#pillars prompts weekly

[starlightcleric]

I want to finish Baldur's Gate 3 and Rogue Trader, I have barely touched Black Geyser and Gamedec, I have multiple open games of Wrath of the Righteous, one day I should finish Kingmaker, but damn it I'm getting nostalgic for Pillars of Eternity.

#pillars of eternity #computer games #it's a little late tonight for gaming tonight though #and some of it is less the game itself #since I can still pick that up whenever #but missing the fandom like circa 2018/2019 #when we had pillars prompts weekly and watcher wednesday and were riding the high of new content #maybe avowed will breathe new life but I'm not that hopeful for it

[mochatsin]

When MC can Draw (Dateables Version)

Drawing and the arts is one of the things you’re most passionate about. There’s a lot of things, and certain demons, that are out there to give you inspiration to draw. How will the dateables react when they find out you’re a great artist?

Wow my first dateables version of my prompts. Hope i’ve written them all well. This version is requested from my tumblr :0 thanks for reading!

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Diavolo

Diavolo took notice when you saw your eyes lingering among the paintings during your tour around his castle. There were portraits of prominent figures from Devildom, from old kings to spearheads that shaped their history. He explains how there’s one royal painter for every royal king, thus the similar styles in every portrait. Since you’re an exchange student then it’s essential you learn about these demons, and Diavolo is happy to tell their tales for you. 

He was taking a stroll around RAD before going home when he spotted you in the school’s gardens, seemingly preoccupied. He wanted to call on you but he was more curious to see what you were working on. Diavolo watches you closely from a distance, afraid that you might hide from him if you spot him like how the others do.

To his surprise, he saw you working on a portrait of him in a style that’s similar to the ones he’s shown you. The way your eyes lingered on those paintings when he toured you around before, it clicks to him now that you were trying to study the art style itself as well. It’s almost identical, but with your added personal touches to make it unique.

His towering size doesn’t hide him very well when you immediately spot him at the corner of your eye. The pillars don't do justice to how large Diavolo is as a demon. You try to conceal the art you were making, it’s embarrassing when the subject of your art is actually a few feet away from you. But he quickly smiles as he walks over to you. Now that his cover's blown, he definitely wants to see everything up close now.

“I didn’t mean to be rude and spy on you like that. But you don’t need to hide anything! Even from a glance I could tell you’re talented. Would it be alright for me to see what you were working on?” You can’t really turn down such a polite request, but you most certainly can’t turn down the volume of his voice that’s booming with excitement as he flips from one page to another.

When you finish your portrait of Diavolo, expect it to be treated like a national treasure. A beautiful artwork of the young prince made by the human exchange student? It deserves the best frame that Diavolo can get his hands on. Expect Barbatos by your door the next day with high quality art supplies. He’ll treat you like one of the finest royal artists to ever live in Devildom.

Barbatos 

He invited you for some afternoon tea at the castle as thanks for lending him a hand in his duties the other day. Though there were some other matters around the castle that Barbatos needed to attend to, he asked for you to stay put first and help yourself to some of the treats he had prepared beforehand. 

You always admired the intricate designs of the tea set Barbatos always prepared whenever you came over. Since you’re a bit bored, you took out your sketchbook and decided to draw the fancy little tea cups while you wait for Barbatos to come back. 

The tea sets that Barbatos prepares always have beautiful pattern designs that range from dainty floral prints up to sets that look more expensive than the Mammon’s weekly bills due to how much the patterns are embedded in gold. If you look closely, you could probably spot little devils on it and it’s cute in its own way.

Little did you know he’s been actually observing you for a while now. He finished his last minute duties rather quickly since it would be rude to keep a guest waiting and that’s when he spots you keeping yourself busy by drawing, your glance going from the tea set to the paper. He wanted to admire that look you have whenever you concentrate for a little bit.

He lets out a small chuckle which gets your attention, a gentle smile on his face as he approaches you. “You’re quite the talented one, aren’t you?” Barbatos says as he takes a seat next to you, glancing at your sketchpad. “Maybe you can tell me more about your work while we enjoy some tea together?” 

Barbatos wouldn’t push for you to show anything, but he’ll be happy once you do. He’s impressed at how well you can make patterns that range from something simple to ones that have intricate details. He likes how you can make a portrait of the tea sets he’s been preparing, and secretly he grabs his finest sets to see if you’ll be inspired enough to draw it as well the next time you visit. Maybe he can also pull some strings to put your own pattern designs onto an actual tea cup and serve it to you next time. 

Simeon 

Sometimes you go to Purgatory Halls to get away from all the constant nagging and chaos of the demon brothers. It’s nice to find that peace and quiet you needed to do your daily tasks or just laze around since you felt like it.

Simeon lets you stay in his room for today while he tries to focus on writing for his novel. He plans on introducing a new character soon and since he trusts you, he starts talking about the character itself. How they compose themselves, what they’re like, the possible role they’ll play in the story, you get all these details before the chapter is even written.

Once he’s done talking he lets you get back to whatever you were doing while he continues trying to figure out how to write the next few parts. Though he soon hears the sound of scribbling pens and wondered if you were doing some homework? He could’ve sworn you were done with those already.

He turns around and to his astonishment, you were sketching the character he was just discussing with you earlier. Given his detailed accounts of the character, you were able to design it well. It’s an understatement to say Simeon is happy. He is ecstatic. You brought this character to life in just a matter of minutes all for him, and that brings Simeon more ideas on how to proceed with writing. 

“You never told me you actually knew how to draw. Your talent at visualizing is exceptional.” Simeon would listen carefully while you talk about your journey to the arts and how you honed your talents while he looks through your other works. Afterwards, he starts to praise your art like a professional critique, telling you what he loves in each work.

His heart skips a beat whenever he finds your old works that’s dedicated to his novels. Learning that you’re also talented with the pen like he is, just in a different element, makes him feel a little bit closer to you. If you’re not busy, he may ask for your help when it comes to visualizing something he’s having a hard time with. He’ll treat you to something nice as thanks!

Solomon

Being Solomon’s apprentice means that there are times he’ll require you to assist him with his research. There’s a few spells and potions that he wants to work on, though they all require a lot of preparation work. You both agreed on doing a bit of divide and conquer on those tasks so that it won’t be too time consuming to finish. 

You managed to do a lot of chores for him which is quite tiring, though Solomon is grateful for your efforts and he has one last request from you which he said is essential to the potion he’s making. There’s a delicate Devildom flora that Solomon harvested recently, and you have to make sure the flower stays fresh because it can wither very quickly if not taken care of and the potion would fail if that happens. He’ll take it off your hands once he’s done preparing everything else.

Normally, one would’ve kept it in a vase full of water and called it a day. Though you decided to not only put it in a vase, but draw up a summoning circle that would keep it fresh. It’s something that you learned from Solomon’s notes, and the sorcerer is astonished you drew the circle so accurately enough to work on your first try when he came to check up on you. 

“Now how did my little apprentice actually manage that so quickly? That would’ve taken me several tries to get the patterns done.” Solomon says with an amused smirk, staring at the circle in awe. Getting one line wrong would’ve instantly killed the flower but right now, he sees that not only is it very much alive but it looks more vibrant than ever. The magic is more potent, Solomon is sure that any potion he makes with its petals would be very effective.

While he was waiting for the potion to boil over in the cauldron, he decided to learn more about this hidden talent of yours. He makes you draw some summoning circles from one of his books, already starting out on the difficult types to draw. All of it is perfect somehow since you’ve had a history of drawing, so your hand is quite steady and you act like it’s no big deal. Solomon will definitely want to see your works in the future.

“A lot of sorcerers can cast magic, but not everyone has the talent to make summoning circles as quickly and accurately as you do.” That’s big praise coming from humanity’s strongest sorcerer. Though that means he’ll want to exploit that talent and call you over every time he needs it in his experiments, it’s a win for him either way because he gets to spend more time with you. 

Luke 

There’s a new event in Devildom where the angels and you were teamed up to open a stall that’s focused on selling sweets and pastries. Luke appreciates your input when it comes to taste testing his sweets since none of the demon brothers are able to give proper critiques like you can, Simeon tends to be a little too nice to Luke, and Solomon is never allowed near the kitchen. Ever. 

Your company is always welcomed and Luke would gladly add any of the sweets you recommended onto the menu. You always come back to the House of Lamentation with a bag full of samples you both baked that day, which always brings a smile to the brother’s face. 

You come back to Purgatory Hall only to find Luke seemingly having a dilemma. He reassures you that it’s not because of the batch of sweets and pastries since you helped him perfect the menu. It’s the fact he needs to make a logo and design for the stall. If it can’t attract any customers then all the effort you both put into baking this would go to waste. 

You sat down with Luke to brainstorm with him, watching the angel stare blankly at the paper with frustration while you ask him for what ideas he’s already had so far. Luke had to go back to the kitchen to pipe some frosting on the cupcakes, though by the time he came back you were already done with the sketch.

Luke is awed at the design, seeing as how you incorporated both his and your idea for the stall in a way that still blends well together. “Y-you’re incredible! How’d you do that so fast though? You know what, let’s show Simeon first!” If Luke had a tail, it would be wagging from sheer joy. He’d be so excited to get the decorations and paint for the stall that he almost forgot about the cupcakes in the oven. 

By the time the stall is finished and running, Luke would definitely flaunt your talent not just for helping him bake but for also designing the stall. “You like the design? They did that!” He would say with an excited grin on his face before pointing at you. Luke enjoys working with you that you both barely notice the brothers getting jealous over the amount of time the angel gets to spend with their human. 

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me luke

[thatonebirdwrites]

Korrasami Weekly Prompts: Autumn

An Endless Autumn

Asami stood on the cliff that overlooked Yue Bay. The breeze from the ocean buffeted her lone form, scented with brine and the reminder of someone that Asami wondered if she'd see again.

She scuffed her boot into the dirt and knelt to pick up a leaf-adorned rock. Holding up the leaf, she twisted it back and forth. Red veins marked the golden tone of the fibers, and its edges crinkled with decay. She held it into the wind and released it to watch it flutter and soar up toward the clouds above.

Hefting the rock, she threw it as far as she could, and it was soon lost to the waves, the sound of its plunk lost to the beat of the ocean against the cliff.

"You know, you could throw it farther with a bit of airbending."

The familiar voice came from behind her.

Asami was used to it. She'd imagined her voice talking with her dozens of times in the last three years. "You know I'm a nonbender," she said, knowing she probably sounded crazy if anyone was around to witness.

"Well, yeah. I meant I could airbend it farther for you."

Asami sighed. "Sure, if you were here and not just in my head."

"And what makes you think I'm not here?"

Asami huffed. "You haven't been for three years!" She knelt and grabbed a fistful of dirt. The soil crumbled between her long, slender fingers. "And here I am, once again talking to you like you're here. I really am going crazy."

She stood and dribbled the soil over the cliff's edge. Bits of broken leaves fell with the soil toward the surf below.

"I don't think you're crazy. I think you're hurt and grieving."

Asami rolled her eyes. "Talking out loud to a voice in my head is crazy."

"Asami, come on. Just turn around and get down here, dammit."

That was the temptation wasn't it? Asami would come to this ledge weekly at the same day and time. She'd look over the bay toward Air Temple Island, and she'd hold conversations in her head with her, despite knowing it was continuous torture.

The ask to turn around would always happen, and she'd carefully climb down, keeping her back to the trees that hugged the slopes behind her. The ledge, more of a pillar that jutted out away from the mountain's slopes, overlooked the pathway to the mountain's peak, where the voice always seemed to emanate.

If she never looked, she'd never have to face the fact that she was slowly losing her mind.

Maybe she ought to head back, even though she'd barely begun her vigil. Staying here until the sunset was her usual fare, but something about how real the voice sounded today had her unnerved.

"I'm not falling for that," Asami said with a hint of anger. This was her vigil though. She couldn't let the voice tear her from it now. She scowled and sat down on the section of the ledge that faced the bay, her legs over the side. "Every single time you ask me that. And I know where that leads! No. So how about we get back to the usual?"

Her fingers dug into the soil and the fallen leaves that coated the ledge. The stone under it was granite, the hardness scraping against her fingernails.

"The... usual? What do you mean?"

"Playing coy now?" Asami laughed bitterly. "It's the vigil. You're supposed to ask me about my week. Or mock me for my stupidity. Asami Sato, the CEO of Future Industries, the philanthropist, community leader, who is in love with a ghost, desperate for what can never be. Here I am talking as if you're real. Keeping watch in hopes you'd return."

"Asami... I would never mock you. Do you seriously do this every week?"

Asami frowned, the urge to turn around even stronger, especially considering her voice was being strangely obtuse. She leaned back, her hands pressed into the dirt on either side of her, and looked at the clouds above. A hint of grey marked the edges of them, likely a storm brewing, and the cool wind had slowly increased in velocity.

The reds and golds of fallen leaves swirled like mini tornadoes on the breeze above her. An odd juxtaposition of her dark mood and desperate hope.

"I don't know why I like Autumn," Asami said, hoping if she changed the subject, the voice would go back to normal. "It's the season of melancholy. Where the world that was decays into the world that will be once winter ends. I suppose that's been my life, you know? Always trapped in autumn. In the decay of the world that was, but I never make it to winter, never to spring, never to the time of growth, where the world that will be springs forth."

The huff of what sounded almost like a polar bear dog echoed behind her.

"Wow, that's both beautiful and really sad. I guess I never really thought about Autumn like that. We don't really have it in the South, you know?" The crunch of rocks and leaves under boots drifted up from the path below. "So uh, how about you come down and you can tell me more about autumn?"

Asami's imagination was really in overdrive today, wasn't it? Was it because of Jinora's last phone call that they had a lead on where she might be?

Asami sighed. The ledge itself was narrow, barely enough for her to stand and sit, and the climb down to the path below fairly perilous, considering how the pillar jutted out over the surf at an odd angle. Part of the reason she'd chosen this spot was for the thrill of the climb, the fact that no one else could fit up here, and for the solitude it carried.

"Not falling for that either," she said, curtly. "The vigil is till sundown. You know that."

"What? That's it. I'm coming up there!"

Asami frowned. The voice had never threatened that in the past. "There's not enough room," she said.

"Then I'll just earthbend more ledge! Seriously, Asami, do you know how hard it was to find you? I tried calling, tried going to your office, and if it weren't for Jinora's tip, I wouldn't have found this place. So can you please listen and stop pretending I'm some damned voice in your head?"

Asami scrambled to her feet and before she could stop herself, she looked back for the first time in three years. The mountain's slope rose up behind her, the trees thick, but path at the base of the pillar held only footprints.

Of course, there was no one there.

"Dammit, dammit! I broke the rule." Asami grabbed a fistful of dirt and threw it at the path below. "Never look behind, never, ever look behind." She trembled at the sheer force of her grief, how it saturated her from her head to her toes. Tears stung her eyes, and the urge to throw herself off the narrow ledge haunted her yet again.

She'd never do it. Not if there was a sliver of hope of seeing her again, but today, the urge was far stronger than it'd ever been.

Asami dropped to the ground, pulled her legs up against her chest, her face in her knees, and shuddered.

The stone below groaned, the pillar trembled, but then it steadied. Quiet fell around her like the fallen leaves of autumn.

"Hey." The crackle of broken twigs sounded in front of her. "Hey, I really am here." Her words broke into a sob. "Please, Asami, look at me."

Hands grasped Asami's arms and gently pulled them away from her face.

Startled, she lifted her head, only to freeze in shock.

The pillar's narrow top was much wider from the earthbending, and there, kneeling in front of her, was someone Asami had feared she'd never see in person again.

Short chestnut hair was shorn short around her ears, and her skin was a deep brown with copper undertones. Her blue eyes regarded Asami, her mouth pursed in worry. Her clothes weren't blue at all but a green tanktop and pants, her boots the desert variety Asami had seen at Misty Palms Oasis back during the days when she thought maybe the world had hope. That maybe she could have a happy ending.

"No. No, I'm hallucinating..." Asami's shoulders shook. Tears blurred her vision. "You're not real."

Korra's fingers brushed away her tears. "I'm real. I'm just sorry it took me so long. You deserve so much better..." Korra's voice broke into a sob. "But I'm here now, okay? You don't have to do this vigil anymore."

Asami rocked forward and wrapped her arms around Korra for the first time in three years. And her arms collided with a real person. Korra's scent of ocean and soil flooded her nostrils, her body warm, her muscles solid under her soft skin. Sobs ripped through Asami's chest, and she held on tighter, afraid that if she let go, Korra would vanish again.

Korra's arms encircled her. She stroked Asami's hair and pressed her lips to the side of Asami's cheek. "It's okay. I'm here now. And I'm not leaving again, okay?"

The wind blew autumn leaves past their embrace and out toward the ocean. Asami's chest heaved, and she buried her face in Korra's hair. Maybe this year she'd finally escape her endless autumn and step into a new season, one of potential and hope instead of grief and melancholy.

With Korra's arms around her, that hope felt more real than it had ever been in her entire life.

#korrasami #legend of korra #tlok #asami sato #avatar korra #the legend of korra #asami #korra #korra x asami #angst #drabble #no idea where I was going with this #just thought Asami likely would have pretend conversations with Korra in her head #Autumn always feels sad to me anyway #Yes I'm crying are you? #Grief #Not really canon compliant but eh

[rattleroze]

Kinktober Day 9 -- Voyeurism

Terzo goes for a walk and stumbles into something he never anticipated. But he also can't say he's complaining.

I wasn't planning to write for Kinktober this year but here we are I guess. Thanks to @kroas-adtam for compiling the prompts.

Words: 1500 Read on Ao3 or below the cut

Terzo was no stranger to late night walks through the Abbey. Every so often he’d fall victim to bouts of insomnia, a handful of days in a row where he found it impossible to sleep– so instead he’d wander around the grounds, through the dimly-lit halls of the building or around the gardens, taking in the moonlight. There were few people up and about in the wee hours, although that number was never zero, so he’d simply learned to avoid those small hotspots of activity. Time spent alone in the silence, away from obligation, was good for him, he thought.

The chapel was usually a safe bet for these outings– apart from the weekly midnight mass, it was pretty reliably empty after dark. It was always beautiful on clear nights like this, too. Bright moonlight shone through the stained glass and cast a rich blanket of color over the altar and the foremost rows of pews. He strolled around, taking in the architecture and the artful light, basking in the pristine quiet and thinking about very little. Just allowing himself a long moment to relax.

However, as he passed through the aisle once again, he was struck by the distinct sense that he wasn’t alone. He caught sight of a figure sitting alone in one of the front pews out of the corner of his eye and slipped behind one of the large pillars on the other side of the nave, hoping silently that he hadn’t been noticed. After a few moments, he peered around the column until he could see the figure again, and found that it was a shadowy shape that he recognized– it was Omega. His head was tipped back, one arm resting casually on the back of the pew, the other moving in a subtle but unmistakable rhythm in his lap. Terzo sucked in a shocked breath, holding it until he was relatively certain the sound of it hadn’t given him away. Omega seemed remarkably unbothered.

What was he supposed to do? He didn’t want to intrude on what was clearly a private moment– although, indulging in the front of a cathedral seemed like asking for trouble, in his mind. But then again, the idea of leaving seemed like admitting guilt in itself. He seriously doubted his ability to slip away completely undetected, and even if he did, the idea of looking Omega in the eye after catching him rubbing one out in the chapel seemed impossible.

And as the soft sounds of Omega’s pleasure finally reached his ears across the echoey chamber between them, Terzo found there to be a burning in his gut that further held him in place. In fact, it pulled him closer without him even realizing at first. He drifted slowly from the cover of one column to the next, to a position where he could more clearly observe Omega’s movements, and the sight that greeted him had him clamping a hand over his mouth to muffle a low groan.

Omega’s legs were spread wide, pants unbuttoned and shifted just enough to allow his cock to stand out. He pulled at himself slowly, luxuriously, Terzo’s eyes glued to the motion of his hand as he stroked from base to tip. If he focused enough, he could even see a drop well up from his tip every few moments, the pad of his thumb swiping over it to add to the easy slide. Omega sighed in his pleasure, drawing it out into a deep, full-throated groan as he tightened his grip.

Terzo’s mouth hung open as he watched, feeling warmth further bloom between his legs with every passing moment. The panicked voice in his mind that was shouting at him to leave, to not intrude, was only distantly heard. It was a gorgeous sight, the way Omega arched and twitched into his own grip, murmuring softly to himself with words Terzo couldn’t make out at this distance. He suddenly wished he could, that he could be close enough to hear the filth Omega muttered in his most private moments. Close enough to lean in, to whisper some choice words of his own as he watched the flushed tip of Omega’s cock disappear into and reappear from his fist. To hear the slick sounds it made as he dripped more and more, the soft whines and desperate little noises the ghoul made as he brought himself closer and closer to the edge, the hitching of his breath as it came up to meet him—

Terzo was palming at himself before he even knew it. Pressing over the fabric of his pants, rubbing back and forth over the obvious heat of the wetness in his underwear, over the hard nub of his clit as it ached for attention. He was soon forced to bite back pleasured sounds of his own, lost in his own fantasy as he watched Omega work.

“You don’t have to hide, you know. You can join me if you’d like.”

Terzo gasped at the evidence that he’d been found out, the immediate flash of shame shooting through him like ice water dumped over his head. He froze in place, eyes locked on the form of Omega once more, on the slight tip of his head toward him. The subtle glint of the eyes watching him through the darkness.

“I’m sorry,” Terzo said after a long pause, the volume of his own voice surprising him. He stepped out from behind the pillar slightly, to further reveal himself in his depravity. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I’m not–”

“Shh. Come here, Papa.” Omega interrupted. Terzo could barely see his mouth moving, but he could imagine the way his fangs would shine in the moonlight, and the image did not help.

The conflict between his fear and shame at being caught and the insistent arousal in his gut was difficult to parse. His mind was cloudy, and it was difficult to think. “No, I really shouldn’t… I mean–”

“Didn’t I tell you to be quiet?” Omega said flatly, and the tone of it made Terzo shut his mouth so abruptly his teeth clacked together. “I said come over here.”

Terzo shuffled his way out of the shadows and into the brilliant light projecting down from the windows once again, following the order almost numbly as the sludge where his brain used to be struggled to keep up. Omega watched him approach carefully, one hand still pulling at himself, although much slower, more gentle than before. He smiled softly once Terzo was standing before him, but the look in his eyes was unreadable beyond how deeply predatory it was. Terzo swallowed tightly.

“On your knees, lamb,” The ghoul prompted, punctuating the order with a short nod. Terzo’s knees hit the flagstones, instinctively assuming the same posture he routinely took for prayer in this same space. Omega stood from the pew, towering above him, and Terzo gazed up in nothing short of worship, his bicolored eyes wide and glassy. The hand working over Omega’s cock tightened and sped up again, stroking with renewed fervor.

“Such an obedient little thing you are,” Omega mused, voice thick with arousal. Precum dripped from his cock onto the floor between them, and it was all Terzo could do to stop himself from bending down to lap it up. “So pious. A perfect disciple.” Omega continued, his free hand venturing down to cup his balls indulgently. Terzo licked his lips, desperately wishing he could caress them with his tongue instead.

“Open your mouth.” Omega growled. Terzo’s attention was pulled back up to the ghoul’s face, and his mouth dropped wide open, tongue lolling out into the warm air between them.

“That’s it,” The ghoul praised, voice audibly tightening as his climax rapidly approached.

“Are you ready to receive your sacrament?”

Terzo’s eyes snapped open with a gasp, and he stared up at the ceiling above him for a few moments as he tried to catch his breath. Eventually his senses returned to him, and he took stock of his surroundings– the dimly-lit lounge, the rumble of the road beneath it. He was on the tour bus, trundling along through the night to their next destination.

He sighed heavily, head dropping back onto the pillow beneath it. A small shift of his body revealed the state he found himself in– a warm dampness coating the inside of his thighs, soaking through his underwear completely. He was achingly wet.

“Fucking hell,” He swore softly, turning onto his side as he slipped a hand past his waistband, petting through his folds before slick fingertips circled his clit with a moan into the couch cushions. He let his eyes fall shut again, trying his best to reconjure the image of Omega standing above him, cock flushed and heavy in his hand as he teetered on the edge of ecstasy, scant moments away from showing Terzo just how pleasurable devotion could really be.

#ghost bc #ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfic #terzomega #papa emeritus iii #omega ghoul #hierophilia #kinktober 2023

[accio-victuuri]

LOL what the hell is this hot search, and it’s #1 on both main and entertainment. Uhm. Wang Yibo is apparently the Lord and Savior of Chinese Domestic Box Office. If he can’t save “sports” themed movies then no one can. Thank you for your optimistic view of Yibo and his projects. All his starring movies are well made and he will do more that increases the quality of Chinese made films.

THE ARTICLE ITSELF, which prompted the HS is from China News Weekly. To be fair, it’s not blaming Yibo or anything. It actually presented other factors that affects the box office especially with this theme but of course they would use that title to lure people. I’ll quote one part of it that said:

According to industry analysis, the box office of "One and Only" fell short of expectations, and it is not because the creators and actors are "incompetent". The main reason is that sports-themed movies are still "niche", which has even become a "structural problem".

The whole article is below if you wanna read it. It’s a long article but has a good perspective ⬇️

Among all the summer movies, "One and Only" starring Wang Yibo and Huang Bo was generally favored by the industry before its release. Judging from the market feedback after the screening, director Dapeng has made significant progress visible to the naked eye, and the film has won a good reputation, but under the combined effect of internal and external factors, this sports-themed movie failed to get too much cake from the "big market" in the market. The box office was far from expectations, and it still did not escape the "curse" of sports-themed movies. Can't the popular star Wang Yibo save Chinese sports movies?

A group of comedians acted in an inspirational film? "One and Only" is directed by Dapeng, written by Su Biao, produced by Chen Zhixi, starring Wang Yibo and Huang Bo. Although the tone of the announcement is a comedy, it actually tells an "inspirational story" about hip-hop in sports. Director Dapeng believes that street dance is both competitive and entertaining, and it is a novel carrier that can directly participate in narrative and emotional construction. In this film, Chen Shuo (played by Wang Yibo), whose family has suffered a change, still insists on his street dance dream under the heavy pressure of life, and meets Ding Lei (played by Huang Bo), a hip-hop coach and a bole of life. Under multiple obstacles such as withdrawal of capital by the funder and suppression by opponents, the "two male protagonists" work together to lead the team to "pass through the trials and tribulations", achieve mutual success, and finally reach the other side of victory together. Attentive audiences found that "One and Only" is still Dapeng's way of telling stories, portraying characters, and presenting its value to society in the way he is good at. In Dapeng's past works, you can almost find "shadows" similar to the "two male protagonists" in this film: the little people from the bottom of society are all working tirelessly for their favorite careers and ideals, and they always have the belief that "hard work pays off" (The slogan of the film's street dance team "exclamation point")... Film critic Mu Yi commented on the acting skills of the actors: "Specifically speaking, Ding Lei starring Huang Bo is very contagious, and the sadness and helplessness of the little people are moving. Wang Yibo's breakthrough performance is also great, the several scenes between him and Huang Bo are delicate and vivid, especially the scene where he hides behind a pillar and watches his mother sing and weep quietly, which can easily touch the heartstrings of the audience."

With the presentation of the hip-hop competition, Dapeng filled the "flavor of gunpowder" again and was praised by the industry. It is understood that this film brings together many top hip-hop practitioners across the country. During the performance, they "fought and danced" with each other's arrogant expressions, dedicated to the difficult movements of "exploding", coupled with the light and shadow creation of the big stage and the hard-working shouts of the audience, the whole process was full of "exciting" and "cool". . Mu Yi believes that Dapeng's shooting of the hip-hop competition is so "bright and colorful", which is a reflection of his significant improvement in camera language expression and large-scale scene scheduling capabilities. The inspirational story is well told, and the presentation of the big scenes is impressive, but after watching the whole film, the audience's perception of "Enthusiasm" does not seem to be very funny.

Huang Bo, Xiaoshenyang, Yue Yunpeng and other comedians didn't seem to be too "burdened" throughout the whole process, and they didn't contribute many impressive golden sentences. In this regard, Dapeng made an interpretation in the road show. "We have invited a lot of very talented actors for comedy. They all have their own comedy ideas and styles, but they have well balanced this comedy performance in this movie. They not only act in comedy, but also Let everyone see your ability to shape life outside of comedy." In fact, the reason why "One and Only" is more passionate and inspirational, and it doesn't make too much effort to be "funny", it is a "propositional composition", long before it was released. It is not unrelated to obtain "official certification". According to official information, "One and Only" was jointly planned by the Propaganda Department of the Zhejiang Provincial Party Committee and the Hangzhou 2023 Asian Games Organizing Committee, and was exclusively authorized by the Hangzhou Asian Games Organizing Committee. This film is based on the Hangzhou Asian Games to be held in 2023.

In the end, the main creators decided to use the newly added street dance project (the official name of the project is Breakdancing) as the theme for creation. In the film, Dapeng shows the cityscape of Hangzhou in accordance with relevant requirements. In addition to the landmarks and scenery such as the West Lake Long Bridge and the foot of Phoenix Mountain, the final "decisive battle" in the film is arranged in the Hangzhou Olympic Sports Center Gymnasium, which is one of the main venues of the Hangzhou Asian Games. "As an old athlete, watching this movie is very emotional."

During the road show of the film, Li Lingwei, a member of the International Olympic Committee and vice chairman of the Chinese Olympic Committee who was invited to watch the film, spoke highly of the film: "Break dancing is not only It is a new event in the Asian Games, and it is also a project for the Paris Olympic Games next year, so breakdancing will receive a lot of attention; watching "One and Only" will also help young people cultivate their spirit of persevering and working hard for their dreams." 

On July 28, it was officially launched. Before its release, "One and Only" has been shown as the closing film of the Shanghai International Film Festival in June this year. Compared with other works in the summer file, "One and Only" has a sufficient time window, and has the advantage of gaining word-of-mouth in the market in advance. As of press time,Word-of-mouth box office is still not improving. For "One and Only", the film industry is more regretful: it seems to have the right time, place, and people. Word-of-mouth, popularity, and praise have all gathered in advance, but the box office performance is still difficult to meet expectations. "One and Only" seems to have no Escape the "curse" of sports movies. "I thought it would be a hit, but the screenings were not as good as expected, and the follow-up was weak."

A person who has worked on the release of many Wang Baoqiang comedies told China News Weekly, "The reasons are very complicated, related to the subject matter, and also related to the recent fierce market conditions. .”

According to the publisher, before the release of "One and Only", many distributors and film critics were very optimistic. They believed that a box office of 1 billion is a conservative figure, and 2 billion is the impact target. The official endorsement, with Wang Yibo and Huang Bolai starring, is also the reason for the industry's confidence. One of the planners of "One and Only", film critic Nan Rumin published an article on his personal public account "Poisonous Milk Movie" on July 21, predicting that the final box office of "One and Only" will reach 5.8 billion yuan. You know, the final score of "Changjin Lake", which ranked first in the box office of Chinese film history, was 5.775 billion yuan. The aforementioned issuer stated that although Nan Rumin made such a prediction, although there is no lack of exaggeration and "marketing" elements, the goal of "Hot" is to become the "C position" and the biggest blockbuster in this summer, "its ambition is definitely not small." But the reality is still far from the expectation. According to the box office statistics on the first day of the release of "One and Only", the total box office box office of "Dianying" plus pre-sales exceeded 200 million yuan. god".

Looking at the follow-up, "Hot" only earned 487 million yuan at the box office in 5 days of release, and only 776 million in 15 days of release. At present, major platforms have lowered the expected box office of "One and Only", predicting that its total box office will just exceed 1 billion.

What's more unfavorable is that the market environment has become more intense and complicated during the summer vacation. "One and Only" has not had time to try to further break the circle, it has been a bit marginalized. First of all, during the same period, the voices of "Fengshen" in the market began to increase. In addition, "Megalodon 2” starring Wu Jing was released on August 4, and "Desperate" began to be screened on August 5. Encountered the dilemma of "enemies from both sides" and severe damage to the filming space, the box office will inevitably be "divided". Among them, the large-scale pre-screening of "All or Nothing" caused controversy in the industry (15% of the films scheduled for the first day of the screening, and more than 20% of the films scheduled for the next day). A manager of a theater in Beijing told China News Weekly: "This is equivalent to treating the screening as an official release. For the two feature films "One and Only" and "Fengshen", it is indeed a bit 'non-martial arts'." However, another school of opinion believes: "It is the unsatisfactory market performance of several pre-prologue films that gave "All or Nothing" the confidence to "grab money" in advance. This is the so-called "killing you while you are sick." The publisher told China News Weekly, ""All or Nothing" has caught up with the current enthusiasm for events in northern Myanmar, and the schedule is staggered with "The Missing Her". Although the quality of the film is not perfect, it is not bad. The prequel film also has to find its own reasons " It's hard to write pictures because of spirit, hard to make movies because of sportsWhere is the reason for "One and Only" itself?

According to industry analysis, the box office of "One and Only" fell short of expectations, and it is not because the creators and actors are "incompetent". The main reason is that sports-themed movies are still "niche", which has even become a "structural problem". For sports-themed movies, Wang Fangfang, the director who filmed "My Heart Is Flying" based on the Winter Olympics champion Yang Yang, said helplessly: "If you really go to the theater and watch the movie, you will know that it's not how much the director made it. Poor, this is not a simple issue of film distribution." Chen Kexin, director of "Win the Championship", and Deng Chao, who filmed "Chinese Ping Pong", also have a deep understanding. Both works have impressed many audiences with their passionate spirit, and the Douban scores are both 7.1 points, which shows that the audience recognizes them. But when it comes to the box office, it's hard to say... "Win the Championship" ended up with a box office of only 836 million yuan. The total box office of "Chinese Ping Pong" released in February this year was only 100 million yuan. Why do Chinese audiences not buy sports movies? Zhang Bin, founder of Sunyao Sports, told China News Weekly: "The broadcast of sports events on the Internet and TV media is the embarrassing reason for sports movies. Realistic sports movies must come from real sports events, and the sports events themselves may be full of dramatic tension. , but the ending is nothing new for the audience, so sports fans don't buy it. Movie fans generally think that sports movies are too realistic and boring, and they don't want to watch them. What's more, the themes and narratives of Chinese sports movies have always been too single. The taste of chicken soup and preaching is too strong."

In addition, the difficulty of sports movies is that they cannot get out of the circle to empathize. Zhou Chao, chief editor of Sina Sports and a senior boxing reporter, told China News Weekly: "In the United States, boxing movies are the most awarded sports movies in Oscars, such as "Rocky", "Raging Bull" and "Million Dollar Baby". Because boxing It can best express the process of a person's resistance to injustice and self-struggle.

But in China, audiences are not familiar with boxing, and they don't understand many operational behaviors of professional boxing, and it is even more difficult to empathize with such works." On the contrary, movies like Wang Baoqiang's "In the Octagonal Cage" that have nothing to do with sports but are essentially pan-social themes can make people empathize with "truth". ", the protagonist finally won the game, but still has to go to work and return to ordinary people's life. This ending can touch people's hearts." Zhang Bin analyzed, "The reason why "Let's Wrestle! Dad" became a dark horse in 2017 is because of empathy On the one hand, although many ordinary people do not understand the subject matter of boxing, topics such as national honor, personal dreams, family emotions, and even gender equality can arouse the thinking of audiences of all ages and circles. It can be said that everyone has found common ground in it. In this way, if a sports movie wants to win word-of-mouth and box-office success, it is not enough to just tell a passionate, inspirational and moving story.

Only by continuing to dig and find the "empathy point" recognized by the market and the audience, can the "vicious circle" of "not daring to shoot, not wanting to shoot, not doing well, not being popular" can be fundamentally reversed. "If the box office of "One and Only" can finally break through 1 billion as predicted, it may still be far behind the film's own expectations, but it can still break the box office record of Chinese sports movies. I think it still has reference value." Zhang Bin said "If a sports movie wants to be a blockbuster, in addition to interpreting sportsmanship, it also needs to incorporate more types of elements on the basis of localized narratives, such as comedy, action, suspense, love, and social topics. It is easier to achieve results and be recognized by the market.”

#wang yibo #one and only movie

[katenepveu]

Slightly belated Whale Weekly, Chapter 35, "The Mast-Head"!

I love the joke about how statutes on pillars are the modern land-based mast-head standers.

Ishmael refers to the Sleet's crow's-nest. According to the notes in my edition, Sleet is "[a]nother of Melville’s comic names for William Scoresby Jr., in whose Account of the Arctic Regions (1820) the inventor of the crow’s nest is his father. Melville’s compressed parody attributes the father’s invention to the son." So probably Scoresby doesn't actually claim his dad was drinking heavily up there.

Not just "nowadays," narrator!Ishmael:

For nowadays, the whale-fishery furnishes an asylum for many romantic, melancholy, and absent-minded young men, disgusted with the carking cares of earth, and seeking sentiment in tar and blubber.

(Which he knows and admits immediately before! Making his prompt distancing of himself from such romantic young men both funny in the contrast and also maybe a little poignant, because he's not one of them anymore.)

Anyway this chapter slews wildly between comic and poetic, and I won't quote most of it, though it is often very beautiful. I do want to remark on the very ending, though:

In this enchanted mood, thy spirit ebbs away to whence it came; becomes diffused through time and space; like Wickliff’s sprinkled Pantheistic ashes, forming at last a part of every shore the round globe over.

There is no life in thee, now, except that rocking life imparted by a gently rolling ship; by her, borrowed from the sea; by the sea, from the inscrutable tides of God. But while this sleep, this dream is on ye, move your foot or hand an inch; slip your hold at all; and your identity comes back in horror. Over Descartian vortices you hover. And perhaps, at mid-day, in the fairest weather, with one half-throttled shriek you drop through that transparent air into the summer sea, no more to rise for ever. Heed it well, ye Pantheists!

The essay I mentioned in last chapter's post pointed out how much ambivalence about free will Ishmael demonstrates in chapter 1; I think this also ties into the idea of losing yourself that Ishmael talks about here, dissolving your identity (and, necessarily, your volition) into your environment, and the self-destruction (physical and spiritual) you court thereby.

In conclusion: Moby-Dick continues to be a book of All The Things.

#whale weekly #moby-dick #moby dick #chapter 35 #mine-ish

[fanmoose12]

Hi, I've been enjoying your fics (esp the fluffs) in ao3. Thanks for that btw!

Idk if you're currently available to accept some prompts but might as well suggest one;

So I've been having this hc where levi started using his actual surname "ackerman" after he found out from kenny about it. I want to know how will hange (ofcrs) and the others will react to it. Thank you!

Erwin is the one, who finds about it first, by the virtue of being Commander.

It's mostly accidental too, and happens when he reads through one of Levi's weekly reports.

He skips over rather dull- in Levi's unbiased opinion, at least- details in the beginning, goes right to the final conclusion, which as week after week goes by, remains almost unchanged: Mikasa is the best out of bunch, Connie, Sasha and Jean are adequate and make a decent team, Armin and Eren are okay, mostly, but are still better suited to work with Hange.

Erwin takes it all with only quiet hum as his reply, however- however, his eyes widen a fraction, when he sees Levi's signature.

"Not just Levi anymore?" is all he asks, as he regards Levi with a raised eyebrow.

Levi falteres, although the question was more than expected, and his reply to it was already prepared. He puts down the watering can and steps away from Erwin's plant he's been tending to. Looks his Commander in the eyes, as he says, "Old man, he-" a curse slips past his lips, and Levi shakes his head with a sigh. That kind of stuff is still hard to share, even with someone as close to him as Erwin. He makes an effort, though. "Told me about our family, and all that. Could be a load of bullshit, of course, but- it feels kind of nice. To know where you come from."

There, he said it, and with minimum amount of cursing and cringing too. A job good done, if Levi can say so himself.

"Levi Ackerman. It certainly has a ring to it," Erwin says, after a moment of pensive rubbing of his chin. How does he do that, Levi wonders, how does he manage to look as a fucking pillar of wisdom, while he simply touches his face. Must be a talent, or- a special power of the Smith lineage. "Although I must admit," the hand is gone from his chin, and in a blink of eye, gravely serious Commander Erwin transfroms into Erwin, a little piece of shit. His lips turn upwards, as he gives Levi a look that fills his blue eyes up to the brim with mischief. "I always expected you to take a different name. We all did, actually."

What- what can he possibly mean? Levi feels lost, lacking the context to understand a joke. Is it some kind of tradition he doesn't know of? Something he's not privy to because he grew up in the Underground? Or is it just a case of Erwin being Erwin - a barely comprehensible motherfucker?

Maybe, it's a bit of both, Levi decides, but just to be thorough, he asks, "What?"

"Nothing," as expected, Erwin gives him nothing more than a quiet chuckle. "Forget I said anything. You may now go, Captain Ackerman."

Levi wants to flip the bastard off, but- subordination and all that shit must be maintained, so he doesn't. Not, at least, until the door to Erwin's office is closed.

___

The next to discover the news are the kids, damn them all. They swarm Levi like a cloud of flies, surrounding him from all sides.

"So!" It's Sasha, who gets the closest to him. And yells the loudest. "You're, like, Mikasa's brother? Or- or uncle? It's so-"

The expression of disgust he pulls at the mere suggestion of being related to the most annoying (after Yeager, naturally) member of his squad is mirrored almost scarily accurate, by none other than Mikasa.

Perhaps, Levi must admit, there is some truth to Sasha's words. But even if they're related, they're definitely not as close as the girl thinks. Distant cousins, perhaps, but that's all Levi agrees to entertain.

"It's kinda weird," amongst the chatter of others, Levi picks up Jean's voice - it's much quieter, whispered into Connie's ear. "I thought Captain had a last name already. Just kept quiet about it, you know-"

Connie's confused shake of a head confirms that he doesn't, in fact, know. Levi doesn't know too, so he drones out Eren's question to Mikasa, and leans a little closer to Jean and Connie, curious to hear the explanation.

Can it be related to Erwin's previous nonsense?

"You know," Jean continues, after granting his friend with a disapproving glance, "To keep that thing- between him and Hange-san in secret."

"Oh," Connie stretches out, delighted. He giggles, elbowing Jean in the side. "That thing." Just as quickly, though, his enthusiasm dies out. "But if Captain actually has a last name, that means- ugh," the boy hangs his head, shoulders slumping in defeat. Levi is utterly lost, again, the conversation between two friends all but incomprehensible to him. "That means that you were wrong. Damn, we owe Mikasa our lunches now."

Why do they? What has happened? What the fuck is going on?

Levi wants to ask, he feels, knows it even that he needs to know. What was that, what thing between him and Hange? Is it so secret that even he doesn't know?

Does Hange?

He should probably ask her about it. But for now- Levi hurries to turn away from two boys, before they take note of his curiosity. Whatever is going on in his squad (and possibly, whole regiment, "We all did, actually", Erwin had said), he doesn't want to become the topic of yet another gossip.

___

He goes to find Hange as soon as he shakes off his squad, but- it turns out that getting rid of six over-excited teenagers is much easier than finding one, incredibly hard-working scientist.

Hange is not in her office, and when he comes to the training grounds, she's not there either; he visits the research facility, but finds it empty too, except for Moblit, who smiles apologetically and says that, "Hange-san is running some errands. Truthfully, I'm not sure when she'll come back. Or if she'll come back. Maybe, you'll find her at dinner?"

Except, of fucking course, Hange skips that too. Frustrated and not an inch closer to finding an answer to his puzzle, Levi grabs some leftovers from the kitchen and goes to eat in his room.

And that's where - fantastically - he finds Hange.

She sits at his desk, brows furrowed and lips plucked, discontent all but written on her face. It's- it's not an unusual expression on Hange's face, especially after a long day of tiring work, but she rarely comes to him, when she's in that kind of mood, so Levi feels the need to ask. Before he can even open his mouth, though, Hange looks up, her finger immediately shooting upwards, to point accusingly at him.

"So when were you going to tell me about this?"

"This?" Levi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had his fill of the riddles today, and now Hange - instead of helping him solve the previous ones - is adding another one? Unbelievable. "What exactly are you talking about?"

"Your last name! Everyone talks about it, but I didn't even know you had one!"

Oh. So it's this thing, again. Levi is thoroughly done with it.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Hange persists, one hand on her hip. "Are we not friends?"

"Of course, we're friends," he replies, without missing a bit. Early on, Levi has learnt that arguing with Hange about that is absolutely pointless. Besides, it's not in his nature to deny the obvious. "And I did tell you about it, when I spoke of-"

"Kenny the Ripper, yes," Hange nods, "Your uncle who you thought was your father."

"Exactly," he shoots back. "You already know everything."

Hange shakes her head. "No. I still don't know why you decided to take his name. And when you made that decision. I mean, you knew that you two were related, so why didn't you take it-"

"I wasn't sure. And I thought he was my father."

Hange cocks her head to the side, looking exactly like Levi was feeling earlier today, in Erwin's office and with the kids - utterly confused.

"I don't follow," she confesses at last, in a small voice.

Levi exhales, and comes to sit at his bed, motioning for Hange to do the same. Once she is there, and her shoulder brushes against his, he explains, "I thought he was my father, a father who, at first abandoned my mother, then did the same thing to me. I wasn't exactly fond of him, in case you haven't noticed, that's why I didn't take his name. But when I found out that he was my mother's brother, I-"

"Oh," Hange breathes out softly. "It's not his name that you took. It's your..."

"My mom's, yeah."

"Oh," she repeats again, this time even softer, much gentler. "Want a hug?"

Without waiting for his answer, or- more probably- already knowing it and seeing right through his bullshit, Hange embraces him. Her hands wrap around his neck, chin lands on his shoulder, digging into his skin and making her touch feel tangible, real. Levi exhales, puts his arms on her waist, allows himself to relax, get lost in the warm cacoon of Hange's affection. And if he pulls Hange a little closer, if his grip on her seems desperate in any way, she is kind not to mention it and patient enough to continue holding him.

"You know," she begins, and Levi shivers, when he feels her hot breath on his neck, "I know it's a little stupid-"

"You're stupid," he shoots back, smiling, when he hears Hange let out a short chuckle.

"Well yeah, I can get a little stupid, when I'm not busy being a brilliant genius, but I was thinking-"

"Yeah?"

"Before Kenny and all that mess, I was thinking that, maybe, and it was foolish of me, I know-" get to the fucking point, Levi wants to demand, but all that gets out is a frustrated grunt. Hange picks up on it all the same, chuckling heartily, before she continues, "Levi, have some patience. But, yeah, I was thinking that since you don't have a last name, then maybe... well, you could take mine. I mean, you already have a name, so that's not necessary, but-"

Levi drones out the rest of the sentence and the rambling that follows after it. He ignores everything else too - time, the world itself seems to be put on a pause, as he wonders: if that was the others have meant earlier? Can Hange mean what he hopes she does?

"Four-eyes." He can't help it, his voice comes out too raspy, too shaken, when he breaks the embrace, inching away until he can look into her eyes. "Do you-" he doesn't quite know how to formulate his question, what words he must use to make sure that Hange is absolutely on the same page as he is. So he tries again, "I didn't exactly pay attention to it, but in the Underground, when someone asks you to take their name, it usually means that-"

"If they're lucky," Hange chuckles - nervously, with fingers fisted into her shirt so tightly her knuckles turn white. She glances up at him, meets his eyes, then fleetingly moves her gaze away. Levi wonders if the red on her cheeks is the trick of light or his own imagination. "It means that, um, that someone loves you very much. And wants you in their life."

"And..." his heart beats too fast, too loud, he barely hears himself. He takes a moment to clear his throat, then, feeling far more scared than in the moments when he has to face a horde of titans, he asks, "Am I that lucky?"

Hange is smiling, which Levi feels acutely, when she presses her chapped lips to his cheek. "So, so lucky, Levi."

He closes his eyes, scarcely breathes, as he lets the feeling wash over him. He is lucky, he is loved. And-

And he loves back, so, so much.

And that's- oh, Levi realizes, that's what everyone has been going on about. The thing between him and Hange. So secret that everyone knew about it but them. Perhaps- Perhaps, in their duo, Hange is not the only one stupid.

"I already have a name," he says, and wonders if that feeling inside of him, the one that blooms so vividly, threatening to take up all of the space in his lungs, is that fear or elation? Only Hange can answer this question. "But if it doesn't bother that someone-"

"That someone," Hange giggles, presses another kiss to his cheek, seemingly as overwhelmed as Levi feels, "would love you all the same. That is, of course, if you-"

How can he not, when Hange's been there for him since the beginning, when Hange is the smartest, the weirdest, the kindest, the funniest, the the, the best out of all of them. For Levi, at least.

"I do," he says, eyes flicking up to meet Hange's, to let her know that he means it. His palm lands back on her waist, so when he reaches out to Hange, he is steady. He glances at her, to make sure that what he's about to do is okay, and with Hange's permission granted in a form of a nod, he puts his lips on hers.

He means the kiss to be short, chaste, but when Hange tangles her fingers into his hair, when she pulls him closer and closer until he's all but on her lap, he can only melt against her and do his best to follow her lead.

Hange is passionate, impatient, and she kisses him like she means it, like she has been dying to know what his lips taste like. And that feeling- that fear that was almost suffocating him, now disappears, turns into a delight so forceful it leaves him dizzy.

When they separate - inevitably, which makes Levi wonder if there is a way for humans to survive without air, if Hange, his brilliant Hange can figure that out, for the sole purpose of allowing Levi to spend the rest of his life just right there, on his bed and in Hange's lap, their lips touching - Hange grins at him, eyes darkening when she catches a sight of his swollen lips.

"Levi Ackerman," she says, announces it, like they're on some sort of an official meeting, and not in the privacy of his bedroom. Her voice is loud as she speaks, and her tone is cheerful and proud, "and Hange Zoe. Separate, but stronger together."

"Mm," Levi nuzzles into her neck, missing her lips already. "And extremely lucky."

"So lucky," Hange agrees, before she lifts his chin. She craddles his face between her hands, caresses his cheeks, while her forehead presses against his, and this- simple touch, filled with so much love- feels as good as kissing. Even better, somehow. "Who cares about names anyway?"

Certainly not Levi, not while his heart is full of love, and his hands are full of his Hange.

And as they kiss again, he smiles.

#levihan

[oatbrew]

tags you're it

mostly psycho-pass, joseimuke, (j)rpgs, and video games, lit, vibes, and some misc romance-adjacent stuff. maybe writing and some art. 

i don’t tag everything but i will tag content/trigger warnings so drop me a line. i also collect tropes/themes:

#god’s not dead; she’s just very tired. catch-all religion, spirituality, and mythology

#they used to shout my name; now they whisper it. prophets, martyrs, and made heroes

#après moi le déluge. witch grandma à la strega nona and/or neighbor who communes with goats and that old dead guy who lives in your cupboard

#those who do and those who don’t. cyberpunk, machines who dreamed themselves into sentience, (non)binary states

#upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand. decaying empires, beasts slouching towards bethlehem, and crumbling concrete in the backstreets of the city

#tragedy is clean. it’s restful. it’s certain. the ontology of tragedies, loop storytelling, doomed endings, and good old-fashioned classics

#half daughter / half apology. kind of an ‘about me’ tag— mixture of queer-ing, gender-ing with monster theory and being slightly off from that mental illness luv <3

#diaspora blues. soul-weary homesickness when home doesn’t resemble home anymore

#whatever walked there walked alone. ghosts, hauntology, places that are born rather than built

#romance novels are good actually. because they are!!! also featuring romance novels that i’ve recently read

#💌. future love letters for me and you <33333

#growth. revisit and repeat

#provocations. other food for thot

#footnotes. arbitrary to-read list, mostly history or critical theory/activist texts

fandom-specific things:

#secondhand smoke. tsunemori akane and kougami shinya from psycho-pass (this is THE blog essentially)

#hawya. my fic, “here, and where you are”, a shinkane pride and prejudice/regency au

#pp. psycho-pass meta, memes, discussion, etc.

#sims. my long lifespan sims 4 playthrough ft. shinkane and their descendants

#daybreak. zayne (and his variants) and mc (named "aurora chen" in-game) from love and deepspace.

#one single thread of gold. artem wing and rosa/mc (named “elle finch” in-game) from tears of themis

#got your six. shepard and garrus vakarian from the mass effect series because no universe exists where one is without the other

#shepard. my mass effect oc, augustine jane shepard. she’s a pinay earthborn sole survivor with a paragade streak.

#if he is not the word of god. god never spoke. tomas ortega and marcus keane from the exorcist

#please picture me in the weeds. five and viktor from the umbrella academy, and the loving oroborous of the apocalypse that is their family.

#there was the poetry. a dot ham and a dot burr from hamilton. yeah i know

other:

#jm. catch-all liveblogs/notes for all my joseimuke playthroughs

#tme. my book, the moon eaters, which is magical realism set in contemporary los angeles with elements of filipino mythology! really love this novel, hope to write it someday

#for a rainy day., #drafts. prompts, ideas, fic fodder/memes, and works-in-progress

#notes., #fic rec. media reviews, notes, and recs

#weekly reads. my round-up/reviews for what i read the past week

#audio. mostly showtunes, my middle school emo phase, etc. that i downloaded from limewire

#🇵🇭. philippines and filipino diaspora-related art/text

#gif., #edit. non-fic/art related things i’ve made

#reply. answered asks/replies

#pinned.

[182x182cm-blog]

Dr Ron and Mrs Hepplethwaite Try To Save the World - A Rel1ct Playthrough

The Game:

The Players:

Chris and Morgan (who is the 'I' in this post)

~~~

What follows is a duo playthrough of BrewistTableTopGames' horror game, Rel1ct. This game is intended to be played alone but has optional variant rules for playing as a pair, which we used. Our results are probably not typical - but we had a ton of fun!

The game requires a standard deck of playing cards, one D6 for each player, a notebook/pen to respond to prompts, and the Rel1ct PDF. Players draw cards to determine which challenge they encounter from the Rel1ct PDF, roll to see how well their characters do, and use those combined results as a writing prompt to record how their characters reacted and felt.

The Rel1ct PDF suggests writing a few sentences for each prompt. Chris and I wrote freely (sometimes for 10 minutes) until we reached the final stage of the game, the Entity in Section Three. What follows is the internal monologues of two characters who were uniquely unqualified for this particular quest.

I have written and presented our writing in the same order that Chris and I read them aloud to each other.

BEWARE: This playthrough involves spoilers for the writing prompts in Rel1ct. I got a great deal of joy going into this adventure blind - as you'll see, our characters weren't really suited for the task, but I think we generated quite an interesting narrative because of it!

If you're interesting in playing this game, consider running your own playthrough before reading this one.

~~~

The Characters:

Chris is playing a military astrologist named Dr. James Ron Walker Jr.

Morgan is playing a concerned mother and pillar of the local community, Mrs. Viola Hepplethwaite.

~~~

The Hopes and Trepidations

At the start of the game, characters generate 6 hopes/trepidations that will be used during gameplay. We alternated rolling and reading aloud - and quickly realised we were making characters with very different perspectives on life.

Dr. James: I fear there will be no world left for the children.

Mrs. Hepplethwaite: I hope that my best friend, Mrs. Margaret Thursgood, is alright. That glow on the hillside is awfully near her house and we were to play bridge together this coming Friday.

Dr. James: I hope that when my children are older, they will call me. That is, if their mother hasn't poisoned them against me.

Mrs. Hepplethwaite: I hope the village survives. The village fete is next week and I was so looking forward to the apple-dunking stand.

Dr. James: I fear that my hypothesis of universal obliteration is correct.

Mrs. Hepplethwaite: I hope I have time to bake next week. It has been an age since I last cooked cinnamon buns, and I do miss their sweetness.

Dr. James: I hope the mother of my children and her Italian lover drown on one of their ridiculous swingers' cruises.

Mrs. Hepplethwaite: I hope that my advertisment in the paper for a new bicycle gets seen. My current one is so fiddly on the chain.

Dr. James: I fear that all my training as an elite military astrologer will not be enough to save mankind.

Mrs. Hepplethwaite: I hope darling Eustace gets over his fear of frogs. It would be lovely to be able to go for family picnics at the pond again.

Dr. James: I fear the antipsychotics the military doctor prescribed are something far more sinister.

Mrs. Hepplethwaite: I hope this unworldly entity doesn't interfere with the bi-annual town planning meetings. We were so close to getting that new community herb garden last time.

Totals:

Dr. James: 4 trepidations, 2 hopes

Mrs. Hepplethwaite: 6 hopes (she fears nothing, and her personality has sufferd greatly as a result)

~~~

Part One: Setting Out (Characters describe their initial reactions to the forest. Afterwards, I segue immediately into the drawing and resolving of encounters)

Mrs: Hepplethwaite: I am so relieved to have made the formal acquaintence of Dr Ron, whose weekly horoscopes I am always certain to read in the local paper. He breathes quite heavily, though, and as we make our way through this dark and frankly freezing cold forest, I am worried something may hear us. They say a comet has landed on the hillside. If darling Eustace is to have a chance at attending Eton this fall, I must do something about this unearthly invader.

Dr. James: I feel that the forest was designed for men. I think Mrs. Hepplethwaite is uniquely unsuited for this environment, and I do not know why she has come. I do not see the forest; I see only the potential for ambush.

I smell Mrs. Hepplethwaite. It stirs no reaction, but it is distinct.

[8 Clubs]

Mrs. Hepplethwaite: That awful breathing wasn't Dr. Ron after all - it was a rash of dreadful lesions! They burst forth across our skins so swifly, so silently, that we made some progress through the forest before I realised the single set of straining lungs had turned into a chorus!

How awful! Seeing my own skin turn against me, feeling my own pores pant and pull at the humid vapours of this terrible night, I realised things would never again be the same. It matters not if this terrible foe from the stars interferes with the town planning meeting. Even if we survive and get a new community herb garden and everything else we've ever dreamt of, I know there are forced from beyond the known universe that can turn one's very skin against one's self.

(Mrs. Hepplethwaite loses 1 Hope)

Dr. James: The sense of breathing pustules is strange. At first I believed it to be a side effect of the medication that strange military doctor gave me. To take my mind off the discomfort, I thought of the day I would once again see John and Peace. It did not take much analysis to realise perhaps the distance between us, whilst stripping me of my purpose as a man, might be best for them. It would be a shame for them to see me so disfigured by alien forces.

(Dr. James loses 1 Hope)

[6 Hearts]

Mrs. Hepplethwaite: We have definitely travelled through this part of the wood before. Dr. Ron ripped his jacket on the bushes and - look there, just ahead of us! The very same scrap of paisley wool pulled from his rather odd-looking attire.

I myself am certain that is the stone I broke my sensible but elevated heeled shoes upon not ten minutes prior. If there were more light, or if I was less tired, I would look for it.

The answer quickly came to me - break the time cyle by forcing new events to occur. I requested that Dr. Ron tell my horoscope, as the incursion of the terrible space entity prevented the Sunday paper - and his esteemed horoscope - from being published this week.

Upon hearing my request, which had not been made during our previous trek through this portion of time, Dr. Ron made the most incredible noise in the back of his throat. He said we didn't have time to marvel over the intricacies of Scorpio with Mars ascending just now. I agreed there was wisdom in this observation and - time loop defeated - we carried on.

Dr. James: Is this deja vu? Am I stuck in a time loop? Or has this insane woman been waxing on like a haunted Scrabble set for a hundred years?

The sun and stars spin as the universe expands, grinding to a stop as the rotation of the Earth slows to a halt. She natters on still. Is she talked to me? The stars are so far away and their lights are dying now. Does she think I am actually listening, or does she know I am trying to tune her out?

All time has run out. If she has a fall, I will leave her.

Oh, that strange time issue seems to have passed. I will try not to think about the aeons that passed, unless the effect returns.

[King Diamonds]

Dr. James: What is man? I am a shell, a husk capable of knowing it is empty and nothing more. But.. but wait! If I am empty, where is the red coming from?

The stars feel like home as I lie on this alien world, surrounded by forgotten trees, the choes of self and Mrs. bloody Hepplethwaite.

There.

A shred of what was, an angry woman fully dressed on a nudist beach. I know she is mad at me but I know not what 'me' is. I hope she is happier now than she was in that moment.

I must have hit my head when I fell. I think I'll be OK in a bit.

(Dr. James loses 1 Hope)

Mrs. Hepplethwaite: We were aiding on another up a steep portion of the forest floor, which we could not find a way around, when it happened. Dr. Ron was above me, hand extended, backlit by an unearthly glod that poured down from the accursed hilltop - and I realised I could not remember the face of my darling Eustace.

The realisation was so complete and upon me so entirely that I gasped aloud, released Dr. Ron's hand, and fell to the ground with my arms clasped about my head. It mattered not that twigs tore my bodice and stones ripped through my skirts - the foul entity atop the hill had stolen the face of my son!

Well, I don't mind saying that I wept. I wept, and the tears looked red in the celestial flow pouring from the night sky, but still I wept.

I remained quite inconsolable until my gaze happened upon a little frog clinging to the trunk of a nearby tree. It seemed to look at me, black eyes large and glassy, resplendant with the incandescent fogs sweeping down from the skies. In a moment, I remembered our family picnics at the pond, and how poor Eustance has always been so scared of the very creature staring back at me now.

In a moment, my son's face returned to me, bursting through my mind like a sparkler: narrow, handsome, slicked back hair and starched collar. Oh, Eustace. I will defeat this entity. I will ensure you attend Eton this fall. Perhaps we will even picnic at the pond again.

Stranger things have happened.

[5 Clubs]

Mrs. Hepplethwaite: We had been walking together, heads down, eyes dark, for so long without speaking that when the droning stared up, I thought it was Dr. Ron humming to himself. I joined in, hoping to rouse our spirits, but the hum grew louder and louder.

I was just beginning to realise the noise was not emanating from the esteemed doctor at all when a thousand tiny objects pelted at us from above.

They darted from the trees, fromt he bushes, from the stars themselves - tiny insects! I screamed, terrible sound ripping through the hillside, but stopped myself when the awful things began flying into my mouth!

When the pain started, I realised they were digging into my flesh. Burrowing down, lodging themselves under my flesh.

I screamed and screamed. I furrowed my own face with my fingernails, the pain was so great. I screamed so long and so hard that I don't think my vocal cords will ever work right again. Forevermore, I will only ever taste my own blood weeping from wounds inside my cheeks and tongue, and the hard bodies of alien bugs crushed against my gnashing teeth...

(Mrs. Hepplethwaiate loses 1 Hope)

Dr. James: Call me old-fashioned, but I hate to see a woman crying blood. There's just something about it.

After we had recovered, we climbed on. It was dusk when the constant out-loud novelisation of our journey by one Mrs. Hepplethwaite attracted a swarm of iridescent bugs.

Whilst clearly otherwordly, the little fuckers seemed to prefer the taste of a woman. I don't blame them. Having tried both in a black market delicatessen during my third tour of combat, I can confirm categorically that the fairer sex are indee-

My she's really struggling with those bugs.

[Queen Clubs]

Dr. James: Before my civilised forebrain had begun to comprehend the creature that burst from the underbrush, my highly toned, military hindbrain had asessed the situation. Dropping to one knee and drawing my revolver from my ankle holster, I put 6 rounds into the crooked remnant of a deer.

One hit it between the eyes.

Another also between the eyes.

The third was an inch off target, which I corrected for by putting Bullets Four and Five squarely between the eyes.

As the sixth shot hit the beast between the eyes, I had only one thought: 'Why is it so dry?' Stretched thin and bleached by the sun, the skin of the deer appeared to be a suit worn by something else entirely, to which it was hopelessly ill-fitting.

Whilst the monster's momentum carried it to my feet, I did not know fear until I saw its component parts shatter and skitter up a nearby tree. Looking down at the weapon in my hand, I saw the first had beome rusted, the second old and leathered.

I dropped the gun and put my hand in my pocket. Best not to let Mrs. Hepplethwaite worry.

Mrs. Hepplethwaite: The bugs quite took it out of me, so when some kind of four-legged monstrocity thundered out of the brush toward us, I positively threw myself upwards and outwards, away from harm's reach.

Oh, Eustace, I am so glad you weren't there to see me climb that tree. The speed, the grace - you would have thought I spent all my spare moments leaping arboreal distances like some kind of Tarzan.

From my position atop a sturdy limb, I could just make out the events occuring below. Some kind of stag had charged us, though the poor creature had been rendered horribly twisted by the influence of the entity. Its mouth and jaws were all wrong.

Oh Eustace, no hunter would ever have sought this prize, nor mounted its head upon the wall!

I must say, Dr. Ron demonstrated the most peculiar - andyet effective - methods of dealing with this monstrous stag. He was all pinwheeling arms and kicking legs, knees and feet achieving heights that nearly rivalled that of the animal.

I know not how he dispatched the terrible creature, only that we survived. I shudder to think what may await us at the summit of this hill.

~~~

The Top of the Hill (character describe their emotions as they approach the Entity, then the Entity itself)

Mrs. Hepplethwaite: The village was right: whatever this creature is, it arrived on a comet. The entire top of the hillside had been cleaved away. We arrived at last, not at a summit but in a cratered valley.

It is difficult to find words to describe the unearhtly entity that crouched there upon its rocky perch. There were tentacles, surely, and a beak that remsembled that of a squid's, but also I seemed to discern through gusts of terrible smoke the beady eyes of a frog and also feathers of a sort.

Truth be told, I was not certain how far I could trust what I was seeing. The pain of the burrowing insects was still very much with me, as was the horror of that moment in which I could not remember the face of my son. However awful these sensations, it seemed to me that something else settled over our little party as Dr. Ron and I created a burning ridge and descended toward the Being From The Stars: some foul influence that crowded my mind with evil chittering, that brushed against the inside of my skull and left slimy terror in its wake.

Dr. James: The crest of the hill brought with it a view of the sun, vast and indomitable: a sphere that filled the sky, its surface breathing boils that erupted into solar flares which, in turn, scattered iridescent swarms of light.

Its heat, drying these old soldier's eyes to pinholes.

I miss my gun, though I knew any bullet would take too long to reach this celestial monstrosity.

Solaris. Man's oldest foe.

[10 Spades]

Mrs. Hepplethwaite: The creature opened its terrible beak and - seeming to peer directly into my soul as it id so - belched. The fumes were acidic and unbearably hot, as if spewed from the depths of Hell itself. As I coughed and hacked, feeling I must go blind or die, an odd thought occurred: I would never play bridge with my good friend Margaret again, for as a resident of this very hillside, she is surel dead.

(Mrs. Hepplethwaite loses 1 Hope)

Dr. James: Colours broke upon me like a prism. In the crater below us, an unspeakable mess croaked in alien mockery. I no longer fear the antipsychotic medications prescribed to me are no longer worked. I have never been saner.

(Dr. James loses 1 Trepidation)

[King Spades]

Dr. James: A second nebulonic ejaculation of energies, this time a projected wave that missed me completely. Unfortunately, it hit Mrs. Hepplethwaite.

(Dr. James loses 1 Trepidation)

Mrs. Hepplethwaite: The colours! The colours! The colours within the eyes of this foul demon! No wonder Eustace fears the frog so - they are terrible to behold!

(Mrs. Hepplethwaite loses 1 Hope)

[8 Spades]

Mrs. Hepplethwaite: The gnawing of insects was nothing compared to the humming of this Being From The Stars. My flesh seemed to shiver, as if it were all of a piece, and then runnel and drip from my bones. Oh Eustace! Oh Eton!

(Mrs. Hepplethwaite loses 1 Hope)

Dr. James: Pulsating like the heart of a neutron star, humanity's amphibian foe retched and groaned, vomiting out microwaves that I'm sure - had I not been trained by the British army and the Stargazer's Society - would have affected me in the same way they appeared to affect Mrs. Hepplethwaite. That old girl sure can take a hammering.

[7 Spades]

Mrs. Hepplethwaite: The shriek that emanated from the Alien Being rivalled my own in the forest, when th bugs burrowed beneath my skin. I am certain one of my eardrums burst, for I could feel blood running down the side of my neck.

Dr. James: The thought occurs to me now, in this my final hour (and Mrs. Hepplethwaite's final minute), that, in strange irony, my theory of universal obliteration was correct.

At that thougt, the beast screamed. Perhaps I had unwittingly projected my own waves, but not waves of aggression - waves of positive energies!

By God, if it turns out Sandra's hippy bullshit was right...

(Dr. James loses 1 Tredpidaton)

[9 Spades]

Mrs. Hepplethwaite: In the moments after its scream, silence poured forth: a silence more awful than everything that had gone before. Then the air was full of sound and movement - more insects!

They poured out of the Alien Being with disgusting, deadly grace. Not wanting to submit myself to these creatures again, I threw myself to the ground and covered myself with all the ash and burnt detritus I could manage. Oh, how glad I was that only poor Dr. Ron was there to see me in my fallen state - but the desperate act appeared to work.

Some part of myself (smell, perhaps? though I had sprinkled myself liberally with Eau de la Ode before leaving the house on this awful quest, and could not possibly have smelled) had been disguised. The awful young of the Being From Space, left me in peace.

Dr. James: Centering myself, using the breathing technique Sandra's unqualified life coach tried to teach me, I took a deep breath. Opening my eye a moment later, I saw before me the pawn of a billion hungry geometries spiralling for domination of my world. My children's world.

'For Peace!' I yellowed, the sheer force of my vibe stripping the anomaly's young from their many polyhedral bones.

'For John!' I screamed, floating four inches off the floor.

(Dr. James loses 1 Trepidation)

[5 Spades]

Mrs. Hepplethwaite: The creature, perhaps incensed by the thwarting of its foul brood, raised its tentacles. I shivered backwards but - too late - the Being let all its protrusions drop at the same time.

The shockwave swept through my bones, through my poor melted flesh. A haze of red drifted over my vision and, turning to Dr. Ron, I could see in his visage what must be occurring upon my own: white eyes turned red, blood flowing freely.

Dr. James: Countering my power with its own, the creature struck me down. What harmful thoughts must it have conjured to strike at me with such force, such negativity?

My eyes, my eyes, the balls of my eyes are exploded. It is much harder now to hold on to those happy thoughts.

[2 Spades]

Mrs. Hepplethwaite: Why did we come here? Something about Eton, about my son. Why, it is only a jelly, a squealing space jelly, and yet it will surely be the end of us all.

Dr. James: What do you even do in this situation? I'd like to go home, but without my eyes, how will I find the way?

[4 Spades]

Dr. James: Still blind, an unearthly noise fills the air. Am I to smell my way home?

Shit. Why am I looking for my eyes? Remember your training, soldier. They trained you for this.

Mrs. Hepplethwaite: Luckily, I was deafened in one ear or else the music the Space Being wrought using the winds would surely have driven me mad. Its tentacles pluck at the air, and oh how its beak snaps...

[3 Spades]

Dr. James: One last happy thought. Something to peel back the abyss. The happiest day of my life.

The birth of my son.

Sandra wanted to call him 'Peace', but I convinced her we could call the next one 'Peace'. I did not want a second child, nor did I want her to rion it like she ruined everything else.

The negativity was exactly the window my foe needed. I know not by what means I was made dead, only this: If Pedro's death is hald this bad, there may yet be a God.

(Dr. James loses a Hope when he has no more. He dies.)

Mrs. Hepplethwaite: Dr. Ron has fallen. I don't know why he doesn't get up. The... thing was looking at him before he fell. Now it is turning toward me, and I dare not meet its froggy gaze.

THE END

[maggot-monger]

weekly prompt response: fear/panic

“It is time,” Michael pronounces, and then is gone.

The hours between his going and the moment when he and Lucifer will meet pass as any others have passed. Heaven cannot cease its work because the end is so near. Not once has Raphael set aside duty simply because something more interesting was happening elsewhere, and neither do they now. The seconds trickle by. The aftermath of their brothers’ final meeting is likely to be hard, but, as with everything else that has ever happened, eventually, that hardship too will pass.

Some angels are afraid. Many, in point of fact — perhaps all those who have learned to feel fear. They have seen their comrades in arms dying in droves these last years, the changes brought on by the cataclysmic shift that was the breaking of the first seal sit heavy with them. So many were taken off guard that, if they are not frightened, they are still recovering from their surprise. Raphael is humbled by their perseverance through it all, and thankful to have been here with them in this time of great unrest before their ultimate reward. 

But unlike them, Raphael has not been surprised, nor have they been afraid. A pillar of stability for the rest of them, because Raphael has always known what was coming. What is coming. 

The seconds trickle by. And, at last, they run out. 

Raphael knows when Michael and Lucifer have found each other among the resting dead, but does not watch. For all the fear Raphael has not felt since the two last met, though, Raphael’s grace shocks with a fleeting second’s frozen panic when the players are in place: they will bring chaos, they will bring destruction, it will be terrible — and all of that Raphael will withstand. But what if, after that, nothing changes? What if they must carry on like this forever? What if there never is paradise? What if this never ends?

The second passes. Lucifer speaks. And as always, Raphael carries on.

#spn #raphael #fanfiction #mine

[justanotherghostwriter]

I posted 186 times in 2022

28 posts created (15%)

158 posts reblogged (85%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@zkbigbang

@lizanthium

@marijayne-writing

@x-rainflame-x

@derinthescarletpescatarian

I tagged 185 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#fanart - 41 posts

#zutara - 34 posts

#zk big bang 2022 - 17 posts

#flagging for later - 15 posts

#animorphs - 15 posts

#fullmetal alchemist - 15 posts

#avatar the last airbender - 10 posts

#ghostfic - 9 posts

#about me - 9 posts

#lizanthium's art - 9 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#he was just - as cassie says - the pillar. the one who took everybody's views and personalities and strengths and weaknesses and sorted out

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Chapters: 1/7 Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Lu Ten/Yue (Mentioned), Katara & Sokka (Avatar), Hakoda & Katara (Avatar), Druk & Zuko (Avatar), Lu Ten & Zuko, Toph Beifong & Zuko, Toph Beifong & Katara Characters: Zuko (Avatar), Katara (Avatar), Druk (Avatar), Toph Beifong, Agni Kai Triad (Avatar), Iroh (Avatar), Lu Ten, Yue (Avatar), Hakoda (Avatar), Sokka (Avatar), Suki (Avatar) Additional Tags: Zutara Week 2022 (Avatar), Zutara Week, Round Robin, Modern AU with Bending, MeetCute, Identity Reveal, Slight Mentions of Gang politics, The Order of the White Lotus (Avatar), Hurt Zuko (Avatar) Summary:

While taking a shortcut through a park near the old Lower Ring of Ba Sing Se, Katara runs into an interesting dog and the dog's interesting owner. For the next few days, they share a morning walk and surprisingly deep secrets with one another. Katara is a little disappointed when her new friend stops showing one morning, until she finds the dog, alone and lost, and is pulled into danger she never anticipated. Also unexpected is how she appears to be falling for somebody who should be a sworn enemy.

I'm very excited to introduce this project to you. This year, for @zutaraweek, I decided to try a Round Robin with any writers who were keen. We each picked at least one of the weekly prompts and, like an impromptu acting class, followed on the story from where the previous writer left off. It's been amazing getting to know the other writers and seeing how their unique perspectives, skills and passions mold and shape the story. @ekwolfwriter-blog, @the-badger-mole, @marijayne-writing, @ryu-slayer: thank you all for trying this out with me!

It's my privilege to kick us off with day one. Please stay tuned for the rest as the week progresses!

17 notes - Posted September 19, 2022

#4

NORTH STARS: PART II

PART I IS HERE

It’s one of the best days of the year! Today is @lizanthium 's birthday, which means that today is the reason we all get blessed by her presence, her art, her brain and her existence in general. Happy birthday, my dear twin. I offer you the ending of a story I’ve given you a beginning to, so that you can infer all the middle bits with no effort on my part. ;P In all seriousness: you sparkle so well, and it’s always a privilege to have some of your light in my life in whatever form it comes in. Here is to many more years blessed with growth and quiet moments and creativity and good family and friends. 

Without a word, Katara padded to her brother’s side and sat beside him on the edge of the ice walkway. Even through her parka, the ice was chilly, but she made herself ignore the sensation in order to sit very still and watch the horizon. Sokka sighed beside her, and Katara watched from the corner of her eye as he turned a very misshapen carving of an otter seal over and over in his gloved fingers. 

“Are you going to do it?” she asked, after a moment, still innocently studying the horizon like her heart wasn’t in her throat at the possibilities of what that evening could bring. Both potential outcomes made her on edge, but the emotions behind the quickened pulse were as different as the way the river could twist. 

“I don’t know,” Sokka all but whispered, glum. “I don’t… Our tribe is counting on me. Dad and Bato are counting on me.” He glanced around a little theatrically. “Aang being able to stay hidden for a while longer and just… goof off and be a kid… The very tentative end to a hundred years of war… I could screw that all up by stopping that wedding. For a woman I’ve known for only three months. Three months, Katara.” 

There were a hundred things Katara wanted to say to him, but some of them were tainted with frustration and hurt, and Katara was learning to keep those inside until their blades were dulled a little bit. Not every battle had to be fought with blood and wounds. A lesson that still sometimes tasted bitter. But, with hands that were learning how to heal people with the gift that thrummed like blood and breath inside of her, Katara clasped Sokka’s hand. And squeezed. He squeezed back, and she remembered that he was only sixteen, and she dropped her head onto his shoulder. 

For a long moment, they were both quiet. Katara’s thoughts were on the Fire Nation ships that had come into the Northern waters that morning, and the handful of people clad in red who had been allowed to descend the gangplanks into the Northern Water Tribe. And her thoughts were on her father and Bato and the other select men and women from the South who had arrived the day before. And then she thought to Chief Arnook, and the Northern Tribe’s council of Elders, and all the arguments that could be made of all they’d done wrong and right during the war and during this situation. Would they be ruining hard-earned peace between the Water Tribes and the world, and the beginning of better relations between Water Tribes with their plan? Possibly. Was said plan only going to fulfil the selfish whims of four teenagers? Also possible. 

But just as possible was finding the long-lost Avatar in an iceberg three months after a hundred years of war had ended because there was suddenly the desperate, hopeful chance she could learn Waterbending, and she’d already been eagerly practising. Just as possible was the fact that Yue was right, and the Spirits had organised things to happen this way, and some things were just destiny, and the adults just had to… be helped to see it. Or, if she couldn’t get her head around being that important to the Spirits, then she could at least hope for the fact that they were unimportant enough for destiny to still flow around them, even if they altered the course just slightly. Just slightly enough for four unimportant teenagers to be a little bit selfish. 

“Are you going to do something even if I don’t?” Sokka asked her, and Katara smiled, fondly, at how well her brother knew her. 

“Yes,” she told him, only a tiny bit unsure of her answer even though she and Zuko had taken a large chunk of the three months they’d known each other to even become friends. Her heart was just… sure.  “I really think it’s worth it to try.” 

Sokka laughed, not unkindly, and pulled away from her a little, making Katara have to lift her head. Once she was sitting upright, Sokka pulled off his glove, jabbed his thumb to his chest and then painted an invisible mark on her forehead. She knew he was painting the Mark of the Brave, even though she hadn’t been through her ice dodging ceremony just yet. She rolled her eyes at him, but there was fondness in her for the brother who was braver than he thought he was, and was probably about to find that all out for himself. 

“Give your hand here,” she instructed instead of turning things as sappy as she wanted to, and she began to heal all the little cuts the carving knife had left on him. 

***

There was no good moment to interrupt a marriage ceremony, Katara learned that day. But Sokka, brilliant as he was at strategy, somehow managed to crash in at the moment that almost made the most sense. Or, perhaps it wasn’t planning at all. Perhaps the words had just burst out of him in giddy adrenalin as Yue and Zuko were instructed to stand beside one another in the presence of their gathered witnesses. 

“I am Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe!” Sokka yelled, cutting across Elder Anik’s grand speech in a squeaky, breathless rush. It was so unexpected that even Katara jumped in surprise. “And I — I — I do not condone this match!” 

The second bit, at least, came out a little bit stronger. Katara heard her father inhale sharply behind her, and she quickly bent the ice under his feet slick, causing him to suddenly slip and have to cling onto Bato, who almost fell at the sudden, crashing weight. She’d apologise later. Right now, Sokka needed to be able to say his piece. Her brother caught her eye, and she nodded, and he squared his shoulders and turned back to the Northern Water Tribe Elders and Fire Lord Iroh and the four Fire Sages he’d brought with him, all who were staring at Sokka with varying degrees of quiet surprise. 

“Boy,” one of the Elders boomed. “You do not—” 

“I have every right to object!” Sokka fired back at him, head thrown back proudly. “The North has violated one of the very oldest promises between the sister tribes, and I, son of the current chief of the Southern Water Tribe, will not be silent and allow it to go grossly unaddressed for another year.” 

Yue’s eyes were transfixed on Sokka as she reached out and gripped Zuko’s hand. Zuko, on the other hand, was warily alternating his gaze between the five Fire Nation representatives, the Northern Elders and the Southern representatives, entire body tense as though ready to fight. She realised, with a twist in her heart, that he expected somebody to attack Sokka for his interruption, and he was getting ready to intervene. To protect, like nobody had done for him. Once again, she was sad that Ozai hadn’t come to the North Pole so that she had no chance to accidentally drown the man. 

“Sokka,” Hakoda said, almost sharper than Katara had ever heard him. 

Elder Oki cut across her father. “The South is not truly independent,” he sneered. “The title of chief that your father holds gives him as much power as one of us Elders. If that.” 

Instead of cowing Sokka, this only made him stand taller and take a step closer to the Elders. “Exactly. The Southern Water Tribes, plural, were always meant to be under the leadership and protection of the North. Protection. Where were you in the last hundred years? Where were you in the raids that stole our Waterbenders from us? The ones that killed my mother?” Oki’s mouth snapped shut, whatever he was going to say evidently getting knocked out of him. “If any of the Water Tribes deserve compensation from the Fire Nation, it is us.” The Fire Lord’s eyebrow raised, and he tilted his head to the side, as though agreeing. “The North, our great ‘big sister’, the seat where our Chief resides, did not even offer us that reparation. They simply asked for a few delegates to come and watch the wedding. Without discussion. Without apology for years of silence.” 

There was certainly silence in the hall as Sokka took a pause, his chest heaving slightly. The same emotions that were clearly thrumming through him were in Katara’s chest, heavy and achingly hot. Some instinct made her glance at Zuko to find that his wary tracking had stopped and he was, instead, watching her. Okay? he mouthed at her, and some of the tension in her chest left as she gave him a small smile and a little nod. 

Sokka didn’t let them stew for too long. “There is only one way to make reparations between North and South. Only one way to repair the brotherhood that has been broken here for so long. And that is the promise that should have been ours over generations: the good faith, unity, and celebration of marriage. That is what I am demanding on behalf of my people.” 

The silence shattered to murmurs that rippled at different decibels across the room, people leaning in to whisper to one another. Only Sokka, Katara, Zuko and Yue stood perfectly still and perfectly upright. 

“Sokka, son,” Chief Arnook said, and his gentle tone couldn’t quite cover the grief there. Katara noticed he was pointedly not looking or speaking to her father at all. “I… I understand your hurt. But there has been a war treaty signed between —” 

“The treaty was signed to honour unity and to step forward into peace with good faith,” Zuko interrupted, voice clear and usual awkwardness completely gone. He stared Arnook head on, and only the way his free hand trembled gave away how much speaking up was costing him. “If I were still to marry Princess Yue, knowing all this that has been brought to light, it would be a violation of the very thing the marriage is supposed to stand for.” 

“Prince Zuko,” the Fire Lord said, and nobody in the room could miss how Zuko flinched instinctively. In the too-long pause that followed, Yue did what Katara longed to do but could not and placed a subtle hand on the small of Zuko’s back, rubbing small circles there to try and soothe him. The Fire Lord very briefly closed his eyes in what Katara thought might have been sorrow at his nephew’s reaction. “And Warrior Sokka. What is it that you would both suggest?” The Elders started murmuring louder, so the Fire Lord turned a mild gaze to Chief Arnook. “It would be worthwhile to hear them out, I think, Chief?” he asked, with a little bow. 

Chief Arnook, lips pressed together into a very thin line, waved his hand in agreement and in offer for Sokka to continue. Zuko looked over at Sokka, who suddenly looked very unsure. Alarmed, Katara started mentally willing him to scrape it back together. 

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19 notes - Posted May 13, 2022

#3

While the Music Lasts (20333 words) by JustAnotherGhostwriter Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Aang & Toph Beifong & Katara & Sokka & Suki & Zuko, Hakoda & Katara & Sokka (Avatar)

@zutaramonth day 25: Modern AU

A retelling of ATLA Book three in a college classical band AU. With lots of past and present and hints of future Zutara. With an added playlist for your listening needs.

24 notes - Posted April 25, 2022

#2

Chapters: 2/15 Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)

Waiting in the courtyard after the messy, terrible Agni Kai against Azula, Katara and Zuko aren't sure what to expect next. When news does come, it's devastating: Aang has failed to stop Ozai. Run. Hide. We'll find you when it's safe.

They obey the order, fail to disobey the order, and find a little temporary space for a while, until they can rejoin what is left of the plan to stop the Phoenix King from destroying the world. And they wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And learn that life has a way of carrying on even in the midst of war and failure. And then, as it always must, their past finally meets their present, and Katara and Zuko need to once again define what makes them who they are, and the roles they are willing to play in destiny.

28 notes - Posted January 30, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

NORTH STARS: PART I

PART II IS HERE.

I promise this won’t be very a long author’s note so, in summary: life really Got Real for a while there, and I lost the time to write at all. Most of the things I write and put out to the world mean something to me, but my current long project is weighty in a way that’s possibly also just a lot of self-pressure. Either way, I couldn’t leap right back into it after Februarch, and it’s Zutara Month, and my dearest and most beloved Northern Twin, @lizanthium, who deserves the best of the world, is not getting the best of the world right now.

Of course Liz’s SWT Zuko AU was the first thing I thought of when I saw today’s prompt. But I’ve already made a mess in that universe enough, so I decided to be Extra TM by writing her a “get well soon, I think you’re awesome so just keep being you, I believe in you so much” little thing set in an AU of her AU. If you’re new here: writing fic of fic is, horrifyingly and shamefully, like my signature anime attack move.

So here you go! I joked once about doing a Shakespearean/fairytale-Disney AU in which Zuko was set up in an arranged marriage with Yue, and then he and Yue fall head over heels in love (at first sight-ish, hence the Disney vibes) with both parts of the SWT delegation that come to celebrate their wedding. Cue the Shakespearean comedy and angst vibes as everybody tries to figure themselves out. So this isn’t, exactly, Southern Water Tribe Zuko. Yet. But I’ll submit it to the tag in a vain hope it makes the mark, somehow. Here are two planned beginning snippets of the AU for the worldbuilding feels, and then one scene that I didn’t plan to write but that needed to see the light of day because @barelyaware drew such hysterical and amazing fanart for it.

Liz, you’re so special. May this brighten your week at least a little. Thank you for your brain in which the SWT Zuko AU exists.

=========================================

“The way forward to find your own North Star is not to think or feel your way forward, but to dissolve the thoughts and feelings that are actually lies. You don’t have to learn your destiny — you already know it; you just have to unlearn the thoughts that blind you to what you know.” — Martha Beck.

She had always longed to be included in the war meetings her father and the tribe Elders held. Or, barring that stretch of custom, at least the serious meetings where tribe matters were discussed and decided. Yue was, after all, their princess, and one day to rule beside their chief. She had been brought up understanding and accepting that her husband would get her father’s title and responsibilities, but, as she grew older, she secretly looked at her father, ruling without her mother by his side, and wondered what would happen to her should the Spirits take the tribe’s next chief from them early. What if they had no son by that time, or had one, but he was too young? What would happen to the tribe if she did not know enough to keep them afloat until a new chief could come? Yue had never known how to broach such fears with her father, however, and so she had kept them to herself and to her prayers.

Now, finally sitting in a war meeting, Yue wished she had never longed for this moment to come and, in equal measure, wished that she had asked for it sooner. Her father’s face was as grave as a wall of black ice, but there was also a lack of his usual steadiness about him that frightened her beneath her own forced stillness and straight back. Yue couldn’t place where it appeared to be missing; was it in his shoulders or his hands or the way his eyes looked around the room? It occurred to her, with deep sadness, that perhaps it was she that was different; that the mirage that had hung around her father for so long had finally dissipated as they came to this moment, and she saw him as simply a man. Still wise and strong and worthy of all her love, but just a man.

Her husband would be just a man, too, she tried to remind herself, even as the Elders around her spoke about letting a monster into their midst. They were angry, distrustful, frightened, proud, and they had every right to be this way, but also no right at all. Yue understood that those two things could both be true, because she’d grown up learning to walk the line between two realities tugging in different directions. It both amused and alarmed her that these men she respected and loved and who protected her home did not seem to have a grasp on a truth that would be needed for the coming days. But she sat silent, and let the waves roll around her, waiting for the moment she would be heard if she spoke instead of trying to fight the tide that was stronger than her.

“We will have two men with Princess Yue at all times,” Elder Kiugak stated.

“Two is too few!” Elder Anik argued.

“If we place more around her, we will be telling the Fire Lord that we distrust his request for peace,” Elder Kiugak argued back.

“We do distrust him!” Elder Oki spoke up. “It is enough that we are agreeing to having an Ashmaker here in our city. The request to make peace by setting that thing as our one day chief is an insult that will anger the Spirits and the people we have laid to rest in this ground. It is enough that it has come to this! We cannot allow him to think that he will be treated with anything except the suspicion and disdain that his kind requires, even —”

“Thank you, Oki,” Arnook interrupted, loud but steady.

If Oki was allowed to continue, his rant would only grow like an avalanche. There was not a single person in the Northern Water Tribe who was happy about the terms of peace that they had arrived at with Fire Lord Iroh. But they also all knew that the war could not continue. As much as they’d walled themselves off and had managed to escape from Azulon’s ruthlessness, it was only a matter of time. And the rest of the world had burned. This was as much admitting defeat gracefully as it was atoning for the years they’d been wilfully blind to the suffering of those elsewhere. Or, at least, Yue hoped so.

“Perhaps,” Elder Anik interjected, giving Yue a side look full of pity, “we should ask the princess what would make her feel safe and work from that.”

“Yue?” her father asked her, nearly free of inflection.

Yue took a deep breath and raised her head higher and painted a small smile on her face. “If it will make you feel better, then please give me a guard. But I feel that none are necessary.” Protests shot up from every corner of the room, but Yue kept her gaze forward and her head high. When her father’s sweeping gaze landed on hers again, she continued, seizing her opportunity to speak. “We have few men as it is; we cannot afford having many simply standing around me, idle. Especially since Prince Zuko is coming alone, without any guards, friends or even servants.”

“Princess Yue —”

“Princess—”

“— a Firebender and —”

“—the Ashmaker—”

“Prince Zuko,” Yue said, firmly emphasising his title, “has given his word and his consent to this marriage and this treaty as Fire Lord Iroh has. Master Pakku. You trust the Fire Lord, do you not?”

There was the faintest smile on Pakku’s face; an almost approval. “I do, Princess.”

“And I trust Master Pakku’s judgement. I also trust the judgement of my Elders and of my Chief. I choose to trust that they would not have offered me in marriage to somebody whom they believed was a dishonourable liar only coming here to kill or destroy or colonise. Am I wrong?” Still with a face of innocence, Yue looked from face to face. All but Pakku’s eyes slid from hers. Pakku was definitely smirking faintly. “I did not think so, because I know of the love you have for me and for this tribe. And I know that your hearts are set on peace. And so I choose to give Prince Zuko the benefit of the doubt, because that is what I wish to start my engagement on. That is what I wish to be the foundation of my marriage and Prince Zuko’s rule over this tribe one day.”

There was a ring of silence. “Princess,” Oki finally blustered. “You have a good and kind heart, but the Ashm— the Fire Nation is a treacherous—” He stopped as he realised how close he was coming to slandering his chief, the Fire Lord and the intelligence of those who had combed through the wording of the treaty and had finally accepted the terms. “What happens if he harms you?”

“Then I will go for help,” Yue replied, giving him a soft, gentle smile. “And if he kills me, then there are repercussions you can take on the Fire Nation. And Hahn will become the next chief, as was the original intent before this treaty. Elders, death is not something you can keep at bay. We all know this. I know this deeply.” She fingered her Spirit-touched white hair. “And I choose to believe in the Spirits, in our people, in the reported love Fire Lord Iroh has for his nephew, and in the good intentions of people who are soon to be tied with ours forever. We agreed to embrace them as members of our tribe. Let us not be as dishonourable as we are accusing them of being.”

Yue let them talk and argue and complain and half-slither around things they didn’t want to say outright after that, content that she had had her peace. When the meeting finally ended, her father motioned for her to stay, and she did so until they were alone. They walked out the hall side-by-side in a heavy silence.

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32 notes - Posted April 5, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #Awww #Look at me loving my squad #I love that it's ATLA everywhere #and then my longest tag is me screaming about Jake Berenson #On brand #Nothing has changed #About Me #About My Writing

[starlightcleric]

Still doing a bit fuzzy, but I'm tentatively starting to make writing plans again.

Looking to continue to update Autumn With a Witch, my Sun Haven fluff fic, on a weekly basis.

Also looking to continue with updates to the Fluffvember prompts I started in 2019 for modern au Cal/Xoti.

Because they're stirring in my brain, I'm starting to dust off A Tangle of Brambles, my Pillars of Eternity fic about my family of orlans, but I'm not going to make that my NaNo project because honestly I think that's too big of an undertaking.

For NaNoWriMo, I'm going to try to write the Shadowrun: Dragonfall prequel fic that's been kicking around in my head for two and a half years. This is somewhat daunting because I know that this is not a large fandom and I am basically writing this for me.

I don't currently have any plans for Owlcatober (besides, you know, organizing the event), but I might try staring at the prompts again to see if I can line any up with any fic ideas I already had floating around.

#now it would be great if my brain would cooperate with these plans and let me do things (:

[kimageddon]

A Prince of Dathomir - Chapter 95

-|- Page header by space-b33 -|- Masterlist -|- Prince of Dathomir Masterlist -|- Sins of the Father Masterlist -|- Art Masterlist -|- Check out my : Ko-fi / AO3 -|- Prompt Challenges -|- Art Attack Weekly Challenge -|- Join my tag list -|-

Maul x Nightsister OC (Zaiya Valessa) - Slight Canon Divergence - Prince of Dathomir Masterlist

Word count: Approx 3600 Contains/Warnings: Violence, death, blood, injury, self doubt, negative self-talk, intense negative emotions Chapter Summary: Zaiya and her ARC Troopers face the invaders and Sith Assassin Ventress Notes: Strap yourselves it... this one hurts. (More notes at the end)

Mistakes - Part 1

Alarms were blaring, the screams of metal deafening. The very outer shells of Tipoca City’s pod-like domes were being torn and ripped apart by squid-shaped ships, latching to the side and drilling a central pointed pillar down into the building as though juicing a ripe fruit. 

Alpha heard voices in his comms; the Generals, and Ver’alor Siren. She’d known something would happen, like some kind of fortune teller. He’d seen enough of her power to trust her and back her up. He’d seen her in battle. She fought like some kind of demon, like she was invincible. As though blaster bolts might just bounce off her. Even though he knew they didn’t. 

She’d taken a shot for him once. The Captain had also seen the injury report after her three day incarceration by the Seppies. That had taken some intimidation to get a copy, Siren had not wanted anyone to see it. But he saw the scans. She’d nearly died. She was reckless and angry. She was as fierce as the rancors she claimed to hunt. 

Alpha had never felt more safe with her at his back. He hadn’t thought much of her at first, but after seeing her determination; the way she had changed tactics when her training methods caused more harm than help. He was convinced. This outsider… though she may have started as such… she was now one of them. And he was not about to let her down. 

The gruff Captain relayed orders as the City shook around them. He had a company of ARC Troopers with him, along with the four unique clones that had adopted the nickname “Bad Batch”. They were young but he had seen them work. Not only did Siren pride them as her best students, they were just as determined as she was. They were also ready to join the fight. Like his chance had come in the last invasion, he believed theirs would come today.

There wasn’t much in the way of protection in the smooth white hallways, so the boys had dragged out tables, crates and anything else they could use to provide some form of cover. They were all positioned, waiting for the enemy to arrive.  

He stood at the ready when he heard footsteps. Fast, light and growing louder. The men around him tensed as they heard it but he waved a hand. 

“Stand down,” he murmured in what was almost a grunt. 

“Sir?” asked Caboose, from behind him. A few moments later, the woman herself flew around the corner, her braids, coat and red sash a flurry behind her. Her pace slowed as she approached, her breathing a little heavier. 

“How did you know?’ another Trooper named Sol asked. Alpha smirked. 

“We’ve been workin’ together for so long, if I didn’t recognise her steps by now I oughta be demoted!” Siren flashed a grin at them, hearing the comment. He’d warned her not to smile like that, it made the men practically moon over her because of it. Even he had to admit, her smile was stunning. Even he wasn’t immune, but he was not about to ever let that slip. 

“I’m flattered you pay so much attention to me, Captain,” she said as she drew nearer. “I might start thinking you like me or something.” Alpha almost scoffed. If only she knew or understood how “liked” she was. She didn’t seem to see it. At first he thought it was deliberate, but she seemed utterly confused by any form of affection. 

He felt a little bad for the silver-haired twig. Alpha had noticed that the cadet sniper was almost floating any time she walked in the room. He was not as subtle about it as he thought. Alpha had to roll his eyes. 

“Not a chance,” the Captain smirked back. She just laughed. The tense mood among the men lifted a little, only for another jolt through the entire facility had many of them sprawling. The zabrak woman gave a growl and Alpha could not help but mirror her feelings. Both of them wanted to be on the front lines. 

“We have incoming,” Hunter said suddenly, and pointed to a hallway to their right. It was then they heard the steps of droids filling the halls. A sound that still gave Alpha nightmares after the first invasion. Now it was happening again. 

“Here we go, boys,” Siren muttered, her gaze hard as she drew those long curved knives. He didn’t know how she did it, but the blades ignited into a bright green flame, much like her eye. Alpha swore  he saw a wicked little grin on her lips, moments before she charged. 

----

Maul had managed to stagger to his feet, slowly, he had pushed himself to walk, and through sheer force of will, he was moving forward. Slow progress around the room when suddenly the whole room shook. He barely managed to catch himself in time, one foot slamming into the ground and sending shocks of pain all the way up. It took everything in him not to scream. 

He needed to know what was happening. Scanning the room, he spotted a terminal on the far console and made his way over, his steps far slower than he would like. Sitting didn’t hurt as much, it seemed, though it was still uncomfortable. 

He began to tap through the controls in order to find some form of assessment on the situation. Maul was no expert, and he had not had to break into such a system in a very long time, but his memories were intact enough that he could recall how to do it. 

After only a few minutes there was a schematic pulled up on the holoprojector and he could see a red flashing warning about a breach. Strange ships shaped like some kind of sea-dwelling creature appeared to be attached to the sides of several of the buildings of the city. 

They were under attack, Zaiya was right in her apprehension… it seemed her senses were incredibly well-attuned to the Force and its visions. 

Now he had to find her. There were small dots on the map in various points, reaching in to tap one, he discovered they were surveillance locations and he could see what was happening. It took some time, but finally a flash of a while braid on one of the feeds drew his attention. His yellow eyes focused on her, standing among a group of mostly identical men… aside from four individuals just behind her. 

She carried herself well, her back straight and head high, the men seemed to be watching her, as though waiting for instructions. She wore power like a cloak, he could almost see it. 

Suddenly one of the men, a shorter individual with longer hair pointed and the entire group seemed to tense. Maul watched as Zaiya dropped into a defensive stance and he couldn’t help but smirk. He was looking forward to watching her destroy everything in her path.

----

Zaiya was like a wraith. She had not mastered the magick of teleportation as some of her Sisters had. But she was fast enough that it mattered little. With a few rapid steps she had met the battledroids in the hall, slicing down the first one before they could even fire off the first shot. 

A hail of blaster fire exploded from the droids, each of them walking forward in regimented lines, as though they were all a part of the same machine. 

[Hangar 7 is breached! The droids are everywhere!] she heard through the comm, a quick glance told her it was Havoc’s frequency. 

“Keep your head down! Fall back to better cover!” Zaiya cried, a tightness in her chest. It was then she heard another voice, a soft one she recognised. 

[I-I came to help…!]

[Ninety-Nine get to cover!] Havoc retorted. [This is no place for--arrgh!] Zaiya heard the sound of a thud and a cry of distress. 

“Havoc?” she called. “Havoc!” She cut down the droid closest to her as she strained to hear the comm. 

[...s-sorry, Ver’alor…] She heard Havoc groan, [I don’t think… I can--]

“HAVOC!” she cried. The line went dead and she knew, even without seeing him, that he was too. Her chest felt tight and the nearest droid was suddenly destroyed with her fist through its power bank on its chest. She screamed a vicious word in her native tongue. She should have been there. She should have stopped them! 

“A-all teams, regroup to cover,” she managed to say into the open channel. Her hearts ached. She shouldn’t be here. She should be at the front, facing the sith assassin Ventress and ensuring more of her -- of the clones did not perish unnecessarily.

[Anakin and I are on the way,] she heard Kenobi’s irritating voice through the comms. [I will engage General Grievous near the barracks, and Anakin will join you in the DNA room.]

“Understood,” was all Zaiya could manage. 

There was pain in her, and she did the only thing she could think of… what both Talzin and Maul had taught her to do. She dropped into it, feeding off it, letting her pain twist into rage that would allow her to fight harder, and destroy every one of these worthless pathetic walking scrap piles! 

With a snarl her blazing green mila hanska drove deep into the chassis of the nearest two droids and she whirled, cleaving them in twain as she dropped into a defensive stance. If Grievous was headed for the barracks, then Ventress was on her way here. 

Finally. 

Zaiya would be able to face her, bring her to heel and destroy another of Sidious’ pawns. The less power Sidious held, the better. The more she thought about them, these enemies of hers… the angrier she got. 

She could hear the shouts from her men behind her, and the Force hummed in warning. With a gasp, she darted to the left, swinging her blade upward, narrowly able to deflect a blast and glanced back to where it would have gone had she not been paying attention. Tech blinked at her owlishly for a moment and she offered a nod which he returned. She heaved a sigh of relief and returned to the battle. 

“Has anyone got eyes on Ventress?!” she called into the comm as another wave of battle droids and destroyers  came thundering towards them. 

[Ver’alor! She’s infiltrated the city! My men and I have engaged!] It was Colt, and he sounded breathless. If she was there, and Skywalker was not--

“Colt, pull back! Get your men out of there!” Zaiya cried, as fear clawed its way up the inside of her throat. “That’s an order!” 

But it was too late.

There were screams, blasterfire and then the buzz of a lightsaber. 

Then nothing.

“Someone talk to me! What’s happening down there?!” the Nightsister roared. There was some static and then-- 

[This is Corporal Sands… Colt… is dead. Ventress got him, through the heart with her saber, I only saw a glimpse as we retreated.] His voice was heavy and once again Zaiya found breathing difficult. Two of her ARCs now… and she could not protect them. 

“Regroup with us Corporal…” she said hoarsely. The comm disconnected and she let out a scream of rage. The sound was like some kind of ethereal howl; the utter force of it mixed with her power and one of the droids was sent stumbling back, sparks flying from its audio processors. 

There was a lull in battle, the remainder of Colt’s men diverted to support other areas and she heard through the chatter that Cody and Rex had reached the barracks, and met up with Fives, Echo and Ninety Nine. Apparently some wayward cadets had gotten lost and ended up there too. She didn’t know how, they weren’t supposed to be there! Colt’s men were unable to provide back up, having pulled back from that location and Zaiya felt her throat tighten. She gave the order for them to make their way back as soon as possible, though they were pinned by more droids. 

Kenobi had apparently engaged Grievous, but Zaiya has seen neither hide nor hairless head of the traitorous Sister of hers. But neither had she seen Skywalker. Her heart thrummed in her chest and it was as though there were sparks of electricity under her very skin. 

It was in this moment that Alpha approached, while the others were quickly patched up. She had not lost any men, thank the Winged Goddess, but they weren’t out of the swamp yet, so to speak. The clone Captain, somehow seeming broader and larger than all his brothers, came to her side and laid a big broad hand on her shoulder. 

“Need you to focus, Siren,” he said quietly. Her head snapped to face him and she barely suppressed a growl. 

“You think I am distracted, Captain?” she snapped. More of an accusation than a question. In the back of her mind she realised how she sounded just like someone else she knew. But she could not think of that now. 

“You can mourn later,” he pressed, undeterred by her tone. He was right as per usual. She was seething and grieving on the inside, but it did little to aid her right now. No, she needed to focus in the right direction, let the pain make her senses shaper, not duller. She met his dark eyes for a long moment before giving a slight nod. 

In his eyes it was obvious he felt the same pain, the same rage. Those were his brothers and batchmates slain. His kin. His pain probably eclipsed hers. She had to be Ver’alor first, and big sister second. It still didn’t sit right with her. 

“Skywalker, come in, where are you?” Zaiya asked suddenly into her communicator. This brief respite would not last long. 

[I’m-- being held up…!] the Jedi grunted back in exertion, she could hear the sounds of battle through the tiny speaker. [I’m nearly there, any sign of her?]

“Negative,” she replied. 

[Good, if she does, don’t engage, you can’t handle her alone,” Skywalker began but Zaiya made a sound of indignation.

“We’re in position, we must protect the DNA room. If she--” Zaiya cut off as she spotted a figure appear around the hallway. “Guns up!” she cried and gave one last response into the comm. “Target approaching.” 

Asajj Ventress held a deactivated saber in each hand as she sauntered closer to the troupe. Zaiya quickly stepped to the front, feeling Alpha bristle with a deep rage… and a little fear just behind her. She could say nothing to him for the moment, her attentions levelled at the other Nightsister. 

“So, we meet again, little witch,” she drawled and Zaiya’s tattooed lip curled in revulsion. Ventress said it as though she looked down on her, a smug arrogance that Zaiya recognised. It was something uniquely Sith. 

“Indeed,” Zaiya replied flatly, not sure where she got ‘little’ from as Zaiya was easily the same height as her and more built in frame than the willowy Ventress. 

“Are you going to run away like a coward again?” Ventress’s voice was dripping with venom. 

“That would not suit my purposes this time, assassin,” Zaiya spat back. The bald woman ignited her scarlet lightsabers, a cruel grin crossing her lips. 

“Then this might actually be fun.”

Ventress was on Zaiya a second later and Zaiya met her strikes with her own ceremonial blades. They might not have been lightsabers but the fire pouring into them though her nexus powers stayed the plasma blades and met them in a vicious hiss. The clones opened fire as Ventress dodged a counter slash at her middle. A second later-- a battalion of droids appeared around the corridor, where Ventress had come from. 

The white haired zabrak spun out of the path of one blade, striking upward with her dominant hand. Only for Ventress to block it and push her back. She could feel rage bleed through the Force from the other woman and Zaiya’s only increased. 

How dare Ventress feel such rage! For what? She had caused so much pain, so much loss and tragedy and violence. All she lost in this war was droids! Zaiya had lost friends! Had lost years of her life because of the Sith! How dare this Ventress claim such power through anger! She did not deserve it! 

What had she to be angry about?! Losing a droid?! It was absurd to Zaiya in that moment that Asajj Ventress would have the right to feel anything at all, let alone using her hatred in order to give herself power! It was vile! 

[This is Captain Rex of the 501st battalion.] His voice was measured in her ear as she dodged another blow. [Commander Cody and I are in trouble, we need backup!] There was a strain to his voice that made her chest tighten again. 

[Corporal Sands… how far away are you?] Alpha’s voice spoke through the comm channel as she blocked another blow from Ventress that nearly took one of her braids off. 

[We’re pinned down! Until we push these clankers back, we aren’t going anywhere!] Sands replied and Zaiya cursed under her breath. Ventress laughed at her. 

“What’s the matter? Are your little Republic pets dying as they were bred to do? Pathetic!” she sneered and Zaiya let out a scream of outrage, shoving her back, the green flames flickering and sparking in Ventress’ face. She reeled back with a snarl and Zaiya began to advance.

Again and again Zaiya struck, her blades glancing off the lightsaber beam and sparking a mix of scarlet and neon green. The white haired Nightsister’s face a twisted vision of rage. She had Ventress on the defensive, pushing her back. She was only vaguely aware of Skywalker informing her he had to defer to stop part of one of the pods collapsing. It was all just noise to her at that point. Ventress grit her teeth but Zaiya’s attack was too strong, her emotions fuelling her, guiding her strikes. 

Then she heard the comm again.

[We’re holding, but low on ammo-- if we can--] she heard a soft warm voice in the background, full of excitement, loud enough to hear he would get them more ammunition, then getting quieter. 

Zaiya felt like she had been struck. 

No.

[Ninety-Nine!] she heard Rex scream, the comm left on in his distraction. She moved out of instinct, and barely blocked the attack that did strike her. One of Ventress’ lightsabers slashed her across the thigh as the other was held by her blades -- burning against her shoulder, barely having stopped herself from being decapitated. Her jacket was burning where the plasma blade strained, too close to her, her skin blistering beneath. 

But it was nothing as she heard the screams of Cody, Fives and Rex, trying to rouse Ninety-Nine from where he had presumably fallen. 

Fallen, and would not wake. 

Zaiya felt it… a ripple through the Force as she too dropped. Ventress flung her back and she hit the wall, her head cracked on the white wall, something warm seeped over her skull and under her hair. The world went hazy, and for a moment she couldn’t see. She didn’t even hear the screams from the others as she slumped against the wall. 

She felt him fade. 

The sweetest, kindest and most gentle person she had ever met… fading from this world and into the Living Force. Of all the people that may or may not have deserved death… not him. Not Ninety-Nine. 

All the times they had spoken, had tea, chatted while working, or while she trained… all those moments flashed in her mind. Of all the beings in the Galaxy that should die before her. That should suffer such a fate instead of her. After all she had done. 

It wasn’t supposed to be him. It wasn’t supposed to be Ninety-Nine. Her teeth grit and heat burned its way up her spine. She couldn’t protect him. She didn’t save him. Yet another that was taken from her. Another that did not deserve the life that was given. Another star --bright in the darkness of this cruel galaxy-- that was snuffed out too soon. 

Her breathing was laboured, her chest heaved. Mismatched eyes rolled and closed, there was a warm hand shaking her but she could barely feel it.

Failure. 

Yet again. She didn’t save him. Any of them. Just watched as he was taken away. She didn’t-- but she could avenge him. 

Zaiya’s eyes shot open. The world went still and silent. 

“Where?” she hissed, a low growl as her eyes snapped to Alpha. The big clone jerked back slightly at the molten heat of her gaze. 

“What--?” he began, then returned to the moment. “She got past us, she took the DNA canister, she’d headed back to the hangar!” 

Zaiya stood and shrugged off Alpha’s hand to help her up. The sound that escaped her was like an animal’s snarl. She walked forward toward the hangar, as more droids appeared. 

“What are you going to do?” It was Wrecker’s voice, speaking to her through the comm. She paused in place and turned back. Her expression was distant, disgusted with everything, though it softened slightly as she looked at her comrades. 

“What I should have done from the beginning,” she growled and threw out a hand toward the droids. A wave through the Force and they were all thrown back, shattering to pieces as she stalked down the corridor. She paid no attention to the gasps and shock behind her. She had a witch to slaughter.

Notes: Hello my lovelies! …please don't hate me. This is a painful one. T^T I contemplated changing their destinies but it kind of felt necessary for the plot and character development. It hurt me tooooooo T^T

Next week in Part 2 we shall see if Zaiya catches up to Ventress and whether she will be in trouble for using the Force. Do you think anyone noticed? … They might have noticed. <.<

As for me, I am still writing away and drawing as well of course, I am very excited for the upcoming chapter 100, I have had one or two questions come in but please, if you have any, leave them in a comment and I will answer it in a special post when chapter 100 comes out! Even if it's a small one, I'd love to hear it! I always love any comments, questions or not so if you are able please please, leave me a comment or feedback! I love love love hearing what you have to say.

I think that's all I need to say for this week, so until then, hope you are all happy and well! <3

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[demonologue]

Tavuary weekly prompt 2: Amour

Title: Whom Gods Destroy Characters: The Emperor, Tav, Astarion (mention only) Rating: M Summary: There is ONE man Tav has those feelings for. But he’s just a dream. (Spoiler warning for the reveal and the in-game scene I jumped off of for this) Cross-posted from ao3 with visual aids!

So you found the seat of the Absolute’s power, and what a power it is.

You hear his voice before you see him: your guardian, the dream visitor. And suddenly you’re back in the mystical landscape that exists inside the relic. Glancing around, you try to take in your surroundings this time. Is this a real place, or merely an illusion made of memory? And are the memories yours or his? They do look familiar, somehow. 

Then he steps from behind a pillar into view, and you find yourself unable to look at anything else. Your mouth gapes like a fish out of water. He is wearing…nothing; a gauzy half-robe that leaves his muscular chest, toned arms, and long legs almost completely exposed. 

Where is his armor? As intimate a presence as his voice inside your head has become–someone who is deeply known and trusted, anticipated–you have always thought of him formally. Your guardian is regal. Commanding. Yet you know he feels deeply, for when he reads your mind, his thoughts are not completely hidden from you. 

This has been the sum of your relationship. And you have never, would never have thought of him like this. So what is happening? And why? Perhaps this is just a dream after all, and no actual visitation. You could ask the others in the morning…if you manage get up the courage to describe…this. You can hear Astarion’s mocking laughter already. No thank you. 

Your guardian pauses and looks down at you as you sit up from your bedroll. The look on his face is that seldom-seen one; the one you usually catch only as a micro-expression, if you see it at all. It is a predatory look; dangerous, but with just a hint of amusement. You are mine, it says. And I am pleased.  

That should trouble you now. But it doesn’t. You are still stunned to see so much of his body. The twisting gold which adorns his arms serves more to highlight than hide. And then he says:

I don’t know how much longer I can resist it.

And you think gods, I am not made for this.

It’s as if your libido echoes his sentiment. And as he proceeds to speak of the dire circumstances at hand, you fall into a mindless reverie of his body. In a way you would never have dreamed of before tonight…and yet here it is, so you must be doing it. 

Your guardian sits down beside you, and your heart leaps into your mouth, beating like that of frightened prey. Settling next to you, so close your skin is growing hotter by the moment–surely he will notice– he bends one knee to rest his arm on it. 

He continues to speak in that urgent yet soothing tone you’ve come to know so well, about how perilous your joint circumstance is, how crucial your mission. Something something Ketheric Thorm. 

You try to listen, but there’s a ringing in your ears. His inner thigh. Why did he just bare his inner thigh to you…and do it so casually? There is a disconnect between the proximity of his mostly-nude form to yours and the dire import of his words. Your brain cannot reconcile it.

Worse, you cannot stop staring. You force your gaze forward. Listen! You chide yourself. The lives of many depend on you. But you find yourself stealing glances at the figure beside you. You wonder what his skin would taste like. 

No! Listen! Look at literally anything else. Oh gods. He’s saying something about waves now. And your distracted brain thinks of the beach. The two of you sitting together as the waves gently caress the sand. How it would feel to bury your face in the hollow of his thigh…

You may be having a stroke, because your brain is not processing any of his important words. You bend forward and pretend to be listening. You pull your new shirt down to disguise your body’s reaction to him. To this.

Stop, eyes! Stop caressing his bare skin; he didn’t give permission. This is wrong. Your dreaming has transported you here to a demiplane that shouldn’t exist. More than a few things here are wrong, but nothing more so than the way your body is betraying you right now. Listen! You tell yourself. This is important! 

I almost dare not rest.

Oh no. The situation is even worse than you’d thought, and you’ve hardly heard a word. He glances over at you and you immediately wish you could dive head-first into the Abyss. You would do it now, if the opportunity presented itself. Without a second thought. 

But his expression remains how you see it most often: exhausted, hurt, yet determined. There is a steel will behind those blue-green eyes. A brief pause comes as he looks at you, and then one pierced eyebrow quirks. 

Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, please keep talking. Mission. Important. That giant shipment of tadpoles heading for Baldur’s Gate you and the others just found. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you blurt out. A distraction. Please, gods. Anything. 

But it’s true; you don’t like to think about him fighting this war alone, unable to rest. He’s so beautiful brave and so very close dedicated. He deserves whatever help you’re able to give. 

You realize in this moment that you would die for him, eagerly and gladly, and it’s an ugly realization. One you should really hold at arm’s length and examine. But you can’t now. You don’t want to. 

You’re here, and he’s here, and you are together in this sacred space, alone. Like when he called you to the beckoning cave in the astral plane. The metaphor hits you now like ice down your back, shivering, too much. He wanted you. He demanded to see you alone.

He’s taking too long to answer your question. Oh gods, please let him say anything that’s not addressing what’s happening here. Your guardian has always been the picture of courtliness and formality--well, except for the part where he speaks into your mind, unbidden, at any time that suits him, and seems to be eavesdropping on everything you do. But surely he won’t draw attention to the fact your body has suddenly and utterly betrayed you with the enthusiasm of an adolescent boy. 

I’m afraid this burden is one I have to carry alone.

Oh, thank gods. Thank gods. Back to serious conversation. Hero talk, yes. Just a few more minutes of that, and your hormones should start to calm down. 

But…

No!

I feel I must apologize to you.

No no no no–what?

I must confess. I noticed when you were here, physically in my sanctuary… He actually glances away then, releases a breath. For a moment, he looks almost…demure?

What did he notice then? You wrack your brain, trying to remember any possible misstep. But no. You were overwhelmed to finally meet him in the flesh, but you didn’t…do anything…did you? Perhaps you blushed. That’s very likely. Your indigo skin was on fire and your heart had been beating out of your chest. 

But that could have been attributed to any number of things. You’d just been fighting for your life in the creche, after all. 

He’s still not looking at you. You seemed to find this form…pleasing. He glances up at you and then away, lightning quick.

Was that…shyness? Your regal, confident dream guardian is shy?! No. No, that’s not possible. 

So…I thought to show you more of it. He turns his head, looking 180 degrees away from you. And the only thing you can think of is the way his ponytail is just a little messy at the very back of his top bun. It’s endearing. A mortal imperfection in an otherwise perfect form. But now I see I may have gone too far. I never meant for it to be a distraction to you. 

Oh god, oh god, please don’t say it!

And for that, I must apologize. But when he turns to meet your gaze, it’s no longer the shy youth he pantomimed moments ago looking back at you. It’s something ancient. Predatory. Testing you. Wearing a sexy smirk that is daring you to react, and makes your hackles rise.

It’s…a lot. You’re not sure how to take it; or even how he means it. But you are a druid, and you know when another animal is trying to dominate you. It’s time to set some boundaries. Just like you did with Astarion that first night. 

“It’s true,” you begin, willing yourself to hold that alien, alpha gaze. “I would be lying if I said you…your appearance today wasn’t distracting. I’m not sure why you chose to reveal…so much of your body to me now, but I do know this: what’s happening outside this place is too important for distractions. 

“So…and please forgive me. It’s not that I–”

You swallow your words. The shame your visceral longing for him engenders in you. How desperately you want to climb on top of him and hold him down, devour every inch of him until that sonorous voice begs you for release.

You breathe in through your nostrils, exhale through your mouth. Count your heartbeats to ten.  

“Please don’t take this as an insult, because I swear to all the gods, it is nothing of the kind.” With that, you slip off your new silk shirt and hold it open, offering it to him. 

It has not escaped your notice: he’s never touched you. In all the intimate conversations you’ve had, the time you’ve spent together in dreams and in reality, he has never so much as hinted at a desire to do so. That’s as it should be. He is a general giving you, a mere soldier, orders. 

And yet. There is a mewling, pitiful part of you that you’ve pushed deep down; one that is desperate to touch him. To be touched by him. You're far too old for an infatuation like that. And you cannot, will not acknowledge it now.

He hasn’t touched you. Somehow, you just know: he won’t touch you. And so you hold the shirt out to him, for him to choose if he will take it or not. 

Your visitor does take it, graciously lifting it from your hands in a way that is careful to avoid physical contact. When he slips it on, the hem is almost longer than the toga he’s wearing, and you want to laugh, but you still can’t stop staring at his legs. 

Gods help you. You’d offer him your pants, but then you’d be the naked one. 

As he pulls the shirt on, he looks at you from the corner of his eye. It’s not to gauge your reaction; this time he’s looking at you. For just a moment, you can feel his white hot gaze on your body.

Now his chest is covered, you can concentrate on his face while he’s talking. Your mind can finally listen, but your body knows, if you glance down just so much, you can still see his bare thighs. It reacts to this knowledge, violently, and you fold your hands strategically in your lap, pretend to cough. There is nothing else to be done about…that now, so you ignore it. 

Thank you. He nods, the noble tactician once more. And you nod back. 

In any case, the Absolute knows you carry me with you now. It wants to retrieve me.

Your whole being bristles at this. Ketheric Thorm can’t have your dream visitor. You’ll die before a single cultist lays a finger on the prism. 

Bad enough you have to share him with the others–for you learned weeks ago, on nights when he visits, the dream is the same for all of you. The same visitor, the same words, just different visages. They are your found family, and the guardian’s chosen. You are connected, and so you bear it. But Ketheric Thorm? He is just another necromancer with delusions of grandeur, and he will fall by your hand. 

You ask why Thorm wants him, but you already know. Your visitor is special. Powerful. Unique in all the worlds.

I am the only one who can resist the Absolute’s influence.

That steel will you can only admire. Petty despots always seek to stamp out resistance. He explains what the enemy wants, and what you must do next. So many depend on you. It should be intimidating, but your body is humming: do it for him. I want to do it for him. This should concern you, but the sheer force of your desire is painful right now; it repels thought. 

Now I must rest, and you must carry on. Do not let my efforts be in vain.

“Never,” you promise, sounding like the most smitten fool. You’d hate yourself for it, but his eyes are still on you, and you have to soak up every last drop of his attention. You find yourself physically unable to break eye contact with him, and you have no desire to do so anyway. 

Finally, he releases you, and you begin to fall back into a dreamless sleep. Or so you thought. 

Friend. 

The way he says it draws you back.  

Soon. 

You give him a questioning look.

I can feel that which you desire…your wish to touch me. And I…I, too, wish for it. But you are not yet ready. 

You have a certain appendage that is physical proof to the contrary, but it’s an odd turn of phrase, and so you just listen. “When?” you find yourself asking, your breath become shallow with possibility.

Soon. Bear with me just a little longer. Please.

He reaches toward you, as if to caress your cheek, but he stands meters away. A conciliatory gesture only. But in his eyes there is an ache that mirrors your own. And it haunts you.

#bg3 #tavuary #fanfiction #bg3 emperor #bg3 spoilers #he came in like a wrecking ball #m/m #male tav

[seans-weekly-blog]

Weekly Personal Reflection

Navigating a challenging period in my life has underscored the importance of self-care, a practice that has been integral to my well-being. Typically, my self-care routine revolves around spending quality time with friends and engaging in activities that bring me joy, such as rock climbing. However, this past week presented an unusual deviation from my usual routine, prompting a reflection on the role of self-care during tumultuous times.

Friendships have always been a pillar of support for me, providing solace and understanding in times of difficulty. Whether through shared laughter or heartfelt conversations, the presence of friends has been a vital component of my self-care. Unfortunately, the demands of this challenging week limited my ability to lean on these crucial connections. The absence of this support highlighted the significance of nurturing these friendships during both good and challenging times.

Rock climbing, another cornerstone of my self-care routine, serves as a physical and mental release. The tactile connection with the rock, the focus required for each movement, and the satisfaction of overcoming a climbing challenge contribute significantly to my overall well-being. Unfortunately, the demands of the past week prevented me from engaging in this therapeutic activity, leaving a void in my usual coping mechanisms.

In the absence of these familiar sources of comfort, I found myself grappling with the importance of adapting self-care practices to the evolving circumstances of life. While the usual outlets were temporarily inaccessible, the experience reinforced the need for flexibility in self-care strategies. Exploring alternative methods, such as mindfulness exercises or brief moments of solitude, became essential in navigating this challenging period.

As I emerge from this difficult week, the reflection on the limitations of my usual self-care routine has prompted a renewed appreciation for its significance. The temporary disruptions served as a reminder of the adaptability required to sustain well-being during unpredictable times. Moving forward, I am motivated to integrate this newfound flexibility into my self-care practices, recognizing that resilience lies not only in the consistency of routine but also in the ability to embrace change and find solace in diverse sources of support and rejuvenation.

[chaselodgehospital]

Top 7 Tips for Leading a Healthy Lifestyle

Maintaining a healthy lifestyle is more important than ever in today’s fast-paced world. It's no secret that our habits and choices significantly impact our overall well-being. Chase Lodge Hospital’s doctors have dedicated their lives to promoting the good health of their patients. Here are the top seven tips their doctors recommend for achieving and sustaining a healthy lifestyle:

1.       Prioritise Balanced Nutrition

One of the fundamental pillars of a healthy lifestyle is a balanced diet. Doctors emphasise the importance of consuming nutrient-rich foods. Opt for fruits, vegetables, whole grains, lean proteins, and healthy fats. Avoid excessive intake of processed foods, sugary snacks, and beverages. Balancing your diet ensures your body receives the necessary vitamins, minerals, and macronutrients to function optimally.

2.       Stay Hydrated

Dehydration can lead to fatigue, impaired cognitive function, and other health issues. Therefore, drinking an adequate amount of water is crucial for maintaining good health. Make it a habit to drink at least eight glasses of water daily. Remember to adjust your intake based on physical activity and weather conditions. If you struggle with plain water, infuse it with fresh fruits or opt for herbal teas to add flavour.

3.       Engage in Regular Physical Activity

Exercise is vital for a healthy lifestyle. Doctors highlight the importance of engaging in regular physical activity. Aim for at least 150 minutes of moderate-intensity aerobic exercise or 75 minutes of vigorous exercise each week. Use strength training exercises twice weekly to maintain muscle mass and bone density. Find activities you enjoy, such as swimming, dancing, or hiking, to make staying active a pleasurable experience.

4.       Prioritise Sleep

Adequate sleep is often overlooked but significantly affects our overall well-being. Doctors advise adults to aim for seven to nine hours of quality sleep each night. Establish a consistent sleep routine, create a calming sleep environment, and limit exposure to electronic devices before bedtime. Good sleep promotes mental clarity, strengthens the immune system, and enhances overall vitality.

5.       Manage Stress

Chronic stress can take a toll on both our physical and mental health. Doctors suggest adopting stress-reducing techniques. Engage in activities like meditation, deep breathing exercises, or yoga to calm the mind and body. Find healthy outlets for stress, such as engaging in hobbies, spending time with loved ones, or seeking professional support when needed. Taking proactive steps to manage stress contributes to a healthier and happier life.

6.       Cultivate Healthy Relationships

Psychiatrists highlight the importance of healthy relationships in promoting overall health. Surround yourself with supportive friends and family members who uplift and motivate you. Nurturing meaningful connections reduces stress levels and contributes to a positive mindset. Engage in open communication, set healthy boundaries, and seek professional help when dealing with relationship challenges.

7.       Regular Health Check-ups

Pay attention to the importance of regular health check-ups and screenings. Expert doctors recommend scheduling routine appointments with your healthcare provider to monitor your overall health and identify any potential issues before they become serious. These check-ups help catch diseases early, allowing prompt intervention and better treatment outcomes.

Incorporating these tips into your daily life can pave the way for a healthier lifestyle. By following the advice of expert doctors, you can optimise your physical, mental, and emotional well-being. Remember, small changes can make a big difference. Embrace these tips and embark on a journey towards a healthier, happier you. Your body and mind will thank you in the long run.

Chase Lodge Hospital is the place to go if you're looking for private GP services. The hospital offers exceptional private GP services, ensuring personalised and comprehensive healthcare for our patients. With a team of experienced and compassionate general practitioners, they prioritise your well-being and provide prompt, unhurried consultations. From routine check-ups to specialised medical care, they strive to deliver excellence in diagnostics, treatment, and preventive measures.

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