#today i learned divide layers are magic

[c-is-for-circinate]

Elements of real science I'd love to see in more fictional magic systems

Categories are defined by people, not by nature, and way looser around the edges than everyone thinks. "We like to divide spell-casting into rituals, runic magic, instantaneous spells, and curses or blessings, but the 'curse or blessing' category has more to do with how long a spell LASTS than how it's SET, and the line between ritual and inscribed runes gets really blurry in places..."

Models of 'how this works' that get taught to little kids which are fully debunked later as 'over-simplified and actually totally inaccurate, but a good way to learn, this is better', only to be replaced two years of study after that because, 'actually that was also a lie for the sake of learning, learn this one instead'. "Yes, we teach kids that planes stack in layers and sometimes holes form between them, and I know last year we covered the Humperdink Theory Of Planar Interweaving where those so-called holes are areas of enmeshment with the fibers of multiple planes at once, but today we're finally going to talk about the Planar Mosaic Model."

Frenzies of curiosity each time something unexpected happens, as wizards try to figure out, if this is a divergence from the pattern they THOUGHT they knew, then what is the bigger pattern? IE, "We've seen the Power of Friendship be insufficient to slaying this balrog for years! Why were these particular adventurers finally able to do it now?"

Basically, magic not as an objective force of the universe, but a hodgepodge thing humans made up to try and talk about and interface with the truth of the actual universe.

"Yes, we've been studying the lore and secrets of the universe for a thousand years. Things still just happen sometimes! That's why it's magic!"

#magic #worldbuilding #writerly business

[homebasedfitnessequipment]

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[jonnyparable]

Cottage Hills : A Winter Tale, Part VI

Brooms and Brews

Meanwhile, far outside town, its morning in the Misty Woods, the snow has only just started to fall on Firethorn Castle. But not that Won and Elli notice, as they start Elli's advanced training, sequestered away in the stone walls of the castle.

Won:

"Today we embark on helping you understand all the different fields of magic, Elli, and at the end of your time here, you should be better equipped to find your gifting, and choose a specialised path for yourself."

Elli :

"Choose a path? Me? Won't grandma decide for me? Won't I just be a healer like her, and inherit her duties?"

Won:

"To be a true witch, you will need to choose a speciality to excel in, a path to walk down. Magic users throughout history have often specialised in just one field, like the Elmsleys, who have passed down knowledge on the healing arts within their own family. But it is your grandmother's express wish that you be exposed to all manner of witchcraft, so that you might make a more informed decision on your own. No one can make that decision for you, but yourself."

Won :

"Now, the use of magic can be historically divided into the making of Potions & Brews, Herbology, Spells, Magical Objects, Magical Travel andToxicology. Write this down, Elli, don't daydream! Potions typically permanently alter a Sim. Brews, known widely as Cups, like the ones your grandmother makes are usually temporal mood altering tonics. The Elmsleys have always been gifted healers and herbalists, and your grandmother's healing speciality was magical midwifery. Next, let's talk about some of the advanced spells you'll be learning with me. Elli are you listening?..."

Won drolls on for the rest of the morning, and in the afternoon, he teaches Elli about poison making. Elli hasn't really had time to digest what he's told her, she's been too busy taking down notes. Won doesn't notice that she is getting a little overwhelmed.

Won goes on about the different types of poisons he knows of, of the different ingredients, how to use them and by the time he's done, and Elli is dismissed, it's almost evening. Elli walks out into the quad and looks glumly at the grass as it gets slowly covered by a layer of snow, deep in thought.

With her head spinning from all the knowledge she's received, she thinks about what lies ahead of her. The choices she will have to make, and the skills she will have to master. It's all so daunting, and she feels so unprepared for it all. She hears someone walk up behind her.

Won:

"Is everything alright, Elli?"

Elli :

"Oh hello Won... No not really..I was just thinking... What if I make the wrong choice... And disappoint those I love? There's so much to learn... I don't know if I can do it, what if I fail? There's just so much weighing on me alone...I wish I didn't have the gift of magic now..."

A look of comprehension washes over Won.

Won:

"I...shall we take a walk?"

Won:

"When I was younger, everything I knew, my father taught me. He was knowledgeable, but he also expected so much from me. Everyday, it was just hours of studying. I never got to play, or make friends with other wizards, or choose what I wanted in life. Like you, I often felt that the magic inside of me was a curse, not a gift, that robbed me of a normal life.... I apologise that I made you feel the same way, but you're not alone, Elli. You have me, and your family. We all just want you to do what feels right for you."

Elli:

"That must have been tough, growing up like that..."

Won:

"Yes, but it is that way for most witches and wizards. We often stick to our own kind, inherit skills from our parents, jealously guarding our gifts, and we never really learn from each other or share any knowledge... It makes for such an isolated and dark world of magic, don't you think? And we are all the lesser for it."

Elli:

"Is that why grandma sent me here to learn with you instead? ... "

Won :

"Perhaps. Your grandmother could have easily trained you herself and teach you to walk the same path she did, like all the Elmsleys before her, but I suppose she wants you to know more than her."

They walk up to a statue of a woman in the garden. Her features are worn by time, but from what they can make out, the statue still looks menacing. Elli thinks about what Won said.

Won :

"You and the people of this town are kind, Elli. So unlike everywhere else I've been. But there is still much I feel I need to atone for. This is my ancestor, Hestia Firethorn. Centuries ago, she and the other Firethorns abused their gifts to bring much suffering to the people of this town, they brought division to the founders, and broke the bond between our families. She sits like a stone on my conscience."

Elli:

"...Won, I think I understand why I'm truly here... I'm not just here to learn from you, maybe I can help you too. If magic truly is a gift, then I'll use mine to help you mend the past, and to build a new bond between our two magical families! Whatever path I choose, I know it will be for the good of the townsfolk. And together, the Firethorns and Elmsleys will serve the villagers, just like we did all those years ago when the town was founded!"

Won smiles as he places a hand on Elli's shoulder.

Won :

"Yes, Elli, you're right. We have each other now! Say Elli, let's do something fun. You wanna learn to fly today?"

They spend the evening zooming around on their broomsticks. It's the most fun Elli has had all day, even though its cold, the air feels bracing and revitalises her.

Elli is a natural at flying, and takes to it in no time. As she starts soaring high above the ramparts, feeling freer than ever before, she suddenly hears Won calling out urgently to her below.

The sky has gotten dark and the blizzard has blown into the woods, covering the forest in a dark shadowy blanket of swirling mist and ice.

Won:

"Sorry Elli, but this is no weather for flying. Looks like a blizzard. We better head inside for the night."

Elli:

"I hope everyone in town will be ok."

#the sims 2 #ts2 pictures #ts2 screenshots #ts2 neighborhood #ts2 scenery #sims 2 #cottage hills #sims 2 simblr #harvest moon tree of life #A Winter Tale

[mdelpin]

Male Order Bride - Chapter 2

AO3 | Prev: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Next: Ch 3

Chapter 2

Gray examined the crowd of people, attempting to figure out what they were doing there. There were a lot of young couples in attendance, which seemed strange for an old building away from the town center. Several recognized him and offered a friendly wave.

It appeared Lyon hadn’t caught the guy yet, as he observed some of his father’s hirdmen walking around the room and studying the faces of those assembled. Gray was further impressed by the fire mage, although considering his outlandish appearance, it probably wouldn’t be long before they found him. He kept an eye out, hoping to catch sight of him again.

Gray continued to explore the large room, careful to avoid any attempts at conversation. He noticed a platform at the back decorated in silver and blue, the colors of Isvan, while a colorful sign welcomed everyone to the Isvan Employment Auction.

Employment Auction? He’d never heard of that before.

“What are you doing here? I thought I heard Erza say you went home.”

Gray recognized Lyon’s voice behind him and turned to smirk at his friend. “Never thought I’d see the day someone else would put you in your place.”

“It’s just a matter of time. He’s in here somewhere.”

Lyon didn’t seem concerned in the slightest, instead looking around the room with an odd smile. “This place takes me back.”

“Huh? Back to what?”

“Don’t you remember? This is where your Dad found Ur and hired her to take care of your sorry ass.”

“Here?”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot we met later.” Lyon pointed to the platform, “Right up there. The organizers had demanded I wait in some back room, but Ur wouldn’t have it. Your dad came to see what the commotion was. That’s how they met.”

“What is this place?”

“Well, most of the time it serves as a storage building for merchant cargo, with the occasional dock worker meeting thrown in. But twice a year it hosts this employment thing for women. They can get hired as governesses, teachers, housekeepers, nannies, you name it. Ur had heard about it when we were in Brago. It’s what brought us here, actually. She’d wanted us to start a new life. You know, after everything.”

Back then, Gray hadn’t cared about where Ur and Lyon had come from, but he struggled to accept that Ur’s introduction into his life had stemmed from anywhere so ordinary.

He’d resented her at first, convinced she was trying to replace his mother. But once her magic lessons began, he’d cast all those feelings aside. Ur was strong. Stronger than any other ice mage he’d ever met. He’d figured if he worked hard and learned everything he could from her, he’d soon be able to avenge his mother and grandfather, and the countless others who had died at the hands of that foul demon. Lyon had been the perfect training partner, equally determined to push through all their limits.

Why had he never thought to ask him why? He’d always known Ur wasn’t Lyon’s mother, but it startled him to realize that even after all these years, he had no clue how they’d ended up together. Lyon was the closest thing he’d ever had to a brother, and it disheartened him to realize how little he truly knew about him.

He opened his mouth to say something, but never got the chance as a man he recognized as Invel Yura, one of his father’s advisors, stepped onto the platform and commanded everyone’s attention.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I am pleased to welcome you to this year’s Winter Employment Auction.”

The participants crowded around the platform eagerly, applauding the announcement.

“As many of you might know, our late Chief, Sterling Fullbuster, founded the Employment Auction over twenty-five years ago.” Invel peered at the audience, smiling when he recognized Gray.

“An ardent supporter of women’s rights, Chief Sterling sought to create a safe environment for women to find employment in our great town. Over the years, we have helped place hundreds of women, and as word of our experiment has reached other towns, we have seen increased participation. We are proud to continue this tradition, and we hope that our future Chief, who is with us today, will see fit to continue it for many years to come.”

Gray groaned internally, even as he smiled and waved at those who acknowledged him, realizing he now had no choice but to stay until the conclusion of the event. He attempted but failed to ignore Lyon’s laughter at his predicament. With a parting clap on the shoulder, Lyon informed him he was returning to his search, promising to check in with him later.

He listened as Invel followed his introduction with an explanation of how the auction worked. It seemed to be divided into three phases. In the first phase, employers received a clipboard with several bid forms and were allotted two hours to interview candidates. Each candidate wore a pin on her right shoulder that showed her identification number.

Once time was up, the second phase began. Employers submitted their bids at the platform, placing them into envelopes marked with the candidate’s identification number. Each bid needed to describe the job duties and pay offered clearly.

During the third phase, all candidates would receive their envelopes. They would then evaluate the enclosed offers and pick out the job situation that most appealed to them. Should any issues arise, Invel would mediate them. Seemed simple enough.

With the explanation now at an end, Invel announced the candidates’ entrance and ceded the platform.

Gray was curious to see how many women were taking part, considering the number of people present, but Invel’s approach blocked his view.

Invel bowed his head briefly, and then immediately launched into a scolding. “This is most unusual, Master Gray. All prospective employers must pass a thorough investigation before being allowed to take part. It is one of the safety measures we’ve set in place. Given your position, however, I will allow it this one time. In the future, see that you submit a request in advance.”

Invel thought he was here to hire someone? For what, court jester? Lyon already filled that role nicely. Still, it was easier to play along than attempt to explain how he’d gotten there.

“I apologize, I wasn’t thinking. Thank you for your understanding.”

He accepted the clipboard Invel offered him with a polite smile.

“Of course,” Invel said, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I see someone trying to get my attention. Good luck.”

Gray killed time by walking around the room and trying to blend in, half-listening to conversations around him while keeping an eye out for his mystery man. He still found it hard to believe Ur had been a part of one of these. None of the participants seemed remotely like her. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when he recognized one candidate.

Shit! What in Hel’s name was Lucy Heartfilia doing here? She’d been the last girl he’d sent home before Juvia. Was she here because of that? Should he go talk to her?

Just as he was deciding it would be best for him to avoid her, another girl joined her. One that immediately drew his interest. Her steps were awkward, and she seemed ill at ease in the formal clothes. Her walk reminded him of a young Erza proudly showing off her first pair of heels, even though she could barely walk in them.

Her pink hair came down to her shoulders in loose waves, while the blue gown she wore contrasted nicely against her tanned skin. At first glance, Gray merely thought her a beautiful girl, until he got a good glimpse at her face.

His eyes widened as he recognized the features. He forgot all about avoiding Lucy, compelled by the need to know if he was right.

“Hi Lucy.”

“Gray.”

Her tone was not welcoming in the slightest, but he ignored it, smiling at her as if they were old friends. His gaze soon shifted to her companion, hoping to force her to speak. If he was right about who she was, she’d try to avoid it.

“Hello, I’m Gray Fullbuster, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Gray offered his hand in greeting. The girl had been about to shake it when Lucy noticed.

“Natsu!”

The girl’s hand stopped in midair, and she peered at Lucy in confusion. Gray smirked, that was one point for him.

“Natsu, that’s a lovely name, and something we could certainly use a lot more of in Isvan.”

She tilted her head, frowning cutely at him.

“It means summer, doesn’t it?”

“Oh yes, it does,” Natsu replied in a silken voice, which was not at all what Gray had been expecting. Could he be wrong? Was she just a small-town girl who’d come to Isvan in search of a job and was understandably nervous?

“What sorts of jobs are you interested in?”

“We’re looking to be nannies, or governesses. Something I know you’re not in any need of, so if you’ll just excuse us,” Lucy grabbed Natsu’s hand and yanked her away towards a young couple.

Natsu tried to keep up, but ended up losing her balance. Gray was quick to catch her, and as he did, he felt her magic flare, materializing into a thin layer of flames that traveled across her arms.

“Let go of me!”

She struggled in his arms; the flames spreading as she did so, skirting ever closer to the fabric of her dress. Gray’s eyes darted up to follow their path, noting absently that her pin had the number seven emblazoned on it. “I don’t want to hur-.”

“Steady there,” Gray interrupted, smiling down at her as he called on his magic, coating her arms in an icy mist that quickly put out the flames before they could blaze out of control.

Natsu’s jaw dropped as Gray dispelled his flames, “How did you do that?”

Gray wasn’t able to respond right away, for after the initial satisfaction at having succeeded, he’d peered into Natsu’s eyes and now found himself utterly lost in them. He’d never seen any more beautiful. Bursts of green converged on a gold-rimmed pupil, reminding him of the early morning nature walks he’d once taken with his mother in the summers. And when those eyes met his, Gray couldn’t help but recognize the fear and desperation that lurked in their depths.

Pink hair, tanned skin, fire magic, fear - not to mention the awkward way she carried herself. Everything pointed to this being the guy Lyon was after but made up to look and sound like a strikingly beautiful woman. Hell, he’d done such a good job it would even convince Silver.

Natsu must have gotten help from someone here. No, not someone. Gray knew exactly who.

Lucy Heartfilia.

What was her magic? He wracked his brain but couldn’t remember, and that more than anything forced him to acknowledge he'd barely paid any attention to her during their meeting, or to any of the others. But none of that mattered right now because he had a choice to make.

“I just used my magic to push yours back,” Gray finally replied, struggling to keep his voice level so as not to give away that he knew Natsu’s identity.

Natsu gazed at him, his mouth suddenly breaking into a lopsided grin that elicited a strange fluttering in Gray’s chest and complicated his thoughts further.

“Let’s gooo, Natsu,” Lucy urged, and while Natsu had seemed ready to protest, she spun around and followed.

Gray turned to see what had spooked her and spotted Lyon walking swiftly towards them. He could tell from his friend’s expression that he’d already reached the same conclusion.

What should he do, which side should he take?

Gray was the future Chief of Isvan. He knew well that his thoughts should be on the danger this man could pose to his people. But that brief interaction had shown him his instincts had been correct. Natsu didn’t appear to have control over his magic, and Gray had sensed no malice coming from him. In fact, it had been just the opposite. He'd acted terrified when his magic had flared. It just didn’t add up.

Still, Lyon was his best friend, his foster brother, and he didn’t want to get him in trouble either.

Then Gray thought about how his heart had felt at the sight of that grin and how he’d considered Natsu’s appearance could fool even Silver, and a plan formed in his mind.

Confident that Natsu didn’t pose a danger to Isvan, Gray considered pursuing a different choice. One that could both help him and protect Natsu from the hird until he could learn control of his magic.

The more he thought about it, the more convinced Gray became it was the only way to get out of this wedding mess. If he could persuade Natsu to pretend to be his fiancee, he wouldn’t have to marry Juvia and it would give him time to see if something could blossom between them.

He grabbed Lyon by the arm, ignoring his protests as he searched for a place where they could speak privately.

“We need to talk.”

0-0

Gray found a small office near the building’s entrance and shoved Lyon inside. He closed the door behind them and launched into a swift explanation of his plan, but Lyon wouldn’t even let him finish.

“Absolutely not!”

“You’re being unreasonable. Erza said no one was hurt in any of the fires. You must have felt his magic signature. If that were his intent, why only target abandoned buildings?”

“To gauge our response for when he launches his actual attack.”

Gray groaned as he recognized Lyon’s stubborn streak kicking in. He didn’t have time to argue. For his plan to work, he’d need to put a bid in soon.

“What did you expect me to say?” Lyon crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t know the first thing about this guy, and what little you know points to him being a criminal.”

“He’s terrified. I could see it in his eyes when he lost control a few moments ago. You didn’t see his face when I pushed his fire back. He was relieved.”

“He lost control here?! That’s even more reason to keep him away from our house. He could hurt everyone we care about.”

Lyon had that I know better than you expression on his face that Gray hated with every fiber of his being.

“While surrounded by ice mages?” he snapped, struggling to keep his temper in check despite Lyon’s attitude. He’d known this wouldn’t be easy, but he’d hoped Lyon would be more willing to see his side. Screw it, if logic wouldn’t work then he’d go for pity. It’s not like he wasn’t desperate.

“When I talked with him earlier, I felt something.”

“You just met him, Gray.”

“I know that, but feeling something is already more than the nothing I feel for Juvia. And if I don’t find someone soon, I’ll have no choice but to marry her on my birthday. Fader said so after you left.”

“He said that?”

Lyon looked away, the first outward sign that he was weakening.

“Time’s up, please enter your bids now,” Invel’s voice echoed through the building’s speaker lacrima, injecting an air of urgency to their conversation.

Lyon had shifted his gaze back to him, his eyes boring into him for what seemed like a lifetime. Gray held his breath, worried the slightest gesture from him might work against him.

“I won’t pretend to understand the attraction you feel toward guys, but I can’t imagine how I’d feel if Ur forced me into a marriage.” He remained silent for a few more moments before announcing, “I’m so going to regret this.”

It took Gray a full minute for the meaning to seep into his brain, but once it did, he beamed with excitement. “I knew I could count on you!”

Lyon grinned, “You mean you knew you could con me.”

Gray didn’t have time to refute the charge as Lyon swiftly turned serious, “Just promise me you’ll be careful,”

“I will.”

And he meant it. He understood the trust Lyon was placing in him, and he would do his best to be worthy of it.

“I gotta go put in my bid,” Gray reached for the doorknob, but Lyon grabbed his arm.

“Hold on there, Romeo. You’re going to have to hire someone for real.”

“What? Why?”

“Invel saw you, dumbass. I’m sure he’ll mention it to Silver. If you only show up with your dream girl, Silver will know something’s up.”

“Oh.”

Gray hadn’t considered that, but had to admit it made sense. Who could he hire and for what? The only other person he’d talked to was Lucy, and he was pretty sure she hated his guts.

But if she’d helped Natsu, he should probably monitor her too, just in case he was wrong about all this.

“Oh, and Gray?” Lyon said as Gray opened the door.

Gray turned his head impatiently, waiting to hear what Lyon had to say, even though he was pretty sure he already knew.

“If he refuses your offer, I will arrest him.”

Gray scowled at the words but nodded his understanding. He’d just have to make sure that didn’t happen.

As Lyon issued new orders to his men through his communication lacrima, Gray offered a silent prayer to his favorite deity.

He had a feeling Loki would understand where he was coming from..

0-0

“I can’t wait to see how many bids I got!” Lucy said as they stood with the other candidates, waiting for the organizer to arrive with their envelopes.

“I just want to get out of here.”

The last two hours had been incredibly stressful for Natsu. He’d felt ill at ease with all the stares and attempts at conversation, not to mention the uncomfortable clothes Lucy had forced him to wear. It had taken all of his self-control not to run out of there. When that light blue-haired hirdman had walked towards them, he’d thought he’d get arrested for sure.

The organizer finally got to them, checking the numbers on their pins against the large envelopes he was carrying and handing them each one. They both thanked him.

“I bet you I got a bunch,” Lucy said while opening her envelope, “I was killing it out there!”

Natsu held on to his envelope but didn’t bother opening it, assuming it was empty. Instead, he watched the expressions of the other women with interest. There were a lot of happy tears, and it made him feel good that things had gone well for them.

“One?! I got one stinking offer? Don’t these people know who I am?”

Natsu turned his attention back to Lucy, alarmed by the loudness of her voice. “Hey Lucy, can you keep it down? We’re trying to avoid attention, remember?”

“Right,” Lucy said, her voice coming back down to normal levels. “I’m sorry, it’s just when I stuck around here for this I thought I’d have lots of choices, you know?”

“Well, but one is better than none, right?”

“I suppose.”

“What’s it for, anyway? Is it from that guy that kept staring at your boobs?” Natsu nudged her with his shoulder, trying to get her out of her foul mood.

“Ew, I hope not,” Lucy giggled, “You’re right though, I bet it’s gonna be something great, and at least I won’t have to go back home.”

He should have realized her sudden silence wasn’t a good sign, but he was too busy thinking about how he couldn’t wait to get back into his clothes to notice. His thoughts wandered back to that ice mage, wishing he’d been able to talk to him longer and ask him for help with his problem. He’d seemed like an okay guy.

“That sonofabitch! Does he think he’s funny? Is that it? Is he trying to ruin my life?”

Lucy continued to rant, getting progressively louder. All the other candidates had moved away from them and the man who had handed them their envelopes was making his way towards them, his features set in a scowl. Natsu wanted nothing more than to leave his friend there and make a run for it, ridiculous shoes and all. He could feel his magic surging and his panic mounted.

“Shh, Lucy, please!”

Natsu closed his eyes, resigned to his imminent arrest, this time for disturbing the peace.

“Invel, you may return to your duties, I’ll handle this.”

“Of course, Master Gray, I’ll leave it in your capable hands.”

“You!”

The venom in Lucy’s voice surprised Natsu but not as much as recognizing the other voice. It belonged to the guy who had caught him earlier, who, now that he thought about it, had acted as if he knew Lucy. His pulse sped up as he realized there was still a chance to ask him for help.

“So, you finally found someone who wasn’t quite so... what was it you said? Oh yes, perky,” Lucy seethed, “and now you want me to be your nanny? Do you even know what your little stunt cost me?”

“Look, I’m sorry about the whole turning you down thing,” Gray said, “It was nothing personal, okay? I’m sure you’re perfect.”

“Damn right I am!”

Natsu looked from one to the other, completely lost to what was going on.

“Could you keep your voice down?” Gray hissed, “I just want a minute to plead my case before you decide.”

“She only got the one offer,” Natsu revealed without thinking.

“Seriously?” Gray laughed, “Must be her charming personality.”

Natsu wanted to laugh at the retort, but he knew better than to provoke Lucy when she was seriously pissed. “Dude, you are so not helping your case.”

He frowned, hating how strange his voice sounded.

“Oh, right.” Gray ran his fingers through his hair, and flashed a sheepish grin that, while oddly distracting to Natsu, did nothing to placate Lucy.

“Well, you can take your job offer and shove it where the sun doesn't shine.”

Gray’s shoulders slumped at her words, “I already said I was sorry, didn’t I? Besides, I only wrote nanny cause it was something you were considering. You can do whatever you want. If you’d bothered to look at the actual offer, you’d see the pay is more than fair.”

Lucy examined the paper, her eyes widening as she read the offer over, finally looking up at Gray with a guarded expression. “I don’t understand.”

“I’ll be happy to explain, but not here. I’ll need both of you for what I have in mind. Well, to be honest, it’s up to Natsu. If she doesn’t agree, then the offer is off,” Gray said, turning to Natsu.

“You want my help?”

“Yeah, didn’t you see my offer?”

“There’s something in here?” Natsu opened his envelope, saw there were several pieces of paper inside, and snapped it shut quickly.

“Well? Let’s see it,” Lucy gave him a curious glance, “What did he put down on yours?”

“Um, it doesn’t matter. He can just tell me.”

“Honestly, I’d rather you read it, it’s kind of embarrassing.”

“It, uh, doesn’t matter what it is,” Natsu said, hiding the envelope behind his back, “I’m happy to do it as long you promise to help me with my magic.”

“Yeah, sure, I can do that.”

Gray looked relieved and Natsu wondered what he’d just gotten himself into, but it didn’t really matter. Lucy had saved him from the hirdmen, and it seemed as if she wouldn’t have a job if he didn’t accept. Plus, he wasn’t afraid of hard work, and getting help in controlling his increasingly erratic magic would make it worth his while.

“Alright, then you have yourself a deal,” Natsu offered his hand to seal the deal, not knowing how to respond when Gray pulled it up to his mouth for a kiss instead of shaking it.

It was then he understood two things. First, why Lucy had yelled at him earlier. It hadn’t occurred to him that girls rarely shook hands. Second, and by far the most important, Gray thought he was a girl.

He was about to clear that up when a more pressing issue presented itself. The hirdman who’d been chasing him earlier walked up to them, and although Natsu desperately wanted to run away, he knew he couldn’t do that without giving himself away. He only hoped that the guy would leave quickly and not look at him too closely.

“Everything okay over here, Gray?”

“Everything’s fine!” Gray smiled, “I’d like you to meet Natsu. And you remember Lucy?”

“Yes, of course, lovely to see you again, Lucy,” The hirdman bowed slightly to both of them, gazing at Natsu with open curiosity.

“Natsu love, I’d like you to meet Lyon, my foster brother.”

That guy was Gray’s foster brother?!

That complicated everything! How could he tell Gray the truth about who he was now?

He couldn’t and he didn’t like what that implied. The more agitated he became, the more his magic roared, itching to get out. Natsu had almost given up on containing it when Gray placed his hand on the small of his back, reining in the fire that churned inside him with one simple gesture.

Natsu didn't understand the how or why of it, but it made him realize that the safest place for him right now was by Gray’s side, at least until he could regain control of his magic. So he met Lyon’s gaze and flashed him his most disarming smile.

“It’s so nice to meet you.”

#fairy tail #gratsu #update #fic #gray x natsu #male order bride #mob #ch 2

[2ofswords]

Phi talks factions, ruling families, and endings yet again

After long long last I finished my talk about the factions! So let’s talk about them! There is some discourse about it on here and most of it is really interesting and I wanted to throw my own takes into the mix.

Also, will put this in the very beginning: This essay is very long and hinges on a lot of analysation of very broad topics of the game. It is very possible that I make mistakes in it. I would be delighted to know about them and engage in discussion, but please stay friendly. I tried my best to research and to stay analytical, but I am firstly human and secondly human with a memory that can fail me.

Anyway without further ado: Let’s begin the faction talk!

Prologue: Personal sympathy

This is supposed to be more of an analysation about how the factions work in my opinion. It is not supposed to be an explanation why my favourite faction is the Best™. Still, my opinions will obviously influence my own analysis. So for the sake of levelling the playing field and not even trying to play coy about it – or in case you were curious what my personal opinions are – I will start by listing my own opinions about the factions, the families and the endings.

I consider myself a Utopian but also have a soft spot for the Humble ideology. I just really like progress, I am an idealist who thinks striving for a perfect situation has value (even if I do not believe in practical perfection) and I just really like the Kains’ visions okay? Not their executions, mind you, but their visions. (I am just really really obsessed with magic that involves time and space as a concept…) And I think the concept of human potential is one of the most hopeful and important ones to society and trying to get more out of being a human being is just an important concept to me.  But I also think the personal responsibility is really important and interesting and the thought about individuality vs. society is something that needs to be discussed, so the humbles are just really interesting to me and I sympathise with a lot going on there as well. Not that much of a Termite person though. Sorry

Concerning the endings: If I would be in a position to choose any ending for the town, I would choose the Termite Ending. I would just be really unhappy about it… But it is the only ending that doesn’t involve any direct sacrifice of life and I value that the most, even if I think the trade-off is still pretty devastating. I am still a Utopian, but potential lives in people. The ending I consider second best is actually the Utopian one and by process of elimination I like the Humble ending the least. You will probably learn why this is the case when we get to talk about the endings, so I am saving my argument for later. If it is about how much I like the endings from a narrative perspective: I am a passionate fan of the Utopian ending even though that is very frustrating since I see it in a rather… peculiar way, I think. I also love the Humble ending a lot and it just has the most personal tragedy and a lot to think about. The Termite ending… eh. It serves its purpose and is necessary but not really pleasing in analysis. Or if it is, it’s still a bit frustrating to talk about. It is very useful for writing fanfiction though. ^^

I don’t really have a favourite ruling family. I think the Saburovs are the most sympathetic, but I am also fascinated by the Kains. My favourite members are Victor and Capella. 

Okay? Cool, now that we got that out of the way let’s start with the actual faction talk.

 Part 1: What the factions are (and what they aren’t)

The factions are categories that are very broad and not very concrete. It is probably a good idea to talk about what they are first, before we make any statements about them. So, let us start how I look at them and what the factions stand for, before debating the rest.

Firstly: The factions are a part of classic Pathologic. From what I can tell and remember, they haven’t been mentioned in Pathologic 2 at all. Of course, we can see the struggle of different worldviews there as well, but the split cast of important NPCs is not mandatory in any shape anymore and in fact Artemy is now responsible for everyone in town. While the politics between the ruling families are mentioned and the Kains as well as the Olgimskys still share their beliefs, neither the term “bound” not “faction” is introduced in the game. However that might be because we are starting with the Haruspex as our protagonist. The factions are a bit more important in the other two routes of classic Pathologic after all. The Bachelor being concerned with its politics and the Changeling with its ideology itself. So the terms might be introduced later. For now, their conflict may be a part of Patho 2 and certain aspects can be definitely seen, but they aren’t present yet. So we are mostly talking about Classic Pathologic here.

The factions are introduced in two different ways. First and foremost, they are three different ideologies that are present in the town and by definition in the entire story. It is also told, that the whole town is split into these factions and that roughly one third of the town each belongs to either faction. It is also explained, that the factions are purely made by the ideology and that people of different gender, heritage, age and class can align with different factions. (Which means that they aren’t equivalent to the different parts of town that are at least roughly divided by social status). There is also a philosophical level that strengthens the ideological importance each faction holds, but in this essay, I will focus on the ideological part and how it affects society. That means there is another layer that we won’t be touching today, but believe me, we have enough to do as it is.

The other aspect of the factions is the bound of each healer. All of the bound collectively are described as “Simons friends” at least in the Bachelor route and all of them are now split into the three factions. The name “bound” however is to be taken literally. The characters are part of the agenda each faction follows, however, that doesn’t necessarily mean, that the person one hundred percent shares the ideology of the faction! Most of them do, but it is important to keep in mind that peoples belief-systems still vary and the aligning criteria is the importance to the goal of said faction and not necessarily their own way of thinking. People’s mindset and beliefs can vary after all and some of them even have dynamic arcs (tbh Most of them have). The other way around people can be not a part of the bound of a faction and still share their beliefs. This will be important later! For the Utopians the specific bound criteria is “people who have the potential to overstep human boundaries in any way or form”. They are needed for the creation and upholding of the Utopia as it is imagined. Its goal is in some way after all to create something that oversteps the boundaries of what should be humanly possible. For the termites… well… it’s children. It’s all about the children, it is the children who are able to carry the town in the future. And for the humbles it is the sinners, whose souls are rotten to the core (I guess…). That isn’t only because the Humbles just really like sinners but they are directly needed for Clara’s solution and the Humble’s ideology of willing self-sacrifice in order to maintain society.

Okay. But what are the factions? What do they believe in?

Let’s start with the Utopians, because their whole schtick is kind of in the name. This faction is all about the potential of humanity and striving to create perfection. This is happening with the awareness that such a feat is at least deemed impossible. So, their goal is the defeat – or the power to overcome depending on who you ask – of the nature that prevents them from this kind of progress not being achievable. They value this progress and the possibility to overcome those odds over personal as well as societal comfort and justify it with the belief, that said growth would benefit society in the long run. That being said, not every Utopian thinks this strive for growth needs to be shared by everyone, though a society collectively working towards breaking limits as a whole is preferred. (An example would be Maria's explanation of the town, stating that mundane human life is very much necessary to sustain a Utopia). The Utopians are prone to brash decisions, since part of their ideology is that they are necessary to disrupt the status quo and change – even enforced one – is needed to get rid of complacency and provoke new development of the unforeseen (which is very much needed since we are working against “nature” (the literal one as well as the nature of fate and possibility). Their drawbacks are that brashness and the disregard of comfort. Their potential elitism is shown by their value of humans who try to disrupt the status quo and their adamant protection of people who can move society as “more important” and thus worthy of more protection. (However it is noteworthy that a lot of this thinking was introduced by Georgiy in Pathologic 2 and Marble Nest. I still think it is a legitimate drawback but much less used in P1, where the factions are a thing.) This doesn’t necessarily relate to elitism of an elite class (it can though!) but more so to academic elitism. On the other hand, they have the drive to move things forward, they literally are the builder of society and developers of indescribable magic.

The Termites can be considered the opposite of the Utopians. I have struggled to put a definitive description of them for quite some time because they are the group whose representatives have vastly different ways of thinking. Anyways, I have seen the Termite ideology being described as “preservation” by RagnarRox in “Pathologic 2 is an underrated masterpiece” and I think, that fits amazingly. It is about protection and regaining a status quo where everyone can live their daily lives content and as it was before. The children are supposed to be leading the town into the future, but especially in Patho 1 this is more about taking what the past has already shaped and using this as a guide instead of implementing new ideas and philosophies as the utopians and the humbles do (for better and for worse). If we look at how Capella describes her vision of the town, we can also see that it is about togetherness and comfort. Which makes sense if it is the antithesis of the utopian dream. It doesn’t sacrifice progress just because it wants to but because it endangers people’s comfort and personal safety. Disrupting the status quo can lead to catastrophe and make people unhappy, therefore it should be avoided. People should serve the community but that also means not committing to self-fulfilment that can endanger this togetherness. Khan needing to give up on his own ambitions to serve Capella’s vision of the town might be a good example for that. While there is this bond of togetherness there is also the need for leadership. Again, preservation and comfort are highly valued with the Termites and it is established by a leadership that is supposed to act as gentle but firm guidance. With the children being the bound, there is a strong emphasis on parenthood and again Capella – as the white mistress and the termite's leader – is accepted as taking the leadership together with Khan who are ruling together with love as well as fierceness. Artemy also has his journey of establishing leadership within the kin and dethroning the person who is unfit for the role. It is implementing change but to restore balance and only inside the already established rules. I would say it fits more as a case of rightful leadership that still stems from the menkhu families and Artemy proves himself while using his father’s lessons and notes. And the kids themselves are fated to lead the town itself as the chosen ones that Capella implored Isidor to protect, and set its rules, so that there are the boundaries to keep a way of living established while not needing to change this status quo and what hopefully is a harmonic way of interaction between people. So. Now that we have established what the Termites are, I think with this specific faction it is still important to also name what they aren’t. Firstly: The Termites are an ideology of the town’s future. They aren’t the kids club. Yes, all the Termites are kids, but as mentioned before the factions in themselves are a third of the population with varying members who believe the Termites to have the best solution for the town at hand. There are other members (and I will later talk about the Olgimskys and big Vlad specifically as representatives of the Termite ideology) but the kids are the bound because they are specifically needed to set this new order that they want to established. I would argue that some of the kids have principles that are more adjacent to other ideologies. The obvious one would be Khan who has goals that do not align with his family but similar dreams and more radical ideals about overthrowing the status quo. But Grace also seems to be more of a humble, focusing on caring about others and being quite selfless and self-sacrificing in her care for the dead. That means, the kids fill an important role but we have the strange conundrum that most of this factions bound isn’t together because of their ideology. I will try to take them into account still, but if you see me focusing on Capella and Artemy, this is one of the reasons. There aren’t that many people who clearly speak about the Termite’s vision. The Termites also aren’t the Kin. They are connected to each other but again, the Kin is a specific part of the town which the ideology clearly avoids. (And parts of the Kin are not part of the town and actually stand in opposition to it. Moreso in Patho 2 but with the conflict of the herb gatherers we catch a glimpse of that.) And the children are also representatives of different parts of the town and not of the Kin. The Kin are obviously linked to the towns ancient tradition and preserving their traditions honourably is Artemy’s specific journey. Still, they aren’t the same and with both Aspity and Oyun we have characters who are Kin and also part of a different faction.

Speaking of the Humbles. What’s up with them?

The Humbles also have a name that speaks for itself: It is based around the main idea of being humble. There are different consequences of this main core. The first and in my opinion most important one revolves around responsibility and self-sacrifice. The Humbles expect the individual to sacrifice part of themselves for the whole. I mean… that is quite literally what the ending is about. As with the Termites there is a togetherness but this one doesn’t revolve around looking out for each other (at least not specifically) but about looking at oneself and what you could and should do for society to work best. It puts responsibility not on a collective and its leaders but on yourself and needs you to ask what you did right, what you did wrong and how to take consequences for your own actions. This includes a chance for redemption as well as condemnation. For the purpose of evaluating yourself in contrast to society it is also about self-reflection. You need to look at yourself and at your deeds constantly and this analysation and the realization that you can and will fail as well as that you as a human being have your own limits you cannot and should not cross are what lead to humbleness in the first place. Yulia as a sinner, whose very sin is shaping the very ideology and establishing her ideals over the self. This brings us to the second pillar of the humble ideology: fatalism. It is also to see yourself in context of a greater scheme and accepting these very boundaries. Fulfilling your duty in the way the universe demands of you and seeing yourself unavoidably as a puzzle piece of said force is a big deal for a lot of the Humbles. Yulia is the prime example. Lara actively dislikes her fatalism but still follows her father’s footsteps in her attempt to assassinate Block. Aspity moves in the constriction of the Kin and her fate while still being the one who advocates most for change. The Saburovs are all about law and order albeit in different ways. Oyun cannot do what is entrusted to him which causes his horrible deeds in the first place, because he cannot accept at first that he is not fit for the position (or as the words of a humble: not destined for it). And Clara is struggling with what her fate imposes on her and her very being while trying to control her circumstances as well as the fate of the people entrusted to her.  It all is about analysing but also about abiding to the whims of fate and facing the consequences of acting either against it, failing it or resorting to violence against society to fulfil it in the first place.

As you may see, all of these categories are rather broad. Of course, they are, they are made to encompass very different views of the world from different characters. When Victor speaks about working towards overcoming bounds he sure as hell means something different than Andrey. Hell, Dankovsky has no idea what Georgiy is talking about half the time! Lara and Yulia are both Humbles, yet Lara explicitly states that she hates the way Yulia weaves her fatalism in her ideology about the self. And well… the Termites are a very special case regarding the factions in general, being more of a symbol of their ideology than its actual believers. So let's get to the meat of this whole post. We now have a grasp on what the factions are about, but… why? Why are they in the game, what are they trying to say?

 Part 2: Presentation of the factions and the ruling families

Well… after making an incredibly long introduction, let’s stop talking around the bush. Here is my conclusion about the game’s stance of the factions: … … I am sorry to conclude, that all of them suck. All of them. They are the worst and none of them are worthwhile in themselves. I am sorry. 

Okay, okay, okay. Obviously, they are not only terrible. They have their upsides and all of their ideals are rather beautiful. Making potential become a reality is great! So is comfort and stability, we all could sure as hell use some of that! And the principle of giving something of yourself into society, taking responsibility and the ability to care into consideration… boy is that a good idea! But still… the factions suck. And that is an inherent aspect of them just because they are ideologies. And very unsubtle and uncompromising ideologies at that. To quote novel author Dorothy Sayers “The first thing a principle does is killing somebody.” A principle, if it is used without reflection, always has destructive potential. Even if it is the principle to save as many lives as possible. Put into the wrong dilemma, it will kill. (A single glance at the healer’s path’s is enough to confirm that.) And all three factions have some really potentially bad implications exactly because their ideology is so vastly applicable. It isn’t only about emergency situations, but a lifestyle that regards one way of setting priorities as absolute. Of course, that on its own must go horribly wrong! Leave one single way of thought unattended and it will guide you into fucking catastrophe!

I think the easiest way to highlight this theory and the best prove of the game’s acknowledgement of this line of thought is to take a look at the ruling families. The fact that there are three of them is no coincidence. All three families do not only represent one of the factions but also the destructive extreme this faction can develop.

Let’s start with the Kains again, because their case is the most obvious one and the theme of Utopia and thus uncompromising perfection that has a destructive force is in the fucking title of the game. And creating a project that causes the plague in the first place, forcing the Kin to dig the very hole that tears into the heart of the earth – which they sure as hell did not agree with! – conducting human experiments with their buildings and manipulating the situation so that the Polyhedron gets saved even sacrificing the town for its sake… yeah these are some pretty shitty things to do and they all relate to the Utopian ideal and their strive for development, progress and forming humanity as well as society. And sacrificing everything in order to elevate progress is… obviously a bad idea, especially if it involves using people who never consented to such a sacrifice in the first place! With only development – social as well as personal – in mind the scope of said sacrifice cannot be measured at all, leading to devaluing peoples well-being. It is a horrible thing that harms a lot of people and the strict enforcement of the Kains bring a lot of harm to the town. This damage doesn’t only turn against the town but also has a self-destructive tendency. The self-sacrifice that is demanded to keep the spirit of Simon and Nina is eating the entire family alive. Their strict family loyalties seem to have driven Khan off in the first place (though since his role is “The Termite of the Kains” and he holds a strange middle ground I think he is kind of excluded from the “most extreme faction”-stance). Victor and Georgiy are losing their own identity and eventually their life for the sake of a soul that they consider of higher status than them. And Maria loses her own self to become the next mistress and lead what is left of the town into a new age, which Victor laments as her father because he is literally losing his daughter! The family – even if they “win” the whole town conflict – is actively falling apart and is completely fractured if not destroyed in the end. Not only is the sacrifice the town has to endure obviously morally unacceptable but the disregard of comfort in favour of a greater cause is inherently self-destructive. Which leaves the question: Who is this Utopia even build for, who benefits from it, if everything but it is sacrificed? So yeah, what the Kains are doing and especially the way they are using the Utopian dream in its purest form is absolutely and incredibly flawed.

Sooo… what are our alternatives? How about the Saburovs? They are righteous and they care about people!  I mean… yeah. They do! Buuuuut… their handling of the situation is also very… debatable to put it nicely. Let’s start with the obvious: putting everyone in prison who seems mildly suspicious while a highly contagious plague is ravages the town is just… horrible. It is a prolonged and cruel death sentence to many people either desperate or innocent. And yes, he himself did it with the utmost desire to protect society as a whole from the criminals and organized street violence but… surprise, that is what the humble ideology is about! Judging the individual according to sin without taking circumstances into account is one of the extremes the Humble-ideology has. You should stay put and work towards the common good and acting against that should be judged harshly!! If taken to an extreme it disregards personal circumstances and even a human approach towards the individual. And even if it hits innocents, the few have to take personal sacrifice for the many. Giving your life to uphold stability should be considered a good thing… right? Of course, the faulty leader should also be held responsible… So the judge becomes the judged and the executor of the ideology is destroying himself. Again, we witness the ideology's self-destructive aspect when taken to the extreme. Judgement and assigning responsibility for overstepping with no account on the human situation, looking out for the other individual or questioning where established boundaries should be pushed, will lead to draconian law where the single human being doesn’t matter in the first place! And that… doesn’t sound like a society one wants to live in, does it?Katerina has her own case of judging people albeit in a religious way. Her view splits the world into the sinners and the righteous and sentences the former to death while the others will survive what she is seeing as the plague's judgement. Do I have to elaborate why this is a bad take and why judging people to death based on being a sinner is… just awful? Especially when we look at the humbles and how some of them may have done some shit but definitely not something that warrants death. (Yulia and Rubin being examples, but I also think Lara shouldn’t like… be judged with death. Well, truth to be told I think nobody should be judged with death… Ever.) So seeing the Changeling’s power as a saintly sign is… bad not only on a societal level but also bad because pressuring a teenager like that is just a the worst. Which brings us the Humble’s second point and the one that Katerina personifies as well: Personal responsibility. The Humble ideology isn’t only about sacrificing the individual and applying judgement but also about self-reflection and taking responsibility. Which sounds really good but can be devastating when taken too far. Which brings us to Katerina’s journey of becoming a mistress and her devastating experience of trying to fit into a role that was expected of her to fill. Desperately trying to fulfil a fate that seems to be yours can destroy you. Her despair of not fulfilling as a mistress as well as a wife (in her own terms) are honestly soul wrenching and tragic. And it is an example where letting go of personal duty and seeing to oneself would have been for the best.

Okay so the Saburovs establish a society that seems awful to live in and also actively destroy themselves (they also die with their ending, something they share with the Kains). Which leaves us with… the Olgimskys. And yeah… I think we all agree that they couldn’t exactly be called a beacon of goodness in the world… The way the bull enterprise is handled is exploitative to say the least, dividing the town and enabling even more racism and class distinction.  But what does that have to do with the Termites? After all, only Capella is part of the bound. Which is true but the Termite bound is also the children bound and I would dare to argue that the Olgymskys are unassigned because they represent the ruling families of the Termites but cannot apply as their bounds because of age reasons. Capella is pretty much the head of the Termites, the way Maria and Clara or Katerina are the mistresses of the other ideologies and Big Vlad… well Big Vlad is what the other ruling families are to the other factions. The best reason to stay away from it. (And I could make a point about young Vlad but to not stretch this too much, I will keep it short. Let’s just say that he has a dynamic role in the factions and more or less grows to be a Utopian and is not even really acknowledged at the Bachelor Route. I would put him in the same category as Khan and say that the Kains in themselves still are connected to the Utopian ideology. There are some really interesting parallels between Khan and Young Vlad btw. Both have strong parental issues and feel confined in their role, both appear in the letter about the Bachelor’s and the Haruspexe’s decision as a hopeful addition that isn’t fixed… I am pretty sure there is something to say about that, but this essay is not the right place for it.) There are two main themes with the Termites that are very present in the Olgimskys: stagnation and oppression. I think how the Olgimskys are specifically oppressive and moreso than the other families is pretty self-explanatory. They do not want to bind people to the law or their ideas but to themselves and especially big Vlad is very keen on ruling the town and leading its people directly and forcefully. (And while Capella is obviously the kinder part of the family, she too shares this sentiment. Her alliance with Khan is to align the two families but also to gather force with his dogheads and establish rulership.) They want to be obeyed without question or an established guidebook that gives specific reason to their judgement. But why is this specifically a problem the Termite ideology faces? Well the Termites are about ensuring peoples comfort and life and they do this for any cost. One thing this entails, is saving people from their own ambitions and forming them according to this belief. (Again, Capella’s alliance with Khan and how she sees it is a nice example). They are establishing that humanity should remain in their natural ways, complacent so to speak, while a few chosen individuals lead the town and its people. (The Termites are supposed to do this in the future that is why they need to survive in the first place.) And if we drive this belief and this “ruling as family” ideology, we arrive at Big Vlad’s doorstep. He is the father, he will take care so exactly obey to his wishes without question. Preserve the system that allows you comfort without overstepping your boundaries. Preservation of a system also means preservation of the ruling system without further questions. (And I will remind you that Forman Oyun gets overthrown because the place is not rightfully his and he sucks because of this and the right order gets restored with the right ruling family watching over the Abattoir upholding their alliance with the Olgimskys even if it is now Capella.) In its extreme the Termite ideology can lead to oppression on the guise of guidance and questioning this is not only almost impossible but only allowed to the few people already chosen as the leading caste. (Also if you want to have another look at the connection between preservation and oppression, have a look at “The Void” or “Turgor” and its Brothers which is another game by Ice Pick Lodge. Their whole stick is preserving their realm by oppressing the sisters. The Void seems to reference similar themes in general and can kind of seen as the game’s antithesis… But I digress and just wanted to recommend the game. It’s good!) Why the other problem – stagnation – is a part of preservation is easy to see, but how does it afflict the Olgimskys? Well, firstly it is a big theme in the infight the family has and the conflict that tears the Vlads apart. While Young Vlad wants to follow his legacy, he doesn’t want to follow the exact ways leading to the family breaking apart. Vlads stubbornness and his unwillingness to rectify old mistakes and… I don’t know… open the Termitary is also part of this. Closing it – while done by Young Vlad – is done to preserve the status of the town and deny the plague and its changes to society for as long as possible. A plan that is very, very costly in the long run betraying the Olgimsky’s own duty to ensure their peoples life and safety in the first place! Again, the ideology eats itself.

Of course, only talking about the most extreme and negative example isn’t entirely fair. And I think there is worth in every faction. They obviously aren’t all bad and the ruling families are twisting and radicalizing what could be a good idea. So… was this whole talk about the ruling families just some intellectual pastime that proves how the rulers are shitty but the factions in themselves aren’t? Do they only kind of suck? Or can we actually find the games stance of this radicalization and how each faction alone could affect the town negatively on a larger scale?

 Part 3: The endings of the game

So let’s talk about the endings, since they are literally established as the “successful” outcome for each of the factions. And with that I mean that the fate of the town is decided in favour of one of the factions, eradicating the others and their own hopes and ambitions in return. Best it is seen with the Utopians and the Termites, whose dreams are mutual exclusive by the destruction of the town or the Polyhedron alone. But if we consider that the ending also establishes a new way of living in town and a certain social system, we can see the same with the Humbles. (We can also see this if we think of the Humbles goal as a means to restore the town at its best in favour of personal sacrifice, which still doesn’t happen in the other endings, since part of the town gets destroyed.) For the factions, the plague also brings a chance to shift the power dynamics of a town to their direction and this is referenced by several characters trying to make use of this situation or at least struggling to maintain their power. (The ruling families are again the worst offenders of this. The Kains try to guide the Bachelor to their cause from the very beginning and a lot more deliberate in the second half. The rulers’ unwillingness to even acknowledge the plague, Saburovs’ abuse of administrative power, the way Katerina urges Clara to convert townsfolk, Capella’s alliance with the Haruspex… I can go on, but I think we have talked enough about the ruling families.) Long story short: The endings are distinctly aligned with one side of the power struggle. (By the way this isn’t necessarily the endgoal the healers are striving for. I think it is apparent by now, that I align the factions more with the ruling families rather than the healers, because the healers’ first priority is getting the plague problem solved one way or the other and there are different motives for their solutions. Also they can choose a different healers opinion so they aren’t like… one hundred percent absolutely bound by their ending even if they still align with it. But I digress yet again.) So, they – as the “win” of each faction – are a good way to see how they would hold up on themselves and without the other factions interfering. I will analyse the sacrifice they put on the town as well as the society they are striving to build up (since this is what the factions are about. Changing society). Will one of them hold up and present us with a good solution?

I will not even try to create suspense. We all know, I think that they don't. They all bear sacrifices in contrast to what we had before that make the situation actively worse. A video that sums it up better than I can is SulMatul’s “Heroism in Futility; Pathologic, The Void and the Hero Narrative”. The video is really good in general but it also makes a point of pointing out, that Pathologic as well as the void do not offer a standard “good end” where the hero saves the day, because every possible solution is tainted in one way or another. The heroism Pathologic shows (as well as “The Void”) is struggling against a doomed cause and a hopeless situation despite the odds and not about becoming victorious in it. The Artbook of Pathologic 1 states as much, describing the whole scenario of the game as a trap, where the problem is that every ending can be seen as a victory as well as a failure. So, we have some strong sources but still: Let us look at the endings again and see, if my thesis holds up, that it is the ideology of the factions and the remaining of one in each ending that amplifies the problem the town will face after the catastrophe.

We’ll start with the Utopians, yet again. I think they make the most immediate impression and are easiest to describe. Because, you know… destroying a town and killing the sick is really fucking bad. (Though I feel sometimes it’s forgotten that the healthy get “vaccinated” (immunised for some hours) and evacuated before. It’s not about eradicating all townsfolk. And if I would be a true hypocrite I could be like “Do you find any infected districts and sick people on day 12 that you can’t heal, huh?” But that would be… quite ridiculous and I’m sure the sacrifice of the sick is very much intended here. Let’s just assume that it does kill the sick.) It seems hardly worth it and it very much represents the harshness of the Utopians. So, let’s see how it applies to the ideology. The ending for the most part sacrifices life and comfort for humanities progress. This is what the protection of the Polyhedron is about. The Utopians are not protecting it because they find it kind of pretty and it also is not a preservation of something culturally cool (which would be more the Termite way of thinking) because the usage of it is supposed to vary after the end of the story. (The children are leaving the tower so that the soul of Simon can be housed in the building.) But it is supposed to make the impossible possible and ensure humanities triumph over nature, break boundaries and create new impossible ideas. The visions of the new town Peter describes, tell us as much. It is not only about a building but about a new order, where the impossible is created and where the amount of energy is a crucial aspect of the vision. So, if we weight the different solutions against each other from out outside player perspective, we can see how tied the concept of the solution is to the Utopian idea. We already have a very steep sacrifice for the Utopian ideology here. The other aspect of the Utopian ending establishes this “creation through destruction” mantra that the Utopian ideology can impose in a different light: The Utopian end focuses on eradicating the plague. Which is… actually a good thing for once but still tied to the themes of the Utopians and making their involvement in it stronger. If we look at the Utopian end from a cold analytical perspective, it is literally destroying the playing board creating a tabula rasa, to start this whole town project again. (Or at least that is what our mistress Maria alludes to and who is in charge after the whole ending?…) Which is a very radical use of what the Utopians are about, carry out your vision rash, immediate and drastic and if it doesn’t work, then leave it behind and try again (the stairways to heaven tell a similar story). Which ultimately leads to a sacrifice that is way too big because the losses aren’t supposed to be considered at all.

So what about the counter thesis? If the Utopian ending is so bad, then the termite ending must be the solution. Well… it solves some problems. Mostly people not dying. Which definitely is a really  good thing! But it also comes with its own drawbacks. Namely the destruction of the Polyhedron first and foremost. Which you know… doesn’t seem like that important… It's just some building. Until we reapply the meaning of eradicating the chance to work for the impossible – which the Utopian ideology enables – and a strive to triumph over nature and improve humanity as a whole. Then it suddenly becomes a huge deal. Destroying the Polyhedron is not only about destroying some cool architecture project of some very bored capital graduates (even though this is sure a thing we are doing) but about preventing humanity's progress. We are saving life but we are also preventing the chance to develop a system where humanity can grow, develop new amazing and helpful things and might even reject their mortality as a whole. And even if the last part sounds kind of insane, please consider, that Pathologic is still very much set in a world where magic and miracles exist. We rely on the magic the earth provides in both other routes, see the prophecies of the mistresses and the theatre, visit a talking rat prophet and we can see the magic of the Polyhedron when we visit it as the Bachelor on day nine and of course in the secret ending. Acting like the ambitions as well as the magic of the Utopians is completely unreachable and should be outright rejected, undermines the cost the Termite ending takes to ensure their own victory. So I would argue that there is at least the possibility of the development of humankind and progress into new developments that can help people in general that get destroyed to ensure the lives of the sick as well as the old rules of the town. And that is definitely a costly exchange! This also brings me to an argument that I hear a lot and also want to deny here: “But if the town exists, more towers and miracles can be build again so its not really that great of a loss.” And while this can hold true for the very similar Diurnal ending (if we are really nice and not deny every form of magic, which is kind of the point of that ending… but I digress), the ending in favour of the Termites negates this. Firstly, it explicitly invents a “town of men” where this strive for destroying nature should be prevented. Secondly… the whole underground fluid thing still isn’t really fixed… because that is what gets saved by the Haruspex this is his goal. Which allows for the Panacea but also means that the plague and the traditions that cause the infection aren’t actually off the table. If we would create another Polyhedron the plague would appear again. The old ways of the town are hardly questioned, and they actually cannot be – at least in a way that implies substantial progress over nature – because the laws that get re-establishes actively prevent exactly this. The thread of the plague isn’t gone completely – even if certainly postponed because of the Polyhedrons removal. And that resources run out and the knowledge gets obscured is shown how littler there even is knows about Isidor's earlier experiments. So, we are either creating a word, where humanities progress is distinctly stopped or we create a situation in which the same mistakes that will cause the plague aren’t prevented at all and humanities mistake will repeat themselves. We created a situation, where movement is not possible and actually actively prevented.

The third one – the Humble ending – establishes a balance where both structures can be preserved but movement is still possible. Which first sounds like all is good and the life of only a handful of people could be worth the cost, if we outweigh them against the systematic costs the other endings provide… right? Well… apart from peoples life’s never being a “cost”… this only can hold true if we cannot find a societal problem with this. And we can. Again, with all endings we can see the broad ideologies coming into play and so the very problem of the endings are, that they follow the factions rules so exclusively and absolute. The Utopian end sacrificing life and comfort for progress and vision, the Termite end sacrificing progress and vision for comfort and life and the humble end… what does the Humble Ending do? Well the Humble end saves the precarious balance between the Town and the Polyhedron but at the cost of personal sacrifice. While all aspects of the town may exist the same is true for the plague that gets neither destroyed nor subdued but instead is still active and handled by constantly applying a cure. A cure made out of the humans blood of those who sacrifice themselves for sustaining this very system. Which does mean we will need constant human sacrifice to sustain this system at all. And since a town and a societal system should last for quite some time and there is no other solution in sight to deal with the plague without firing a shot after all… we are facing a plethora of problems.  Firstly: If we assume that for some reason the Changeling – or at least her miracles – are now as immortal as Simon was and she will not suddenly disappear leaving us with no one to even make the cure that we need, then what happens if the sinners we have chosen at the end of the game run out? And if we assume that the town will not like disappear after some years – which shouldn’t be the goal at all! – that will happen eventually. Who gets chosen and for what reason? I remind you again, that this is not a personal thing that people can do if they want, there is a societal need for people to die, it is integrated into the very system of the town. So how do we decide that? Are we just sentencing people to “cleanse themselves by human sacrifice” and just choose the worst criminals? That can be faulty and – again – the death penalty is something that we shouldn’t apply to society! Do we accept a willing sacrifices? Great, now that sounds like important and innocent life being taken for all the wrong reasons and can also hit someone who suffers from suicidal depression! Do we hope that our dear mistress continues her burden and selects who should die next.? That sounds like a horrible fate for Clara and also like a very unjust system. But sentencing someone to death because of a systematic need sounds incredibly unjust in the first place! Plus… you know with a highly contagious and deadly plague sometimes roaming the town, a cure doesn’t mean that nobody will die because of the plague. There still is a high lethality, personal reasons to obscure things and just a frightening time limit. Not to mention that the sandplague hurts before it kills so the pain aspect and the fear of the disease is still lingering. It sure is better then everyone contracting it and dying and the cure is a solution but… not exactly to every aspect of the disease, especially when we do not have the means to subdue it, that we have in the other two endings.

I hope that I was able to show that the endings might solve the catastrophe at hand, but all of them with a cost so huge that the specific solution can become debatable. Defeating the plague for good while saving the possibility to proceed further is really amazing, but destroying the entire old structure and killing the sick is a horrible tradeoff. Subduing the disease is definitely good, but at the cost of destroying the potential to enhance future life or even save more people in the long run and with integrating the enablement of repeating the same old mistakes doesn’t sound like a complete solution and more like turning the wheel and waiting for it to reappear at the same side (or you know… stopping it from turning all together). Preserving the town as well as its wonders is absolutely miraculous but allowing the plague to partake in this new system and requiring human sacrifice as a societal solution is a pretty dystopian thought. Again, the Artbook of classic Pathologic describes the whole scenario and its solutions as a trap. And it is! Because there is no right answer, we have to choose what we apply as a necessary evil and this is all we can do. There is no good ending we can find.

 Conclusion: The meaning of “Utopia”

So where does that leave us? And what does that have to do with the factions? Remember the quote I used at the beginning of my argument? “The first thing a principle does is killing somebody.” And we can see the effect of this with every of the factions. The rashness and costly sacrifice of the Utopian ideals is seen by the way the Kains’ act and the loss of live the Utopian solution provides. The Termites disregard of progress and the oppression that is its result can see in the way the Olgymskiys’ handle its people as well as the sacrifice of the Termite ending. The Humbles enforcement of punishment and their harsh self-reflection influences the Saburovs’ judgement and leads to their solution at the cost of constant human sacrifice in the end.

So… does this mean that there is no hope? Should we assume that all of these solutions and ideas suck and leave this whole essay this depressed? That would be a shame and also missing the mark of what Pathologic is about. It is a tragedy, that much is true, but it is definitely not without hope and humanity. Because all the examples I use have one thing in common: They are examples of the radicalization of each faction and in its sole survival against the other factions. A principle on its own might kill. But that is why there shouldn’t be only one principle. Clara is right when she reminds the other two healers that killing one part of the town of is still killing. That there is a balance that must be uphold and we can see this balance in other characters. We can see Notkin’s idealism that is still rooted in earthly matters and a deep care for his people. We can see Eva’s kindness being born of idealism combined with her will to give herself away to other people (although this also gets taken too far in the end). And there is beauty in all three ideas. Fighting against impossible odds, caring for what is right and should be maintained, watching ourselves to help your surroundings… all of this is good! And all of these things hold solutions for the other factions. When striving for progress we need to watch our own wellbeing and the negative consequences of our actions. When preserving what is old, we have to see what should be changed, where chances for progress are and we also need to look at ourselves and not only the concept we want to preserve. Looking at our own sins and self-reflection is important, but so is our own comfort and our own goals, even if they might seem outlandish at first. By applying the different ideologies on top the one we hold dear, we can balance them out.

The best ways the ideology work – the real utopia – is a balance of all three ideologies together. That means that the best state of the town is what we witness in the beginning of the game (even if I would never call that perfect either! The exportation of the kin shows as much!) But debating and changing through the reflection of all three ideologies is in my opinion how society can be driven to it’s best. Progression is useless without looking out for each other and keeping what works and helps. Preservation leads to oppression and stagnation if self-expression is forbidden. Responsibility and duty are needed but can lead to condemnation and self-destruction if it isn’t balanced out. But comfort while allowing progress. Duty while allowing self-expression. That is what can only be archived through active dialogue. This is, why this game is a trap. This is why every ending falls apart: Because we have to choose. Every end is a victory, but it also is a failure. Something has to be destroyed. And even a miracle can only work on the back of its people. But this choice is the exact reason why. Being only allowed to follow one of the factions by radicalizing all three of them at the end of the game we are not allowed to make a decision that could benefit everyone. And this is – at the end of it all – the tragedy of Pathologic.

#Pathologic #Pathologic factions #Spoiler warning #ending discussion #I sure hope you enjoy this essay!

[caw4brandon]

Dorohedoro: The Absurdity of Horror

Hey! Today, I would like to make an exception to talk about something. 2020 is not looking so good now because Covid-19 and oh yeah, the world is on fire! But in this chaos, I managed to find the perfect show to cope with the chaos. Another show about chaos! Let's do this!

What the hell is Dorohedoro?

In simple terms, Dorohedoro is a post-apocalyptic world that is divided between the toxic but living wasteland that is The Hole and The wonderful world of the rich and powerful Sorcerers. The story centers around a memory wiped lizard-headed man named, Caiman and his female friend, Nikaido. Caiman seeks to find the Sorcerer who cursed him while also indirectly attracting the attention of the powerful and ruthless, The En Family.

Throughout the series, Caiman and Nikaido's adventures reveal more layers about the world of The Hole and the world of the Sorcerers. We also get to follow the side characters/enemies and learn things from their perspective.

From the vile and rich En Family to some of the side characters in The Hole. Like the doctor that hired Caiman to help with the Lovecraftian mutant victims and the doctor that doesn’t age.

Let me just say that first and foremost. They are just ruthless but most of them have personalities and hearts. One example is Shin and Noi. (the characters in the picture) While they are the violent and dangerous cleaners for En, they can also be very funny with the interactions they had together and with other characters. Shin was once a poor boy with magical abilities in a place where they are hated and feared. Noi is a jaded, loyal but silly cousin of En who despite having great talent, puts her loyalty to her partner and friends first.

En himself is a rather tragic but also an understandable villain who you hope finds solace by just...asking nicely and learning to take no as an answer. While on the subject of the En family, can we also talk about how crazy the masks are?! They are so outlandish, it kinda builds color into the cast.

Welcome To Chaos...and Gyoza.

But, you may be asking. What are their powers? how does it work? Well, in this world of Sorcerers. Each person can produce "smoke", which has various effects. Some Sorcerers have incredibly weak powers while others are stronger and more uniquely rare. This is where Nikaido comes in! Despite her rejecting her Sorcerer nature, her abilities are the most unique of them all and En wants it.

This story is layered with various absurd plots that somehow, weaves together. While originally it was a Sorcerer head-hunting mission to find the person who cursed Caiman, eventually became a story layered with various complexities of not only Caiman's identity, but also about the En family, the organization that opposed En and Nikadio's past.

I personally like the characters and the around the bush methods and problems they go through to get to the end goal. The characters are lovable and the villains are more rounded than a typical "I'm bad just because" trope. It's a messy but more fun story that even though the main plot is not happening, you can still enjoy it because of the characters.

Also, the openings and endings are Fucking amazing!

- B -

#dorohedoro #caiman #nikaido #shin #noi #thehole

[flipomatic]

Internship Chapter 29: Day 24 - Emira

First Chapter Previous Chapter

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When Emira entered the Illusion Coven, she could immediately tell that something was different than usual.

The secretary stopped her as she passed his desk on the way in. “The coven leader wishes to see you in his office, first thing.” That was concerning, but Emira didn’t have any choice but to comply.

“Is Jen already with him?” Emira asked, not sure if she should stop in her office first.

The secretary shook his head. “He only asked for you.”

That was even more ominous. Emira had just gone to see him a couple days before with Jen, so it didn’t make sense that he’d want to talk with her by herself. She wasn’t about to question the request though, especially not to the witch who was only delivering the message.

“Alright, I’ll go see him.” Emira continued walking past, heading into the employee section of the building. She passed Jen’s office, which had the door closed, and stopped at the coven leader’s door.

With one knock, he called for her to enter.

Nothing had changed inside from before, except for Emira being summoned there alone. The coven leader’s eerie grin felt all the creepier when directed only at her.

“Please, take a seat.” He said, gesturing at one of the chairs in front of his desk.

Emira did as instructed, trying not to let any nerves show on her face.

The coven leader took a moment to gather his thoughts, glancing over Emira’s shoulder and then back at her face, before continuing. “I’ve heard great things about your accomplishments while you’ve been interning here. You’ve impressed Jennifer and have even received your very first job request.” The words were complements, but the way he spoke still didn’t make it feel sincere. Especially after learning how he got the position. “I have an offer for you. We don’t do this often, but I would like to invite you to join the coven early.”

What? He wanted Emira to join? She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What about school?” Emira asked, trying to gather her thoughts. She’d heard of students leaving Hexside early to join covens, but it almost never happened.

“You would graduate early and start full time with the coven.” The coven leader brought his hands together, holding them on the table.

Emira honestly didn’t know what to make of this offer. She knew that a few weeks ago, if it had been offered to her, she would’ve rejected it in a heartbeat. She had been dead set on joining the Emperor’s Coven. Now though, she wasn’t sure. After all this time she was starting to see how she could fit in here, how she could have a place. It was flattering to be offered a spot.

The fact that Emira wanted to consider the offer surprised her. She was interested in joining the Illusion Coven.

That didn’t mean she was going to accept it right now, of course. She still wanted to complete her final year at Hexside, especially after seeing just how much farther she could push her illusion magic. Plus, Ed would murder her if she made him go to school alone for a whole year.

There was also the fact that she didn’t fully trust the coven leader. Knowing him, he almost certainly had ulterior motives for making this offer. The chess game she discussed with Jen was still on her mind; she could almost see the board reflected in his eyes, the hand moving to lift a pawn one space up the board.

Perhaps in a year, once she was finished with school, she would think about coming back. She’d return on her own terms, not by anyone else’s decision.

It was time to respond; the silence had already stretched too long. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to decline.” Emira spoke clearly, decisively. “After I graduate, I’ll consider it.” No promise or guarantee, but maybe she’d come back here.

If he felt anything at her response, the coven leader hid it well. His smile didn’t budge, not a single inch. “It’s been a pleasure having you intern here, and I hope you do.” He stood from his chair, gesturing one hand towards the door. “Jen is waiting for you, thank you for meeting with me.”

Emira nodded, standing as well to leave. She exited the office, mind still reeling from the offer. As she walked down the hallway, Emira wondered if she should’ve taken more time to think about it. No, she shook her head, she made the right choice.

When she reached Jen’s office, Emira went inside. Jen was sitting at her desk, eyes trained on the door. She perked up when Emira entered; it seemed like she knew what was going on.

“Did you accept?” Jen asked, brown eyes gleaming with excitement. Her smile shrank when Emira shook her head. “I understand. Either way, let’s have a great last few days.”

“Where are we headed today?” Emira didn’t want to dwell on her rejection of the coven, especially since Jen looked disappointed at the result.

“They’re shooting a movie nearby, need some illusions to spice things up.” Jen stood, grabbing her palisman staff as she did. “The two of us are perfect for the job!”

“Sounds good.” Emira was intrigued; she’d never been part of a movie before. She hoped the needed magic would play to her strengths, so she could try to take the lead again.

The two left the coven soon after, flying on the palisman staff to the job. After about ten minutes in the air, Emira could see their destination.

The movie was being filmed on top of a large building, with a large number of witches involved. They had large cameras, all centered around one spot. A witch with a clipboard was pointing insistently, sending other witches scurrying into action.

Jen landed the palisman staff near the edge of the roof, away from the cameras as not to disturb the filming. They then weaved through the mess of cables to get to the witch with the clipboard, who was likely the director.

“We’re here from the Illusion Coven.” Jen said, before introducing them.

The director was a gruff witch, with his mouth set in what looked to be a permanent frown. “Good, you’ll be on soon. Sandra!” He called over another witch, a young woman who looked to be in her twenties. “Explain the illusions to them.”

“Yes sir.” She nodded a few times quickly, and then gestured for Jen and Emira to follow her away from the director. “We’re shooting a big action scene today. The director wants an explosion with a visible shockwave. It’ll be timed with a stunt, over where the tower is.” The witch pointed towards a small tower on the side of the roof where they were shooting. She continued talking about the specifics of the stunt and the size of the needed explosion.

“We can definitely do that.” Jen replied with her usual certainty.

“Great. The director will want to see a sample of the effect soon, I’ll let you know when.” The witch said, before returning to helping with filming.

Emira watched her go, before turning to Jen. “Should we divide and conquer?” Emira asked, already knowing how Jen operated.

“Exactly.” Jen nodded. “We’ll split it up, fireball and shockwave. Which do you want?”

She was offering Emira the choice? Emira couldn’t help but smile as she replied. “The fireball, I feel more comfortable with layering it.”

“I’ll get the shockwave then.” Jen glanced over at the filming set, then the opposite end of the roof. “Let’s go practice until they need us.”

Emira thought that was a good idea, especially since she needed to decide how to build her explosion spell. It was going to be on top of a tower, so that was important to consider. What kind of explosion would that make?

She thought about it as they walked farther from the filming site, so that they could practice in peace. Emira settled on layering in a blooming effect, to make it look like the explosion expanded outward. The layers were ones she could handle casting together, so it would work.

When Emira tried to cast the spell, albeit in a small version, she was successful. It made a small blooming fireball. Then she worked with Jen to time the second part, which was the shockwave. Jen commented on Emira’s choice of spells, suggesting a small tweak to them. Emira made the change; as usual Jen knew exactly what she was talking about.

Within twenty minutes they had built a very impressive chain of spells. The timing was good, and it would hopefully impress the director.

They walked back over near the filming site to watch until it was time. The actors were arguing about something, waving their arms in broad motions. They kept doing the same scene over and over again, starting back at the beginning each time.

Once they finished with that scene, the director called for Emira and Jen to get ready. He asked to see a small sample of the explosion, which they showed off to him easily. He still looked irritated after, but he said it would do.

They then got into position, just out of camera shot near where the illusion explosion would be. While the explosion was happening, the actors would be diving off the roof and onto a net.  Emira knew they would probably have to do it many times over, but she was okay with that.

Being here, doing complex magic and performing, were the things she was starting to enjoy about the Illusion Coven. They were why she couldn’t outright reject the offer that morning.

They filled her with joy as she cast the large spell, watching the result of her hard work blooming over the tower.

As expected, she had to do it again. And then again, many times over the next few hours. By the end, it had almost completely drained her magic, casting this many spells over a long period of time. Jen, of course, was completely unphased. She hit the timing for the shockwave every time, making one vibrant enough to show up well on film.

Later, on their way back to the coven, Emira would ask her what spells she was using. After all, if she wanted to become a master of illusions, she would need to learn some new tricks.

Jen could certainly teach her a few more of those in the few days they had left.

Next Chapter

#the owl house #the owl house fanfiction #emira blight #this is the last chapter of her arc #she has one more but it's part of ed's story

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Someone like you-Chapter 34

On AO3

Ch-28  Ch-29  Ch-30  Ch-31  Ch-32  Ch-33

Chapter 34

The chilly air was invigorating as we made our way to the bridal shop. I prayed that Jenny would not want further details about sex between Jamie and me because he was her brother and that was just weird.

The owner asked us to sit and chat for a few minutes while her assistants were pulling the dresses she wanted to show us. She asked me tons of questions about Jamie, what we both did for a living, and for fun. I didn’t think the questions were intended for anything because they seemed so random. When the assistants came in with dresses she sent half of them back pulled three to the dressing room and the rest on racks nearby.

“Alright," she looked at me smiling. "You can look all you want but I believe the three I’ve chosen will be your favorites. Call when you need assistance.”

“Out of the thousand or so dresses in this place how could she know yer three favorites?”

I shrugged my shoulders at Jenny’s whispered question. I believed it was a sales technique of some sort. My taste was off the beaten path, always had been, no way she could target my style. I looked at the vast number of dresses that hung near the huge dressing room and thought I better get started.

I looked at the three bridal gowns and my first thought was the absurdity that I would choose one of these and actually marry the man who stole my heart when I was ten years old. I felt tears pricking my eyes and resisted the urge to pinch myself. The gowns were stunning and I was very careful touching them. I pulled my clothes off and tried to find a zipper or buttons to put the first one on. After five minutes I was getting cold so I called Jenny to come in.

“Christ Claire, put my jacket on before ye freeze to death. I think I got it, no that’s not it. Edith, we need ye help with this.”

It was the owner who came in, still smiling, and offered to help. “Arms up lass.”

The fabric of the dress slid down my body and legs feeling like a cool slippery second skin. I have a theory about the perfect dress and it has proven right every time. When the dress feels like it was made for you, sums up your personality and goals you have for the event you buy it. This was the dress I would be married in, I knew it as it slipped onto my body, and I was delighted with it.

“Lass, I dinna ken what to say. It’s breathtakin, you’re beautiful in it, Jamie will have a heart attack when he sees ye in it.”

Heavy lace sleeves from my wrist to five inches below my shoulder attached to the heart-shaped bodice that was close fitted and decorated with thousands of hand-sewn pearls. The skirt was two layers with a modest flair. The owner went to get a stiff slip and the fabric fell onto it like a whisper. Jenny had a strange look on her face and pulled my arm so I would turn around to look in the mirror. I have never felt so elegant or had such a beautiful dress in my life. The tears would not be held back and I looked at the owner like she was magic.

“How could you possibly know?”

“It’s my job to see the person inside, and I’ve been dressing brides for thirty years.”

The owner explained the heavy lace sleeves would add some warmth for my winter wedding. I turned around to see the sharp dip to my waist, exposing my back. Keep me warm indeed, I thought. Next, we lost ourselves in gorgeous silk stockings, garter belts, tiny panties, and stunning shoes. I chose the highest heel she had because I wanted to look in Jamie’s eyes whenever I turned in his direction.

I watched Edith and Jenny with a keen eye and noticed what they drooled over. I let the owner know I would pick up those items tomorrow as Christmas presents and to please set them aside for me. I could not help seeing Edith’s eyes land on a beautiful beaded clutch. She did not touch it but her gaze landed on it several times. I indicated to the shop owner I would take that as well.

After three hours we piled out of the shop completely exhausted. Jenny went her separate way to do Christmas shopping and I drove Edith home. The sky was hosting large swollen black clouds and I saw the lights on Edith’s house from a block away. It made me happy inside that I had a friend like Edith who taught me how to cook, got me to therapy, loved my dog and my husband to be, and embraced my whole family. I helped her inside and hugged her.

“I love you, Edith, thank you for spending such an amazing day with me.”

“We will see you on Christmas dear and I will bring some things.”

I laughed at that. Some things meant an entire meal that would be remembered throughout the year. I turned my pockets inside out to show the Butter-lovers he was not sequestered against his will and they lost all interest in me walking to his bed with their tiny hearts broken.

“Maybe it’s time to have Butter for a play day,” she said looking at her depressed pugs.

A last hug and I was homeward bound with a deep sigh of relief. I was getting married on Hogmanay and it would be a day to remember. I needed my groom in a big way.

When I turned onto the road to Lallybroch I saw a man and a dog in a far-field. The dog was running to him after retrieving a stick when he suddenly dropped it in the snow and looked at the man. It was Butter, my favorite dog who never found the value in an old stick. I looked beyond the confused K-9 and saw Jamie waving his arms at me. I parked and walked across the field, first to be assaulted by Butter, and then Jamie. His blue eyes sparkled against the snow-covered field and his smile was brilliant.

We walked home to a warm fire and a few hours to binge Netflix before dinner. Since we were alone in the house we stretched out on the couch and spent a relaxing minute and a half and then gave in to the naughty arousal of making love in the living room where we could be caught by Jenny or Ian returning home. I decided risky sex was delicious and put a star next to it on my types of sex mental list. No sooner did we dress than I heard the kitchen door slam and Jenny’s voice say something about dinner. I smiled at Jamie and he acknowledged the close call as he pulled me on his lap and tickled me.

“Oh Christ, ye two are making me sick. I am goin to lay down before dinner, I’m sure ye can get by an hour without me.”

Jamie sat at the kitchen table working on the renovation drawings while I got a pork roast ready for the oven. I made rice pilaf and a broccoli casserole and looked over Jamie’s shoulder asking questions. I was so excited about this renovation. We would have the entire upstairs, including the huge bathroom and tub, a room for the nursery that could later be divided for a second child and Jenny’s old room to create whatever we wanted. It was a glorious amount of space and freedom to raise our family. Jenny and Ian would enjoy the same luxury a level below us.

“Why didn’t we think of this before! I am so happy and excited and you are brilliant, can’t wait and I love you and…”

I had dropped into Jamie’s lap halfway through my happiness tirade and he seized the only way I had to communicate my joy. He moaned against my mouth and pulled me closer to him.

“I decided on a pork roast because I learned in nursing school that pork has special … rejuvenation …um …enzymes that target…” I inclined my head toward Jamie’s crotch. His eyes got wide and he looked down at his lap and then smiled like the devil himself.

“Sassenach, you are such a delight and yer learning such important things. I am a lucky man.” His smile was so big he could hardly kiss me.

Crap. It was supposed to be a joke but he didn’t laugh. Hm, I vowed to tell him someday so it wasn’t really lying and now I had pork in my bag of seduction tricks. Sorry, Jamie but you are just too adorable right now and I sense another hour of percolation and you will cripple me tonight. Oh, Christ, we may cripple each other. I turned the oven temperature up fifty degrees.

Dinner was perfect thanks to Edith’s secrets. I thought about tuition for the private Culinary Institute and how many students learned from her each semester. It was a staggering amount of money because they recruited the best chefs to teach. That made me giggle because I have her all to myself every Saturday. Jamie leaned into my ear as I popped a piece of pork in my mouth. I blushed at his whispered suggestion and smiled despite myself.

Jenny pointed her fork at me, then Jamie, “I’m gonna kill one of ya in yer sleep and I love ya both the same so it’ll be a coin toss. I canna get any peace wonderin what’s goin on in there so it’s been nice knowin one of ye.”

“Jenny, my back is sore from all the standing today. Do you mind if I use your tub tonight?”

“Yer a terrible liar and ye know yer welcome to all that I have if ye do my share of dishes tonight. I don’t feel that great.”

Jamie was doing his magic table-clearing act where all the dishes suddenly vanish from the table and appear in the sink, stacked for quick washing. Ian jumped to aid Jenny so it was just me and the adorable one. He kissed my neck as I powered through the washing.

“Sassenach, I must advise ye of the danger yer in. It feels like fifty horses are draggin me to bent ye over right where ye stand. Have mercy and show ye love by gettin in the tub if ye must. I’ll no wait much longer.”

He pulled my hand to his crotch and I squeaked quite involuntarily. So, the Blue Whale is not extinct after all and I must upgrade the potential danger to crippled for life. I decided I didn’t need the use of my legs anyway. I tried to kiss him and struggled for his mouth as he spun me and gently pushed me out of the kitchen.

“If yer not in bed naked when I get upstairs I’ll have ye where I find ye mo chridhe. I ate entirely too much pork I think.”

I was stuck looking at him being so sexy and saw his eyes get dark saying time is up, here I come. I vanished from the kitchen and my hands shook as I dropped into the hot water. I lit the fire after stacking three logs that erupted in flame casting a romantic glow in the room. I never tired of how the fire threw dancing light on Jamie’s skin as he moved causing a thrill when parts of his body were revealed. I pulled the bedding down so it would not hinder our movement.

Jamie gave me a total girl gift when the weather got cold. A floor-length transparent robe made from exquisite soft fabric, huge sleeves, and yards of material that was belted. When I touched the fur that ran around the collar and down the front I recoiled believing it was real until Jamie showed me the tag that said simulated mink. It was my guilty pleasure and his ignition switch.

Jamie came in and looked at me like a starving man. Without a word, he disappeared to the shower and cut his impressive time by a full minute. He wrapped his naked body around me and my fingers raked through his wet hair.

“Would you like a glass of whisky love?”

“Nah, I want yer forgiveness. This will no end soon, mo gradhag, and I’ll be lucky to get a full minute of tenderness in before I take what I want from ye. Give me yer mouth Sassenach.”

My two orgasms were award winners but I stayed quiet by holding my hand tightly against my mouth. I’m not sure it worked because on the orgasm planet I visit I have no ears. Just vibrating nerve endings that sing a song of pulsing delight. When I leave and come back to earth my ears are always attached to my head again so I can hear Jamie growl and pant as he rides his wave of euphoria.

This amazing day had ripped the energy and strength from me. I was descending into the void so fast I grabbed Jamie’s arm as if to stop myself. His hand was splayed on my still flat stomach and he was asking me why there was no bump. I looked from his hand to his eyes and felt my heart explode. I told him quickly how much I loved him and tried a second time to form the actual words that still didn’t sound right. Jamie laughed and pulled me to him as he reached for the light.

I ascended into consciousness slowly seeing the light of day behind my closed eyelids. This was one of my favorite times of the day as I became aware of the world again. I yawned deeply and twisted to the other side running right into Jamie. My eyes flew open at this unexpected obstacle in my morning bed. He moved slightly but otherwise continued to sleep. I wanted to jump up and down and clap my hands at this rare surprise to enjoy a Sunday morning lounging with my favorite person. I snuggled into him and went back to whatever plane I woke from.

Sometime later, I took a deep breath and let his scent fill my nose and lungs, feeling it energize me. He kissed my face over and over again until I was fully conscious.

“Ye have the prettiest eyes God ever gave a lass. Tell me what great things ye did in heaven to win them mo chridhe.”

I pushed myself up knowing my hair was acting out a riot and smiled at him. “Jamie?”

“lass?”

“You need to tell me something important, to get it off your chest, so to speak.”

Jamie said nothing but stared at my eyes and shook his side to side.

I brought my face within an inch of his and looked in his eyes. “You have the eyes of someone who adop0ted a kitten on impulse, so tell me where it is so Butter doesn’t eat it accidentally.”

Jamie was blushing crimson and laughing. He finally stood up and went into the hall then pushed a large box into our room. I realized it was a sixty-inch smart tv and called out every ounce of inner strength not to jump on the bed and demand he set it up and turn it on. We were a bit frugal, all of us sharing a single television that his parents owned.

“I was gonna give it to ye for Christmas but that would be a mistake, I think.”

“I don’t know about that, I can get your present ready …I just have to catch it and hold it still while I wrap it.”

“Yer givin me one of yer chickens for Christmas Sassenach?”

“No fair guessing, you have to wait and be surprised.”

“Lucky for the chicken, I dinna give ye the tv for Christmas.” He looked at me and the energy changed abruptly as stared back at him.

“I got ye, us, a honeymoon to remember, love.” He pulled an envelope from the top of the TV box and handed it to me.”

I turned it upside down and let the contents land on the bed as my eyes saw brochure pictures that made my heart pound. “We’re going to the Bahamas!”

I jumped on Jamie screaming with delight. He didn’t grab me fast enough so I escaped to jump on the bed, butt naked, still screaming with delight. “Tell me more!”

When he was silent I looked down at him watching my breasts bounce with my efforts. I dropped to the bed and pulled him on top of me. I felt him hard and large through his sweat pants and pushed them down over his magnificent butt. I was naked and squirming under him as I kissed him hard.

“It’s gentleman’s choice until noon and I am a slave to your pleasure Jamie.” I opened my mouth suggestively. Jamie whispered his instructions for an erotic experience that charged my batteries and made them explode. He told me where to put my tongue, how to slide it around his sensitive head, how to lay my tongue flat against him and let him pump my mouth. He stopped to say something and I saw his eyes lose focus. I shoved him in my mouth, to my throat and heard him groan loudly for what seemed like a full minute. While I was still swallowing I heard skin slapped.

“Fuckin Jamie!” Ian sounded like he would barge in our room and choke him to death.

As we struggled to stop laughing I remembered Jenny`s wicked sense of fair play, payback, and revenge. She was a master at tit-for-tat. I wondered what she will expose me to when I`m nine months pregnant. I scowled at Jamie and suggested he stop laughing.

#outlander fanfiction outlander fanfic jamie and claire

[angellesword]

Contrast

Summary: Yoongi doesn’t know how to finish writing his song.

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Idol!Hoseok

Genre: Fluff, minor angst

Word Count: 2.8k (One-shot)

Warnings: discussion of insecurities

Yoongi glared at the intersecting lines in his strikingly white paper. The heavy red inked pen he used to draw those lines was enough to make his head hurt.

Sigh.

He just crossed out an entire stanza of the lyrics he wrote for three hours.

Three. Fucking. Hours.

The lyrics just didn’t fit on the beat of the song he produced. What the hell was wrong with him? He was usually satisfied with his works. In most cases, he could actually finish producing and writing a song in a short period of time.

So why couldn’t he do it now?

Was it the wine?  Yoongi absentmindedly ran his finger through his lower lip while thinking.

Was he too dependent on that bittersweet liquor so now that he stopped drinking it, he felt as though he couldn’t function well?

Was that it?

Or was it his pride?

Namjoon offered to help, but Yoongi just brushed him off. He knew Joon had a lot on his plate right now. With his upcoming mixtape, dance practices, meaningful speeches for their love yourself and speak yourself campaign, Yoongi didn’t want to become one their leader's responsibilities.

But the main reason was probably his pride. Namjoon could balance both his personal and work life. So why couldn’t Yoongi?

"Hyung?"

Yoongi felt a hand resting on his shoulder. For some reason, his body began to relax. He was wearing an extra layer of clothes, but he could still feel the comfort and warmth in this person's hand.

He looked back only to see the uneasiness in Hoseok's eyes, his hand was still on Yoongi's shoulder.

"Hobi...you're here...." Yoongi said. His voice was betraying him, though. It's like his system was still processing the fact that Hoseok was really here.

Inside his studio.

And it was just the two of them.

"Yeah. I knocked exactly twenty times." Hoseok replied meticulously, worry was still visible in his eyes.

Yoongi had this rule for the rest of the Bangtan members. They should knock twenty times before entering his studio. But the members, especially the maknae line, didn’t seem to understand the concept of knocking. The boys just barged into his studio whenever they wanted.

"You didn't answer, so I just pressed the magic numbers and went in." Hoseok shrugged his shoulders.

Since the Bangtan boys kept on invading Yoongi's studio, he decided to exercise the use of password lock, but Yoongi was bad when it came to remembering some stuff. There was this one night when he slept outside of his studio because he forgot his passcode.

So when he finally remembered, he immediately told Hoseok about it. He was the only person Yoongi could trust who wouldn’t invade his privacy.

"I brought some food, hyung..." Hoseok smiled brightly as he raised his other hand to show the paper bag containing take-out food.

"Hmm...thanks." Yoongi smiled a little. It's past midnight and he still hadn’t eaten dinner. He barely left his studio.

"Jimin asked me to have dinner with him, but I figured you're the one who needs someone to eat with so..." Hoseok finally removed his hand on Yoongi's shoulder, he then walked straight to the table.

"It's Chinese food. I hope you like it,” Hoseok turned to face Yoongi who was still seated on his swivel chair.

"I eat anything..." Yoongi kept on playing with his lower lip while looking at Hoseok intently. He was watching his every move carefully.

"Good! I brought a lot!" Hoseok smiled. It's the kind of smile that showed his little dimples. The one Yoongi liked the most.

"So...you're going to...eat with me...?" Yoongi asked even though he already knew the answer. Hoseok literally told him a few breaths ago.

"Yes. I just went out with Jimin so I can buy our food. And..." Hoseok stopped speaking momentarily to open the sachet of sauce using his mouth. "I didn't want Jimin to eat alone, so I waited for him to finish."

"I see..." Yoongi nodded.

Hoseok was really that type of person. He always made sure everyone was happy—that everyone was safe. He was always so full of love, especially when it came to his family, friends, and ARMYs, their fans.

Sometimes Hoseok's personality was too much for Yoongi. The former knew how to break almost everyone's wall. He knew exactly what to do or say to a person. He could make anyone feel so special—like you're the only person who matterred. He made everyone feel as though even their pettiest reason should never be ignored.

It scared Yoongi.

Because what if....

What if...he got the wrong idea? What if he thought that he was special, but then Hoseok did this 'special' thing to everyone?

Yoongi was not the smartest person, though he knew that vulnerability and oblivion were the greatest downfall of a human being.

Oblivion. Growing up, Yoongi didn't experience the warmth and kindness of this world. In fact, fate was a little cruel to him. He learned things the hard way. He grew up thinking that everything was not for free.

You wanted food? Okay. Suffer by walking from school to your home in exchange of using your transportation fee to buy a cheap cup of instant noodles instead.

You wanted money? Then let me buy your hard produced music beat for a few bucks.

You wanted to be famous? Spend your life as a teenager full of worries and questions. Will I even debut? How many more songs should I write and produce just to be rejected again?

Isn't leaving Daegu and going to a strange and cruel town enough? What more do I need to do?

You see, these things were some of the reasons why Yoongi could not accept the love and care Hoseok gave for free. Yoongi’s oblivion about unconditional love turned him vulnerable.

He didn't know that someone was capable of doing such things because he grew up in the absence of it. The little affection shown by Hobi made Yoongi feel a lot of things...to the point that he couldn’t control and distinguish it.

Was it love? Or was he just thankful to Hoseok?

"Let's eat, hyung~" Hoseok called, but Yoongi didn't move.

Hoseok pouted and went straight to Yoongi's back. He pushed his hyung's swivel chair until it reached the corner of the table.

Yoongi groaned when his upper abdomen hit the table's corner.

"That's what you get for being lazy." Hoseok stuck his tongue out at him.

Yoongi just shook his head—trying to ignore the fact that his heartbeat just doubled because of Hoseok's silly expression.

Both of them ate in peace. Yoongi wasn’t talking much because he was still worried about his unfinished lyrics. Hoseok, on the other hand, was busy with his food. Yoongi didn't mind. Hoseok's presence was enough to ease the tension he was feeling.

"By the way, Hyung. How's the song you've been writing?"

Yoongi froze the second he heard the question. He remembered promising Hoseok that he would let the younger boy hear it today. It's actually a song that would be rapped by the two of them this upcoming Festa.

Bighit decided to divide the Bangtan Boys into subunits for this year's anniversary. Seokjin, the best vocalist, and Namjoon, the band’s leader, would release a music video. It would be under the production of Golden Closet Film.

Jimin, Taehyung, and Jeongguk were phenomenal dancers so they chose to choreograph dance steps.

Hoseok knew that their members were doing their best. This made him a little anxious and pressured. He wanted to show his best abilities to the ARMYs so kept on pestering Yoongi about their performance. But now that he could see how stressful it was for Yoongi to finish the song, he suddenly just wanted to do something else.

"I'll let you listen to it by tomorrow..." Yoongi stood up and started cleaning the table. Both of them were done eating.

Hoseok noticed the change in Yoongi's mood. Did he say something wrong? Was he too demanding?

Uneasiness washed all over Hoseok again. He studied Yoongi's face. His hyung's lips were protruded into a small but sulky pout. His eyebrows were furrowed too.

Hoseok cleared his throat. He didn't want to upset Yoongi.

"Listen, Hyung..." He started. "Uh, you don't really have to do this...I mean, it's going to be an unofficial song, so....you should not...uhm...." Hoseok tried to find the right thing to say but he couldn’t. So instead, he just helped clean the table.

Yoongi stopped him, though.

"I'll clean up here, Hope. Just do something else..."

Hoseok pouted and sighed in defeat. Yoongi must have been really upset.

Hoseok was dying of curiousity now so he went to his hyung's working table to know what had gotten him so unmotivated.

He raised his brow when he saw five crumpled papers on the table. There were also at least ten scattered white papers here. What really caught his attention was the paper with a big X mark on it.

Hoseok read the words on that paper. A small smile formed in his lips when he realized that Min Yoongi was genius.

This sounds so cliché

but believe me when I say

your smile completes my day

we're contrast, just like what they say

i'm monochrome and you're a rainbow

my dark picture has been colored by you, oh you.

Baby you're my muse. (and my only hope)

"Hyung, why did you remove this? It's brilliant!" Hoseok went near Yoongi just to shoved the paper on his face.

Yoongi immediately snatched the paper away from Hoseok. Damn. He should've thrown this stupid paper in the trash bin!

"I-It's stupid, Hope...." Yoongi avoided Hoseok's shinning eyes.

Did he notice that the song was for him?

"It's not! ARMYs will like it! I like it! No—I love it!" Hoseok grabbed Yoongi frail shoulders, causing him to groan. Yoongi's body felt weak. He had been sitting on his swivel chairs for hours.

"Hyung, you might think I'm only saying this out of guilt for not helping you..." Hoseok bit the inside of his cheek. Sure, he was really guilty but... "You know I don't lie. When I say it's beautiful, it is really beautiful..."

Beautiful. He said that word as if he wasn’t just pertaining to the lyrics but also to the person in front of him.

"So what if it's cheesy? I've always admired your talent for conveying feelings into meaningful words, Yoongi-hyung."

Yoongi blushed. Here we go again. Why did Hoseok always know the right thing to say? Or did he? Maybe those weren’t really the right words. It's just what Yoongi wanted to hear.

Maybe it's never about the right words but the right person.

And maybe it's the way Hoseok spoke or the way he looked at someone as if that person was the sole reason why the sun rises, and why the moon illuminates the heavy, dark night.

"Why are you doing this to me, Jung Hoseok?" Yoongi glared at Hobi. His eyes were slightly red because of unshed tears and frustration.

"W-What do you mean, Hyung?" Hoseok stammered.

Yoongi blinked and then he took a step backward when he noticed how Hoseok's eyes quivered in trepidation.

"I'll finish the song before the anniversary, Hope. Just trust me..."

Hoseok sighed in relief when Yoongi smiled. Nothing else mattered when he saw that gummy smile.

Hoseok’s phone suddenly vibrated.

"Oh! Hyung! Look! Our company just posted the concept photos for the Festa!" Hoseok enthusiastically visited their page to see the photos in his phone.

Hoseok couldn't be happier to see that his favorite photo of him was the album's cover. It took him and the rest of the members two days to finish the photo shoot.

It turned out really well.

But his happiness was short-lived because after several minutes, his photo's likes didn't increase at all.

25,010 likes. 3,056 comments. 743 shares.

He checked the photos of other members.

107,346 likes. 8,222 comments. 4023 shares.

Hoseok couldn't keep track on the numbers on his co-members' photos because it was increasing rapidly.

He was delighted since his members were well-loved and respected by the fans. However, he couldn’t deny the fact that he felt insecure.

It had always been like this. People liked the other members more than Hoseok. He was also often the target of mean and baseless comments on social media platforms. As much as he tried to ignore it, he couldn’t. Some words were too painful. He couldn’t stop thinking that perhaps, they were right.

"Hope..."

"Yeah?" Hoseok flinched when Yoongi touched his shaky hand.

"Are you okay?" Yoongi questioned with furrowed brow. Hoseok's face was really, really pale.

"Huh? Uh...yes. I'm just...." He trailed off. Hoseok didn’t want to lie but he also did not want Yoongi to think he was being petty.

But Yoongi wasn’t having any of his bullshit.

"I know that face so don't you dare lie to me." Yoongi’s voice was low and full of authority. "What's wrong?"

Hoseok swallowed. Hard. He didn't dare to speak.

"Hope, I am asking you..." Yoongi warned. He took a step forward while Hoseok took a step backward.

This annoyed Yoongi. He took another step forward but Hoseok repeated his annoying move. Though, this time, he hadn't done it successfully since his ankle hit the front leg of the swivel chair.

And because Yoongi wouldn’t stop invading Hoseok's personal space, Hobi just decided to take a seat on that swivel chair.

Hoping Yoongi would stop, Hoseok released another sigh of relief.

Yoongi had finally stopped walking towards his direction.

But it's not because he was done with Hoseok. It's just that Yoongi was now standing at most three feet away from Hoseok's swivel chair.

"I asked you what's wrong, Hope. You. Did. Not. Answer. Me." Yoongi said firmly. He even snatched the phone away from Hoseok's grip.

Yoongi's forehead creased because of confusion. What's with these pictures and why was it making Hoseok sad?

Yoongi scrolled down to see all the pictures, trying to understand what's wrong with it. Not a minute passed but Yoongi already knew what this was all about.

"We talked about this, didn't we?" The look on Yoongi's face screamed “I am disappointed.”

That's the problem with Yoongi. When he offered a solution to a problem, he instantly believed that it was the best and it should be followed.

Like when he told Hoseok to ignore the people who didn’t appreciate him, he thought Hoseok's insecurity would just magically go away. Because in Yoongi's case, it had always been like that. Whatever Hoseok did or said,Yoongi believed and followed it.

"You really think the damn numbers matter? Hope, you're..." Yoongi could not finish his sentence. What was the perfect word to describe Hoseok? Did that word even exist?

"This is the reason why I don't want to say anything to you, hyung. You won't understand." It took Hoseok everything not to let his voice crack.

Perhaps Hoseok's greatest downfall was fear. Fear of not being enough. Fear of not being able to show the role he himself wanted to portray. Fear. Fear of not attaining the security he wanted to reach.

It's not about the money. It's not about him getting tired from going extra mile for other people.

It was fear. Fear of not being loved. Fear of leaving this world and not being able to justify the importance of his existence.

Because, why did it have to be him? There were so many people who deserved to live. To be in his position. But why him? What's so special about him?

"It's not that I won't understand, Hope. I can't understand..."

But Hoseok didn't say anything again. He was just trying so hard to purse his lips together and God, Yoongi's patience was being tested.

"You're so fucking insecure. Do you know that?”Yoongi leaned forward so his face leveled Hoseok's.

Yoongi titled Hoseok's chin as he examined his face.

"We should do something about that..." Yoongi whispered. His eyes were still busy scrutinizing Hoseok's face.

"Y-Yoongi..." Hoseok's voice was soft.

Yoongi smirked. His stomach twisted when Hoseok dropped honorifics.

"Yes, Hope?" Yoongi bit his lower lip, trying to catch Hoseok's eyes.

"You go around making other people feel loved when you can't even..."

Hoseok's breathing hitched when he noticed that Yoongi's face was just a few inches away from his probably flushed face.

"Love yourself..." Hoseok closed his eyes when Yoongi left a light as a feather kiss on his lips.

It's just a peck but his body reacted differently.

He knew wanted more.

But Yoongi did not have a plan to repeat that move again.

Yoongi walked towards his working table and immediately stopped the camera from recording.

Hoseok's eyes widen.

Fuck.

They are being recorded.

"I'm not gonna finish this song, Hope. I know what to show to our ARMYs. I’ll let them know who loves you.” Yoongi slightly raised the camera.

He just smirked when Hoseok still remained quiet.

So much for writing a song.

#bts suga #bts jhope #yoonseok #yoonseok fic #sope #bts sope #bangtan #fluff #bts angst #bangtan angst #yoongi x hoseok

[cbraxs]

Warped [Time Warp Trio Fanfiction] - Chapter 8

Izzy ran away. Again.

She hefted on her snow coat on as she exited Joe’s house, throwing a hasty goodbye to his parents before the door slammed shut behind her. Light snow fell on the streets of Brooklyn, blanketing everything in a layer white. Izzy shivered, but not from the cold.

The Monocle Man… Mad Jack, was realer than ever. She dreaded this happening for years, clinging to the hope that maybe that incident with her and her mother was a bad dream she’d mistaken for a memory. In less than an hour, she’d met her boogie man, learned his name, and found out one of her friends was his nephew. Could she trust Joe anymore? Could she trust any of her friends?

Of course I can, she thought. Just because someone had bad relatives didn’t mean that they themselves were bad. Her maternal grandparents disowned their only daughter to the point of not even attending her funeral, but her mother was the most loving person she knew.

Izzy’s dad must have trusted Joe, too. Why else would he tell her to go find Joe if he was in cahoots with Mad Jack? If Joe was working with his uncle, something would’ve happened by now.

This opened more question for her. How did her mother know that time traveling madman? Did she know about time travel? What about her dad?

It wasn’t hard for her to believe that they knew about time travel and never told her. But why? She knew about magic. Her parents taught her what it was. They taught her how to use it, to respect, and not to abuse it. Why not tell her about time traveling?

Magic and time travel might be similar, but Izzy knew they weren’t the same. With magic, the witch or wizard was in complete control of the outcome if they studied, trained, and knew what they were doing. Time travel, at least from Izzy’s experience, wasn’t as clean cut. You could be prepared, know your history, have the means to protect yourself, but you could still be at the mercy of others. Between Master Mysterio and Mad Jack, Izzy knew how dangerous things could get.

So her parents kept it from her to protect her.

Izzy sighed, her breath trailing into the air in misty wisps. She was being a brat. For one reason or another, some kids didn’t have their parents looking out for them. She was lucky to have even one who cared about her safety. Izzy shouldn’t complain about a few kept secrets when her parents only meant to protect her. Besides, she had secrets as well. How could she be upset with her parents when she was keeping her situation away from her friends and not feel like a big fat hypocrite?

Were her parents time travelers? It made sense the more she thought about it. Her dad read her history books to sleep when she was little instead of picture books or fairy tales. Her mom would decorate their home with old-timey knickknacks that always seemed a bit more authentic than a Made in China replica.

There were other things, too. Vague memories of vacations when she was no older than three or four. Meeting people she’d later learned were dead for centuries. Trips to countries that no longer existed. For years thinking the great pyramids were white, only to find out in the fifth grade that that was hundreds and hundreds of years ago. Things she disregarded because she thought they were simple misunderstandings.

Those trips, however, ended with a visit to Egypt. Izzy remembered crying; her mother’s distressed face; cold, manic eyes that bore into her. She tried to recall more details, but it was like trying to roll a boulder uphill. Just when she was about to get somewhere, it would all come crashing back down, and she’d wind up back at square one.

Izzy tried to put these thoughts aside that night and get some rest, but the thoughts invaded her dreams, morphing and transforming into strange and weird images that confused her even further.

~*~

The next day at the Craft Shack, Izzy helped Joe pick out color chips and tried to stifle a yawn.

The Craft Shack was this local hobbyist store that carried everything an artist/seamstress/scrapbooker could ever want/need/buy and forget they had. It was meant to be just her and Joe picking out colors for their trick box, but Sam and Fred tagged along and she was happy to have them there.

Sam lagged behind, his nose in an engineering book. Despite declaring he had no eye for color theory, he chimed in every now and again, adding his two cents on what he thought about each shade of purple they looked at. Fred had… questionable taste when it came to color coordination. He seemed to think clashing colors would help them stand out more. It would, but not without damaging some corneas in the audience.

Joe was dead set on picking out the perfect colors for the trick box Izzy built for their talent show. Joe was one of the most ambitious people Izzy had ever met. The talent show wasn’t for another month, but ever since Joe asked for her help, they’ve been practicing whenever they could after school. Izzy was practically finished with the box so they could start working on the payoff of the trick instead of just the setup.

There were still things they needed to work on, outfits to buy, etcetera. It was a lot of work, but Izzy enjoyed it. At her old school, kids wouldn’t care enough to put together an act the way Joe did. She admired him for that.

“How about this one?” Joe asked, pulling out another purple paint chip.

“Dude, just pick one.” Fred waved a flippant hand at the row of paint chips. “These are all the exact same color.”

“No, they’re not,” Izzy said and picked out two different chips to show him. “Royal aubergine has more red in it than uncut amethyst, which is a lighter shade of purple. See?”

Fred nodded. “Oh, uh huh. Definitely.”

Izzy frowned. “Was that sarcasm?”

“Oh, uh huh. Definitely. Of course you can tell the difference. You’re a girl. Chicks see more colors than guys do.”

Sam shook his head. “Fred, that’s…” He blinked, reconsidering Fred’s statement. “Actually true.”

“See, what’d I tell ya? All these names are pointless. Violet Twilight? Lavender Razzmatazz? What even is a razzmatazz? Some kind of sprinkler?”

Izzy examined the last chip Fred pointed out. “It’s my middle name.”

“Lavender?” Sam asked.

“No.” She mentally kicked herself for even bringing it up. “It’s… Razzmatazz.”

Fred and Sam looked at her. Even Joe, who was previously fixated on looking at colors, turned to stare at her. After a second, they busted out laughing. Shoppers gave them weird looks as they passed by their isle.

“Razzmatazz?” Joe asked in disbelief. “So your name is Izzy Razzmatazz Shabazz?”

“Like the crayon?” Sam managed in-between laughs.

Fred wiped a tear from his eye. “How much did your parents like the letter Z?”

Izzy’s cheeks burned. “I-it was my parents’ incantation. When they did shows.”

She signed more heavily than she intended. Thinking of her parents reminded her of Mad Jack. Her hands trembled.  

The boys stopped laughing. Joe noticed her shaky hands. “You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Fred said. “We didn't mean anything by it.”

Izzy clenched her hands. “No, it's not that.”

“It's Mad Jack, isn’t it?” Joe asked.

Izzy flinched. Her first instinct was to brush off his guess but then she stopped herself. She wanted to tell him the truth, to tell all of them the truth. She wanted to talk about her troubles and she wanted to talk about it with her friends.

“You’re right,” she said. “I keep thinking about… Mad Jack. Yesterday wasn’t the first time I saw him.”

“So you do know him?” Joe asked.

Sam and Fred were both equally surprised. She realized they thought she knew more than she was letting on.

“No!” Izzy insisted. “It’s not like that. I don’t know know him. Not personally, anyway. I mean, I met him once before, like a hundred years ago. Well, a hundred divided by ten, give or take a couple years—”

“Slow down,” Fred rubbed his temples. “No one said that there was going to be math involved with this story.”

“Start from the beginning,” Sam suggested.

She looked down, twisting her earrings. Words were not her strong suit.

“I know Mad Jack freaked you out,” Joe said when she was silent for too long, “but we’ve dealt with him dozens of times before.”

“We haven’t actually seen him all that much lately,” Sam added. “He might’ve given up on trying to steal The Book.”

So Mad Jack wanted The Book? It made sense. The Book was seriously powerful and could do a lot of damage in the wrong hands.

Fred smiled with confidence and punched his palm. “If we do see him again, I’m sure we can handle him.”

Izzy wanted to cry in relief. She was grateful she had such great friends that wanted to ease her worries. She felt guilty for ever questing if she could trust them. She wanted them to trust her, too. Which meant no more secrets.

“I met Mad Jack when I was little,” she said. “Me and my mom went to see the pyramids. After that, it’s blurry. I remember his face, he said something or did something. My mom was so scared. She told me if I ever saw him, I needed to run. When we went to Mysterio’s show and he tricked me, that’s what he told me. He said word for word her warning to me.”

Joe shook his head. “That’s awful.”

“No wonder you ran,” Fred said.

“I never told anyone this before,” Izzy said, “but I trust you guys, which is why…”

“Why what?” Sam asked.

She had to tell them about her dad. But not here. Not like this. Her situation wasn’t exactly normal, and she’d already dumped a bunch on them today. Telling them would be easy, but how they’d handle it was a different story.

“Brownies,” she said. “We need the Brownies of Coping.”

The boys all looked at each other, confused. Fred was the first to ask, “Uh, the what of what now?”

“There's a lot of to go over,” Izzy said, “and I feel like if I start babbling about it next to the yarn, someone will overhear and I’ll get vaporacted.”

Joe frowned. “You mean baker acted.”

“That’s what I said.”

Fred held up his hands. “Wait, wait, wait. I’m all for free food, but why do we need brownies?”

“To soften the blow of difficult news,” Izzy explained, “you always need the Brownies of Coping. Whenever my parents had some hard news to tell me, like when my goldfish drowned, or that the Easter bunny wasn’t real, they’d make me brownies and—why are you guys looking at me like that? Do your parents not do this?”

“Uh, no,” Fred said. “That’s weird.”

Joe elbowed him. “It’s not weird. It’s just… not exactly common.”

“Because it’s weird.”

“Wouldn’t this tradition of yours lead to emotional eating?” Sam asked.

Izzy looked at him like he spoke in French. “What else are we supposed to do with brownies? They're not for show.”

“That's not what I... Never mind.”

“Well, if you’re making free food, I’m down,” Fred said. “What about you guys?”

~*~

Monday after school, Izzy weaved through the crowd on her way to her locker. The hall was filled with students heading to after-school clubs, chatting with their friends on their way to the car circle, and rushing to make it to their busses on time. By now, Fred would be on his way to baseball practice, Sam to mathletes. Joe had left earlier that day to get his braces tightened.

As Izzy stuffed her textbooks into her locker, a sheet of paper fluttered to the floor. She sighed. It was the pop quiz she had in math that morning. A big red 48% stared back at her, the second F she’d gotten on a math test since she’d transferred to H.G. Wells High. Mrs. Reynolds, her Algebra I teacher, talked to her after class about getting a student tutor to help her. Izzy didn’t mind asking for help, she was never the best at school. But getting help from another student felt embarrassing.

Why did they have add letters to math? Izzy thought. Letters, her only weakness.

She bent to pick the test up as a group of giggling girls headed down the hall behind her. One of them waved at her.

“Hey, Isabella,” she called out. “Loooove those pigtails, girl!”

“Too cute!” Another one said.

Izzy waved back. “Thanks, I—”

Their attention was already off her and back on each other, laughing as they headed towards the bus circle.

Izzy stood and grimaced. Those girls spoke at her, not to her. It left a bad feeling in her gut.

“Hey, Izzy!” A voice called.

It was Sam, making his way upstream through the crowd.

She crumbled the test and smiled. “Hey, Sam. I thought you had a meeting with the mathletes today.”

“I did,” he said, having reached her, “but Mrs. Reynolds had to cancel and go home. Something about faulty flip-flops and a cactus? Anyway, I figured, I meet up with you.”

“Cool.” Izzy tossed the test into her locker. “I could use your help moving the box to the theater, that is if you don’t mind?”

“Not at all, that is if I can even manage to move it. How big is it?”

She pulled her hands apart and squinted at the distance between them. “It’s about Joe’s size plus some… so about a Joe and a half?”

“Very specific.”

~*~

At shop class, Mr. Morrison greeted them. “Miss Shabazz and friend, welcome.”

Mr. Morrison was a middle-aged guy with long sandy hair and a scruffy beard. He always wore flannel and a permanent smile. Izzy didn’t take shop class, but Mr. Morrison was happy to let anyone who took interest in shop use the tools after school.

“Hope you two don’t mind some company while I run out to get your cart. I got someone coming to fix the projector— Oh speak of the devil.”

A girl with long dark hair up in a ponytail strolled in, her hands shoved in the pockets of her hoodie. If Izzy had been drinking, she would’ve spat it out. Sam made a terrified noise in the back of his throat.

Rin scowled at them.

“Y-y-you have students fix your electronics?” Sam asked Mr. Morrison.

“Isn’t that against several rules?” Izzy asked.

Mr. Morrison laughed. “So is leaving you alone with power tools every day while I go chat up that cute math teacher.”

“Wait, it is?”

Rin shook her head in disbelief.

Mr. Morrison clapped Rin on the back. “Patinkin here works better than the people who get paid to do it, and she actually comes down when you ask.”

“For a price,” Rin said.

“Of course, of course. I didn’t forget again.” He brought her over to the projector, explaining what didn’t work.

Meanwhile, Izzy showed Sam the chest she’d been working on. It was a simple solid wood chest, with vintage gold corner protectors and swirly designs carved along the sides. A lotus flower was carved onto the lid.

“Wow,” Sam said. “You made this yourself?”

Izzy nodded proudly. “Yup. I designed it after my parents’ chest.”

“Why don’t you and Joe just use that one?”

Izzy deflated a bit. “I had to leave it behind when I, uh, moved. I’ll explain later.”

Sam frowned but nodded. He inspected the chest with interest. “How’d you learn to do this?”

“My mom taught me. That woman was the queen of power tools.”

“You’re lucky,” Sam said. “I can come up with ideas, but I’m not the best at executing them.”

“I can help you build stuff,” she offered, “if you want a flying car made out of wood, nails, and a mess of gorilla glue.”

Sam chuckled. “Thanks, but that wouldn’t be at all practical.”

Izzy’s laugh was cut off by Rin banging the projector with her fist. “What did he do to you this time,” Rin muttered to herself. She mumbled curses under her breath and scrutinized the projector like a car that wouldn’t start.

Sam gulped then cleared his throat. “W-what’s wrong?”

Rin shot her eyes at Sam’s so fast he flinched. She glared at him for a second, before sighing in resignation. “Morrison manages to break this thing at least once a week. Usually, I can fix it by blah blahing the blah and blah, but I have no idea what wrong with it this time.”

Sam cautiously walked over to her. “These projectors are pretty old. There’s a component that pops out of place sometimes when it gets overheated. Have you tried blahing the blah blah?”

“I did blah.”

“Uh, what about blah blahing the blah blah?”

Okay, so they weren’t really saying “blah blah blah,” but Izzy couldn’t comprehend their technobabble. They might as well have been doing Chinese Sign Language.

Well, at least Rin understood what was being said. She tinkered with the projector as Sam suggested. It whirred to life and the light flickered onto the wall. Rin sighed and dropped her head. “Finally.” She slipped something silver into her hair that looked a bit like a flattened wrench. It disappeared into her mane of dark hair before Izzy could get a better look at it.

Sam headed back over to Izzy.

“Hey!” Rin called out.

Sam flinched. “Eep! I mean, yes?”

“Thank you.”

Sam stood there, stunned. “You’re welcome.”

Mr. Morrison pushed the cart into the room. “I come bearing gifts! Your payment, Patinkin. Heads up!”

He tossed Rin a can of Cherry Bovine. She caught it effortlessly and cracked it open. She threw Sam one last glance before downing the drink and sauntering out of the room.  

“You pay her in energy drinks?” Sam asked.

“Those were her terms,” Mr. Morrison. “Now, let’s load up this chest, shall we?”

~*~

“So what do you think Izzy wants to tell us?” Fred asked Joe.

The two of them waited at the porch of Izzy’s apartment complex and tried not to look like stalkers. Joe’s mom dropped him off after his dentist appointment and Fred showed up a little later, fresh out of practice.

“Beats me,” Joe said. He winced. He’s gotten his braces tightened before and knew how to combat the pain by taking some ibuprofen beforehand. But the anesthesia was wearing off and his mouth was beginning to ache. “She already told us her history with Mad Jack. What could top that?”

Joe fiddled with the object in his hand—some miscellaneous plastic and Styrofoam pieces mixed with a few rubber bands in a plastic sleeve. He’d been thinking about the same question Fred had since Sunday. He couldn’t figure out what was so bad Izzy felt like she needed to give them food as some sort of apology.

Fred blew rings into the cold air. “Maybe she— oh there they are. Hey guys!”

He waved at Sam and Izzy bounding down the sidewalk towards the two of them. Izzy spotted them, and smiled, waving back enthusiastically. “Joe! Fred! Were you twowaiting here long?”

“I can’t tell,” Joe said, “my watch froze.” He handed her the object in his hand. “Here. You’d appreciate this a lot more than me.”

It took her a second to understand what it was. She grinned. “Is this one of those DIY whirly helicopter toys?”

“Yeah,” Joe said. “The dentist still thinks I’m ten. I usually toss ‘em.”

Izzy oohed and ahhed at the toy as she let them in.

“I guess it’s true what they say.” Fred shrugged off his jacket. “One dude’s trash is another chick’s treasure.”

“The treasure, in this case, being a child’s toy that will break in six minutes,” Sam said flatly.

Izzy’s home was a cozy little studio apartment. Some paintings hung on the wall he recognized as hers. There was a TV almost as long as Joe was tall across from a pink and turquoise bed-sized couch with matching polka dot pillows. Comics and art supplies were strewn across the coffee table.

Looking around, Joe noticed how small her apartment was. He rubbed his achy jaw. “You live here with your dad?”

Her face darkened and he mentally kicked himself. He hadn’t meant to sound rude.

“I’ll explain in a bit,” Izzy said. She dropped her backpack and made a beeline for the kitchen, letting her rabbits out of their cage on her way.

“Cage” didn’t do it justice, it was a three-story bunny condo that took up a big chunk of the room, filled with toys, deluxe, fluffy bunny beds, and plenty of room for the rabbits to hop around in.

Dini hopped out to greet them. Bess turned her nose up at them and stayed in her condo.

“I think your rabbit hates us,” Fred said to Izzy, scratching Dini on the back.

“She’s just a shy baby,” Izzy said. She pulled something from the freezer. “You guys wanna give them a treat? They like Bok Choy.”

She handed Joe an ice pack.

“This doesn’t look like Chinese cabbage,” he joked.

She chuckled. “It’s for your jaw. It looked like it hurt.”

“Oh. Thanks.” He was caught off guard by her gesture, he barely noticed the ice pack was the girliest shade of pink dotted with white hearts. Fred snickered at him but otherwise didn’t say anything.

The three of them fed her rabbits Bok Choy while doing their homework. Well, Sam did his homework. Joe and Fred thumbed through her video game collection. There were the expected things like DDR, Guitar Hero, some sci-fi and fantasy RPGs for the Wii. Then he saw the last thing he expected to see.

He pulled the game out. There was no mistaking the grungy white font splattered with blood and gore, and the ominous hill in the background. “What are you doing with a copy of Hill of the Dead?”

Izzy smiled embarrassingly and scratched her cheek, smearing flour across her face. “I, uh, really like the atmosphere?”

“Seriously?” Fred asked. “We played this game when it first came out. The lights were on and Sam still nearly wet his pants.”

“I did not!” Sam protested.

“He totally did,” Joe said.

Sam turned his glare from Fred to Joe before rolling his eyes and returning to his homework.

After an hour, the brownies were finally done. Izzy called them over to the breakfast bar and handed them each a napkin.

“I haven’t made brownies in a while,” she said, cutting them each a neat square piece. “I hope you guys like them.”

Joe placed the ice pack on the bar. “They smell amazing.”

Fred was the first to scarf one down in his usual way. He stiffened as if someone flicked him in between the eyes. “Oh, my God…”

“What’s wrong?” Izzy asked. “Did I add too much salt?”

“These brownies are incredible!” Fred grabbed the pan of brownies and started cutting himself a large slice. “Izzy, marry me and make these for me all the time. Better yet, I’ll just marry these brownies.”

Sam rolled his eyes and brought his brownie to his mouth. “Fred, they can’t be that–”

Fred pushed Sam’s hand to shove the treat into his mouth. Sam’s pupils dilated. “Holy cow.”

“Right?!”

Joe took a bite out of his brownie and understood. They were fluffy and sweet—but not too sweet—with the chocolate morsels still warm. It melted in his mouth.

“How did you manage to bake happiness into these?” Joe asked.

“It’s just butter and love,” Izzy said, “It’s my mom’s recipe.”

“I can taste the love,” Sam said, getting another slice.

Izzy poured them each a glass of milk as they chowed down on brownies. “Okay,” Joe said coming back up for air. “You sweetened us up enough. What did you have to tell us?”

The three of them looked at her expectantly. She put down the gallon of milk and sighed, lacing her fingers together. “You already noticed that my place is pretty small. Well, that’s because my dad doesn’t live with me. I mean, he used to, but he left a couple weeks ago.”

“So you live all by yourself?” Joe asked.

“It’s not that bad,” she lied. She didn’t look them in the eye.

Fred’s expression turned serious. “Oh, man.” Then he grinned. “You could totally through a wicked party here!”

Izzy frowned. Joe and Sam gave him a Seriously? look.

Fred cleared his throat. “Just a thought.”

“Anyway,” Izzy said, “weeks ago, my dad disappeared in the middle of the night. He left me a letter explaining some things.”

She pulled out a folded piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to Joe. He looked at her and she nodded, giving him the go-ahead to read it aloud. “Isadora, when you wake up, I will be long gone. I can’t say for certain where I’ll be. I need you to follow my instructions very carefully. This is extremely important. It’s a matter of your safety.”

So far, so strange, Joe thought. He kept reading.

“Pack up your things and move out as soon as possible. I put the address on the fridge; a moving crew will help you. Our home is no longer safe. Afterward, you NEED to destroy this note.”

Joe looked at her. “This isn’t going to blow up in my face, is it?”

Izzy shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

That’s reassuring, he thought. “Put these earrings on IMMEDIATELY. “Spin them so the sand is always pouring. The sand moves slowly, so you won’t have to do it often. I’ve enrolled you into a new school on Friday. Find the magician named Joe.” Joe shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “He can protect you if the need arises.”

“Why Joe?” Fred asked as if reading Joe’s mind.

Joe lowered the note. “Yeah. I don’t know your dad. Well, I know of your dad but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know me, like, at all.”

Izzy shrugged helplessly.

“Not to be that guy—” Sam started to say.

“You love being that guy,” Fred pointed out.

“Maybe your dad meant Joe’s uncle?”

That made sense to Joe. Still, he didn’t think uncle Joe knew Izzy or her dad either. His uncle would’ve mentioned them before, even in passing.

Joe continued. “Money will be left for you every week for you to buy whatever you need. There will be more than enough for you to order takeout, buy painting supplies, or some other third thing. Think of it as an apology for my absence, though I know this doesn’t make up for it.”

Izzy shrunk into herself. Joe felt weird about reading the next part, partly because it was so personal, partly because she got sadder and sadder the more he read. But she didn’t try to stop him and he already read most of it.

“I am truly sorry for leaving you with no adequate explanation. I realize I should’ve explained things to you sooner, the way your mother wanted. But we shouldn’t change the past, only learn from it. Isadora, I wanted you to have a normal life, unperturbed by the dangerous adventures awaiting you in your future. I only wanted to protect you.

“I have no idea when I’ll be back. I WILL be back. Whatever you do, do NOT go looking for me. I know it'll be difficult, but understand that I'm doing this for your sake. Love, always and infinitely, your father, Anthony J. Shabazz.”

Joe lowered the letter. The room was silent for a while as the three of them took in this information.

“Now I get why you wanted to sweeten us up,” Sam said finally.

“So your dad just left you all alone?” Joe asked.

“That’s nothing new,” Izzy explained. “He’s left before, not just the time I told you about back at the museum. I have no clue where he goes, but he’s always back in a week and we always talked about it beforehand. This time, I got no warning, no time to prepare. Everything was fine one day, and then he was gone in the morning. I…”

Her voice quivered at the end. She cleared her throat. “I know it’s a lot to ask…” She looked at Joe with pleading eyes. “Can I use your Book to find my dad?”

He rubbed his arm. “I dunno, Iz. He said not to try and find him and—”

“I don’t care anymore. It’s been too long. I need to know that he’s okay. Please, Joe?”

Joe wasn’t sure. Her dad was pretty clear in the letter for her not to go after him. Joe may not understand what was going on with him, but it was obvious that whatever it was, it was serious. Izzy should stay put until he came back.

But then Izzy gave him the puppy dog eyes, and Joe’s resolve shattered.

He sighed. “Okay. I’ll help you find your dad.”

He pulled The Book out of his bag and Sam nearly fell out of his seat. “You can’t pull that thing out without giving us a warning!”

Joe rolled his eyes. “Sam, do you know how many times I’ve had The Book on me when you were around and we didn’t warp?”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“Yes!”

Fred clapped Sam on the back. “Relax. Joe totally knows what he’s doing.”

“Yeah, until he doesn’t,” Sam muttered.

Joe was just going to ignore that little quip for now. He’s been doing this for years at this point, and most of the time (like five—no six—times out of ten) things went off almost without a hitch. He was going to become a level three warper any day now. For a kid whose gotten minimum guidance when it came to operating a magical time machine when he was ten, that wasn’t half bad.

Joe flipped open The Book and looked for any mention of Izzy’s dad. Usually, he could find a single person, historical or not, easily if he thought about them, as if The Book was reading his intentions. But he couldn’t a single entry on Anthony J. Shabazz.

“What’s wrong?”

Izzy’s voice broke Joe out of his concentration. He realized he’d been scrunching his eyebrows. “I can’t find him anywhere. Maybe if I try looking for you I’ll get to him.”

And he did, finding Izzy easily. Isadora Razzmatazz Shabazz, born October 31st 1995, yadda yadda yadda, daughter of Dulari Shabazz and                                           .

Joe stared at blank space in total bewilderment. “What?”

“What what?” Fred asked.

“I’m sure it’s just a mistake.” He turned the page and came across his family tree. He was ready to turn the page; he’d seen his own family tree dozens of times, but then he stopped. It wasn’t his, it was Izzy’s. A portrait of Izzy sat at the top of the tree, the thin, winding branches connecting her to her ancestors towards the base. Beneath her was a picture of her mother, a beautiful woman with long, flowing dark hair. Where Izzy’s dad’s picture should have been was a blacked out box like someone scribbled his picture out with a marker.

“This is so weird,” Joe said, half to himself. “It’s like he doesn’t exist.”

Izzy grimaced, her worry etched all over her face. Joe stood. “Let me try something,” he said. “Let’s warp back to the night he left. If we both confront him before he leaves, he’ll have to give us some answers.”

It was a long shot, but at the moment there weren’t many other options. Izzy smiled, her eyes alight with hopeful determination. “Let’s do it.”

Joe turned to Sam and Fred. “This shouldn’t take long, guys.” He opened to the transporter page.

“Wait!” Izzy bounded around the breakfast bar and clamped onto Joe’s arm.

He looked down at her. “You gonna do this every time?”

“If I can help it.”

Joe shrugged and hit enter. Green mist surrounded them and they were sucked into the glowing green cyclone of mist.

~*~

Joe would like to say that after warping with The Book for nearly six years he was a total pro. At best, five-and-a-half times out of ten he’d land on his feet after reaching his destination.

Time travel with The Book was a smooth ride as long as you were prepared and knew how to right yourself so you didn’t end up tumbling through space like a dead fish down a flight of stairs.

Unfortunately, Izzy hadn’t mastered the technique yet. As soon as they left her apartment, she lost her grip on his arm. She yelled and flailed as she plummeted along, bumping into the misty walls of the wormhole like a pinball.

Suddenly, the green mist around them stopped churning. Izzy slammed into an invisible wall and sprung back like she bounced off a trampoline. She was hurled, screaming, into Joe, the force of her impact throwing them both back to their starting point.

They dropped back into Izzy’s place, crashing right on the floor on top of each other. The Book bounced off Joe’s shoulder and slid to the TV.

Sam and Fred jumped. “You guys alright?” Fred asked.

Joe helped Izzy up. “Yeah, I think so.”

“What the heck happened?” Sam asked.

“I have no clue.” Joe explained what happened to the two of them.

Izzy rubbed her shoulder. “H-has that ever happened before?”

Joe shook his head. He hadn’t the slightest idea what the heck was going on. He’d never encountered this before. There was once or twice when one of them was stuck in The Book, midwarp, but they were never slammed into an inviso-wall and pitched like a fastball back home.

Izzy’s shoulders slumped as she went to pick The Book off the floor. “Thanks for trying anyway, Joe.”

“There might be another way,” Joe said. “I know who might be able to help.” He meant Jodie. He hated to admit, but Jodie knew how to work The Book better than anyone he knew, maybe even his uncle Joe. If anyone could help, it was her.

“You’ve done a lot already,” Izzy said. “I feel like a burden.”

“It’s no problem, really,” Joe insisted. “I want to help you.”

She smiled at him, but her eyes were sad. “It’s not fair to leave it all on you. I just wish I knew what was going on so I could help, at least…”

Izzy hugged The Book to herself, and green mist seeped from the pages, cocooning her. A final look of shock flashed across her face before she vanished into The Book.

The three of them stared in shock at the spot where Izzy previously stood.

Fred gripped the sides of his head. “We lost her again!”

“Where did she even go?” Sam asked.

Again that day, Joe had no answer.

~*~

Izzy ricocheted off the side of a pyramid and fell on her face, eating a handful of sand. She stood and spat, trying to catch her bearings. The tall white pyramid standing before her told her she was in Egypt. Ancient Egypt. She turned. Nearby, there were remnants of an old settlement. A few people milled around, but it looked abandoned otherwise, with the housing falling apart.

Further away was the palace. A sea of people gathered in front, their cheers audible even in the distance.

The Book was still in her arms, no doubt unable to slip away while in the vice grip she had on it. This was good. It meant she could just warp back home… that is if she even remotely knew how The Book worked.

“It can’t be that hard,” she lied to herself and opened The Book. “All I have to do is figure out what I have to do. Easy-peasy.”

The letters on the pages flipped and twitched and swam around. Izzy shut her eyes and breathed, trying to calm herself. If she was too freaked to even read, then there was no way she was getting back home. She needed to relax.

She exhaled and opened her eyes, the words less chaotic than before. She managed to find instructions and she stumbled through a couple pages.

A burst of yellow light in her peripheral broke her out of her concentration. After a moment, a little girl no more than three ran from around the corner and bumped into Izzy’s legs. The little girl giggled and snapped a photo of her with a disposable camera.

Izzy just stared at the child, unable to understand who she was looking at.

“Slow down, Malpua!”

A woman appeared from the corner, and Izzy’s heart sunk.

Her long chocolate hair flowed behind her as she raced to the little girl, not noticing Izzy yet. The little girl turned and snapped a picture of her mother.

The mother knelt and gently took the camera out of the daughter’s hands, a soft smile on her face. “Oh, Malpua, don’t use up all the film.”

“Sorry, Mama,” the little girl said.

Izzy dropped The Book. A lump grew in her throat, salt rubbed into the wound that never quite healed.

The woman frown at The Book, then her eyes shot wide. She looked up and met Izzy’s eyes, noticing her for the first time.

Izzy gulped. “Mom.”

#time warp trio #timewarptrio #fanfiction #fanfic #fan character #OC #joe #sam #fred #izzy #high school #time travel

[kapmarvin]

The Coupvid Ideology

What have we learned from Brexit?

Five years ago, the citizens of the UK held a piece of this country’s future in the palms of their hands. We each had a responsibility to handle that future with care, and with respect for the retribution it might exact for our mishandling.

Those who wished to leave the EU were not persuaded with reasoned arguments to change their minds. Instead, they were scapegoated, as if by magic this might squash their legitimate grievances or shame them into acquiescence. The result is that today we are no longer in the EU, and as a sovereign state are bitterly divided.

We have still not learned from this lesson.

Today, the country is divided once more, this time by Coronavirus. Most, it would appear, consent to the established narrative. But many are sceptical. Again, these people are scapegoated. Their questions and grievances go unrecognised. Once more, the result is bitter division.

But the reasons for today’s scepticism are the same as those of five years ago. It is not due to conspiracy theories today, as it was not due to racism then. Those are merely pretexts for discrediting and marginalising dissent. Today’s scepticism is due to the difference of personal circumstances that is the result of living in a class society. Five years ago, what drove the sentiments in large part that led to Brexit were not those of racism but of inequality and poverty. The same is true today; though the powerful wish to console us that we are in this together and will prevail together, the truth is that in a class society we are never in anything together, and that the same event has completely different meanings to those at the top of society and those at the bottom. If we appear to be in the same boat, it is only because ours are strapped to the sides of theirs.  

It is easy to accept the established narrative if you are one of those who have not lost their livelihood, their liberty, their society and their rights. But for those who have lost these things – in a word, the very meaning of their lives (exactly what was lacking preceding the referendum and other far worse political events throughout history) – the cost is far greater than that of a pandemic that for many is in itself intangible.

The tangible effects of the pandemic for many people - those they can see and feel for themselves - are like the layers of an onion; once you remove the daily onslaught of dread mainstream media, the dystopian impositions on personal liberty, rights and freedom of work, life, expression and association; once you remove the measures, regulations and restrictions imposed nominally to mitigate the effects of the pandemic; when finally the last layer of the onion is removed, what is revealed is a conspicuous absence. I would challenge people to renounce mainstream media for a week and see what effect this has on their perceptions; I am confident it would engender a great change. If they were to then continue this experiment for a month, I am confident many would never return to mainstream media ever again.

Many have never felt any evidence of the pandemic itself, only its peripheral effects. Many have never fallen ill, know anyone who has fallen ill, seen anyone fall ill or personally know of anyone having died. To them, this pandemic has little more reality than a story, little more reality than theirs has to those free to sit the pandemic out in relative comfort and undisturbed ease. What does have reality to them is the previously unimaginable strangling of their lives and livelihoods. For these people, accepting the mainstream narrative would require a leap of faith that would be impossible without trust. But how can these people, who have been excluded and forgotten, be reasonably expected to trust anyone, let alone the state?  

Not finding any satisfactory answers to their questions and scepticism in the places that are charged with the responsibility of providing these very necessities, and finding themselves and their concerns belittled, ridiculed, intimidated, shamed, censored and scapegoated, they have gone elsewhere to satisfy their legitimate human needs. And where they have found these needs met, they have found a completely new narrative; one that begets a completely different set of priorities and concerns to those of the established narrative and all those who subscribe to it. And with no bridge between these two very different and opposed worlds, we find ourselves, not once more but even more, in a bitterly divided state.

What is most needed to build this bridge is what is always needed in a democracy: open discourse. Without it, we have no right to call ourselves a democracy. But that is exactly what is grievously absent. If not for the pretext of a pandemic, the conduct of the establishment would be identified for exactly what it is: flagrantly totalitarian, and increasing by the day. Once more, the concerns of those who have been diverted from the established narrative are legitimate. Anyone who takes a sincere look beyond the scapegoating and marginalising of these people to what they are trying to tell us will find that to a large enough degree, their concerns are real and very serious. If the claims of the established narrative are well-founded, then just as many of them are utterly bogus. If no better can be said for those of the new narrative, then no worse can be said either. Anyone who takes a disinterested and critical look at both sides of this argument will find just and unjust alike in both, as is the case with most debates. If anything sets them apart, it is not credibility, but interests.

Interests are the real difference behind the narratives driving our divisions today, just as they were five years ago; just as they are everywhere and for all time.

Throughout the history of the world, the human story in all its complexity and ambiguity has time and again been torn into neat, binary pieces and sold back to us by those who seek to further their own interests by dividing the rest of us. Being ourselves innocent of such malice, we have responded to their cajoling, forsaking our power to these impotent frauds in exchange for a security that was never anyone’s but ours before we relinquished it. Today is no different. Today is a single moment that has moved through all time that we call History. Only today, the stakes have never been greater. Once again, we are being sold a divided narrative for a divided people...

Once again, we will get what we buy.

(January 2021)

[savageunderground-blog]

Charmaine Olivia's Winter Spring Color Tutorial

Meet Charmaine Olivia, a 'self-taught fine art painter' from Southern California known for her highly detailed paintings. Her clients have included: Urban Outfitters, Lady Gaga, Hallmark, Volcom Stone, Vans Shoes, Element, Nylon Magazine, Burton, and many more. Check out her portfolio on here website! And if you haven't yet, we highly recommend subscribing to her newsletter. Which, is where we found most of the information on Charmaine's Winter Spring Color tutorial.

As part of her upcoming launch for her limited edition print entitled "Winter Spring," Charmaine takes us behind the process of creating the piece.  And to start off the how-to here is Charmaine:

COLOR

Charmaine: " I wanted to share with you a part of the process behind creating this painting. Today I will be talking about one of my favorite things.. COLOR! While creating my goddesses of Winter and Spring, I wanted COLOR to be the defining factor symbolizing the seasons. Blue being Winter, Green being Spring. I began with painting the Winter goddess and her frosty world of snowflakes and clouds. Then I imagined the transition from Winter to Spring, with Spring being marked by rain and sunlight. In basic color theory, when you combine blue and yellow, you create green.  If I imagine sunlight as being yellow,, combined with the blue of Winter, you would would create the green growth of new life. So the goddess of Spring is represented by luminous tones of greens. She is the embodiment of LIGHT of GROWTH. She is the pure light that melts the ice of winter and encourages the plants to grow. "

Charmaine: "Before I begin painting, I arrange the colors on my palette. Since this painting has many nuanced shades of blues and greens, I thin out the paint with Turpenoid and blend the colors together to create smooth in-between colors. Paint can be divided into two basic groups, transparent and opaque. To put it simply, transparent colors are see-through, and opaque colors are not."

Charmaine: "I don't use any one particular brand of oil paint, but instead I like to try out various kinds and observe their subtle differences. I always encourage experimentation to find colors and textures that speak to you. Some of my favorite brands are Winsor & Newton, Gamblin, and Old Holland. But even the basic, lowest grade oil paint can be great! It's all about how you use it. :) These are some colors I used for this painting:

Holbein - Luminous Lemon (Transparent) Old Holland - Scheveningens Green (Transparent) Old Holland - Scheveningens Blue (Transparent) Gamblin - Cobalt Teal (Opaque) Holbein - Ice Green (Opaque) Winsor & Newton - Titaniuim White (Opaque) There are an innumerable number of effects and textures you can create using all the different colors and mediums, which can feel overwhelming! But for new artists, I always recommend not getting too caught up with brands or rules, but to choose colors that you like, choose brushes that feel good in your hand, and just GO FOR IT. No matter what happens, you will learn. Even if your painting looks absolutely horrible to you, that doesn't matter! Art is an expression, and even if it looks weird to you, creating is a brave act. Inevitably you will learn something about yourself, and next time you paint, you'll apply when you have learned."

THE PALETTE

Charmaine: "The artist's best friend! I like to use a glass palette, but I also use palette pads, and have made use of all sorts of things for the sake of a "palette".  When in a pinch, I have used my thumbnail, the back of my hand, a desk, or the nearest surface available. A lot of the painting happens on the palette. It's where you can mix the colors together, test out brush strokes, and find interesting color combinations.  I have always thought, "messy palette, messy mind". When my palette is clean and my colors are organized, I find that painting just FLOWS so beautifully and much more effortlessly. If I have every color that I need ready to go, it requires less thought and less interruption to the creative process. Sometimes when you're in a good flow, a simple lack of a particular shade of blue can pull you out of your world and completely derail and idea. And thus, the creative process is endlessly unpredictable. I try to influence these factors as much as I can. If I am able to keep my palette clean, organized, and available, there's less things for me to think about other than the painting in front of me. But that doesn't mean my palette doesn't end up looking like a total disaster by the end of the day! But that's why I love glass palettes, to keep them clean all you have to do is scrape off the dried paint with a razor blade."

THE BRUSHES

Charmaine: "Your paint brush is an extension of your mind. As you hold the brush, your hand moves with subtle inflections, sensing the pressure, the angle, and degree to which you apply the brush to the canvas. It does what you tell it to, though sometimes it has a mind of it's own. It's your magic wand!

Because there are so many brands, sizes, shapes, and prices, I like trying new kinds and finding new favorites. I usually have various shapes of tiny, small, medium, and large sizes each used for varying levels of detail.   

Here are some I used for Winter Spring, from Left to Right: 1. Princeton round 0 - Good for small details like eyelashes, snowflakes and the shine in the eyes.  2. Princeton Oval Mop 1/4" - I use this for petals and cloud details. 3. Princeton Oval Mop 1/2" - Used for slightly larger petals and details. 4. Makeup Brush - I absolutely love using makeup brushes! They come in all sorts of fluffy shapes and sizes, and usually with beautiful handles! They’re great for blending colors into soft and fluffy gradients. Ideal for clouds! There is a large selection of amazing oil painting brushes out there that can cost a ridiculous amount of money, and they are really extraordinary to paint with, but I have found that some of the cheapest brushes can work great as well! What matters is how it feels in your hand. If you like the feeling, then use it. But sometimes, I don't even use a brush!"

THE TOOLS

Charmaine: Hours can go by in a painting before I realize I haven't picked up a paint brush in a while! I often find that unconventional tools can give you really interesting and organic effects.  1. The Q-Tip - My personal favorite! It works great for smudging and blending paint together. I also like to use it by dipping it in thinned out paint for the sketch layer of a painting instead of using pencil (which can muddy up my colors).  2. The Palette Knife - Excellent for mixing colors on your palette. Also great for globbing paint on to your canvas! Painting with a palette knife feels a bit like spreading frosting on to a cupcake. 3. The Color Shaper - I love using these to doodle in the paint. The soft rubber tip on the end works by scraping away the paint layer, or "erasing" the paint. In fine art terms, the technique is called "Sgraffito", essentially scratching away the wet paint to reveal the color underneath. I use it for "erasing" color to make highlights even brighter. 4. The Paper Towel - My other personal favorite. I use a paper towel for just about anything. It's also good for "erasing" and removing the paint for hilights. I also like to dip it in paint and use it as a “brush”.  It's not good to get oil paint on your skin, so I try my best to wear gloves. But sometimes, nothing beats the look and feel of using your finger! It is especially handy for blending and smudging. I hope these little tidbits helped!"

Thank you Charmaine for walking us through your painting process. We are looking forward to seeing more of your work. And if you haven't checked out her website yet or subscribed to her newsletter, we highly suggest doing so! And if you do not know how-to paint, but would really like to. We highly suggest giving it a try and looking for more tutorials from Charmaine. Charmaine and the Savage Underground Hustlers all believe, we're all artists. Charmaine herself 'believes that every being is an artist in their own way, and allowing that creative spark to express itself is vital for the future world we want to create.' And the Hustlers support everyone giving whatever medium of art self expression a shot. And slowly and truly, day-by-day, get better at your craft. As we like to say at Savage Underground,

"TO CREATE YOU MUST TRUST THE PROCESS"

Till the next post, keep grinding!

Sincerely,

The Hustlers  

Let Us Know What You Think

@SAVGUNDRGRND

#charmaine olivia #painting #doer #how-to #the process

[ellenembee]

Rylen Appreciation Week - Day 1

A super belated entry for Day 1 - Rylen and the templars. It turned into a beast, so I didn’t end up writing any of the other things I wanted. :( But I’m happy with how this turned out. :)

Lucky

Starkhaven Circle, 10 Drakonis, 9:32 Dragon

“Maker’s blood, Corbel, we’ll grow old and die before you manage a good shuffle. Give ‘em here.”

Rylen plucked the deck from the hands of the slightly drunk templar to his left. With a few flicks of his wrist, Rylen deftly shuffled and cut the cards before handing them back to Corbel to deal.

“Oh, well 'scuse me if I didn’t grow up tagging along with the infamous Ironside brothers and their infamous Wicked Grace 'tournaments.’”

Corbel’s slight slurring undermined his snide tone, but still, the comment hit home. As the youngest of the reigning Ironside family, Rylen had rarely done more than annoy his older brothers with questions or sit in the corner shuffling cards during those so-called tournaments.

As a family, the Ironsides had distinguished themselves hundreds of years ago for their integral contributions to the original architecture of Starkhaven. All the stone for every major building, including the Chantry, had been quarried, intricately carved, precisely measured, cut and placed by Rylen’s ancestors.

He’d left all that behind to do something useful, but the name followed him like a ragged cur, nipping at his heels and otherwise proving to be a royal pain in his arse. The other templars, especially those from the area, knew his surname, but he kept it quiet as much as possible.

Knight-Lieutenant Rylen. That was all anyone need ever call him again.

As the cards for the next hand piled up in front of each of the five templars at the table, Rylen grimaced. He quickly schooled his features into a neutral expression, however, as he’d learned long ago to ignore any mention of his family. The templar to Rylen’s right, a Ser Galen, picked up his own cards, glanced at them and then immediately threw them back down in disgust.

“I can’t catch a break tonight. I’m out.”

“Can’t take the heat, Galen?” Corbel razzed.

“I would take a decent hand for once,” Galen countered, “but you can’t seem to dish it out.”

Rylen and the other two templars, Sers Remi and Nyrene, snorted into their cards at the affronted look on Corbel’s face. Corbel made an inappropriate finger gesture in Galen’s direction as the other templar stood up and headed for the door. Rylen smacked Corbel upside the head before turning to call after Galen.

“No reason to get worked up over an empty-headed buffoon who can’t properly deal cards to save his life. Come back. We’ll re-deal.”

But Galen shook his head, a good-natured smile on his face. “Thanks, but I’ve got an early patrol tomorrow.” He walked out the door, but then popped his head back around the door frame. “I’ll be sure to tell Knight-Captain Randall where you all are if I see him.”

Nyrene chucked her empty wooden cup at his disappearing face and called after him, “Do that and you’ll have no one to cover for you next time you get fall-on-your-face drunk before a Harrowing!”

A distant “Bah!” wafted back to them, and they all chucked softly. The small room where the five of them had gathered on their night off had started out years ago as a storage room, but as the templars had been gradually banned from openly congregating on off hours under the strict rules of Knight-Captain Randall, the room near the top of the tower had become a secret haven of sorts for them to blow off steam without losing their marbles.

“So, are we still playing or not?” Remi asked as she hiked her cards up a little closer to her face.

“Of course,” Rylen responded immediately. “I’m not afraid of you, even if you do already have half my week’s wages in that pile there.”

He gestured to her veritable mountain of coin. She lovingly ran her fingers over her haul and quirked a seductive brow at him.

“If you’re out of coin, we can always up the stakes.”

Rylen smirked at her obvious meaning. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d ended up in nothing but the skin the Maker gave him after a card game with Remi. Thing was, she always made it worth his while.

He was about to say something to that effect when muffled shouts reached his ears. The shouts got louder, accompanied now by the pounding of armored boots on stone stairs.

As one, the four templars pushed away from the table and began donning their gear as they rushed for the door. Rylen took an extra moment to buckle his sword around his waist and emerged from the room to find a frantic Galen pulling them down the hallway and talking a mile a minute.

“You have to hurry! We’ve got to get everyone out! It’s too late to-”

“Woah, now,” Rylen interrupted as he caught up and placed a steadying hand on Galen’s shoulder. “Start from the beginning. What’s-”

Galen was already shaking his head and moving away. “There’s no time! We have to get out! The tower is on fire!”

Rylen followed after Galen, with Remi, Nyrene and Corbel at his back. He allowed himself a split second of panic before he got down to business.

“Where’s the Knight-Commander?” Rylen barked.

“Don’t know!”

“Knight-Captain?”

Galen shook his head frantically. “I only found out because I was in my way down to the basement to visit Kelli. The whole library… up in flames. Mages were trying to contain it, but…”

Rylen came to a sudden halt. “The fire’s on the second floor?” A pale-faced Galen nodded. “It will block everyone’s exit.”

Galen’s face paled further as he nodded again. The panic flared brighter, but Rylen smothered it. He had to think.

“What do we do?” Nyrene asked in a shaky voice.

When no one answered, Rylen looked up to find all four templars looking at him… At which point it occurred to him that he was the ranking templar in the group. He swallowed hard. Then got to it.

“Corbel and Nyrene, get up to the top floor. Sweep all the rooms. Pound on the doors and yell for everyone to evacuate, but don’t stop. Once you’ve covered that floor, go down two floors and get everyone there. Send people out as quickly as you can. Then get out. Got it?”

“Yes, Knight-Lieutenant!”

“Go!”

They both scrambled for the stairs, and Rylen turned to Galen and Remi. “You two, do the same for this floor and the floors below.”

Remi hesitated. “What about you?”

“I’m going to make sure we don’t miss anyone.”

She looked about to argue, but Rylen turned away with a barked order to get to it. He followed after Corbel and Nyrene, his heart pounding harder in his chest as the acrid smell of charred paper wafted up the stairwell.

A wispy layer of smoke hung in the air on the top floor, and Rylen choked a little as he scoured the floor after the other two. He came across a few bleary-eyed, night-shift templars and directed them down the stairs. When he was satisfied the floor was cleared, he headed down.

He kept it up for the next eight floors, occasionally catching a straggler and sending them packing. By the time he reached the third floor, a small group of mages had congregated at the stairwell. Only mages. No other templars. Rylen pushed his way through the group only to find the stairway blocked by debris.

“They were trying to stop the blaze with ice, but several bookcases shattered under the strain,” a mage offered in a trembling voice. “They are trying to get through to us… At least… I think they are.”

Already, tendrils of smoke curled around the debris at the bottom of the stairs. Rylen growled and turned to the small group.

“Well I’m not keen on waiting for someone else to save us. What specialties do we have in the group?”

The mages looked around at each other, clearly terrified. Rylen growled again.

“'Tis a simple question! D'ye wish te save yerselves 'r not?”

“I’m focusing on ice magic,” offered the same woman from before. Two others echoed her declaration.

“Excellent. You’ll be making an ice tunnel for us all to get through. Anyone else?”

Rylen divided out the storm mages and tasked them with making rain. One of the fire mages revealed he knew some fire suppression glyphs he’d been working on as part of a larger spell.

“Though it’s only theoretical,” the mage warned. “I haven’t tested it, yet.”

“Well, you’ve got your chance today,” Rylen said as he turned to the remaining mage, a petite elf with fiery red hair.

“And what do you do?”

She shrugged. “I’m going to move that debris for you.”

He lifted a brow at her. “Force mage?”

“Aithlin, at your service, Knight-Lieutenant,” she responded, giving him an exaggerated curtsey.

In no mood for theatrics, Rylen shook his head and looked down the stairs at the heavily smoking debris.

“Maker protect us. We’re out of time,” he murmured before raising his voice. “Alright everyone, here’s the plan. We’ll move forward as a group, clearing debris and keeping our group shielded by ice and rain as we go. We have to move quickly because…” Rylen paused as he looked at the group of mages. “Well, you all know your limits.”

They nodded. Not one challenged him, not even the impertinent, red-haired Aithlin. He prayed to the Maker that he wasn’t leading them all to their deaths.

Just then, the stones groaned under their feet, and the whole floor shuddered. Before the shudders stopped, Rylen spun on his heel and flew down the stairs, the mages not far behind. At the bottom, he reached for a beam blocking their path, but Aithlin stepped in his way, her arms raised and her back to him.

“Barriers!” she called out.

Rylen felt the hum of magic surround him. Layers of barriers built one over the other, and he looked around to see the barrier shimmering around each person. A few seconds later, one of the mages nodded.

“Now!” one of the other mages shouted.

Two of the elemental mages raised their hands, and an ear-popping drop in air pressure followed by a burst of air nearly lifted them all off their feet. Aithlin pushed out with her hands, and debris blew out of the passage…

A roaring inferno flooded the stairway, enveloping them all in a barrage of heat and flames and smoke. Rylen felt the barriers around him weaken as flames buffeted against the magic, and shrieks of terror filled the stairwell. At least one elemental mage had kept their head, however, because rain suddenly descended upon them.

Rylen cursed aloud as the potentially fatal flaw in his plan became apparent when water hissed and exploded into billowing clouds of superheated steam. The entire group began coughing as the steam mixed with the noxious gases that had been trapped in the library.

“Everyone! On the floor!” Rylen bellowed through his own hacking. “Breathe through cloth if you can.”

He wasn’t sure if the mages could hear him over the thunder of fire and exploding water, but he dropped to the ground, unable to keep himself upright from the spasming in his lungs. If the mixture of steam, smoke and water hadn’t already rendered him blind, his own tears would have done so now.

“Quickly!” he rasped. “Move to the left!”

They crawled together into the wider space of the former library and then moved toward the tower’s outer wall. What had effectively become a steam storm still raged around them, each elemental mage casting at intervals to keep the thin layer of protection in place. The steam and smoke seemed to rise in the tall room, however, and Rylen moved to the front of the group as he wiped away the soot and tears blurring his vision.

“More barriers!” came a hoarse shout from the back - Aithlin he thought.

Rylen squinted into the mist and saw that the fire had indeed concentrated on the bookcases to their right, which left the way to the stairs relatively free. The heat and smoke from the fire, however, could kill them before they’d crawled the two hundred feet to freedom.

“Wall of ice to the right! Now!”

In response, a wall of ice rose up, and more hissing and popping and cracking filled their ears. The heat seemed to melt the ice almost as quickly as the mages could cast, but it afforded them a bit of relief from the flames as well as reprieve from the acrid air.

“Hold on to one another if you can!” he shouted. “And move quickly!”

Rylen felt a hand grasp his boot as he surged forward. The mages followed, casting when they could. A few moans of terror erupted each time the floor rumbled beneath them, and Rylen mentally calculated their odds of escaping the tower before it collapsed on them.

Not good.

Each breath became more difficult, his thoughts becoming hazy and detached. Each hand and knee forward became a rhythm of sheer determination even as his stomach lurched and threatened to empty then and there. A few times, the elemental mages ushered in a gust of fresher air, and he breathed in the sweet, relatively clear air with desperate inhalations. Each blast of air seemed to exacerbate the fire, however, so they stopped. They’d almost reached the stairwell when a desperate cry rose up from the back.

“Corinne has passed out! Someone help me!”

Rylen heard Aithlin take charge, her directions to the other mages ringing out behind him. Confident in the force mage’s ability to wrangle the others and get everyone to the stairway, he broke away from the group to assess the rest of the route. They’d been lucky that nothing had obstructed their path up to this point, and if tears weren’t already streaming down his face, he’d have cried with joy at the sight of a clear stairwell. The fire seemed to be pulling air up through the passage, and he breathed in with relish. He finally stood once more, though the smoke still wafted around them and burned his throat and eyes.

“Hurry now!” he croaked as loudly as his swollen throat would allow. “The stairway is just here!”

The mages rose from their hands and knees and ran by him swiftly now, each more desperate for fresh air than the last. Four mages brought up the rear, two of them dragging between them a mage he assumed was Corinne. Aithlin brought up the rear. She pulled a cloth from her mouth and jerked her head forward.

“That’s all of them! Go!”

Rylen shook his head. “You first!”

The elf had the audacity to roll her eyes at him, but she didn’t stop to argue. Rylen took one last look back to make sure they gotten everyone.

And that was his downfall.

The wooden beam fell without warning, crashing into his left side and pinning him to the floor in a matter of seconds. His armor offered some protection from the impact, but the red-hot coals clinging to the burning beam heated that same armor to excruciating levels.

A scream tore through Rylen’s raw throat as the steel burned into his skin. A noise to his left cut through the haze of pain, and he peered through bleary eyes to find Aithlin standing in the stairway.

“Get out you damn fool!” he yelled at her, though weakly.

“Without you?” she snapped back. “Not likely, Knight-Lieutenant.”

She’d already begun moving her hands, and with a lift and a shove of her arms, the beam lifted away from him and disappeared into the expanding black and orange inferno beyond. He tried to get up, but he felt drunk, the pain from before replaced with numbness.

“Lucky for your bulky templar ass, I know hauling spells.”

Rylen thought he might have laughed at this, but his brain had disconnected from his body, so he couldn’t really tell. He fell in and out of consciousness as she pulled him with her magic the last few feet to the stairs and then down and out into the cool night.

“More survivors!”

“Grab her!”

“Don’t let her escape! We’ve lost enough of them in the chaos as it is!”

“Is that the Knight-Lieutenant?”

“He’s injured - get him to the healers immediately!”

The last thing he remembered before falling into unconsciousness was the look of resignation in Aithlin’s eyes as two templars led her off into the night.

**

Three weeks later

“You’re lucky to be alive, Knight-Lieutenant. What were you thinking, risking your life like that? And for what? A few mages? You should have evacuated immediately with the rest of the Circle.”

An agitated Knight-Captain Randall paced from wall to wall in the small room that had become the infirmary in their makeshift “Circle” provided by the Chantry. Rylen watched from under hooded lids, trying to feign the exhaustion that, in the past, had served to rid him of this particular unwanted guest. This time, however, Randall didn’t seem to be falling for it.

Only a few people besides Rylen remained in the room as they recovered from injuries sustained in the fire - three of the mages he’d led out of the tower along with a few templars and mages closest to the fire when it had broken out in the library. Corbel, Galen, Nyrene and Remi had all made it out safely, thank the Maker, and came to visit him when their duties allowed. Remi had also made him some rather graphic promises of what she’d do to him if he’d only get better. 

The healers had done as much as they could for the burns extending from Rylen’s torso to his knee on the left side of his body, but they still didn’t know if he’d recover the use of his left leg. Too early to tell, they said.

But then again, Corinne hadn’t made it at all, so what did he have to complain about?

The familiar pang of regret hit him as he knew it would, and before he’d thought better of it, he sighed aloud. Randall stopped in his tracks.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Of course, Knight-Captain,” Rylen responded automatically in a rough voice.

His throat still burned if he tried to speak too much, which had come in handy during the other interrogations from the Knight-Commander and the Seekers who had arrived to investigate the fire. Rylen had told them as much as he could before descending into coughing fits. They’d left him alone after that.

What Rylen had yet to learn - what no one would bother to tell him - was what had happened to Aithlin. He’d made sure both the Knight-Commander and the Seekers knew of her leadership, bravery and self-sacrifice. Each time, they’d only look at one another and murmur some empty platitude.

“I’d be more apt to listen if you’d tell me what I want to know,” Rylen finally snapped.

He then opened his eyes wide, as did Randall. They blinked at one another for a moment before Rylen finally threw up his hands in defeat.

“Fuck it all! I’m sorry, Randall, but I need to know what has happened to Aithlin. I don'na need to be coddled like a wee child. Just tell me.”

Randall’s jaw clenched, his features contorting in fury. “That mage again! What do you care?”

“That mage saved my fucking life! I didn’t know her from a hole in the ground before she dragged my ass out of that blazing inferno, but she risked her life to get me out. She could’ve left me. Could’ve escaped with the others…”

Randall’s face had gone completely red, and he sputtered a few times before the words burst from his mouth like a viper’s venom. “She did escape, you damned fool! And she nearly killed two templars in the process! Yes, that’s right. All this time, you’ve been bending over backward to praise a filthy apostate, and we don’t even have her phylactery to find her. To find any of them!”

Randall’s chest heaved with the force of his emotion, and Rylen could only stare at the man, dumbstruck. He hadn’t expected her to remain with grace, of course. His brief moments with her had taught him not to expect that. But to harm templars while escaping… why then had she bothered to save him at all?

When Rylen didn’t respond to Randall’s tirade, the Knight-Captain finally took the hint and stalked out of the infirmary. Rylen could feel the gaze of every mage and templar in the room, but he adamantly focused on drilling a hole through his bed clothes with his eyes.

For the rest of the day, he went through the motions of recovery with the healers. His mind, however, reeled with the knowledge that the plucky mage had saved him… only to turn around and almost kill other templars a moment later.

Exhausted from the day’s events, Rylen finally fell into a fitful slumber shortly after the sun had gone down. He woke in the middle of the night to a vaguely familiar voice hissing at him from the darkness.

“Pssst! Wake up, you lazy ass!”

He shifted on the cot without thinking, and sucked in a sharp breath as a wave of pain crashed through him. A tsking sound erupted into the stillness of the night.

“Well, you’re still a mess, aren’t you?”

Finally, his brain caught up with his instincts. “Aithlin?” he whispered.

A dim mage light sparked to life a few feet from him, illuminating a swath of red hair and a rather cheeky grin. For an apostate on the run, he had to admit she looked rather well.

“What in the Void are you doing here?” he hissed at her. “Randall will give you the brand for sure if he catches you.”

“And whose fault is that?” she murmured back. “If you hadn’t waxed poetic about me to those Seekers, no one would have remembered I existed.”

Rylen ground his teeth as the ingrained urge to wake everyone and capture the apostate nearly won out over his sense of gratitude. He should call out. He should-

“Don’t even think about it, templar. I’d be out of here before you could shout 'apostate.’”

“Why are you here, then, lass? You’re taking a great risk.”

For the first time since she’d provided that tiny glow, her eyes flitted away from him, and her smile faltered. “Randall greatly exaggerated the tale of my escape, you know?”

“How did you-?” He stopped and shook his head. “Nevermind. I don’t think I want to know.”

Her eyes darted back to him at this and the grin returned. “You’re smarter than I gave you credit for, templar.”

“Sooo…” he drew out softly. “You’re risking your freedom to make sure I know your escape wasn’t as impressive as I was led to believe?”

She shrugged. “I just thought you should know I never meant to harm them. Not really. I only threw them far enough that they couldn’t silence me. That one of them hit their head on a rock and bled a little… well, I didn’t intend for that to happen. And they’re both fine, now, by the way.”

“You’re ridiculous, lass. You realize you’re close enough for me to silence you right now?”

“You won’t.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm-Hmmm.”

And she was right. He wouldn’t, though the main reason for that boiled down to the fact that he’d probably pass out if he tried. Their eyes met, and he held her gaze for a moment before raising his brows.

“Well. Thank you for telling me.”

She nodded without breaking eye contact, her grin widening. “Had to defend my honor to the soon-to-be Starkhaven Knight-Captain, didn’t I?”

Rylen’s brain stopped for a moment before racing ahead without him. He opened his mouth to speak, but she merely blew a kiss at him and extinguished her mage light.

“Aithlin?” he hissed into the sudden darkness. “Lass? Where’d you go?”

He waited in silence for any indication of her departure, but all remained still. Finally, he accepted that she’d found some way to enter and exit without a sound and settled back on his cot.

Sleep proved elusive, however, as Aithlin’s words echoed over and over in his mind late into the night. Rylen could only surmise that the Seekers’ investigation had revealed some sort of gross misconduct or abdication of duty within the Circle. Randall’s anger and attempts to shift blame certainly made far more sense if the man feared losing his position.

Rylen shifted uncomfortably on the narrow cot as he considered the possibility that they would actually make him Knight-Captain. Randall had always been a somewhat ineffectual leader, gaining his position through politics and family name rather than through ability. Rylen, though his surname gave him some leverage, had earned his promotion to Knight-Lieutenant through hard work, even overcoming a rather poor start with the Order to earn the position.

Knight-Captain Rylen. It did have a certain ring to it.

His final thought before falling asleep was that he’d have to get better at mage hunting if he were going to be a Knight-Captain.

#rylen appreciation week #rylenappreciationweek #dragon age #knight captain rylen #dragon age lore #dragon age headcanon #starkhaven #starkhaven circle fire #templars #mages and templars #mages #rylen appreciation week day 1 #knight-lieutenant rylen #revelations #revelation world state

[camille-marshall-blog]

Challenge #5

Alternately Titled: The Im-pasta-ble

a/n: Mabuhay, Ni hao, Hello! Another fic written during another hell week in school- please excuse the grammatical and formatting errors. Thanks to @nathaniel-schreave, @clove-teasdale, @eloiseduval, @victoria-seaberg, @ladyallegrahannon for the RP! Hope you guys enjoy!! (3180 words)

Life is like lasagna: it’s full of layers, cheesy, and a combination of magic and pasta.

A few days after the ball, my heart was pounding in my ears when Nate had gathered us to announce who’d be getting eliminated. I was nervous because of the fact that Nate and I had ended well that night- that whatever was there wasn’t supposed to be over yet, but even more terrified of this growing attachment and the feeling of wanting to stay.

Nate had announced the Elite, which even worsened everything. There was a sense of madness that could drive me up the wall because of how unlikely I was supposed to be here in the first place. Top 10. I wasn’t meant to make it this far, I have never planned to be this close.

Among the ten girls that were here, one of them was going to be my future sovereign. A part of me always knew that everyone here was practically queen material, and what continued to bug me was how everyone here would probably do a better job at it than I would. Whatever I’ve learned before, and everything I am now… well.. I don’t think anyone would appreciate what I could do.

After the initial shock of making it into the Elite had worn off, we later found out that we all were going on a series of group dates with Nate and we somehow had gotten divided into two groups. Theoretically, a group date sounded a bit out of the ordinary, but somehow… I’ve come to accept that behind these palace walls anything was possible. It didn’t sound too bad for Nate either, this probably helped him save time and still try to hang out with all of us. Good lord, the lengths that boy went to entertain all of us…

I was assigned to join the cooking group date, which didn’t seem like a bad idea- but what really sucked was that I wasn’t going to be with Vee.

Venus Minerva Vale always loved talking and entertaining. She’s the closest friend I have here, I’m pretty sure she had adopted me or something. She was always a beacon for everyone’s attention, which worked to my advantage whenever I was around her. She did most of the talking between us while I was the one who often listened and observed things. Now I’m being put in a position where I’d have to interact with a lot of people without Vee being my first line of defense.

I’ve always liked interacting with people one on one, the conversations were easier and I preferred giving my full and undivided attention to that person alone. Being put in a group always made me feel overwhelmed with everything I had to keep up with, all that information and goings-on flooded my senses to some points it got overwhelming. That’s always been my struggle with people I’m not comfortable with: the unfamiliarity of their territory, the fear of overstepping their limits.

I’m not very close with the four other girls in group my date, though I am familiar with most of them, you tend to learn a lot when you’re on the sidelines watching everything happen around you. Victoria was a fierce force on her own, and despite the rocky first impressions she had with Vee, they seemed to have patched it up. Eloise was the first Selected girl I had ever met at the beginning of the Selection, and we’ve shared a few conversations here and there like during my birthday- she was. Clove was clearly Eloise’s best friend and always appeared collected and possessed some kind of air of maturity that most 17 year olds didn’t have. Then there was Allegra, who I’ve never really seen around- but I haven’t heard anything bad about her… so surely she at least must be nice. 

The low levels of familiarity was reassuring in a way, but it still didn’t change the fact that I couldn’t rely on Vee this time. I promised myself a while ago that I had to stop being so conscious about being closed off from the people in this palace, and I knew that if I really wanted to enjoy my time here, I had to start putting myself a little more out there. I have Vee to thank for that… and well Nate too. Spending time with Nate had somehow made me feel more comfortable, most especially while I was around him. He had earned my trust during the ball, and his presence did seem to make me feel a little more relaxed.

Being nervous sucks, but when Nate had come along the hallway to meet up with us, things seemed to mellow things out for me.

“Hey, Sorry I was running a bit late. The meeting went a little over…” Nate declares, walking up to the group of us.

I nod in greeting, “Don’t sweat it.”

“Yeah, don’t want to ruin the suit.” Clove remarked in her usual humor, which made me turn to her and notice Eloise half hiding behind her.

“Thanks guys, let’s go in.” Nate chuckles us as we all walk into the kitchen.

Knowing that we were going to cook, I immediately start pulling my hair up and tie it into a quick bun.

“Marshall is ready for anything. What dish are we tackling today?” Clove comments before turning to Nate.

I click my tongue in response, “Just a force of habit.” It was, really. The way things were run in our mess hall kinda asked girls to tie their hair up while cooking back in my old military school.

Nate then quickly responds to Clove’s question, “Lasagna.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I acknowledge, internally trying to remember what were the steps for making lasagna.

“Marshall could you get the pasta cooked and stuff? Allegra you could help Marshall with that. And Victoria you could…” Nate pauses to think for a moment, “measure the cheese? And Clove and Eloise can you come with me to help cut some vegetables…?” Nate began to delegate the tasks, and everyone separates a bit to work on their tasks (of course washing their hands before they did anything).

Allegra and I move over to the stove, getting things ready while Victoria measured the cheese.

“So, what’s everyone’s favourite food?” Victoria asks.

“Mac and cheese.” Allegra hungrily groaned.

“Lasagna isn’t in too bad a spot on my list.” Clove replies from a separate island in the kitchen, while cutting vegetables with Nate and Eloise.

“It’s a tie between.. burritos… and…” I lower my voice a little as I turn the stove on and begin waiting for the water to boil, “s'mores.” S’mores were always amazing, the combination of graham, chocolate, and marshmallows was a masterpiece for the tastebuds.

“Oh! That’s a really good answer! s’mores are amazing!” Allegra comments, and I nod.

Victoria nods as well, “S'mores are the best. Lasangna and mac and cheese are also great picks.”

“I’m a fan of baby carrots.” Eloise then pipes up, for the first time since the beginning of this group date. Well, things have been kinda this way since Fleur’s birthday… an air of tension and awkwardness between Eloise and Nate… things were off, and it made me worry for the two of them.

“What are baby carrots? Are they like small carrots?” Victoria turns to Eloise, and I hear a chuckle at the comment or mention of baby carrots coming from Nate, so maybe things might have mellowed out between them, I’m not entirely sure.

Allegra laughs before giving us the 411 on baby carrots, “They’re just adult carrots that they’ve whittled down. Don’t ask me why I know that.”

“Ow.” I hear from behind me, and I turn to see Eloise pushing paper towels onto her hand. Goodness, she must have cut herself while chopping.

“Eloise… are you okay?” Nate asks before seeing the blood, and I notice a bit of confusion flash through his features, “Uhhh….”

“I’m fine, it’s fine. I’m just- I’m going to go get this taken care of.” Eloise says looking down on her hand.

“Is there a first aid kit?” Allegra inquires.

Eloise turns to Allegra, “No really, you guys just finish here and I’ll go to the hospital wing.”

“Are you sure? I know how to bandage wounds.” Allegra offers.

“Um Clove could you take Eloise to the hospital wing please.” Nate instructs, and Clove sets her knife down with a nod.

“Don’t need any more blood anywhere than necessary.” Eloise shakes her head before offering everyone a small smile and leaving with Clove.

“Okay.” Allegra nods, “I hope you feel better.”

“I’ll be fine, thank you.” Eloise smiles at Allegra before the remaining four of us watch them leave out of our sight.

“Hope she’s gonna be okay…” I remark, getting hurt from a cooking accident was no stranger to me (you could blame me trying to julienne carrots for that once). I take the pasta out of the box and start setting it into the pot, “So are we making the sauce from scratch?”

Nate nods, “Yeah. Do you want to do that?”

“Yeah, I can make the sauce.” I affirm while sprinkling a pinch of salt into the boiling pasta. Weird as it may seem, but adding the salt would add a little flavor to the pasta, infusing it with some flavor while it boiled and then adding a little bit of oil to seal that flavor into the pasta- thank god for the old lunch ladies who supervised us while we worked in mess. These little hacks worked wonders for us.  

“Allegra, could you take the pasta out of the water after 6 to 7 minutes?” I ask for Allegra to take over before moving over to the counter to start working on the sauce.

The four of us continue to converse while working on our assigned component. We talk about how our days have been, what we missed about Christmas, and few more other topics I didn’t really feel invested in. I focus a little more on working on the sauce. I crush a few cloves of garlic under the blade of a knife and cut it up before throwing it in a pot to sautee, then adding the tomato sauce to let it heat. While that had to simmer, I work on the ground beef- first making sure to sweat some chopped onions on a separate pan then adding the ground beef to let it cook. Hearing the little sizzle of the beef on the pan was always a nice little pleasure of cooking.

Before we knew it, Clove and Eloise were walking back into the kitchen.

“Uh hey, how’s the lasagna coming?” Eloise asks while I was transferring the tomato sauce into the sauce pan with the ground beef- the best way to keep the juices of the beef in the sauce was to mix it well with the tomato sauce.

“I’m just about done with the sauce. It… uh needs a little seasoning.” I reply, setting the used tomato pot in a sink and brisk walking back to my simmering mix of tomato sauce and ground beef.

“Do you need something specific?” Clove asks, peering over my shoulder.

“A bay leaf and some basil would do just the trick… I’ve got everything else I need here.” I nod, adding pinches of salt and pepper into the sauce.

Eloise steps up to my side, “Anything else I can help with?”

I take a moment to remember what else I was missing and realize that I had almost forgotten something.

“Hmm… maybe get a teaspoon of white sugar?” I glance down at Eloise’s hand, hoping to see it in better shape. “How’s your hand?”

“Oh, it’s not too bad. I’ll live,” Eloise holds her hand up, with a small smile. “But sure I can get that.” She walks over to the counter and gets a teaspoon of sugar before offering it to me.

“That’s good to hear,” I nod while I mixed the sauce a little more, “You can add the sugar to the sauce.”

“I’ll let you mix it in. Me and cooking don’t exactly go together.” Eloise laughs as she adds the sugar to the tomato sauce.

Clove watches us a little before getting the seasonings I asked for, “Yeah, you stay away from fire and sharp things.”

“I’d argue, but I’ve set off the smoke alarm at home too often.” Eloise replies.

“Yeah… I guess it’s safer for you to stay away for a while.” I snort, entertained by the two girl’s banter.

“We can let her be the one to taste things.” Clove suggests as she hands me the spices.

“I’m okay with that,” Eloise agrees as she leans against the counter and my eyes shift to check if nothing sharp was near her.

“Sure, let me just add the bay leaf and the basil in,” I sprinkle some of the basil and drop a bay leaf in to season the sauce, “and let it simmer for a minute or two… then we’re good with the sauce.”

“Did you cook stuff like this at your base?” Clove asks as I stirred the sauce. The sound of a baking pan hitting the counter makes me turn to see Nate starting to arrange the pasta on the pan.

“Well… uh… sometimes me and my squad did when we got tired of the food in the mess hall… but I kinda learned this while in military school. It was kinda a boarding school where everyone had to do chores and stuff- I typically got assigned to help in the mess hall.” I explain to Clove, I really did owe most of what I know thanks to all that time claiming to help in the mess hall and trying to avoid doing laundry duty- I did not want to handle a bunch of smelly socks and pit stained shirts.

“Nate, did you check if that pasta’s al dente?” I ask, hoping that Allegra got the pasta out on time. The noodles would still need to be baked, so if it was already fully cooked, it wouldn’t be firm enough to hold up a nice shape.

He holds up a piece up and wiggles it, “Looks good.”

The sight makes me want to laugh with just how silly it looked to wiggle the pasta, usually I’d just tear a piece off and check the texture.

“Alright, I’m trusting you about that…” I snort while getting a spoon for Eloise. “Here… Eloise ,” I scoop some of the sauce into the spoon.

“Try it now.”

Eloise takes the spoon and samples the sauce, and I get a little nervous- feeling like one of those contestants on Masterchef or something. I watch her eyes widen and I’m praying that I didn’t add too much salt, or if she didn’t like the way the sugar balanced out the acidity of the sauce. “That’s delicious. Working in the mess hall paid off.”

I look down with a laugh, happy that I didn’t mess this sauce up and feeling a little embarrassed by the compliment, “Thanks… It sure beat doing the laundry… “

“Well it’s safe to say this lasagna will turn out pretty great.” Eloise laughs along.

“I hope it does…” I comment, turning off the stove and bringing the pot near Nate, ready for layering.

“The cheese is done as well,” Victoria comes up to us bringing a bowl of cheese to us- I guess we weren’t making a cheese-based bechamel sauce.. regular cheese would do just fine I suppose.

“Thanks,” Nate says as the five of us watch Nate layer the lasagna.

“Wait… did we pre-heat the oven?” I ask, not exactly remembering pre-heating an oven.

Nate turns to the ovenm “I think we did,”

I hold my hand out to the front of the oven, feeling heat radiate off it, and sigh in relief. “Okay, I thought we almost forgot about that.”

“How do you think they came up with lasagna?” Clove asks, leaning against the counter.

“How did they come up with half the things that exist today?” Nate asks back.

“wow, deep question.” Victoria remarks on Nate’s question.

I hold back a laugh while trying to answer Clove’s question “Hmmm… maybe they got bored with plain spaghetti bolognese and wanted something a little different…”

“You guys are making my brain hurt,” Allegra laughs.

“I mean, maybe it was an accident as were a lot of stuff.” Clove reasons out.

Eloise shrugs, “Someone probably just wanted the ultimate pasta dish.”

“Or spaghetti flavored cake” I mumble, noting the similarities of the way lasagna was made compared to a regular cake.

“That too.” A laugh comes from Eloise

“I like that possibility.” Clove smirks as Nate places the finishing touches on the lasagna before setting it into the oven.

The six of us spend the rest of the day conversing, sometimes asking each other the weirdest of questions that rivaled Clove’s origin of pasta question, and I’m finding myself feeling a little more comfortable with the rest of the girls on this date.

#selectionoc #ch marshall #marshall fics #nate tag #eloise tag #clove tag #victoria tag #allegra tag #selected tag #challenges #writings #I WROTE THIS THIS MORNING BWAHAHAHAHAAH #I died this week #trust me #guess who didn't sleep just to write this LOOOOOL