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riflewrench6 · 2 years

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The Key Of Minecraft That No One Is Speaking About

And it drawn to 1/three Minecraft users to find. Enjoy Miner in Minecraft Free To Play and have enjoyable! need realtor doesn't matter what you're a new or old customer to the Minecraft world, have you ever questioned why you love playing Minecraft games on-line? When you want to create something according to your expertise or creativity, you recognize where is the very best place for you to specific what you love. If you're a Minecraft lover, then you definately will certainly want to enjoy the best recreation doable. The Minecraft server that you select plays a significant position with one of the best form of expertise you've got when taking part in. Websites have quite a lot of suggestions that of us will be capable to squeeze when players turn out to be stuck. Nevertheless, in recent timess, playing on-line games is simply too easy as the event of the gaming web sites is rising in a good way. Finding out the acceptable website can also be potential as you are now getting widespread serps to search for the gaming web sites. In as of late, when a wide variety of facilities are available to spend high quality instances, then you'd additionally attempt to select from the accessible assets. We're going to do this by spinning up a number of Minecraft servers, after which inserting Kong Gateway in entrance of those upstream services to handle port forwarding and load balancing.

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#NEED REALTOR #I'm Here #I love #Minecraft

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themagical1sa · 2 years

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Some Filipino Cinderella thoughts ft. Tagalog culture

It all started when I found @nitewrighter's Cinderella story one day. I had managed to read all eight (8) parts of her version in one sitting (as proven by the very asks I sent her: 1, 2, 3, 4) and my brain has made some space for it in my head ever since.

I was taking a bath earlier this morning when I had an interesting thought: what if Cinderella wore a Filipiniana?

Squeegool has also drawn many other (re)designs for a Filipino Cinderella, in case you'd like to see them too! :3

It was a simple and interesting thought, yet it also sounded really awesome to me — I guess it's the thought of being able to present and share my culture through our national attire. The Filipiniana is truly a lovely attire, and being able to design my own take of the attire is part of my life's aspirations.

Then, before I knew it, I had found myself falling down a rabbit hole.

All it takes is one interesting thought for it to later become a rabbit hole, after all.

The rabbit hole of ideas starts below.

Beware: it is an extremely long post and is therefore a deep rabbit hole.

Click "Keep reading" if you're sure you have the time.

Before I begin, I want to get this out of my head first:

While, yes, my brain is where my ideas come from, it is also in the same brain that I hear cynical remarks and comments such as, "Isa, really? Do you really have to smother your ethinicity's culture on pretty much any- and everything you like?"

First of all, bakit, hindi ba pwedeng mag-praktis magbahagi ng kulturang atin sa isang fanmade work bago gawin yun sa sarili kong gawa? [why, can I not practice how to share my culture in a fanmade work before doing that in my own work?] Second of all, Cinderella's story has been retold so many times in different cultures and time periods, but the better known ones are often those from the West (like those shown in the North American films) and the alleged Egyptian Cinderella. I really thought it would be nice to have a Filipino — particularly Tagalog — retelling.

Now, this is where the rabbit hole truly begins; what I just wrote was just me ranting about the cynical voice in my brain trying to discourage me from writing a Tagalog retelling of Cinderella. On that note... human brains are so weird. One would think we're so self-centered that we don't sabotage ourselves like this... but well! That's undiagnosed mental illness, babey!

I decided on having the Tagalog culture and mythos among the thousands of cultures in the Philippines because

I grew up in the Tagalog region (entire Metro Manila/National Capital Region, Regions III, IV-A and IV-B);

The Tagalog people is one of the biggest ethnolinguistic group in the Philippines; and

I just know Tagalog culture better.

Speaking of culture and mythos... there's just so much I could do, and comparing mythos notes with other cultures is always super interesting! Miss Sarah (a.k.a. nitewrighter) had established that Cinderella's fairy godmother came from the hazel tree that Cinderella's father had planted; the writer also established that the godmother was sent by her fellow fairies, so it made me think that there might have been some kind of High Fairy Council or something.

Yeah, we see that, Isa, but what's your culture's version of that?

I present to you: the Engkanto no, not the Disney movie :\ or, as I like to call them, Ang Mga Taong Mahiwaga (transliteration: the mystical/magical people).

The Engkanto were named by my ancestors' Spanish colonizers (GLARES AT SPAIN) because there were way too many mythical races in the Philippines. They were so overwhelmed with the many cultures and associated mythos that these dudes just went, "Ey, no, we are not- we are just calling them 'enchanted.' Boom. That just made our lives easier." Little did they know that their boiling down of our many cultural mythos into just being called "enchanted" was going to make so many future Filipino creatives' lives harder. I am one of them. >:\\\

One of the many mythical races is the diwata. They are guardians of nature, and most cultures within the Philippines use this word to refer to spirits, though some cultures also use this word to refer to gods and deities. They can be benevolent, or mischievous, or downright evil — it may depend on how you treat them first. Better known diwata are the likes of Maria Makiling, Maria Cacao, and Maria Sinukuan, all of which are mountain diwata because they are associated to a mountain (Mount Makiling, Mount Lantoy, and Mount Arayat, respectively).

When you compare the diwata to commonly known Western cultures, they are more similar to the fairies or nymphs, especially in the sense that they are nature spirits/guardians and are associated with certain locations.

Have I mentioned that some engkanto often reside in trees or use trees as their storage chests? It's exactly why when you see big trees — particularly and especially Balete — you say, "Tabi tabi po." It's like saying "excuse me" to the engkanto who may or may not be there in the tree.

Now, with the fairy godmother and the tree out of the way, let's move on to the socio-economic dynamics in my Tagalog retelling! *claps hands*

I've been thinking about having it set in a Spanish era-inspired setting because not only does the 1600-1800s sound fitting, but it is also the time period in which the Filipiniana was the commonly worn everyday attire before the Americans introduced their clothing styles. There's also the socio-economic dynamics of the higher-class Spanish and the mestizo/mestiza (Filipinos mixed with Spanish blood/heritage), and the lower class Filipinos known as indios. Indio was a word the Spaniards used to refer to natives and the indigenous of the Philippines until a negative connotation was attached to it; indio became a word that, if you were to be called one, it meant you were a slave or an idiot. Can you believe my own father used to call me "indio" a lot when I was a kid? No wonder I still self-deprecatingly joke that I'm dumb or whatever.

With that in mind, I like to think that Cinderella's stepmother is a Spanish-Filipino woman, widowed by her late Spanish ex-husband. Cinderella's parents could be mestizo/mestiza too, considering they lived nicely before her mother's death.

I would definitely keep sewing as a hobby and a mother-daughter thing between Cindy and her mom. We used to do a lot of sewing too — heck, three women first sew the Philippine flag as we know it today!

Now, about how Cinderella is oppressed by her own family... I'm not really sure.

...never mind, I'm sure now.

Cinderella was prettier than them and they couldn't accept that.

It's something I picked up in Miss Sarah's telling of the tale; they always depended on their pretty clothes to make themselves pretty, but could never feel confident in themselves without pretty clothes. Cinderella, however, doesn't really think much of her appearance; I like to think that she feels secure in herself enough not to. Besides, creativity also makes her even prettier and more attractive, I think.

Hey, Isa, what about the royalty?

Ay caramba, Inang Maria. Oo nga pala. Medyo makalimutin ako, sori. :P - [in Filipino] Ay caramba, Mother Mary. Right. I'm kind of forgetful, sorry. :P

Hmm.

Hmmmmm.

The closest I can think of for royalty in the Spanish era... is... uh...

(( José Rizal's Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo flashbacks ))

The gobernadorcillo!

The gobernadorcillo was basically the Spanish-era equivalent of today's governors.

That... that is pretty much all I know. :P

The Wikipedia says this, though:

The position of a gobernadorcillo was honorary and mandatory in order to afford him those valid exemptions signified in the Philippine law. At the end of his biennial term he would enter and form part of the principalía, and was entitled to enjoy the honors and preeminence inherent to this state. This "mayor", who was at the same time "justice of the peace" and port captain, was directly responsible to the governor of the province in the exercise of his office.

Can you believe a gobernadorcillo's term only lasts two years? With this much in the job?

Sure would be nice if my brain didn't forget much of El Filibusterismo... *sighs in I can't remember much of my Grade 10 Filipino class :(*

...

...well, I think that's it! I've been holding this train of thought since this morning when it first came to me, so it's a bit of a relief that this post ends here.

I knew this was going to be a rabbit hole, haha. I hope you enjoyed your fall into it, though!

Sources & References —

Squeegool, S. [@squeegool]. 2015, March 16. cinderelly in Filipiniana costume [Tweet]. Twitter. https://twitter.com/squeegool/status/577486180880498689

Tiongson, N.G., Maranan, E.B., Barrios, J., Cruz-Lucero, R., Acuña, A., Cerda, C., ..., Campoamor II, G. (2017). Encyclopedia of Philippine art (2nd ed., Vol. 3, p. 234). Cultural Center of the Philippines in cooperation with the Office of the Chancellor, University of the Philippines, Diliman

Tagalog people. In Wikipedia. Retrieved on 23 March 2022, from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tagalog_people

Philippines - regions and provinces map [map]. Retrieved on 23 March 2022, from https://en.populationdata.net/wp-content/uploads/2019/01/Philippines-regions-provinces.png

Engkanto. In Wikipedia. Retrieved on 23 March 2022, from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Engkanto

Clark, J. (2016, 3 March). The DIWATA of Philippine Mythology: Ancestors, Spirits, & Deities • THE ASWANG PROJECT. The Aswang Project. Retrieved on 23 March 2022 from https://www.aswangproject.com/diwata/

Diwata. In Wikipilipinas. Retrieved on 23 March 2022 from https://en.wikipilipinas.org/view/Diwata

What is indio Filipino? In Answers. Retrieved 23 March 2022 from https://www.answers.com/Q/What_is_indio_Filipino

Gobernadorcillo. In Wikipedia. Retrieved on 23 March 2022 from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gobernadorcillo

#[ 🗣️ | the magical girl speaks ]#thought pieces by the magical girl #cinderella #fairy tale #fairy tale retelling #cinderella retelling #nitewrighter #miss sarah (nitewrighter)#GRABE biruin mo yun. nagsimula ako noong ika-3/ika-4 ng hapon. TAPOS GINABI AKO.#[DAMN can you believe it. i started at around 3/4 pm. THEN IT TOOK ME UNTIL NIGHT.]#TAPOS NAG-EFFORT PA AKO MAG APA CITATION. WAW ISA SANA ALL #[PLUS I TOOK THE EFFORT TO DO APA CITATION. WOW ISA IF ONLY EVERYONE TOO]#ok pagod na ako. magandang gabi sa inyong lahat [ok i'm tired. good evening to all of you]

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wizkiddx · 3 years

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worst case scenario part 3

umm so, never ever intended it to be this long but here we are. again this is v dark so please please read the warning!! also [and obvs] this is very medically inaccurate and just a work of my head aha

[part 1] [part 2]

warning: mentions of death / hospital / mentions of childhood abandonment too- please don't read if this could affect you <3

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His heart was thundering in his chest, so much so it drowned out all other sounds making all the doctors words fade into the background. Conciously, he really was trying to listen to what the doctor was saying; consciously he knew she was trying to prepare him to see Y/n; consciously he knew she knew he wasn’t okay. But really? It didn’t matter, and as they drew closer to his fiancé Tom felt an urgent sense of relief purely know she was there. She was there and she wasn’t dead…yet.

Only two people were allowed to go up, just because the nature of the ward - everything was meticulously controlled, including the comings and goings of visitors. If you’ve never been in an ICU it’s a pretty hard environment to describe. Really, it’s just another hospital ward, with capacity of about 20 beds. Each bed has much more equipment surrounding that the average and a nurse is stationed per patient, monitoring every possible variable that the machienes are measuring, so any trend (either positive or negative) can be identified at the earliest point. Though in everyones head, it seems as though ICU is a common place ending up for some unfortunate sod when something bad happens, it’s actually really rare for someone to be so ill and dependant on medicine to maintain normal body functioning. Only the most severe trauma, infection of the most dangerous microorganism, surgery of such high stakes normally make an appearance on the ward. And ,on average, between 8-20% patients that are admitted to an ICU never make it out.

And those grim figures were unignorable to anyone. As soon as you walk through the doors, the atmosphere is intense and ineffable. It’s not spoken, but is so incredibly morbid it makes anyone shiver.

Dom felt this, squeezing his sons shoulder as he followed Tom and the doctor, just a pace or so behind them. Having offered to go with Tom, whilst Harrison took Nikki to see the baby, Dom was now feeling just as clueless as his son did. Except he was actually listening to what the doctor was trying to warn them about and it scared him. The three, made it to the door and with a swipe of her ID card the doctor admitted the Holland men in. Gratefully, none of the staff took any notice of who was walking in, they were much too busy for that - Dom was incredibly relieved, had someone recognised Tom when he was in this state, god knows what would’ve happened.

The doctors pace was with purpose, perhaps so that the two couldn’t spend too long ogling the other patients in the beds - who all looked almost unhuman with the amount of tubes and wires coming out and into them. But then, she slowed up, halting infront of a bay about 5 or 6 down the ward. Spinning on her heel and with a subtle nod to momentarily release the nurse from her post at Y/n’s bedside, to give them a bit of privacy, she looked at the two men.

“You can touch her, just be gentle with the wires.”

Shellshocked and terrified, Tom was frozen those 2 metres away from the bed barely able to see her face over all the equipment. Yet undoubtedly, it was his finance’s delicate visage lying on the white pillow, with a thick white mouthpiece and tube covering her mouth and stuffed into her nose. Not able to move, both Dom and Dr Goodwell sensitively waited - it was an adjustment to say the least, seeing someone you knew so well look so different. With quiet tears starting to roll down his eyes, Tom eventually started to inch toward the bedside, taking his time to try and absorb everything of this frankly ridiculous situation. He couldn’t get over how, even considering it all, above her nose it just looked like Y/n. Like she was asleep in their bed, eyes closed as if she had once again fallen asleep infront of a random Netflix movie Tom had bugged her enough to watch in bed. And it was, ever so slightly comforting. That was still her, that was still the love of his life lying there. And she was still alive - which given the last few hours, was enough.

Reaching the bedside, Tom naturally reached out and stroked the top of her head delicately, pulling into place a few rogue strands that seemed to have a mind of their own - she had always hated when her hair got frizzy. The picture had Tom’s mind casting back to their first holiday, a serene if quick few days in Fiji- though Y/n didnt know this , that holiday had been one of the most important times in their relationship for Tom. Until then, given the nature of his job, the couple had only ever managed brief periods together. They spent time together as and when they could in between Tom’s busy schedule but it was never as long as they’d like. Somehow though, he’d managed to squeeze a few days away to surprise Y/n with the trip.

It was everything he’d ever hoped it would be and more. In fact it was then Tom was oh so sure he would be spending the rest of his life with her. This thought crossed his mind on the last morning, when he had for once woken up before Y/n - her head mere cms away from his on the pillow. Just like now, her hair had been all over the place and her sparkling green eyes locked shut. Contrastingly though, in Fiji the sight had made him smile softly; now it just made him cry again.

“Would you like a minute alone Mr Holland? We will just wait outside?” Not even turning round to properly respond to the doctor, Tom just nodded violently, not taking his eyes off his fiancé - waiting till he heard his Dad and the doctor leave the bay; then the curtains be completely drawn to a close, before he shakily cleared his throat to whisper.

“Hey darling… you um-you’ve scared me shitless today… and… and I’m supposed to be the dramatic one in the relationship.” Chuckling wetly, Tom clasped his other hand in Y/n’s - still mindful of the IV port coming out of the top of her wrist. Not that he was expecting any sort of response, yet the lack of her squeezing his hand back still had his heart sink. “Look I…I love you so bloody much and I really need you to get better okay? You’ve never listened to me before but I really am begging you to now, I just.” Swallowing thickly, he shut his eyes momentarily and delicately rested his forehead on hers - his touch feather light. Just needing to feel her. “I just really need you and I really love you., okay?”

Unsurprisingly he didn’t get a response. The rhetorical question hung in the air alone, safe the mechanical whir of the ventilator and various chimes of the machines and monitor, till his Dad came in. Grasping and squeezing his shoulder lightly, Dom provided the stimulus for his son to unfold from over the bed, standing upright, as both men just took in the sight of Y/n lying there for a minute or two.

“I need her Dad. I-I-“

“I know Tom.” Speaking so quietly it was barely audible, Dom’s eventual agreement at what Tom was saying was in a way a relief. Haz and his mum had both either been saying or implying that they would be okay no matter what - which came from a good place but was so infuriating. Because god forbid, if this situation got worse Tom knew it wouldn’t be okay. Nothing would ever be okay again. So his Dad’s simple acknowledgment meant a lot, causing Tom to turn round and embrace his slightly shorter father.

Dr Goodwell silently watched the exchange for a short while and once the men eventually pulled away she stepped forward to give some more information. She went through what all the biggest and scary looking tubes and wires were doing for Y/n, before explaining the next steps.

“Now as I said before we are sedating her at the moment, while we wait and see if she gets any complications from the surgery that are better treated while she is asleep. By this afternoon we will have a clearer idea and by that point we may choose to withdraw that sedation. It’s important that you are aware though that she might not wakeup immediately. Sometimes some people that have suffered similarly to your fiancé will be unconscious for a while in what I’d presume you’ve heard of as a ‘coma’. Now it’s not as dramatic as you see on TV shows, it’s just Ms Y/l/n’s brain giving her body a chance to recover. It’s often a longer process, which I know is something you don’t want to hear, but I have to be honest.” The doctor was stern but in a softer and from-a-caring-place. “These patients are suggested to possibly recover quicker if they have a steady support network behind them, which it seems like she does. That means that you need to look after yourself so you can help her sir, especially in what could be a long process. It’s not going to be helpful for Yn if you’re killing yourself trying to be here all the time… It seems like Y/n already has quite a big group of you here for her, so please remember you’ve got all of her care team here and everyone else to help you too….Does that make sense sir?”

“Tom” His Dad, in a gentle but firm warning tone, urged Tom to speak and to listen. Properly listen.

“Yeh… I-yeh It’s just all a lot right now.”

“Of course… and we promise that if anything changes with her condition, you will be phoned straight away. You are welcome to stay as long as you want - the only rules are two at a time, no flowers, sign in and out and then sanitise your hands pretty excessively. If you need anything, Ms Y/l/n’s nurse will be your first port of call.”

“Thanks for everything” Dom nodded in a gracious manner, which the doctor seemed to massively appreciate - apparently, for the job they do not receiving a hell of a lot of thanks.

“I’ll pop back in a little bit.”

And for a couple of hours everything everything felt like a bit of an anticlimax, nothing happened, not a lot changed. Just Tom and Dom sat next to Y/n’s bed in silence; Harrison and Nikki downstairs with the baby, till Dom got a phone call from Nikki asking them to meet at the neonatal unit - which was limited by visitor numbers unlike the ICU. Thinking it’d be simple, the elder man gained Tom’s attention with a call of his name, explaining they should go down to meet up.

“I’m not going down there.”

“Son, I know you’re worried by Y/n isnt going anywhere right now. The doctors said they’d call you if anything happens.”

“It’s not-“ Tom stopped himself, biting his tongue and looking away from his Dad. “I just don’t want to go down there.” Slowly, Dom was more and more realising Tom’s thought process and honestly… it scared him. In the hopes this was just a big misunderstanding he offered a different option - hoping Tom would equally refuse that. Dom suggested going down to the cafe instead, which most unfortunately Tom agreed to. It wasn’t leaving Y/n that was the issue, it was being near the baby.

Tom’s daughter. Unnamed and apparently abondoned by both parents.

Anyhow, Dom resigned to playing into Tom’s choice, perhaps Nikki and Harrison would be able to swing him round, to see sense. It still took Tom getting the nurse to triple check they had his correct number on record , just in case, before Dom could tear him away from the bed. Fortunately the pair found a quiet and secluded corner table, where Tom was still yet to be recognised, while Nikki and Haz found them too.

What followed was Tom answering all his mum and Harrison’s questions about Y/n’s condition, in a blunt and emotionless manner - without Tom returning fire by asking any questions at all about his beautiful little baby girl. Eventually Nikki braved it, someone had to bring it up.

“Well it sounds like littles going to change for a while… maybe you should head home for a bit? You’ve been up half the night and you look shattered love. You don’t have to go back to yours… you could stay in your old room for a bit?” Tom being by himself at the moment sounded like the most incredibly stupid idea ever, Nikki was offering it as a choice - when in reality there was only one option.

“Maybe later this evening I will? Just don’t want to leave her alone yet.”

“It’s already 7 love, you’ve not eaten all day, you got to look after yourself too.” Harrison and Dom sat awkwardly while Nikki tried to delicately encourage Tom into what was the only sensible plan, watching him nurse the small hot choclate in both his palms. Time really had lost all meaning at this point, for him it felt both years since he’d first arrived with Y/n and at the same time barely 10 minutes ago. It felt weird.

“We can take shifts? If-if you want someone with her I mean… I don’t mind staying for a bit longer if it means you head back to your parents.” Harrison really truly didnt mind, in fact he sort of wanted to. He wanted to see Y/n’s face definitely alive, wanted to feel reassured by the monitors. Shockingly, Tom slowly nodded his head, surprising everyone with his lack of argument. None of them could work out whether it was a good thing him not putting up much arguement ; either he was heeding everyones advice of taking care of himself - or he had just given up. Harrison, as much as he didn’t want to, was favouring the latter.

“Okay” Nikki declared optimistically “So maybe you and Harrison go up so you can say good night to Y/n, then we can all go and pick up the baby?” She opened the plan to the floor, allowing for input but got nothing - except maybe Tom’s jaw unconsciously tensing uncomfortable at the latter part of her statement. Dom noticed.

Not one noticed but knew what it meant. His son blamed his granddaughter. His son, right now in that moment, hated the unnamed and totally helpless baby girl.

part 4?

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #dad!tom #tomholland #tom holland angst

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weclassygirl · 4 years

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𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

Word count: 936

Pairing: neil x f!reader (tenet)

Warnings: none

Author’s note: yes i’m back and i’ll keep coming back with more short neil fics. english is not my first language. hope you enjoy!

Gif credits (x)

The air on the balcony was chilly, you could feel goosebumps on your skin through the robe you're wearing. It's well past midnight and you couldn't quite fall asleep. You stand there, looking at the city below, some cars passing by, people walking in groups or alone.

You hear the door to the balcony sliding open. You don't turn your head to see the intruder but from the side of your vision you see Neil standing next to you, a cup of what seems like tea in his hands.

"Can't sleep?" he wonders and gives you a side glance, you shrug.

"My mind won't let me." you answer him. “Just too much going on.” you look at the city, the lights of the high buildings still on in some places. You wonder who might be in them.

You couldn’t rest for the whole day, going from one place to another, contacting Ives all day, helping Neil on some work. You couldn’t seem to stop. When you tried to get some sleep your thoughts wouldn’t let you, they just kept overthinking every possible scenario of the next day. The mission you’re gonna go to is the biggest one yet. You don’t even know how it will play out. You hope that it’ll go well.

Neil sees you deep in thought and notices how you keep tightening your robe for some sense of warmth. He puts the mug on the table and goes to the chair behind him, picking up a blanket from it. He places it on your smaller frame and at first you tense but then turn in his direction. He tightens the blanket around you and when he’s finished with it he looks at you. His eyes heavy and slightly bloodshot through sleepless nights. You relax as he still keeps his hands on your shoulders, you smile up at him lazily.

“What?” he asks, smiling at you, eyebrows drawn together.

“Nothing, just…” you look down at your feet, trying to find the right words. You look up at him and he seems standing closer to you, you notice his eyes briefly travelling to your lips. If you would just inch closer to him then… “Do you ever think where you would be if you weren’t involved in all of this?”

He doesn’t hesitate with the answer. “Probably something to do with physics.” you know that he’s really passionate about it, you saw him writing a bunch of notes with diagrams, equations and such just a few days ago. Sometimes you even came over to his workspace and let him ramble what’s on his mind or explain to you some physics. You watched as he explained everything and he watched you being truly interested in the topic he spoke about.

Both of you know that you can’t really reveal anything remotely personal about yourself, you’re not even sure Neil is his real name. You wish that you would have been able to get to know him better, even for a few moments. You rely on each other, trust one another. You wish that it could be more and you feel like he wants that too.

“How about you?” he questions you. You think for a moment, you haven’t really thought about it. You look towards the city and sigh.

“I don’t know. Maybe travel the world.”

“You already do.” he comments.

“Yeah but you know what I mean.” you turn to him the cup no longer in his hands. He raises his eyebrow at you. “I want to see it without worrying about some unexpected inversion or another mission. I want to see it in its whole beauty, enjoy it and not have memories with it that tie to my job.”

“Not even if I’m in most of them?” he asks with playfulness in his voice. You smile at him.

“Of course I want you in them. Maybe when all of this is over we could go on some sort of vacation.” you tell him, some form of hope in your voice.

“Just you and me?”

“Always.” you say simply and see him coming closer to you. He reaches his hand up to your cheek and traces his thumb over it. He leans in closer, his face inches away from yours and he puts a soft kiss on your lips. It’s short but sweet, both of you are tired but if you had more energy you would try to deepen it. He pulls away, your body moving after his, the desire to kiss him again rising.

“Long day ahead.” you hear Neil say, you look up at him and see the city lights bouncing off of his eyes. “You should rest.”

“Says you.” you chuckle. You see his hair sticking out in every direction. His shirt crumpled up and sleeves rolled up. “When’s the last time you got some decent sleep, Neil?”

He hangs his head low and scoffs. “Is it that visible?” he smiles lazily at you, already knowing the answer. You head to the door, push them open and look over your shoulder. “You coming?”

He looks at you, taken back by you for a second. Not in the shirts or bulletproof vest you constantly wear but in casual clothing, the ones that you feel the most comfortable in. Your true beauty that you so rarely show, your features softened, your shoulders not so tense anymore. Just… you. Neil is pulled away from his thoughts when you take his hand in yours and lead him to the apartment. Both of you fall asleep in each other's arms, falling asleep much faster together than apart.

#neil x reader tenet #tenet #neil tenet #robert pattinson tenet #robert pattinson #i'm actually planning a miniseries that intertwines with the movie #just need to rewatch it #and deffo take some notes #hope you enjoy #take care #let me know what you think

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poptod · 3 years

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The Breeding Kings, pt. 13, (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: Victim.

Notes: oh man. ohohoh man. i feel something Very Powerful in my chest rn. also i wrote this a while ago ive been working on the 17th or 18th part i dont remember but that ones almost done too so im very much embroiled in babylonian studies rn so thats fun WC: 4.2k

A heavy, drawn out sigh left him as he stretched his hands to the sky, the tired vestiges of sleep still trailing after him since he arose from the blanket. You were still fast asleep, as the sun had yet to rise and you only ever easily woke when there was a light shined on your face. Ahk, who was usually like that as well,had been awakened by many of the travellers setting up their fires and packing up their beds. Like yesterday, you would leave as soon as possible.

Since you were beside the water, he decided to wander around the campsite for a little while, and see if he could borrow the campfires from others to heat up the tough meat that softened with heat. He passed by Batnoam and Abdhamon discussing something quietly in the back of their white fort, as well as a larger group of people from Assyria, followed by one from Cyprus, and tucked away in a far corner of the flora, people from Egypt. He stopped dead.

He could barely hear them from behind his vantage point in the bush. They could recognize him––he'd kept low thus far, but his identity could be revealed at any point, and there was no knowing how everyone would react. You would probably feel betrayed, and he didn't blame you for that. Strangers might be awed or disgusted.

"... seven feet from me, little bastard," he heard one of them say, followed by sleepy chuckles.

"Never been to Kush," another said through a mouthful of food. "Everyone like that there?"

"Might as well be," the first muttered.

Ahkmen left after that.

When he returned to you, you were awake, just barely having sat up. You grinned as he jogged over, plopping down next to you.

"Hungry?" He asked, already reaching for the food bag.

"No," you said with a sigh, mimicking how he'd stretched earlier. "But we need to."

"Right you are," he said as he pulled out a new slice of twice-baked bread, unwrapping it from the white cloth. "Oh, I forgot about these."

"What is it?" You asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Just some nuts. It'll be good to have while we're moving, so... save that for later," he said.

"Okay."

In the middle of your tiny meal, Batnoam called everyone over to help with the purification of the water, a request that interested both you and Ahk. You stood and stuffed your food into your pockets before jogging over, Ahk at your side.

"Biggest pots we have, everyone," he said, lugging out a pot of his own from the tent.

It was about half the man's height, which was saying something, as Batnoam was even taller than Ahk. Water from the oasis pond sloshed inside, and Ahk soon noticed the filtered out dirt and mud tossed aside in a wet heap. His nose shrivelled up.

"I don't think we have any pots," Ahk whispered to you.

"I know we do not," you said.

"What – oh, there," he interrupted himself, catching the eye of a few people attempting to dip a large, clay vase into the pond.

Ahkmen ran over to help, as you did, but of the two of you only he could be helpful. The vase was nearly as tall as you were, but Ahk could easily lift it and aided the strangers at the cost of wet feet and sandals.

"Thanks, mister," one of them grunted out, still straining with the pot's weight.

"Don't mention it," he said.

The three men––including Ahk––lead the pot over the main tent, using the same filtering system three times before it was considered cleansed enough. After that it was set on the fire, yet another cleansing tactic Ahk had never heard of. Since boiling took a little while, Ahk went back to help more people, and he caught you on the edge of his eye, helping a couple people with smaller pots.

Once everyone's flasks were equally refilled, the camels were loaded, and you left the oasis behind, the watering hole noticeably lower and the land scattered with campfires. You couldn't've really done anything about it, but you still felt a twinge of guilt leaving it in such a state of disarray.

Rocks and sand gave way to dunes you stumbled through, catching your feet on your own footsteps melting into the ground. You kept your hands occupied with a walking stick that aided in balancing yourself throughout the day.

In the afternoon the caravan paused in the shadow of a tall dune, resting aching legs and bruised heels. Ahk could feel his skin cracking open with the dry wind, and despite having walked all day in dreadful heat, he could have no more than a couple swallows of water at any one time. By now his complexion must've been horrible––not the most important topic at the time, but he couldn't help but remembered the oils and soft soaps of his home, and how freckled, burnt, and dirtied he must seem now compared to the refined image he had before.

In fact, part of him was sure that if he'd met himself a year ago––or not even that much, considering he met you only six or so months ago––his younger self would think he was a peasant. Even his hands had changed, the short, tidy nails and clean palms giving way for cuts, smears of sweat and dust, dirt beneath his once white nails, and hardened skin growing in the shape of his knife curled in his fist.

The moment before you left that morning, Ahk managed to catch a thick block of wood hiding beneath the underbrush. Most likely it came from part of a falling tree, or was left behind by other groups, but either way Ahk decided to make it an opportunity. He once more put his knife to use––at the risk of dulling it quite a lot––to carve the wood. First experimenting with how it worked, how the wood bent and sliced with the knife, he whittled it down to a smaller size that he now had to make into something. As he walked alongside you he worked, chuckling when you tried to see what he was doing.

"What do you think I will do?" You finally asked after having failed to pull his elbow away.

"That's not the point, it's a surprise, darling," he said, tucking it away in the camel's bag to his left.

"Do not call me dawdling, when I do not know what it is meaning," you huffed, pouting as you crossed your arms.

"You'll find out soon," he assured you. He had to bite his cheek to keep from smiling, still holding the totem out of your eyesight.

Only a few more seconds of silence passed before someone interrupted from behind him.

"What kind of, uh, of wood is zhat?" He asked, piping up in a quietly dignified, though very accented, voice.

"Oh, I – I don't know," Ahk stuttered out, shrugging.

"Ah. Vell, if it is ze.. lighter colored wood, then you are more likely to, uh, cut yourself. I would be careful," he said as he pointed to the wood in his hands.

"I'm sorry, who are you? I don't think we've met," Ahk said, turning to walk backwards while facing the stranger. You glanced at him before looking behind you as well.

"My name is, uh, Makko. I am from the Assyrian group?" He said as he pointed over his shoulder. "Ve have been travelling with Abdhamon for... couple weeks by now, I would think."

"Aganu," Ahk introduced himself with a short bow. "Only been here since we left Jericho."

"Ahh, you are not.. part of the, uh, soldiers, from Egypt?" Makko asked.

"No, I'm just from there," Ahk chuckled.

"I am Yogi, from Harappa," you said, placing your hand on your chest with a small bow.

"Nice to meet you both," Makko said with a nod. "The, uh... I vould be wary, if I were you, of Nassor. He is up there with them."

He tilted his chin out to gesture vaguely to the groups bringing up the front of the pack. You and Ahk turned, facing the only travellers between you and Abdhamon––the Egyptians.

"Who is he?" You asked, squinting your eyes as you lifted yourself to the tips of your toes.

"He is ze tall one, with the shaved head."

Sure enough, the tallest one had a shaved head, his dark skin a black canvas against the unrelenting brightness of the desert sky. He carried a spear in one hand that acted as a walking stick, only much larger to accommodate his size. While he did seem to be a part of the conversation shared between the other Egyptians, he didn't show many emotions, and kept a permanent knot in his brow.

"Hm. What's so bad about him?" Ahk asked, though he was already concerned based purely off the stature of the man.

"He's a soldier, from Egypt," Makko said quietly. "Says he worked at ze.. the Palace."

Ahk could physically feel the blood draining from his face. He'd never heard of any soldier called Nassor, but he rarely knew the names of his guards, a fault of his that he was beginning to deeply regret. A deep breath coursed through his wavering body.

"I do not trust them," he heard you saying to Makko. "Any of the – the people, at the palace in Egypt. That is why I am leaving."

"Really?" Makko adjusted the bags on his back. "What is your experience with them?"

Your voice faded out as you went into details. He knew what happened. He knew you would blame him if you ever knew his name, and the sound of Makko's replies remained hidden in that same haze, ringing in his ears and eyes nailed to the ground. In fact, he didn't return to any semblance of socialization till the evening began to settle in, early dusk dipping the land into shadows.

You still walked at his side, your thumbs resting on the straps of your bags and Sephys attempting to headbutt you from the camel's back, to little avail. You giggled and he was raised out of the tar pits, sticky ink dripping away if only to see you. He bit his cheek.

"Have you actually ever met any of the royal family?" Ahk asked you quietly, walking closer to you than what was strictly necessary.

"I had seen the Pharaoh," you said, nodding slowly as you tried to remember. "One, I did see a prince."

His breath halted.

"He is... old, and... bitter," you murmured.

"Must've been Kamun," Ahk said with a long sigh.

"Kamun?"

"He's the oldest Prince. Rather violent, too," he explained shortly.

"I know that," you said. "He made me to clean his feet."

"He did what?"

Upon hearing that, Ahk immediately wanted nothing more than to travel all the way back to Egypt, back down to Memphis, and up to his brother's room to smack the living shit out of him.

"Do not be angry," you said quickly.

"Oh, it's not your fault," he said, groaning. "Just wish I could... help, or... beat the hell out of him."

You giggled, your hand coming up to cover your mouth.

"He is a man who is good for that."

Batnoam had to stop the caravan eventually despite Abdhamon wishing to continue onwards. There was no oasis, no rocks, only the dunes that built upon each other and came crashing down in waves of sand whenever the wind blew. You chose the valley of the tallest dune to set up against, hiding the horizon beneath the hills' edges so that all that existed was the midnight sky.

The large, white tent once more stood, stakes pounded deep into the shifting earth. Camels surrounded the shelter, as did other, smaller shelters, crowding around Abdhamon's tent. As usual you and Ahk went to find a more private space before the call of your names stopped you from leaving.

"Ahk! Yogi!"

Makko, cross-legged in a circle of others, waved you over. You looked to each other, shrugging before you followed his call.

Your bags thudded to the ground as you approached and, seeing the rather nice carpet set out, you removed your shoes as well, but the bandages still remained around yours and Ahk's ankles and heels. Glancing around the group you knelt in the widest gap, and Ahk sidled in next to you best he could. You gave him an odd look to which he responded with a grin.

There were only four other people you didn't know sitting on the carpet, though it was clear their group was a little larger than simply the five of them. Makko told them your names before he let them introduce themselves.

"I am Khawa," one of the women said, reaching forward a freckled hand, her fingertips stained with ash. You both shook her hand.

"My name is Eshai," another man said, his hands also stained with ash. At that point you glanced down to check the fingers of everyone there, only to be surprised that it was only them.

"Shirat," said the other woman, waving thin fingers before tucking them back in her long, black robes.

"I am Caifas," said a man with a small bow of his head.

"Nice to meet you all," Ahk said once he was done shaking everyone's hand, a behavior that he slipped into unconsciously, since he'd been taught to do so since birth.

"So, what are you going for?" You asked before silence could fall.

"Commission of the King," Khawa said, her voice soft but stern as she tended the fire. "Can you speak anything but Egyptian? I'm afraid my troupe don't... study foreign languages."

"Oh, um..." you glanced to Ahk, "I do speak Harappan, but I do not know..."

"I speak Sumerian but that's about it," he admitted rather awkwardly.

"Sumerian?" Khawa asked, her back straightening as she cocked an eyebrow in his direction.

Sweat ran a shiver down the back of his neck, tightening his throat.

"My father was a priest in Egypt," he lied. "Made sure I got a good education."

"Useless too. No one speaks Sumerian anymore," Makko said, his mouth half-full of the fried rice cooked in the pot once hanging over their fire.

"Really? What do you all speak then?" Ahk asked inquisitively.

"Akkadian, mostly. Shirat and Makko speak Greek," Khawa said, gesturing with her fire-poking stick to Makko, then to Shirat sitting across from him.

"That is only for my singing," Shirat said quietly.

"But you do know some," you pointed out. Her shoulders raised tight as her face flushed.

"A little," she mumbled.

"You two would do well to learn some actually useful languages, if you're going to be travelling like this," Khawa interrupted, now pointing the smudged fire stick at you.

"We're only travelling down to Harappa. It shouldn't take us much more than a month by now, I'd think," Ahk said, quick to defend himself and you.

"What do you think we should know?" You asked instead, leaning inward to the older woman, who gave a wrinkled smile at your eagerness.

"In the west it is better to know Greek, or Phoenician. They are trading languages, so many people know them. Out here it's better to know Akkadian. It's... a more informal version of Sumerian and Assyrian," she said with much clarity in her tone.

"Where'd you learn all these languages, then?" Ahk asked.

"Throughout my life. I was a trader when I was younger, as were my parents, so... it was important to know a little bit about everything," she answered, raising her flask for a swallow of water. "I know Egyptian, Akkadian, Phoenician, and Sumerian. Akkadian best, though."

Ahk almost voiced yet another question, but decided it'd be best if he kept a little more quiet. To learn such a variety of things without the aid of a professional learning system seemed hard––too hard for him to want to bother, but too important for him to ignore entirely. Besides, you seemed entertained by the thought of assimilating in that small way.

He didn't need to become fluent, he told himself––just know enough words to get by, ask for directions, and thank for favors. He did feel rather disappointed, though, that the language his father told him was essential was nothing more than a relic.

While he got some of the food that Makko so kindly offered to him, you began to talk in soft voices with the woman next to you, who he believed was named Shirat, though he wasn't sure. As he sat back down in his spot, a bowl of steaming, essentially-fresh-as-long-as-he-didn't-think-about-it food, he remembered suddenly his bitterness to Batnoam. He was much like the people Ahk had just met, and didn't deserve much of the shortness he'd gotten from Ahk.

The thought of that bubbled down his mood, but you giggled and he could feel himself returning, quietly introducing himself into the conversation between Khawa and Eshai. As it turned out, Eshai was a practicing Magi from the city of Uruk that had, for a time, made money from the incense trade, buying the raw materials from traders and shaping it into useable products, which explained the ash on his hands.

From what he could hear, your conversation with Shirat had less to do with business, and more to do with your hobbies which, he later realized, was Shirat's business. Musicians––he never thought them to be the most remarkable, or the most important jobs in the world (however he always thought of them as necessary), but the dire need of the human species to connect with others could always be soothed through music, and thus was something he revered in the empty desert. If Ahk climbed up the tallest dune on the clearest night, where every star shone in the sky and he could see the craters on the dark side of the moon, he would still be able to see no more than sand dunes stretching endlessly forever.

But hidden away in the crevices of golden peaks, listening to Shirat teach you how to properly hold the lute in your left hand and the reverberating tones, that was forever contained. Controlled infinity, lasting for all time in the smoldering embers of the fire.

It didn't take much for a sudden quiet to fall over not only the one fire, but the neighboring ones as well, before the shuffling of fabric and the joining of flutes began. Drums and rattles came from the Egyptians holding their campfire far away, and harps from the Greeks. Shirat, who barely had the confidence to speak her own name before, stood with her massive lute and gave them the tune to be played. Slowly more and more instruments were added till music and rhythm pounded throughout the sprawling camp, bringing a chuckle to Ahk as you stood, grinning brightly.

"Aganu, come," you said, offering him your hand. He took it and you helped him up. "It is not all days that we see so many.. people of music."

"Musicians," he said.

"Etuvaka."

"What does that even mean?" He asked, remembering having heard it several times by now.

"You would want to know, pretty boy," you said with the same, starstruck smile as you swayed to the song. He joined the rhythm thoughtlessly.

"I know, that's why I asked," he said, helpless to smile every time you did.

"In time, Aganu. Now, what was it, the thing you did make today?" You asked as you stepped in closer.

"The what?"

"With the knife!"

"Oh, that. It's not finished yet. I'm afraid I'm not very good with a knife," he said.

"But you are good with hands, they do things," you attempted, only succeeding in making him laugh.

"They certainly do... things," he chuckled, keeling over partway.

"Do not laugh!" You huffed.

"How do you know I have good hands? I've never done anything remotely complicated in front of you," he said as he took your hands, beginning to guide you in a duet's melody.

"Well, I..." you trailed off, reluctant to meet his eye and even more reluctant to follow his lead.

"You what?" He asked quietly, leaning down and forcing you to return his gaze.

"I only see your hands, they are.. good... uh.."

He tried not to laugh as you continued.

"... strong, or.. warm," you mumbled.

"But they're not like yours," he said in a voice deep enough to roll into your chest, heating your rapidly beating heart. Your eyes darted up.

"What are you saying?"

"You actually need yours, for your beer, and your potions.. hell, the metallurgy too, even. If I went home without hands, nothing would change for me. I never use my hands for anything," he murmured, all too aware of his fingertips running down the length of your palm, down your own fingers and twisting into the gaps inbetween, filling the empty space with tight warmth.

"Mmm." The music around you softened and crickets faded back in, and something drew you closer, till your head was set perfectly beneath his chin. "You did get us out of the Nile."

He recalled the blisters and splinters on his palms from rowing, and the bandages he had yet to remove.

"I suppose so."

"What ze hell are you two talking about?" Makko interrupted, a confused look of vague disgust on his face as he looked up at both of you.

"I think they were talking about each others' hands," Khawa said dryly.

"Zhat is not what I meant and you know it," Makko said, casting a glare back at her.

"I forget we aren't alone sometimes," Ahk whispered to you, making you giggle and raise your hand to cover your mouth, only to find he still had his fingers entwined in yours.

"Oh, sorry," you mumbled as you quickly untangled yourself from him.

You both heard a scoff, one that you both ignored.

Later in the evening, as the music digressed back to Shirat plucking her lute, you and Ahk took up your bags once more and headed off to find a place to sleep. Makko offered for you to sleep next to their fire, but both of you silently desired to spend quieter hours with one another. So you found a spot on the edge of camp, quickly set up your tarp and blanket, and collapsed next to each other.

"I like Makko," you said after several minutes of pleasant silence.

"Why??" Ahk asked, already feeling offended.

"He is a little mean," you giggled, turning to look up at him, your cheek pressed to the carpet beneath you.

"Is that why you like me, then?"

"No, you are just stupid."

"Oh, great. Thanks."

You giggled again and his fake discontent fell away for a smile.

"Go to sleep, Yogasundari."

When you awoke in your dreams to a world whose sky glowed a dim pink and red, you were at the riverside. Probably the Nile––just much smaller. Tall reeds rustled in the gentle current of the moving water, the muddy edge occupied by a few small turtles and a curious looking bird. You could see none of it, hear none of it, nor smell it, but you could feel the overwhelming warmth of summer evenings riddled with humidity.

Someone sat beside you, faceless and voiceless but clutching their legs to their chest. Their back was bent over and shrivelled, but within that form you felt a great movement––pity, or compassion, bringing your hand to softly brush their cheek. No eyes, no nose. Crying.

A horrible shriek curdled the air, forcing you to sit up wide awake, choking on your breath. Ahk shot up no more than a second later, clutching his chest. The humid warmth of the Nile made way for the cool, dry winds of the desert, and the stranger beside you was Ahkmen once more.

Ahk pulled you to your feet, the both of you struggling to stand after becoming tangled in your clothes and the blanket beneath you. Many of the travellers were already gathered in the white tent, where the shout had originated, meaning you had to glance over the heads and shoulders of the strangers to try and get a look at what was happening. Murmurs spread rampant through the onlookers.

"What is happening?" You asked, urgent and soft as you tugged at Ahk's arm. You couldn't see a thing through the people.

"I'm not sure," he murmured, caught between trying to see in front of him, and meeting your eye in hopes of finding comfort both within you and within himself.

Another broken cry and the conversation continued, heightening into worried tones that brought about words sending a pit into Ahk's stomach. Whispers of who did this and who is next.

In hopes of seeing the action, you jogged to the edge of the crowds, gasping when you finally saw what happened. Both your hands shot up to cover your mouth, your eyes gaping and twisted with horror.

Abdhamon in a pool of blood.

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

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jojounerd · 4 years

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obey me sinblings as volleyball players

i saw this and ive been sitting on the idea for like a while now so might as well get my thoughts out now. check out all of @obaby-obeyme‘s comics theyre so good snsnsfks

Lucifer (S)

perma stressed in practice, not only does he have to juggle his regular work, he has to wrangle all his brothers and keep the order to make sure that it goes smoothly. without everyone goofing off.

i mean,,, coordinating the attacks is a setter’s job. and they get to touch the ball a lot. do u think lucifer would take sets from anyone else? no i think not.

also a really strong server. loud, high velocity, and a nasty spin that makes it go straight to the ground.

ull never see this man dive after the ball hes the setter yknow so he trusts his team to bring the ball to him with a smooth pass.

ok wait maybe he might trust satan to handle attacks but not always.

there was a game where the opponents had super analyzed lucifer’s strategy and would keep shutting down his sets, while beel was doin p good he didn’t want to overexert him and he started rushing his sets

satan wasn’t having any of it and called lucifer out on it. said that they needed to switch it up.

and boy was the opponent in for a new kind of hell. when you put this boy on the offense-

he’s daring you to try and block him. but face it, you Can’t. this boy is a Monster.

Mammon (L)

uhhh was abt to put him as mb, and go on some spiel where lucifer sets to him a lot bcs mammon has the speed to keep up w his tosses

but thinking abt it more,,, having him as libero makes sense. bcs hes the shortest–*mcshot*

got the best fuggin control. those receives *chefs kiss* perfection. the arc, the parabola HGNNN.

has the speed and agility to go after really far out balls and save them with his leg/foot. has definitely jumped into the crowd/over a barrier for a receive multiple timess.

hes the guy who gets ragged on the most during practices (bcs lucifer wants perfect a-receives like wth lucifer you’ve got like 5 other receivers--) but he also hypes up everyone when team spirit’s are down during a game.

Leviathan (MB)

super analytical of his opponents, can quickly pinpoint weak spots in their defense.

doesn’t get fooled by time delay attacks or pipes.

hes more quiet and sometimes forgets to communicate when hes focusing really hard on the match.

he’s that kind of blocker who makes you feel like you can only spike a certain way in order to not get caught by the block

imagine you’re avoiding his block so you go for a cross court spike but you just spiked it right to mammon. oof.

but he does get p tilted when hes not performing at his best or when he gets tooled (his biggest pet peeve as a blocker because that’s not fair the blockers are there to stop the ball from crossing the net but no apparently you can also use the blockers as a way to score points thats plain unfair.) and can sometimes beat himself up p badly. his bros are there to snap him out of it and focus on the game.

Satan (MB)

during practice (and even during some games) he likes to experiment with different lineups and switch up player positions. as a result hes got p rounded out skills.

i mean,,, it just kinda makes sense. he seems like the kind of player who could easily deduce where the ball’s going to go. the one who times the three-man blocks.

bro he does not hold back at all when he spikes. even if he’ll be blocked. he will try to spike through. and the scary thing is,,, the more worked up he is, the harder his spikes get.

for the most part tho p solid all around, sometimes even sets (when lucifer’s in a bad spot see above)

that cheeky mb who’d make scathing remarks to the other team if they make rudimentary mistakes. things like calling their blocks a sieve stuff like that.

if u somehow manage to piss him off during a game good luck his spikes are now 10x harder rip to your arms.

Asmodeus (WS)

during practices hes the type of player who would do a spin and a twirl right before serving the ball. does it during practices, has done it during actual matches.

has a fanclub and they show up during practices and theyre so fuggin noisy--- but he revels in the attention

theres a certain flair and grace in his movements that you just cant help but get drawn in. but oop- dont get distracted bcs oop he was just a decoy and you just look like a fool now.

he doesn’t hit as hard when he spikes. but,,,BUT,,,he tools the blockers. he aims for the sides of their arms to get the ball sucked in or the edges of their fingers to get a wipe and it’s literally so fucking annoying ngghghrh

sometimes, when he’s doing two-man or three-man blocks, he knows he gets targeted as the shorter blocker, so he makes sure to switch with someone taller right at the last second.

also joins satan in playing mind games with the opposing blockers. he’ll act all charming and friendly at first, and then he’ll start roasting their form. but then other times he chats up the opposing players and tries to get their number.

Beelzebub (WS)

sometimes, when they go on runs, he breaks away from the group w belphie to go stop by somewhere to eat. now lucifer makes them run in the front of the group to keep an eye on them.

strong side hitter. that’s it. he’s their ace.

no block can stop him. lucifer’s strong, but beel has raw brute force thats just a bit stronger

good luck trying to. but you’re just gonna get your arm ripped off.

also a really strong server but doesn’t have as much control as lucifer does.

even in the back, his backrow spikes are still super fucking strong good luck to the opponents.

whenever hes up to serve, he reminds everyone to watch their heads. (mammon didn’t listen and went down one time during a practice game now he makes sure to steer clear of the ball’s path when beel’s up to serve.)

Belphegor (WS)

during practice, you’re hardly ever going to get him to do more than the bare minimum.

so you know kunimi from haikyuu? that’s exactly his playstyle.

minimal movement, no wasted energy. until the latter half of the game.

oh man, again? he’s going for a third spike a-fucking-gain?

lowkey makes you wanna drop the ball just so this dam rally ends quickly

also does a lot of cheeky dinks over blocks before slamming the ball down and catching the receiver offguard.

#ive played vball for 0.5 seconds #and ive watched+read haikyuu #so i know what im talking about jkjkjjk #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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timextoxhajima · 3 years

Text

I Wish (Part IV, Continuing from When You Love Someone)

Group: DAY6

Genre: DAY6 TRILOGY CONTINUATION (What Can I Do, I Loved You, When You Love Someone)

A/N: After like 4 years of people trying to get me into Day6, I’m finally here with What Can I Do playing on repeat in the bg to help me vibe with what I’m writing. Biggest thank you to the person who got me into this mess, I might just cry with how many things I have up my sleeves now.

"3... 2... 1... Younghyun! I'm coming to find you!”

!Younghyun covers his mouth with glee, listening to his best friend run down the hallway and right past the cabinet he was hiding in.

"Jieun, please be careful down the stairs!" He heard his mother calling out from downstairs.

"Okay!" Jieun's voice rings through the house as her footsteps trace back down the steps. Younghyun closes one eye to look through the gap between the two doors, watching Jieun return up to the second floor.

"Younghyun!" The eight year old boy covers his mouth, preventing himself from laughing. Hide-and-seek is an important game ans he cannot lose to a girl.

"Younghyun~!" She shouts in a sing-songy voice, closer to the cabinet than he would like her to be. Then Jieun suddenly turns to the cabinet, catching that little glimmer in her eyes when she realised he could be hiding in there.

Younghyun's mother can hear the excited screams and yells from the second floor when she assumes Jieun has found her son hiding in his favourite hiding spot, the sound of their laughter only bringing her joy and comfort.

In the night, Younghyun's mother leaves two waterbottles outside the tent they were sleeping in (that was pitched in Younghyun's room) before leaving, turning off the lights before closing the door behind her. Younghyun crawls out, grabbing a torchlight and shining the bright beam at Jieun's gameboy as it beeps to life.

Little did they know it would be the last time they could do that, or even fit into the tent.

Younghyun was a quick-witted child, understood things faster than normal kids would. Jieun's pink-blushed face was looking down at him through the window of the passenger's seat infront as her father thanks Younghyun's parents for the three-week-long babysitting.

"Where is she going? Why is she leaving? Is she coming back? Did I do something wrong?"

Jieun's father squats and pats Younghyun's head, offering the child a look of apology that he will not understand for the next five years or so.

"We'll come back to visit, okay? Thank you for taking care of my Jieun for me."

It's like the adult thinks he can replace Younghyun's best friend when he hands him a toy robot. Jieun's eyes are unable to peel away from Younghyun when the car jerks after her father shuts the car door. Younghyun's mother is desperately wiping her son's face and holding him in his arms while he watches the car drive off.

"We'll come back to visit" is one of the biggest lies an adult can tell a child.

Younghyun jerks awake from his sleep, the alarm jolting him out of his nightmarish memory. Slamming a hand down into the alarm clock, he shuts it off and sits up, fingers running through his hair with his eyes still closed.

Kim Jieun... do you not remember me?

Park Jaehyung and Kim Jieun look a little too close for Younghyun's liking, but what can he say? They had sleepovers when they were 8 years old -- had her father not dragged her halfway across the country then, he would be in Jaehyung's place right now.

Funny how all three new students were all dumped in his class though. Kim Jieun, Yoon Dowoon and Park Jaehyung. Yet, while Jieun and Jaehyung looked like they were having the time of their lives, Dowoon seemed like he'd be better off dead.

"Hi, are you three doing alright in school?" Jieun looks up to Wonpil, eyes halved into crescents as he does his job of being the class president. Younghyun watches Jieun and Jaehyung nod and thank him, but Dowoon's earpieces were shoved so far into his ear canals, Wonpil goes unheard.

"Yah," Younghyun is surprised when Jieun drops honorifics when she calls out to Dowoon. "He's talking to us."

Dowoon gives her a side stare, and proceeds to continue ignoring her.

"I'm sorry, he's been going through a hard time since the move. He'll be up and around in due time." Looking over at Dowoon again, she tries once more to get his attention.

“It’s okay,” Wonpil shakes his head, gently blocking her from reaching out to him. “I get it. He just needs time.”

Wonpil nods, giving Dowoon one more glance before returning to his seat. At the end of the day, Younghyun and Jieun had been rostered to clean the classroom, so he feels nothing but discomfort when she exhibits the diligence she was already known for back then. Picking up the mop and the broom, she starts cleaning the floor without hesitation, without giving Younghyun a second look.

Does she not remember me or--

"Kang Younghyun."

It feels like his heart had just been stabbed by an electric rod, and it takes mountainous effort for him to contain the shock and surprise he was about to barf out.

"Can you do your job?"

The boy rolls his eyes, frustrated and frankly, a little hurt that she doesn't remember him. A painful wincr of a smile shows up on his lips when she comes over, handing him one of the mops.

How many ‘Kang Younghyun’s are there anyway? Do I even look that different? Just what is keeping her from--

"When were you ever this useless?"

His eyes dart up from the table to hers, face blank but eyes full of meaning.

"I'll admit that I didn't recognise you the other day when we bumped into each other," Younghyun's heart is about to lurch out of his chest. "But it clicked so..."

The world is silent for some seconds. Younghyun's heart is yearning to reach out and hug her for he had lost the one thing he would have rather had for the rest of his life. But Jieun would probably take it the wrong way... or rather -- his replacement might not like it.

"How are you?"

The question takes Younghyun by surprise. Why did it take her so long to finally ask this? He, unfortunately, cannot swallow his pride and take her into his arms the way he wants to.

“I’m fine,” He spits, grabbing the mop and moving off to mindlessly paint the floor with water that he wasn’t even sure was clean. Jieun's eyebrows flatten against her features, confused but silent in understanding. She can only imagine how angry he was, and when a child’s anger goes unanswered, unfixed for a decade... it turns into something of a grudge that she isn’t sure she can undo.

Younghyun carelessly flings the mop around the space, the water sprinkling on all kinds of surfaces before Jieun runs over, nearly wishing to shove the mop into his face.

How immature can he get, over something that wasn’t in my control?

“Younghyun--”

“I’ve done my job,” Offering her the most nonchalant smile he can force onto his lips, he raises a fist in a bid to ‘encourage’ her. Jieun huffs in disbelief, hand running through her hair as he leaves the classroom. “Have fun.”

Jieun: i can’t believe he was such a jerk about it

You: doesn’t he know you couldn’t have done anything about it anyway

Jieun: i don’t know

Jieun: i just wish he knows i was just as sad as he was when my dad brought me away

You: maybe you need to give him time, like dowoon does

Jieun: sigh

Jieun: you’re right

Jieun: you’re there already, aren’t you?

You: yeah, what’ya want?

Jieun: nah, i’m okay. i’ll be back a little later though, had to clean up whatever younghyun didn’t

You: alright

Jieun: see you later!

Pausing right outside the cafe, Jaehyung locks the phone and sucks in a deep breath, the transparent glass providing him with a flawed view of the barista. Failing to remember the last time he had such a huge crush on someone he doesn’t even know, he gathers his courage in the palms of his sweaty hands as he pushes himself into the cafe.

“Welcome!” Her voice sounds like wind chimes and bells. “Oh! It’s you!”

“Right, hi,” Get your shit together, man.

“I’m guessing two milkshakes?” My God, that smile should be illegal.

“Uh-- just one today, actually.”

“Oh?” Her eyes widen, enlarging all the sparkles in her eyes. “Do you want to try something else?” Leaning forward over the counter, she points to the menu board stuck upright. “You can try the cold brew coffee. It’s a new item and I’ve tried it myself, pretty refreshing.”

“Okay, sure.”

That was too quick a response, man.

“Alright! Just give me a few minutes.”

I’ll give you all the time you need.

There was a struggle to contain all that admiration and envy for just a single person. When she brings the cup of coffee over, it looks like an angel serving you a cup of heaven.

She smiles not with her lips, but with her eyes, and Jaehyung cannot help but to purse his lips in a bid to contain his happiness.

"I'm sorry, he's been going through a hard time since the move. He'll be up and around in due time."

Younghyun shifts his weight to the side, brain empty of thoughts besides thinking of the way Jieun spoke to Yoon Dowoon, spoke of Yoon Dowoon. The arcade had an occasional jingle sound to it due to the bell hung on the door, coupled with the rapid shooting from FPS games and then there’s the incessant smashing of game console buttons--

“Get out of my seat, cunt.”

Younghyun’s ears are drawn to the familiar voice -- a big burly dude who didn’t do much but torment the kids in the arcade. He knows better not to interfere so he plasters his attention back to the motorbike racing game he was on.

“But I don’t see your name on the console.”

The voice wrings Younghyun out of his virtual competition, an instinct telling him to get up and stop the impending disaster. He couldn’t decide if it was because he knew the big guy was a bully, or if he’s figured out that Yoon Dowoon must be related to Jieun of some sorts.

“You little--” Yoon Dowoon braces himself for impact, arm covering his head, until he hears a thud right above him. His eyes travel up, logic taking awhile to settle around his saviour’s facial features as the bully’s wrist is held tightly in someone else’s palm.

“He’s got a point. Console doesn’t have your name on it.”

Dowoon frowns when he connects the dots, suddenly more agitated that he needs another boy to help him out of his misery. Out of annoyance, and of the many options he could’ve chosen to carry out, he chooses to storm off.

Younghyun smirks to himself, letting out a chuckle of disbelief.

Dowoon finds himself stranded along the roadside after he’s bought himself a little bottle of milk, the kind that his father used to get for him when he was a kid, before his mother had chosen to remarry one of the richest Kims in the country.

He fiddles with the ointment and the single hard-boiled egg in his pocket, silently hoping that if his classmate wouldn’t appear from the corner and beat him into a pulp the way he probably had been, Dowoon could show some kind of gratitude.

Speaking of the Devil, Younghyun turns round the corner, slight frustration overwhelming his eyes when he spots Dowoon candidly sipping on his milk.

“You really know how to run away from a fight, don’t you?” He grabs the chair and plops himself down, already ready to shove that bottle of milk down Dowoon’s mouth for ditching him. Licking the corner of his bottom lip, he manages to restrain himself from wincing.

Dowoon pulls out the ointment and hard-boiled egg, gently pushing it across the table. The gesture catches Younghyun off-guard, a second smile of disbelief surfacing on his lips.

“Were you just waiting for me to show up so you could hand me these?”

Dowoon mischievously raises a brow, taking a loud sip from his milk. “Mhm.”

Younghyun cannot help but snort at Dowoon’s daring nature before he picks the egg up and rubs it across his cheekbone.

“So,” Dowoon doesn’t hesitate to start. “What’s your relationship with Jieun?”

The smile falls from Younghyun’s face, and Dowoon isn’t an idiot. Contrary to his silent demeanor, he used to be known for being able to read people easily.

“I see the way you look at her, and when you were rostered to stay back to clean up the classroom today... I heard a bit of it.”

Refusing to admit that he’s just been exposed, Younghyun cracks the egg on the tabletop. Begins to peel the shell of the milky white interior. The last few sips of Dowoon’s milk becomes particularly loud when he puts in the extra effort to suck it up, then he throws it in a nice toss into the nearest dustbin.

“You don’t have to hide anything, you know,” Dowoon says with calm in his voice. “It’s not like I’ll tell her anything. We might live in the same house but I know to protect a man’s pride.”

He can feel his saviour’s eyes pierce through his skull as he says those exact words. Good, I got it spot on.

“Same house, huh?” Younghyun takes a bite from the egg. “I’m guessing this is why she moved away ten years ago.”

It was Dowoon’s turn to fall silent, simply because he must’ve been crying about his father leaving him somewhere on the other side of the country too.

“Why’d you guys move back here then? Only recently?”

“Mother invested in some new apartments nearby, got the suite and dumped us there.”

Younghyun hums, chewing on the egg yolk. “And... Jaehyung?”

Dowoon studies Younghyun’s inability to look at him in the eye. He’s jealous of Jieun’s best friend.

“You’ll find out when you ask Jieun yourself.”

#day6 #day6 fanfic #day6 scenario #wonpil #sungjin #youngk #dowoon #jae #idk what else to tag

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mannatea · 3 years

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Excuse me I want the opinions about the apocalyptic humans are the real monsters please!

>Are you sure you would like to board this train?

Anyway, sure! I have a lot of thoughts. And opinions. And considerations. Hopefully this train of thought is worth the trip. All aboaaaaard!

Part I: This Mentality Doesn’t Exist in Just Fiction!

I take issue with this phrasing as a general rule because humans are still human. Calling them “monsters” for their evil deeds—something everyone is capable of performing, by the way—is just...asinine to the nth degree. Sure, we’d all like to imagine we’re not capable of Great Evil, but WE ARE.

I don’t want to dive into Purity Police Politics here, but here’s a question for (general) you: where is the line drawn? What makes a “bad” person “a monster” vs. just being a bad/thoughtless/careless person?

I think we can all agree that objectively some acts are evil. If you’ve been following the news this year, you probably have a million examples, but (TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS LINK) here’s a particularly terrible one; they even call the abusers monsters in this news article. Why? I think you know why. They want to emotionally distance themselves. They want to believe that these people are unique in their ability to cause harm and suffering to another human being.

But WOWEE!!! Spoiler alert: the writer is just as capable of abuse as the people who committed the crime!!!!

Don’t get me wrong, I think most people are UNLIKELY to commit a crime like that, or even hurt another person with malicious intent or hatred in their hearts. But to pretend we are not all capable of it is putting yourself on a pedestal above the rest of humanity, and...I dunno. That’s awfully cocky.

Tumblr in particular loves to talk about toxicity and abuse, and they love to paint themselves as “better than” or “above” that behavior, but 1) we are all capable of toxicity, have been problematic in our lifetime, and have probably done something abusive to someone else at one point or another, and 2) we must remember that this is true of everyone else as well as ourselves. The important thing is that we strive to behave better, to learn to recognize when we are hurting someone else, to CARE THAT WE MIGHT BE HURTING SOMEONE ELSE, and to actively work to just be better/kinder people.

I totally get the desire to call a cruel, abusive, or evil person “a monster” but THEY ARE NOT. They are people. People are not infallible. Monsters by definition are imaginary creatures, but the abuse these people inflict is real. The crimes are real. The hurt is real. The effect these people have on those around them is as real as they themselves are, and to pretend for even a moment that it’s not, that they are somehow separate from you and I, that the rules apply differently for them than you and I, is just...harmful?

Because again, where do you draw the line?

Part II: Using Monster as an Insult

Monsters are creations, always, as they are by definition imaginary creatures. I think some might look to the Nature vs. Nurture Debate when it comes to criminal acts to try and justify their use of the word “monster” to refer to people like the abusers in the link above (aka: “society shaped them into that, it was never their natural inclination”) but that feels vaguely like cherry-picking to me, and I don’t like it.

Also, “Monster” is used as such a joking insult online these days (you’re a monster for dissing my anime waifu headcanons) it’s lost its bite if it ever had it to begin with. My beloved cat CiCi’s nickname was ‘Monster’ because the first Christmas I had her she rolled around on the Christmas presents and hissed at anyone who tried to move them. We also have an energy drink named Monster. Cookie Monster. Created ‘monsters’ with their own lore like werewolves and vampires and kelpies and Bigfoot.

So you risk one of three things by calling someone a monster: 1) it comes across like a joking insult/cute pet name, 2) you’re putting them on par with beings that literally do not exist except in fiction, and that half of this hellsite wants to fuck MANY people actually enjoy talking/reading about as part of an entire literary genre, or 3) you’re saying they’re literally not human beings and therefore not worth being considered as such.

None of these options are good.

Part III: “Humans Were the Real Monsters All Along!™”

Maybe when literacy levels were super low and only the wealthy had the leisure time and access to literature they could read for fun, this kind of reveal was Intriguing, but I’m here to tell you that it’s never been interesting to any person who has lived in the real world, like, ever.

I feel like for children this may be different (I dunno, as a child you don’t always understand what’s going on around you/are more likely to be sheltered from these kinds of truths outside of fiction), but I highly doubt that, say, peasants in 1620 weren’t well aware that humans were capable of evil.

Sure, they did the same thing we like to do and called people who committed particularly heinous acts ‘monsters’ (probably for the same reasons we do as well as because they wanted to believe they were safe in their communities and that their neighbors were also different and not capable of doing that sort of thing) but again you see the general level of denial:

This person is not like me.

I am different.

I must call them something else.

Which, yes you are different, but the difference is NOT in WHAT you are, it’s in HOW YOU ACT and the emotions you act upon!

Society has a history of doing this separation, and of revealing in fiction that humans are actually the real monsters, but again, those of us who exist in the real world already know that human beings are capable of great evil. Even if we are surprised by the level of vileness or not is irrelevant; we all know that logically this kind of thing happens in the real world and that human beings are responsible for it.

Part IV: Bad Reveal. BAD!

In some pieces of media, the writers go out of their way to be like, “THE MONSTERS WE’VE HATED ALL THIS TIME AND HAVE BEEN FIGHTING WERE ONCE HUMAN LIKE US. WE COULD BECOME LIKE THEM! OH NO!”

Which...lol.

Let’s look at zombies, a monster created for the sake of this kind of narrative. They were “once human” but are now mindless beings completely unaware of the hurt they are inflicting, even on those they might have known in their lifetime. Zombies can infect living human beings, turning them into zombies. The humans in these stories don’t want to become zombies, so they fight the zombies (with varying results, depending on the particular piece of media you choose to consume).

Zombie stories have a huge cult following; people love this kind of thing. On the surface you might think zombie stories fit the above narrative, and they do, but like...literally. “They were human once but aren’t anymore!” is almost never a reveal in these stories; it’s something everyone already knows and is actively fighting against.

"Humans are the real monsters” rarely has much to do with the zombies. It almost always occurs when a human in the group of survivors betrays the others in a big way.

The betrayer is then painted as the REAL monster here, the REAL threat. You might notice that lot of post-apocalyptic and/or humans-vs.-monsters fiction follows the same pattern: humans fight monsters, (optional ingredient: the monsters were once human!), and then they find out that Actually, Humans Were the Real Monsters All Along!

Again, anyone reading this post already knows that. They go out in public and see people who can’t be assed to wear a mask. “Wah it itches.” “Wah I can’t breathe.” “Wah it’s inconvenient for me and I’m not infected I know I’m fine!”

These same maskless fools would tell you to your face that the betrayer in these stories is a monster. They themselves, however, are not capable of hurting other people! They’re better than that! That person is a monster! They would never betray their allies. Except they do, every day, by refusing to wear a mask to protect other people from themselves. “Just in case” isn’t a good enough reason for them because it’s an inconvenience and they don’t like how it feels.

Sure, wearing a mask during a pandemic seems like such a small thing compared to, you know, betraying your fellow survivors in the apocalypse, but you have to consider context. If wearing a mask during a pandemic that has literally killed huNDreDS oF thousands is so inconvenient they won’t even wear it for the 3 minutes they are in the gas station...would you trust this person in a post-apocalyptic setting? Would they gather food for a physically disabled survivor? Would they literally fight to protect someone ill? Share resources fairly? You know if they can’t wear a mask for three minutes in a whole damn day they wouldn’t step up like that. They could easily end up being the betrayer in a situation like that. They’ve never been desperate enough to do something like that before, and they probably don’t think they’re capable of it now, but we know what they do when something is a minor inconvenience to them. Imagine a major inconvenience. Imagine their whole life being turned upside-down!

My issues with the reveal of “Humans are actually the real monsters!” are many, but the biggest issue I take with it from a writing perspective is that it’s almost never accurate when you look at the scope of the story.

Tens of thousands of zombies vs. one (1) betrayer: and you’re telling me the betrayer is the real monster? The bigger threat??? BULLSHIT. Sure, it takes a real asshole to betray people during the literal apocalypse, but that act doesn’t take away from the fact that they are human, LET ALONE the fact that using this particular point as a Big Important Reveal tells me you’re a shit writer who thinks you’re smart.

(For the record, you might have a character who will prioritize this and consider that betrayer the bigger threat, but we’re not talking about character development/motivations so much as overarching narratives the writer includes in the story separate from that.)

Anyway, I’m not saying stories with this premise in them are shit, I’m saying that this concept as a big plot reveal/climax of a story is shit. How can this even be a reveal worth revealing? Has anyone ever turned on the news?

Part V: Drawing the Line and Other Particulars

I definitely do not have the expertise or the experience to make this a detailed point, so please forgive me for that, but let’s talk about that line again, because this point absolutely cannot be overlooked.

Where is it? What makes one person who commits a crime or evil act a monster and not another? Is it the act committed? Their mental state? What about the mentally ill? What about neurodivergent people? What about children?

As an extreme example: is a woman who throws her baby off a building a monster? NO!!! SHE’S HUMAN and she did something terrible. We might like to say we’re different and we would neVeR do that, but we don’t know because we have never been in her shoes. We are missing context even the courts will never have or fully grasp. We do not know or understand her mental state no matter what the doctors say. Calling her a monster doesn’t do anything but put her in a separate category from the rest of us, which is harmful on SO many levels, starting with the fact that it means nobody talks to her, nobody gets her side of the story, nobody listens, and so we have no perspective, no understanding, no desire to learn.

Things like this are why it took so long for PPD to even begin to be understood, and why EVEN NOW women are afraid to talk about it and all related issues. I follow a ob-gyn on YouTube and the amount of women in her comments who thank her (oftentimes VERY emotionally) for openly saying it’s normal to not immediately feel a connection to your baby when they are born is mind-blowing. Not everyone will feel that! Sometimes you have to get to know your baby because they are an individual person and that is how love works for some people! But 5 years ago, 10 years ago, 20 years ago, 100 years ago: that was unthinkable to admit. You lied about it and you felt like a terrible person instead. What kind of mom doesn’t love their baby instantly? You must be the worst. Meanwhile, the woman you’re getting your information from doesn’t feel that bond either and is lying about it because she feels pressured and just as bad as you do. All this suffering, and for what?! Stigma. Being told you’re not human if you don’t feel like that.

Don’t you know the bond with that baby suffered from this issue, too? Don’t you think it affected the parent/child relationship for the rest of their lives?

Not everyone who commits a crime falls into a category like this, and maybe the woman in my example doesn’t either, but I hope your takeaway is that calling people monsters keeps them separated from other people to the point where their story becomes just as fictional as the monsters they are called, and when it is heard it is enjoyed as fiction, rather than seriously considered.

Let’s not pretend that this separation of humanity into “human” and “not human” based on the way someone acts hasn’t hindered progress in the mental health/medical fields for everyone. When people are not considered human they are not given human treatment, rights, consideration, or empathy.

Part VI: TL;DR:

we are all human and capable of doing bad things.

the difference between a bad person and you or I is a lot more complex and multilayered than “they did a terrible thing and I did not do that terrible thing.”

calling people ‘monsters’ for the bad things they do dehumanizes them and may:

strip them of responsibility for their actions by insinuating they were born that way or they aren’t actually human like you and I, and/or

prevent them from getting the help they need/from others who have not done anything bad yet getting the help they need

it’s not a good reveal in fiction

because most of us already know people commit evil acts,

and it is oftentimes is presented in a way that doesn’t actually make sense for the story.

Sorry that it got long and probably isn’t very well organized! I wrote it in bursts at work. But anyway yeah...

I don’t mind when characters feel this way about other characters, but to see it used as a narrative feature/reveal/et cetera in fiction is like, so tiresome. No shit, Sherlock. I turn on the news. I followed true crime for a while. WE ALL KNOW PEOPLE ARE CAPABLE OF DOING TERRIBLE, AWFUL THINGS TO OTHER LIVING THINGS.

Having *that* be your big reveal in a story is so childish it embarrasses me to see it. Wow, congrats on figuring out something at 47 that the rest of us learned on the playground before we turned 7!

#highwind91 #answered mail #tw: abuse #long post #idk i feel like posting this is a bad idea...??#oh well it's make idiot decisions day!#it's ok to reblog if u want thx for asking chi!

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gofancyninjaworld · 4 years

Text

The Changing Structure of the OPM Story -- and the Challenge of Adaptation

I've been thinking a lot about the structure of OPM and how it's been changing as we get into the story. I really don't envy anyone who has the task of adapting OPM for screen, particularly as the story advances.

Something that Shingo Natsume says in his interview with AnimeLab Australia really brought it home for me. He says that it's not correct to call the characters around Saitama a 'supporting cast' as they all have their unique roles (start around 2:30). And that got me thinking.

youtube

I think we can broadly divide OPM’s story so far into four phases (the divisions are arbitrary, but I hope useful)

Phase I: INDIVIDUALS

When OPM starts, it's all about the individual characters and there's little focus on the world in which they exist in. It's natural, because we're just being introduced to them. We start out, it's just Saitama, wandering around in splendid isolation. He’s in a world that’s bizarre with giant brothers and underground civilizations, but nothing is explained to us. He exists.

Then it's Saitama and Genos, and it all gets very cosy. Then we add another character. And a few more. We see how they do, we see what some of the people of the world make of them, but we have to take everything on face value, we don’t have a lot of history or context.

Still even at the end of the first phase, we've got not that much context other than that the Hero Association exists to deal with the monsters and threats we see, we've met the Class S heroes and the wider world isn't really in focus as to what their relationship to it means.

The alien invasion really marks the end of this phase as we can’t help but hear what the world makes of the world-shaking fact of having been contacted by aliens and the tragedy of the destruction of a major city.

To adapt it, Shingo Natsume decided to frame the story as a drama first and then a superhero story only secondarily. By doing so, he really made the best of the characters as individuals. We didn’t know why they were the way they were -- in fact, we still don’t entirely know -- but we could come to understand who they were and care about them and be bothered by their relations with the world. We see a lot of it from Saitama’s place and the inhabited world looks remote, fickle, difficult to understand and even hostile. And yet, we get lots to laugh about too.

Interview with Shingo Natsume - Animation Director [Episode 3]

It’s only a couple of minutes long, you’ll want to watch it all.

Phase II: INDIVIDUALS and the world

When King gets introduced, things change. Unlike all the other characters, we don’t get to know King himself, what he says, what he does. Rather, we get what other people around King see in him. What he means to them.

This is where I start not envying people. The first phase, if you’re doing an adaptation, you can largely get by by focusing on the individual characters and their interactions with each other. The second phase is a lot more balanced between the individuals and the world.

As Garou starts cutting a swathe through the heroes and the Monster Association makes life hell for people, the world shares importance with the individuals we're following.

I think that's where season 2's adaptation really struggled. It didn't do such a good job of portraying what all that strife meant to people, the terror and confusion they were feeling, and what a threat to the reputation of the Hero Association it was. Every corner JC Staff cut in not showing the crowds of people, in not showing the extent of destruction or public consternation, every last bit hurt the impact of the story.

When the Monster Association directly challenges the Hero Association, they’re not just out to destroy a group of heroes. We started this phase understanding how people have been able to trust that even in this chaotic world, there are heroes who can end the evil threatening them, or else save them from the danger. And that faith is what is very directly under attack now.

Of course, a certain teenage jerk thinks he’s got what it takes to be the most important individual in the world.

If I were thinking of a frame for this phase, it’d be the loss of innocence and really made the linkage between Amai Mask’s yelling at the heroes at the end of the last season, the faith we saw people have in King and the growing sense of dismay and even betrayal as monsters arose and heroes were nowhere to be found. It’s an increasingly urgent background against which to set the very personal struggles of the various characters we’re following in this part of the story. One that will have a lot of relevance later.

Phase III: Individuals in the World

Whoever takes OPM forward, that problem is only going to get worse. The story moves around ever more relentlessly from scene to scene, from individual to individual and along with it, the world does too. Where to place the weight of our attention is a matter of choice and mastery. Succeed, and we have an epic conflict. Fail and it’s ‘all these things are happening and I can’t keep anything straight.’

Some of that weight needs to be put on the world. Almost from the start, the story frames the individual actions in the context of what it means for the world. We've got the Monster Worship Party, the people so scared of what's happening that they'd rather limit the damage than risk being all destroyed. Garou’s dismay when he realises that he’s not going to be the biggest thing in the world is sobering.

reality, it bites

It’s in this phase that world-building gets serious. We learn about what monsterisation is, are introduced to the concept of a limiter and how individuals may gain power. The manga also builds out more in terms of just why the conflict is happening in City Z, linking together the apparently random dreams of Saitama to the location and the history of just why that part of the city was deserted.

The stakes are clearly drawn by the manga. We literally have two towers rising out of the ruins of a city opposing one another. The Tower of Justice built out of the ashes of City A and the Tower of Despair hauled up through the ruins of City Z. It’s not just the physical struggle between hero and monster that we get, there’s also the philosophical and even spiritual strife between them. A struggle seemingly for the well-being of humanity. All with bonus Garou going through both like a wrecking ball.

and of course, set against all the titans battling, the ordinary little man who has broken past the rules of the world

Phase IV: THE WORLD and its individuals

And now, after the Monster Association, we have the WORLD and the individuals are much smaller. It's become about the movers and shakers and the organisations that influence the world and the individuals are actors going about this changing world. The Hero Association has come in for a critical re-evaluation by the media and public. A rival organisation has arisen. Other organisations start to flex their muscles with varying degrees of covertness, all looking for power and influence.

The history of the world starts to come to view. We learn about the peculiar physical and human geography of this world and a lot more about the role monsters play in the world.

Individuals aren’t forgotten. We start too, to get more background on many characters whose behaviour had hitherto been rather difficult to understand.

It’s been interesting to see Garou’s actual impact. He never became the greatest monster the whole world knew and feared. Rather, he served to potentiate the resentment and strife between the various classes of heroes.

to be fair, this has been a long time coming

We started OPM with all these weird individuals and we loved them as the slightly crazy eccentrics they were. Now one by one, we're getting the contexts they come from and it's beginning to make sense.

all those crazy individuals -- the insecure and empire-building Fubuki, the needlessly antagonistic and over-possessive Tatsumaki, the obsessive ninjas -- all of them are starting to look a lot less crazy. even the cyborg ranting and raving about a mystery cyborg who devastated his life isn’t looking quite so far-fetched any longer. Their truths look to be sadder and wilder than we’d imagined.

The world of OPM is bigger and weirder than any one person within it is able to experience or understand. ONE so far is doing an interesting exercise in telling us about the world, but showing us what it means for the individuals affected by its various aspects.

How an adaptation will keep the story interesting and human and focused while bringing in the sense of scale and context is going to be a real challenge! I do not envy the director. But it's going to be so worth taking on.

youtube

#OPM #meta #story structure #the changing emphasis on the individuals and the world in which they exist in is interesting to observe #ONE has permitted us to enjoy a lot while still keeping it human by focussing on what it means for the individual #but the world does matter -- how an adaptation keeps the balance is going to be good to see #30th #June #2020 #June 30th 2020

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storybookhall · 4 years

Text

The Journey Pt.3- Through Open Eyes

No smut YET just slight fluff. I’m working up to it, i want it to be about more than just the smut. <3

A/n- Today is a LONG one, fitting all of this into one chapter was intense. I wrote in some wlw content to celebrate the LGBT community (which i am a part of (: and proud). So enjoy the 3rd part of this series. Instead of a few from each season i am just going to take bits and pieces and use them.

TW- Strong Language, violence, slight gore.

You shoot straight up panting and sweating heavily, trying to calm down you rub your eyes to adjust to the bright morning sun. You slightly jump at the sight of Daryl sitting in the doorway to your tent.

“ Did I wake you?” you say sheepishly already knowing the answer

“ I think you could’ve woken the dead.” he slightly chuckles at that, because it's no longer a joke like it was before.

“ I’m so sorry” You feel your face get hot with embarrassment.

“ Ain’t never gotta be sorry, you have been through hell.” he gives you a smile.

You’ve been with this group or the past 2 months, and you seem to have fit right in. Carol teaches you first aid, Shane helps with your gun, Daryl teaches you to shoot your bow, and Carl keeps you on your feet. You get up and stretch, Daryl's attention catching on your stomach as your shirt rides up.

“ Hey Y/N! We’re going on a run, do you wanna go?” Rick says as he rounds up the others.

“ Hell yeah I do!” you exclaim as you push past Daryl and put on your boots.

Turns out the run was to look for Sophia, or at least some meat to bring back to the base. You, Rick, Shane, and Carl all go and begin walking through the forest. You hush the group as you see a buck in the distance. Taking carls’ hand you walk towards it slowly reaching to pet it. You look down at him and see the biggest smile you’ve ever seen. Then time slowed down, you heard a bang, and was on the ground knocked out. Rick sprints over to you and starts trying to wake you up. You were completely out. A hunter comes running and apologizes as Rick yells at him trying to find out where to get help. He picks you up and runs in the direction the hunter told you. Rick arrives covered in your blood as a woman yells to someone inside. After stabilizing you, you were able to say one thing.

“ Where’s Daryl?” you groggily say looking around the room wincing in pain as you try to move.

As if he read your mind Carl and Daryl came running into the bedroom and Daryl sat next to you. Feeling calmed by his presence you let yourself drift into unconsciousness.

“ Shane! I need you to pin her legs down, Rick, you get her arms, this isn’t going to be fun for her.” Herschel barks orders at the men and they comply.

As soon as Herschel starts digging out the bullet fragments you jolt awake with a blood curdling scream. Daryl quickly took one of your arms from Rick and held your hand as you continued screaming and sobbing in agony.

“ Fuck!! Please stop, please make it stop!!!” You continue screaming until you lose consciousness.

“ What did you do?! You’re killing her!” Daryl says as his voice shakes.

“ She’s fine, she just went into shock. Good news is, I got one out.” herschel says grimmly

“ and the bad news?” Rick says looking at his concerned face.

“ There’s 5 more pieces and there's no way I'm getting them out without the correct medical supplies.” Herschel looks over at Otis as he clears his throat.

“ There's a high school we could check, they will most likely have what we need. I’ll even take you.” Otis says quickly, stumbling over his words.

“ Let’s fucking go then!” Daryl half yells as he stands up, Rick puts a hand on his chest to stop him.

“ She’s going to need you here when she wakes up.” Rick says sympathetically

“ I’ll go, Rick needs to stay here with Carl.” Shane says as he pats otis as a way of saying ‘let’s go’

------

You wake up groggy and hooked up to an IV, you look to your left and see Daryl sleeping in the chair, starting to wake up at the sound of you moving.

“ Hey. You’re awake!” He says trying to hide his excitement and joy.

“ Damn they gave me the good shit.” you say watching the room spin. This gained a laugh out of Daryl.

The next few days the rest of the group showed up to the farm. Daryl never left your side, which you didn’t mind at all. Rick starts watching Daryl while he is around you, and one day when Daryl finally fell asleep he snuck in.

“ That boy loves you… you know that?” Rick whispers nodding towards Daryl asleep in the chair beside me.

You felt your face getting hot, there’s no way. Although the thought of it made you smile thinking about the Daryl Dixon loving you. You shook your head and let a little giggle slip out looking back at rick.

“ You think so?” you say almost smiling too wide to be real.

Rick just smiles and nods as he leaves the room. Today you got a lot of visitors, your family at this point. As people came in and out quietly, Daryl slept in the chair. You look over to him and feel something you haven’t felt in a long time… Love. You continue staring and watching him sleep when the sound of someone clearing their throat brought you back. Carol stands in the doorway smiling.

“He’s finally sleeping, he deserves it” Carol says looking over to him.

------

You take sharp breaths as you walk back and forth in your room as Daryl holds your arm and shoulder helping you along. He has been such a help in getting up and walking again. It’s been about 2 weeks and you’re basically good as new, besides a little pain in your side. You and Daryl have gotten so much closer over the past few weeks, there’s chemistry there neither of you know what to do with. So after a few more days you are back to walking around and helping around the farm.

“ Hey you?!” you say as Glenn comes up to you basically sweating buckets.

“ There’s walkers in the barn, Herschel keeps them.” he blurts out, not able to keep it to himself any longer.

You inform Rick and begin to devise a plan, this is dangerous and has to be dealt with. After days of back and forth you end up talking to Herschel. Shane loses his cool and busts down the door to the barn. Carol, Daryl, and you all stand with guns drawn. After you thought you cleared the barn you heard another faint growling. Out walks Sofia, you run to Carol and just drop to the ground as you hold her while she cries. The noise attracted a herd that everyone is unaware of. Until night when Shane and Rick were out in the forest and Carl followed them. Carl and Rick saw the herd from across the field and came sprinting back as you duck behind the barn and grip your knife.

“ It’s time to be brave Y/N” You whisper to yourself and brace for the hardest fight of my life…

—-

Daryl’s perspective

“ We need to go right now” Rick yells to you as you look for Y/N.

“ There’s no fucking way I’m leaving without Y/N” you yell as anxiety swells in your body.

“ Daryl you need to come on, we don’t have the ammo!” You hear carol bark the command at you as you keep shooting the walkers.

All of a sudden you feel a hand grip your arm tightly and pull you backwards towards your bike. You finally give in and run to your bike as everyone drives off. Looking over your shoulder you see the place you once almost called home, go up in flames. As you sit by the fire all you can think about is y/n and where she is. Praying what you taught her will keep her alive until you’re able to see her again.

-----

Your perspective

“ They left us… They fucking left us” you hear Andrea as she stabs a walker in the head.

“ They needed to, there was no way of knowing that we got out” you say, shuffling over to her and kicking rocks.

Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months as you do all you can to survive. Andrea got extremely sick and taking care of her was nearly impossible. She passes out while walking to your next location and you try to pick her up, but you could barely carry yourself. So you lie down next to her, and listen to the woods. Crunching leaves gains your attention, you groggily point your weapon and see a woman walk up to you with 2 walkers behind her. She helps you and picks up andrea. She is a very quiet woman but teaches you to use a sword, you teach her the different plants daddy taught you about. Almost a year after losing Daryl and the others, you give up hope.

After a particularly hard day of work you come “home” to see Michonne had left to gather more food. Walking in Andrea sees you covered in blood and grabs a rag. The blood has soaked your shirt so she lifts it off to clean your stomach. You shudder at her touch, she notices the goosebumps prickle your arms.

“ It’s a little cold..” you say, trying not to be obvious about your thoughts of her.

“ Mhm.. Okay.” she snickered and smiled at you as you looked to the floor sheepishly.

She drops to her knees and motions for you to unbutton your shorts, so you did. She washes your legs of all the blood and mud and makes her way back up to your face. Cleaning off the rag you stand there in just your bra and underwear sinking into yourself to hide your embarrassment. She uses the rag to wipe the dirt off your face and looks into your eyes for a moment.

“ There’s the pretty girl I know.” she says, smiling and memorizing all the details of your face.

You feel a sudden urge and don’t know what came over you but you just cup her face in your hands and pull her into a kiss. Quickly stopping and taking a step back, shocked at yourself.

“ I’m so sorry… I… I don’t know what that was..” you stammer, not even being able to look her in the face.

“ I do” she replied matter-of-factly and walked towards you pulling you into her hard.

You pull apart and start laughing together. Sitting on the floor looking at each other.

“ Who says you need college to experiment.” she laughs and scoots over to you and lays her head on you.

“ You're giving me the college experience right here.” You say laughing and shaking your head.

“ Loneliness is really getting to us I guess.” she gets up walking to start making dinner

“ Well loneliness can keep getting to us for tonight can’t it?” you shyly ask walking up behind her.

That night you and Andrea were tangled up together for hours, holding each other closer than you've ever been. Listening to her heartbeat as she plays with your hair. Drifting off to the best sleep you've gotten in a long time.

You wake up to Andrea coughing wildly and barely breathing. Michonne walks over to get you up and fill you in on what needs to happen.

“ We need to go find her medicine, she won’t survive much more of this.” Michonne says looking over at Andrea.

“ Okay we can head out in an hour. I’ll pack.” you reply turning towards your bags.

That was that, as soon as you were packed you started walking. Andrea at a slow pace and needing to sit every few yards. You start to worry about if she will survive or not. You hear a loud crash and start heading to the scene. As you Arrive you see men walking and sit Andrea down next to a bush, Michonne joins you and starts to grab her sword as a voice booms behind you. That voice, that fucking voice, you stare forward trying to calm yourself.

“ ah ah ah, easy does it girl. Mines a whole lot bigger than yours, now, put down your weapons.” Merle orders

Michonne slowly obeys looking over to you and Andrea, you place all your weapons on the ground in front of you looking to Michonne slightly frantic.

“ That’s it nice and easy. Let me see your hands. Now spin around. That’s it, nice little twirl around.” Merle says watching your every move.

You begin to turn knowing as soon as he sees your face he’ll recognize you. Scared shitless you slowly face him.

“ Oh, holy shit.” Merle says as you make eye contact.

A walker begins to walk up behind him and you get slightly scared at the fact that he isn't killing it.

“ y/n. Damn. You look… good.” he says as he whips around and kills the walker.

You watch him as he turns around, a disgusting smile on his face.

“ Now, how’s about a hug for your old pal Merle?” He says, staring at you with his arms open.

“ Fuck you” you spat the words at him, wanting nothing more than to slap him right then and there.

“ Now don’t be so hateful, we’re bringing you home.” He smirks at you.

After a slightly long drive, you arrive at this beautiful community with high walls and armed guards. It looks like a real neighborhood, kids playing outside, parents chatting and enjoying the weather. You almost forget that this monster is holding you hostage for a moment. You tear up thinking back to the first time you met Daryl and how he had saved you from his brother. You hop out of the car and look around.

“ Welcome to woodbury, I hope you find your stay here enjoyable.” a man says brightly lifting his arms to gesture to the beautiful place you were at.

“ I’m not staying, I’m getting a good night's sleep and leaving as soon as I can” you snap back to him.

“ Well alright, that’s your choice. Just know that you are more than welcome to stay for as long as you want.” he calmly replies to your outburst, throwing you off guard.

“ Who the hell are you anyways?!” you question as you look him up and down.

“ Well I have many names, but you can call me… The governor” he says with a smile. A smile that looked off in so many ways.

“ Now, Merle will bring you to your rooms. If you need anything, and I mean anything, just ask and if we are able to we will provide.

Andrea and Michonne decided to stay in the same room. You walk around after placing your bags in your room. Andrea seems to warm up to the place quickly. An hour goes by and it starts to get dark, the governor walks up and brings you to dinner. Then Andrea and Michonne walk you home as you talk.

“ Meet us tomorrow for breakfast?” Andrea yells to you as she begins walking away.

“ Of course.” You reply closing your door.

You strip your sweat soaked clothes and hop in the shower. A real shower. You haven’t had one of these in what seems like years. As the water covers you in bliss you hear the front door open. “Probably just Michonne or Andrea coming to get something from my bag” you think to yourself. You scrub your body and enjoy the feeling of clean hair and skin. Once you’re done you hop out of the shower and dry off, changing into the clean clothes they provided. You never heard the door shut again, which is strange. Not as if you were actually paying attention while you were enjoying the warm water. You walk back into your room to head to bed. As soon as the bathroom door shuts you hear a gun cock behind you, and you freeze in place.

“ It’s playtime little girl” you hear Merle say with malice and ill will in his voice.

A/N- Sorry this part was so long, i had a LOT to fit in this part to set it up for Pt. 4. What do you think is going to happen? I’d love to hear what you think of this series so far. And don’t forget that I post every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday 3pm EST. Stay safe and healthy. <3

@aquariusfangirl @mysterious-398 @onlydarylnormanfic

#twd #twd imagines #daryl dixion imagine #daryl x reader #daryl dixon

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goatpaste · 4 years

Note

So I'm pretty new to your fan clans and Im confused by the way they work. Is there any chance that you could help me understand how the clans themselves formed? I know at least one clan lives in a twolegplace (partially at least) but otherwise Im very confused

ah im p new to my own fan clans lol, like just made them up three days ago lolbut iv been working as i go to make them!

heres a good starting point

a sketched map of their OG territories. three slabs of land split in three by a river.the dock in the middle was their gathering place( iv drawn it a bit small im bad with ‘maps’ but its a tall dock that the cats will gather under, the leaders sitting on a few large boulders near the shoreline.

and then their current territory where Honorclan forest has been mostly cut down and replaced by twoleg territory

another thing to note before i get too into it, these clans believe in starclan but a little differently.they do believe it to be the place clan cats go in death, but instead of listening and being guided by all of starclan, they in a sense worship select cats. typically past leaders who in their eyes after being leader and dying for their clan become that of gods in starclan, and using their ancient wisdom of the clan they once ruled and their new cosmic identity to guide them forward even after death.

but this gonna be a whole thing more some more under the cut it goes!

Loyalclan (heart emblem) lives in a vast field of tall grass that has a few trees before hitting a wall of trees a the edge of the field.they are known for being on the smaller side, hidden by the tall grass. their good diggers even using old tunnels dug up by larger animals as passage ways to their camp. their camp is located at the edge of their territory where a cluster of trees lines the end of the field. the camp is in a dip in the ground, what would appear to be the dig out of what could have been past human digging. The pit is nearly 8 feet deep. they make dens out of holes in the walls. their center of the camp tends to be full of leaves that have fallen from the trees above and its a chore for apprentices to clear out old leaves before they get nasty. the leaders den and the medicine cat den is sat on their side of their exit, a tunnel that leads nearly 15 ft out.opposite side sits the nursery, apprentice den, warrior den, elders den and a tunnel out to a dirtplace.

again to state their cats are typically on the small side, their short enough to be unseen in the grass, very light on their feet.

their primary prey tends to be mice and voles that live in the fields and sometimes birds and pheasants are a nice treat.the biggest part of their bodies tend to be their large wide front paws built for digging up the homes of prey. trivia wise their first leader was a stray named Foxie who in her youth was abandoned with no recollection of her past. her only companion was that of a dog who was her only family. when leaf bare came, Her dog companion passed away. Foxie stayed by her dead companions side for days until she was found by local cats who helped her. they fixed up his funeral and welcomed foxie into their home. when the clans were established and she was made leader she was renamed Loyalstar, in sake of her devotion to her late friend and to her future clan. the clans are currently on their third leader Mutestar who successed FlaxstarHonorclan (shield emblem) once living in a heavily dense forest known for their tracking abilities and strength. they hunted on feast of many small animals and were known for being able to hunt and kill foxes in packs.their forest was large and prey plenty.their only concern ever was a small logging facility that worked in their forest twice a year. they would come in and take down some trees before the winter started. to them never a huge concern and plenty of forest to go around. but it only got worseunknown to the cats, the logging facility was sold off to a big company that quickly and efficiently over the course of a few years developed the land and made it a small city town. theres only a strip of territory left that is still woodlands covering the edge of the bank of the river. unlike the other clans that shoved over when the humans arrive, Honorclan didnt move a muscle. the only thing that moved was their camp. they chose to make the best of their situation.their camp was relocated to a small cove like area a little bit further down the stream.

its a rocky little space with the river at their front door. its mostly hidden by rocks with cozy spaces in the area for cats to hole up in.

the part of the territory to focus on now a days is the part the humans made and the cats rule. the twolegs homes closest to the river and small cafes and stores where its usually much quieter and the loudest thing around are twoleg children who come down to play at the water. further in is shopping centers and tall buildings lined with bright colorful light and windows. Honorclan takes vantage of the space, hunting for rats and taking garbage or even excepting food from twolegs from time to time.

a beloved spot when cats arnt hunting is alleys behind dry cleaners where hot air comes out holes in the sides of the buildings.

the cats a more typical cat build, agile bodies built for climbing to the top of buildings and furry bodys for keeping warm at night.

these cats are a mostly nocturnal clan working from late evenings to somewhere past midnight out of the eyes of most humans.they also seem to possess a decently language skill being able to understand some human words, talking to dogs or pigeons.and much like skyclan, they have rather unconventional names. having names based on human things, or having kittypets and ally cats joining their clan and keeping their names or making them warrior names.

They were founded by Aseer a leader of a traveling group of cats who met the cats that would become Loyalclan a group of welcoming and kind felines.the two groups chose to share the land splitting it between the two of them.

Aseer was a kind tom who honored their promises and kept to their land, and in time the clans began to form and rules came into place.after the first months settled in the river flooded and ruined the land that the soon to be cats of loyalclan called home. much prey had drowned and died in their homes, the grassland like a marsh. Foxie and her group were in great need of help.

Their code spoke of keeping to their own lands and no taking of prey from each others territories no matter what (a rule now changed after this experience). However in this time Aseer chose to set aside their laws, and his honor to help his neighbors by bringing them in and feeding them in his lands.starclan chose him as leader, naming his Honorstar. a cat who while showing great honor and pride for his clan knew when to set aside and help others in need.

The current leader is Greasestar, he is currently the 4th leader of Honorclan. he preceded Strikestar.As for our last clan i cant tell you a whole lot yet >:3c

but their name is

Gloryclan

they live in the last third of the territories that is like marsh land, land that never dried up moons after the flooding on the fields happened. its full of large rocks and plants that seem to only grow on their marshy banks.

they were founded by Hero later named Glorystar due to her epic tale of heroics.

#wc ocs #my ocs #longpost #confusedfangorl

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honekitteh · 5 years

Text

FIC: Countdown - Chapter 1

Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: T (this chapter) Genre: Angst, H/C, Romance, Canon-Typical Violence, Humor Synopsis: A distress call leads the Jedi Battlemaster to Ziost, but time is running out. Follows the storyline of The Rise of the Emperor and inserts missing scenes. Author's Notes: First installment of an actual chaptered fic in this fandom. Hopefully there will be more in the future. Warnings: Future chapters will raise the rating to M/E.

Crossposted to AO3

How did I get to this point? That is an excellent question. One would expect the so-called Hero of Tython to have a far more heroic introduction. Jump in to save the day. Say something suave or clever. Jyana Kai, the “famous” Jedi Battlemaster who was reported to have killed the Sith Emperor would be able to jump into the fray and defeat anything.

Sure, you would think that.

Instead I was standing underneath a domed barrier with SIS Agent Theron Shan, just waiting. My bruises had bruises; my mental defenses were on high guard. He didn’t look too much better but calling down Archiban Frodrick “Doc” Kimble, the most humble doctor I’ve ever known, from the orbital station was out of the question.

He straightened up after ensuring the shield was properly set and looked to me. “Okay. We should wait until they’re good and close.”

I closed my eyes briefly, allowing my senses to reach out to get a good feel for how much time we had. It wasn’t much. I moved slightly closer to Theron and said softly, “I wasn’t sure when I’d run into you again. Not the greatest circumstances, but still.” I very nearly reached to him but halted myself with a small glance behind me. It wasn’t my fellow Jedi and closest friend Kira Carsen though that I sensed when I could feel we weren’t alone.

He offered a weak but knowing smile. “Maybe next time the lives of an entire world won’t be in danger – but, yeah, feeling’s mutual.”

I felt my heart flip flop a bit at his smile and met his with my own. Soon though, I could feel them. His amber eyes shifted from mine to behind me. Closing my eyes for a brief moment, I took a deep breath, then reopened them to follow his gaze. Kira had already drawn her dual-saber, its green light reflecting against the metallic floor.

Theron pulled out his data pad and started tapping. “Okay, here comes the puppet brigade. Fingers crossed…”

It was a fairly sizeable group, Imperials, Republic troops, and even some Jedi. I silently cursed the Chancellor and added it to the growing list of matters I will add to a report, should I bother to file one. At this particular moment, the choice words I had planning were significantly less Jedi than they had been the beginning of this entire fiasco. The horde moved closer and Theron triggered the device.

That Theron even had to modify it to be non-lethal was not lost on me. As I saw the soldiers all be stunned and fall to the ground, I could not help but wonder what the result would have been had that modification not been made. The Empire, putting a weapon in one of its capital cities with the capability to kill a vast amount of their own citizens? If they had one of these in New Adasta, they could have it on Kass City, or in a number of other cities. But why? Because of riots? Gee, I wonder why anyone would riot against a ruling body that had no regard for their lives.

My eyes glanced over to a Republic soldier that had collapsed. Were we even better? The Republic should be better than this. Theron followed my eyes and let the shield dome collapse. He approached the soldier and knelt. “This one was closet, took the biggest hit.” He reached for his neck, checking his pulse as I walked up beside him. I looked out towards the door and across the landscape of unconscious bodies. “Still alive,” Theron confirmed, relief in his voice, “We did it! Let’s just hope we got all of them.”

“Let’s hope,” I murmured, still scanning the surroundings. Something still felt off. This moment was far from over, I could feel it.

“We should call Lana now, see if she has a plan for what’s next.”

The bodies began to float in the air. “I have a better idea,” a booming male imperial voice spoke through a woman sauntering onto the platform. With a small flick of a hand motion, the bodies crashed back away from her, clearing a path. Her eyes yellow and wild, she smirked as she drew her lightsaber.

“Master Surro.” Theron’s entire stance sunk and he moved to stand between me and the unconscious puppet army and the approaching Jedi Master. “No...” I lightly reached an arm to his shoulder, trying to pull him back and shift him behind me, but he stood his ground.

“Watching you believe you had a chance; it’s amused me.” Master Surro raised her hand sluggishly as if it were pulled by string, the Force lifting a dazed Imperial lieutenant into a sitting position. “Now this whole charade is pathetic.”

I shifted my own position, trying to assess the situation and moved in front of Theron. Not soon enough, as Master Surro summarily executed the dazed man she’d just set up. The range of emotions in the man beside me went from shock, to horror, to anger. It took a great deal of my own willpower and Force meditation to not absorb Theron’s pain and have it fuel me and complement the dread that I felt; the very dread I’ve been feeling rising since the moment I’d received his distress holo.

Master Surro’s lips turned in a cruel sneer. “Now, how do you wish to die? In combat or on your knees?”

Lana Beniko, Sith Lord and Director of Sith Intelligence, raced from within the building, lightsaber drawn and poised to attack.

“Go away, little Sith.” Master Surro easily shoved the approaching Sith Lord with a shove. Theron moved in front of me again and drew his weapon but was immediately lifted in the air. He gave me a wincing glance before he was unceremoniously thrown against the wall and crashed the ground. I looked between Lana and Theron and took the last reserves of my energy to take a deep breath.

Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force.

Glancing back to Master Surro, I furrowed my brow and drew both my shoto. The Emperor controlled puppet smirked. “This has nothing to do with your friends. This is you and I.”

Igniting my sabers, I leaped into the air.

So how did I get to this point? I guess I could start from the beginning…

At some point in my early life, I was brought to Hasshimut to take up training to be a Jedi. I have no recollection of much before this point, no memory of a mother or a father. The Jedi didn’t see a need to enlighten me and eventually I never truly thought to ask. Perhaps that was a mistake looking back.

But I digress. While that may be the beginning of my story, it is not the beginning of this particular story.

Approximately a year or so ago I became more than what was called the Hero of Tython. I was now the Battlemaster, a reward for helping bring together both Empire and Republic to defeat Revan and to attempt to stop Vitiate from regaining power. The latter failed however, and a team had been put together to continue trying to find out where he’d gone.

“I’ll get the shuttle started,” Kira stated and walked towards the shuttles at the edge of the camp.

Not a second later, I felt another hand brush mine, startling me out of my thoughts and I turned around. “Theron?”

Theron Shan smiled a bit awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck. “Jedi Battlemaster, huh?”

I shuffled my feet and looked down. “Yeah, that surprised me too.”

“I suppose we’re both going to be pretty busy.”

“Guess so…” I looked back over the ridge across the lush green jungle moonscape of Yavin IV. I took a deep breath as the wind blew through my hair.

“So Jy… I guess this is...”

I spun quickly and grabbed his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. He startled, but then opened his mouth and met my tongue with his own. He wrapped his arms around me, one of his hands lowering to my waist, palm spread out slightly as one of his fingers slightly hooked underneath my belt. A flash of memory of this morning where a very similar kiss led into a shuttle caused my cheeks to heat up slightly. Slowly easing myself out of the thought, on how much I wanted to get lost in his arms again, I lowered my hands to rest on his chest and pulled out of the kiss, both of us breathless. I attempted to play it cool as I said, “Don’t be a stranger, Agent Shan.”

He smiled softly and his eyes seemed to twinkle as he leaned his head against mine. He traced his fingers against my cheek and whispered softly, “I won’t.”

I slowly opened my eyes and wondered when I’d drifted off. The pilot chair wasn’t the most comfortable place to nap, but I supposed I was tired. Pinching the bridge of my nose I leaned back in the seat and sorted through my thoughts. The Defender was quiet as it usually was when I opted to take the night shift. No bickering over space or Doc being a bit confused why he was suddenly thinking of all his old ex-girlfriends. I usually used this time to meditate.

Or accidentally fall asleep and dream about...

It’d been months without a holo. Just a small message about actually having caf with his mother. That’s progress though, so I don’t begrudge him that. It’s not like I’d entirely made a lot of time to reach out either, so I couldn’t pin it all on him. Flying from planet to planet, seeing where I can lend my hand with the war effort or even some of the little things like Master Orgus reminded me, didn’t always lend me a lot of time to go to Carrick Station or Coruscant just to see what a good-looking SIS Agent was up to.

The planet I was in orbit of wasn’t extremely remarkable, though that was from the eyes of someone who had been staring at it for the last five days. It was an unnamed Jovian type gas giant, swirling with green and teal colors of gas. It had two ringed belts, one full of asteroids and the other vibrant and as colorful as the world surrounding it. The two rings intersected in an X shape.

There has been a mine there within the asteroid belt, though it had been long abandoned many years ago. There were some fairly rare minerals that had been mined from within the asteroids and within the gas giant itself. There were numerous reports of a space whale like creature called Purrgils that frequented this system as well. Those creatures were apparently fairly notorious for knocking spacers out of hyperspace so I had to fly carefully in this region. I vaguely recalled images of them, which reminded me of something I used to dream of as a child. The dreams didn’t make them out to be a menace, but no one ever said spacers told accurate tales.

The Council wanted me to send a few probes within the system to assess its strategic worth. An odd task for the Jedi Battlemaster I thought. I’m a Jedi, not a Scientist. I solved problems easier with a lightsaber. But I could sense there was definitely more within this system than just a simple mineral assessment. Though this seemed it would have been better to just send an actual expert in this field. Everything I found I just forwarded to Barsen’thor Sheridan to show to her scientist companion, Tharan Cedrix.

I thought I caught a blip of a lifesign flying into the gas giant when suddenly, a holo comm started breaking through. Staticky at first, I fiddled with the settings.

“--repeat: Repubic call sign Aurek Nen—hey! Finally!”

It felt like time stopped. I was walking through a desolated world: buildings, ground, even the sun all washed out in shades of brown and grey. My own bright white clothing, faded with the terrain. As soon as the vision hit, it was over, and I heard Theron’s voice trying to get my attention.

Snapping out of it, I took a quick breath and quickly responded, “Theron. Are you all right?”

His voice came across frantic. “That would be a negative, Master Jedi! I’m in Imperial space, over Ziost. Tried to slip in, help out my ground team, but I used the wrong set of clearance codes and shields are low!”

I furrowed my brow slightly but tried to keep mostly calm. “Focus on getting yourself to safety, then we’ll talk. “

“No, you really need to hear what I have to say. I was getting reports: demented soldiers; slave and civilian populations under fire. Had suspicions of what it meant, but I wasn’t sure.” My heart sunk even lower as he continued speaking. “I sent a team in dark to investigate, maybe handle it, but it’s all gone out of control now. I think it’s him. The Emperor.”

“I’m supposed to be the first one you contact when it comes to him, not your last resort,” I snapped.

“I should have said something—I know.”

I closed my eyes briefly to try to settle my own racing heartbeat.

He continued, “Sending through the right set of clearance codes along with the coordinates to meet my-- “ There was a loud explosion and he lost balance as his ship rattled. “I’m hit! Going to try to land this thing! Don’t come looking for me, I’ll—”

“Theron? Theron, come in!” I frantically tried to get the signal back. When that didn’t work, I just mashed the buttons on console and the Defender quickly jumped into hyperspace.

#swtor fanfiction #theron shan x jedi knight #theron shan #female jedi knight/hero of tython #oc: jyana kai #otp: come what may #fic: countdown #ziost #swtor: rise of the emperor #swtor #fanfic #i told yall it was coming soon #here it is #hopefully i can be consistent with publishing #maybe

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