs in fours. It wasn't a sketchy place, it just felt out of the ordinary that they were accepting right in.

The man who had answered her knock with a 'come in' was typing away on some new technology. He seemed to be balding and had eyebrows as thick as his hair. "Ah," he smiled at the two, specifically, Reiner. "I've heard all about your husband." He gestured at the two seats by his desk.

Y/n shyly sat down with the wandering man by her side. "Yes... it wasn't so pleasant." She sheepishly said.

After a bit of awkward small talk, he finally popped the question, "So, what seems to be the issue?"

Y/n's hand gently clenched Reiner's, distracting him for only a few seconds and when he realised she wasn't trying to avert his attention, he went back to looking at the health posters on the wall, as if they were more entertaining than whatever the doctor had to say.

"After the incident, he's been having behavioural problems," she started, "I have to bathe him, put him to sleep, feed him- basically... he's a child." She mentally winced. The doctor nodded a few times during her explanation, he jotted down her words on a piece of paper, rather than use whatever technology sitting in front of him.

"I see," he took his glasses off, "and you think this is a matter of brain damage?"

"Maybe?"

"Well, Mrs Braun, it could be a number of things. For example, you told me he worked in the military." She hesitantly nodded, "Age regression is a symptom of PTSD for some, perhaps he may be showing signs of various mental illness."

"There's more?- I mean, for age regression?"

"Indeed. We could have him examined by a psychologist... if you'd like?"

While she'd do anything to help Reiner get back to normal, there's a chance the psychologist could cut away the amount she'd need for the surgery. The medication industry can be too greedy sometimes, especially in times like these.

"Today?" She finally asked.

"Today."

With that, they were taken to the front desk, where the doctor was talking to the receptionist and filling out an online form on the box-like computer. After a while of awkwardly standing by the desk, the two were finally met with the doctor. He adjusted his glasses with a confident smile.

"Right then, shall we?" He motioned towards the other side of the hallway. Y/n cocked a brow. "Where's the psychologist? Isn't a different building?"

"Oh no, I'll be the psychologist."

Again, Y/n felt uneasy about the man. There was something about him that weirded her out and she couldn't pinpoint what it was. All she could conclude was that Zeke knew some odd people. Odd people that potentially reflect his own personality. But the Zeke she knows was weird in a comfy way like there was no pressure to pretend to be someone you're not around him.

"Right then, for this practice, I ask to be alone with Mr Braun, is that fine with you?"

Her hooded eyes switched from the doctor to Reiner, contemplating whether or not she'd trust him to take the feeble man alone for a while. Her husband looked back at her with a pleading expression, like he was desperate for her to decline. 

"Okay," Reiner widened his eyes in shock, his face mirroring that of a kicked puppy as the doctor gently began to guide him away. Had he been a bad boy? Was Y/n giving him away? "Y/n." He whimpered. However, she responded with a reassuring nod and surrendered to the waiting area.

Constantly turning around to steal glimpses of her, he gulped down scary thoughts and allowed himself to enter the opened door of the room, where it appeared like a child's nursery. The doctor sat on a high chair while Reiner was instructed on a fluffy pink mat.

“So, where shall we begin…”

Next chapter

#Reiner x reader #Reiner braun #Reiner braun x reader #Reiner aot #aot warriors #zeke yeager #Zeke x pieck #pieck finger #stolkhom

[jerepars]

My QOTS 5x09 live reactions:

Oscar is in the “previously on”. Oscar x Jeresa team up?

SO MUCH Kote in the “previously on”. Whyyyyyy? We already had to sit through their episodes once, isn’t that enough?

James taking off that ski mask was somehow really hot

Is it bad if I want to skip through this suburbia Kote stuff and just get to the Jeresa team up lol

“Like the devil himself he lives in the shadows” uhhhhh that was a little…YA fiction-esque. Lol who wrote that line and are they serious.

If there were two very attractive people sitting across from me, dressed like yin and yang, promising me protection like that…I think I’d be very confused LOL

Konstantin Federov? Is Kostya like, a Russian hockey player? Did he play in Detroit with the Russian Five? I am howling.

an INSTRUMENT TO DEFEND OUR DEMOCRACY lol lol lol

again Devon leaves the room without being a blatantly obvious Jeresa shipper. Boooooooo.

suburbia suburbia why can’t we do away with ya?

what happened to don’t come out until I tell you to?! Do you understand the consequences of death or not?

oh good job just show the neighbors you guys have a fucking arsenal in your kitchen that’s not gonna be suspicious at all

“I am a soldado, I will never put my guard down” really REALLY we all know that’s not true this is how you guys got banished to Little Rock in the first place

“it was a big raccoon” Raccoons are adorable they look like little bandits leave them alone

Jeresa are sitting ~very close~!!!!

“in the DR” As in, in the Dominican Republic? Do people really say that? Sounds like I’m watching Big Brother and they’re talking about the Diary Room LOL

Wait what Teresa is doing coke right as James leaves the room? What if he forgot something and comes back??? Does he know? Has this just been accepted by him? This is never going to be addressed, is it?

Ooh, theory time. Is the coke...not coke? Is it something else and Teresa has been building up a tolerance to it so she can appear dead?

“I know you want things to go back to normal” BACK to normal? When were things normal? Why does half the episode have to be spent on these two?

“I don’t want to live like this anymore” You…you...WHAT? Why did you join a drug cartel? You BEGGED back in with them. Proved yourself. Worked too hard, isn’t that what you said? What did you think it was going to be like?

Do we, the audience, have to suffer through the garage sale, too?

HOW LONG IS THIS SCENE WHY ARE WE STILL IN SUBURBIA

Yeah snoop through your neighbor’s mail when the whole neighborhood is around THAT’S NOT SUSPICIOUS AT ALL

oh it’s his little girl’s team now we have to suffer through Pote’s redemption for his misogynist sexist comments from earlier in the season

Yo, why are we only meeting Domingo now? I like this guy. He’s fun. Plus he’s got cool piercings.

aaaaand he’s dead.

Oh, okay, not dead. But injured.

YO I LIKE DOMINGO

CHICHO HOW COULD YOU CALL POTE THIS IS NOT HOW I RAISED YOU

omg is KA going to tell Pote to go back to Teresa where he’s happy because she doesn’t want his spirit to die? If so, I think I might want to die.

I don’t need another tender Kote moment JFC MAKE IT STOP

BRICKS!!!! KISS TIME!!!!

“You wouldn’t let me do it, so why should I let you?” Dead. Dead. DEAAAADDDDD. 😭😭😭

I love you. SAME. (I still wish T had said it first)

So no conversation. Just straight to the sex? Okay. I guess we’ll roll with it.

The way he pauses to tuck her hair away from her face and looks at her all starry-eyed when she’s on top of him. Dead. Dead. Dead dead dead.

And then they SMILE. Can you be more dead than dead? I think that’s where I’m at. 👻

Sidenote: I don’t think we’ve ever seen this much of J’s tattoos up close. This is glorious. Lol yeah because there’s sex happening and I’m looking at the details of the tattoos hahaha

The hand on the thigh to end it before the camera pans and then fade to black. That’s great. I will accept it.

She’s touching his arm in the morning after scene. There is SUNLIGHT. This is the best lit Jeresa scene of this show’s existence, lol. Holy shit.

When does she tell him she loves him? This is obviously setting us up for a goodbye.

LOLOLOLOL James is talking about weapons and making sure she’s well equipped and she’s giving him heart eyes instead sooo is she about to say it?

SHE SAID IT!!!!!!!!!

Jeresa making out. Jeresa getting it on. Jeresa kissing after a love confession. In one episode. ❤️ 🥰 🎊 💞 💓 😘 🎇 🔥 Bask in the glory. Savor it. Let’s all enjoy this and rewatch and reblog gifs etc etc etc because it’s all we’re ever going to get. 🎁

“She’s not going in without us.” “I’ll go.” OoOoOoOo this is all part of the plan isn’t it?

But when did you have time to plan this when you spent all night making out and having sex. You must have been spent. Did you multitask in bed? 😂

Scared Puppy James :( :( :(

Wait. WAIT. This is very plot holey. Kostya didn’t know anything about Teresa’s business? He’s apparently the biggest bad-ass there is and he didn’t even vet her? He just let Oksana handle it? WHATTTTTTT

The tequila isn’t poisoned. She put something on the shot glass, probably? That’s why they had Chicho talk about how Oksana was killed at the beginning. Right?

So Kostya has been elusive all season. Fucked everything up. And he dies as soon as he meets her? WHAT. Just like that. This is so deflating.

Uhhhh, listen, I get it, Teresa is obviously gonna make it out of here. But why have Kostya’s guys not shot her in the head yet? This is very unrealistic. They wouldn’t hesitate. She would be on the ground in a second.

WHAT. NO. WHY IS POTE HERE. GO AWAY. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO STEP UP, CHICHO.

I wish Pote had died. A final sacrifice for his family. That would have been his redemption. And I’m not apologizing for anything I just said. Full offense. Not sorry.

“You had enough on your plate.” Are you KIDDING ME? Yo WHO THE FUCK DOES CHICHO THINK HE IS? Making decisions for the boss? That’s not…that wouldn’t happen, helpful or not. Teresa would kill HIM. Know your place. Wow how nice of the writers to screw Chicho up.

“I’m only legit until Devon decides I’m not” So…okay. Jeresa have definitely talked about Devon and made the sniper plan now, right? If she’s saying this?

“Can you shut down operations in New Orleans and meet us when you’re done?” “Of course.” That’s the goodbye, isn’t it? We’re still on track for the sniper plan?

“When everything’s settled I’ll send for you.” Uh. Maybe KA is safer in Little Rock. But you’re gonna leave her out in the wind for an indefinite amount of time? OKAY.

“He may not be as nice” LOL

Omg this is like the most continuous dialogue James has had all season and it’s wasted on DEVON

Personally not a fan of this very predictable James-was-still-under-Devon’s-wing-the-whole-time because I think it’s lazy writing. Very lazy. BUT I bet in James’ mind, he’s for sure been pretending and this whole time whenever he’s been sitting boo-boo faced in the corner moping, he’s been planning out how to tell Teresa and going over the plan of how she’s going to “die” and they’re going to disappear. So he could tell her and they could execute it perfectly when the right time presented itself. Right? And that’s all going to be shoved into like the last few minutes of the finale, isn’t it?

Ah okay so sniper James is going to shoot Teresa through the window to make Devon think he followed orders. They WERE multitasking in bed. 😂😂

I knew it. I fucking knew it. It’s exactly the ending to this episode we all expected.

Finale preview: soooooooo Teresa is barely in it because she’s “dead” and we have to watch Pote carry out her “wishes” for most of it until it’s safe for her to come alive again? COME ON.

#qots spoilers #qots 5x09 #qots #queen of the south #teresa mendoza #james valdez #jeresa #pote galvez #kelly anne van awken #kote #boaz jimenez #devon finch #chicho nolastname #i have opinions they are unpopular

[chicago-geniza]

well i intended to go for a nice evening walk, ended up having a panic attack, ordering a couple of cocktails at the bougie bar, joining a jam session with a bunch of old hippies on the logan green (one of them gave me a handpainted wooden medallion which seems to be carved out of tree bark, strung on a length of yarn???), met a crustpunk train-hopping dude in town for the month (& his dog, in a leather-studded harness) who's lived in 45/50 states & a 44 yr old guy everyone called "the wizard" wearing a tattered, patch-covered robe who shares most of my parents' conspiracy theories & considers himself a latter-day prophet, he bought us sorbet & ice cream, wound up hanging out with them & staying up all night at their indescribably eclectic, cluttered, blood-spattered (!!!) apartment, belonging to 44 yr old guy's art curator father & decorated accordingly, smoking m*th & listening to music & talking (or rather listening to them rant/rave/recount stories from their incredibly wild lives), i gave them advice on applying for unemployment & medicaid & how to appear compliant enough w/ carceral psychiatric intervention so they won't section you without actually submitting to forced medication or institutionalization, especially if they assign you a case worker & do regular "wellness checks." also how to pass off certain aspects of behavioral dysregulation as executive dysfunction, get them to pay for an adhd evaluation, get an adderall IR scrip, sell the 30 mg pills (cite body weight, high doses of other psych meds as reason for higher dose; look sincere; play to systemic biases toward cis white men, unfortunately), & use the cash to buy m*th, if they'd prefer to keep doing that. you can also pass positive psychotic symptoms--agitation etc.--off as severe anxiety, especially if you have a history of trauma, & they will give you benzodiazepines. it is in their best interest to keep you docile, i.e. tranquilized, particularly if your past convictions & involuntary institutionalizations revolve around a pattern of aggressive behavior, & that's On The Record/there's a paper trail. (e.g. one dude got arrested trying to keep cars away from an injured bird on the road, some genre of raptor i think (???) by threatening them with a shopping cart, not hitting them, but like, running at them as if to collide then feinting at the last minute so they'd swerve out of the way. not the safest or most effective maneuver, lotta reckless endangerment, but the motivation was admirable. probably put the fear of god into some drivers, though. he doesn't seem to have, like, impulse control.) it's a lot easier & you have fewer run-ins with the cops if you game the system & appear cooperative. they gave me this coat, which "just showed up in their apartment one day," like i did. 44 yr old guy walked me back to apartment, stole a street sign & tore down a real estate sign en route, lori lightfoot did indeed take down the pride flag in front of her house on july 1st & replace it with an appropriately patriotic american flag, i walked past the idling plainclothes cop car & another marked police vehicle with their Mayoral Guarding Detail inside at like 4.30 am smoking a menthol cigarette (not inhaling), high on m*th, draped in a neon anime jacket, in the company of a visibly insane, unshaven & unshorn middle-aged man in a technicolor patchwork trenchcoat, holding a lit cigarette in one hand & an upside-down traffic cone in the other, which he was using as an ad hoc amplifier for a noise track playing on my phone. he was also carrying the stolen real estate banner &, inexplicably, a stack of mail. i gave him my old backup phone (no SIM card & doesn't hold a charge long, ancient, but still works), since neither he nor the other dude have phones (cops took them), also one hybrid edible for each of them, as a thanks for the m*th & the kindness. their hearts are in the right place but they have some fucked-up beliefs about "reverse racism" being real, while also saying in the same breath that you can tell our country is irredeemable by the way it continues to

treat black people. we were discussing medical weed for seizures on medicaid & 44 yr old guy mentioned one of his close friends, a black epileptic woman, whose seizures were frequent & severe enough they prevented her from working. then he added, in apparent bemusement, they she hadn't spoken to him in some time, & he wondered why. a little while later he relayed their last conversation & i was like "my dude, i can say with 100% certainty she is not talking to you because you said some *appallingly*, jaw-droppingly racist shit & did not even realize it was racist." then i, comma, a white person, explained to this man that he literally thought of their exchange as, like, an abstract argument over insignificant ideas, a theoretical exercise, & therefore considered it simply a smug gotcha to "counter" hotep theories about egyptian origin by claiming that "if that's true, american slavery & the oppression of black people in america are divine retribution for the enslavement of the jews in ancient egypt, an eye for an eye & a deserved punishment." like, first of all, what the actual fuck, if i were that woman i would also never speak to you again, second of all there's the collapse of historical time & mythical time, history & exegesis, an assumption that rests on spurious claims of biblical literalism (zionist colonization logic, btw! him: what's exegesis? what's zionism? me: never mind, not the point. exegesis is the interpretation of religious texts in a religious CONtext, in this case what you would likely call the hebrew bible.)--but most importantly it is 100% irrelevant to this discussion whether or not black americans are Actually Factually descendended from ancient egypt! you just told this woman to her face that the ancestry she claims, of which she's proud, is the reason & justification for SLAVERY & BLACK SUFFERING--not only that, but that if it WERE true, than black people would DESRVE to suffer, by DIVINE DECREE. you are trying to force her to abdicate her claim on this heritage by putting her in a position where she'd be forced to concede complicity in her people's historical & present-day persecution, oppression, & essentially the existence of structural racism. & using The Figural Jew as a rhetorical cudgel to bludgeon her into this corner. what a despicable thing to say. like, he hadn't considered it from her perspective at all, & once he groked why the comment itself was, like, unforgivable (idk, maybe she's more forgiving; she has a virtue-name), i started socratic-method-ing him through why it was particularly unforgivable for *him* to say to *her*--the individual is not responsible for the systems from they benefit, but they are imbricated in them, they are implicated when they actively perpetuate & uphold them, even with speech acts. & finally gave the same "there is no such thing as reverse racism because racism is not an individual act, it is an institutional, systemic phenomenon, & it is an ideology, one which individual acts can bear out or be in accordance with, & to which individuals can subscribe (this bearing it out in their behavior, in their institutional roles, in their interpersonal interactions--here i gave & solicited examples of each) or be subject (also gave & solicited examples). m*th makes me very good at Explaining clearly & he was surprisingly receptive--like, it was astonishing that it had not occurred to him??? but it hadn't, the same way it hadn't occurred to my mother, & she interpreted it as "reverse racist" when their next-door neighbor called her the "white devil" for disputing their property line, & i had to be like "ok but if you called in a random third party to mediate in lily-white [city], oregon, where white supremacists openly drive down the street in pickup trucks with swastika armbands, whose side do you think they would take, statistically speaking, in your property dispute. that's why racism is systemic & institutional, & your rude neighbor calling you a name over a disagreement does not constitute 'reverse racism,' because 'reverse racism' by definition cannot

exist." now this dude wants to like, read books, so i gotta get him some entry-level Intro To Racism primers??? how did i end up here, but better me than his black epileptic (ex-)friend, i guess??? jesus christ. both of these guys have the most chaotic, reactionary politics in a potpourri with these deep commitments to abolition & mutual aid & a kind of proto-anarchist consciousness, none of which would be called by those names, but all of which is borne out in practice & in the politics of everyday life. they remind me a LOT of my parents. i'm loath to imagine how they'd internalize my stepdad's rambling, street-preacher-style libertarian lectures. probably go out & buy guns & invest in gold on the stock market & double down on the conviction that free speech is being curtailed & individual rights are in jeopardy because you can no longer unleash a barrage of harassment against some guy on the street because you think he looked at you funny. these claustrophobic convictions, like the space to express oneself is getting smaller & smaller every day, *other people* are taking it away from you, suffocating you on all sides with their offense demanding your silence, they are *making* the walls close in--when in fact it's more like a holodeck. you're a member of the Hegemonic Group, afforded the privilege of the default, so you don't question the vast verdant expanse that is your domain--ah, Free Speech, the sun never sets on the empire of ~uncensored expression, you can say whatever you want whenever you want without facing consequences because you control all the organs that mete out consequences & you have also determined that those groups who might be adversely affected by your words--emotionally OR materially--are not, well...of consequence. but of course the vast verdant domain is an illusion, photons & forcefields, held together by the all-encompassing TOTALITY of the dominant group's hegemony, power, etc. once that power begins to redistribute throughout the system--however unevenly, however incrementally, however slowly--as even the smallest pieces are appropriated by those deemed inconsequential, who have endured years of systemic, material, institutional violence that allowed the dominant group to become dominant & retain its dominant position--once those 'inconsequential' groups speak up & say "actually, these words bear an indelible imprint of the violence enacted upon us, these words are the legacy of that violence, these words are a tacit endorsement of the ideology behind that violence, which classifies us as subhuman, & even if *you* can't hear those echoes, the words broadcast on two historical frequencies, so now that we're able to broadcast on a frequency *you* can hear, we request you find other language, & consider the implications of the words you've been using for years." well--once The Subaltern Speaks, the dominant group loses its 'innocence,' & becomes aware the vast verdant expanse of language is an illusion of infinite space, aware of the four holodeck walls pressing in behind the simulacrum of the horizon, & suddenly "what one can say without negative consequences"--largely social, sometimes, rarely, if social media goes viral, professional--feels much more claustrophobic. so they get angry. & some of them are just bigots, obviously, but some of them--like my parents, &, even, this weirdly well-intentioned m*thhead who said one of the most shockingly racist things i've heard in my life & *honestly didn't understand why it was racist*, is really riled up about free speech & individual rights, hates the government, hates "FANG" (facebook amazon netflix google) & has a bunch of dystopian conspiracy theories about data harvesting & personal information that only miss the mark in that they get too nefariously biopolitical (billionaires want to put microchips in everybody for surveillance to monitor our movements & sell us more stuff; they don't need to, they already use our phone location & browsing habits to generate the algorithm & sell the information to ad companies lol, it's digital& cast a

single illuminati figure in the role of comic book villain, controlling the operation behind the scenes like an evil puppetmaster (classic conspiracy fare; again, we gotta take that energy, that suspicion, the understanding that they are being taken advantage of & tricked, the idea that power & capital & resources are concentrated among a very small number of people, however it's not an individual wealthy villain with a desire for world domination who wants to turn Free Americans into microchipped drones, it's a *class* of people--or rather several classes, but *who those people are as individuals does not matter*. if you guillotined bill gates, another billionaire would take his place. bill gates qua bill gates is not the problem. it is classes of people who control the means of production & own property & profit enormously from exploiting the labor of a desperate, rapidly increasing underclass, i.e. from the system as it is. therefore it is in their interest to maintain the status quo, because it serves them. 'the rich get richer, the poor get poorer.' the middle class gradually ceases to exist. if you want to compound it by race, consider the GI bill as an example - you learn about it as the leg up that enabled thousands of WWII vets to buy houses, enabling them to enter the middle class. hundreds of thousands of third-gen middle class white americans still reap the structural, socioeconomic benefits of their grandparents' initial upward mobility, including,, very tangibly, those selfsame houses, which can be inherited & then rented out as a second property if the children or grandchildren accrue enough money to buy their own properties. but only about 100 black vets got approved for homeownership loans, despite the staggering numbers of black soldiers who enlisted & applied through the GI bill. anyway! the impulses are there, & they're only being funneled into conspiracy thinking because that makes intuitive sense on a narrative level. these guys have a high school education; so does my stepdad. their reading habits are...eclectic, sporadic, pretty much dictated by occasional recommendations & like, little free libraries around the neighborhood. it's both interesting & frustrating to see like - hey, here are these people, we agree on a lot of things, they're earnest & open & want to learn & would give their neighbor the shirt off their backs as a matter of principle. they'd give a *stranger* the shirt off their backs; they'd share whatever they had. even what chores there are in their collective--they live with two other guys--(dumpster diving, walking the dog, tidying up the apartment) are allocated by ability & inclination. they made advance plans to look after the dog & their roommate with War PTSD on the 4th of july if the fireworks upset them, jokingly called the dog an emotional support animal. you give them the tools, the reading, talk to them like normal people with a stake in society--like, imagine a society that would have a stake in people like you instead of criminalizing you & consigning you to the margins! that's already *political imagination* because anyone who occupies a marginalized position will have their existence politicized, whether they want this or not, so better to become a self-aware, self-reflexive political subject, no?--talk *with* them because tbh i am them, i'm just better at situational masking & also i am very very afraid of cops so i only damage property in groups during planned political actions (not spontaneously, because i feel a flash of rage at my neighborhood gentrifying, & simply do not have a superego, so i tear down the real estate sign for the fancy new apartment complex in a fit of pique, because in this house we believe that spontaneity can & should be developed into class consciousness, again, the seeds of which are there in the initial trigger for the spontaneous reaction, i.e. anger at gentrification. not opposed to a little direct action, but they're just gonna put up a new sign tomorrow, it doesn't advance your agenda or hinder the gentrifiers' progress. now, if

you sabotaged the construction site for the new apartment buildings & painted a few potent symbols + graffiti'd a pithy, written statement expressing your opposition to gentrification generally & these apartments specifically? in a prominent place, large font, eye level, visible & legible from oh, a block away? maybe as a member of a collective, your neighbors, perhaps? & you could sign it "[neighborhood] or [block] residents" to pack more of a punch, the power of a crowd speaking in unison to say "not OUR home, you predatory developers"? that's no longer spontaneous, impulsive, affective violence, & it's also no longer an individual--acting alone leaves you vulnerable. again--i didn't just *intuit* that he tore the sign down because he was mad about gentrification, i asked, in a genuinely curious tone, not at all accusatory, no hint of reprimand or censure, just...interested, "why did you do that?" & he was like "it made me fucking mad." & i was like "what about it made you mad? the apartments? how come?" & he thought about it for a minute & explained. i'm not sure *he* necessarily made the conscious connection until prompted. idk, i know people talk a lot about the fact that breitbart & drudge report are free while NYT & "all the news fit to print" is paywalled, & q-pilled covid hoax sites are free while "reputable" pandemic coverage & public health guidelines & explanations of mRNA vaccines for a lay audience are paywalled & that's true but also We Live In A Society & if you talk to the wingnuts who AREN'T that way because of any far-right ideology, a lot of them are just...autodidacts without much formal education but a lot of raw intelligence that leads to analyzing The Big Picture & trying to deduce a pattern, find a framework that explains why the world is the way it is, profoundly frustrated, deeply aware of American society's, universalized & figured as the world's, exceptional unfairness & cruelty, & *that can be redirected* with reading, discussion, prompting critical thought, introducing community connections, & perhaps most importantly for this genre of person, getting them to see patterns at work in terms of systems & structures rather than individuals, letting go of American individualism's explanatory power & belief in its liberatory potential (see: the sort of ad hoc libertarianism that goes hand-in-glove with much conspiracy thinking, both stemming from 1) mistrusting the government, & 2) ultimate freedom of the individual as the most sacred value, therefore it is what all enemies want to take away), outlining positive, actionable goals rather than just ambient suspicion & anger at authority, & figuring out how those goals can be accomplished more effectively by an organized collective (but this will ultimately benefit the individual). If the world isn't run by a shadowy cabal, if you begin to understand the structures responsible & how they manifest even on the scale of your block (e.g.!!! predatory developers buying up properties during a pandemic, tearing down affordable housing to build expensive condos on the lot, or giving old buildings a "spit and polish" so they can double the rent, pricing all the current residents out, not to mention all the little local businesses, almost all mexican & run by the mexican families who live here, that give our block its culture & will get pushed out by boutique coffee shops & the like, catering to a more affluent & almost certainly whiter clientele)--you can, in fact, change the world, something both of them repeatedly referred to as their purpose on earth. it may not be as a maverick figure, one against an army, but strength in numbers is an aphorism for a reason.

anyway! thse guys were also really weird about jews, in the philosemitic way conspiracy theorists of a certain stripe often are. the itinerant vagabond guy gave me one of his drawings; it's really lovely. i'm going to give them "are prisons obsolete?" & "the wretched of the earth" & some david graeber. 44 yr old guy has this idea that society is atomized & people aren't connected to each other & have lost the willingness or the ability to communicate with each other, also that the overreach of authority has driven some people to violence, & that makes the world feel unsafe to everyone else. he feels guilty because he is acutely aware that language, when wielded adroitly & intentionally, always has the capacity to manipulate; he is afraid of succumbing to the temptation, because he senses the coercive power of language within himself. the other guy was mostly quiet but said 44 yr old guy is one of the best friends he's ever had. he thinks animals are able to sense emotions and to heal, & he thinks they can mediate between people who have become too isolated, who have forgotten humans' innate ability to forge connections, approach others as social creatures seeking to bond instead of mistrustful, apprehensive, rejecting overtures of friendship because they expect subterfuge, or propriety has evolved to deem such overtures inappropriate outside of strictly delineated, artificially orchestrated contexts. deviation from the norm is not permitted. & back again to policing. they have an idea called "the omega family," omega for the end, a group of like-minded people who come together, who encounter each other serendipitously (predicted through auspicious auguries & recognized on sight through a constellation of signs & wonders, because of course we are all psychotic here, it was nice to just be psychotic & discuss these things like they were normal lol), & serve as catalysts to each other's "personal truth." anyway this is why i don't go out when i'm crazy, i always end up in situations like this, see also: the last time i did m*th, in a pizza hut bathroom in tallinn with an art student from glascow named muhammad ali (he went by ali), the son of white muslim converts--we thought it was c*ke but it got lost in translation & that's how i figured out i had adhd. later i got [redacted] by a filmmaker from kazan & he gave me his business card afterward for some reason, which was extremely funny. thankfully these dudes were better behaved. one of them even gave a speech about how men shouldn't rape people??? & also how our society shouldn't construct women as universal victims because in doing so it makes victimhood almost compulsory & shoehorns women into a victim role as part & parcel of womanhood? i was like yes my dude you are almost there, read the essay "abject feminism." (i did not tell them i was trans bc i wasn't sure how that would shake down, to be honest; couldn't get a read on it. did tell them i was gay & they respected it, though one did say he dated a lesbian once, & i explained that many men feel compelled to interject with an anecdote relating an exception to the rule or insist that they will he the exception to the rule, & it's really just bad manners, not even getting into the bad politics. he took it on the chin & talked about how the girl in question came home to find her partner dead of an overdose & his wife had just died of MS, so their relationship was more about grief & comfort than sexual attraction. i was like that's really, really sad, & it's wonderful that you were able to be there for each other at a time of such staggering loss, & i am a person who totally understands what you mean to communicate, but if a lesbian tells you they're a lesbian & you reply that you once dated a lesbian & they get offended & instead of responding with contrition or correction you elaborate on the tragic backstory of the relationship as though that explains the circumstances in which a self-proclaimed lesbian would date a cis man, other lesbians *will* deck you, or at the very least not take you, an unwashed white guy in

his 40s who isn't neurotypical & sits way too close for social convention in a way that could easily be construed as a come-on, in good faith.) tl;dr made some new friends, did some good drügs (i much prefer smoking m*th to snorting it, basically like purer, more potent adderall, & as such will not be doing it again for a LONG time, because i enjoy it FAR too much; slices through the brain fog & the chronic fatigue & the joint/bone pain, makes me able to pay attention, follow the thread of a conversation, actually be *interested* & want to ask *questions* & expand, build, encourage my interlocutor to elaborate, place more kal-toh pieces until the conversation shimmers into a three-dimensional shape, instead of being listless & exhausted & disengaged & *bored* all the time, so obviously i would get addicted immediately if given the opportunity, & i've known this forever lol)--now going to hydrate, refill pill case, write some emails, & meet C at the beach! not how i expected to reboot my brain, but it works! also putting them on limited facebook view because i try to keep some groups of people in my life quarantined from each other & that includes 1) my relatives & my academic ~colleagues (ne'er the twain shall meet), 2) my exes & my family, 3) my relatives, colleagues, & uh. a couple of lovely, but extremely psychotic dudes with very long criminal records i met while doing hard drugs

[shadows-twilight]

RWBY Volume 8 Chapter 10

My various thoughts and opinions on Chapter 10 of RWBY Volue 8, “Ultimatum”

SPOILERS BELOW:

Ooh. A photo-sensitivity warning. That’s always interesting to see. Nice of them to be considerate.

I feel so bad for these guards. They very clearly wish they were anywhere but here, doing absolutely anything but this.

That soldier will never be comfortable around birds again.

That explosion was absolutely breathtaking. The sounds fading out while soft music plays during a huge, dramatic moment is one of my favorite tropes and CRWBY executed it flawlessly here.

Neo considers to be her iconic self.

At least Marrow still cares. He’s such a good boy.

Oh. My. God. I love everything about Watts’s “Reason You Suck” speech to Cinder. The editing, the writing, everything is just super cathartic. Not to mention the voice acting. I mean, Chris Sabat being an amazing voice actor isn’t exactly a new concept, but the amount of frustration and disdain he poured into that rant was superb. I full believe that this rant was the outpouring of every feeling Watts has had for Cinders over years. Watts has certainly reaffirmed his place as my favorite member of Team WTCH.

Ok, I know there is a very vocal part of the FNDM that says we should feeling sympathy for Cinder, but unless they actually bring Pyrrha back, I just can’t. The fact that she is an abuse victim is certainly heartbreaking, but it doesn’t excuse everything that she’s done just then. While I don’t exactly feel joy seeing her break down and cry like this, I can’t bring myself to feel sorry for her either. To restate a sentiment that I made for Adam, I pity the girl that suffered in that hotel. She didn’t deserve what happened to her. I spare none for the woman she grew into.

D’aaw, the way Blake’s face lit up when Yang answered the video call. CRWBY has improved in a lot of ways over the years, but my favorite has to be how good they’ve gotten at facial expressions.

So, I’m assuming that it’s safe to say Hazel’s dead then? I mean, I know there’s a reason that people say “No Body, No Death”, I’m a pretty firm believer of that rule myself, but after that explosion, would there even be a body? I find it hard to believe we’d find anything bigger than a fingernail after that, I don’t care how tough he was. I wouldn’t mind being proven wrong in the future, but until then, RIP Hazel, you went out like an absolute boss.

I like how no one’s really in the wrong with the debate about Emerald. As much as I’m in favor of her redemption arc and the heroes working with her, it’s true that she’s done some awful things in the past, things that have heart them directly, so they are far from wrong in holding that against her, especially when even her ditching Salem was only done in the name of self-preservation.

Hmm, purple petals, wonder what emotion those represent. I like the theory that it’s guilt, but we shall have to wait and see.

So the cane can store kinetic energy? Is that, like, an impact thing, like what Yang and Adam have going on? Would it store the impact of every strike it took? That’s pretty cool.

On one hand, this is probably the cleanest version of the “refugee camp” scene I’ve ever scene in media before. On the other hand, it’s still a pretty powerful image. War sucks, y’all.

It would be easy to think that the simple answer to Ironwood’s quarry would be that Watts betrayed them, but interestingly, it was neither. Watts did everything in his power to force Penny into the vault, the only reason she isn’t is because she’s resisting. This is less Ironwood failing to recognize Watts as a slimy snake and more failing to recognize Penny’s agency and humanity.

Speaking of amazing facial expressions and people who clearly don’t want to be in Ironwood’s office, I am really feeling for Winter right now. I imagine Ironwood is starting to look very Jacques-like in her eyes right now.

Harriet, you are really going out of your way to make me ashamed to have ever called you my favorite Ace-Op. For the love of god, shut your snitch-ass mouth.

Well, that WAS a nice table.

Neo is incapable of being anything other than a little shit, and by god do we love her for it.

NEW SONG! We haven’t had a lot of those lately, I’m getting the feeling we’ll be getting a lot of them near the end.

So many hugs, all worthy of note, but my god, the face cupping, the forehead touch, it’s too much for my heart to handle!

Goddamnit, Ironwood, Whitley finally got a chance to do a good, and you just had to take it away from him.

Ooh, the way the broadcast transitioned from hologram to in person. Nice editing, well done.

I have a lot to say about Ironwood’s ultimatum, but instead of taking the time to type it all out, I’ll just give you the tl;dr version: FUCK! YOU! IRONWOOD! I wasn’t totally on board with Qrow’s idea of an assassination attempt back when he proposed in Chapter 2, but now, I’m a little more open to the idea. There’s no way Ironwood makes it out alive after this.

#rwby #rwby volume 8 #rwby spoilers #rwby thoughts and opinions #rooster teeth animation

[danganronpa-imagines-ftw]

How Kaede react to Shuichi’s execution and finds out that even after his execution is complete, Shuichi’s still alive and slowly suffering a painful death? What’s worse she couldn’t do anything to comfort him as he bleeds out.

That’s... pretty depressing... but I’ll get to it right away!

Also, some V3-1 spoilers below (and some V3-6, but that’s only if you read between the lines), so be weary of that.

Kaede Reacting to Shuichi Initially Surviving His Execution, but Bleeding Out in Front of Her

She didn’t want to believe it.

Shuichi killed Rantaro?

He told her why. He wanted to end the killing game by killing the game’s mastermind.

But all his words fell on deaf ears.

He just... he wanted to save everyone... he acted out of pure selflessness. She just couldn’t understand-

“...Why?” She sobbed quietly, tears running down her cheeks. The other students turned to look at her, except for Shuichi. He looked down with a pained expression, covering his eyes with his hat, unable to meet her gaze.

“Why did you have to do this, Shuichi? You... you didn’t need to murder... we could’ve come up with a plan, there had to be other ways! You didn’t need to act on your own!” She spoke sharply, her voice growing not with conviction, but with emotion. She didn’t want to seem like she was yelling at Shuichi, and she wasn’t. She was upset, heartbroken even, that he was put into a situation where he had to act so rash.

Shuichi must have thought she was angry at him, though, as he hid further behind his hat, every word searing into his already reeling mind, burrowing there to make sure he never forgot what he’s done, and what he’s putting Kaede through. She’s right... what he’s done... and what he’s putting the group through... he must be so selfish, right? How dare he try and solve things on his own, he should’ve trusted the others...

“Kaede... I’m... I’m so... so sorry...” He quietly weeped, only audible because of the sorrow silence in the courtroom.

Everyone’s faces were plastered with grief and shock. Even Kokichi’s usual mischievious was replaced with a near blank expression, sadness seeping it’s way in.

“Wowie! Everyone seems so down! You guys in the middle of a funeral or something?” Everyone’s attention turned to the bear, some grumbling or clenching their fists at his distasteful joke. “Anyway, the mood of this room has gone farther South than a penguins butthole, so I’m gonna assume you’ve come to a verdict. Please vote for the killer on the the screen below.”

The screen lit up with a four by four arrangement of faces, Rantaro’s greyed out as a reminder of what the detective had done. “An innocent man,” Kaede thought, “how unfortunate... that it ended up like this...”

Shuichi killed him, right? She just needs to tap the button and vote... so... why can’t... why can’t she move...?

She looked up at Shuichi. He finally looked at her, a few years spilling down his face. She could see him mouth the words ‘Do it.’

She closed her eyes, and tapped the button.

The wheel of faces spun, before landing on Shuichi’s face. A bright and cheerful “GUILTY” was right below, as confetti and music flowed from the machine. What a distasteful mockery.

“That’s correct!” Monokuma cheered. “The one who made guacamole out of this avacado is none other than... Shuichi Saihara!”

She still couldn’t believe it... he really did it? He... he really... H-He-

“Kaede!” A voice boomed. She looked over to the source to find the Ultimate Astronaut, Kaito Momota. Once he had her attention, his gaze softened. He looked on with slight pity. “Hey, uh, you should probably...” He motioned towards Shuichi, who stood there, holding his arm and staring at the ground. “This might be you’re last chance...”

Understanding his intentions, she walked over, the room silently watching.

“Shuichi I-“

“I’m sorry.” He interjected. Still staring at the ground. “I should have talked to you about this.”

“Shuichi...” She said quietly.

“I shouldn’t have acted so bold without telling you.”

“Shuichi.”

“I shouldn’t have acted on some silly theory-”

“Shuichi!” She yelled. She saw him tense up, his shaking ceasing. She lifted up his chin, staring into his eyes. Her sad smile met his confused and distraught gaze, face wet with fears.

“Kaede-” Before he could finish his sentence, she pulled him into a tight hug.

“Don’t apologize. Don’t ever apologize to me. The only person who should be apologizing is the twisted person behind this. Please, don’t blame yourself for this.”

Shuichi finally broke, clinging onto Kaede and sobbing. Distraught, despairing tears sliding down his face.

“Alright everyone, it’s the time you’ve all been waiting for!”

He cried into her neck, his legs nearly giving out beneath him. She told him not to feel bad, but he felt just so, so selfish. So selfish for... for everything he’s put everyone through so far...

“I’ve prepared a very special punishment for Shuichi Saihara, the Ultimate Detective!”

She held onto him, supporting him in his last moments, giving him any of the strength she could muster up.

“Let’s give it everything we’ve got! It’s PUNISHMENT TIIIIIIIIIIIME!”

Monokuma pulled out the dreaded mallet and hit the red button in front of him. A chain strapped around his neck, pulling him towards the ceiling. She reached out for him, but to no avail. He was gone. Just like that. Out of sight.

He found himself dropped in a room. Not just any room, but the library. “Must be a set...” He grumbled. Looking around the corner, he has a corpse. His corpse. Well at least, a lifelike replica. It lay crumpled on the floor, much like Rantaro’s corpse.

‘Beautiful Lie, Dreadful Truth’ ‘Ultimate Detective Execution: Executed’

He studied his lifeless “body.” The sight alone made him want to be sick to his stomach. He investigated the body, however. Picking up the clues, all of which seeming oh so similar to his own crime.

The clues fit together quite easily. The killer of this corpse on the ground was...

“Rantaro...” He said, not to himself, not to others, to the innocent life he took. “Rantaro... Rantaro I’m...” He dropped to his knees and awaited his fate, the clunking through the vents was taunting him, alerting him it’s coming. He didn’t run, he deserved this, he’s a muderer. “Sorry.”

*CRACK*

The shot hit his head, and he crumpled up immediately. He looked over one last time, watching Monokuma drop a bloody shot put ball at the scene and slipping back into the hidden door in the library.

“Huh... that’s... strange...” His fuzzy mind managed to comprehend. He tried to raise his head, but a sharp pain shot up his neck, causing him to yelp and cry out.

“SHUICHI!!”

He looked up. “K-Kae... Kaede...?” He sputtered

No. No. No.

This can’t be happening.

It can’t... it can’t end like this...

Not... Not like... N-Not like this...

She had her eyes half closed the whole time, not wanting to even watch Monokuma’s cruel “punishment.”

She watched as a Monokuma appeared behind him, hitting him with the shot.

She didn’t expect him to still be alive, though.

Suddenly, she ran towards the fence separating them.

“SHUICHI!!” She yelled. She saw him raise his heavy head, and try to speak.

“SHUICHI!!” It was all she had the effort to say, nothing else could come to mind. Even as Tenko and Gonta grabbed her arms to gently pull her away, she cried and cried and yelled, watching him suffer like this hurt her so much.

This had completely broke Kaede.

She dropped to her knees and stayed there, staring despairfully at the sight. She thought Shuichi was trying to say something, or smile at her, but she couldn’t tell. All she heard was ringing, and the world was too blurred with tears for her to make out.

All she could say was “Shuichi.” What else was there to say? He was forced into commuting a crime, suffered a cruel “punishment,” and Monokuma couldn’t even grace him with a quick death.

The others must have come to a silent agreement, as they filed wordlessly into an elevator. Kaede didn’t leave.

She wanted to reach out to him, to help him, to comfort him, but it was to no avail. The fence separated them. She couldn’t get to him...

She couldn’t... help him... as he lay bleeding out on the floor, writhing in pain.

She swore she’d get revenge to whoever was responsible. She just couldn’t let them get away.

Shuichi killed Rantaro. And now this had to happen.

...Shuichi... killed Rantaro...

That was the truth she had reached.

...Right?

~~~

Whew, apologies for that one m8, I may have gotten a bit carried away. I added a lot onto it, but I think I still stuck with the prompt alright. If you don’t like it, I can rewrite it, since I took a lot of “artistic liberties” with this one.

But anyways, I actually got really into this one, so I hope you enjoy it!

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #new danganronpa v3 #drv3 #ndrv3 #danganronpa imagines #angst #kaede akamatsu #shuichi saihara #saimatsu #sorry anon #my sincerest apologies about the penguin ass joke #but don't try to tell me monokuma wouldn't say that #i dare you

[rohad93]

Holly Jolly Secret

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21920110

Downtown empire city was covered in a soft sheet of snow, from the street to the rooftops of the skyscrapers, everything had a sheen of white to it.

In one such building, the light from an office glared out on the darkening city, the surrounding windows going dark one at a time. 

The constant clicking and clacking of the computer keyboard was the only sound in the office as Yennefer Diamond sat hunched over the desk, typing away at the end of the year reports her mother wanted before next week's end.  

The large 29th floor office, with an entire wall of floor to ceiling windows, overlooked the entirety of Empire City and the setting sun had very nearly disappeared behind the many skyscrapers, the last tendrils of orange, pink and yellows fading into the navy blues and inky blacks of a winter night. The beautiful sky however was duly ignored by the office’s sole occupant in favor of the work in front of her, a rather common occurrence.  

It was ten till five on a Friday evening and even with her office door closed, she could still hear the racket of her employees doing anything but working, and it grated on her nerves as she went through their fiscal earnings for the last year line by agonizing line, getting more annoyed by the second as she did with the ongoing noise in the background a constant annoyance.                                                                                   

Diamond industries had suffered some… losses over the course of the past year and it showed in every line of numbers she punched in, glancing occasionally at the stack of papers at her side, checking every statement and receipt. They had hardly done poorly, but not as well as last year and it irritated the thirty-two year old executive to no end as she hit the keys a little harder than necessary. 

She stopped and leaned back in her chair, heaving a sigh and pinching the bridge of her nose  as she looked at the columns and lines of numbers blurring together tiredly as she thought about the next few hours she would be sitting here trying to finish these so she could move on to anything else.

A knock on her office door made her sigh heavily through her nose, just before the door opened and her personal assistant, Daisy, popped her head in, along with the now unfiltered noise of an entire office floor on a Friday evening, two weeks before Christmas and 5 minutes before punch out time. 

The dull throbbing that had begun it’s slow build over the last hour behind her eyes gave a sharp jab, making her close her eyes for a long second before opening them again, exhaustion dulled amber eyes focused on Daisy, silently prompting her to speak. 

“I have the rest of the reports you asked for, Miss Diamond.” She held up the armful of folders and Yennefer nodded, prompting the other woman to enter, closing the door behind her and shutting out the majority of the noise as she entered, but the sharpness of her headache remained, making her frown deepen.  

“Just lay them there.” She nodded to the corner of her desk, turning her tired eyes back to her computer monitor and the endless lines of numbers still waiting for her to review. The glare of the screen made another sharp stab of pain shoot through her head just behind her eyes. 

Daisy sat the folders in the empty space before holding up her tablet and reading through the itinerary for the upcoming week as was the norm on Friday, just before her PA left for the weekend. 

“You have a meeting with Ms. Diamond first thing Monday morning…” She started and Yennefer rolled her eyes. What could her mother possibly want now? They had had lunch together just this afternoon and she had made no mention of any meeting. Not that her mother neglecting to tell her things was new by any stretch of the imagination.

“What else?” She grunted, laying her chin in one hand and tapping her mouse on her screen with the other.  

“You have three phone conferences Tuesday and…” She continued while Yennefer only half listened, most of her attention still focused on the black and white spreadsheet sitting in front of her and trying to estimate how much longer this would take, while the clock on the eastern wall above her leather guest couch ticked away. 

“...provided everything stays on schedule Friday.” Daisy finished scrolling through the listed items on her tablet. 

“Good, thank you.” Yennefer nodded, not looking away from the screen and having missed most of what her assistant had been saying, as if they wouldn’t run through the itinerary again Monday morning. 

“Oh, here’s your drawing for the Christmas party secret Santa.” She dug a slip of paper out of her pocket and held it out to Yennefer. 

This did cause Yennefer to turn and look at her assistant before her gaze fell on the folded slip of paper in her outstretched hand.

“The secret Santa?” Yennefer repeated, like the words were foreign to her.  

“You signed up for it, Miss Diamond, last week?” she reminded. “After the investor meeting, they passed around the signup sheet and you told me to put it in your calendar; today was the drawing, so I brought you yours.” She still stood there holding out the little slip of festive red paper.

Yennefer clenched her jaw as she looked at the paper, vaguely recalling the signup sheet that had been passed around after the end of last week’s investor meeting, but she had been in a hurry, trying to get out as the head of imports had been heading her way when she had told Daisy to simply sign whatever it was in her stead. 

She finally took the slip of paper, not caring one bit that her assistant saw her scowling as she did. 

“That will be all, Miss Almar.” Yennefer dismissed her assistant with a huff, trying and failing at not letting her annoyance shine through. Daisy was used to it though and nodded.

“Have a good weekend, Miss Diamond.” She smiled, nasally voice exceptionally grating on Yennefer’s nerves and headache tonight as she left the office. 

Once she’d gone Yennefer looked down at the little slip of paper like it had personally wronged her. She had had no intention of participating in the gift exchange, just as she hadn’t the past five years she had worked in her mother’s company.  

She cursed herself for the momentary lapse in judgement last week for not simply doing it herself and saving herself the trouble of having to get some sort of meaningless gift for one of the many nameless workers that worked for her mother. 

She glared down at the paper as she opened it, fully expecting the name to not even ring the faintest of bells in her head. 

‘Belle Ryan.’

Yennefer sat bolt upright, staring down at the name written in elegant swooping script on the tiny slip of crimson paper held tightly between her fingers. 

Immediately the image of a tall, fair skinned woman with piercing blue eyes, platinum hair and a lilting Irish accent filled her mind’s eye. 

Of the two-hundred something people in the office, Yennefer had to get her, of course. She pursed her lips tightly together, staring down at the name and willing it to change into any other, but it remained the same much to her chagrin.  

She sighed heavily to herself, leaning back in her chair, the slip of paper still held loosely between her fingers. 

Now, she had to get a gift for the one woman in the office she had an untameable attraction to, ever since she’d started nine months ago. 

She groaned as she dragged a hand down her face. 

They had met at a company function nearly two years ago. Her father was a large investor in the company and she was attending the party with him. When he passed away nearly a year ago and she had inherited his stock and investments in the company, her mother had been quick to take her on board as an executive in the production sector as head of imports. 

She was quite skilled at finding product from sources willing to sell or trade. 

They had a handful of talks here and there whenever they passed each other in the halls or in meetings but Yennefer was always quick to make an excuse and get away.

With good reason.

Belle Ryan was well off, highly educated, and maybe the most beautiful woman Yennefer had ever seen, and everything about her seemed to make Yennefer’s better senses stop functioning. 

Yennefer liked to consider herself to be quite well spoken when she needed to be, but she came up blank more often than not in the Irish woman’s presence. 

Now she needed to come up with a gift for her by Thursday the twenty-third, the night of the party and their last day of work before the holiday. She looked at the desktop calendar sitting next to the monitor. It was Friday the tenth. 

In theory that was plenty of time. In reality, she had no idea what she could possibly give the other woman. She knew very little of her personally, though she might know more if she wasn’t so afraid of making a fool of herself in front of her. 

She drummed her fingers on the large oak desk, staring off into space, deep in thought, the year end reports sitting completely forgotten as she mulled over her predicament before shaking herself out of it. 

This was exactly what thinking about that woman did to her. She shook her head and sat up, concentrating on the reports in front of her once more, this was far more pressing then secret Santa presents, though, far more mind numbing. 

She didn’t allow herself to think about her coworker again until she was shutting down her computer and pulling on her coat to leave her office two hours later, long after the regular staff had gone. She carefully put the last files she needed to look at into her briefcase before leaving her office. The rest of the lights were all out in the cubicles as she walked across the room to the elevator. Everyone else had gone home hours ago.

She got on the elevator and punched the button for the ground floor. 

Not for a second noticing the other lit up floor on the panel.  

Maybe she had simply thought her name too many times or maybe the universe was playing a game with her, but sure enough the elevator stopped on the 26th floor and when the doors slid open, they revealed the very woman she had been doing her very best not to think about.

Belle Ryan was standing there in a sapphire blue pencil skirt and white button up blouse. A small blue, diamond shaped pendant on a silver chain peeked out from the neck line. Her long platinum locks were pulled up onto her head in a perfectly neat bun off her long slender neck and a laptop case was slung over her shoulder.

When those blue eyes fell on her, they lit up, mouth turning up into a soft smile and Yennefer felt herself go ridgid under that cornflower gaze.

“Good evening, Yennefer,” she said as she stepped into the elevator, the doors closing behind her. “Do you always stay this late?” she asked, clasping her hands together in front of her as the doors slid closed behind her, closing them in together for at least the next twenty-six floors. 

“I stay late more often than not, but tonight I was finishing the year end reports.” She said stiffly, looking from Belle to the much to slowly moving number on the elevator control panel. “Usually I’m the last to leave. Though apparently, not tonight.” she said, trying to ignore the nerves humming just beneath her skin.

“Ah, yes, I try to leave at five myself but as you said, there are a lot of year end things to be done.” She once again aimed that beautiful smile at her and Yennefer tried not to fidget under her attention as they moved ever closer to the ground floor. Yennefer just hummed an agreement. 

“I didn’t see you at the thanksgiving dinner the company threw. Will you be attending the christmas party? I’ve been told Whitney spares no expense,” she said.

“If my mother enjoys anything, it's an elaborate party, and yes, I’ll be there,” she nodded.

They traveled a few more floors in silence and Yennefer could feel herself getting antsy in the small quiet space, shifting her weight back and forth on the balls of her feet.  

“Have you eaten yet?” Belle suddenly asked. “I was going to grab something from the Thai place across the street if you’d like to join me?” 

She asked just as they hit the ground floor and the doors slid open to the lobby.

“Thank you, but I really need to hurry home.” Her mouth was moving before she even had time to think about what she was sas saying. Belle looked disappointed and it was like a sucker punch to the gut that a face like hers should ever be anything but happy.  

“Oh, of course, have a good weekend, Yennefer.” Belle nodded, her smile not as bright as before as she walked out of the elevator and through the pristine lobby toward the front doors, her black heels clicking across the polished white marble floor.  

Yennefer stood there watching her go long enough for the doors to slide shut again, her reflection stared back at her in the highly polished metal and she cursed herself. 

“Why did you say no?” She couldn’t help but ask her reflection with a scowl;predictably, there was no answer. She ran her free hand through her short blonde hair tiredly and sighed before hitting the button again, a little harder than necessary, and the doors once again opened up to the lobby. It was empty, save for the couches and chairs. Even the receptionist desk stood empty. 

She grumbled to herself as she headed for the exit, the only sound being the clicking of her own heels on the marble as she left the building.

The cold hit her in the face the moment she stepped out the front doors. The sting of winter winds biting at her nose and ears as she walked towards the parking garage at the side of the building. Luckily, her reserved spot was close to the entrance. She pulled the coat tighter around her, regardless.   

She let herself glance across the street to the Thai restaurant, it’s red neon open sign blinking a greeting. She hesitated a second before she scoffed at herself again as she turned away toward the parking garage. How foolish would she look to go over there now after saying she needed to get home? She had shot herself in the foot on this one. 

She quickly left the office and restaurant behind as she climbed into her car. 

She had a lot to do before her meeting with her mother on Monday morning and she wanted to spend as little time thinking about it as possible. 

~ ~ ~ ~

Monday morning Yennefer sat in her office, clicking through her emails and sipping on her coffee. 

It was only seven thirty, the majority of the office, including her assistant, wouldn't be in for another half hour. This was her quiet time of the day. The still mornings before everyone came in, when she could work in peace and solitude, even if only for a little while. 

Her phone buzzed, rattling across the polished wood surface of her desk. She glanced at the notification over the top of her coffee mug. 

‘Rosie’      

She sat the cup down and picked up the phone. What could her sister possibly want at this hour of the morning?

She pressed a finger to the sensor on the back, opening the message. A picture of a toddler with curly black hair in a high chair and his nose turned up at a tiny, red plastic bowl of oatmeal greeted her. She couldn’t stop her lips from curling up even if she wanted to at the sight of the boy. 

Three bubbles popped up and she waited only a second before the message came up.

“This is your fault!”  

Yennefer snorted at the message, looking back at the picture of her three year old nephew before typing out a quick reply. 

“I can hardly be blamed for your poor cooking skills.” She typed back.

The bubbles popped up before she could even take her finger off the keyboard. 

She set the phone down, ignoring the buzzing that immediately followed her text with a grin, she took another long sip of her coffee as her phone buzzed several times. Only when it finally went silent for more than a full minute did she pick it up.

“There is nothing wrong with my cooking, you jerk!” Yennefer snorted at that.  

“Ever since you made him your oatmeal, he won’t eat mine! What are you putting in it?

“Can Steven and I stay at your place next week for Christmas?” That did give Yennefer pause.

“Where’s your husband?” She questioned.

“Greg has to work so it’s just going to be me and your favorite nephew! Please?”

Yennefer pursed her lips. Her penthouse was hardly child proof, though more so than their mother’s luxury house, not that Rosie would stay there if she could help it. Things were still tense between Whitney and her youngest child, understandably. 

When your mother is overbearing and controlling and your sister runs off and elopes, getting pregnant; family functions and holidays are a little tense. 

Yennefer sighed and took another slug of her coffee as she typed a response.

“If you must.” 

Instantly the bubbles indicating her sister’s incoming message popped up.

“Thank you! See you next Tuesday!” 

Yennefer rolled her eyes as she sat the phone back on the wireless charger sitting next  to her keyboard. 

Suddenly there was a knock on her door and she glanced at the clock- ten till eight. Her assistant was early, even for her. 

“Come in,” she said, turning back to her screen and lifting her mug to her lips. 

“Good morning, Yennefer.” Belle was standing in her doorway and Yennefer sucked in a breath, inhaling a mouth full of coffee in the process. 

She choked, coughing and sputtering on the warm liquid in her lungs, tears in her eyes as she tried to breath.

A hand was patting her back, helping expel the coffee from her airways.

A full minute of hacking later she was finally breathing again, Belle at her side, hand still resting on her back as she composed herself. 

“Are you alright?” She looked incredibly concerned as she peered down at the blonde. 

“Fine. I’m fine.” Yennefer rushed to assure her, voice still raspy as she tried to regain control of her breathing. 

“I’m sorry, did I startle you?” she asked, stepping back as Yennefer stood, trying valiantly to compose herself in front of the executive importer. 

“No, no...I swallowed wrong is all.”  She pulled the handkerchief from the pocket of her ochre colored blazer and wiped the water from her eyes with as much dignity as she could muster; which didn’t feel like much at this moment. “I’m just surprised to see you, or anyone here this early…” she managed. 

“You’re here, and, from the looks of it, have been for some time,” Belle observed, glancing at the desk, coffee mostly gone and several folders already sitting open on its surface. 

“Yes, well. I usually come in early to get a head start on my work. There’s always something more to do…” she trailed off, brushing imaginary dust from the front of her blazer if only for something to do with her hands. 

“You are the VP of finance,” Belle agreed with a smile that made the back of Yennefer's neck grow hot.

“Did you need something from me?” she asked, settling on folding her hands behind her back to keep them still.  

“Oh! Yes, I nearly forgot.” She held a hand to her mouth and chuckled to herself. “I was wondering if you knew what the meeting this morning was about?” she asked.

“The meeting?” Yennefer repeated, blinking. 

“Yes, with Whitney? The email I received Friday evening didn’t say, just that I was supposed to meet with you and Whitney ” Belle looked at her curiously. 

Oh, right. Her meeting with her mother that Daisy had told her about Friday before she’d left. 

A meeting she had not been informed of by the CEO; nor that it would include the head of imports. She felt herself grow prickly by the perceived slight from her mother all over again. 

“I haven’t the slightest idea myself,” she admitted, glancing at the clock; five till. “The meeting starts in a few minutes so we may as well go and find out.” She nodded toward the clock on the wall.

“Oh, yes, I guess we should,” she nodded as they walked out of the office. Yennefer surreptitiously checking her reflection in the mirror to the left of the door as she followed Belle out of her office, shutting the door behind her. 

A few people were starting to trickle into the office from the elevator and they were quick to move out their bosses way as she got on the lift with Belle and hit the button for the top floor. 

The quiet of the elevator was oppressive to Yennefer, though she wasn’t sure she was grateful or not that it wasn’t to last. 

“How was your weekend?” Belle looked at her as the elevator began to move upwards. Even with both of them in heels, the blonde was still a couple inches taller. 

“It was fine, yours?” she asked back conversationally. 

“Quiet, but nice, I spent most of it practicing.” 

“Practicing?” Yennefer couldn’t help but ask curiously.

“Yes, on my piano. I don’t get to it as much as I would like these days. It’s nice to sit and play to relax.” She folded her hands in front of her, against the green and blue plaid skirt she was wearing today. 

“I didn’t know you played…” 

“Since I was a little girl.” She smiled, seeming to light up under the line of questions, to which Yennefer was quick to take note. 

“What kind of music do you play?” 

Before she could answer the elevator dinged and the doors slid open to the thirtieth floor.

The room just outside the elevators opened up to a large pristine white carpeted waiting room.

The eggshell colored walls in combination with the carpet always made Yennefer uncomfortable with it’s sterile atmosphere. Belle seemed equally uncomfortable in the room.

Her own floor of the building was decorated in soft blues, grays and whites that Yennefer always thought had a nice calming effect whenever she had to go down to the twenty-sixth floor, though she preferred her own floor with it’s rich brown wooden flooring and light yellow painted walls. 

They crossed the waiting area with it’s stainless steel table and the black leather upholstered chairs situated around it, moving toward the desk sitting just outside the doors to her mother’s office. 

The woman behind the desk, even with the black eyepatch that covered her left eye, in her pink floral patterned skirt and white blouse was perhaps the most colorful thing in the entire room.  

Poppy Spears, her mother’s PA, smiled at them as they approached.

“Ms. Diamond is waiting for you; go ahead.” She gestured to the door and Yennefer just grunted in affirmation, Belle following behind her. 

The office was decorated in a similar fashion to the waiting room. Tones of black and white, though with a few more personal touches. Some expensive paintings in abstract hung from the walls, the harsh pops of reds in them the only hints of color to be found. 

She was not surprised to find her mother sitting behind her large desk, already looking at something on her computer screen. Coal black eyes looked up when the door opened and she smiled, accentuating the lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth, despite the heavily applied makeup, revealing two rows of ivory white teeth.

“Ah, Yennefer, Miss Ryan, do come in; have a seat.” She gestured to the plush black leather chairs sitting in front of her desk. 

Yennefer sat in one of the chairs, arms immediately folding across her chest; still less than pleased about this surprise meeting that she hadn’t the faintest idea of the point of.

“I’m sure you’re both wondering why I’ve called you in so let’s get straight to the point,” her mother began without preamble. “Very recently I was brought to the attention of some assets up for sale in Delmarva. However, before we acquire them for the company, I need them to be assessed by the both of you.”  

“Why us?” Belle asked before Yennefer could, though the one hiked blonde eyebrow spoke loudly enough of her question to the ageing CEO. 

“The acquisition in question is a business that imports precious minerals and jewels called Mica Incorporated,” she explained, folding her hands atop her desk. “You are the head of imports and acquisitions, Miss Ryan; you know best what’s worth keeping or not. I need you to go over what they’re taking in and what we want to keep when we buy them,” she explained. 

“Of course,” Belle nodded. 

“You want me to go over their books…” Yennefer said. It wasn’t a question. Whitney smiled at her eldest.

“Of course. Your flight leaves at five am tomorrow.” she informed.

“Tomorrow?” Yennefer shot upright in her seat.

“That is rather short notice,” Belle intoned. Whitney just nodded to both of them.

“Yes, I know, but it has to be all closed out before the holidays, so it is a rush job, I’m afraid,” she admitted. “The flight and hotel have already been booked; you’ll come back Wednesday afternoon. Your assistants have all the information you need.” 

With a glance at each other, they both stood from their seats at the obvious dismissal and made their way out of the office. 

Inside, Yennefer was fuming. It was one thing to have to do this, she had done similar jobs before, but the lack or warning was what really grated on her nerves. Her mother had obviously known about this since at least Friday afternoon, since her assistant had been told, yet hadn’t made any mention of it all weekend. Not that they had talked at all over the weekend. 

The fact that she had not deigned to inform her earlier, as opposed to springing it on her the morning before, was maddening.

She did not stomp, but her footfalls were considerably heavier than they had been on the way in as they made their way past Poppy to the elevator. The PA only smiled at their retreating figures, more than used to people leaving the office in a sour disposition, Yennefer especially. 

She smashed the button to her floor as she got on, crossing her arms over her chest. She very nearly forgot about Belle standing next to her till she reached out to press the button for her own floor; she turned to her once the doors had slid closed.

“I live on the other side of town, by the river. You probably live closer to the airport, don't you?” she asked. Yennefer nodded, glancing over to see the other woman playing with the blue pendant hanging from her neck. 

“Yes, near the park,” she confirmed, trying not to growl, her fingers tapping agitatedly against her arm.

“Since it’s on the way would you like me to pick you up in the morning?” She looked up at the blonde and all the boiling anger that had been simmering in Yennefer’s gut seemed to vanish, watered down by the baby blues looking up at her. 

“That’s… very kind of you, yes,” she finally managed to spit out. 

“I’ll be there at three?” she asked and Yennefer only managed to nod, just as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open on her floor and she stepped out. 

“Great, just send the address to my assistant, I’ll see you in the morning.” She smiled and Yennefer only managed to nod before the doors slid shut, moving down toward the twenty-sixth floor, leaving her to stare at her distorted reflection in the metal doors.

“Miss Diamond?” 

Yennefer jumped, whirling around to find Daisy standing there, her tablet held in front of her.

“I have your flight and hotel information, shall I email it to you?” she asked, looking down at the tablet screen before looking back up at her.

And just like that, the cooling embers of her anger burst back into flames. 

“Yes,” she ground out, stomping across the floor to her office, Daisy on her heels, tapping at her tablet screen. 

Yennefer felt her phone buzz in her pocket, signaling the arrival of the email, followed by another. 

Entering her office she made a beeline for her computer and opened up the two emails; one a confirmation of her flight and hotel accommodations that she only briefly glanced over before opening the other, detailed information about the business and the location of its head office. 

She saved the address into her phone and looked up at the clock. Eight-thirty. She looked over the last few things she needed to do and decided. 

“Daisy…” Her PA was quick to jump to attention at the call of her name. “I’m leaving at noon so I can get things together before tomorrow morning. Move anything pertinent I need to do today too before then or reschedule it,” she commanded, eyes already trained on something on her screen.

“Of course.” She nodded, already swiping away at the tablet screen. 

Yennefer went to close the email but caught sight of the ‘To:’ box where she and Belle had both been tagged in the email and paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

“Daisy, please send my home address to Miss Ryan’s assistant.” she said after a moment before resuming her work. 

She could see her assistant out of the corner of her eye, looking at her curiously before nodding to herself and turning back to her tablet, fingers flying across the screen as she worked to complete her tasks. 

With that out of the way, she was able to turn fully back to her work without distraction. One phone conference, several very long individual calls, and thirty emails later, and she was shutting down her computer and heading out with Daisy at her heels, taking quick notes as they walked.

“If anything urgent comes up, call me and I’ll take care of it,” she instructed, snapping her briefcase closed as she waited for the elevator.

“Of course.” Daisy nodded, still tapping away at the screen.

 The elevator doors opened with a ding and she stepped inside, turning to face her assistant. 

“Take the rest of the day off,” she said, pressing the button for the ground floor.

“Thank You, Miss Diamond. Have a nice trip,” she trilled as the doors slid shut, leaving the VP alone in the quiet elevator.  

“I doubt it,” she grumbled to herself as the elevator moved downward. 

~ ~ ~ ~

Yennefer yawned as she sat at her kitchen table, taking long sips of the black coffee in her cup. Her bag was packed and sitting next to the front door, along with her laptop case. 

Her phone sat silent and dark on the table as it usually did at three fifteen in the morning.

She ran her hand through her slightly damp hair, still coming around, even after the near boiling shower. 

If nothing else, she was glad she didn’t have to get herself to the airport. She would need to think of some way to show Belle her thanks.

Which reminded her. 

She still had to get her a gift for the secret Santa; she cursed to herself. 

She still had lots of time and perhaps she would learn something useful that would give her even the faintest idea of what she could give her. 

True, if it had been anyone else, she would have just picked up a gift card of some kind and called it a day, but that wasn't going to earn her any points with the executive importer she was sure.

She sat contemplating it and sipping her coffee when her phone lit up, the vibration making it rattle across the table.

She picked it up, squinting at the bright screen. 

Instead of a name there was an unknown number and a single line of text. 

"I'm parked out front."

It took her a second before she realized with a jolt who it had to be and jumped up, setting the empty coffee cup in the sink before pulling on her leather long coat and picking up her bags, leaving her apartment and locking the door behind her.

Outside, her apartment building was cold and dark, save for the christmas lights that decorated some of the buildings and trees, and the headlights of a single silver car parked at the curb idle-ing.

 When she stepped out onto the street from the lobby, the driver side door opened and Belle climbed out. Her hair was down, laying in silky curtain of white against the back of her deep blue peacoat and it gave Yennefer pause before the biting cold forced her to keep moving toward the car.  

“Good morning.” Belle greeted her with a smile warm, enough to chase away some of winter’s bite as she popped the trunk. 

“G’morning…” she mumbled, as she stuck her bag in the trunk, her hot breath coming out in wispy clouds around her head. She walked quickly to the passenger side and climbed inside. Her ears and hands burned as the hot air coming out of the heater hit her cold skin.

The very next thing that hit her was the subtle scent of lavender and something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on.  

Belle climbed into the driver's seat and once the door had shut, Yennefer realized the pleasing and delicate floral scent was coming from her.

 A chill ran up her spine but not from the lingering cold. Clearing her throat she looked at Belle as they pulled away from the curb and toward the airport.

“Thank you; for picking me up.” she clarified. 

Belle glanced at her, smiling before turning her eyes back to the road.

“Of course. I was happy too,” she said before turning her full attention back on the road. 

Yennefer wanted to say something, anything really, but she came up blank and rather then make a fool of herself, she stayed quiet for the rest of the ride, looking out the passenger window.

Arriving at the airport was a hustle of checking in and waiting in lines that stretched on forever, thanks to the jolly time of year. 

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, they were seated comfortably next to each other in first class. 

She pulled off her coat and glanced to her side where Belle had pulled out a book. She wanted to say something but she seemed rather concentrated on the literature, so, with a silent sigh, she leant back and closed her eyes, determined to sleep through the flight. 

Which she did.

She didn’t open her eyes again until they had landed and Belle was gently nudging her awake.

They were able to get their bags quickly and get out to the rental car waiting for them.

“Do you mind if I drive?” Yennefer asked distractedly as she looked at the address for their hotel on her phone.  

“Not at all,” Belle answered as she set her bags in the trunk. Yennefer nodded as she set her own things next to hers before climbing into the driver’s seat.  

“It should be close by…” she mumbled more to herself than anything.

‘We aren’t expected at Mica till eleven,” Belle said. 

Yennefer looked at the clock on the dash blinking nine-fifteen at her. They did have time. She hummed in agreement, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel and glancing at the GPS on the phone as she followed the road to the hotel.

She wasn’t at all surprised by the scale of the building when she pulled into the parking lot. Her mother never settled, even if only for one night. The parking lot had been shoveled but everything around was covered in several inches of snow. Lights of red and green, as well as  wreaths decorated the front of the building. 

They gathered up their bags and headed inside, which was just as lavish as Yennefer had predicted. The lobby was pristine, and reminded her too much of her mother’s office.   

“Good morning Ma’am. Name?” the man behind the counter greeted.

“Diamond.” she told him simply as he turned to his computer typing something before nodding.

“Here it is,” he said, typing a few more things and handing over two key cards.

“I’ll only need one.” She tried to hand back the second but he held up a hand.

“No Ma’am, the other is for your companion. Miss ...” He glanced at the screen before turning back to her. “...Ryan.”

“We only have one room?” Belle asked, stepping forward as Yennefer went silent. 

“Yes, I’m sorry Ma’am, but when the reservation was made it was the only room available for the night, everything else in the city has been booked due to the time of year,” he informed them, looking apologetic.” 

Yennefer’s jaw clenched and she could feel the words about to erupt from her mouth when they were silenced before they could even start.

“That’s alright, we’ll make do for one night, right?” Belle smiled at the relieved looking desk clerk before looking over at her, and all the vitriol gathering on the end of her tongue vanished in a puff of smoke. Left with no other options she just nodded and held out the second key card to Belle, trying not to look as disgruntled as she felt.

“Breakfast is still being served in the dining room. Enjoy your stay, ladies,” The clerk smiled as they walked toward the elevator. 

Yennefer huffed inside as they got on and hit the button for the third floor.

“I hadn’t even thought about how booked up all the hotels would be,” Belle hummed.

“Tch, all they could have had left is a cot in a closet and my mother still would have insisted we come,” she grouched, unprepared for when her companion giggled. 

“We’re lucky they at least had one room then,” she grinned and it took all Yennefer had to look away. She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her leather coat and nodded, unable to stop the twitch of her lips which Belle seemed to notice, if the widening of her grin was anything to go by. 

The doors opened on the third floor and they quickly found the room in question. Belle opened the door and walked in, flicking on the light but she stopped suddenly, Yennefer nearly running into her.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Oh, no, nothing.” she assured quickly, moving into the room properly and allowing Yennefer in; she stopped herself.

Situated in the center of the room was one queen sized bed. Not the two fulls she had expected.

‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,’ she thought to herself.

She glanced at Belle, who was unpacking her one bag and putting her clothes in the second drawer, but was glancing at Yennefer in the reflection of the vanity situated atop the dresser, waiting for her reaction.

Yennefer’s hands clenched. There were no other rooms to be had and she didn’t want to make this any more awkward than it already was by having a fit about it when it certainly wouldn’t help the situation or put either one of them anymore at ease. 

She exhaled heavily through her nose and moved to set her bag on the bed before taking a deep breath. 

“Do… you have a preference for side?” She couldn’t believe she was asking. 

“Oh…” Belle looked at her in the mirror’s reflection and Yennefer thought just maybe her cheeks were a little pink but they had just come in from outside. “Closest to the wall?” she said, uncertainly and Yennefer nodded, setting her laptop case on the bedside table. She preferred to sleep on the outside edge anyway.  

Belle disappeared into the bathroom and she took the opportunity to put her clothes in the top drawer she had left empty for her. 

She grumbled to herself while she did. 

Of all the people she had to go on this trip with and then end up sharing not only a room but a bed! It, of course, had to be the most attractive woman in the office. 

She snorted to herself; it could have been worse, she supposed- it could have been a man or her mother. She grimaced at the thought, just as Belle reappeared.

“Would you like to go down and have breakfast?” she asked.

Yennefer glanced at her watch. It was only ten.

“Sure,” she nodded. Anything so that she didn't have to stand here, awkwardly pretending she was fine with sharing a bed with a woman she could hardly talk to most days.

The food set out downstairs was the usual continental breakfast and there was no telling how long it had been sitting there, so Yennefer grabbed a bagel and an orange from the fruit stand before finding an empty table in the back corner.

Belle sat down across from her with a bowl of the hotel’s oatmeal and Yennefer couldn't help but make a face that was immediately noticed.

"What?" Belle questioned, head tilted at the look being leveled on her breakfast.

"Hmm?" Yennefer looked up, amber meeting blue and flushed, realizing Belle had noticed her looking at the bowl of vile, mushy oats. "Oh, no nothing." She took a bite of her bagel to avoid saying anything else.

"You're just glaring at my breakfast for no reason?" The tone was more than a little amused and Yennefer's neck burned as she chewed on the bagel.

"I didn't… mean anything, I just have an aversion to most oatmeal. I got food poisoning from it once as a child," she informed.

"Oh, I see," Belle said.

"Mhmm," Yennefer nodded. "I have my own recipe which is the only kind I or my nephew will eat." She couldn't help the twitch of her mouth, thinking of the other morning when Rosie had sent her that photo of Steven refusing her oatmeal as she picked up her coffee cup.

"Your nephew?" Belle questioned wide eyes. "I didn't know you had any siblings. Do they work at Diamond industry?"

Yennefer snorted into her coffee cup.

"No." she stated flatly. "My sister and mother have a… let's say, tenuous relationship," she mumbled the last part.

"What about your nephew?” she asked before spooning some of the oatmeal into her mouth, but all her attention was on Yennefer. 

“Steven? He’s very musical and intelligent for his age, he’s going to do great things.” She nodded to herself; she was certain of it.

“I think that’s the nicest thing I’ve ever heard you say about anyone; you seem very fond of him.” Belle smiled teasingly and the heat that had receded from Yennefer’s neck was back full force. “Do you have a picture?” She leaned forward eagerly.

She pulled her phone from her pocket, and flicked through it a few times before coming to a picture of Rosie holding Steven on the beach last summer when she had taken a rare week off to go with them, coincidentally that had been the week she’d fed Steven her oatmeal one morning and he wouldn’t touch any other since. 

She handed the device to Belle who cooed at the little curly haired boy and Yennefer couldn’t help but grin.

“He’s adorable,” she murmured. “Is that your sister?” she asked looking at the younger woman with bright pink dyed hair, though it was curly, just like the little boy’s. Yennefer nodded, peeling her orange. “I would have never guessed,” she said, handing the phone back.

“We have different fathers,” she shrugged. “Rosie is eight years my junior,” she said. popping a peeled slice into her mouth.

Belle sat there eating her oatmeal and trying to wrap her head around two different men being interested in the curt and exacting Whitney Diamond, and had a hard time wrapping her mind around it as they finished their breakfast and headed for the office.

~ ~ ~

Belle did not see Yennefer again until almost five o’clock that afternoon. She didn’t have too much trouble sorting through the company's inventory and current trade contracts but one look at Yennefer when she got off the elevator to the lobby said that her counterpart had not had as easy a time.

“Are you alright?” Belle asked as they walked out of the building toward their rental. The VP was hunched over, face set in a deep scowl.

“A monkey could keep better books!” She dropped her laptop case into the back seat, trying not to slam the door and not really succeeding. Belle winced at the bang.

“I spent the entire day just sorting out the mess,” she growled, plopping down into the driver’s seat. 

“Is there no way to turn it around and make it profitable? The state of their inventory and their contracts are good.” 

“Oh, it will be profitable. I have everything sorted out now and I've put together an offer my mother has approved, I just needed to know what your assessment was before putting it to the owner tomorrow. Everything is set, whether or not he accepts the offer before he goes broke will be up to him.” she grumbled, starting the car.

They drove in silence for several minutes, Yennefer still too annoyed with her day to have time to feel awkward. All that time spent trying to make sense of their accounting had left her with a dull throbbing headache. 

“Do you want to get dinner before we head back to the hotel?” Belle suddenly piped up as they drove past a row of restaurants. 

“Sure,” she grunted. 

They ended up in a booth in the back of an Italian place near their hotel. 

“Outside of time spent in meetings, I think this is the most we’ve ever interacted before,” Belle suddenly said once the waiter had walked away and Yennefer looked up at her, garlic bread in her mouth. She finished biting it and and chewed, trying to figure out what she was supposed to say in response to that.

You make me nervous, so I try to avoid you most days? 

That would go over about as well as it sounded. 

She was saved from having to come up with an answer when she went on.

“What do you do for fun, Yennefer?” she asked and she fidgeted a little under the intense blue eyes looking at her.

“I don’t usually have much free time with all my work… but when time allows, I enjoy theater,” she finally said after a moment of thinking. 

“What kind of theater?” Belle looked genuinely interested and it made Yennefer’s nerves settle a little.

“Musicals, mostly. I used to do do some performing in college,” she admitted. 

“You sing?” Her eyes shot open at that and Yennefer could feel her face warming.

“Not anymore.” She concentrated on the bread in front of her.

“Whyever did you stop?” she couldn’t help but ask, though it didn’t occur to her until after the words had left her mouth that that might have been prying, “Oh, maybe that’s too personal?”

Yennefer just shrugged.

“Between my major in business and minor in finance there wasn’t any time for long rehearsals and show nights.” Yennefer pursed her lips, remembering exactly when her grades had took a slight dip during the production of ‘War paint’ with it’s long hours that had taken time from her studying, and her mother had been beside herself that her ‘little hobby’ was affecting her school work.

It was easier to quit then deal with all of that. As much as she’d hated to.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Belle frowned, having watched the dark mood that had settled over her companion for a brief moment but decided against asking about it. “I’m rather fond of musicals myself. I double majored in music and business actually, though the second only at my father’s insistence. He had many ventures and since I was an only child someone had to manage them.” She gave a little shrug. 

“That’s very impressive,” Yennefer commented and was fascinated by the slightest of pink hues that dusted across her companion’s fair complexion.

“Thank you,” she said it almost bashfully, looking at Yennefer from beneath her lashes and immediately Yennefer only wanted to set her at ease, despite the rigidness of her own spine.

“Have you seen any shows lately?” she asked. It was the only thing that came to mind. 

“I haven’t, I wanted to see the production ‘Rent’ downtown next month but they’ve already sold out every showing.” She pouted and against her better judgment Yennefer couldn’t stop herself from thinking how cute it was. 

“It’s always popular,” she agreed, just as the waiter was setting their food down in front of them, though that didn’t stop Belle from talking about the shows she’d seen in the past and the more she talked, the more at ease Yennefer felt herself becoming. 

They talked the entire meal about theater and music. 

She had even managed to forget all about their sleeping arrangements till they got back to the hotel and she was faced with the impending reality that for the first time in longer than she cared to admit, she would be sharing a bed with someone. 

By half past nine it seemed there would be no more stalling and she picked up her night clothes and went into the bathroom to change. 

Once she was dressed in the yellow cotton shorts and tank top that served as her sleeping clothes, she looked hard at herself in the mirror.

“This is fine. It’s not weird; this is a business trip. Just go to sleep,” she mumbled to herself before leaving the bathroom. 

Belle looked up at her when she came out, and she was working so hard not to make eye contact that she didn’t notice the much longer than necessary look over the Irish woman was giving her before picking something up off the bed and heading into the bathroom. 

With a sigh of relief, Yennefer climbed under the blankets and scrolled through her phone messages to find she had an unread text from her sister.

“I talked to mom… she wants Steven and I to come to the company party Thursday, I’m only coming early if I can still stay with you. I didn’t tell her that though, I know she’d put the squeeze on you.” 

Yennefer snorted- that was an understatement. On the one hand that was five more days with her sister, and while they got along much better than Rosie and their mother, they still didn’t see eye to eye that often.

On the other hand, that was five more days with Steven, which was ultimately the clencher. 

“Fine,” was her to the point reply. 

It was just as she hit send that the bathroom door open and she looked up on instinct, and immediately wished she hadn’t.

While she would be hard pressed to call that off the shoulder, baby blue nightgown that stopped  more than halfway up Belle’s thighs transparent, it’s paper thin looking fabric certainly wasn’t as opaque or long, as she wished it was. 

Her face burned scarlet and she could feel it. Amber eyes locked with blue for a moment that felt much too long just as her phone buzzed and she jerked to look at the screen, to look at anything but the barely clothed woman in front of her.

“You’re the best, Yen!”

She pursed her lips and set the device on the nightstand. She wasn’t sure she was the best at anything right now, while she carefully avoided looking in Belle’s direction as she felt the bed shift while she climbed under the sheets.

She took a deep breath and glanced at Belle who’s eyes seemed to dart away when she looked her way, making her tense up even more. 

Her skin felt itchy and hot, tingling in an unpleasant way. She cleared her throat, still not looking at her companion though she swore she could feel those powder blue eyes burning a hole in her.

“Goodnight,” she said simply, as she reached over and flicked off the bedside table lamp and laid down, facing away from Belle.

“Goodnight” was echoed back to her before the other light went out, casting the room in darkness and quiet.

Her face was still burning, the image of that nightgown was seared into her memory as though with a hot iron. 

She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to look Belle in the eye at a meeting ever again. 

She felt the brush of skin against one of her legs and electricity jolted through her from the point of contact all the way to her fingertips.

“Sorry” came the quiet apology from in the darkness.

“It’s fine,” she lied. She was anything but fine at the moment as she carefully scooted closer to the edge.

She tried to stay as still as possible even as she felt Belle move around, neither of them touching again. She was practically hanging off the edge of the mattress, least she brush up against her and cause another flash of intense heat to shoot through her nerves. 

Maybe her therapist was right, she thought idley. Maybe she was touch starved.  

She tried to relax, but doing her best to be as still as stone ran counter productive to that goal.

It was tense for a while as they both settled, eventually all movement on the other side of the bed ceased.

She laid there for a long while, eyes clenched shut and trying to fall asleep while being perfectly still, when a sudden sound made her eyes pop open, looking out into the darkness, her ears strained for whatever it was she’d heard.

It was a low rumbling noise, coming from just over her shoulder.

With an amused snort she realised what she was hearing was Belle.

Snoring.

She listened to the sound, without realizing that she was slowly relaxing to the rhythmic sound of Belle’s breathing, and was drifting off.

The next thing she knew she was waking up, the grogginess of sleep slowly ebbing away as she peeled open her eyes. 

The room was still dark and quiet, only the sound of the heater running broke the otherwise quiet stillness in the room.

She looked at the clock sitting on the table, squinting at the numbers.

Five forty-five glared back at her in neon red. Here alarm wasn’t even due to go off for another fifteen minutes. Not that she would be able to go back to sleep now. 

That extra time would give her time  for an extra long shower and get woken up before breakfast. 

She started to sit up when something pressing tightly against her back gave her pause.

A quiet mumble against her shoulder made her seize up as she realized that Belle had shifted in her sleep and was now pressed firmly against her back. 

‘Of course’. 

She could feel every bit of the other woman’s body heat radiating through the gossamer thin nightgown right into her back, not to mention every dip and curve of her body; and every breath she took, still snoring quietly. 

Yennefer began to sweat, nerves on fire; she needed out. 

Moving as slowly and carefully as she ever had, Yennefer slid out of the bed without disturbing Belle, who curled up into the warm empty space she left. She breathed a sigh of relief.

 She needed a shower.

Moving carefully through the dark room she entered the bathroom and closed the door quietly behind her before flicking on the blinding light.

She quickly grew accustomed to it as she turned on the shower as hot as it would go. 

To her disappointment it wasn’t near as hot as her shower at home, but it would make do.

Once her muscles started to unclench, she found herself humming a Christmas song that had been playing on the radio on the drive back to the hotel from dinner. The humming turned to singing. 

The words began quiet, mumbles under her breath as she washed her hair, but grew into a loud sound reverberated off the smooth tile walls until she shut off the water and climbed out. 

She’d never admit that singing in the shower was a daily occurrence. She dried off quickly and dressed before opening the bathroom door. 

She was surprised to find the room lights on and Belle, still in her nightgown, and putting some things in her bag. It was only now Yennefer noticed that she was still wearing the small diamond shaped necklace; she must have slept in it. She looked like she had been up a while and she wondered if she had woken her up after getting out of bed… and if she had heard her singing. 

She looked up when Yennefer came out of the bathroom and smiled.

“Morning.” She smiled and Yennefer returned the greeting. “Are you done in there?” She gestured to the bathroom and Yennefer nodded, still rubbing the towl through her damp hair. 

She supposed Belle hadn’t been able to hear her.

She gathered up her clothes and a towel before walking toward the bathroom. She glanced at Yennefer just as she passed by on her way into the bathroom.

“You sing beautifully.” Belle grinned just as she closed the bathroom door, leaving Yennefer standing alone and red faced in the middle of the room.

~ ~ ~

Despite the rough start to her morning, the rest of the day went much smoother than the day before. She presented the buy-out to the short, bald CEO who hemmed and hawed a while at the number before Yennefer threatened to withdraw the offer altogether.

He signed the papers soon after, which she quickly faxed to her mother to sign, placing the originals carefully in her briefcase. 

With business done, they were both eager to return home. 

The flight back was spent sleeping. She was going to need all her energy for her sister and nephew in the coming days. 

She and Belle spoke little untill she was dropping the blonde off in front of her apartment building. It seemed it had snowed again while she was gone, as piles of fluffy white stuff covered every surface save for the freshly shoveled walk. It certainly made it feel more like christmas. Steven would be beside himself with the snow at the park.

She walked around the car, bag in hand as the driver side window rolled down.

“Have a good evening, Belle.”

“I'll see you tomorrow,” she smiled before the window rolled up and she was pulling away.

Yennefer quickly made her way up to her floor; she had child proofing to do and a phone call to make to a friend that owed her a favor.

~ ~ ~  

She in fact didn’t see Belle on Thursday nor Friday, she actually didn’t see her again until the next Thursday, at the company’s Christmas party. 

The room was loud and full of people, all dressed in the loudest and ugliest christmas themed apparel Yennefer could imagine. 

Herself included; unfortunately. 

She glared at anyone who stared too long at the ugly green sweater with bright yellow garland sewn all the way around it, with it’s shiny red balls that hung from the material, jingling with every step she took.

She'd outright refused the monstrosity when Rosie had held it out to her; till her nephew had gotten teary eyed at the refusal of what was apparently his hand picked gift. 

So, now she was wearing it. 

She drew the line at the Santa hat, instead pushing it down over the toddlers curly locks, making him giggle.

She held Steven in her arm, tucked against her shoulder as her sister and assistant chatted, scanning the room for Belle. A red envelope held in her left hand. A sudden part in the crowd and those platinum locks came into view.

“Here. I’ll be back in a minute.” She handed Steven over to his mother before walking off through the crowd, jingling all the way, much to her annoyance.

She was halfway there, envelope in hand, only to be intercepted by her mother.

“Yennefer, this is for you, my dear.” She handed over a thin rectangle wrapped in blinding silver paper. “I had the good luck to draw you as my secret Santa.” The older woman smiled and Yennefer cocked a brow in silent question as to what about that was lucky, but it also made her wonder what poor bastard had gotten her mother if she was participating.

She pulled the wrapping off to find a gilded silver frame with a photo of no one else but her mother, dressed in the gaudiest grande dame outfit she could have ever imagined, complete with the boa, and all she could do was squint at it while Whitney beamed.

“What do you think, my dear? Lovely, isn’t it? I thought you might put it in your office at home.” She tapped the frame with a long, manicured nail.

“Thank you, mother,” was the best Yennefer could muster in response to the gift, not that it was completely without question, given the older woman’s history in the gift department. All things considered, she had gotten off easy. 

“Oh. My. God.” 

Suddenly her sister’s bright pink head was looking over her shoulder at the photo, Steven held in her arms. “What is that?” she asked, completely gobsmacked.

“Your sister’s Christmas present,” Whitney huffed, glaring at her youngest.

There was a tense moment before Rosie turned to her and with the most serious face she could muster said- “I’m sorry.” 

She couldn’t stop the grin that followed that statement, especially when Whitney turned on the youngest.

“What exactly do you mean by that?!” she huffed.

Yennefer quickly walked away as the two began to bicker, there would be plenty of that till New Year’s. She scanned the crowd for a shock of platinum white hair. Finding it, she squared her shoulders and walked purposefully across the room. 

She stopped just behind her as Belle turned, jumping at the blondes sudden presence, smiled nonetheless. 

“Yennefer! Merry Christmas, I didn’t see you much last week. I went to your office last Friday and your assistant said you were out.” 

“I did most of my work at home since my sister is staying with me till after Christmas,” she explained her absence. 

“Oh, here I thought you were avoiding me…” 

“Of course not!” Yennefer quickly said, making Belle’s eyes widen before she laughed happily.

“I was only teasing you,” she assured, laying a hand on the blonde’s forearm. Yennefer could feel her neck burning. A reoccuring theme whenever she was in the executive’s presence. “What do you have there?” She tilted her head, noticing her mother’s gift.

 Now her whole face was red.

“My mother was my secret Santa..,” she grumbled, presenting the photo to the now wide-eyed woman. 

“Oh my..,” she started. “That’s… lovely?” She didn’t seem too sure. Yennefer sighed heavily.

“No, it isn't, but this is on par for her,” she mumbled quietly so only the two of them could hear. 

“I see.” She giggled and Yennefer smirked before remembering the reason for coming over.

“This is for you.” She held out a red envelope.

“For me?” Belle repeated, taking the envelope with her name written on it in smooth, blocky script. 

“I was your secret Santa,” she explained, trying not to fidget under the seemingly intense cornflower stare.

“Oh!” She looked back down at the envelope, testing it in her hands. “Thank you, Yennefer,” she said as she pulled open the flap and reached inside, her fingers wrapping around two slips of paper.

She pulled them out and looked curiously at whatever it was and after a moment her eyes went wide, head whipping up to look at Yennefer.

“Rent tickets, how did you…?” she didn’t know what else to say.

“I know someone…” She shrugged. “Merry Christmas, Belle.” 

“I… thank you, Yennefer.” She smiled so prettily up at her, Yennefer had to give herself a mental shake, thus cueing her to go.

"You're welcome, have a good time."

“Wait, Yennefer…” Belle started just as she turned to go but whatever she was going to say was cut off by a small but high pitched voice.

“Yen!” 

They both turned to look, just in time to see a little boy with curly black hair in a Santa hat come running across the room straight into Yennefer's knees.

"Pick me up?" He looked up at her with wide eyes and held up his arms.

Not one to disappoint him, she reached down and pulled him up, saddling him against her hip. 

"Ohh..."

They both looked up at the coo. Belle was staring at the little boy with wide eyes, even more so when he saw her and tucked his face into his aunt's shoulder.

“Hello,” Belle smiled.

"Don't be rude." Yennefer gave him a nudge. He peeked up at her before looking at Belle.

"Hi.." he said shyly.

"You must be Steven." Belle leaned down, smiling at the boy. He turned to face her better.

"Yeah!" He grinned and Belle couldn't help but return it.

"Your aunt told me a bit about you, you know. She thinks you're very impressive," she said and he looked awed by that before looking up at the obviously embarrassed VP with starry eyes and smiling brightly. 

"Yes, well… We need to get you back to your mother." Yennefer cleared her throat, turning away.

"Wait just one second, Yennefer." She reached out, laying a hand on the blonde’s shoulder before she could walk away.

She turned, half way around, waiting as Belle seemed to think about what she was going to say, biting her lip.

“Considering that we’re both theatre fans, perhaps you’d like to go with me. To see the show?” she asked, pushing a few strands of white hair behind her ear. 

Yennefer knew her face was red if the heat coming off it was anything to go by.

“Like..” she floundered for words, only for Belle to beat her to it. 

“Like a date,” she finished, looking more amused than anyone had any right to be, despite the color spreading across her own face.. 

“Yes,” she managed to spit out even though her mouth felt like it was full of sand.

“Great! Well, I have an early flight to Ireland in the morning; I need to be going, but I’ll see you when I get back?” she asked.

Yennefer nodded and Belle only smiled in reply before she turned to go. She watched her move through the sea of their coworkers before she was out of sight.

“Oooh, who was that?” 

She jumped, turning to find her sister giving her a shit-eating grin, and her face burned even hotter. 

“None of your concern,” she scowled, handing Steven over as he held his arms out for his mother.

“She was pretty…” Rosie teased, looking where Belle had vanished before turning back to her.  

“Unless you want to stay with mother, I suggest you drop it..,” she warned with a glare.

“Touchy… fine, have it your way.” She waved, walking back toward the refreshment table with Steven in tow. 

Once she was gone did Yennefer allow herself to glance back into the crowd, but a small flash of light caught her eye.

Laying on the floor, just peeking out from beneath the dessert table was a small silver pendant with a blue, diamond shaped charm that she immediately recognized. She scooped it up, the fine silver chain still warm against her skin as she walked quickly toward the elevator. 

The tiny bells of her sweater monstrosity jingling rapidly as she maneuvered through the throng of people; who unlike any other day were not so quick to get the hell out of her way. 

“Belle!” she called, just as the elevator doors were about to slide shut. Her hand slipping into the crack just in time to make them slide back open, to the executive’s surprise. 

“What, what’s wrong?” She blinked up at the blonde.  

Instead of saying anything she simply held out her hand, revealing the necklace laying in her palm. Belle gasped, grabbing the delicate jewelry.

“My necklace!” She held it in her closed fist, pressed to her chest and looked up at Yennefer.

“It was on the floor,” she explained simply. 

“My father gave me this,” she said quietly. “Thank you.” 

She said it so sincerely that all Yennefer could manage was a nod.

“You’re welcome,” she mumbled. 

Belle was looking up at her but her eyes seemed to be drawn to something just above Yennefer’s head; she chewed her bottom lip. 

Before Yennefer could ask her what she was looking at the other woman practically lunged forward, pressing her lips to the stunned VP’s cheek.

Yennefer could only stand there, slack jawed, staring at the the red-faced but smiling Belle as she stepped back, allowing the doors to slide closed this time, leaving her staring at her beet- red, faced reflection. 

A whistle made her whip around to find her sister, Steven still in her arms, grinning at her. She only flushed harder as Rosie pointed upward and she glanced up to find that someone had hung a sprig of mistletoe in the frame of the elevator.

“Maybe you’ll have a second aunt before you know it, honey,” Roise said to her son with a smug grin as he looked at her, wide eyed.

“Rosie!” 

#bellow diamond #steven universe #fanfic #yellow diamond #blue diamond #AU #christmas story

[moonlit-nest]

I got our Wizard a gift

   So I play 5E with all of my school friends, right? Quick background of our party makeup: Our DM, of course, and then me, a Paladin (don’t worry, I’m not the “Lawful Stupid” Variety) Sorcerer multiclass named Sunn. Additionally, you’ve got Fib the Rogue, Kepesk the Bloodhunter, Lotë the Druid, Edgar the Fighter and Minthe the Wizard. 

    So, my character, Sunn, is a pretty nice guy. At least, he tries to be. He thinks about others and likes to handle party talking and social skills, due to Charisma being his primary stat. Not always, but usually. He’s kindhearted, charming, and passionate about the people he cares for.         Then you’ve got our Wizard, Minthe... complete 180. A Necromancer who tends to front a cold shoulder, and doesn’t seem to really care about other people. At least, not at first (there were backstory reasons as to why she acted the way she did at times, though that’s for another tale). She raises the dead despite the social stigma behind her specialized magic, and tends to take a no shit attitude, and an all or nothing approach. I guess in a way you could say she and Sunn both took the role of joint “Speakers” for the group, since Sunn was the lighthearted “let’s go, team!” Type of guy who rallies his comrades, and Minthe opposed this by keeping the group on track and focused, and was surprisingly level headed, even during times of crisis. You’d think they wouldn’t really get along, right?

   Well, as it turns out, they actually clicked, and surprisingly well! Maybe it was that they were both dedicated and experienced casters, maybe it was that Minthe found my strange character interesting (he’s a Furry, which is almost basically unheard of in our setting by the DM, unless you count established races like Lizardfolk or Arakockra under the furry umbrella term. Buy and large though, Sunn was pretty unique), but they grew to have a slightly antagonistic but genuine friendship the first chance our group got to chill and roleplay in an inn. To get an idea of what their relationship looks like overall, Minthe’s player and I often joke about situations the two could find themselves in, and how, generally speaking, Minthe and Sunn make jabs at the others expense frequently, but always in good fun, as they know each other well enough to not take it so far as to hurt one another’s feelings. In fact, when things get serious, they work surprisingly well together! Admittedly, that may be in part due to the fact that Minthe’s player and I (we’ll call her... Sam, for the sake of privacy 💛) have a pretty good relationship outside of D&D, and we both are very experienced D&D and role players, so we just mesh easily.    So, with that context in mind, we come to the story part. Our party had recently traveled underground (long story short, it was a more secret route into the castle of the city we were under, we were rescuing an innocent woman from execution). There was a puzzle we had to get past involving the guard of said underground path (Sam did a great job here, as she had to tell the guard a story that would entertain him in order to pass, and she rolled very high along with her very good roleplaying, which was more than enough to let us pass), and then we were in the stretch towards the underground criminal base that would allow us passage to the castle from the inside. As we make our way through the narrow cavern, which slowly filled with water, insuring we didn’t lag behind too much, we made our way to a... very... peculiar area.      The walls seemed to end, and all around us looked like a night sky, even below the semi-opaque stairway that seemed to slowly crawl downwards. We had outpaced the water in this point, so we were free to carefully observe our surroundings in this otherworldly zone... I’m not exactly sure what this was to be honest, but my current theory was, at some point, we failed to perceive a portal of some kind that connected us to this magical hallway, a limbo between the cavern to wherever the underground criminal zone was. Anyway, no point in delaying, we begin proceeding downwards into the abyss, dimly (and I do mean  dimly) lit by artificial star lights.   

   I should mention that, at this point, we concluded this session. A week passed us by, and we were hyped! Unfortunately, Sam was unable to proceed with this week’s session due to family business I believe, so we agreed to proceed with the session and edify her on the events immediately once the session concluded. As for Minthe, we felt it would be wrong to do her the disservice of just pretending she was there but not letting her do anything, so, despite our lack of a character sheet, we agreed to let someone use her character. I took that role, since I had the relative most experience with both 5E and Spellcasting out of the rest of the players at the time. 

   Now, resuming the in game events, we’re traveling through this odd realm of darkness, faint light, and downward stairs. Eventually, we begin to worry a little, so we all decide we’ll be making perception rolls to keep cautious. The dice were rolled, and every single one of our characters heard a strange series of noises as we listened... it sounded like... chittering...   

   Naturally, we’re unnerved. This was the first thing we had in this campaign that even felt reminiscent of horror themed, so we weren’t sure what the DM had planned... we get our vigil, and remained stalwart, proceeding further below. Eventually, we see the outline of a massive set of doubled doors, complete with large handles that were probably higher up than Lotë, who I wanna say was the shortest member of the party. However, the doors aren’t all we see.       Above, we see multiple lights flicker in the darkness. One, two, four, eight, sixteen, thirty... tens... hundreds. Blinking in quick succession. They were a slightly different color than the stars surrounding us.     These, as was obvious, were no stars.        From just above the door, an incredible and mortifying sight revealed itself - a monstrous, gargantuan, opalescent Spider, the starlight now reflecting off of its revealed form, its razor sharp fangs, needle pointed legs and gemstone-fortified body sparkling in all of its death-foretelling glory. Then, as if things couldn’t be worse, the seemingly infinite eyes of above closed down towards us - hundreds of smaller twinkling spiders, raining down upon us.

   Roll Initiative.       Our Bloodhunter Kepesk went first, activating his crimson rite on his weapon and charging for the spider. Then a small group of the swarm attacked everyone in a small enough zone, dealing minimal, but still noteworthy, piercing damage. Keep in mind that the fact that this battle takes place on a stairway limits our mobility, lest we risk falling off of said stairs into who knew where...   

   The orders continue, Sunn strengthening the party with his magic, Lotë hurling spells and supporting friends when needed, wisely using fire to help ward against the webs that the many abominations sometimes used to keep us in place, Edgar bravely defending his friends with his viscous morning star, Kepesk distracting the leader of the creatures and dealing significant damage with his ice-coated scythe, Fib narrowly dodging and weaving through attacks and cleverly using the darkness to pass checks (presumably for being able to disengage and hide) before returning to the fray with impressive sneak attack damage, and Minthe channeling her most powerful spells at her disposal to decimate the army of spiders.       Now, Kepesk, he’s a... cocky son of a bitch. Well, mayhaps not cocky, but I lack a better term. He’s absolutely chaotic, as is his player, though in the best way possible. He only does nonsense when he knows it can benefit the group, or at least himself and not harm the group, and it always makes for a good laugh! This boss fight would be no different, as he evades and disengages from the giant spider, and attempts to use her own weapons against her - by charming one of the spiders. Not, you know, magically charming them or commanding them. Just... you know, trying to tame it. In the middle of the fight. While also dodging the flurry of swipes and jabs from the boss.       It may sound ridiculous, but we just thought it was as hilarious as it was badass, and we were dying of laughter, even the DM was into it (despite the fact that she later described never in a million years anticipating it, so good on her for being awesome about improvising shit). Now, he did, admittedly, have to earn it. A check to learn more about the spiders, a check to calm the spider, and then a few other things to make sure it didn’t die, fall, etc etc, since we were trying to kill as many spiders as possible, and he was sandwiched between the horde and the boss. He definitely suffered some hits and had to earn his pet gem spider, but, he did!       Now, I see this, and I’m laughing while I think of a way to help. Maybe I have a spell that can make his checks easier, or buy him some time by getting the boss spider’s attention with a Divine Smite from Sunn, as I still had one last spell slot for him. But, I realized, Sunn rolled less than adequate on his initiative, and he was out for more than a few rounds, at least six or so. Minthe, however? She was next.   

   Now, for whatever reason, my thoughts lingered on Sam. “Man”, I thought, “what would Sam think if she were in this situation with Minthe?”       Well, quickly, I had an answer. I smiled to myself, now giggling quietly.       “She’d want a pet of her own, right?” I thought to myself. I mean, I wasn’t sure if she had a familiar or not at the time, but I knew the idea was humored by Sam and our DM. Maybe, just maybe, I could actually pull it off! A check to figure out what these things are, how to tame them, just get Sunn or Edgar to protect her from some spiders and boom, should be easy, right? Yes, it was. Just... not as easy as I thought it would be.       “DM?” I ask, politely.       “Wassup?” She asks in return, awaiting my response.       “Minthe notices Kepesk not fighting with one of the spiders, and reasons that she’s away from most of the enemies... can she try to tame a spider as well?”       She thinks on it for a second, and asks me to explain my reasoning, which I do. Minthe was known for being a little strange, since she was a Necromancer and didn’t really give a damn what people thought about her, so it’s not like it was out of character. I also add that it would be a nice surprise for Sam, since she had thought about getting Minthe a familiar before, and maybe this would be a way to ease that desire until a real familiar could be obtained (she ended up getting a... raven, or maybe a crow, as her legit familiar. He’s hilarious and can communicate using telepathy, he’s surprisingly eloquent with common, if a bit snarky)! The DM rules that I can certainly try, and to roll an Arcana check to learn more about these creatures. Minthe, being a wizard, had a very high score, and I rolled decently, between 10 and 15, so I was safe, and learned all of the information Kepesk had. Then, I roll another Arcana check to try and tame it (the reason I rolled Arcana and not Animal Handling, as I recall, was that Minthe was using her knowledge and actual facts of how to tame the creatures as opposed to intuitive care for the animal). I pick up my D20, shake it with both hands, and mumble “pleeeeaaase work..” to myself. I let go, and a few clacks ring out. People were curious if I could do it.       Natural 20.       I was pumped for the rest of the night - not only was the spider okay with chilling with Minthe, it fell in love! With two new allies on our side, we defeated the rest of the pests and took down the Massive Spider herself! Victory was ours, and the session ended as we pushed open the heavy metal gates, greeted with the sight of relatively civilized society. It was full of crooks, but at least there was an inn, so we felt pretty damn good.       I eagerly texted Sam the report of the session that night once I was in my car on the way home (wasn’t driving, lol), and told her the tale of how she would have a viscous, dangerous little crystal spider to roleplay with as her character in the next session. To this day, both Minthe and Kepesk still have their spider kids and they honestly love them very, very much.       The End! 💛

#dnd #d&d #dnd storytime

[aion-rsa]

The Alienist: Angel of Darkness Episode 1 Review: Ex Ore Infantium

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This THE ALIENIST review contains spoilers.

The Alienist Season 2 Episode 1

Times have certainly changed. I’m not comparing today’s world to that of 1897; the scenes in the premiere of The Alienist: Angel of Darkness featuring police brutalizing innocent protesters highlights that society hasn’t evolved that much. No, I’m talking about the world in which The Alienist’s first “event” season arrived in compared to the TV landscape that the second outing arrives in today. The Alienist’s first good, not quite great, season was dinged for arriving in a crowded pack of shows with similar subject matter or period settings. However, The Alienist: Angel of Darkness appears to be one of the last big cable series to debut before the coronavirus and its effect on television production schedules creates a void in available new content. Instead of being the latest of many, it now feels like one of the last of a few.

Perhaps that feeling made reuniting with Daniel Brühl’s tortured genius Dr. Laszlo Kreizler, Dakota Fanning’s strong-willed Sara Howard, and Luke Evan’s charming John Moore more exciting than the prospect initially sounded. The trio certainly had a unique dynamic and chemistry that propelled the show through some clunky writing, but The Alienist was pitched as a one-and-done series and told a complete story that offered satisfying character arcs for its three leads. Despite there being more of Caleb Carr’s source material to adapt, the announcement of a second season felt unnecessary; we told Kreizler and company’s story and it was time to move on.

Still, reuniting with the three leads — watching Sara lead her own private detective agency, John rubbing elbows with members of high society, and Kreizler brooding his way through a new injustice in a bustling New York — felt satisfying. Perhaps quarantine has made The Alienist’s world feel strangely preferable, even with its own dramas and germs. Maybe the comfortable narrative structure of a whodunit without the complicated inclusion of a cop among the bunch helps on some level too. I’m not saying “Ex Ore Infantium” is without its issues, but at the moment, I’m happy to be back on the case with this trio.

The Alienist: Angel of Darkness scores its easiest points by doubling down on Sara Howard. The character, propelled by Fanning’s performance, was a frequent highlight the first time around, and it appears as if the series is putting her more at the center of things this year. Sara is leading her own agency, and along with her friends, finds herself deeply disturbed by and determined to stop a planned execution. A woman named Martha is receiving the death penalty for supposedly murdering her child, despite there not being any evidence. Sara, John, and Kreizler, who fought on the woman’s behalf at her trial, try to leverage their connection to Teddy Roosevelt (who in real-life was serving as Assistant Security of the Navy and doesn’t appear to be returning as a character) to delay the electrocution, but their efforts aren’t successful. The electrocution is pretty graphic, but it pales in comparison to what comes later.

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Though all three of our main characters pledge to continue to fight for justice, it’s Sara that stumbles on proof that Martha may be innocent and that a child killer may still be at large. A Spanish dignitary and his wife are visiting the city when their child is kidnapped and replaced with a horrific doll. The case is first brought to Sara, as her efforts to clear Martha’s name made her appear as sympathetic to women that are cast aside as being “hysterical.” Sara’s pitch to take on the investigation without the help of the police is excellent; she’s compassionate and full of empathy, yet confident and resolute, making it clear that she’s the only person in New York with the acumen and sensitivity to handle the case.

She also makes it clear that Dr. Kreizler will only be consulted as needed. Though they may have made up in last season’s finale, it’s clear that the incident which involved Kreizler striking Sara still lingers over their relationship. They may be able to work together in a professional setting, but it’s obvious there’s an awkwardness between the pair when they meet one on one. Unfortunately, the scene with Kreizler meeting with Sara in her office is hindered by some over-written dialogue. Usually the actors on The Alienist are so good that they can elevate clunky passages, but when the characters are supposed to be displaying discomfort and awkwardness, it makes the problems with the script more obvious. There’s ungraceful exposition all over this premiere, but perhaps that’s just necessary table-setting.

The other problem with the episode is the gratuitous dead baby shots. A deceased child is found at a toy store in the city, believed to be the missing child that Sara is searching for. Like Perry Mason earlier this summer, The Alienist goes a bit overboard showing us the body. I understand that the series is supposed to be “dark” but it definitely feels like a bit much. However, the discovery of the child finally brings our team from last season back together as a unit, even if Sara is the only person officially on the case. Kreizler starts musing about the meaning of the dolls in the kidnapping, and after her quick education working by his side last season, Sara is more than following along, offering up her own theories. Though the writing feels strained at times, I really enjoy the direction this season seems to be heading in, with Sara taking the lead in a case with the progressive campaign for suffrage serving as a backdrop. I may have cringed at some overly expository lines of dialogue, but I lit up seeing Sara charge through an immaculately staged 1897 New York avenue. The production design is top-notch on The Alienist, making it beautiful to look at even when the script suffers (and as long as there are no dead babies on screen). The Alienist may not have needed to return for a second outing, but I’m glad that it’s here.

The post The Alienist: Angel of Darkness Episode 1 Review: Ex Ore Infantium appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

[troybeecham]

Today, the Church remembers St. Lawrence, deacon and martyr.

Ora pro nobis.

Saint Lawrence or Laurence (Latin: Laurentius, lit. "laurelled"; 31 December AD 225 – 10 August 258 AD) was one of the seven deacons of the city of Rome, Italy, under Pope Sixtus II who were martyred in the persecution of the Christians that the Roman Emperor Valerian ordered in 258 AD.

St. Lawrence is thought to have been born on 31 December AD 225 in Valencia, or less probably, in Huesca, the town from which his parents came in the later region of Aragon that was then part of the Roman province of Hispania Tarraconensis. The martyrs St. Orentius (Modern Spanish: San Orencio) and St Patientia (Modern Spanish: Santa Paciencia) are traditionally held to have been his parents.

He encountered the future Pope Sixtus II, who was of Greek origin and one of the most famous and highly esteemed teachers, in Caesaraugusta (today Zaragoza). Eventually, both left Spain for Rome. When Sixtus became the Pope in 257, he ordained St Lawrence as a deacon, and though Lawrence was still young appointed him first among the seven deacons who served in the patriarchal church. He is therefore called "archdeacon of Rome", a position of great trust that included the care of the treasury and riches of the Church and the distribution of alms to the indigent.

St Cyprian, Bishop of Carthage, notes that Roman authorities had established a norm according to which all Christians who had been denounced must be executed and their goods confiscated by the Imperial treasury. At the beginning of August 258 AD, the Emperor Valerian issued an edict that all bishops, priests, and deacons should immediately be put to death. Pope Sixtus II was captured on 6 August 258, at the cemetery of St Callixtus while celebrating the liturgy and executed forthwith.

After the death of Sixtus, the prefect of Rome demanded that St Lawrence turn over the riches of the Church. St Ambrose is the earliest source for the narrative that St Lawrence asked for three days to gather the wealth. He worked swiftly to distribute as much Church property to the indigent as possible, so as to prevent its being seized by the prefect. On the third day, at the head of a small delegation, he presented himself to the prefect, and when ordered to deliver the treasures of the Church he presented the indigent, the crippled, the blind, and the suffering, and declared that these were the true treasures of the Church. One account records him declaring to the prefect, "The Church is truly rich, far richer than your emperor." This act of defiance led directly to his martyrdom and can be compared to the parallel Roman tale of the jewels of Cornelia.

On 10 August, St. Lawrence, the last of the seven deacons, and therefore, the ranking Church official, suffered a martyr's death. The Prefect was so angry that he had a great gridiron prepared with hot coals beneath it, and had Lawrence placed on it, hence St Lawrence's association with the gridiron. After the martyr had suffered pain for a long time, the legend concludes, he cheerfully declared: "I'm well done on this side. Turn me over!"

Some historians, such as Rev. Patrick J. Healy, opine that the tradition of how St Lawrence was martyred is "not worthy of credence", as the slow lingering death cannot be reconciled "with the express command contained in the edict regarding bishops, priests, and deacons (animadvertantur) which ordinarily meant decapitation." A theory of how the tradition arose is proposed by Pio Franchi de' Cavalieri, who postulates that it was the result of a mistaken transcription, the accidental omission of the letter "p" – "by which the customary and solemn formula for announcing the death of a martyr – passus est ["he suffered," that is, was martyred] – was made to read assus est [he was roasted]." The Liber Pontificalis, which is held to draw from sources independent of the existing traditions and Acta regarding Lawrence, uses passus est concerning him, the same term it uses for Pope Sixtus II, who was martyred by decapitation during the same persecution. However, this modern scholarship is disputed by another scholar, Janice Bennett, whose study of other primary sources indicates that the traditional narratives are substantially correct. No matter the means of his death, he died for defying the Imperial state by refusing to worship any other god but the God of Israel as revealed by Jesus, whose disciple Lawrence was both in word and deed.

Almighty God, you called your deacon Laurence to serve you with deeds of love, and gave him the crown of martyrdom: Grant that we, following his example, may fulfill your commandments by defending and supporting the poor, and by loving you with all our hearts; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.

Amen.

#christianity #discipleship #early church #martyrs #salvation #jesus #father troy beecham #saints

[naanima]

Why I think Guardian had a happy-ish open ending (headcanon)

@seventh-fantasy I think you asked for this. If not, ignore.

I think I’m a handful of individuals who watched the last 2 mins of ‘Guardian’ and went, “Hey, they left us an optimistic open ending,” and then proceeded to write a tonne of fix it fic.

I know the Chinese fans are like:

1) ZYL will spend eternity alive and won’t reincarnate

2) Shen Wei doesn’t have a soul so won’t reincarnate

3) They will never reincarnate together and meet again

4) The last 2 mins was all a dream on ZYL’S part because of how Shen Wei was dressed.

So, OK. 1) They said he would be in pain, but considering no one has actually done what zyl did in living memory (at least 10,000 years) that’s a lot of assumptions they are making. Eternity is a long time, and unless zyl is completely unaware, which we know is NOT the case because the last 2 mins of the show is basically him BEING AWARE, which seem to contradict what Zhao Xin Ci/Zhang Shi was telling him. The fact of the matter is whether it is through bad writing or on purpose the writers set up a a paradigm that is extremely questionable BECAUSE NOBODY IN CANON KNOW WITHOUT A DOUBT WHAT IT MEANS FOR ZYL TO FUEL THE LAMP. It is basically all conjecture and myths.

In addition, they set up Xiao Guo as somebody who partially lit the Lamp, and he is still ALIVE. There is literally NO REASON THAT THE BURDEN COULDN’T BE SHARED. So, once again, Zhang Shi and Zhao Xin Ci doesn’t know everything, and is basically going, “This what I heard.”

So, if canon CAN’T even figure out the rules of using the Lamp then I can’t trust what they say. Internal consistency is important in fictional universe, and they shat on theirs. My take away, zyl probably suffered a huge amount of pain when he became the source of the Lamp, however beyond that WE DON’T KNOW. Because unless somebody was the fuel for the Lamp, AND THEN CAME BACK, HOW DO THEY KNOW WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENS TO THE SOUL. THIS IS A FALLACY RIGHT HERE, GUYS.

And if they writers are set on this idea of eternal torment, then it must mean that whoever became the fuel for the Lamp MUST HAVE RETURNED TO LIVING BECAUSE OTHERWISE HOW DO WE KNOW THE SOUL SUFFERED FOREVER, AND OH YEAH, WHY DID IT STOP BEING LIT IN THE FIRST PLACE. WELL?

See what I did there? LOGIC IT OUT, PEOPLE.

In conclusion, if we stay within the paradigm of the TV fictional universe and rules then it must mean there is a possibility zyl returned to living sometime in the future. The question is when. He could literally be the fuel for over 10,000 years and still step out a week, a year after the show BECAUSE TIME IS ALL MAGICAL IN THE WORMHOLE.

Also, THE COSMOS IS HUGE, NO WAY IN HELL YOU CAN’T HAVE A MILLION TINY BITS OF SOULS FROM A MILLION YEARS ALL LIGHTING THE LAMP. No offence ro zyl but I think that’s probably better.

2) Shen Wei does not have a soul - Chinese fans, I love you, but this is a case of please DON’T mesh book and TV canon verse together. They are two separate entities. The TV verse never at any point mention that Shen Wei or Dixing people does not have souls. Therefore, in the TV universe they do have souls. It is why while I like the new book epilogue it is NOT TV canon for me. This is fine, but it doesn’t work for me.

3) I’m not a fan of reincarnation in the TV show because the TV show does NOT SET IT UP. Therefore, the reincarnation possibility didn’t occur to me. Sorry. It just DOESN’T EXIST IN THE TV VERSE. So, this is invalid.

4) The last 2 mins or so AKA Psychedelic Love Induced Pocket Dimension. OK a) Chinese fans, you can’t say that SW’S outfit is a sign of zyl’s delusions on wanting to see SW again because he is wearing the same outfit as when he first met zyl. Because if you do think this is a delusion on ZYL’S part, then WTF do you think was the last scene BETWEEN Ye Zun and Shen Wei.

So, either both are delusions and didn’t happen, or both are true and it was Shen Wei attempting to say goodbye to his loved ones by dressing up as what they know him as best. For Ye Zun it is the 10,000 years ago get up, for zyl it is the Professor Shen dress up. So, depending on what you think it will influence your interpretation of the ending. BUT YOU CANNOT APPLY ONE SET OF RULES ON ONE SCENARIO AND THEN CHANGE IT IN A SIMILAR SCENARIO WITHIN THE SAME EPISODE.

5) My interpretation; zyl probably felt immense pain by sacrificing his soul to fuel the Lamp. But he is aware of who he is, and eventually learns how to use some of the Lamp’s ability, i.e. accessing the wormhole, which has been established by show as something that is doable by the Hallow. The question is how long did it take him. I honestly don’t know and that’s up to individual interpretation. Once he access the wormhole he is confronted by Shen Wei, the last 2 mins of the show. Once again, unsure how long it has been.

My headcanon for Shen Wei being in the wormhole is 5a) Shen Wei is linked to the Hallow, the show even theories that Shen Wei might have survived 10,000 years because of the Hallow.

5b) WE STILL DON’T KNOW WHAT HE SAW EXACTLY WHEN HE HEALED ZYL’S BLINDNESS. And if it is not written I can headcanon, it is heavily implied that SW executed his plans to take down SW post seeing whatever he saw when using the Hallow. So, if he saw zyl’s end you think he is just gonna LET IT HAPPEN WITHOUT A FUCKING LOOPHOLE?!!!! So, the gaps and holes in the script for me means Shen Wei knew how this was going to play out as soon as he healed zyl’s blindness, and then went about setting up the major steps to get there, and made sure he had access to the wormhole just before his death. There is no time in the wormhole, Shen Wei can wait forever, he is used to it.

5c) Because people, remember that both of them don’t have a physical body presently. They can’t age.

5d) Shen Wei’s little bet; I honestly think Shen Wei didn’t know if he could have made it into the wormhole to see zyl, but once there the sky’s the limit. They are in a wormhole where time does not exist or moves very slowly. They can see how the Hallow were created!!!!! SEE WHAT I DID? USE CANON PARADIGM TO HEADCANON. They can access all of time and space. They can drag out their 2 mins into 10,000 years or more.

5e) So, my headcanon, they stayed for however long they needed to stay in that wormhole to explore and learn. Shen Wei’s ability is learning. They see into the past of how the Hallow were made, figure out a way to gather many bits of souls to not only depend on zyl, and then once they accomplish all this, create bodies and leave the bloody thing. And live happily ever after.

(Look, you can’t tell me that Shen Wei wouldn’t have set things up to try and get zyl out of this whole fiasco alive. Just no. And you can’t tell me it is an unhappy ending when THE TV SHOW’S INCONSISTENCIES LEAD TO A BETTER ANSWER.).

#guardian #cdrama #镇魂 #spoilers #fix it #headcanon #using logic for fiction #镇魂 guardian #guardian spoilers

[apprentice-melphina]

Three’s Company - Chapter 1

If this looks familiar to anyone, I’m reposting to my Arcana sideblog after editing.

AU where Julian and Asra meet the Apprentice at the same time while researching a cure for the plague. NB but AFAB!Apprentice (in later chapters, if relevant). The Apprentice with a capital T+A is can be substituted with whatever name you want.

Summary: The Apprentice is fully aware of Julian’s and Asra’s feelings for them. They simply choose to ignore them in order to complete their work, and out of fear that their choice might hurt the other. But when the choice is taken from them, will Julian and Asra grow closer in their mourning? And what happens when the Apprentice is given a second chance?

Even without magic to transport him back in time, Asra could clearly remember the moment he had met Julian’s apprentice.

He and the doctor had been working at the palace together for only two weeks to find a cure for the plague. While Asra preferred to work alone in his magic, he had to admit that the palace library was an invaluable resource with books from far and wide, each tome heavy with the weight of hope that it would contain the answer to the kingdom’s ever-growing problem. He also made it a point to show his face around the palace every few days to dissuade any fear that he was not as committed as the gaggle of doctors also employed by the kingdom.

It was on such a day that he was flitting about the palace that he saw the new batch of apprentices being ushered in, through the front gates and to the library to immediately begin their work in the dungeons. The doctors had to request more and more apprentices each week to aid in their work as they lost at least one a day, some to weariness, to psychosis, and others to the plague itself.

He saw Julian’s new apprentice then, though he didn’t yet know whose apprenticeship they would be burdened with. Their eyes shown with excitement, taking in the wonders of the palace and the various titles of the library. While standing in line to be marched down to the dungeon, the Apprentice made eye contact with Asra before glancing nervously down at their own hands. Asra stood up from his pile of books as the group followed Valdemar to a bookcase, waiting patiently for the passageway to open. Then they were ushered inside.

The whole time, Julian had not looked up from his scrolls and folios, muttering to himself as he scribbled illegibly at his desk. Asra had to break the silence.

“Who was that?” His voice came out husky and he coughed, hoping Julian wouldn’t notice.

Dr. Devorak’s head popped up, whipping around the room in alarm before turning to Asra when he didn’t find another living soul in the library. He lifted a heavy eyebrow in question.

“A group of people just went down into the dungeon.”

“Oh, yes, probably the new—the new recruits!!” Julian leapt up from his desk, reaching for the red volume on the shelf, the first to open the passage way downstairs. “I forgot they were coming today. I am supposed to meet them down there and fill in my apprentice on my findings so they might help me.”

He turned to Asra with a mischievous smile as he pulled the last book, black and gold, from its position. “I’ve got myself an apprentice now, Asra! You know what they say, two heads are better than one, and all that. Sounds like I might come up with a cure faster than your little—” he waved a hand at Asra’s pile of books—“magic can at this rate.”

Julian disappeared down the steps before Asra could muster up a retort.

The two of them had been called to the palace around the same time to find a cure for the plague ravaging Vesuvia. Specifically, they had been called upon to cure the Count of Vesuvia, Lucio. While they were both strong in their perspective areas of study, the cure for the plague had alluded them, much to the delight of Quaestor Valedmar who handled the majority of the dead bodies on their frequent trips to Lazaret. While their appointments had not been made into a competition by the palace, Asra and Julian had taken it upon themselves to make it such, teasing the other with their own progress and reviling in rumors of the other’s failures. They worked in close proximity; Asra generally made himself at home in a pile of books and pillows on the library floor while Julian spilt his time between the dimly lit dungeons and his desk in the library.

Asra sat back down among his work, shaking his head to rid his mind of the new face that had disappeared into the dungeons. Instead of reviewing his notes as he had planned, his mind drifted until he realized that he had been doodling in the margins of his notebook. An eager face looked back at him, hair half pinned back behind their head, half falling about their shoulders. He had only seen a shadow of a smile as the Apprentice had looked away from him in embarrassment, but Asra took the liberty of imagining that face split in half with a grin, the corners of their eyes pointed upward in a laugh.

A cool body wrapped around his arm, a small head peeking through his sleeves to admire the drawing.

“Pretty,” Faust commented.

Asra let out a silent laugh in agreement before scratching out the face with his pencil. Faust looked back at him, tongue flickering.

“Let’s go home, Faust.” He packed his books, not noticing a red, leather-bound book beneath a pillow that he failed to collect and returned to his shop.

.

“Now that we’ve completed your tour,” Valdemar continued, pressing their fingers into a steeple at their chest, “please, join your appointed doctor to begin working with them immediately. You will direct all further questions to them.”

The group of new apprentices broke apart, muttering to each other as they looked around the room to find their mentor. Julian had missed the introduction of the apprentices and the divvying up, so he stood anxiously around the edge of the crowd, waiting for one of them to walk up to him expectantly.  It didn’t take long for just that to happen and Julian looked down at his apprentice with a welcoming smirk. They had their hand at their cheek as they looked up at him through heavy lashes.

“Doctor… Devorak?” they questioned.

Julian bowed in a flourish. “At your service… um…” He halted, not knowing his new apprentice’s name. They gave it.

“At your service, my dearest Apprentice.” Julian deepened his bow before grabbing the apprentice’s hand in his and bringing this forehead to it. With the working theory that the plague could be passed through contact with someone else’s saliva, this had become the preferred custom of greeting, even if one knew they weren’t infected.

“Now, follow me to my office and I shall give you a bit more information about my expectations of you.”

They followed obediently and immediately Julian felt uncomfortable. It was not in his nature to give orders, but to execute them. He had been opposed to even being assigned an apprentice for this very reason, but Count Lucio and Quaestor Valdemar both had insisted that all doctors have an apprentice so as to work more efficiently.

As they walked in the office, Julian gathered up stray scrolls and books, stuffing them on to the small shelf, suddenly hyperaware of the mess that he usually left when researching. There was no other seat than his own, behind the desk, so he sat, and The Apprentice stood in front of his desk, looking down at him with too many expectations. He looked down at his desk so as to hide a blush, moving papers about with no purpose before he found the words to speak.

“Now, then, my dear! As you know, we are working towards a cure for the plague. You’ve gone through some training before this obviously, but what exactly can you do?”

The apprentice smoothed the front of their robe in thought, avoiding Julian’s gaze before they answered. “I have had some teaching in magic as well as—”

“Magic!” Julian slumped back in his chair with a huff, bringing one hand to his temple to massage it. “Then you’d be better off with that magician than here.”

“The magician… being the one in the library?”

Julian opened one eye from between his splayed fingers to look at his apprentice.

“Yes, that man was Asra, the magician employed by the palace to find some…. other worldly solution to this plague.” Julian sighed, slumping forward again in his chair as he made some notes in the margin of a random slip of paper at his desk. “Is your only experience in magic?”

They looked at him again, a prideful gleam in their eye as they puffed up their chest. “No, sir! I’m only beginner levels at magic but I have also studied in the sciences as well. I know how to prep a surgery, draw blood, care for minor ailments--”

Julian waved a hand and his apprentice cut themselves short. “That’s all and well. I’m sure Valdemar wouldn’t have brought you here if you weren’t of some use. Then why are you here?”

There was silence, punctured only by dull moans from the other side of the thick metal door that separated the doctor and the apprentice from the never-ending doom of the plague. Finally, they found their words.

“I don’t want anyone to suffer anymore.”

Julian’s chin rested in his hand as he looked up at his apprentice from behind his desk. Now, they did not look away. Instead, their shoulders were set back, fists gathered in determination at their side as they looked at Julian.

All of a sudden, Julian threw his head back in a laugh. “Very well! I think we’ll work well together. Though I must warn you, that magician—Asra—can be a pain to work with, so try not to bite his head off. Heavens knows I struggle with the temptation every day.”

The doctor opened up a drawer in his desk, throwing aside papers and notebooks in his grumblings. Finally, he pulled a white beaked mask out of the drawer and handed it to the apprentice across from him. “Here you are! Your own mask.”

They gingerly took the mask from Julian’s hand, holding it up to their own face to compare the size. Julian continued to look through his desk, fumbling through papers and empty vials.

“Er, well, I have your first task for you!”

The apprentice looked at him with wide eyes past the mask.

“It seems as though I have no more herbs with which to stuff your mask. Now, you could go without them and burn out your nose hairs with the smell of the plague and death, but you never know when your nose might come in handy, so, I need you to go to that aforementioned magician and convince him to give us some more.”

“Convince him, sir?”

“If it were me asking, he’d need some convincing, but maybe he’ll be more forthcoming with you. We’re not on the friendliest of terms, you see, so you might want to avoid mentioning that you’re under my tutelage…”

The Apprentice looked quizzically at Dr. Devorak before nodding. What could they do besides accept whatever task the doctor had set upon them? Julian flashed his apprentice another smile before telling him where to find Asra’s shop in case the magician had left his spot in the library.

The door closed heavily behind them and Julian let out an exasperated sigh as he hid his face behind his long fingers. First, he was forced to work alongside the enticing magician and now he was given a just as appealing apprentice to order around.

“What have I gotten myself in to…”

#writing #writingmulti:julian #writingmulti:asra #the arcana #the arcana game #three's company #i'm mostly into muriel but #i really like threesomes #eventual asraapprenticejulian

[thatboomerkid]

The Reverend of Razored Witch-Pyres

The Reverend of Razored Witch-Pyres (a CR 7+ Pathfinder Modern / Urban Fantasy Encounter for Bloodlines & Black Magic)

There are small towns where the Blooded dare not tread.

Little burgs and hamlets, out-of-the-way places like Hobb’s Hollow up in Utah or the quiet city of Rowe over in northwestern Massachusetts. There are thirteen of them in all, and any competent magician of the modern era could probably list at least three off the top of their head: lessons drilled-in by a paranoid mentor during their apprenticeship or else picked-up from idle sessions of rumor, gossip & laughs over drinks with the fellow initiated.

Ask around in any major city and you could probably get a comprehensive list of all thirteen of these infamous scary-spots in a couple of hours. Along with a half-dozen false positives, crackpot theories and bald-faced lies, of course.

These aren’t the sort of towns that you just stumble across, thankfully. Most of ‘em are half-abandoned and far off the beaten path: you’d have to go looking for trouble to wind up there ... or, perhaps, find yourself hopelessly lost following a bad trail of horror about to get a whole lot worse.

Nothing particularly weird can be found-out about these places online, in case you were wondering; the Archons have seen to that, scrubbing the web until it glistens like a raw wound. Feel free to Google them if you don’t mind falling onto a watch-list maintained by the dark heart of the Internet Herself: you’ll find nary a whisper about what happens to those Blooded who set foot in town.

Uncovering the true histories would require access to old & forbidden books, kept by possessive antiquarians in basement vaults under lock & key, salt & spell: held against a purge ordained by the Seven of Secret Names.

These towns? Those of us in the know, we avoid them for fear of the Reverend.

Brought to you absolutely free to play, to test & to share, as always, by the fine folks of my Patreon.

original image from here

Every few years you’ll hear a tale about some brave occultist or another setting up shop in one of these villages: daring the fates, establishing a witch’s circle or a midnight reading-room right there in the shadowy maw of the beast.

Maybe some of these stories are just that: stories. Maybe nobody’s really that stupid. But if you’ve met some of our contemporaries, you know that there’s always someone -- a magus one High Priestess short of a full Tarot deck, if you take my meaning -- dumb enough to try just about any fool errand.

And everything, according to the old legends, seems to go just dandy for a few weeks. Maybe even a few months. On a single occasion, almost a year.

And then one day ... nothing. Not a peep. Every last member of a Bloodline in that town vanishes overnight. Never to be seen or heard-from again.

And life in that quiet little back-country town rolls on, perhaps just a little bit quieter than before. Local police wash out the dead-end alleys; public works officials clear the storm drains. There are bonfires held on the Sabbath, and whispered prayers before bedtime, and everyone pretends they can’t smell the rust on the wind or hear those sharp clicks rattling out of the woods at night.

The Revered walks his appointed rounds slowly ... but he keeps them all the same, with precise & religious care.

NOTE: So, precisely which towns out there exist under the dreadful watch of the Reverend of Razored Witch-Pyres? Well ... that’s been left intentionally vague, allowing for greater flexibility on the part of an individual GM.

Of course, it’s possible that some of these towns are used by cabals loyal to the Archons: a village under the gaze of the Reverend is a safe haven where no servant of the Goetic Spirits might ever dare to meddle or intrude.

They say that in life, long ago, the Reverend of Razored Witch-Pyres -- whatever his name was, it’s been lost to the machinations of our starry masters for many decades -- served the Archons with unparalleled zeal and efficiency: tempering the roaring blaze of his utter hatred with ruthless & icy professionalism.

By the standards of modern psychoanalysis, we would likely term the Reverend a particularly high-functioning sadist & serial killer: he went to elaborate lengths to understand his targets fully before striking, taking great pains to break each of his victims completely -- mind, body and soul -- before performing a uniquely grisly public execution. His life’s work had genuine artistic merit, from a certain point of view, full of profound allegory & subtle poetry.

He worked for the church, and he hunted witches.

At this task, he was without equal; by his deeds, the Veil was maintained & made strong. No one can say precisely how many servants, sycophants & supporters the Goetic Spirits lost to his blades ... but his victims numbered in the dozens if not in the hundreds, and each of his many obscene “performance pieces” surely terrified another dozen or more would-be-arcanists into hiding.

image from here; the Reverend of Razored Witch-Pyres in better days.

In death, the Reverend was rewarded dearly for his strict devotion to the will of the High Seven by no less august a figure than Yasazziel, Grand Archon of Glittering Things and Earthly Delights: he was gifted an Abhorrent Heaven of his very own, a sprawling realm of dark woodlands & villages full of fearful sinners upon which to vent his most grotesque lusts for all eternity.

To this end, his soul was reforged into a new and brutal shape: an Advanced Barbed Devil with the Implacable Stalker template; in this flesh, the Reverend was loaned-out by his mistress to the aid of her sisters on many occasions, rapidly becoming one of the top-tier problem-solvers for the Archons. The Reverend was frequently unleashed to wipe-out entire Lineages that had finally crossed some invisible line or another and drawn the apocalyptic ire of the Masters of Heaven: cities & fortresses alike burned when the Grand Archons took the honorable Reverend out of his toy-box & set him loose in the real world to “make the wicked suffer, as pleases you”.

And then, one day? Something happened. Nobody knows how, precisely, but one group of magicians or another cobbled themselves together a desperate silver bullet, took a long-shot risk ... and it worked. By unknown means -- most-likely an Incantation of incredible power, although nobody’s talking -- the Half-Summoned Creature template (see Bloodlines & Black Magic, pg. 223) was successfully applied to the Reverend.

And it stuck.

He’s slow and confused, these days. Wandering, alone and lost. Can’t tell where he is; can’t get his bearings nor keep his thoughts straight. He wanders between a few familiar cities that remind him of home: stepping casually across the world via greater teleport according to a half-remembered schedule. About once a month, on average -- usually on some high church holiday or the anniversary of an important event in his mortal life -- he’ll experience a full night of clarity.

During these times, he keeps to the code of the Veil: hunting only the Blooded.

He has been killed a few times, since the curse took effect.

It never sticks for long.

Using the Reverend:

If a character’s Threshold increases to an odd number from direct exposure to the presence (or the power) of the Reverend of Razored Witch-Pyres, she may gain one of the following Oddities (roll 1d8):

Your eyes glow like lit cigarettes; this is visible only in the dark. You add produce flame as a 1st level spell to any one spell-list you possess.

You feel heat on the back of your neck and upon your heels whenever you are within 50 feet of a Lawful-aligned non-mundane creature allied to the Archons such as a devil, kyton, angel or inevitable. Note that not all Lawful outsiders are servants of the Archons, and that some Chaotic outsiders are also under their thrall. The range of this ability is halved (to 25 ft.) for mortal Blooded creatures who fit the criteria above, such as Lawful oracles and slayers loyal to the Archons.

You gain an overwhelming scent of brimstone, ash and smoke, and may be freely detected by all opponents within 30 feet purely by sense of smell. If you are upwind, the range increases to 60 feet; if downwind, it drops to 15 feet. Your exact location is not revealed, only your presence within range and the general direction toward you. When you are within 5 feet of any creature, however, that creature automatically pinpoints your location even if otherwise blinded to you. Upon whispering a prayer, your stench is suppressed for a number of minutes equal to your level.

You are always treated as if you had directly witnessed the death of the Reverend and are thus susceptible to his Nightmare Resurrection ability. While he is alive, this ability has no effect ... although you often see him in your dreams, calmly watching you.

You develop a severe allergy to silver. If you touch, are touched by or are otherwise exposed to silver or alchemical silver – such as by taking damage from a silver weapon or because you are wearing or carrying silver items – you immediately suffer a –2 penalty to Dexterity and Charisma for 1d4 hours (no save). Multiple separate events of exposure stack, but none of your ability scores can be reduced to zero in this way. In addition, you must stay at least 5 feet away from silver, holy symbols and holy water; you may not choose to move closer to such an object or substance if it is within 20 ft. You also gain immunity to fire.

You gain full knowledge of either the Celestial language or the Infernal tongue (your choice).

You gain vulnerability to fire. If you ever possess less than half of your maximum hit points, you lose this vulnerability and instead gain fire resistance equal to twice your level. You likewise gain this benefit if at least half your body is covered in blood from another source.

Roll 1d6+1 twice, keeping both results. If you gain the same result for both rolls, re-roll one of the dice.

#pathfinder #modern #Monster #bloodlines and black magic #devil #angel #witch hunter #cr 9

[barry-writes]

All I Had - Part 6

Summary: Savitar kidnaps reader because in the future she was his lover, she was there for him when everyone rejected him. However, she died and now he’s in the present seeking revenge from the team while finding a way to be with her again.

Pairings: Savitar!Barry x reader

Word count: 1464

A/N: Hello guys! Here it is, the penultimate (probably) part. I really hope you like it, please come talk to me about it, I’d love to hear your thoughts! x

Part 1 |  Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 8

Masterlist

After locking up Savitar you wanted to immediately start working on researches and experiments to find a solution for the problem, but everyone insisted that you went home and rested for a while, after all you had just came back from being kidnapped. You resisted but ended up accepting it, only because you felt tired and really needed a shower. Iris accompanied you home and, as you two laid down on your bed, you talked a lot about this weird situation.

"Do you think I'm crazy?", you asked her in almost a whisper.

"No, not really".

"Yeah?", you looked over at her.

"Yeah, I mean, we all do have a tendency to forgive and help people".

"Ugh, that's probably Barry's fault!", you joked.

"I know, right?", she laughed. "But you feel a little more than just sorry for him, don't you? I know he does for you".

"I don't know if it's more than that, but I just...I don't know", you sighed. "When he let his guard down I saw who he really is. It didn't feel scary or awkward, it felt familiar. And then he told me everything that happened to him and I understood all that anger, you know? It came from pain. Am I wrong for wanting to help him?". Iris listened to everything attentively, nodding at you.

"No, you're not wrong, Y/N", she sympathetically smiled. "When he told his story I felt bad for him, too. And it's like you said, some people are not lucky enough to overcome bad situations, especially if they're alone. He needs help".

"And we need to save you, too. Which is more important", you held out your hand to her and she took it.

"It'll be fine", she said. "We'll all be fine".

"Do you really think so?".

"Yeah, I do", she reassured you. "Now sleep a little so we can go back to the lab soon. Those boys could use some of that brain of yours", she tapped her index finger on your forehead, making you chuckle. You slowly started dozing off.

Back at the Star LABS' cortex, Joe was watching Savitar through the security cameras as Barry, Cisco and Wally were over at the whiteboard trying to come up with a plan. A bunch of equations were being written and erased over and over again.

"Are we sure we can even come up with anything?", Wally asked, sighing defeated.

"Yes! There's gotta be something", Barry stated. "We all know better than anyone that nothing is impossible. We just need to think harder".

"We are thinking harder, Barry, but it's leading nowhere!", Cisco groaned. "How's crusty face over there, Joe?".

"Pretty normal. Just sitting, being evil", he responded bitterly.

"You guys, we agreed to help, for Iris and for Y/N. Let's try to be a little more considerate, okay?", Barry said.

"So what? Should we trust him, just like that?", Joe muttered.

"No, not completely. I don't think we can let our guards down just yet, but let's try, c'mon!", Barry said as he took the black marker and made his way back to the board. "Let's go, guys! We can do this".

About four hours had passed and there was nothing solved. The board was full of notes, equations and theories but none of them held an actual answer. The three boys were sitting down staring at it, almost feeling numb.

"My lids are burning", Wally mumbled.

"This is pointless!", Cisco argued.

"We just have to- we have to- ugh!", Barry groaned, holding his head in his hands.

"We're back!", your voice suddenly echoed through the room followed by the sound of your footsteps, making their eyes turn to you and Iris.

"Any progress?", Iris asked and they all shook their heads, making you both sigh.

"I think I might have an idea, though", you said. "It will sound a little crazy and stupid but honestly, what about this doesn't?".

"Please, just say it, we need a light!", Cisco dramatically asked.

"Okay, first", you said walking to the board. "We need to get rid of all of this", you motioned to the mess written in it.

After it was clean you started to explain your theory to them, writing all of your thoughts and analyzing every single thing that could go right or wrong and how exactly everything would tie together and actually work. This took you a couple of hours.

"I told you they needed your brain", Iris smiled proudly at you.

"So, do you guys think this could work?", you asked hopeful.

"Well, it's a plan. We find out if it works out by executing it", Cisco said.

"Then let's get to work, we have no time to waste!", Barry said, leading Cisco out to the laboratory. "Good job, Y/N/N!", he patted your shoulder on his way out and you offered him a smile.

You followed short and revised the whole scheme with them one more time. You took a few blood samples from Barry and then started working on the other stuff with both of the boys.

After a while you decided to leave them to finish the last few processes to go check on Savitar. He sat on the floor with his back to the wall, looking down until he saw the door of the cell opening. He looked up with curious eyes and they lit up when he saw you standing there.

“Y/N!”, he whispered as he moved closer.

“Hey, there”, you smiled, sitting down on the floor across from him, looking at him behind the glass that closed the cell.

“What are you doing here?”, he asked.

“I thought you could use some company. Too bad I can’t hold your hand from here”, you said and it made him smile.

“It would certainly make things easier right now”, he sadly said.

“I know”, you shot him an understanding look. “Are you okay?”.

“Yeah...I guess”, he shrugged. “What about you?”.

“I’m fine”.

“You look good”, he smirked.

“Well, a shower and a change of clothes can do wonders”, you playfully winked and he laughed.

A sudden silence filled the space between the two of you as you stared at each other, not really knowing what to say.

“Y/N”, he spoke up. “I’m sorry”.

“For what exactly?”, you rose an eyebrow. “Kidnapping me and keeping me hostage? Or threatening to kill my friends? Or- ”.

“Okay, okay, I got it!”, he lightly chuckled. “I messed up a lot. I’m sorry for all of it, I really am. I was desperate. I still am, actually”.

“Yeah, I know you are”, you nodded understandingly.

“It’s scary knowing that you don’t have a lot of time left”, he admitted.

“It is, but we came up with something, I think it can work!”, you said excitedly.

“That’s great. I bet you were the one who came up with most of it”, he smirked.

“Well, kind of”, you said with some false modesty.

“Of course”, he tilted up his lips in a smile. “Listen, even if it doesn’t work, I want you to know that- ”.

“Hey! It will work, okay? It will be fine!”.

“I know, I know! But if it doesn’t...”, he took a deep breath. “I want you to know that I won’t do anything. I’ll just go”.

“What?”, you asked surprised. “So, you mean - ”.

“Y/N, when I lost you I lost myself too. You were the only thing I’ve ever had and you were gone forever. I was out of my mind, I was angry, I wanted to make people suffer just like I did”, he spilled as you listened attentively. “When I came back here and saw you again I was desperate to do anything in my power to be with you again, including hurting people”.

“What changed?”, you dared to ask, your voice coming out softly.

“You, as always. You brought me back to my senses, I don’t know how you managed it, but you did. Also sitting in this cell alone for 7 hours really puts things into perspective”, he joked and you half smiled. “The point is, you were right. Iris has nothing to do with this and she doesn’t deserve to die because of me”.

“Savitar...”.

“And if I want to be with you again, this is not the way to do it. I can’t just save myself and then assume you will be with me, I don’t know why I did. Like I said, I was out of my mind, I just wanted to see you again”, he lamented. “I’m really sorry for all this mess”.

“Savitar, I- ”, as you started to speak, Barry came running into the pipeline, interrupting you and catching the attention of both of you.

“Guys, I think it’s ready”, he informed you. “It’s time”.

#barry allen imagine #barry allen x reader #savitar imagine #the flash imagine #the flash x reader #barry allen fanfiction #barry allen fic #all i had #mine

[xtruss]

7 Inventors Killed By Their Inventions

Some Days It’s Just Not Worth Getting Out of Bed... #NationalInventorsDay

— Shea Gunther | MNN | January 18, 2012.

Tragic Rony

The life of an inventor is not an easy one. First you have to come up with a good idea that solves a problem in a way that no one has thought of before, and then you need to design and engineer your idea to take it from theory to reality. The very nature of invention means that inventors are continuously pushing the boundaries of what’s possible. This drive to discover the next Big Thing has been a boon to humanity and has given us inventions like the steam engine, the automobile and the personal computer. It's the major reason why we're still not huddled in caves fighting off wolves and cowering at the crack of thunder.

But invention is a fickle mistress and has proved to be a dangerous undertaking for many a would-be Edison. Things go wrong, inventions break or don't work as the designers intended, and sometimes inventors are killed by the very ideas they brought to life. We've compiled some of the sad but fascinating stories of seven inventors who died at the hand of their inventions. Let their stories serve as lessons for those of us who dream big. (Text: Shea Gunther)

Henry Smolinski

Henry Smolinski was a Northrop-trained engineer who left his job to start Advanced Vehicle Engineers, a company focused on bringing a flying car to market. In 1973, the company built its first two prototypes made by fusing the rear end of a Cessna Skymaster airplane with a Ford Pinto. The tail section was designed to be attached and detached from the car.

Smolinski was set to begin production for the retail market the next year, but on Sept. 11, 1973, he went on a test flight with pilot Harold Blake and was killed, along with Blake, when a wing strut detached from the car. The National Transportation Safety Board ruled that bad welds were responsible for the crash. (And it did involve a Pinto.)

Franz Reichelt

Franz Reichelt was an Austrian-born French inventor who made a living as a tailor but spent his free time working on a flying parachute suit designed to be worn by airplane pilots. Airplanes were a relatively new invention when Reichelt was working on his design, having only been flown for the first time in Kitty Hawk in 1903, and the mechanics of how a pilot would escape a damaged plane were still being worked out. Reichelt's first tests were performed using dummies and were successful enough for him to test the suit himself, which he did by jumping off the lower level of the Eiffel Tower. The 187-foot fall onto frozen ground killed him instantly.

Horace Lawson Hunley

Horace L. Hunley was a lawyer and a member of the Louisiana state legislature who had a thing for submarines. He helped design and build three different models for the Confederacy during the Civil War and was ultimately killed when his third design went under. His first submarine was built in New Orleans and was intentionally sunk when the city fell to the Union in 1862, and his second submarine sunk in Mobile Bay in Alabama. Hunley funded his third submarine himself, and on Oct. 15, 1863, Hunley, along with seven crewmembers, died when the sub that carried his name (depicted in a painting here) sank in the waters off Charleston, South Carolina.

The Confederacy recovered the sunken sub and sent it back out with a new crew who managed to stay alive and also managed a major accomplishment: to sink a ship. It was the first ship to be taken down by a submersible vessel. However, the Hunley disappeared on this first and last successful mission, taking its third crew to the bottom of the sea.

Thomas Midgley, Jr.

Thomas Midgley, Jr. was a highly decorated chemist best known for his work with "no-knock" or leaded gasoline and the greenhouse gas Freon. He suffered from lead poisoning and once poured leaded gasoline all over his hands and sniffed from a flask of it for 60 seconds during a press conference to prove the fuel was safe. One might assume that Migley died of lead poisoning, but he was actually killed by another one of his inventions — the rope and pulley system he built to support his body while he was in bed suffering from polio. He became entangled in the ropes on Nov. 2, 1944, and suffocated.

Marie Curie

Marie Curie was a physicist and chemist best known for her work on radioactivity; however, she also discovered the elements polonium and radium. She was awarded two Nobel Prizes — one in physics which she won jointly with her husband and Henri Becquerel, and another in chemistry — and was the first person to win two Nobel Prizes. She is still one of only four people (along with Linus Pauling, John Bardeen and Frederick Sanger) to accomplish that feat. Curie is responsible for establishing the theory of radioactivity, but unfortunately she unwittingly also discovered the fatal effect radioactivity can have on your health; she died on July 4, 1934, of aplastic anemia caused by radiation exposure.

Perillos of Athens

Of all the inventors on this list, this guy may be the one who most deserved to die at the hand of his own invention. Perillos was a bronze worker who designed a device called the Brazen Bull to be used to painfully execute criminals. The Brazen Bull was a hollow bull. Prisoners were locked inside and roasted to death by a fire underneath. The device was even designed to channel the screams of the burning prisoner out of its nose to sound like a bull. Perillos pitched his invention to Phalaris, a tyrant lord of Acragas in Sicily. After Perillos showed Phalaris the bull, the inventor was put inside and a fire was lit underneath him. History isn't clear about if Perillos was pulled out before dying, only to be thrown off a cliff by Phalaris' men, or if he expired within the bull. Either way, the bull did him in.

Valerian Abakovsky

Valerian Abakovsky was a Russian inventor who died when his invention, the high-speed Aerowagon train engine, derailed on a test run, killing Abakovsky and five others. The Aerowagon had an airplane engine and propeller and was designed to carry Soviet officials to and from Moscow. Abakovsky's invention worked fine on the outgoing leg of the test run but crashed during its return to the capital city. Abakovsky was just 26 years old.