#34 layers later

[the-forest-sys]

Yhs!Sam made by a Sam fictive

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me - Chapter Eight: We'll Dance in the Street like Nobody's Watching

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 3.8k

Chapter Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, unprotected p in v, flirting, dads being dads. Two idiots falling in love and finally fucking admitting it. Joel is his own warning. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad and Joel uses various terms of endearment (darlin', sweetheart, etc.).

This chapter includes the scene that sparked the entire story idea. I've been patiently waiting for it to see the light of day. hope you enjoy!

Thank you so much to everyone who reads this self-indulgent story and extra thanks to those who comment and/or reblog - you all make me feel like a rock star!

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Chapter Seven | Main Masterlist

“So, how was it?” Grilling you for the past twenty minutes, Emily was relentless in her pursuit to find out just how good Joel was in bed, after congratulating you on the new job, of course. “Come on! I need to know!”

“Alright, alright! I had no idea you were such a needy bitch. Is your hubby not dicking you down enough or what?” you laughed before regaling her with tales of Joel’s prowess.

“I fuckin’ knew he’d be big and know how to use it! He just gives off that BDE, ya know what I mean? Just how big are we talkin’, anyway?”

Rolling your eyes, you laughed again. “Well, I didn’t fucking measure it, but it’s a definite handful. Besides, you’ve never even met him, Em! How could you possibly get that vibe?”

“I’ve seen photos and heard stories, that’s more than enough to pick up on that sorta thing,” Emily replied with the confidence of someone who damn well knows what she’s talking about. “I need to know more. Gimme all the details!”

“Yeah, yeah. Speaking of BDE, I gotta finish getting ready. Joel said he had something special planned for tonight to celebrate me getting the teaching job.”

“I bet he does. You’re gonna get another deep dicking from that huge—”

“Bye Em!” you cut her off and hit end call before she could carry on anymore.

Tossing the phone on your bed, you finished putting a light layer of makeup on, putting in a little more effort to look good tonight. Ten minutes later, dressed in a pair of dark, fitted jeans and a dark blue, long-sleeve, vee neck shirt that showed just a touch of cleavage, you wandered out to the living room.

“Alright Dad, I’m off. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Leaning over the back of his recliner, you press a kiss to his balding head.

“Have fun on your date and be careful, Spud. Call me if you need a ride home or anything,” he replied, patting your hand. You turned to leave, grabbing a light jacket from the hook by the door just in case, when your dad’s voice carried from the living room. “It’s funny, Joel told me he has a date tonight, too.”

Freezing for a moment, you squeak, “Oh, yeah?”

“Uh huh. Quite a coincidence me thinks.” He paused again, but you were at a loss for words and grateful that he couldn’t see your expression. “Enjoy your night, kiddo.”

Knowing a dismissal when you heard one, you take off through the door. Your mind raced on the short drive to Joel’s. He knows. Your dad so knows. You start to panic for a moment wondering if he’s upset before the realization hits that he didn’t seem remotely mad about it. More like he got a kick out of the idea and enjoyed teasing you. You and Joel had to fess up very soon, but that was a tomorrow problem. Tonight was meant to be all about you and Joel.

Walking through the front door, you expected to find Joel in the living room or kitchen, but the downstairs was empty. Lugging your overnight bag up the stairs, you thought maybe he’d be in his room or the bathroom still getting ready, but again, no sign of him. Where the hell was he?

Making your way down the stairs, you peeked out the window to make sure you didn’t imagine his truck in the driveway when you parked – it was there, right next to your car. He had to be around here somewhere. The sound of soft music hit your ears suddenly. Following the sound, you slipped out the back door and gasped.

A soft glow spread across the yard from lights strung from tree to tree, a plaid tablecloth covered the patio table on which sat a vase of brightly colored tulips, an open bottle of pinot noir, two stemless wine glasses, and two covered plates. Just beyond the patio, a hammock hung between two large live oaks with another set of string lights dangling above it. As your eyes took it all in, Joel stood off to the side watching you with a warm smile.

“Joel,” you whispered, afraid to disturb the dream-like quality of the moment, his name a drawn-out breath in the air when you finally turned to him. His dark eyes glinted from the string lights as he stepped forward out of the shadows, one hand stretched out towards you. There was no hesitation in reaching for him and you clung to each other for a few minutes before he stepped back to pull out a chair for you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, settling into the seat. When Joel took his place across the table from you, you added, “This is so lovely, Joel.”

A bashful smile graced his lips as he removed the covers from the plates and filled the wine glasses. Your gaze soaked in every little movement he made, in awe of the gorgeous man before you and all he’d done to make this evening special. Holding his glass up, he toasted to you. “Here’s to your new job and the start of a very rewarding career. Congrats darlin’.”

Clinking your glass against his lightly, you beamed at him. He looked so handsome, thick curls pushed back away from his face, tanned skin glowing in the soft lighting. “Thank you, Joel.” Already buzzing from the way he made you feel, you sipped lightly at the wine before digging into the meal before you.

Bursts of flavor hit your palette at the first bite, the chicken cooked to perfection and the sun-dried tomatoes adding just the right tang to the red pesto coating the rigatoni. A soft moan escaped before you caught it, cheeks heating up with the way Joel looked at you with hooded eyes.

“I reckon you like it?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his gravelly voice.

“This may be the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted, Joel. Did you make this?” You took another bite, savoring the flavors that exploded in your mouth.

“Mmhmm. It’s my mama’s recipe, she made it a lot when we were younger, and it’s always been my favorite. I’m glad you like it.” He watched you enjoy another forkful, obviously proud.

“I don’t just like it, Joel. This is fuckin’ delicious. I didn’t know you could cook like this!”

His cheeks turned pink as he cleared his throat. “I can’t, usually. I practiced a lot with this one.” That melted your heart further.

You ate your fill, making small conversation between bites, until your wine glass was empty, and your belly satisfied. Joel poured you another glass, which you sipped leisurely as he cleared the table and placed the dirty dishes in the dishwasher for later. He wouldn’t let you lift a finger.

“Dance with me?” he said upon his return outside, voice deep and gravelly as he plucked the glass from your hand and placed it on the table.

“I’d love to,” you replied softly, lips tilted upwards in a sweet smile. Holding his left hand out, Joel helped you to your feet and let you off the patio.

A new song began, volume a little louder now, and you stepped closer to him. A warm buzz spread through your veins when Joel pulled you against his broad chest, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other bent to hold your hand over his heart. You could feel the thump of his heartbeat beneath the green flannel he wore as he swayed you slowly around the grassy yard, careful to not stray too close to the pool.

Nothing ever felt as right as being there in Joel’s arms, dancing in the yard like the world beyond the fence didn’t exist. Your feelings for this man were overwhelming, growing deeper each and every day – hell, each and every second was more like it – and that four-letter word bubbled in your throat. You swallowed it down, settling your head against Joel’s shoulder, eyes closed and focused on the moment.

Joel’s chin tilted downward, nudging against the side of your face, his lips near your ear, and his breath sent delightful chills down your spine when he began to sing softly.

“Fall into me and I’ll catch you, darlin’. We’ll dance in the street like nobody’s watching. It’s just you and me and the song on repeat in my head, playing over and over…”

My god, how could you not fall in love with this incredible man?

The intimacy of it all brought tears to your eyes as your fingers threaded through the hair at the back of his head. Stomach alight with the flutter of too many butterflies, the urge to speak from your heart became too much, you could hold back no longer.

“I love you, Joel.”

You loved him.

What did he ever do to deserve something like that?

Heart clenching deep in his chest, Joel guided you to the hammock, music still carrying softly through the air. With amazing finesse, he settled you both on the hanging fabric, bodies snuggled together until you nearly became one.

He ached to say the words back to you, but they kept getting stuck in his throat. Instead, he settled for showing you how he felt, just like he did with dancing and singing in your ear – he could have written that song for how relatable it was to the feelings you brought out in him. Dark eyes stared into yours as his hands moved over your body, pulling you impossibly closer.

I love you, his lips said as they pressed heatedly against yours.

I love you, his tongue said as it licked softly into your mouth to tangle delicously with yours.

I love you, his hands said as they touched you with utter reverence.

I love you, his body said as he pressed it tightly against yours, trying in vain to crawl beneath your skin.

Joel kissed you with singular focus until you were both breathless and overwrought with need.

“Take me to bed, Joel,” you whispered when he finally tore his lips from yours. “I need to feel every bit of you.”

Your angelic voice music to his ears, he scrambled from the hammock, scooping you up in his muscled arms to carry you inside and up to his bedroom. His mind occupied by one thing and one thing only – making love to you until you knew every part of him and he knew every part of you – the string lights and last bit of wine were left forgotten in the yard.

Loving the way you clung to him, Joel swept through the house and up the stairs with an urgency he’d not felt before.

His lips moved to brush down your neck, nipping at the tender skin as he went. Once in his room, he closed the door even though you were the only two there. Joel kissed each new patch of skin bared as he removed your clothes until you were completely naked. Easing you back onto his unmade bed, a low growl rumbled from deep in his chest when your fingers slid along his scalp and tugged on his hair. Fucking lord did he love how you touched him.

“Fuck, I need to taste you, pretty girl.”

He’d never seen anyone or anything more beautiful in his life as your naked body writhed on his bed, eager and yearning for his touch, and Joel knelt to worship at the altar of you.

Starting at your delicate feet, Joel’s fingertips traced every inch of you until he reached the apex of your thighs. Leaning forward, he let the scruff of his facial hair tickle along the flesh of your inner thighs, pressing open-mouth kisses along the soft skin as he went. Grinning as you trembled, he met your wide gaze as he leant forward, tongue exploring your folds.

The first taste of you set his soul on fire. Sweet like honey yet more addicting and thrice as satisfying, Joel licked at your clit, tongue occasionally dipping down into you, slurping greedily at the very essence of you.

He couldn’t have thought of a more delicious dessert.

His movements elicited sensuous moans that shot straight to his cock, his jeans quickly becoming too tight and uncomfortable. Seeking a little relief, his hips began grinding against the mattress as he brought you closer and closer to the edge, fingers soon assisting his tongue in driving you mad. Just when he thought he might blow his load in his jeans, again, you came, crying his name out, the syllables drawing out in a beautiful, lyrical drawl. Working you through it, Joel drank down every bit of your release like a thirsty man in the desert.

“Fuck, darlin’. You taste fuckin’ delicious. I could live here, between your legs, for the rest of my life, surviving on just you.” Joel stood as he spoke, gazing down at your blissed out form on his bed as he tore off his clothes, one large hand palming his cock before he practically dove into bed with you.

“You’re too good at that, Joel Miller,” you said, the words falling lazily from your lips as you recovered from the singularly intense orgasm. Swooping down, Joel kissed you passionately, offering you a taste of yourself lingering on his tongue.

Letting his body continue to do the communicating for him, Joel shifted his hips, grinding gently against you while his mouth devoured yours. Groaning as your nails scratched down his back, he reached a hand down to guide his cock toward its home in your pussy. Dark eyes opened wide, Joel watched your face as he entered you, delighting in the scrunch of your nose and the way your eyes squeezed shut before popping open again at the sensation of him splitting you open.

With long, slow, oh so deep, strokes, Joel made love to you, telegraphing the depth of his feelings in the only way he knew how, until you were writhing in pleasure beneath him. Afterwards, he cleaned the mess between your thighs and held you close until you fell asleep with your head resting on his chest. Only then, did he finally whisper the words he longed to say all night. “I love you, too.”

Joel stayed awake for a while, listening to your gentle snores and the soft sighs you made in your sleep. He loved that you let your guard down with him, that he was the man who got to hold you while you slept. In the darkness of night, Joel made himself a promise that he would not fuck this up before falling into a deep sleep of his own.

His dreams were particularly vivid, the sensation of your mouth around his cock so strong he’d swear it was real. He’d never experienced your mouth around him like that before, though, so it couldn’t be real. Joel let his dream-self enjoy every moment, your lips around his shaft and tongue teasing the throbbing vein along the underside of his cock a divinity he’d never known before. At one point you took him so deep that a loud, guttural moan escaped his lips, hands clenching in your hair.

Eyes popping open, the moan carried on, rumbling from deep within Joel’s chest as he glanced down to find you feasting on his hardened length. It wasn’t a dream after all.

“Fuuuccckkk,” his voice, still rough with sleep, drew out the word as he watched you go down on him. Your mouth a form of heaven he suffered too long without, the cheeky, mischievous look in your eye making the pleasure more intense. You clearly enjoyed the act nearly as much as he did.

It didn’t take long before your wanton rhythm and sinful mouth had him coming down your throat, your name a prayer recited over and over in that gravelly voice. “Jesus fucking Christ, darlin’. Where’d you learn to suck cock like that, hmm? Your mouth is like God damn heaven.”

Joel’s chest heaved as you gulped down every drop of his spend, tongue darting out to lick the last bit from the little slit on his cockhead before sliding over your lips. You visibly swallowed, savoring the taste of him; his eyes glued to your mouth the whole time. His hand came up, caressing your face with the love he couldn’t yet voice shining brightly in his eyes, and his thumb traced along your plump bottom lip.

“My little gummy worm,” he murmured, delirious from coming so hard. “Felt so good wrapped around my fat cock.”

Crawling up his body, you settled your weight atop him and pressed your lips to his, letting him taste a hint of himself on your tongue as licked into his mouth, returning the favor from the night before. The kiss was languid and sloppy, perfect for a lazy morning waking up together.

“You tasted good, all salty and musky,” you said once you broke away, voice raspy from having his dick halfway down your throat.

“You can wake me up like that any time you’d like, darlin’.”

The two of you cuddled for a while, neither of you too eager to start the day knowing you didn’t have anything pressing to do. Those unspoken words bubbled in Joel’s chest the whole time, begging to come to the surface, to be spoken aloud and given credence. Still, he hesitated without quite knowing why. Finally rolling out of bed around 10, you jumped into the shower while Joel threw on some clothes and ran out to grab some breakfast.

He just pulled back into his driveway, a bag with a few bagel breakfast sandwiches in one hand – he got an extra in case you wanted pork roll instead of bacon – a coffee and orange juice clutched in the other, when JB’s truck pulled up in front of his house.

Settled on the couch after your refreshing shower, legs tucked under you while scrolling through your phone, you heard Joel’s truck pull up. Waiting for him to come in with breakfast for you both, you were caught off guard by the deep voices rumbling in the front yard. You sat up, peeking through the blinds to find your dad out front, hands on his hips as he spoke to Joel.

Oh shit.

You couldn’t discern their facial expressions from that angle and moved to the front door, quietly easing the heavy wood open to peek out and eavesdrop. They had to be talking about you, right? There was no hiding or pretending you weren’t here, especially with your car parked in the driveway right next to Joel’s. After your dad’s comments last night, you wondered if he planned this ambush then.

“I knew she’d be here,” you heard your dad say, but you couldn’t read his body language clearly. His hands were on his hips still, but there was a smile on his face. “You sweet on my baby girl, Joel?”

You couldn’t hear Joel’s response, his gravelly voice pitched too low for your ears to catch across the distance, but you could see him smile hesitantly even as his broad shoulders hunched slightly. Whatever it was caused your dad to chuckle and punch Joel playfully.

“I knew it!” your dad exclaimed, the sudden loudness startling you. “I knew you two would hit it off, I just wasn’t sure how long it’d take.”

You caught Joel’s response this time, his surprised voice pitching upwards. “You’re not upset?”

Walking toward the house without invitation, your dad paused. “Why the hell would I be upset? You’re a good man, Joel, and I know you’ll treat her well. And she’ll be good for you, too, I have no doubt. Now, you got enough in that there bag for breakfast for three?”

Your shoulders sagged with relief as you eased the door open. “I thought I heard voices! Hi Dad,” you greeted. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey Spud. I could ask you the same thing, but I knew I’d find you here.” Pulling you in for a hug, he ushered you inside. “I got tired of waiting for you two to come clean and thought I’d put you both on the spot.”

Eyebrows shooting up, you glanced at Joel before meeting your dad’s gaze again. “How did you know?”

Giving you a shrug, he said, “You two weren’t exactly subtle and a father always knows.” Nudging your shoulder, JB turned to Joel. “You’ll find that out soon enough, my friend. I can’t wait for the trouble that Sarah will give you.”

The three of you sat at the small dining table, digging into the breakfast sandwiches, your dad insisting you tell him how long you and Joel had been seeing each other and how it all started. Relieved to finally have the truth out there, you told him the story and JB chuckled.

“That about tracks. That’s right around when I started to notice something different between the two of you. And it sure explains why you hardly gave Annica the time of day on your date.” JB gave Joel grief about that failed date for weeks knowing that there was something – or someone – else drawing the man’s attention. JB had the feeling back then that it was you, his baby girl, his grown-up Spud, who captured the single father’s attention.

“You sure you’re okay with this, Dad? I mean…” your words fell off, not really knowing what to say. You’d be heartbroken if your dad wasn’t okay with a relationship between you and Joel, especially now that you verbally admitted to being in love with him.

“Are you kidding? I’m happy as a pig in shit that the two people I care about most like each other.” Your dad was all smiles, beady eyes sparkling with mischief. “In fact, I was planning on setting the two of you up if you didn’t figure things out for yourselves first. Tommy was in on the plan, too, and was the one who suggested we give it a little time. Little shit never told me it became official, though.”

Sitting back in your seat, you giggled with relief. All that time spent fretting over what your dad might think, feeling guilty for dating his best friend and hiding it from him for so long. It was all for naught. You should have known he’d love the idea of you two together.

“So, when’s the wedding?” JB asked, a shit-eating grin spread across his lips as you and Joel froze, eyes darting to each other in wide-eyed panic. Your dad practically guffawed at his own humor while you two were practically having a panic attack. “I’m just kidding – there’s no rush. Just make sure you treat her right, Joel.”

Recovering from the initial panic – not that he didn’t want to marry you, eventually, just not quite this soon – Joel laughed a little nervously. “Of course, JB. I’ll always treat her right. I, uh… I love her.” His gaze shifted to you, heart showing firmly in those dark chocolate orbs. “I love you, darlin'.”

tbc

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[mirtola87]

I feel like the first "I forgive you" and the second "I forgive you" are different "I-forgive-yous" (or maybe not)

What else "I forgive you" may mean (one year later) — Good Omens Season 1 and 2 parallel

Ok, I know I'm 1 year late to the party and I don't know if this has already been pointed out, but it came across my mind like a lightning this morning, and now I just can't stop thinking about it. We know there are lots of parallel scenes through GO Season 1 and 2, and that we have two "I forgive you" moments. The first "I forgive you" makes utterly sense: Crowley just offended Aziraphale, and he replies with "I forgive you" (despite the demon had said just a few scenes before "Unforgivable is what I am").

The "I forgive you" in S2 left us all stuck in despair, trying to figure out why Aziraphale would have to say that just after their 6000-year-long awaited kiss.

First of all, I want to make clear that I believe this answer is totally in-character: I forgive you for kissing me while leaving me on my own when I most needed you, I forgive you for not believing that we can make a difference together, I forgive you because you are not unforgivable and I'm not giving up on you, I forgive you because forgiveness is love, it's a gift—"forgive" literally translates the Latin verb "perdonare" (per=for + donare=give) and also means "to give without conditions"... and the list goes on and on. I recommend this @sendarya's analysis which I found really accurate and on point, check it out if you haven't already: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NOvv0GkMBA8&t=34s

Nevertheless, there may be a second layer of meaning. Let's go back to S1 for a moment. Aziraphale finds the Antichrist, but he chooses not to tell Crowley during the bandstand scene: he wants to sort it out on his own. Later, when Crowley comes to the bookshop to apologize, he just tells him that he wants to talk to God to thwart Apocalypse, which triggers Crowley's "You're so clever! How can someone as clever as you be so stupid?". So let's recap what happens: 1) Aziraphale knows something he isn't telling Crowley and has a plan; 2) Crowley offers Aziraphale to go off together, but Aziraphale refuses because he wants to save Earth; 3) Crowley offends Aziraphale: "How can someone as clever as you be so stupid?"; 4) Aziraphale says "I forgive you"; 5) Crowley leaves (let alone calling Aziraphale again 5 minutes later).

Later, after discorporating and failing in his attempt to reach God, Aziraphale realizes that the only way to thwart Apocalypse is "our side", so he appears to a drunk and devastated Crowley to reveal him that the Antichrist is in Tadfield, and they arrange to meet there. We may assume that, after the Armageddon't, they talked of what happened, and Aziraphale may have told Crowley that he already knew where the boy was during the bandstand meeting; anyway, Crowley saw Aziraphale acting mysteriously and keeping his secrets: he said he wanted to talk with God to sort things out, but nothing more. Crowley knew that there was something his angel wasn't telling him, and that he had a plan. Now let's see what happens in S2: 1) Aziraphale knows something he isn't telling Crowley (he doesn't reveal Metatron's threats) and (hopefully) has a plan; 2) Crowley offers Aziraphale to go off together, but Aziraphale refuses because he wants to "make a difference"; 3) Crowley hurts Aziraphale: "No Nightingales. You idiot. We could have been us" (+ bonus, devastating kiss); 4) Aziraphale says "I forgive you"; 5) Crowley leaves the bookshop... but he just waits across the street, until Aziraphale takes the lift with the Metatron.

Ok, nice parallel so far. But what am I trying to say with that? I think that perhaps—just as "Trust me"—"I forgive you" may have come to acquire a second, coded meaning: "There's something I'm not telling you, but I have a plan". One more, desperate attempt of our angel to tell something to his demon without anyone else noticing, as he knows that the Metatron is watching. Crowley waiting by the Bentley is a way to show his angel he's not giving up on him, but maybe also to let him know he got his message.

So, do what you want with this, now I can go on with my day despite the brainrot (maybe).

[lehguru]

RUGBY + GENSHIN IMPACT MEN

how i think genshin men would be like if they were rugby players ft. alhaitham, itto, diluc, wriothesley

info: this is mostly superficial (i won't be talking about positions and things like that), im way too passionate abt this it's basically a non-stop ramble, will do deeper dives into all the regions + more characters later; mentions of physical injuries and things like that – not proofread as always!! (maybe romantic hcs coming later too??)

alhaitham is the brain behind it all. rugby might be a sport that is, for the most part, physical and the biggest men win, but alhaitham makes the impossible, possible. the amount of try's this man have on his career is unmatchable; somehow, he always knows how to bring his team to the try zone and score them those sweet five points. his turquoise eyes are sharp and his quick reactions are even sharper, he can see the best plays in a fraction of a second. even if he isn't one of the biggest in the leg department, he definitely have stronger shoulders and arms than a normal player, giving his tall build a really triangular shape (his shoulders make his tackles a lot more amazing too). not the type to brag or boast about his accomplishments, a low-profile man that usually just appears in the team's official social medias or during matches.

arataki itto is one of the most unique players in the rugby world. he possesses such talent for the sport, he would be quickly recognized as one of the best of his generation – and granted the title of 'oni' ('beefcake' for people closer to him). the only problem was, he often got himself some yellow cards and even red cards; the reasons ranged from foul play to straight up almost starting fights with his opponents or even the referee themselves. whenever he had to wait for the decisions on his yellow cards, he would sit on the side with the biggest and cutest pout on his face. if he is in game, he's a absolute behemoth of a player; his tackles are simply the strongest you could ever get hit by – and there's no 'if' he will tackle you, he will tackle you –, teams often have to make a strategy to hold him down for as long as they can. his muscles are well proportional all over his body, what do i mean by that? as a big man, he have bigger muscles everywhere (every week a new picture of his glutes go viral). not the brightest man on the field, but he is okay with just being the one holding back any attackers or being a battering ram for his team. hates having to kick the ball more than anything, rather have one of his teeth broken (again).

diluc is a exemplary leader. he might not be like alhaitham and have strategies for everything and anything, but diluc brings more physical prowess into the game. he's often seen starting plays by himself, but he doesn't mind to help other people on his team when they have the ball. he might be physically strong, but his forte is his mind; after a lot of work, he managed to be able to stay calm even in the worst situations – one of his craziest games was when he managed to turn a 34-3 difference into a win. in the beginning of his career, his long hair used to get into his way – even in a ponytail –, so he started to braid it and it became part of his image. somehow, he never got a single yellow or red card on his career and the amount of offenses he commited are abnormally low too. he have a strong neck and torso, but he's overall very muscular and he have a healthy layer of fat (yes. im saying he have a little tummy). everyone, from his teammates to opponents, compliment his behavior and actions; even if he needs to tackle and stop people, he is still very polite and he always make sure to help them to get up and make sure they are okay if someone needs to b tended by a medic.

wriothesley is a lot like itto in the physical sense. he's shorter than itto, but he is equally muscular. he have veiny hands and arms; if he didn't play often, his body would be hairy, but he shaves his legs and arms every time he have a match (he trimms his chest hair and his lower abdomen hair too). he have all the characteristics to be the leader of his team, but he settles for being a battering ram so the other less strong players can shine too. he is able to hold two to three men on his own, often being able to run even if they try to bring him down or hold him. wrio is the type of guy whose weaknesses are almost non-existent, but he never brags about being a good player; he said more than once: "'m just doing what I'm supposed to. i don't know how i manage to be good at it too". out of everyone in this list, he's probably the one that got more injuries during his career. his knees are never fully okay, but he somehow still manages to be at his top form all the time. he is often seen with elbow and knee protections even off-games. (don't try to tell him to rest, he won’t listen and just brush it off with a teasing comment and a smirk)

2023 © content belongs to lehguru, but the characters used in them belong to their respective creators!!

[rabnerd28]

Chronicling the Cats Broadway Revival Lifts

Hey, you know how we joke that you could make a drinking game out of all the lifts that they do in the Broadway Revival? Don’t do it. You will die of alcohol poisoning before the Jellicle Ball.

4:54 Electra, Victoria and Tantomile are all lifted during the "Heaviside Layer" line of Jellicle Songs for Jellicles Cats (3)

9:20 Electra and Tantomile during Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats. (2)

9:28 Not a lift, but Tanto, Victoria and Electra are swung forward across the floor. Doesn’t count but I’m marking vaguely lifting actions.

14:41 Sillabub is lifted in the background at the start of Invitation. There might be more cats being lifted but my bootleg is mostly focused on the main cats for each number. (1)

14:50 Not even a full 10 seconds later, Sillabub and another cat (I think it’s Tantomile) are lifted again. (2)

18:45 Coricopat and Skimbleshanks lift Jenny so that a ball can go under her (1)

19:39 Bomba and Demeter grab Jenny and slide her across the large sports balls. (Side note: I really fucking hate the balls. Why are they in this number???)

23:28 Tumble and Plato lift Victoria and Tugger walks under her. (1)

22:36 Rumpleteazer, Demeter and Victoria are all lifted (3)

23:40 Victoria and Tanto are flung forward and then flung back.

24:05 Electra, Tantomile, Victoria and Rumpleteazer are held on at their armpits as they drop so that they would be flat on their faces if their partners weren’t holding them, followed by said partners lifting them off the ground and spinning them. I’m counting it. (4)

24:32 Tantomile and Victoria are spun on the ground and then lifted by cats right after. (2)

26:08 Sillabub, Victoria and Electra are mid cartwheel when their partners (Mungojerrie, Plato and Pouncival (?)) grab them and slow them down. Tantomile is then lifted by Coricopat. (1)

All lift adjacent behaviors are forgiven for Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer. What’s not forgiven is how literal the choreography is.

39:25 We went almost a full fifteen minutes. Coricopat lifts Tantomile when they first sense Old Deuteronomy. (1)

39:34 Once again, Tanto is lifted by Cori. (1)

40:14 Tanto climbs on Cori’s back and Victoria climbs on Plato’s and they are lifted. (2)

43:15 Victoria is lifted by Alonzo, Tanto is lifted by Cori (?). (2)

45:07 Mungojerrie lifts Rumpleteazer onto the stage, same for Cori and Tanto. They then lift them both again to go behind Old Deuteronomy. Followed by another lift after those. (6)

45:22 Munkustrap carries Victoria out to the front of the stage, then hand her to Plato, who lifts her, alongside Sillabub being lifted by Tumble (3)

46:23 Tumble lifts Sillabub (1)

46:40 Victoria, Electra and Tanto are all lifted by multiple cats. (3)

47:06 Several cats are supported during their arabesques

48:20 Teazer, Tanto, Sillabub and Victoria are all lifted, followed by Victoria being lifted a second time (5)

49:40 Electra, Demeter, Victoria, Tanto and Teazer are all lifted pretty much upside down (5)

50:18 Plato picks up Victoria for a little run lift thing, followed by carrying her as she does a cartwheel. (2)

50:29 Tanto, Teazer, Sillabub, Bombalurina (her first lift) and Victoria are lifted. Everyone but Vicky gets lifted a second time. (9)

51:33 Vicky gets lifted twice for the Pas de Deux (2)

52:58 Tanto is lifted (1)

54:16 Sillabub and Electra are both lifted twice (4)

55:16 Tanto and Tori are lifted…twice in a row (4)

55:50 Tanto, Tori, Teazer and Sillabub (4)

56:09 Tori, Tanto, Sillabub (3)

56:23 You know, Victoria’s big lift would be really impressive if we didn’t just see 100 of them before it (1)

I’m surprised they didn’t work a lift into Memory

At intermission we have 79 lifts…I am loosing my goddamn mind. I am actively crying from how funny this is.

1:36:48 Victoria and Electra were flung forward

1:49:25 Victoria is lifted. I thought we were going to make it through the whole second act without one, but nope. (1)

We end with a total of 80 lifts.

[beyourselfchulanmaria]

Arvo Part - Spiegel Im Spiegel

Violin: Stelios Chatziiosifidis Cello: Caroline Szram Piano: Alex Szram

Arvo Pärt : Spiegel im Spiegel (Full Album)

These days Estonian composer Arvo Pärt is mainly associated with his later works. Born in 1935 he wrote ‘avant-garde’ works at first. In the nineteen seventies he increasingly found his inspiration in medieval religious music, both western and eastern European. This first transpired in his Für Alina for piano. It already has the telling low tempo and (two) layers. Pärt further extended his so-called tintinnabuli (i.e. bells) style in small-scale pieces like the different versions of Spiegel im Spiegel and Variationen zur Gesundung von Arinuschka. Although this last piece has ‘classical’ features as well.

00:00:00 Spiegel im Spiegel, for violin & piano 00:10:22 Variationen zur Gesundung von Arinuschka, for piano solo 00:15:58 Für Alina, for piano solo 00:19:29 Spiegel im Spiegel, for viola & piano 00:29:34 Mozart-Adagio, for violin, cello & piano 00:37:20 Spiegel im Spiegel, for cello & piano

Artist: Benjamin Hudson (viola) Sebastian Klinger (cello) Jürgen Kruse (piano)

[snowdice]

Big Bang Editing Story [Day 122]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story years ago, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag ‘proofread stories.’ I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42 Part 43 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47 Part 48 Part 49 Part 50 Part 51 Part 52 Part 53 Part 54

Not going to do much this morning because I only have an hour or so. I may do more later today however.

Chapter 55 (Logan)

Virgil was beginning to be able to read some of the common instructions in magic books, but Logan still made sure to read out the instructions to him at least twice before setting him loose. He’d started to jot down notes to himself about things, though these notes were not words, but various symbols that only made sense to the boy himself.

Logan had asked about their meaning at one point and received an answer that, while earnest, was unintelligible. The symbols were mostly just pictures of things to represent certain steps in spell casting, but they were filtered through Virgil’s rudimentary penmanship and often bizarre perception of the world.

Though, despite the fact that Logan could not often decipher his chicken scratch, it did seem to help him produce more and more quality charms even as Logan began to introduce more complicated processes to make them. He was a very good student even if he didn’t have the best foundation for learning.

“I add lavender for the next step, right?” Virgil asked, his finger on a word in Logan’s magic book.

“That is correct,” Logan confirmed.

Virgil looked back at the book and mouthed the word ‘lavender’ to himself before turning back to his potion. He grabbed a few sprigs of lavender and threw them into the cauldron.

The liquid popped and bubbled violently, but Virgil didn’t flinch as he once would have, prepared for it now.

After the lavender, Logan knew that it would have to simmer for 5 minutes. Virgil looked down at the boiling liquid, contemplating it for a long moment.

“Can I soak a knife in it?” he asked.

“What?” Logan asked.

“Can I soak a knife in the potion once it’s done?”

“In that potion?” Logan clarified. “In the emergency hand warmer potion?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I think a hot knife would be useful,” Virgil said.

“For what?”

Virgil shrugged. “Cooking food on the road,” he said, “burning wood, stabbing someone and immediately cauterizing the wound.”

“That is… not a standard use for this potion,” Logan said.

Virgil titled his head at him. “Would it work though?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Logan contemplated. “Perhaps. The potion can cause burns if one uses too much of it or if it is used without an appropriate layer between it and the skin. If one were to pick a knife with enough surface area and let it soak long enough, it could in theory get hot enough to do as desired. Hmm…” he thought about it. “There would perhaps be the problem of the potion not sticking to the knife very long as it is intended to soak into fabric. However, cardamom could solve that issue as long as it doesn’t interact with any other ingredients. Let me see that spell.”

Virgil stepped out of his way so he could study the page. “Yes,” Logan said after scanning through all of the ingredients. “I think cardamom would work for something like that. Let me go find some.”

He turned to walk towards where he kept his supplies of potion ingredients. Virgil followed on his heals.

“Can we use a serrated knife?”

“Oh, that’s a good idea, Virgil,” Logan said, nodding as he searched through the cupboard that should hold the coriander. “The knife being serrated would help keep the potion stuck to the blade after many uses and would increase the surface area.”

“That was certainly my intention,” Virgil said smoothly. There was something odd about the tone that had Logan turning and blinking at him. Virgil just smiled at him innocently and Logan turned back to the cabinet finally locating the cardamom.

“So how are we going to use that?” Virgil asked.

“We’ll put it in right before the last step and let it sit for about 3 minutes,” Logan said. “If it doesn’t quite work, we may need to make another batch. There are options other than cardamom, but that’s the first idea that comes to mind and it’s a lot simpler if it works.”

He continued to speak of the many other options they could try as they returned to the caldron as well as how they could test the hot knife. It was already about time for the next step and Virgil did it without interrupting Logan’s rant.

Virgil listened to his suggestions with interest all while still making sure the potion he was making was progressing well.

Logan did eventually take over to finish the potion with the revised steps he’d come up with and they ended up with a potion that looked perfect except it was a few shades darker than the one they’d originally been planning to make.

“Well, it looks good,” Logan declared. “We will need to acquire a knife to test its effectiveness, however.”

“There are a few good ones in the kitchen,” Virgil pointed out. “I especially like the one 10 inch one with the black and white handle.”

“You have been eyeing up the kitchen knives?” Logan asked.

Virgil rolled his eyes as though that was not a perfectly reasonable question to ask him. “We should steal that one,” Virgil said.

“Do you think we’ll be able to sneak past Ms. Heart to steal a knife from her kitchen?” Logan asked.

“We can’t,” Virgil said. The ‘but I can’ was implied.

Logan almost didn’t believe him… and then he remembered the water pouch incident. “It’s the dinner rush,” Logan said. “We should probably wait for a bit.”

Virgil was shaking his head. “The dinner rush is the best time,” he said. “Everyone will be distracted, and all of the knives will be out and in prime stealing position.”

“And if Patton’s mother catches us messing around in her kitchen during her busiest time of day, she will have Father ground us for a week.”

“Then we just won’t get caught,” Virgil said.

“I’m not sure if it’s that simple,” Logan said with a frown.

“You can stay here if you want,” Virgil offered. “I’ll just go by myself.”

“No, I’ll come too,” Logan relented, though he did still have some reservations about the idea.

He let Virgil lead him towards the main dining hall. By now, Virgil knew the kitchens and dining hall very well.

“Stay here,” he said. They were in a hallway a few feet down from the staff entrance to the main kitchen. “I’m going to do some reconnaissance.”

“What type of reconnaissance?” Logan asked, but Virgil had already vanished before his very eyes. With a blink, Logan looked up and saw a dark figure disappear onto a balcony overhead.

Well, Logan really had no choice but to wait there for him. It wasn’t like he could follow him. He could hear the clatter of silverware on plates from the dining hall down the corridor as he impatiently waited. It only took Virgil a bit over five minutes to return. He dropped suddenly from above and landed in front of Logan in a crouch.

“Well?” Logan asked, letting a bit of irritation into his tone so Virgil knew he was displeased. Virgil did not seem to care.

“Got it,” Virgil said with a wide grin, brandishing a large kitchen knife.

Logan flinched back at the unexpected sight of a weapon.

“You said you were doing reconnaissance!” he sputtered. “Not…” he trailed off remembering that while they weren’t in eyesight of anyone right now, they could be in earshot of someone. He lowered his tone, “stealing the knife already.”

“I was doing reconnaissance,” Virgil said with a shrug, “and then I used the information gathered by that reconnaissance to steal a knife.”

Logan narrowed his eyes at him.

Virgil just smiled. “You would have gotten in my way.”

“I would not have,” Logan insisted.

“How many times has Patton’s mom caught you stealing food from the kitchens in the past?” he asked.

Logan pursed his lips. “That is Patton’s doing,” he said.

“Sure,” Virgil said with an eyeroll. “I’ll have you prove it some other day, but for now,” he twirled the knife around in a way that made Logan cringe even though he did seem to have an expert handle over it. “We have a knife.”

“Right,” Logan agreed with a nod. “We should continue the experiment.”

Virgil stored the knife away… somewhere on his person, and they snuck back to Logan’s rooms.

When Virgil handed over the knife, Logan did have to admit it was a perfect specimen for their project: long and saw-like with a heatproof handle.

Logan carefully set it in a shallow dish and proceeded to pour the potion they’d made onto it. They let it sit for a little under half an hour before carefully pulling it out of the concoction with tongs and letting it airdry. Meanwhile, Virgil suggested they set up a testing area with various old sheets and clothing. They’d even found and decorated an armor stand with an old suit that Logan particularly disliked.

“Well,” Logan said once he’d tapped the handle and had not gotten burned by the potion. “I think we can test it now.” For safety, he made Virgil put on thick heatproof gloves before handing him the knife.

“So how do I make it work?” Virgil asked.

“The original potion works through light friction,” Logan said.

“So just start stabbing things?”

Logan went to respond, but before he could, Virgil had already twisted around and sliced through one of the sheets hanging in Logan’s potion room. There was a sizzling noise as the knife cut through the sheet like it was tissue paper leaving two aflame halves flapping about.

Logan leapt forward to tear the pieces of sheet down and the two of them stomped on the flames to put out the fire.

“It’s perfect,” Virgil said with a grin once the charred remains of the sheet were extinguished.

“It does seem to work as intended,” Logan agreed.

“Let’s do it again,” Virgil said.

“Er, well, perhaps we shouldn’t…,” Logan started, but Virgil had already set his eyes on the armor stand they’d set up. That suddenly seemed like not such a good idea to Logan.

He stabbed the armor stand viciously. It went up in violent flames. Logan’s eyes widened as the blaze only seemed to get bigger as Virgil drew back the knife.

Virgil did not seem to share Logan’s worry as he turned and stabbed another piece of hanging clothing, setting it ablaze as well.

“Virgil, no! You’re going to burn the room down!” Logan yelped.

The armor stand, at that very moment, decided to fall to the ground. They had, perhaps, not set the testing area up as well as they should have because it fell directly onto one of Logan’s rugs and set that on fire as well.

“Oops,” Virgil said, eyes wide.

Above the sound of crackling fire, Logan heard a tapping on the door between his bedroom and work room. It opened slightly after a moment and Logan’s father’s voice called out as he was sticking his head into the room, “Um, what do you mean Virgil… is burning the room down!”

The moment Logan’s father fully processed the presence of the flames, he was bursting into the room. He at least remembered that there was a fire extinguishing powder stocked in Logan’s work room even though that fact had slipped Logan’s mind in the chaos. (Perhaps Logan should have thought to set it out when they were testing a fire knife, but Logan would just add that to his growing list of regrets.)

The king managed to put all of the fires out within 30 seconds of poking his head through the door, but the fire left in his eyes when he turned to look at them afterwards was perhaps more dangerous.

Virgil slowly hid the knife behind his back. It was probably a bit late for that.

“What were the two of you doing in here?” the king asked.

“Nothing,” Logan said. Virgil shot him a look that told Logan what the boy thought about his lying abilities.

Logan’s father put his hands on his hips. “‘Nothing’ set the rug on fire?”

“We may have been doing a small experiment,” Logan said.

“What experiment?” the king asked.

“…I do not wish to say.”

“Logan.”

“Virgil wanted a fire knife.”

“A what?”

Virgil frowned over at Logan. “Your resistance to interrogation techniques is deplorable.”

Father turned to look at Virgil and obviously spotted the fact that Virgil was holding something behind his back.

“Give it here,” Father said, though his tone was a bit gentler with Virgil than it had been with Logan.

Virgil debated it for a moment, but then offered over the knife with a pout on his face. Father gingerly took it and the fire-resistant gloves from him. “Where did the two of you even get this knife?”

“You can’t tell her,” Logan said.

“You stole a knife from the kitchens?!” the king asked.

“We borrowed it,” Logan said.

“Can it be used for cooking anymore?”

“…Well.”

“In the intended manner.”

“No.”

“Then you stole it.”

Logan just frowned and looked away.

“I’m going to go put this in a secure location,” Father said, grimacing at the fire knife in his hands. “No more experiments for you two for a month. I’ll sic Patton on you.”

With that, he picked up what was left of the fire extinguishing powder (just in case) and turned to exit the room.

“Well,” Logan said once he was gone. “That was irresponsible.”

“I could steal it back from him.”

“N-no don’t do that.”

“I definitely could though,” Virgil said.

“I did not hear you say that,” Logan said, putting his hands over his ears. “I am not responsible for any more of your actions in this matter. I am going to the library.”

He walked out of the room then and Virgil followed him to the upstairs library. He said nothing more about the fire knife, but Logan would be a fool to suppose he forgot about it.

Chapter 56 (Thomas)

“Good day for a picnic,” Helen commented as she handed over the basket Thomas had requested from her a few days before. He was taking Logan, Patton, and Virgil to the cliffs today and it was perfect weather for it. Spring was truly here, which meant that those of Thomas’s duties that had laid dormant over the harsh winter were about to start up again.

The world had been on pause for a bit considering no armies or agents from any kingdom could get through the snow the last few months, but the concerns of last fall were showing their heads once again.

Thomas had just gotten word a day ago that the queen of Lamir had routed out a second assassin hiding in her ranks over the winter. The assassin had been sent shortly after it was made clear that the queen wouldn’t bow down after the assassination of her mother. Luckily, the assassin sent for Queen Cecil had not managed to complete her mission during the winter months.

While there had been no similar attempt on Prijaznia soil, Thomas couldn’t help but feel it was only a matter of time now that the snow had melted. They were already working on increasing security in the coming weeks and, though it was doubtful an assassin had managed to hide in the castle all winter without revealing themselves, they’d be closely scrutinizing all of the newer staff members.

It would be a stressful time in the coming months, which is why, despite everything Thomas needed to do, he was still going to take his son and his son’s friends on a picnic today. Logan had already started taking on royal duties as of late, but he still hadn’t taken them all on quite yet. Considering this was last summer before Logan was of age, they should at least try to take advantage of it where they could. Patton was a year younger, but the sentiment held for him as well.

Then there was Virgil. Despite their best efforts, they still didn’t know enough about Virgil, but Thomas was fairly sure he’d never had a summer to enjoy until now.

“Thanks for prepping lunch for us,” Thomas said to Helen with a smile.

“No problem,” she said waving them off. “I put in some of Virgil’s favorites.”

“Great,” Thomas said. “Do you know where the kids are?”

“Patton said they were going to go pet the cats, so I’d guess they’re in the gardens.”

Thomas thanked her again and told her to have a good day before exiting the kitchen. There was a nearby door that led straight towards the part of the gardens Patton and Logan had always favored. He figured they’d either still be around there or they would have wandered towards the stables by now knowing that they’d be taking horses to the cliffs.

So, he decided to simply walk the normal path from the door to the stable, hoping to find them.

His prediction ended up being hilariously correct. They were indeed on the path Thomas had chosen. It was clear they (or at least Logan) were attempting to make it to the stable. However, as was typical, a portion of the party had been waylaid by whimsy.

Logan was standing further down the path, arms crossed and frowning as he watched his friends. Patton and Virgil were surrounded by cats. Patton was sitting down, holding two of them in his lap and watching Virgil’s legs being swarmed by the rest of them, maybe two dozen in total.

Virgil looked confused, but not unhappy about the presence of so many cats. He was leaning down to try to pet them all.

Logan met Thomas’s eyes as he approached and waved a frustrated hand at the two of them. Logan couldn’t help but smile.

“Virgil fed one of them,” Logan complained as though he wanted Thomas to somehow go into the past and prevent this crime.

Patton and Virgil looked over at Thomas, noticing him when Logan addressed him.

“You’re going to make Princess Marisol jealous,” Thomas said. Logan frowned at Thomas as he used the ‘Princess’ label for the cat.

“Princess Marisol decided not to come,” Virgil said with a shrug. He continued to pet one of the cats.

“She’s probably sleeping on my pillow,” Logan said, sounding grumpy.

Thomas just chuckled. Princess Marisol was technically Logan’s cat, at least that’s what the kids said, and she did spend much of her time in the royal rooms. However, she was very clearly actually Virgil’s cat. Virgil just spent a lot of time in the royal wing as well.

In fact, Thomas still didn’t know where Virgil was supposed to be sleeping. He and Mr. Deknis had actually tried to tail him a couple of times, but he always ended up sleeping in Logan’s room those nights.

Knowing Virgil, he might just sleep in the walls. Though that still did not answer the question of where his parents or guardians were. They still had not figured it out. Thomas would assume he was an orphan who’d snuck onto castle grounds for safety, but Virgil had told Mr. Deknis during their first meeting that he was supposed to be in the castle, and it had not been a lie.

Then again, it had slowly become apparent that Virgil was good at dodging the multrum’s powers. It was starting to seem more likely that he’d somehow inserted a second meaning into his answer to Mr. Deknis that night than he somehow had some ghost guardian no one was able to locate working in the castle.

“She deserves the pillow more than you,” Virgil said, bringing Thomas’s thoughts back to the situation at hand. The look of audacity on Logan’s face made Thomas chuckle.

Thomas cut in before it could become a fight. “I could get Princess Marisol a pillow, so she doesn’t sleep on yours. Or we can get you a new pillow if you’d prefer, Logan.”

“It’s not about the pillow for her,” Logan argued. “It’s about her inflated sense of superiority.”

“She deserves it,” Virgil declared. Thomas could tell he was just trying to rile Logan up, and Thomas was sure Logan knew it too, but still his son reacted exactly in the way Virgil wanted him to.

“You have enabled and encouraged this behavior from the start!” Logan seethed.

“She’s a Princess.”

“She is not a princess!”

Patton shook his head while squeezing the cats in his arms, completely used to this behavior at this point. He ran a chin idly over one of the cat’s heads while watching the argument.

“We’re never going to make it to the picnic at this rate,” Thomas said to him, “and after your mother made all of this wonderful food.”

“You’re the dad,” Patton said. “Make them stop.”

And, of course, Patton did just mean that he was Logan’s dad with that statement. However, when he glanced back up at the silly argument still going on between his son and the cat covered boy on the ground, it did almost look like a fight between siblings.

Especially with the dark hair and stubborn but mischievous look in Virgil’s eyes, Thomas could almost imagine the boy being his own child.

He shook away the thoughts and glanced at the picnic basket in his hand.

“We do have a lot of food in this basket,” Thomas said, pitching his voice up so that Logan (and more importantly) Virgil would hear them clearly.

Virgil immediately turned to look at him, abandoning all interest in antagonizing Logan to look at the basket curiously.

Thomas was never sure if he should be amused or worried about how food motivated Virgil often was.

“What’s in the basket?” Virgil asked.

“I’m not sure,” Thomas said. “Patton’s mom made it. We’ll just have to see once we get to the picnic area.”

Virgil nodded in understanding and began to gently scoot all of the cats out of his lap. Logan rolled his eyes, but didn’t seem inclined to continue the argument he’d been dragged into. Virgil and Patton got to their feet and they continued on their way towards the stables.

The horses Thomas had requested be prepared for their trip were already in saddles, though the stable hand who had been handling Mr. Apples seemed a bit dirtier and more exhausted than the rest.

The stable hand seemed as happy to hand Mr. Apples over to Virgil as Virgil was to have Mr. Apples handed over to him. Thomas received Bella with a smile and Logan and Patton got their own horses as well.

The Cliffs were about half an hour's ride from the main castle. There was a mostly well-maintained path to it, though it was easy to get lost if one didn’t know the way. Mr. Apples knew the way perhaps better than Thomas himself and seemed annoyed by the fact that Thomas was trying to lead the way.

Virgil and Thomas ended up side-by-side whenever the path allowed it to placate him.

He still marveled at how willing Mr. Apples was to let Virgil ride him, especially when he tossed his head in Thomas’s direction, a horse’s equivalent of giving Thomas a stink-eye.

“Are you excited for the picnic?” Thomas asked the boy beside him.

Virgil glanced over at him and nodded.

“I am too,” Thomas said. “It’s always beautiful this time of year. I’m glad I could find the time to take you all there this year.”

“Are you very busy?” Virgil asked curiously.

“I am king,” Thomas reminded, “and now that the world isn’t snowed in anymore things will be busy.”

“With the war?” Virgil asked.

Thomas paused for a few seconds. “Yes,” he confirmed. “With the war, but you don’t need to worry about that.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Virgil asked.

“You’re just a kid,” Thomas said.

“I’m 14,” Virgil said.

Thomas glanced at him. “Exactly,” he said, “a kid, and luckily, you’re in a place that can afford you the luxury of being one.”

“What do you mean?”

“The war has been mainly fought on Mocnejsi soil in recent years. Our boarders have held strong against invasions. Unless something goes horribly wrong suddenly, it would take a long time for the main conflict to get here. The only real threat in the castle would be assassins sent after me personally.”

“Right,” Virgil said. There was an awkward pause in conversation before he spoke again. “You’re winning the war then?” he asked.

“Something could always happen,” Thomas said, “but for the most part, yes, we have quite the advantage right now.”

“Oh,” Virgil said.

Thomas shook his head as they were coming up to a narrowing of the path. “Anyway, today is a day to not think about war. Today we’re going to have a lovely picnic and do some bird watching.”

“Right,” Virgil agreed from behind Thomas as Bella took the lead (to Mr. Apples discontent.)

When the path widened again, Thomas did his best to direct the topic to lighter subjects and soon they made it to The Cliffs.

Chapter 57 (Virgil)

Virgil had never been to a picnic. At least, that’s what Patton had informed him when Virgil had described his past experiences of eating outdoors. Logan had agreed even though he’d admitted that the definition of “picnic” was only eating a pre-packaged meal outdoors which Virgil had done plenty of times.

From what Virgil could tell, the main difference was just how much stuff one brought to a picnic.

In addition to the basket full of food (that Virgil still hadn’t gotten to look in yet), the king had brought a large soft quilt that he had Logan and Virgil spread out on the ground for them all to sit on.

Patton and Logan had also packed some things themselves to bring along. Logan had brought along a book to read, and Patton had brought along a board game (thankfully not checkers but something Virgil did not recognize). Virgil hadn’t brought anything (except for the fire knife he was definitely not supposed to have and was definitely not letting the king see) because he hadn’t known he was supposed to bring things. He wouldn’t have known what to bring anyway.

The blanket was soft and a much better alternative to sitting on the ground, especially because, while there was grass at the top of The Cliffs, there were also a good number of rocks.

The king set the picnic basket in the middle of the blanket once it was spread out and then lowered himself down to sit on one side. Patton quickly followed him, already fiddling with some of his board game pieces, though he wasn’t setting it up yet. Virgil highly doubted that Logan was going to be allowed to read his book unless Patton eventually got bored of the game.

However, they would, hopefully, be allowed to make use of the basket the king had brought along.

Virgil followed the king and Patton’s lead and got to his knees on the blanket across the picnic basket from the king. He peered at the basket curiously.

He didn’t quite know what picnic food was, but Patton had told them they’d be getting ‘picnic food’ and he was very curious about what that meant.

King Thomas smiled at him. “Let’s see what Patton’s mom packed us, huh?” He reached for the basket and flipped it open as Logan sat next to Virgil. “There is a lot more food than usual in here,” the king said, sounding amused. “Let’s see.”

He began to pull out packaged food and glanced in each package to identify it before setting it out.

“We have a few types of mini sandwiches,” he said, putting them down, “and some pasta salad.” He set down the bowl.

“We also have… er something else.” He showed it to Logan.

“They’re hot cauliflower bites,” Logan said instantly upon seeing them. Virgil perked up in excitement. That was one of his favorite foods.

“Ah,” King Thomas said, but shrugged and set it down. “We also have two desserts apparently: cookies and mini apple pies. That last one’s a bit extra for a picnic.”

“They’re very good,” Virgil said happily.

“And we also have.” King Thomas paused, looking confused. “Chicken alfredo?”

“Yes!” Virgil said.

“Why do we have chicken alfredo for a picnic?”

“It’s a Virgil picnic,” Logan groaned. “She packed us a Virgil picnic.”

“Hey, at least momma sent us something too,” Patton said.

“I think I’ll stick to sandwiches for today,” King Thomas said. He looked at Patton and Logan. “Do either of you want…?”

“No,” Logan said. Patton shook his head.

The king nodded and offered the entire covered bowl of chicken alfredo to Virgil. “Here, this one’s yours,” he said.

“Really?” Virgil asked tentatively. It wasn’t exactly strange for people here to offer him food, and he’d expected and anticipated getting to eat on this venture, but the king of the country offering him an entire bowl of his favorite food was something else.

“It’s not really my idea of a picnic food and you seem excited for it,” King Thomas said with a warm smile, still holding it out.

Virgil took it reverently. Despite the time it had taken to get to the cliffs, the bottom of the container was still warm. Virgil assumed it was one of the heating spells the kitchen sometimes used.

“Thanks,” Virgil said, setting it in his lap.

“Of course, Virgil,” the king said.

The bowl was enough for four people to have a little bit, but for one person it was a lot. Still, Virgil was offered a little of every other food in the picnic basket (and he ate a good number of the hot cauliflower bites).

“Where do you put all of that?” the king asked when Virgil finished polishing off the chicken alfredo bowl.

Everyone else seemed to have finished eating long before Virgil, though Patton still had a small plate of grapes, and he occasionally popped one in his mouth. King Thomas was currently setting up the board game they’d brought on the blanket between all of them.

Virgil shrugged in answer to his question. “It’s good,” he said, “and I don’t want to waste any of it.”

“You know we can just take the leftovers back to the castle and eat them later,” King Thomas said. “You don’t have to eat it all now.”

Virgil just shrugged again, watching as the king set out a group of 8 figures on the board.

“Here, which character do you want to be?” the king asked Virgil, gesturing at the group of figures. Virgil had not noticed the figures were different at first glance. They were all copper colored and about the size of his thumb, but they had slightly different shapes. He squinted at them each carefully, finding they all looked like people, but with different clothing. Some worse pants and some skirts, a few had hats, and one was even carrying a book.

After a few moments, he pointed at one that looked like it had vines wrapped around its arms and was wearing a floppy hat that almost covered its eyes.

“That’s the druid,” King Thomas told him with a grin. “Good choice, and luckily not one that anyone usually fights over.” He glanced at Logan who didn’t react to his father’s gaze. He just plucked the figure clutching the book off the board for himself.

Patton and the king picked pieces for themselves. Patton picked one with an apron that kind of reminded Virgil of his mom and the king picked one that was in a suit of armor before putting the other 4 figures away.

Unlike checkers, this game wasn’t just for two people, and so no one had to sit watching people play while bored out of their mind.

85949

They played a practice round so Virgil could figure out how the game worked, though honestly it wasn’t that complicated, so it wasn’t really necessary.

The theme of the game was all about stealing. They were supposed to steal special tokens from other players as well as characters in the game and the first person with 20 tokens won.

The other three players argued that stealing was not the point and not the main mechanism of the game, but considering Virgil was consistently winning the entire time, he would argue they were just playing it wrong. He managed to collect 20 tokens before anyone else. In second place at this time was Logan with 9 tokens.

Logan insisted on continuing to play the game to determine 2nd and 3rd place, so Virgil ended up watching them play for a bit. Virgil didn’t mind sitting and watching other people play this game, mostly because he still had the joy of victory running in his veins.

Thomas was definitely going to lose, he noted. He kept wasting his money feeding the nonplayer characters who lived on his lands. Virgil didn’t mention this faulty strategy to him in case Virgil ever played him again.

When Logan took too long thinking about his next move, Virgil took in their surroundings.

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He’d been a bit too distracted by the prospect of food and then trying to understand (and then win) the game to truly take in The Cliffs. They were settled a good distance away from the cliffside but Virgil could still see how quickly the edge dropped off. He couldn’t see the large river he was told was at its base from where he was sitting, but he did see a few of the promised wild birds (including doves) flying around. The king had promised they’d bird watch for a bit, and Virgil figured that would happen after the game was over.

A cool spring breeze brushed across Virgil’s face, and he put his hand in his hoodie pockets to warm them. Instead, his fingers hit something icy cold.

For a moment, he didn’t remember what it was. The crescent shape of it was familiar when he put his hand over it, but he had never felt it cold before.

It was the protection charm: the first charm Virgil had ever made with Logan so many months ago. It was meant to ward off small threats as well as warn you about larger threats by changing temperature…

It had always been warm.

“What?” Patton asked, having noticed Virgil suddenly tense. Virgil, despite how he drilled into his friend’s heads to stay alert had gone soft. He’d let himself be distracted by a full belly and warm blankets and fun games.

He didn’t answer Patton. He filtered the other boy’s worried face out as well as Logan’s face as he glanced at him and the king’s still focused on the game for now. He filtered out the picnic blanket and smell of food still lingering in the air and the vine covered figure set in the middle of the board on the winner’s space. He filtered out the sound of the breeze and the breath of his companions and the distant chirping of birds.

And he heard a whoosh.

[sensualnoiree]

astro notes: daily transit 6/10

Monday. 6/10, begins the week with an apparent calm, marked by a lack of significant aspects during the day. That being said, the atmosphere is charged with tension from the impending Mars-Pluto square, suggesting an undercurrent of aggression and conflict ready to surface. The evening does bring a brief respite with a creative Moon-Mercury sextile, but Mercury’s challenging aspects to Mars and Pluto later at night prepares us mentally for the confrontations of the following day.

Lack of Significant Aspects During the Day The lack of significant aspects on Monday might lead to an expectation of a quiet and uneventful start to the week.

Quiet Beginnings: The absence of major aspects often indicates a period of calm and stability. It’s a time to catch our breath and prepare for upcoming challenges without the distraction of immediate astrological influences.

Mars-Pluto Square’s Looming Presence Despite the day’s calm, the aggressive energy of the Mars-Pluto square is palpable, even if it’s not yet exact.

Aggressive Tension: Mars and Pluto in a square aspect create a powerful and potentially destructive energy. This aspect is characterized by intense drive, ambition, and a propensity for conflict and power struggles.

Anticipating Conflict: The awareness of the impending Mars-Pluto square adds a layer of tension to the day. We may feel a sense of unease or agitation, knowing that confrontations and challenges are on the horizon.

Evening Aspects: Moon-Mercury Sextile In the evening, a creative Moon-Mercury sextile provides a brief moment of harmony and mental stimulation.

Creative Communication: The Moon-Mercury sextile at 7:34 p.m. encourages creative thinking and effective communication. It’s a good time for brainstorming, problem-solving, and engaging in intellectually stimulating conversations.

Subtle Influence: Compared to the looming Mars-Pluto square, this aspect is a gentle whisper, offering a fleeting moment of clarity and insight amidst the growing tension.

Mercury’s Challenging Aspects As the night progresses, Mercury forms challenging aspects to Mars and Pluto, priming us mentally for the confrontations to come.

Mercury Semi-Square Mars: Late tonight, Mercury forms a semi-square to Mars, activating a combative and argumentative energy.

Mental Agitation: This aspect can lead to sharp words, impulsive decisions, and mental agitation. It’s important to be mindful of how we communicate and to avoid unnecessary arguments.

Mercury Sesquiquadrate Pluto: Shortly after midnight (1:13 a.m. on Tuesday), Mercury forms a sesquiquadrate to Pluto, further intensifying mental tension and obsessive thinking.

Obsessive Thoughts: This aspect can bring deep, obsessive thoughts and a tendency towards mental power struggles. It’s a time to be aware of our thought patterns and to avoid getting trapped in negative or manipulative thinking.

Integrating the Influences

Preparing for Conflict: The day’s calm provides an opportunity to prepare mentally and emotionally for the upcoming challenges of the Mars-Pluto square. Use this time to gather your resources and plan your approach to potential conflicts.

Harnessing Creative Energy: The Moon-Mercury sextile offers a moment of creative clarity. Use this energy to brainstorm solutions, engage in meaningful conversations, and express your ideas effectively.

Managing Mental Tension: As Mercury forms challenging aspects to Mars and Pluto, it’s important to stay grounded and mindful of your thoughts and communication. Avoid unnecessary arguments and be aware of any tendencies towards obsessive thinking or mental power struggles.

follow for more astro insights like this and support me over on yt @quenysefields or instagram sensualnoiree

[lampiche]

An Aventurine-centric analysis of the 2.1 Trailblaze Quest - Part 2

This is so late I’m sorry :( Life has been keeping me busy and I just didn’t have the time to look over this one last time and post it. I focused only a small part this time because nothing else interested me in the quest. Plus, next up is All the Sad Tales, and I feel like that’s gonna take a massive amount of time… It’s probably gonna be divided in two parts! Anyway, enjoy my rambling!

Warning : Spoilers for Honkai Star Rail’s 2.1 Trailblaze Quest “Cat Among Pigeons” (still putting it here just in case)

Part 2 : Heaven is a Place on Earth

Memory

Indifferent Male: So, No. 35, you're back. Like your new lucky charm?

Aventurine: ...Can a "commodity code" really be considered a lucky charm?

→ I don’t actually have much to say about these lines, except that I searched the meaning or symbolism of the number 35 and I found none. The number 34 is more interesting, but I’ll talk about it later ! (See line 3)

→ Other than that, the whole dialogue talks a lot about luck, and there’s definitely something ironic about Aventurine’s master referring to his (Aventurine) mark as a lucky charm in these lines. It’s obviously mocking, a way to taunt Aventurine for being someone’s property even though he’s naturally lucky. Also, it’s another way to tell him that his luck is meant to be used, specifically for or by someone else. There’s basically a double layer to the way Aventurine’s master strips him of his identity and freedom. Also, with the link made between the commodity code and Aventurine’s luck, the latter appears as something oppressive, that binds Aventurine to a certain path. His luck is not shown in a positive light but as something that brings him trouble, exactly the way he sees it in the present.

2. Indifferent Male: The guys in black didn't say much, so I've no idea what you did to save your skin in that massacre back in the day.

Indifferent Male: But I figured you must have had good luck, so I bought you. From now on, you and your good luck are MY assets. Are we clear?

→ Nothing much to say here, except that it’s once again so ironic that the IPC, who said they would protect the Avgins, ended up selling Aventurine to this guy. And the fact that Aventurine ends up being forced to join the IPC in the end makes it even more twisted, it shows he’s always just been the property of the IPC all along, even if he was in the hands of someone else.

→ Also, Aventurine’s luck is again shown as something detrimental to him, the reason he was bought by this guy in the first place, so by extension the reason he became a slave. Throughout the whole memory, we’re really shown that Aventurine’s luck has never been an asset for him, even though the Avgins considered it a blessing.

3. Indifferent Male: Your first task is simple. In addition to you, I've purchased thirty... well, thirty-four other slaves.

Indifferent Male: Go and play a "game" with them. You came [sic] out alive after two days. It proves that you are the real deal.

→ So, like I said before, the number 35 doesn’t have a meaning, but 34 does. First, in ancient Egypt, the number 34 represented the union of heaven and earth. And the name of the quest is “Heaven is a place on Earth”. However, it could easily be a coincidence. But then I kept reading, and I saw that in Sumerian culture, the number 34 was associated with divine protection and spiritual strength. So obviously, I made the link between “divine protection” and “luck”. It seems that these lines are saying that Aventurine doesn’t just prove his luck to the man who bought him by killing the 34 other slaves, but also reinforces his luck. Basically, killing people gives Aventurine more luck. Once again, Aventurine’s luck only benefits him and no one else, putting him on a pedestal while other people suffer. This time it’s even worse because he directly participates in others’ suffering in the name of his luck. He’s no longer a bystander that could do nothing, he’s straight up a murderer. So we’re once again led to believe that Aventurine’s luck is more of a curse than a blessing.

→ Also, the use of the word “game” to replace the act of killing definitely has some meaning. It gives a twisted dimension to the death of the other slaves, making them look like a form of entertainment. Also, it puts the killer, Aventurine, in the position of the victor. “Game” has a positive connotation, so Aventurine’s survival is seen as a good thing, even though he had to kill everyone else to win. This definitely affected the way he values life, but also the way he approaches games and gambles. And yes, you can definitely make a link with the “Final Victor” lightcone.

4. Indifferent Male: Hahaha, are you trying to strike a bet with me? Well, you've got some guts!

Indifferent Male: Sorry, but that won't do. Don't forget your place, slave. You're not qualified to be at the table.

Indifferent Male: You're just a chip, a life thrown away in someone else's hands. Either you come back with more chips for your master, or... you never come back.

→ In these lines, there’s more vocabulary related to gambling. But just like before, the game, the gamble, is associated with the risk of losing your life, which probably shaped Aventurine’s mentality. It’s also possible that Aventurine gambles specifically because he knows that it’s the only game in which he has control over his life. Meaning that gambling is his way of no longer belonging to anybody except himself. If his life is a chip, then it’s his own and no one else’s.

5. Indifferent Male: It's all or nothing. Don't embarrass me, my lucky hound.

→ This line caught my attention. I find it pretty interesting that Aventurine uses the sentence “all or nothing” pretty often despite the fact that he probably heard it from this guy originally. Why would he regularly use a sentence that was used against him in the first place? I think it’s for the same reason as before : it’s his way of being in control of himself. There’s no longer someone to force him to follow that mentality, he’s the one who does it because he’s his own master. By claiming that sentence as his own, he’s probably showing off his freedom, or at least it’s his way of reminding himself that he’s free to a certain extent.

→ Last thing that’s not related to any line in particular, but for some reason in this memory the name that appears on top of Aventurine’s lines is “Aventurine”, whereas in the next memory, the one with Jade, the name “Kakavasha” is written on top of his lines when he speaks. Which is just strange. This memory is the only one where “Aventurine” is written on top of his lines, all of the others say “Kakavasha”. It might just be an error, but I don’t see how they could have messed it up for only one memory. I’m thinking that it could be a way to underline how this moment shaped Aventurine’s beliefs and actions up until the present, but I’m not really sure. If anybody has suggestions, do drop them!

[biggie-chcese]

rain code age headcanons because i have literally only ever been choosing ages based on what's funniest but now i wanna cast away my grand layers of irony and be genuine for a moment. also. this goes pretty in depth so be prepped for the long haul when you click read more lmao.

spoilers for the whole game below and it's because of one specific character iykyk

Yakou - this man has the soul of a guy in his late 40s going through what would be his midlife crisis if not for the fact that he's fully aware he passed the midpoint years ago. but that soul is trapped in the body of a guy who doesnt look a day older than 28. what moisturizer does he use? i doubt he even uses anything other than that 13 in 1 shampoo. anyway, i think he's 32.

Halara - 26. nothing really to justify this other than they've got that mid 20s swag but 25 didn't feel right. adult enough to be as competent as they are yet young enough to look like that. moving on.

Desuhiko - 19. i think he's the youngest of the NDA because. well. idk man have you read his dialogue? he's got a whole lot of growing to do and is still very lost on his direction in life. he's giving 'bitch fresh outta high school (or in this case, detective training) and relishing in his freshly obtained freedom."

Vivia - 28? yeah i got nothing for this i am going purely on vibes here. 28 just feels right.

Fubuki - 23. she's clearly still a bit young but is also clearly a grown ass adult who wasn't raised right so i think this makes for a happy medium, especially if she's already been on some worldwide adventures n shit before the game. works out quite swimmingly methinks.

Kurumi - 18. for my personal comfort bc we'll get to yuma later but im not gonna sit here and ignore the way the game constantly grovels at the audience's feet to ship them so id rather she not be any younger than this. anyway, more about her: she tends to hold her own as an informant with more competence, maturity, and effecience than most of the NDA. but she also has a pretty childish black and white view on things, like believing her beloved detectives are always right (girl if you were real you would be ENTRENCHED in stan culture oml do NOT get into minecraft youtubers) but i've... seen 18 year olds on the internet that are exactly the same so whatever

Aetheria girls - putting them all at 17-18 because, based on honorifics, they are treated as upperclassmen by their peers in the Japanese dub. i think waruna is the youngest and kurane is the eldest.

Yomi - 25. he has that vibe. old enough to be taken seriously as an adult but young enough to act like That™. yknow?

Martina - 32. she's giving older woman sexy librarian vibes and generally carries herself with a certain level of poise and maturity but is also a freak in a way that can best be explained by being a woman in her 30s. not elaborating on this

Swank - 41. to me he's like those awful surly businessmen who go to cabaret clubs to drink and smoke their office job woes away and cheat on their wives. but he also has extreme mafia boss swag about it so i kinda love him for that. dunno what this has to do with age tho. moving on.

Seth - 22 because he's giving youngest brother. i think he's the youngest of the peacekeepers in general. guillaume definitely bullies him about this.

Dominic - 34. bro is built like a jojo character what else do you want me to say. he's still got that youthfulness about him that makes me think he's still not going through his midlife crisis, so i wouldn't place him any older

Guillaume - 23. guillaume is so girlypop manic pixie dream girl core that she's definitely got the energy of someone who is young but also strikes the balance of being someone who has a job and a mortgage. dunno how she does it. id like to think she isnt even much older than seth but still bullies him for being the baby of the peacekeepers. do u understand my vision. please. they have so much annoying coworker potential.

shinigami - idk like 1000. she's a death god who cares.

yuma - okay. yeah. look i dont give a singular fuck about age discourse- headcanon whatever you want- but from looking at canon material i genuinely think that he could not possibly be any younger than 21. 20 if we wanna push it. yes, i know he looks young. i have eyes. but also, im in my 20s and the most common thing people tell me when i reveal my age is "oh, i thought you were 15." one time a person asked me if i was 12. at my job. that i was actively working at. i was 20. adults can look young, and contrary to the classic 1000 year old loli dragon trope he doesnt act overtly childish. he acts like a normal fuckin guy. yes he cries but like. you wouldn't in his position? bro speedruns lifelong trauma so skillfully that he's backwards long jumping into alternate universes where everything is somehow worse. i'd be freaked out if he didn't cry. also im aware that the child prodigy detective trope is a thing and that kodaka has written that before but... he was number one three years ago. and the training takes two years. which means, if he is a minor in the game's present day, he started working at the WDO at 12 and became number one at 14... at the oldest. have you ever met a 14 year old? forgive me for not suspending my disbelief here. and really the kicker for me is that yuma has a line where he says he's not sure if he's drinking age (which would be 20 in japan), but you know who would be sure? you know who knows yuma's age better than yuma?

makoto kagutsuchi - this megacorporation CEO has a fully stocked minibar installed in his penthouse. <- sentence i cannot bring myself to believe if it's about a child. since i also cant picture him becoming CEO at age 14 without yomi at least once angrily pointing that out (he only ever mentions that makoto is an outsider, or has his head in the clouds), id like to think both him and yuma, at their youngest, earned their top spots at their respective organizations at 18. it keeps their gifted kid syndrome and young prodigy-ness without making things comically ridiculous or uncomfortable for the sheer amount of sexual situations yuma gets put into.

anyway that's my silly little ramble on age headcanons. this was actually really fun to think about. shoutout to kodaka for leaving out the ages. funniest choice he could've made

[sunnyrealist]

Chapter 34: A Hidden Cave

The Sun, the Moon, and All Our Stars

Summary and Details…

Chapter Background and Summary: Sebastian and Kate are on an adventurous camping trip in the Scottish Highlands. Their first two days were leisurely, but now that their third day has begun, they're getting higher into the mountains and closer to the places they want to explore. In this chapter, the two lovers discover a cave hidden behind a large waterfall that does not appear on any map.

Pairing: 25-year-old, post-Azkaban Sebastian Sallow x Kate Mayflower (my OC)

Content warnings: In general, this story is rated 18+, so MNDI. For this particular chapter, there are no content warnings.

The full chapter is available below the cut; it can also be found on AO3 (link is posted below). Please leave some feedback. A comment, like, or Kudos would be quite motivational. 🥰

Chapter 34: A Hidden Cave

Sitting on a large rock, Sebastian unfolds his map. As she patiently waits, Kate observes her boyfriend silently studying the route. 

Being dressed for action and adventure feels so foreign to her. She had to pay a visit to Augustus Hill at Gladrags prior to the trip to acquire outfits suited to hiking and exploration per Sebastian’s strong suggestion. She could still hear his words in her head: “Dresses are completely unsuitable for the trip.” Trousers are not Kate’s favorite clothing item by any means, but she had to admit, now that they were truly trekking up mountains over rocky terrain, that they are the most sensible. Accompanied by boots, a sweater with two additional layers, gloves, and a cape, Kate wears a darker color palette than usual - browns with varying degrees of gray. 

Sebastian appears dashing and completely in his element, clad in a jacket and trousers in off-white, with a vest and cape in dark green, and boots, a necktie, and belt in shades of brown. His chocolate eyes are trained on the map, then glance at their current surroundings.

“We should still have a couple more hours until we reach the first cave,” he explains, perplexed. “There is nothing like this marked on the map. It’s strange.”

Kate, though surprised, can’t help but marvel at the gorgeous waterfall along their path. “Then it’s a lovely surprise, wouldn’t you say?” 

Sebastian’s eyes narrow as he stands up, examining the waterfall. “It is rather pretty, but this map should account for almost everything we should see along the way. The thing is - we are going in the right direction… I just can’t make sense of it.”

Kate reaches out, smiling and putting her hands over his, forcing him to fold up the map. “Do we need an explanation for something so beautiful? Perhaps we should simply enjoy it as it is.”

Sebastian sighs, the tension visibly disappearing from his posture. “I suppose you’re right.” 

He pockets the map, then puts an arm around Kate’s waist as they both admire the sight. She leans her head between his arm and chest, taking in every little detail.

A moment later, she gasps. “Sebastian… look! Look behind the waterfall! Do you see it?”

Sebastian focuses, staring. There is a tiny path leading towards the waterfall, which doesn’t seem all that interesting until he notices an opening - a cave entrance - behind it. “Was that there the entire time? I swear, I didn’t notice it until just now. How odd.”

“I don’t know,” Kate replies honestly. “Likewise. I only just saw it…”

They turn to look at each other, rather intrigued. 

“Sebastian, if this was not on the map, it could mean that no one knows this is here,” she deduces. 

“Yes, you’re right,” Sebastian agrees, intrigued. “Who knows what could be inside? Perhaps we are the first to find it in centuries…”

Kate raises her eyebrows. “There would only be one way to find out… Should we go inside?”

Sebastian pauses, running through hypothetical situations they might find themselves in. “Unmarked destinations can pose danger. If no one has been here for years and years, there could be a high reward if someone used it as a hiding place for treasure. But, I’ll admit - situations like this are high-risk.”

Kate nods. “I know nothing about this, but I trust your judgment, Bash.”

“High risk, high reward…” he muses, then puts his hands on Kate’s shoulders, making certain that she is listening to him carefully. “There could be traps. Curses. Spiders. I mean, truly, who knows.” He studies her face. “My love, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I’m not sure you’re ready for something like this. This is only your first time exploring…”

She cuts him off. “But you said that the castle we’ll explore has been abandoned for centuries, too. Why is that any different?”

Sebastian considers her reasoning. “I… I understand what you’re thinking. It’s just that caves have a more… wild and untamed nature than something man-made like a castle. Anything could be waiting in the dark for us.”

Kate smiles, pulling out her wand. “Then let’s use Lumos.” She pokes him with the wand. “My moon, this is why we’re out here, isn’t it? To have an adventure together? Come on, let’s check it out. If you’re with me, I know I’m safe.”

The worry on his face begins to fade. “Yes, that’s true… Well, if you’re this enthusiastic, I suppose we could have a look around.” He takes her hand, kissing it, then speaks in a serious tone. “Just promise me… if I tell you to do something, you’ll do it.”

“You’re not the boss of me, Sebastian Sallow,” she playfully retorts, already beginning to wander onto the narrow path that leads to the cave.

“Kate - wait! You need to be more careful. It’ll be slippery,” he warns.

Just as he finishes speaking, she loses her footing with a little shriek. She almost topples over but catches herself in time. It all happens so quickly that Sebastian can do little more than reach out. She flattens herself against the rocky wall, her eyes wide as she stares at the steep drop leading to a pool of water far, far below. Her heartbeat drums in her ears.

“Are you okay?!” Sebastian asks, gingerly making his way towards her.

“Yes,” she responds breathlessly.

“This is exactly what I meant when I said you need to listen to me,” he continued, his own heart rate speeding. “Merlin, you scared me.”

“I’m sorry.” She observes him carefully. “I know you have more experience. I guess I was just excited to try something new.”

“It’s fine. It’s fine,” Sebastian repeats. “Come here.”

Kate shuffles back towards him, much more cautious now. Her boyfriend opens his arms and takes her into his embrace.

“I don’t want to have any chance of losing you,” he whispers, kissing the top of her head. 

“You won’t. I promise - you won’t.”

“I’ll protect you as best I can,” he murmurs against her hair. “My sun.”

“And I’ll do the same,” Kate tells him. “I’ll protect you, too, my moon.”

Sebastian laughs heartily. “Oh, Kate, my love. I don’t think I’m in any need of that. Remember, I’m the experienced one here.”

She smiles. “Yes, you are. But even so…” Glancing back towards the cave, she asks, “Are you sure we should do this? I’m having some doubts now.”

“It will be fine,” he answers after a moment. “We will be fine.”

As the light slowly disappears behind them, Kate holds on to Sebastian’s arm. His eyes dart around, trying to get a sense of what the cave might be like. She can’t explain it, but she feels a sense of exhilaration along with a sense of dread. Every step forward, the sensation increases. Neither of them speak. The two listen intently for any sounds that might indicate danger, but it is eerily silent and has been since they entered the cave, despite the rushing waterfall outside.

Without warning, both of them fall over, tripping over something that feels like overgrown tree roots. Kate squeaks in surprise and then becomes more alarmed as she feels tendrils moving around her, wrapping around her legs and torso. She is separated from Sebastian, who is dragged in the opposite direction.

“Bash!” Kate shrieks, terrified as she is carried towards a wall, the tendrils growing tighter as she squirms.

“Lumos!” Sebastian bellows with his wand outstretched, bathing the area in light.

Kate gasps in realization the moment she sees the source. “Devil’s snare!”

“Lumos maxima!” he calls out. 

The plant drops him immediately, shrinking away from the illumination. Sebastian stands up quickly, rushing over to Kate with his wand held out towards the Devil’s Snare. It relaxes its grip around her until she is able to stand on her own two feet. 

She reaches out for him, trying to feel secure with a hug, but he shakes his head. “We need to move past this area - it’s not safe.”

Sebastian pulls her forward with haste, turning back to see the Devil’s Snare stretching back out across the cave floor as the light from his wand gets further and further away. 

“I should have known it was Devil’s Snare,” Kate whispers, shaking her head in remorse. “My papa would have been so disappointed to see me scrambling like that. I… I didn’t have a clear head.”

“It’s alright. Just keep your wits about you,” Sebastian requests. “We may run into more surprises soon enough.” 

After walking about ten more minutes, Sebastian affirms Kate’s feelings by sharing his own. “Something about this cave is strange. I don’t like it. I have half a mind to turn back. It just doesn’t feel right.”

“I have an odd feeling, too. It’s like I feel… thrilled… but also terrified.”

“Maybe we should leave-”

“Sebastian!” Kate shouts, cutting him off. “Wow! Do you see?!”

He squints and then his eyes land upon what his girlfriend has spotted. From right where they stand, the cave walls are suddenly growing with life - and glowing. Lined with green vines and leaves along with huge, exotic flowers, it seems like a little paradise within the darkness. The area is lit up by bioluminescent mushrooms. Common blue butterflies flit about, not at all afraid of the humans walking amongst them.

“I don’t understand… I didn’t think anything like this could grow without sunlight,” Kate muses, astonished. She reaches out to touch a yellow and pink hibiscus flower, her fingertips caressing the silky, soft petals. Her eyebrows raise when she realizes that all of the plant life feels as cold as ice, yet unfrozen. “My papa would be fascinated.”

“No, none of it could grow without light,” Sebastian replies. “This makes no sense.”

“But it is real, Bash,” Kate tells him, astonished. “Touch something. You’ll see. It isn’t an illusion…”

He reaches out to touch leaves on the vines, sharply inhaling when he feels how freezing cold they are. His eyes are wide as he contemplates how the cave could defy nature. He takes a moment to think.

“Something’s wrong here,” Sebastian finally concludes in a serious and urgent tone. “We need to leave. It isn’t right. It isn’t natural.”

A group of butterflies rushes in front of Kate. She gasps. “Sebastian, even more butterflies!” 

They fly further into the cave with Kate eagerly following. Sebastian trails after her. “Kate…” he warns.

She completely ignores him, transfixed by the display. Deeper and deeper she travels, driven by the instinct to follow the butterflies to beautiful treasure, just like she had in the forest. As nervous as Sebastian feels, his feet move forward. Something within him is bidding him to continue on, to follow his lover…

The path within the cave eventually ends, circling around a lowered pit. The butterflies flutter down below, where Kate and Sebastian cannot follow. 

From the corner of Kate’s eye, something dark flies, almost hovering up above. Not able to see much in the darkness, she ignores it, figuring it must be a bat. It certainly isn’t the butterflies; now at the bottom of the pit, they all fly in a wild circle, stuck in an endless loop, until they disappear into thin air.

The pit dimly lights up. They are no longer observing a dark and empty pit but a bookstore within the cave. 

[compneuropapers]

Interesting Papers for Week 35, 2024

Functional diversity of dopamine axons in prefrontal cortex during classical conditioning. Abe, K., Kambe, Y., Majima, K., Hu, Z., Ohtake, M., Momennezhad, A., … Sato, T. (2024). eLife, 12, e91136.3.

The pupil dilation response as an indicator of visual cue uncertainty and auditory outcome surprise. Becker, J., Viertler, M., Korn, C. W., & Blank, H. (2024). European Journal of Neuroscience, 59(10), 2686–2701.

Visual statistical learning in preverbal infants at a higher likelihood of autism and its association with later social communication skills. Bettoni, R., Cantiani, C., Riboldi, E. M., Molteni, M., Bulf, H., & Riva, V. (2024). PLOS ONE, 19(5), e0300274.

Computational reconstruction of mental representations using human behavior. Caplette, L., & Turk-Browne, N. B. (2024). Nature Communications, 15, 4183.

Spiking activity in the visual thalamus is coupled to pupil dynamics across temporal scales. Crombie, D., Spacek, M. A., Leibold, C., & Busse, L. (2024). PLOS Biology, 22(5), e3002614.

Role of dopamine neurons in familiarity. Fleury, S., Kolaric, R., Espera, J., Ha, Q., Tomaio, J., Gether, U., … Mingote, S. (2024). European Journal of Neuroscience, 59(10), 2522–2534.

Infralimbic activity during REM sleep facilitates fear extinction memory. Hong, J., Choi, K., Fuccillo, M. V., Chung, S., & Weber, F. (2024). Current Biology, 34(10), 2247-2255.e5.

Information-based TMS to mid-lateral prefrontal cortex disrupts action goals during emotional processing. Lapate, R. C., Heckner, M. K., Phan, A. T., Tambini, A., & D’Esposito, M. (2024). Nature Communications, 15, 4294.

Jointly looking to the past and the future in visual working memory. Liu, B., Alexopoulou, Z.-S., & van Ede, F. (2024). eLife, 12, e90874.3.

Self-organization of modular activity in immature cortical networks. Mulholland, H. N., Kaschube, M., & Smith, G. B. (2024). Nature Communications, 15, 4145.

Grouping in working memory guides chunk formation in long-term memory: Evidence from the Hebb effect. Musfeld, P., Dutli, J., Oberauer, K., & Bartsch, L. M. (2024). Cognition, 248, 105795.

Peripheral preprocessing in Drosophila facilitates odor classification. Puri, P., Wu, S.-T., Su, C.-Y., & Aljadeff, J. (2024). Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 121(21), e2316799121.

Heuristics in risky decision-making relate to preferential representation of information. Russek, E. M., Moran, R., Liu, Y., Dolan, R. J., & Huys, Q. J. M. (2024). Nature Communications, 15, 4269.

Ventral tegmental area dopamine projections to the hippocampus trigger long-term potentiation and contextual learning. Sayegh, F. J. P., Mouledous, L., Macri, C., Pi Macedo, J., Lejards, C., Rampon, C., … Dahan, L. (2024). Nature Communications, 15, 4100.

The expression of decision and learning variables in movement patterns related to decision actions. Selbing, I., & Skewes, J. (2024). Experimental Brain Research, 242(6), 1311–1325.

The differential impact of active learning on children’s memory. Stanciu, O., Jones, A., Metzner, N., Fandakova, Y., & Ruggeri, A. (2024). Developmental Psychology, 60(5), 904–915.

Predictions and errors are distinctly represented across V1 layers. Thomas, E. R., Haarsma, J., Nicholson, J., Yon, D., Kok, P., & Press, C. (2024). Current Biology, 34(10), 2265-2271.e4.

Graded decisions in the human brain. Xie, T., Adamek, M., Cho, H., Adamo, M. A., Ritaccio, A. L., Willie, J. T., … Kubanek, J. (2024). Nature Communications, 15, 4308.

Visual boundary cues suffice to anchor place and grid cells in virtual reality. Yang, X., Cacucci, F., Burgess, N., Wills, T. J., & Chen, G. (2024). Current Biology, 34(10), 2256-2264.e3.

The tuning of tuning: How adaptation influences single cell information transfer. Zeldenrust, F., Calcini, N., Yan, X., Bijlsma, A., & Celikel, T. (2024). PLOS Computational Biology, 20(5), e1012043.

[malestransforming]

Becoming Papi

An unnamed narrator wins a competition to get "up close and personal" with his favourite hockey player, Auston Matthews. Turns out he may be getting closer and more personal than he anticipated!

This is a story I've posted elsewhere. It is my story, copyright me.

"Get Up-close and Personal with Auston Matthews!” The competition had said. I had entered on a whim, never expecting to win. I was very surprised to receive the winning notice in my inbox a few days later. For a week, I had been buzzing. I was going to meet my favourite hockey player! Number 34 of the Toronto Maple Leafs: Auston Matthews. 

And now I was here! Sitting in a random training room at the Ford Performance Centre in Etobicoke, Ontario, just outside of Toronto. The room was cool and full of exercise equipment. Massive banners hung from the ceiling and the walls were covered in different murals of player faces and motivational phrases. I fiddled with my shirt as I waited, thinking about how Auston was likely in the next room also waiting for me. I wondered if he was as nervous as I was or if he was calm and cool, but before I could put much into the thought, the door opened. A woman dressed in black poked her head through the gap.

“You can come in now,” she said.

I smiled and and followed her through the door. The room on the other side was a long room, with wooden dressing stalls and benches against the walls. Hockey equipment hung at each stall; pants, shoulder pads, blue and white practise jerseys and the room had a gentle odour of sweat. A massive Maple Leaf logo covered much of the floor, and sitting on one of the wooden benches was Auston Matthews. He was wearing a cream coloured hoodie, shorts and a baseball cap. The way he sat on the bench pushed his thighs, making them seem thicker and bigger. His hair was slicked back behind his ears while his dark moustache was sitting darkly on his upper lip.

“Auston,” I murmured, reaching towards him with my hand. “It’s so, so incredible to meet you!”

“Hey,” he said in a relaxed drawl and standing up to meet me. He was taller than me. His smile instantly relaxed me. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m such a big fan. You’re, like, my favourite player.” I was gushing, but I didn’t care.

He was killing me with that smile. I realized I was still gripping his hand. 

“Oh sorry!” I said, but his hand tightened and firmed around mine. I felt a warm tingling around my palm for a moment before he let go and grinned at me.

“You’re going to be perfect,” he said. “What happens next is going to be weird… Just relax and let it happen.”

He let go of my hand and I felt my face contort into a puzzled expression. But before I was able to voice a question, I was met with an extreme pricking sensation travelling up my arm. It started in the hand Auston had just shook and gradually travelled and radiated across my body. It felt like a warm, relaxing wave that cascaded through my blood and over my skin.

“You should probably take off your clothes for this,” Auston said. 

I nodded and did what I was told, tossing everything in a corner. The waves were coursing faster through my body now, making my heart thump in my chest. I spied a mirror on the wall and walked over to it, ignoring the fact that I was naked. The tingling sensation was across my entire body now, causing me to become excited and aroused. My penis began to lift and grow harder, and so it only felt right to touch it. I stood naked in the Maple Leafs’ dressing at their practice facility, feeling dazed and tingly, stroking my cock for extra sensation.

The tingling stopped, but the warmth remained and a sudden jolt of energy attacked my shoulders. My shoulders clicked and popped and widened out, with new muscle mass stretching overtop. At the same time, my deltoids and pectoral muscles ballooned, becoming thicker and much more pronounced with thick layers of muscle. I felt strength and power push down into my core. Where once there had been a ring of fat, there were now strong abdominal muscles. My stomach tightened and fortified, needing more room to house the brawn I was gaining, and I became stocky and heavy-set in muscle. Dark lines sketched their way across my right side and arm: new tattoos inked their way onto my bulked mass. An intricate sleeve tattoo wove across my right arm, painting dark lines across my lightly browning skin. I stroked my hand across my chest, feeling the raw strength and newly sprouted chest hair underneath my fingertips. My back cracked and stretched as I jumped up several inches in height.

The skin on my penis darkened and the shaft grew in girth and length into a monster cock. Pre-cum began to drip out of the tip. I was enjoying the changes.

In the mirror I saw a wide-chested, bulked out body attached to two stick-like legs. To say it looked like I skipped leg day would be an understatement. Almost automatically, the changes continued in my lower half. My butt ballooned and padded out, looking like two globes attached to my waist, the product of millions of squats. My thighs thickened and increased significantly, looking more like massive trunks than legs now. Below that, my calves became cut and toned, shedding any excess fat and leaving behind only raw muscle. I stood on two strong centres of explosive power. The skin browned slightly, matched the hue of the my torso.

I looked in the mirror at my new body. Instinctively, I knew it was Auston Matthews’ body. Everything from the neck down was unfamiliar, different and new, but deep down I knew it was right. In fact, it looked odd seeing my thin head attached to such a muscular body. The changes were not finished yet. I turned and saw the other Auston (the real Auston) with his shorts around his ankles, stroking his penis vigorously; it appeared he was enjoying my changes as much as I was.

Turning back to the mirror, I saw my skull and expanding, creaking and cracking as it went. My chin pushed forward, squaring off the back of my jaw as well. My eyes became more inset, slightly narrower and darker and my nose more pointed and wide at the nostrils. My hair lengthened down towards my neck, and my forehead broadened as my hairline migrated to the very top of my head. My ears flattened a little against my head and became longer. The wild and bushy eyebrows I sported before thinned, becoming tapered lines above my dark eyes. My teeth whitened and straightened. And above my thickening lips, a dark wisp of hair poked out through my skin and thickened into a Latino-style moustache. It swept across my entire upper lip into a neat half triangle that stretched under my nose. More patches of scruff and facial hair dotted across my cheeks and neck. Auston Matthews was staring at me from the mirror.

“That was sick, bro!” The other Auston Matthews was behind me, retying the drawstring on his shorts. He was wearing a face mask now, and a dark blue coloured hoodie and cap. His eyes looked lighter than before, almost like he had changed his own appearance as well. He stepped over, offering me his hand to high-five. 

I felt my face smile that trademark Auston Matthews smile. “Thanks,” I replied, my voice now lower and echoing the same laid-back drawl, and returned his high-five. 

“You probably have a million questions. Like ‘what happened’, ‘what did you do?’, right?”

“Something like that!” I laughed.

“So, yeah, basically… I want some time off. I’m going to disappear for a while… Get off the grid and relax. So while I’m gone, I want you to cover for me. This is your prize for winning that competition!”

“So I’m you?” I said, not fully understanding. 

“Not yet. You will be, just as soon as I’ve said the code word. After that, you will be Auston Matthews and I’ll just be some guy.”

“Oh,” I said. “I- I’m pretty shit at hockey. Like, I can skate but I can’t shoot for shit. I can’t even lift the puck. I don’t know how this is gonna work.” 

“Don’t worry about that. As soon as I say the code word, the transformation will finish and you’ll have all of my skills and memories, my winning personality… everything! You’ll be a complete copy of me.”

“Really? That’s fucking awesome! But what about the me from before? People are going to wonder where I am.”

“I’ll take care of that. Don’t worry. Let’s just say, that guy from before? He’s living on the other side of the planet. I’ll be back in a year, maybe more if you want, and I’ll change you back. All right?”

A life of possibilities flashed through my mind. I had never thought of playing in the NHL, even as a fantasy, and now it was about to become my reality.

“Oh! I forgot one thing,” Auston said as he lifted his arms behind his neck to two silver chains that were hooked there. “You’ll need these,” he said, and he carefully slipped them around my neck.” 

I looked into the mirror, staring back at my naked body, taking in my massive hockey butt and sleeve tattoo. The silver chains caught the light, and a silver cross stuck against my massive pectorals. It felt complete now. I ran my hands over my shoulders, chest, stomach and butt, grinning at myself. I’m going to be Auston Matthews! I thought. No, I am Auston Matthews! 

“All right bud, this is it. Remember, from this moment, you are going to be Auston Matthews. It’s going to feel awesome and amazing. Enjoy it.” The other Auston wrapped his arm around my beefy neck. “Don’t forget, you’ve got practice after this, ay Papi?”

Papi? A calm fog entered my brain. The world melted away from me and I felt the final changes take hold.

My name is Auston Matthews. I was born in California and grew up in Scottsdale, Arizona. I am part Mexican. I am a professional hockey player. I play for the Toronto Maple Leafs. 

My name is Auston Matthews. I was born in California and grew up in Scottsdale, Arizona. I am part Mexican. I am a professional hockey player. I play for the Toronto Maple Leafs…

My name is Auston Matthews.

My brain filled with years of hockey practice, workouts, flashes of Mexican heritage, memories of playing for USA National Team, playing with the ZSC Lions in Zürich and of playing with the Toronto Maple Leafs. I remembered the awards I had won, the All Star games I had played in, the teammates I had played with. My brain relaxed and mellowed, as new personality traits took over. The foreign-feeling muscles I had just grown became familiar and normal; I immediately knew how to use the power in my legs and arms. Some Spanish words entered my brain and I felt my identity switch to part Mexican. The fog lifted from my brain, and the room re-materialised around me. 

What am I doing here, staring at myself in the mirror! I need to get dressed for practice! 

I immediately strode over to my dressing stall — the one marked MATTHEWS 34 — and slipped on my compression gear and skate socks. I grabbed my jock and pulled it up to my waist, adjusting my crotch and penis to sit within the cup. Sitting, I reached for my shin pads, fixed him to my legs, and strapped the Velcro around my calves. I pulled a pair of blue and white striped hockey socks overtop of my shin pads, and hooked them securely at my waist. 

I was on autopilot at this point; everything felt natural and normal. 

I slid into a pair of blue hockey pants and tightened them around my waist. I saw that my skates were a custom pair of CCMs, with a blue and white pattern around the ankle with my nickname Papi and number 34 next to it. I stomped my foot inside the boot and tied my skates on tight. Quickly, I took a roll of hockey tape and wrapped one, two, three strips tightly around my shins. Next I grabbed my shoulder pads and elbow pads and strapped them around my massive arms and chest. I pulled a blue practise jersey over my pads, the number 34 emblemed on the back. Instinctively, I ran my hand through my hair and slicked it back, making it easier for me to don my helmet. I clipped the straps and checked it was on tightly. 

I reached for my gloves, putting them on felt familiar and welcoming. I nimbly ambled over, walking in skates, towards the rink exit, grabbing two of my PAPI labelled sticks from the rack. They were already taped and waxed and ready for some quick wristers on the ice. With my equipment on and my sticks in hand, I walked towards the ice.

Before stepping on the rink, I noticed a figure in the stands; an anonymous figure in a cream-coloured hoodie. I offered a loose salute from my temple and took my first stride. I let my powerful leg muscles work the way they had been conditioned to as I made confident movements across the pad. Spying a puck, I pivoted and strode towards it, catching it with my stick and pulling it towards me. I skated towards the empty net and in an instant, snapped it into the back of the goal. The whole movement had taken less than a second. I grinned and looked back to the now empty spot where the figure had stood. 

“My name is Auston Matthews, and I play for the Toronto Maple Leafs,” I thought to myself and ripped off another shot on goal.

[kingofthering]

pedrenzo and 34... thank u

34. things you whispered in my ear

Valencia 2018.

When he approaches the Honda garage about an hour before they all have to head out for the sighting lap, Jorge has knots in his stomach.

He’s aware that he’s never been welcomed there (might already be worried about how things will be next year) and he chose neutral clothes to not stand out but he can still consider himself lucky when it’s Marc he first runs into.

“What are you doing here?” Marc asks, his tone a hint of accusatory.

Lucky might have been an exaggeration. Marc always pretended to never take a side when the whole Dani/Jorge contract thing happened but Jorge knows where Marc’s loyalty stands. It’s okay, he would have sided with Dani too if he wasn’t the one being opposed to him.

“Hey, you’re already champion, play nice,” Jorge says with a roll of his eyes. Marc might be 25 now but sometimes he terribly reminds Jorge of the little shit he was back when he arrived in the premier class and Jorge has to treat him as such.

(They’re friends now, it’s fine.)

“Can you help me find Dani?” Jorge adds quietly. Marc caught him at the entry of the Honda garage and grabbed his arm to push them in a quieter corner but Jorge still doesn’t feel safe. He still has a goal in mind, too.

“Are you sure he wants to see you?”

“Marc, please. This is important.”

To the point where Jorge is ready to beg for Marc’s help even if that will bruise his ego and he’ll need like a week to recover and—

“If Dani is mad at me, you’ll owe me something, I’ll figure it out later,” Marc cuts him out of his thoughts. “Follow me closely, keep your head down.”

Jorge does as he’s told and keeps his eyes on Marc’s shoes until they reach what looks like Dani’s rider room. “You two are the worst. Don’t ruin this for him.”

Jorge doesn’t have time to defend himself before Marc disappears. He takes a deep breath before finding the courage to knock on Dani’s door. He’s quick to get inside once he’s received a “Yes” from the other side.

It probably sounds like the silliest of things to say and maybe it’s just Jorge being stupidly in love (and finally able to acknowledge his feelings, at that) but being in a room with Dani instantly makes him feel better, his heart calming down.

Dani is sitting on his massage table, clad in only his base layers with his iPad in one hand, a page of telemetry data open from where Jorge can see.

“Hey,” Dani says, breaking the silence between them.

“Hi,” Jorge answers. “I wanted to see you one last time before the race.”

And then he takes the couple of steps which separate him from Dani, placing himself in-between Dani’s knees. His hands find Dani’s, the iPad put to the side, and he squeezes them, just once. Dani squeezes back.

It’s funny how you can think about a moment for hours, repeat the words you want to say in loops in your head to the point you no longer know if the sentences even make sense, and then when the moment comes, you blank and no sound can escape your mouth anymore.

Amazing feature of the human brain, really.

Jorge tries to open his mouth, closes it, repeats the sequence again.

Dani sweeps both of his thumbs over his knuckles.

A few months ago, Jorge didn’t even know if he could have this. When Dani and him got together a few years back, they promised each other that they wouldn’t let this sport —the other love of their life, really— come between them and that they would be smart about the issues that would inevitably happen.

Jorge will probably never know if there was even a smart option for their situation but even if it took a certain amount of fights and nights where he had to cry himself to sleep from a mix of sadness and frustration, they made it in the end.

That’s what matters now.

“If you make me cry before the race, I think Marc will find you and physically hurt you,” Dani says quietly.

It makes Jorge snort, a smile sliding on his face, replacing what must have been way too serious of an expression.

“He’s still such a fucking menace, it’s insane.”

“We were having our last championship battle back when you were his age, you want me to remind you how insane you were then?”

Jorge chuckles. Touché. Dani deserves Marc’s support anyway. Jorge is glad that he has people like that in his life.

They stare into each other’s eyes after that, Jorge with his throat a little too tight. Then Dani says “Come on, you need to go back to your team and I need to finish getting ready” and he gets up from the massage table to capture Jorge in a crushing hug, his arms secure around Jorge’s waist.

Jorge squeezes him back, hard. He dips his head and kisses the skin of Dani’s neck before taking a deep breath there.

His voice is barely a whisper when he finds Dani’s ear before letting go of him. “Go show everyone how it’s done today. I love you and I’m so proud of you.”

Jorge leaves right after that and doesn’t get to know if he made Dani cry.

In any case, he’s the one with eyes slightly burning when he makes his way back to the Ducati garage.

send me a pairing + a number and I’ll write a little something.

[garycxjk]

The possibly hidden message of the music video of Joost Klein's Luchtballon, and it's not what you think

Okay, this is going to be a short one hopefully, if not, then I apologize, but I'm not going to rewrite this preamble. Also, this is mostly just an opinion piece, not actual facts, but it's something that I believe is what's probably happening.

So, Joost Klein recently released the song Luchtballon, and I know everybody and their grandma has already talked about this song. Like, for the record, I know this song had already been written before Eurovision, though I don't know if the lyrics were different. But, that doesn't matter, because we're not going to talk about the lyrics.

No, there's a hidden message within this video, and, well, it's not what you think.

Okay, let's get this out of the way. A lot of this video is a dig at Eurovision, we all know that. Like, the fact that he's being shot out of the sky by what's a proxy of the EBU, all that shit. But, there's a hidden layer to it.

Within all the layers about Eurovision and what happened being portrayed here, and how he came out stronger, there's another, undiscussed, layer that nobody talks about, and it's about us.

At 0:46, we can see people dancing, "hakken". These people are in suits, which is already a bit odd. We can assume these are from the EBU, right?

Well, later, at around 1:34, we can see him storm Onion Corp, which is basically a proxy of the EBU. Here, the people wear black. However, the suits at the beginning actually wore gray.

My personal theory is that the entire segment where people are dancing in the streets, they're all supposed to represent us, the viewers.

During that 0:46 segment, we can see Joost Klein being dragged away by the two suits who earlier were dancing with his music. However, all the crowd did was dance.

Basically, it's us vibing with his music, but in the end, being just outsiders, bystanders, essentially celebrating Joost Klein but not understanding the pain he's feeling.

Later, his Eurovision suit is being burnt by the suits, who, again, are dancing, this time around the burning suit.

I think that the gray suits aren't the EBU, but something outside the EBU. Maybe even us.

You see, we turned Joost into some kind of martyr, putting him in his own prison. We celebrate the burning of the EBU, but forget that we're also basically celebrating him not actually being able to fulfill his one dream, which was to stand on that podium. We are his prisoners, he's stuck within a prison called the present, not being able to leave the past behind, not being able to go into the future.

It's also why the ending is so effective. In the end, sure, he shoots up some motherfuckers, but he also doesn't outright kill the final boss, instead opting to leave it all behind. He's essentially just letting things be, and is now actually free to ride into the future.

So in short, yes, I'm of the opinion that the video clip is about how the EBU has treated him, but also, how we, in a way, also contribute to Joost's pain.

I know that I don't have some cool closing segment like I usually have, but I was just going to make it really short. So yeah.

Fuck the EBU.

[mariacallous]

Growing up in Beirut during Lebanon’s 15–year civil war, I wished for someone like Anthony Bourdain to tell the story of my country: a place ripped apart by violence, yes, but also a country where people still drove through militia checkpoints just to gather for big Sunday family lunches, or dodged sniper fire to get to their favorite butcher across town to sample some fresh, raw liver for breakfast. Bourdain, the legendary roving chef and master storyteller who committed suicide on Friday in France at the age of 61, would have approved of such excursions in search of the perfect morsel—he probably would have come along.

Coming of age during conflict made me want to become a journalist. I hoped to tell the story of my country and the Middle East—a place rife with conflicts, sure, but also layered with complexities, a place of diverse peoples full of humanity. In the summer of 2006, I was the BBC’s Beirut correspondent when war erupted between Israel and Hezbollah, the pro-Iran Shia militant group. Hezbollah had kidnapped three Israeli soldiers, triggering the month-long conflict. Within a day, the Israelis had bombed Beirut’s airport out of action. I worked 34 days in a row, 20 hours a day, reporting live on television and radio, alongside dozens of colleagues who’d flown in to help cover the conflict.

I didn’t know it then, but Bourdain was there too, filming an episode of his show No Reservations. And perhaps he didn’t know it then, but Lebanon would change him forever. In the episode, he talked about how he had come to Beirut to make a happy show about food and culture in a city that was regaining its reputation as the party capital of the Middle East. Instead, he found himself filming a country that had tipped into war overnight. Filming on the day the violence broke out, he managed to capture that split second where people’s faces fell as they realized their lives had been upended.

After a few days in Beirut itself, Bourdain and his team moved to a hotel just north of the capital, closer to their eventual evacuation spot. By then, Israeli jets were bombing not only areas with a Hezbollah presence, but bridges and power plants across the country. Yet the show never became about the experience of a terrorized American stranded in a scary place. Bourdain never made it about Bourdain—Lebanon was the story. And even during the dramatic scene of his departure, on a ship surrounded by Marines and hundreds of other evacuees—Americans and dual citizens—his focus remained on Lebanon and the distraught faces of its people, leaving behind country and family, uncertain of whether they’d ever return.

Despite the trying circumstances he faced, Bourdain still managed to produce a 43-minute piece later nominated for a news and documentary Emmy. We were also nominated for our coverage of the 2006 war, albeit in a different category, and won. While Bourdain did not win (although he would go on to pick up many other Emmys), I knew his episode had told my country’s story better than I ever could. I cried when I watched it.

I met Bourdain briefly at the award ceremony in New York, and managed to mumble a few awestruck words of thanks for his work on television and as a writer. I fantasize about opening a restaurant one day, and had devoured Kitchen Confidential, Bourdain’s 2000 memoir about working as a chef in New York City’s cut-throat restaurant scene. Here was a man who had revolutionized food writing, food shows, and international reporting, all at once. But more importantly, he did it with an inimitable blend of empathy and levity, and a remarkable eye for nuance.

One might think that after Bourdain’s first trip to Lebanon, he would never go back. But four years later he returned, this time to make the fun episode he’d originally set out to produce. The 2006 experience, however, had changed him, something he talked about at length in a freewheeling 2014 interview with Blogs of War. He described that first trip as a “defining moment for the show—and some kind of crossroads … personally,” while still talking up Beirut as a “magical” place of “unbelievable possibilities.”

After Beirut in the summer of 2006, Bourdain decided it was time to tell more complicated stories, as he put it in that 2014 interview. “To stand there, day after day, useless and relatively safe by a hotel pool, looking at the people and the neighborhoods I had just been getting to know being hammered back 20 years a few short miles away was ... well... it was something,” Bourdain said. But he was also struck by “the complete disconnect between what [he] was seeing and hearing on the ground from Beirutis of all stripes and what was being reported” by the media, he said.

Bourdain developed a new approach that used conversations about food to tell the story and politics of the countries he visited in ways that hard news couldn’t. Perhaps Beirut had taught him what every Lebanese knows: that conversations around and about food allow people to let their guard down. Discussions about the secret source of your spices, or how to pound your meat, erase all differences.

And so off Bourdain went to make Parts Unknown, his next show, in Libya, Cuba, Haiti, Liberia, Iraq, Beirut again, and Israel, the West Bank, and Gaza. He was horrified by what he saw in Gaza, and even more dismayed when he was criticized for showing Palestinians doing ordinary things, like cooking, as though that meant he had chosen sides. “The world has visited many terrible things on the Palestinian people, none more shameful than robbing them of their basic humanity,” Bourdain said.

Every time I read Bourdain on Lebanon, I marvel at his ability to grasp the subtleties of a place where he’d never lived. There’s a joke about my country: If you think you understand Lebanon, someone’s just done a bad job explaining it to you. But he understood it just the way I did. “The food’s delicious, the people are awesome. It’s a party town. And everything wrong with the world is there,” he told Blogs of War. “Hopefully, you will come back smarter about the world. You’ll understand a little more about how uninformed people are when they talk about that part of the world,” he added. “You’ll come back as I did: changed and cautiously hopeful and confused in the best possible way.”

I suspect people in other countries Bourdain visited felt he understood them too, spoke for them, and saw them for who they were: ordinary people with real names, lives filled with hope, love stories, heartbreak, and laughter. He cared about people outside the lens of violence, beyond the headlines and the reductionist clichés. He broke down the barrier of the other, especially in countries with long-standing political enmity with the United States, like Iran and Cuba. Americans probably learned more about the world watching his shows than any news programs.

I don’t know why Bourdain decided to end his life. But I know he understood places and people intuitively. He grasped their pain, their intensity, and their humanity, in the way that only someone with great empathy could—the kind of empathy that comes with raw vulnerability and deep creativity, the kind that can bring with it inner demons.

In this age of dislocation and isolation, walls and travel bans, the world needs more Anthony Bourdains. Tragically, now it has none.