#He may be greedy but he has lovely little hands that are perfect for crafts. Just look at his homemade signs in game

[good-ravio-art]

I have finally decided to jump on this bandwagon. But in my usual fashion, they shall have eyebrows of mischief. Yes, he drew the eyebrows on. He forgot he could have just put fake mustaches on the place of the brows.

Link is never getting his money back either. Not satisfied with your purchase? Too bad. You're stuck with this greedy blobby man. And yes. He embroidered his shop logo on his wittle sockies. Fear him. He is ferocious and will steal your money.

[bananaink]

I’m alive! :D With some imprint AU stuff :D

And I even wrote something for it you can read under the cut!  If you don’t want to read it, here is the gist of it: After Izuku and Shigaraki fought and left both hurt, Kurogiri brought Izuku to AFO, where he gifted Izuku with his healing quirk. Also, I tried writing from AFOs perspective, which is so horribly hard and weird but very intriguing...

So, be warned if you read it! It’s not happy and has a description of an injury!

This was... unexpected. Not entirely a surprise but still... unexpected.

Keeping his hand over the small, bloody chest, All For One listens to the rattling breath in those ruined lungs. The boy couldn’t be much older than... when had he picked him up again? He can’t remember his age. Or where he had plucked him from. Just remembered the soft call of a quirk, interesting and promising enough to pique his interest, sitting in a vessel as young and mendable as he had needed it.

A gurgle, a spluttered cough and that small raw chest twitches under his palm. All For One gently lifts the boy in his arms, tipping his head back. Blood trickles out of his mouth and just a second later the body tries desperately to suck in another breath.

With his other hand not feeling for the heartbeat, All For One lets his fingertips wander over the raw flesh on his cheek, prods at the jaw bone peeking through and listens to the sounds coming from that throat. The boy isn’t conscious, of course not. Tomura has done a number on him this time and when Kurogiri had carried the dying child over, pristine suit covered in blood and voice stiffly hiding how regretful he was over it, the boy had just lost the last hold on his awareness.

All For One may had no more eyes to see with, but he didn’t need to when Kurogiri had gently handed Izuku over, one hand lingering a second too long on the curls for it to be anything but unsettled and ever so humbly informed him about the fight. He didn’t need to see how Kurogiri cared for the two boys and why he had brought Izuku to All For One instead of just disposing him somewhere. Kurogiri never neglected Tomura, followed his duties as the caregiver to a T so the chosen one could be groomed into the final chess piece - but he also never truly hid how much he’d rather have Izuku as his only ward. Until now it had never posed as a problem and Kurogiri wasn’t so dumb as to let his own feelings override his Senseis wishes. But All For One still has Izuku in his arms, not his pupil sulking somewhere.

Tomura had refused to go to his Sensei and explain himself as to why he had mortally wounded his little brother he had proclaimed to love so dearly. So Kurogiri had assumed that position, jumped at the chance to get the barely alive body to him. He informed All For One about the skill and ingenuity it had taken for Izuku to survive and almost even win the fight. How he had turned the tables for the first time, how he had learned from his observations, tried to apply and utilize them. A first try, a first real counterpunch, strong enough to force Tomura into almost killing his dear, little brother.

All For One had gotten the feeling Kurogiri had tried to upsell the child, slowly succumbing to his wounds and entirely inflicted because of his own decisions. In all these short years, Izuku had been nothing but invisible. A good distraction for the impatient Tomura, a useful little tool for the doctor, an asset for Kurogiri and his net of rumors. And when he had tripped All For Ones senses, tickling his focus for a second with one of his stupid stunts, he had made sure to duck and cover immediately. Izuku had been a quiet child until now, unassuming and harmless, the perfect antipole to a boiling Tomura, full of rage and possibility under his skin.  

But to hear that a mere little prank had escalated into this...

All For One is surprised to feel a little bit of remorse about Izukus inevitable death. He never actually thought to get attached to the boy. He was supposed to be a plaything for Tomura, distract him while he himself slowly set his plans in motion. But now he finds himself looking down on the child, breath slowly losing strength and each heartbeat coming later than the one before.

He twitches when the small hand, limply resting on his own touches his exposed wrist and is surprised to feel a small, wild quirk reaching out to him. He can feel his oldest, his strongest and most guarded quirk peeking around the mass of other ones he had layered over it. The child reaches and reaches and All For One – ever the curious one – lets him touch his quirk. It's warm and inviting before it quickly turns into a vice, desperately gripping and clawing at All For One.

It’s as if a connection opened up between them, a small freeway directly into his softest part.

A call for help, fear flooding him and pain striking his insides, agitating old wounds...

It’s the first time in years he can feel his skin break out in goosebumps.

He gently pries the foreign quirk away from his own and is surprised again when it latches on to another one on the way, rousing All For Ones echolocation awake and dousing him in information. It takes longer to get the quirk away from that one and he finds himself swatting the reaching quirk away. Watches how another breath doesn’t get enough air into the frail body and the quirk flutters, losing its grip.

He remembers why he had been fascinated with this quirk in the first place. Not only had it felt so so similar to his original one, on its own useless and pointless but born to be a complementary piece... Only to be disappointed when it wasn’t even strong enough to be used in a Nomu. Maybe he had just used it wrong? Thought about it like glue, like a puzzle piece with endless connecting possibilities like his own. But maybe it was more of a... starter. Even as he is thinking that, the quirk snags the one for levitation and he feels himself floating for a second before shutting it off. It is fascinating how agile and fast the quirk jumps around in his body, touching and clawing at quirks that long lost their individuality and almost disrupts his own carefully crafted unity.  

Despite its owner dying - a body with a heartbeat more dead than alive - All For One can still feel the quirk pawing at him, weakly prying at All For Ones defenses and flickering out like a struggling ember in a frozen fire.

So, All For One decides.

Reaching inside of him, he tugs forward a quirk, he had found and needed almost over a decade ago. It had once been strong, unpredictably wayward and hard to control, but after years of constant activity and the inevitable replacements piling over it, adding to its purpose and slowly suffocating it, it had lost its unmanageable streak.

He had meant to throw it away anyway, so what harm could it do to gift it to a body on the verge of death. Maybe even see if the healing was still as strong as it once was.

To activate All For One, tugging the quirk out and forcing it out of his fingertips resting on the bloody chest is something so natural to him that he doesn’t even think about it. Instead he feels the little flickering quirk latch onto him, almost ripping the new quirk out of his body and stuffing it inside Izuku without any assistance from All For One. The healing quirk immediately settles in the center of his chest and pours over the heart and lungs, scratches over bones and muscles. All For One tilts his head, listens and feels for it, how it buzzes like a little furnace with too much heat.

The boy spasms with a strong, sudden heartbeat and a gasp follows before the kid lays still again. All For One cradles the boy to his chest, immersed in the way the gifted quirk seems to rampage through the new body, eager to work on its own after years of being a link in a chain. He can feel the heat under his palm, the little shudders running up and down the flesh. And when he is very, very quiet, he can even hear the tissue repairing itself.

It takes a while for Izuku to reach a point where he has a steady heartbeat without a hitch, can breathe without a wet cough and stops bleeding outside of his body. And when he does, All For One can feel Izukus little fluttery quirk reaching out out out again, prodding at All For Ones barricades, trying to squeeze through the gaps and snag another quirk. Touch it. Activate it. Feel it.

He grasps it with his own and doesn’t let it go further. It wiggles in his hold, fearless.

A greedy little thing and he feels like a parent snagging hands away from the cookie jar when he squeezes it warningly, pulling, until it almost leaves its owner.

The kids eyes flutter and he chokes on nothing, pain lazing his features, body arching like a bowstring - and All For One lets it go. It retreats, scolded and intimidated and falls in place right beside the new quirk as if they had shared one body since the beginning. Izuku sags against him, major injuries taken care of but exhausted after such a deep change, breathing hard and sweat glazing his skin. Still unconscious.

Raking his hand through that wild hair, All For One leans back and checks his own body and if those little grabby hands had disrupted his carefully constructed quirk-creation. Then he reassesses his own healing capabilities and finds them satisfyingly sufficient. No immediate drawbacks and another healing quirk perfectly replaced the submitted one. Every other one falling perfectly into place. Machines around and inside of him keep on whirring, keeping him alive and he has lost not one piece of his own comfort. Oh, how far he has left death behind aready...

The boy stirs in his arms but doesn’t wake up. All For One lets his fingertips wander over the new scar on the boy's face, feels its texture and form. Can’t stop himself from laying his own hand over the shape and, again, notes how small the child is, how young, how frail...

Involuntary whines, high pitched and terrified, climb out of Izukus throat and an unexpected urge to sooth the child surprises the century old being. A faded wish for company, a dusty memory of a family and All For One hugs the child to his chest. He doesn’t rock him, doesn’t try to scare the nightmare away or ease the fear. Because the world is cruel and cold and a nightmare. All the phrases that come to mind of how everything is fine, you’re fine, nothing can hurt you, are lies. And All For One may be a monster, a killer, a curse to some and an abomination to others. But he is not a liar.

So, he does nothing when the boy wakes up in a fit of panic. He does nothing when he asks where he is, what happened, am I dead, did I die? He does nothing when the confusion and desperation turns into fear. And tears, into hyperventilation. He can feel the child slowly spiraling into a panic attack and does nothing but hold him.

But he listens. To the painful sobs and cries leaking out of him, the garbled nonsense his lips form that not even a death-scare can take away. Until they fade into terrified whimpers. Into painful sounding heaving. To exhausted hollowness.

All For One listens to all of it until Kurogiri comes and takes the child away.

[ladyleahcat]

Seraphine’s Lore Rework

So.. I have to say that I was really hyped for Seraphine. I followed her in social media and I really liked her design. But, after her lore and abilities were revealed, it just felt... out of place in Runeterra. Her in-game abilities don’t make sense with her natural gift. She doesn't have a grand purpose, or breaking point in her story that motivates her to be... you know, a champion. So, I tried to fix the lore. Please be kind, and let me know what you think (English is not my native language, so there may be some redaction mistakes). 

I don't have an extensive knowledge of the LoL universe, so here goes nothing! (I took the official one and changed a little bit too much... I kinda throw away the dream of unity between Zaun and Piltover. And knowing that the Brackerns communicated through MUSIC it´s a fact too rich to ignore. I did a little reseach and took some terms and ideas from Skarner’s short story).

As a child, Seraphine always loved music, especially her father’s lullabies. The songs were beautiful, but sad. He and Seraphine’s mother—two lifelong Zaunites—always dreamt of a better life in the City of Progress. But poor as they were, they did everything they could to give their only child a decent life in Zaun.

Leaning out the window of their hexcoustics workshop, where broken sound tech was made to play again, Seraphine sang along with the dark streets. The constant sound of the leaking pipework, working machinery and wispered conversation was her companion.

Over time, Seraphine realized she could sense songs too private, too personal, for any ordinary person to hear. And as she grew, so did the intensity of her gifts. She heard every person’s soul, loving or cruel—turning the streets she’d once loved into an overwhelming cacophony of conflicting desires. How could she make sense of the voices if none of them harmonized? Some days, she hid shivering in a corner, hands over her ears, unable to hear herself above the chaos and feeling her sanity slowly escape.

Seraphine’s parents couldn’t bear seeing her struggle. Even scraping together their savings, they knew it was not enough to help her. Risking their own safety, they made a deal with powerfull mechants in Zaun´s black market to purchase a shard of a rare hextech crystal. And so, they crafted a device that dampened her magical hearing. For the first time in years, there was silence.

Within that quiet, though, Seraphine heard something—someone. The crystal had a consciousness. But it was hard to hear, and harder to comprehend. Seraphine, awed, asked for guidance. But the crystal refused communication. She made her goal to achieve understanding of this rare soul, but her attempts were interrupted by tragedy.

The debt of the crystal was greater that what her parents could pay, and the mechants, tired of waiting, decided to claim the price in their own way. On the darkest of the nights, the rumbling sound of incessant knocking on the door accompanied by violent threats awoke the family. Taking their few possessions, they intended to flee, but, Seraphine´s father knew they would be followed. Giving his wife and daugther one last kiss, he ordered them to run and never look back, while he faced their attackers. They did, and in the distance the sounds of gunshots rang out. Seraphine was ten when she saw her dad for the last time.

Full of sorrow, the broken family got to Piltover with almost nothing. There were difficult days of cold and hunger until Sera´s mother could grab a job at a hextech workshop, as she refused to sell the crystal, see her child suffer, and let her late husband´s sacrifice go to waste.

Seraphine refused to sing the first months in Piltover, as it didn´t feel like home anymore, and it hurt to much to remember, while she also felt all their disgrace were her fault. One day, through her pain, she finally heard a distant voice. The lethargic soul hidden in the crystal slowly opened up to her. It told her stories and songs of the old brackern race. About how it once was big and respected, and how the greedy softskins destroyed it to gain the power of the crystal namestones hidden within their bodies. Horrified, Seraphine realized how the city that surrounded her was powered by the brackern, and so, she asked the voice why it had decided to share all that information with her. With a kind voice, it answered that she had a unique talent to hear souls and songs, and, that she could understand the pain of loss after what she had been through, just like it had lost its kin a long time ago. Then, the soul inside the crystal proposed a way to help them both.

The brackern knew Seraphine had a gift, and he could teach her to amplify it with magic. To give her voice power, potency and purpose. She could ease, enchant and thrill the crowds, gain fame and fortune, and give her mother a better life. But she could also inflict pain, make suffer and bring death to those who took her father away. The soul only wanted something in return.

There was an old ritual that brackerns knew about. The content of their namestones was to precious to get lost, and they designed a way to bring their race back if something ever went wrong. The proccess requiered to gather a great amount of brackern crystals in a hidden temple within the deserts of old Shurima. But it demanded a great price. The same amount of souls of a single different race in exchange for the awakening of each soul of the dormant one. The brackern wanted them to be human, as it seemed as a fair exchange. The enchanting dreamsong to fulfill the process had to be sung by a representative of each of both races. And she was the perfect candidate of her kin to do so.

Seraphine felt dread all over her body and refused, at first, to cooperate with the crystal; imagining the amount of people she would be required to slay. But as the weeks passed, and she and her mother keep on struggling to survive each day, Seraphine decided to agree to the plan. The brackern teached her a melody to seal their agreement, and with it, theirs souls were bounded to commitement, while allowing their magic to flow and combine. Their practice together begun. Each night, Seraphine grabbed her crystal and escaped to the superficial sewers of Zaun to rehearse. Slowly, she learned to manage the noise. Seraphine felt the crystal´s influence as it helped her understand how to resonate with a crowd, to sing with them, using her dampener less each day. Soon, she realized her full potential, and started to develop dangerous skills as well as the brackern teached her magic enchanting melodies of old. It took them years of practice. When she felt ready, Seraphine asked her mom for help to turn her dampener into an amplifier to test her full abilities.

The first time she performed in front of an audience, testing her skills, she was sixteen, and nervous beyond words. She choose a poor street of Piltover to start. With simple clothes and just her amplifier made of old recicled hextech, she started singing. And soon, a crowd gathered enchanted with her lovely voice and bewitching melodies, as she could take all of their personal songs and hopes to turn them into heart touching harmonies. The first day she collected so many coins that her mother and her were able to buy new things for the first time. With each passing day, the crowds were getting bigger, the profit was growing, allowing her little family to slowly achieve the life they always dreamt of. Still, something was missing—in the crowds, and in herself. She knew her father’s crime was still impune and with each song, his memory was painfully revived. She wanted justice.

Using her newfound richness, Seraphine located the merchants that took her father's life and (by her crystal's indication) collected a vast amount of a very special type of mineral, native from the Shadow Isles. Taking advantage of the cloak of night and her growing abilities, she descended into Zaun to make them pay. She infiltrated their place, lured the group of men and their leader with a beautiful melody and then took their lifes with one of the most complex ancient songs the brackern had teached her. Following the elaborate instructions, she absorbed the bodies and souls of the criminals into some shards of the minerals she brought with her, trapping them forever. These were the first souls she would need for the ritual. Taking advance of her accomplishment, she took all of the remaining brackern crystals keept by the band, and then, her mission started.

Although she felt guilty about her actions, she knew that, finally, she had made justice by her own hand, and had found a purpose for her gifts. The brackern's namestones had been waiting for a long time for someone that could listen their dreamsongs and help, and that was exactly was she was about to do. She was born for it. Seraphine knew there was no way she could take all of the brackern crystals in Runeterra, and that not all human souls are aware of the horrors behind the powerfull fuel of hextech, but there were enough gilty ones that she could execute.

Armed with a platform to keep her precious brackern crystals hidden and safe, and also her trapped human victims, she has become the premier star in both Piltover and Zaun. In the public eye, she uses her playful apearance and beautiful voice to enchant the crowds and win their hearts and favor, while she listens for the brackerns old voices slowly awakening inside their cores and calling out for her, singing gladly their dreamsongs. In the shadows, it´s her duty to retrieve them to safety and trap the souls of those who are greedy enough to collect them. She knows one day, she will gather enought of them to make the journey into Shurima´s desert, looking for the one called Skarner that the ancient spirits talk about and being able to, at last, fulfill her destiny.

(I know it’s not that great, but let me know your thoughts and suggestions :3 ) Disclaimer: These characters belong to Riot Games. I don’t own them, I just did this for fun.

[kryptsune]

Fellswap {FXS, CXP} (UPDATED: 4/1/2020)

🌼It is an interesting story with Fellswap because I had no ideas for it only for it to turn out into one of my favorites and most extensive. I added the divider because this one is seriously one of the craziest and most fleshed out AUs besides WTU of course. This one has a lot to it so feel free to ask any questions you may have! Enjoy! If you enjoy it spread it around so I can gauge the interest! 💙

Alternate “Nicknames” Info: 

Sans: Crimson- Also goes by The Crimson Lord or Bloody Lord. Crimson the harsh ruler of the lands of Tundra and known to be a loyal “dog” to the Queen. His eyes used to be an icy blue but now they are primarily red. If you manage to pull that old him out then his eyes may turn blue again. It astounds him when Frisk causes him to enter this state. A dog without a leash rather. He is frigid towards real affection/emotion unless he has the goal to manipulate you. The only exception would be that of his brother. His pride and ego are legendary and rarely ever takes no for an answer. He is nicknamed the bloody lord for a reason as he has a vampiric nature. His love of the finer things in life leaves him very possessive and greedy as well. His kingdom, being the closest to the Capital, is the most lavish. He is not easily amused, however, if you are able to amuse him he will most likely keep you alive until your amusement wears out. He is also the younger of the two brothers.

 Papyrus: Grimm- Crimson’s older brother though even with his stature most think the opposite. He could be classified as the wild one. His eyes are usually a golden/yellow color looking more like pupils then the typical skeleton blank sockets. When he is more in his feral mode those sockets will turn black with that blazing yellow pupil. His eyes in this state resemble that of a wolf. He will be more docile unless it comes to the hunt. That is really when he is in predator mode. Grimm is also incredibly needy and does not care about the state of his captees which he usually brings to his brother. He is submissive to Crimson but that does not mean he will tolerate being treated like a dog. He is still the older brother after all. He is a flirt just to get what he wants and he loves it when others fight back. Unlike his brother, Grimm could care less about all the finery all he cares about is the pleasure, fun, and thrill. Grimm is curious by nature so if you draw his attention you may survive long enough to get on his good side. He also has a well known sweet tooth though his brother tries to discourage him from the habit. The running joke is that he had to have his canine teeth replaced with gold because the sugar rotted the true teeth. That, of course, is nothing but a lie. 

Chara: Fuji- Fuji is the twin sister of Frisk and the two could not be further opposites. She is mild-mannered and easily spooked. Her kind heart is often betrayed but she continues to struggle onward despite that. Her physical appearance forces her to cover her left eye due to horrific damage. Under those ebony bangs, she has a scar that is the opposite of Grimms. It is one of the reasons she first draws his interest (that and chocolate). Grimm eventually calls her his Chara-mell apple which is a reference to her name as well as how sweet her personality is. Unlike her sister, Fuji is relatively weak which is why Grimm becomes her protector. She is his little dove.  

Frisk: Frisk is known as the “bad” girl type. She picks fights that she knows she can win and likes to get into trouble. She is rather brash but if she sees a fight she knows she cannot win then she will not take that on. The monsters are one such factor of this. She adores her siblings and will do anything to keep her safe even if that means self-sacrifice. She is sassy and overconfident which makes her a perfect match for Crimson. Eventually, he refers to her as his little huntress as she takes just as much joy harming humans as the monsters do. They hurt her sister and therefore they must pay with blood. Her standoffish attitude is also a huge bonus for Crimson as he gets to learn more about her and break down those walls. They both do that for each other. She enjoys Crimson’s darker side rather than his gentle side. Aside from that only she and his closest family ever see. 

Undyne: Undyne is the Royal scientist and resides in her lab in Windyspires. A place that revolves around aviation. Undyne has a fascination for any kind of flying machines and is more an engineer than a scientist. In order to keep up with the hunt and help her Lord, Alphys, she creates a series of drone-like devices that monitor the “air” of the entire Underworld. It also doubles as a camera for those monsters not participating but watching the hunt take place. She has a very steampunk vibe to her work and likes to wear a pair of aviator goggles at all times. Her favorite type of anime is mech like Gundam or Voltron. She will occasionally wear her lab coat but she prefers her more casual attire. Unlike the rest of the monsters, Undyne does not directly participate in the hunts but rather helps Alphys instead. She has sworn off genetic or soul experimentation but no one knows the true reason why.  

Alphys: The Lord of Windyspires Alphys is the ultimate warrior type. She will do anything to win a battle which includes a little extra help from her scientist (eventually Lady) Undyne. She is the centurion of the Guard and usually participates fully in the hunts. Her desire for revenge and victory is something that drives her forward and takes extra delight in adrenaline that comes with the hunts. Just like Crimson, she is a formidable foe and usually brags that she will one day rule his kingdom which means their egos butt heads frequently. Alphys loves the spectacle even crafting an arena on the border of Magmire and Windy spires dedicated to combat. The weak cannot be a part of the Guard. She much prefers hand to hand combat and will rarely resort to any type of projectile attacks. She was the youngest sibling of 5 brothers and beat up frequently by her brothers which only made her stronger. She vowed never to be weak again though that mindset has made her into the bully she so sought justice for earlier in life. She likes to binge anime with Undyne when it is all Shonen. {probably a masochist… definitely a sadist}

Muffet: Muffet works side by side with her husband and Lord Grillby. Their kingdom is that of Magmire. They are known for their industrial prowess creating weapons and armor for the elite of the Underworld. She takes great pride in her side job which happens to be the only confectionary in the entire kingdom making hard candies and gummies. She is known to indulge in Grimm's sweet tooth habit as well. She appears kind on the outside but she is truly manipulative especially to those that are unfortunate enough to be caught in her web. Her original concept was that of Hansel and Gretel with her being the “witch”. She dresses in bright inviting colors which is a huge contrast to the rest of the monsters. Muffet also has the ability to spin sugar into horrifying amalgamations when she harvests the souls of captured humans. Human/ monster no more these creatures will do as she commands even sometimes devouring their targets. Just add a pinch of monster dust, a little bit of candy, and some soul.   

Grillby: Grillby is the Lord of Magmire. Unlike most of the Lords in his position, he does not sit on his throne but rather helps and works with his wife in the confectionary. He finds it relaxing though he does still have to attend to. Grillby is more laid back than most almost the opposite of someone who is sugar high. He is calm and collected which makes him a suitable warrior though he has placed those days behind him. His hobby is to work on new blacksmithing techniques even if his kingdom claims that is below him. His throne room is covered in metal work such as blades and armor only adding to the stigma of the industrial kingdom. He is not one for killing as he feels that there is no honor in such an act. He will send his captees back to the Capital or to whoever is willing to pay. He does not agree with his wife's tactics however he knows that he can not change that mindset and doesn’t press for it.   

Toriel: Known as the Ice Queen possibly due to her frozen kingdom or her attitude toward any and all life. Unlike the original UT Toriel, The ice Queen no longer can use fire magic as her soul has frozen over. She has ice abilities and magic in its place. There are rumors that she can cause one's heart and soul to become numb just being in her presence. She is what one would consider a despot as she does not care for much. Her grief causes her to lash out at others and is called by the lesser monsters, the Mad Queen. She is unaware that her son is still living and refuses to speak to her husband. Even the mention of his name can send her into a spiral of rage.  

Asgore: The former King of the Underworld Asgore was banished to The Ruins after Toriel’s maddened rage. He is kind and gentle though he knows his own limits. He is not a pushover. His time in the Ruins has shown him how insane his wife has become and with the help of his son they take care of the humans fortunate enough to make it to them. He does his best but even he has moments that force is required as much as he hates the violence. He is still a king through and through ruling over his own “kingdom” as the caretaker.  

Asriel:  The former Prince of the Underworld and son of Asgore and Toriel. Asriel was presumed dead but survived only to escape to The Ruins. His father comes upon him later and they work to help the humans that have been forced to suffer under the tyranny of the Queen. Asriel is mild-mannered and very polite. Even without his station he still acts like a kind Prince. He will stand up for what is right regardless of his own possible sacrifice. When he meets Fuji he sees a lot of himself and he takes on the big brother role for her. In conclusion (Precious Goat boy). 

Main Plot Synop: 

The Surface: 

The surface has been overrun by corrupt leaders. It is very much the concept of big brother. They are a council that presides over the affairs of the world. If you are seen as a threat you will be immediately thrown into “prison” without a trial. They hold occasional public trials in the guise of being fair. Just as WTU claims, the very concept of magic is a threat to them so those that have it are quickly disposed of but leaders don’t always do the dirty work themselves. No. In fact, they use another source by means of execution…the monsters. 

More accurately it is very similar to the idea of throwing your enemies into a kind of gladiatorial arena. It is not technically considered an execution if circumstances lead to death. The humans are not stupid they know what is going on. Some believe in rebellion against the state and some wonder if the monsters could fix their corrupt world. Either way, the corruption continues and they are not above tossing innocents into “the pit” if it suits their agenda. 

“The Pit” (aka the Underworld/Underground):

The underworld is broken up into different factions by location. The only location without a faction or any type of ruler is The Ruins, because of its size and its isolation this is where humans try to reach for some form of Salvation. Asgore, the caretaker, has made it into an encampment for those that have fallen (the innocent ones). It is almost like a refugee camp. Unfortunately very few make it to Asgore’s safe haven. He does his best. Poor goat dad. He is not like canon Toriel however as he will use violence if necessary as he knows that humans are simply using them as tools to get rid of who they deem criminal. There are signs of old campfires, broken tents, and habitation. Before The Ruins is, of course, the main factions. “Snowdin” is the beginning and Crimson is one of the most powerful in the Underworld. 

LOCATION SWAPS {INFO in order}: 

New Home= The Capital

Snowdin= Magmire 

Waterfall= Windyspires 

Hotland= Tundra 

The Underworld is backward to its original layout. The humans end up trapped in The Capital instead and they have to make their way to The Ruins to escape. So it would go like this: The Capital -> Tundra ->Windyspires ->Magmire. The closer the faction to the capital the higher the rank in other words because both Grimm and Crimson live in Tundra. Crim is the lord making him one of the most notorious. He is known for being a loyal “dog” to his queen. Whether that be out of loyalty or self-preservation is unclear. 

Each faction has a lord or lady that rules over it. The ones loyal to Toriel’s (As a side note she is known as the ice queen) regime and their supposed way of life. This also means the closest ones receive the most benefits. Tundra is the one with the most prestige and of course other monsters are trying to strip that title from its current holder, The Crimson Lord. Due to Crimson’s loyalty, he is almost exempt from any wrongdoing in the Queens’ eyes which means he can do pretty much anything he wants. Which is dangerous and I will explain why in a bit.

I have a faction ruler list sitting here so I am going to add that to this as well. They are as follows, of course, this does not account for potential power struggles during the story: 

The Capital -> QUEEN: Toriel Dreemurr

Tundra -> Lord: Crimson 

Lady: N/A

Windyspires -> Lord? (I mean she wouldn’t want to be called a lady SHE IS TOO TOUGH FOR THAT!): Alphys 

Lady: Undyne

Magmire->Lord: Grillby

Lady: Muffet

“It’s Hunt or be Hunted”: 

The motto of this verse. After so many centuries of humans being disposed of by monsters, they become aggressive. In addition, the anger toward all of humanity begins to fuel violence in the monsters. The hunts deter monster on monster violence. It also adds fuel to Queen Toriel’s fire that one of the humans that fell down the first time killed her son. This, of course, is a lie as Asriel seeks refuge with his father in The Ruins. He helps as much as he can watch his mother lose her mind from afar. It saddens him but he refuses to be a part of this new world order. That is when they realized that humans weren’t just falling into the Underworld. They were throwing the worst of the worst. Their undesirables, criminals, and anyone that dare went against their own agenda. 

At first, they just captured them and held them in the Capitals network of catacombs but then some began to escape causing damage across their “New Home”. Toriel wouldn’t allow it. A proposal turns it into a game of cat and mouse. The humans are detained and released and then the monsters hunt them down. It used to be about protection but now it’s become a sick twisted death game. The forests of Tundra are littered with traps and deadly pitfalls along with the rest of the locations. 

A Human's Fate:

Not all the humans that are being thrown into the pit are criminals. The monsters of higher rank occasionally take humans they deem worthy to be servants or slaves. It depends on the monster or the rank but at least those humans are still alive. The hunt is an unspoken death sentence. One monster, in particular, seems to have an interest in bending humans to his will and that is Crimson. The conditions vary widely as some treat their humans well and others poorly. Crimson is known to go through humans quickly due to his bloodthirsty nature. It’s not a common occurrence. In fact, the Queen frowns in distaste over the very notion. The only ones that are spared of any of these fates are the children. Toriel is even more disgusted by humans sentencing their young to die. She takes care of the children that have fallen. In total, she has taken care of 5 children in total. 

The Brothers Grimm:

Grimm is the wilder of the two brothers and is very much a predator type. His name is derived from the mythos of the Grimm or Black dog. I wanted to keep that dark omen symbology in both his name and design. He slinks around in the shadows so that the black dog aspect is not far off. He also loves watching from trees.  He enjoys the catching and hunting aspect of his job and even plays around with his “toys” when he finds them. He will specifically call anyone “chew toy” in a mocking kind of way. That does not mean though that he will not spare you if he catches you. He is naturally curious by things. He also has a little skele tail too. Unlike his brother, Grimm doesn’t really have an ego he just finds his job fun. He is like a giant untamed wolf. Grimm has a love of sweets as well. 

He admires his brother but he is not bound to his brother. In other words, this is not a master, dog dynamic. He is, however, the more accepting of the two. If he is asked to do something he doesn’t approve of then he most likely won’t. Also just because he has the whole puppy thing going on doesn’t mean he isn’t smart and cunning. Again he likes to play around with those he finds sometimes not even dragging them back to his brother for a while. If you are a threat he will kill you but if you’re not you can probably get on his good side. If he thinks you are cute he will probably flirt with you too. He is not beyond that. He plays the part of the dog quite well.

Crimson is more sophisticated. He doesn’t go out on “hunts” himself often as he has a faction to rule over but those brought to him will see first hand that he is an insufferable flirt. He is prideful, egotistical, and commanding. He also has a bad habit of keeping mementos from those he deems worthy (what those are… you don’t want to know). He is stern with his brother and seems very outwardly cold to most unless he is playing up his charm. He is not someone you want to make angry as Toriel considers him to also be the Bloody Lord. His weapon of choice is a scythe. His drinks of choice are red wine and champagne specifically the pink kind. Crimson’s incisor teeth also have that vampire point to them. They are longer than the rest of them. There is far more to Crimson than just a ruthless skeleton lord.

The Ultimate Unlikely Hunters: 

This backstory will involve Grimm and Crimson’s unusual infliction and conditions. They were both experiments under Gasters research team in the beginning. Having been weak monsters as children unable to gain any LV they had to think of a way to survive. They did not seem to possess the ability to wield magic. Tired, injured, and without hope, Papyrus carried his baby brother all the way to Windyspires banging weakly on the metal plated doors. The Royal scientist at the time, Dr. W.D. Gaster, took the boys in. Unlike Darrius FS Gaster cares about the two brothers. He gives them a choice if they want to become stronger as their souls are not capable of it on their own. Grimm takes the offer hoping it will save his baby brother offering to be the first test subject. 

At the time Unyne was nothing but a teenage prodigy lab tech watching the events of soul manipulation take place. At first, the process works. Pap is able to conjure new bone-like attacks with magic and all seems to be well. The results cause Gaster to start the experiment on Sans next. By this time complications have already begun to show signs. Pap seems to be more short-tempered and aggressive even with little things. His mood swings cause him to lock himself up being monitored day by day. 

Sans has never seen his gentle brother this aggressive before forcing himself to look away as they have to strap him down for a follow-up experiment. He tries to help his brother the best he can and takes on the older brother role due to Pap’s inability to think clearly. Even he is starting to change. The longer this situation continues the more Sans becomes numb to the feeling. That is until one day Pap’s condition takes a turn for the worse causing him to lash out, bones shifting and elongating. He drops to the ground in agony transforming into a skeletal beast like wolf tearing the entire lab apart. 

Sans, on the other hand, continues to take care of his brother but he too is feeling some strange side effects to the soul manipulation. It turns out that each monster’s ancestry buried deep within their soul draws upon a primal power. Not all monsters were about love and compassion in the beginning. Bringing this primal trait to the surface causes adverse physical and biological changes within the two. Sans is more gradual as he starts to be in immense pain. His soul struggles to keep itself together but even he snaps lunging at a lab tech. He zeros in on their soul pulling it from their chest and sinking his teeth into it, draining it of its life force. The pain is suddenly gone. He realizes that he needs souls essence and power to keep that hunger/thirst at bay. It gives him extraordinary abilities. He remembers a long time ago reading about a monster that humans had such a fear of, the vampire. 

As he comes into power he realizes that humans concentrated soul traits are even better than monster souls. The blood has a high concentration of soul essence which sustains humans as well as monsters (yes the monsters bleed in this). His brother learns to control this new beast within himself but not before he nearly claws his brother's socket out, hence the signature scar. Crimson has scars on his entire body from trying to reason with his once feral brother. They slowly work their way up to eventually ruling the second most powerful kingdom in the entire Underworld with exception to The Capitol. The constant hunts keep both the brother's conditions satisfied. No one is quite sure how the two skeleton brothers became this way after Gaster’s disappearance, all except Undyne.   

The Story:  

There are two siblings that fall into this world both twins. One is Frisk and the other is Chara. Since this is a swap, Frisk is more aggressive of the two and highly protective of her sister. She tends to be classified as the “bad girl” type. Chara is the sweet and kind one that will abstain from any violence at all. Frisk is not the usual Chara swap because I want them to find their place amongst the world. She has no problem using violence as a means of protection and self-defense but she won’t actively look for a fight if she thinks she can’t win. The monsters are one such variable in the unwinnable category. 

Sadly they have magic within their souls hence the soul traits. They both also have the same soul outwardly, Determination, however, there is one other trait that is housed within their soul that makes them very different. Frisk’s is perseverance and Chara’s is kindness. As usual, the leaders of the Ebott Empire are threatened by their potential for magical abilities and as such are sentenced to be executed. Thus they become part of the hunt. 

Frisk is the first to be captured by none other than Crimson and Chara is found by Grimm. It is strange that Crimson is not his usual self in their circumstances as he can tell, unlike so many others that they have captured in the past, that they are very different. Grimm can’t bring himself to harm Chara due to her innocence and Crimson enjoys Frisks headstrong and sassy attitude. In other words *slaps hands on table* you get a two for one. One Papyrus X Chara and one Frisk X Sans. Both the twins are of adult age.

Eventually much to Crimson’s reluctance they decide to help them escape as unlike most of the AU the monsters have no problem staying this way. Not all of them agree but the Lords certainly love their titles and don’t want to give up that power…that is until Frisk mentions that all those horrible corrupted humans on the surface could be like one giant hunt. In which case Crimson is all for. Grimm has his own motivations enraged that the humans did something so terrible to Chara but he would not sacrifice everything to get to the surface because of that vendetta. 

They make it to Asgore who has all the souls as the Barrier is in The Ruins. He tries to get them to stay instead of sacrificing one of them for their freedom. It’s obvious that the brothers actually don’t want either of them to die. 

As Crimson says: “What is another century or two? We have all the time in the world.”  

Frisk and Chara become integrated into the Underworld and though Grimm continues his hunting he doesn’t want Chara to witness it. Crimson just has Frisk as his little huntress. It is unclear if they will make it out of the Underworld in this AU. It really depends upon how I feel the story would make the most sense and I think having the two sisters happy and accepted into their lives is all they really wanted. They were considered “monsters” on the surface so why return there? Frisk wants to watch it burn… of course… for putting her precious sister through all this. 

DO NOT REPOST MY WORK WITHOUT MY PERMISSION IT IS NOT FOR YOUR USE. IF YOU LIKE MY WORK PLEASE REBLOG INSTEAD! It helps me so much! It makes such a difference.💙 

[pandemonshq]

Welcome, Destinee, please grab your stake on your way to your tumblr to play Daphne Greengrass here at Pandemons. We were thrilled to see how you created a brilliant family history and dynamic for Daphne—the divorce, her family connections, and how her history feeds into her choices. And her job as a translator? Inevitably going to get her (and you) broiled in more trouble than expected here.

Your request for michaela conlin. // jessica henwick FCs have been accepted.

OOC

Name: destinee.

Preferred Pronouns: she/her, they/them

Age: twenty-four.

Timezone: est.

Activity Level: if you to ask me for one of those out of ten scores i’d probably give myself about a six. i really enjoy roleplaying but i have some chronic problems that occasionally put me out of commission. i’m typically online in the late afternoon and at night.

IN CHARACTER INFORMATION

Character’s Name: daphne greengrass.

Bloodstatus: pureblood.

Birthday: october 4th, 1979.

Gender and Sexuality: cis female, bi-romantic, demisexual.

Former Hogwarts House: slytherin.

Infection: no.

Faceclaim: michaela conlin. // jessica henwick.

SHORT HEADCANON TOPICS

Occupation:

translator.

daphne has always been a bright girl, though she was never the type to flaunt it. she was never the type to draw unnecessary attention to herself, preferring to slip by in the shadows - she was perfectly content to let others take the spotlight, and the blame.

still, she did love to know things. she was quite fond of history, and loved to know the stories behind mysterious artifacts and lost treasures. on sleepless nights, she has always been found curled up in the corner of a library, reading whatever happened to catch her eye.

it was her desire to read books and inscriptions that lead to the discovery of her talent for languages. she taught herself what she could for awhile, and then she turned to her parents, begging for lessons in any language that could be taught. her parents shrugged their shoulders, and let their daughter do as she pleased. unsatisfied with simply learning french and german and russian and latin, she threw herself into the study of ancient and beast languages, and found herself among one of the few with an affinity for such things.

daphne dreamed of putting her talent to good use - of traveling the world writing journals, or translating ancient inscriptions for cursebreakers. but then her parents announced that they’d found her a husband, and daphne put her dreams on the shelf to be the lovely, loyal housewife she was expected to be.

one of the first things she did after her divorce was finalized was dust off those dreams of hers. daphne has translated ancient texts and read the inscriptions of golden sarcophagi. she has translated for ministry officials as they delicately negotiated peace with magical beings, and been the helping hand to reunite frightened tourists with their lost children. she’s quite proud of her skill and of her work.

Marital Status/Ships:

daphne remembers clearly how it felt, to sit in the common room surrounded by happy, giggling girls and not understand. whenever her friends would gossip about boys, or gush over an attractive stranger, daphne would sit in silence. she learned fairly quickly that her friends found it odd that she didn’t seem to like boys, so she learned to smile and pretend to get it, but most of the time she just didn’t. when one of her friends had confided in her that she liked girls, daphne wondered if that was perhaps why she didn’t get it … but then, she found she didn’t really understand when her friends gossiped about girls, either.

pansy would talk about draco more often than anyone wanted to hear, and for long time, it went in one ear and out the other for daphne. but then she met him, and an offhand remark became the odd conversation became a friendship. and daphne finally started to get it. because she liked draco. more than she liked anyone - or, more accurately, differently than she liked anyone else. the trouble was that pansy liked draco, and pansy was the leader of their little clique. daphne had always been taught the importance of social circles, and so she never said a word.

daphne met a girl in the library in her fifth year; a ravenclaw with a thirst for knowledge that rivaled her own and a delightfully snarky attitude. they started dating in sixth year, and their relationship held strong through the turmoil and tragedy of the war and it’s aftermath. but then her parents reminded her that she wasn’t a child anymore, and it was time she started looking for an appropriate match. daphne crushed her own heart in her hands and ended the relationship, and she quietly fears that she’ll never recover.

daphne is still raw and aching when she finds out about astoria and draco. it brings a flash of old feelings to the surface, but once more, she stomps it down. she puts on a smile, and she supports her sister at every turn. it isn’t too long after that her parents nudge her in the direction of the wizard they’ve deemed her proper match - a frenchman with a handsome face and a flawless pedigree. daphne hopes something will spark between them, but it never really does. she marries him anyway, because it’s what her parents want.

the marriage is a disaster. they have nothing in common, except for regrets. they argue over what restaurants to visit, how daphne should do her hair, whether daphne should be allowed to work. he sleeps around, but truthfully, she couldn’t care less. the moment she finds out she’s pregnant, she’s more than happy to kick him out of her bed entirely. she’s only obligated to supply him one heir, after all.

their daughter is born, and daphne falls in love. cynthia instantly becomes the center of her whole world. her husband is not so impressed. he insists he wants a son, but daphne isn’t having any of it. the relationship devolves even further, and daphne sees less and less of her husband as the months roll by. cynthia is three years old when things hit a boiling point. her husband strikes her during an argument, and daphne is enraged. she draws her wand and forcibly hurls him out of the house, and sends his things flying after him. daphne will put up with a lot of things for the sake of her family’s reputation, but not this. he returns to france, and daphne at last feels free.

romance is the last thing on daphne’s mind these days. a single mother with a career doesn’t have much time to fuss about those things, especially when they’ve never been particularly fussed in the first place. now that her sister has fallen ill, she has even less time to think about it. she has to be there for her daughter, her sister, her nephew, and for draco. just because she isn’t thinking about it, though, doesn’t mean it might not surprise her. old flames and new could be hiding around any corner.

MULTIPARAGRAPH OR MULTI-POINT TOPICS

Family

Father | Nestor Greengrass. the greengrass family is one of the truest, purest bloodlines around, and sure, that’s something to be proud of - but more importantly, that’s something to take advantage of. nestor is as crafty as a salesman can be, and he knows how to market himself and the shop. he’s carefully crafted and maintained the ideal reputation; the perfect balance of shady and trustworthy. money is truly his main motivation for nearly everything he does. he’s always encouraged his children to be intelligent, sly, and greedy. he’s certainly a selfish man, but one that does care for his family. whether or not he cares about them more than he cares for himself, though, is rather hard to tell.

Mother | Meilin Greengrass. meilin has certain expectations. there are ways that people should and should not behave. there are obligations that people must fulfill, and duties they must complete. of course people are not perfect. little mistakes may be made from time to time. the young will stray from the path every now and again, but they simply need to be guided back into their place. she has always fully expected her daughters to fall perfectly in line - and the fact that things are so imperfect? that their perfect perfect reputation has been blemished? it infuriates her.

Sister | Astoria Malfoy. daphne’s relationship with her family is a bit … complicated, but she has always loved her little sister with all of her heart. from the time they were small, daphne has always tried to look after astoria, to be the best big sister she can be. she’s always wanted to be someone astoria could look up to, and it’s motivated her a lot in her life. when she found out her sister had fallen ill, she was devastated.

Daughter | Cynthia Greengrass. daphne never really thought much about being a mother. she supposes she’s always been a bit mother; she can recall the many times her sister would roll her eyes and say, “okay, mom” or the way pansy would sometimes groan and snap “you aren’t my mother.” she’s always known that she would have kids one day. it was one of her responsibilities, after all. continue the family line. but she still didn’t really think about it. even throughout her pregnancy, daphne didn’t really think of herself as a mother. she felt more like a bloated bus than anything else. but then she held her daughter in her arms for the first time, and it felt like the world shifted. her daughter is her sun and her sky and all of the stars. she would do anything to keep cynthia safe, and to make her happy. and if anyone were to threaten her sweet, wonderful little girl … she wouldn’t rest until they paid for it.

Childhood/Hogwarts

most people would say knockturn alley is no place for children, but to daphne, it’s simply home. she had spent her early years young and fearless, running down cobblestone streets, dodging the hags that often lurked in the crowds, admiring the dark artifacts her father sold, spying on the illicit clinic her mother ran. perhaps it warped her perspective a bit; perhaps she doesn’t always fear things that she should; but no one can deny that it’s blessed her with nerves of steel.

daphne is a little surprised to be sorted into slytherin. she had thought herself a bit more like her ravenclaw mother than her slytherin father, but she fits easily into the ranks. daphne attaches herself to pansy parkinson within the first few weeks of their first year. pansy is a bigot and a bully and a pureblood, and daphne knows immediately she wants to behind her and not in her way.

daphne makes friends and she gets good grades, but she’s never the center of attention, and that’s the way she likes it. it’s much easier to get away with breaking rules when people are paying more attention to the troublemakers; and people are much more forgiving when they have a worse example to compare you to.

hogwarts becomes a home away from home for her. she finds a sense of peace and simple joy there that she just doesn’t have at home. she loves her parents, she truly does, but that doesn’t mean they were truly good parents. her mother’s presence feels almost crushing sometimes; like her expectations have a physical weight and they’ve perched themselves right on daphne’s lungs and when she fails it feels like she can’t breathe. no one looks at her like they’re waiting for her to fail at hogwarts.

that peace is shattered by voldemort’s return. she watches the people around her change; sees the way the pressure warps and twists them, the way some of them just crack and chip away. suddenly it feels like everyone is watching everyone all the time; constantly on a knife’s edge. she knows what side she’s supposed to be on, but she can’t help but just want it all to end, no matter who wins.

daphne tries to be the sturdy one. she tries to be there for people, do whatever little thing she can for them. sit with them, talk with them, bring them tea, steal sweets from the kitchens. she knows how the rest of the school has started to feel about slytherins - even the ones who don’t deserve it. if no one else will be here for them, she’ll do it all herself.

Post Hogwarts

daphne is exhausted and the world around her is in shambles. she tries to be there for her family and for her friends - for the ones that are left, as they try to put the pieces back together. it doesn’t feel like enough. she doesn’t feel the same anymore. she can’t imagine how the others must feel. the ones who were truly in the middle of it.

she finds happiness in the brief moments she can spend alone with her girlfriend, just the two of them, peaceful and quiet. her mother tells her it’s about time she end her little fling, and daphne’s heart sinks to the floor. her mother reminds her that she must have known this relationship wouldn’t last long. her girlfriend was a half-blood, after all, and not fit for marriage. daphne does as she’s told. her girlfriend doesn’t understand, and daphne can’t blame her.

she sinks into a deep depression after the messy end of her relationship, and finds that she can’t stand to be alone with her thoughts - or with her mother. she starts making anonymous donations to charities and to projects to help rebuild. she throws herself back into learning languages and reading books. she avoids the world.

it’s astoria’s announcement of her engagement to draco that shakes daphne out of her daze. she has a few mixed emotions. it feels a little odd to see her sister engaged to her old crush; it feels a bit painful to see her sister engaged at all, after the end of her relationship. but more than anything … astoria didn’t tell her. all of their lives they had trusted each other with everything, and yet her baby sister hadn’t told her she was going to be engaged? for a moment, she’s angry. and then she realizes that it’s her fault. she’d been pushing her sister away without even realizing it.

daphne puts all of her energy into working through her depression after that. she’s determined to be there for her sister, come hell or high water. she reappears in the social scene, starts to go out with friends again, and ignores her mother a little less.

she’s introduced to her future husband not too long after her sister’s engagement, and they attend the wedding together. astoria doesn’t like him much, but daphne thinks he’s tolerable, and their mother seems very keen that they date. daphne regrets not taking her sister’s doubts more seriously, looking back on it.

daphne is a reluctant and miserable housewife for the course of their marriage. the birth of their daughter brightens her life; she loves being a mother. but she only hates her husband more.

the day her divorce was finalized she used her wand to send up fireworks in the street and laughed like she hadn’t laughed in years. she was free, and goddamnit, she was going to be happy.

she loves her work, and she loves her daughter. being a single working mother suits her far better than being a married housewife ever did. she’s happier than she’s ever been in her life … and then her sister falls ill, and daphne wonders if the sky will ever stop crashing down on her.

Current

daphne only really has one priority these days, and that priority is her family’s well-being.

daphne tries not to worry cynthia. she’s only a child, after all. she should be enjoying her time at hogwarts, not weighed down by tragedy. she knows she can’t keep cynthia completely in the dark; she’s a smart kid, and she’s very close to her cousin. still, daphne can ease her mind with sugar coated words and gentle promises … even if they so often taste like bitter lies.

whenever daphne has the time to read, she spends it pouring over anything and everything that might possibly help her sister. her reputation and skill set gives her access to a lot of unusual material, and she hopes one day it will help her dear sister.

she spends a lot of time with her daughter and with scorpius, always happy to look after her nephew or offer a helping hand to her sister and her husband. she loves scorpius as much as she loves her own daughter, and she’s promised her sister she would look after him.

she’s also promised to look after draco, and that’s proving much more of a challenge. she worries about him getting into trouble, crossing the wrong line, catching the wrong person’s attention. she wants to protect him, like she promised she would, but at the same time - how could she ever ask him to take a step back? she’s as desperate to cure her sister as he is; but she doesn’t want to lose him in the process, either.

Plots

i would love for daphne’s talents as a translator to come in handy for a plot, or plots. it’s an interesting passion of hers, and i love the idea of people coming to her to translate old writing, or ancient inscriptions, or people or magical beings.

daphne was the absolute mom of slytherin, but she also dropped off the map for awhile after the war. i would love to have her reconnect with old friends, or at least try to. bonus points if daphne still gets to mother them.

give me messy, complicated relationships please. romantic and platonic. i’m here for that shit.

potentially interested in the absolute panic of daphne being temporarily infected but we’ll see how things go.

daphne’s got a lot of money to throw around and i like the idea of someone approaching her to invest in something - some kind of charity, big event, business. they would need to win her over, of course, but it’d be interesting to have daphne really show her social/business/money skills.

daphne’s wanted to have more kids ever since she had cynthia, so that might come up at some point. whether she goes through with it, and how she goes about it, would depend entirely on how things end up happening in the roleplay.

Other

usually i have a pinterest board read before hand but it’s 2 am right now and i need to crash, so here is where the pinterest board will be. hopefully i put some stuff in it before y'all see it but if not … i’ll link it again later or something.

[kalluun-patangaroa]

Brett Anderson: ‘I was trying to look at myself as a specimen’

by Helen Cullen

The Irish Times, 28 September 2019

Suede singer discusses his second memoir and how it swings from candour to euphoria

Brett Anderson’s book avoids exploitation of those that travelled within his orbit, with no trace of gossip, blame or exposé. Photograph: Paul Khera 

Here he comes: the beautiful one, with the book in his hand he vowed never to write. It was inevitable. Those who read his first memoir, 2018’s Coal Black Mornings, the bildungsroman which so elegantly deconstructed the childhood, adolescence and ultimate creation of the artist, will understand why it was so irresistible for him; Brett Anderson is a poet who discovered songwriting first.

Renowned for lyrics that elevate the banal, bleak ephemera of ordinary life to something extraordinary, Anderson says he finds “the iconography of mundanity inspiring. I look at a chain link fence and see romance there.” On this occasion, he has taken something extraordinary – cultural superstardom – and made it uniquely ordinary with its grounded presentation.

Once he had embraced the opportunities that writing his own memoir gave him; reclaiming truth from the tabloids, re-evaluating perceived successes and failures, creating the official record of Suede’s history, and all with the precision prose and eclectic turns of phrase that were synonymous with his lyrics, he was destined to keep going.

The first book was written for his son so that he would know his father in a way that is profoundly difficult for most of us. This time around, the book exists because Anderson loved writing Coal Black Mornings so much. “I thought it was really interesting what I did with it,” he explains, “so I couldn’t resist picking at the scab, although I know the experience of publishing this book will be different because of the period of my life that it deals with.”

Charting the ascent of Suede in the 1990s through the halcyon moments of appearing on the cover of Melody Maker before ever releasing a single, to the gut-wrenching ultimate implosion of the band, Anderson doesn’t shy away from either the glorious or the gory. The book ends backstage at the Graham Norton show with the band splitting up; the perfect moment to close as Anderson is unafraid to hold failure up to the light. As he says, “Sometimes it’s not the sparkling moments that define us but the darker ones leading up to them.”

Absence of exploitation

And yet he manages to achieve something unique for the realm of rock biography; the book exhibits a total absence of exploitation of those that travelled within his orbit, avoiding any trace of gossip, blame or exposé. All the revelations are his own; the secrets just his to tell. As such he is dispirited in anticipation of the inevitable trawling through by some for salacious quotes to satisfy a greediness for controversy.

“I know that a gossipiness is going to be projected on to it and that every review will focus on Britpop even though the whole point of the book was to try to talk about something other than that,” he says. “It was slightly naive of me to think that I could write about these things in a more interesting way without it being dragged back to that agenda, but I hope when people read it they will understand what I was trying to do.”

“I was interested in understanding what the industry did to me . . . out of fascination with how it all worked.” 

In chapter one, Anderson explains his ambition was “to use elements of my own story as a way to reach out and reveal the broader picture, to look at my journey from struggle to success and to self-destruction and back again and use that narrative to talk about some of the forces that acted on me and to maybe uncover some sort of truth about the machinery that whirrs away, often unseen, especially by those on whom it is working, to create the bands that people hear on the radio.”

The result becomes a masterclass in understanding the emotional and practical infrastructure of the 1990s music industry. The micro level of Anderson’s unique personal experience is positioned within the macro in an illuminating and thought-provoking manner that contextualises their trajectory.

Amoral industry

“I was trying to look at myself as almost like a specimen,” he says. “The industry is completely amoral. It’s not deliberately trying to romanticise drugs or damage anyone but these things grow out of it. I was interested in understanding what the industry did to me, not by way of complaint, but more out of fascination with how it all worked.”

Reading Anderson’s account of the darkest days of his addiction is harrowing; it’s difficult to reconcile his past self with the refined, intellectual and incredibly warm gentleman waxing lyrical before me on a sunny September morning in his west London bolthole. More than anything, it is a relief that he survived.

The memoir manages to avoid, however, pandering to the cliches surrounding the drug-fuelled mythology of rock stars that Anderson admits being seduced by. Instead it raises questions about the consequences of mining your own self as the muse. If you become personally invested in the dangerous myths that surround creativity – so you must keep perpetuating behaviours that might destroy you in order to create – how do you ever break that cycle and find a new way to work?

Looking back now, Anderson acknowledges that “justifying indulgences is a function of that myth but you do learn that isn’t the only way to create and that you don’t need an external stimulus to generate ideas – that in fact it can have the opposite effect”.

The importance of tenacity within the creative process is a major, and refreshing, theme of the memoir. It is poignant to hear Anderson recount how a fear of returning to the poverty of his childhood drove him to persevere with the band when others might have surrendered. Although many would disagree, it’s clear that Anderson does not consider himself an artistic visionary but rather someone with a great work ethic.

“I was brought up in a very poor family, aware of the narrow limitations of my parents’ lives. Not wanting that for myself and my own family still drives me,” he explains. “A lot of great art has been created because of that fear and there’s nothing wrong with that. I don’t give up and I like how hard I work, that I keep throwing ideas together and in the jumble occasionally good things pop up.”

Press caricature

Anderson’s account of how his persona was curated by the media at the height of their celebrity is compelling. Although his essential self was always driving their creative decisions, the press created a caricature of him that he lost control of and resulted in three decades of a man bridging the gap between his authentic self and a stage persona.

Brett Anderson and Suede: “It doesn’t matter what else I do now or how many great records I make because I was most influential as an artist during a certain time.” 

“It wasn’t something I was conscious of doing at the time but I definitely made choices that fuelled it and the press exaggerated it further and ran with it,” he explains. For all music fans, and the Suede tribe in particular, the book offers these delicious insights into all aspects of the band; their image, songwriting craft, business decisions and relationships with the press. Did he feel any anxiety about stripping away that protective veneer now and allowing the fans and beyond to visit Oz and meet the wizard?

“There was definitely a fear that I might be undermining my own mystique to its detriment but I’m at the phase in my career where it doesn’t matter anymore. If I’d done this 15 or 20 years ago I think it would’ve affected how people see me but by now my image is too set. It doesn’t matter what else I do now or how many great records I make because I was most influential as an artist during a certain time and I can’t ever get away from the perception formed then. It’s galling, irritating, frustrating but I just have to accept that.”

In this, Anderson may not be right. This memoir has a profound capacity to alter the way music fans perceive the industry, their idols and the creative process – and to challenge any fixed ideas they may have about the man himself. In the wake of their eighth studio album, 2018’s The Blue Hour, and the incredible documentary, The Insatiable Ones, produced by Mike Christie that charts 25 years of the band, Anderson is experiencing a cultural renaissance that signifies him as an artist still in his prime. In the memoir he describes Suede as being like “a pram that’s been pushed down a hill” but his legions of fans will be relieved to hear it is finally parked up safely. For now, at least.

Afternoons with the Blinds Drawn is published by Little, Brown on October 3rd

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

17th September >> Mass Readings (USA)

Tuesday, Twenty-Fourth Week in Ordinary Time 

or Saint Robert Bellarmine, Bishop, Doctor.

Tuesday, Twenty-Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

(Liturgical Colour: Green)

First Reading

1 Timothy 3:1-13

The bishop must be irreproachable; similarly, deacons must hold fast to the mystery of the faith with a clear conscience.

Beloved, this saying is trustworthy: whoever aspires to the office of bishop desires a noble task. Therefore, a bishop must be irreproachable, married only once, temperate, self-controlled, decent, hospitable, able to teach, not a drunkard, not aggressive, but gentle, not contentious, not a lover of money. He must manage his own household well, keeping his children under control with perfect dignity; for if a man does not know how to manage his own household, how can he take care of the Church of God? He should not be a recent convert, so that he may not become conceited and thus incur the Devil’s punishment. He must also have a good reputation among outsiders, so that he may not fall into disgrace, the Devil’s trap.

Similarly, deacons must be dignified, not deceitful, not addicted to drink, not greedy for sordid gain, holding fast to the mystery of the faith with a clear conscience. Moreover, they should be tested first; then, if there is nothing against them, let them serve as deacons. Women, similarly, should be dignified, not slanderers, but temperate and faithful in everything. Deacons may be married only once and must manage their children and their households well. Thus those who serve well as deacons gain good standing and much confidence in their faith in Christ Jesus.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 101:1b-2ab, 2cd-3ab, 5, 6

R/ I will walk with blameless heart.

Of mercy and judgment I will sing;

to you, O Lord, I will sing praise.

I will persevere in the way of integrity;

when will you come to me?

R/ I will walk with blameless heart.

I will walk with blameless heart,

within my house;

I will not set before my eyes

any base thing.

R/ I will walk with blameless heart.

Whoever slanders his neighbor in secret,

him will I destroy.

The man of haughty eyes and puffed-up heart

I will not endure.

R/ I will walk with blameless heart.

My eyes are upon the faithful of the land,

that they may dwell with me.

He who walks in the way of integrity

shall be in my service.

R/ I will walk with blameless heart.

Gospel Acclamation

Luke 7:16

Alleluia, alleluia.

A great prophet has arisen in our midst

and God has visited his people.

Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel

Luke 7:11-17

Young man, I tell you, arise!

Jesus journeyed to a city called Nain, and his disciples and a large crowd accompanied him. As he drew near to the gate of the city, a man who had died was being carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. A large crowd from the city was with her. When the Lord saw her, he was moved with pity for her and said to her, “Do not weep.” He stepped forward and touched the coffin; at this the bearers halted, and he said, “Young man, I tell you, arise!” The dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother. Fear seized them all, and they glorified God, exclaiming, “A great prophet has arisen in our midst,” and “God has visited his people.” This report about him spread through the whole of Judea and in all the surrounding region.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

————————————-

Saint Robert Bellarmine, Bishop, Doctor 

(Liturgical Colour: White)

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Tuesday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading

Wisdom 7:7-10, 15-16

Beyond health and comeliness I loved her.

I prayed, and prudence was given me;

I pleaded, and the spirit of Wisdom came to me.

I preferred her to scepter and throne,

And deemed riches nothing in comparison with her,

nor did I liken any priceless gem to her;

Because all gold, in view of her, is a little sand,

and before her, silver is to be accounted mire.

Beyond health and comeliness I loved her,

And I chose to have her rather than the light,

because the splendor of her never yields to sleep.

Now God grant I speak suitably

and value these endowments at their worth:

For he is the guide of Wisdom

and the director of the wise.

For both we and our words are in his hand,

as well as all prudence and knowledge of crafts.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 19:8, 9, 10, 11

R/ The judgments of the Lord are true, and all of them are just.

or

R/ Your words, Lord, are Spirit and life.

The law of the Lord is perfect,

refreshing the soul;

The decree of the Lord is trustworthy,

giving wisdom to the simple.

R/ The judgments of the Lord are true, and all of them are just.

or

R/ Your words, Lord, are Spirit and life.

The precepts of the Lord are right,

rejoicing the heart.

The command of the Lord is clear,

enlightening the eye.

R/ The judgments of the Lord are true, and all of them are just.

or

R/ Your words, Lord, are Spirit and life.

The fear of the Lord is pure,

enduring forever;

The ordinances of the Lord are true,

all of them just.

R/ The judgments of the Lord are true, and all of them are just.

or

R/ Your words, Lord, are Spirit and life.

They are more precious than gold,

than a heap of purest gold;

Sweeter also than syrup

or honey from the comb.

R/ The judgments of the Lord are true, and all of them are just.

or

R/ Your words, Lord, are Spirit and life.

Gospel Acclamation

cf. John 6:63c, 68c

Alleluia, alleluia.

Your words, Lord, are Spirit and life;

you have the words of everlasting life.

Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel

Matthew 7:21-29

He taught them as one having authority.

Jesus said to his disciples: “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the Kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven. Many will say to me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name? Did we not drive out demons in your name? Did we not do mighty deeds in your name?’ Then I will declare to them solemnly, ‘I never knew you.  Depart from me, you evildoers.’

“Everyone who listens to these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock. The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and buffeted the house. But it did not collapse; it had been set solidly on rock. And everyone who listens to these words of mine but does not act on them will be like a fool who built his house on sand. The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and buffeted the house. And it collapsed and was completely ruined.”

When Jesus finished these words, the crowds were astonished at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as their scribes.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[darriness]

Playing With Lightning (Fic)

Author: darriness

Word Count: 3636

Pairings: Barry Allen/Darren Criss/Mia Swier

Summary: Darren notices something interesting in his coworker

Rating: NC-17

Author’s Note: SO I NEVER INTENDED TO FINISH THIS AND THEN I DID AND HERE IT IS. Written PURELY for my own enjoyment (and whoever else would enjoy reading it). Don’t send me angry asks please. This is just for fun. An idea that popped into my head like two years ago and is now finished (I have never written RPF (well in this case partly RPF) and never will again!). I’m not even posting in on AO3. I just thought...other people might want to read it? Because I enjoyed it) Enjoy!

Playing with Lightening (Fic)

Finding out your costar has super powers is fucking trippy. The first time Darren saw Barry flash somewhere he thought he was high. He then realized he was at work, therefore NOT high, and he had just seen Barry fucking Allen move so fast he almost missed him to the craft services table before moving back to where he needed to be for the next shot.

Darren had looked around to see if anyone else had noticed but everyone else was otherwise occupied. He had then turned back to Barry, who shot him an innocuous smile before turning back to whatever was on his phone.

The second time he sees Barry move faster than anyone has the right to move, it’s at the wrap party and Darren wishes he can blame it on the alcohol but he has only had one drink and he is most certainly NOT drunk as he watches Barry one minute standing talking to a DP and the next, when she turns around to acknowledge someone who has tapped her shoulder, Barry is gone in a flash of red, only to return seconds later before the DP turns back around.

“Did you just see that?” He asks leaning over to Mia who is tapping a quick text on her phone.

“See what?” She asks without REALLY looking up, wrap parties are fun but she’s got work to do.

“Barry, he just…moved really fast.” Darren finishes lamely with a grimace. He hates sounding anything less than intelligent.

“What are you on about?” Mia asks, pocketing her phone with a sigh and resting a hand on Darren’s thigh casually.

“Nothing. It’s stupid.” Darren shrugs, sliding his arm along the back of Mia’s chair and changing the subject to the new bookshelves they’re planning to buy for their front room.

It’s an hour later and this time, it’s Mia who notices the flash. She’s talking to an assistant and she feels a breeze in an otherwise breezeless room. She looks around to see what could have caused it when she notices Barry settling back into place next to the sound system (where he had been a moment before), a crackle of energy following behind him.

“I gotta go.” Mia says, interrupting the assistant and not really caring as she makes her way over to Darren who is fiddling with a piano, “We need to talk.” Is all she says before dragging him from the room amidst his protests.

“Hey, I was just about to play something.” He says as he tries to keep his drink from spilling.

“You are literally ALWAYS about to play something. It can wait.” She says, pushing him against the wall just outside the door holding the party, “I saw it.”

“Saw…what?” He asks confused, “The light?” He tries and is smacked in the arm for his efforts.

“No, you douche, I saw Barry. “Move really fast”.” She says parroting his words from earlier.

His eyes widen and he points at her with enthusiasm, “You did! Fucking right you did! I’m not crazy!”

“You are crazy but when it comes to this at least you’re correct.” He pouts at this but she just grabs his chin and plants a hard kiss on his lips to placate him. It works. It always works.

“So Barry Allen can move faster than the blink of an eye? Do we…tell him we know?” Darren asks. He hadn’t thought much past ‘Holy fuck’.

Mia seems to think for a minute, taping her fingers against where they rest on his chest before a slow smile spreads across her face, “I know exactly what we’re going to do.” She says, stopping her taping and instead trailing her finger slowly along the buttons of his shirt.

He looks down at said finger and then back up at her face, knowing exactly what both her finger and face are saying, “You greedy girl.” He smiles slowly as she bites her lip.

She shrugs as innocently as she can but they both know she’s the naughty one in this relationship. Innocent isn’t something she pulls off very well.

“Can we ask him?” She asks like he really has a say in the matter.

He rolls his eyes to emphasize this point before huffing, “Go. Do your thing.”

“Don’t act like you won’t enjoy it.” She giggles, slapping his chest lightly before trailing her fingers along it to his shoulder as she moves to the door, “Go play something nice on the piano and we’ll meet you there.” She says.

When she’s gone, Darren has to subtly adjust himself before doing what he’s told. He’s amazed after so many years together that a little talk and innocent touching can get him going but he assumes that’s what happens when you just work with another person.

He’s in the middle of playing his own arrangement of Can’t Stop the Feeling when he feels hands he’s very familiar with smooth across his shoulders. He doesn’t stop playing, just leans back slightly into the curve of her body, letting her breasts pillow his head, “Look who I brought.” She says, kissing into his hair.

Darren still doesn’t stop playing as he turns to see Barry Allen standing next to Mia looking only slightly awkward. He’s all wide eyes and sweetness, Darren wonders what Mia said to get to this moment.

“I thought we could all head back to our place. Have a drink or two.” Barry’s nodding before Mia has finished her sentence which leads Darren to believe this isn't news to him.

“Sure.” Darren smiles easily and twenty minutes later they are settling on Darren and Mia’s leather couch, each with a glass of wine.

“You guys have a lovely home.” Barry comments, smoothing his jeans down his thighs as Mia sits next to him and Darren sits in the arm chair next to the couch.

“You’re so sweet.” Mia murmurs almost to herself. She pushes off her sandals and lets her feet curl up under herself, resting her knee touching Barry’s thigh, “So how does it work?” She asks and by the way Barry doesn’t even flinch at the question Darren surmises she already told him they know he can move faster than any human should move.

Barry laughs with a slight cough, “It’s the age old story: get struck by lightning, spend nine months in a coma, wake up and you’re the fastest man alive.” He shrugs at the end.

“And I’m guessing it’s not something you broadcast?” Darren asks curiously.

Barry shakes his head, “Would you?” He asks, “A few people know, but not many.”

“And you’re really okay…testing out what that speed can do?” Mia asks suggestively.

Barry shrugs, “Sure. You guys are…hot.” He finishes with another shrug and a laugh. Darren has known Barry for almost a year and he still can’t get over how adorably goofy this man is.

Mia smiles and suddenly the energy in the room changes. She leans closer to Barry and captures his lips in a kiss that is dirty from the start. Darren watches as she opens her mouth to his and can hear her soft moan when their tongues meet. Darren always finds it fascinating to watch Mia kiss other people. Fascinating and incredibly attractive.

It’s clear from the beginning that Mia is in charge of the kiss but Barry is not entirely passive. He brings his hands up to smooth them down her sides and Darren hears Mia sigh.

Mia pulls away and smirks when Barry tries to follow, “So Mr. Allen, what exactly are you up for?” She whispers.

Barry’s eyes flick to Darren before focussing back on Mia, “Anything.” He’s out of breath from the kiss.

Mia hums, “That’s a lofty word. ‘Anything’ can go a long way with us.”

Barry swallows audibly but it doesn’t appear to be from nerves, “I’m fine with that.”

Mia smiles again and slowly gets up from the couch and moves to Darren who is sitting back with his wine, “I’m going to go into the bedroom and freshen up. Why don’t you test out a few things that fall under the umbrella of ‘anything’ before coming to join me?” She asks before kissing him. She had meant it to be a quick kiss but with the current mood, their quick kiss quickly turns into Mia grabbing a fist full of those curls she loves so much and titling his head back until it’s at the perfect angle. He lets her move him, groaning at the tug on his hair and takes whatever she gives.

She pulls away after a moment and they are both breathing heavily, Darren’s eyes already losing focus, “We are…really good at that.” She whispers so only he’ll hear.

“Hell yes we are.” Darren agrees, kissing her slowly one more time before she straightens. If she doesn’t separate herself from him she may very well forget they have a guest.

“I’ll see you boys in a minute.” she says before moving past the chair and down the hall to their bedroom.

Darren focuses back on Barry who is all but panting on the couch, his eyes blown black and definite interest showing at the front of his jeans, “Wow.” Barry breathes and Darren smirks before getting up and sitting next to his costar.

“Ever kiss a guy before, Barry?” He asks. Barry shakes his head no and Darren shrugs, “It’s not much different than kissing a woman to be honest. More stubble. Harder? I find there’s always more of a push back. But otherwise, very similar.”

“Do you spend a lot of time kissing men?” Barry asks.

Darren laughs, “It seems to be a career move I make more often than not but outside of work? Not really. Mia seems to enjoy it when she watches though and anything I can do to make that girl happy? Well, it’s not a hardship.”

“I could see wanting to make her happy for sure.” Barry agrees, his eyes flicking down the hall Mia had left down.

“Watch yourself, Speedster.” Darren says playfully before leaning in and capturing the other man’s lips in a kiss. He can tell Barry is nervous and not quite sure what to do at the beginning but Darren gives it a moment or two and he can feel the moment Barry realizes this isn’t really much different than kissing a woman. He relaxes and seems to melt back into the couch and actually groans when Darren lets his tongue flick briefly passed his parted lips.

“Now that’s a sound I like to hear.” Mia’s voice has them separating and both turn towards her. Darren’s got a smile on his face and Barry is touching his lips like he’s still trying to figure out what just happened.

“I thought we were coming to join you, my darling.” Darren says letting his eyes trails appreciatively over her body as she stands there in just her panties and bra.

She shrugs and pushes her hair behind her ear, “I got tired of waiting.”

“It’s been three minutes.” Darren comments but gets up anyway and gestures for Barry to do the same.

The trio make their way to Darren and Mia’s bedroom and Mia crawls onto the bed the minute they’re inside, resting back against the pillow. Darren isn’t about to ignore an invitation like that and smoothly shifts on top of her to catch her mouth in a kiss. Her arms comes to rest around his neck and he lets his hands roam while they kiss; tracing a path down her neck, over her breasts and down her stomach. He can feel her stomach muscles clench at the move. He knows for a fact that this turns her on, foreplay with her in her underwear and him fully clothed. She will often refuse to let him get undressed some night until she’s come.

Mia arches her back as Darren lets his hand slide between her legs briefly. She’s wet, she knows it, and she knows he knows it too before he even touches lightly through her panties. Damn him for knowing how to so quickly get her going.

She pulls back from the kiss to pant, “Now Darren, we don’t want to be rude to our guest, do we?” She asks and the two of them turn their heads to find Barry standing at the side of the bed, a hand massaging his obvious hard on, “We did invite him over to have some fun. Be a good boy and let him have a turn.” She says and feels Darren slide to lie next to her but unable to actually stop touching her, lying a hand on her stomach and letting his fingers smooth across her skin. She lets him, knows he rarely stops moving, and gestures for Barry to join her. He does and with only mild encouragement takes over the same spot Darren had just occupied, “Hey.” She says, seeming to realize why he’s hesitating, “You said you were okay with anything? Well so are we. Darren and I love sharing our bed from time to time but we are also a very secure couple. We will tell you if something passes a boundary and we expect you to do the same. But otherwise? Just let go and be.”

Barry lets out a shaky breath where he’s perched on top of her, not letting any of his weight settle and glances over at Darren. At Darren’s nod of confirmation he seems to drop whatever hang ups he had with the shake of the head and he begins kissing Mia with gusto, “That’s a good boy.” Mia murmurs between kisses, “Show me what you got.”

Barry lets his hands travel the same path Darren’s took and Mia notes his hands are smoother than Darren’s. It makes sense, considering the amount of guitar Darren plays. His hands are calloused and warm while Barry’s are smooth and cool to the touch. Darren’s hand is still smoothing over her stomach when Barry’s hand slips into the cup of her bra. She sighs and lets her head fall back. Her breasts and nipples have always been really sensitive, something Darren found out early and exploits often.

“Put your mouth on them.” She gasps when Barry flicks her nipple with his finger.

“Which of us are you talking to?” Darren murmurs into her ear.

“Both. Both is good.” Mia decides because why the hell not?

Both men smirk before Barry moves to settle on her other side. They each take a bra cup and peel it back, letting them rest underneath her breasts before using their hands to massage the flesh they just uncovered. The sensation of two different hands is always strange and yet amazing but Mia loses her breath completely when simultaneously the men bring their mouths to their respective nipples.

“Holy shit.” She gasps. It isn’t often she gets the warm wet cavern of a mouth on both her nipples at the same time. She arches her back as both men start to flick their tongues back and forth across her nipples while simultaneously sucking softly.

“Oh you two are the best boys.” She sighs and that’s when she feels it. A vibration against her left nipple. She thinks at first that Barry is just moaning, she loves that, but soon realizes this is a much more intense feeling and one that last longer than a moan against her flesh, “Oh my god!” She moans fisting a hand into the hair at the back of both of their heads and if she’s not mistaken she can actually FEEL Barry smirk against her breast. His tongue is vibrating. Literally vibrating against her flesh and she screws her eyes shut to try and stave off the orgasm she can feel building just from that.

“Holy fuck I need…I want…You need to…” She aborts each sentence because she isn’t sure WHAT she want or needs at this point. Both men pick their heads up and look at her and she does know ONE thing, that them stopping was not something she wants OR needs, “Did I tell you to stop?”

“Well you were in the middle of telling us a lot of different things there but didn’t finish any of them.” Darren jokes before settling down to whisper in her ear, “You wanna go once to get warmed up?” Sometimes she does and sometimes she doesn’t. Some nights the idea of coming more than once is exhausting and she’d rather just wait until the end but on other nights, when she’s REALLY feeling it, coming once at the beginning can be a relief to her over stimulated system. In her current state, that husky whisper is enough to give Mia a full body shiver and she knows her answer for tonight.

“Yes.” She whines, shoving him down and away and she knows she doesn’t need to speak for him to get the idea. She pulls Barry so his face is right above hers and says in the most commanding voice she can muster at the moment, “Do that again.” Before directing his head back to her breasts.

The vibrations start up again almost immediately and Barry’s hand takes over where Darren’s mouth had been as Darren mouths his way down her body before pulling her panties down her legs.

Darren’s ability to get her off with his mouth is both familiar and yet always surprising and it doesn’t take long before she’s arching off the bed, almost crushing his head between her thighs as she moans long and low.

Both boys pull away from her, smiling (Barry’s pleased and Darren’s knowing) and she sighs as she stretches, “Mmmmm, more.” She says, simply.

Darren smiles and moves up her body, kissing her lightly before whispering, “Who do you want where?”

Mia considers her options before peeking at Barry under Darren’s arm, “Does…every part of you vibrate?”

And just like that the decision is made. Barry settles between her legs as Darren kneels next to her head, tangling a hand in her hair as the other man puts on a condom, “You’ve got a real life vibrator.” Darren says with a smirk.

Mia giggles, leaning up to pull the tip of Darren’s cock between her lips for a brief moment, pulling off and licking her lips at the precome she finds there. Darren’s breath stutters out of him and the hand in her hair tightens.

They both look down the bed to watch Barry watching them, pulling almost absent-mindedly at his sheathed erection, “Whenever you’re ready.” Mia says and it seems to snap Barry back to attention. He shakes his head as if to clear it and then shuffles forward, hooking her thigh with one hand and guiding his cock with the other.

She sighs as he enters her, it’s different than Darren but no less pleasing, before reaching behind Darren’s ass and using it to pull him toward her mouth. All three moan as they settle into position and there’s a moment where no one moves. They’re all frozen in a tableaux full of sexual energy before Barry breaks the moment and begins to thrust.

It doesn’t take long before Darren is shallowly thrusting back and forth as well before moaning long and low as Mia squeals around his cock. He knows the squeal comes from Barry beginning to vibrate and the three are caught in a feedback loop of pleasure as they all chase their orgasms.

Mia comes first, moaning around Darren as Barry pushes in at just the right angle to cause her to tense and then relax with a moan. Barry comes second, unable to handle the clenching walls around him, filling the condom with a drawn out moan of his own.

Darren watches this all happen with panting breath. He looks down at Mia’s pink lips around him and asks, “Can I?”

Mia pulls off with a smile and a nod and Darren almost ‘whoops’ with joy as he shuffles down the bed, “Excuse me, my good man.” He says to Barry who, dazed, pulls out and sits heavily on the end of the bed.

Darren quickly takes his place and slides in with a groan, setting a brutal pace as Mia’s feet settle on his ass to encourage him, “That’s it. Come in me.” She says, sluggishly. She’s tired, after having come twice.

Darren lets his head drop to his chest as he comes hard inside her, pulsing with the intensity. Mia groans at the feeling and reaches up to pull him down by his curls to let him rest against her chest.

The room is silent but for their heavy breathing until Barry lets out a breathy, “Wow.”

Darren and Mia chuckle from their position and Barry smiles, “That was awesome.” Mia comments, smiling at Barry over Darren’s shoulder but unwilling to move from her position.

Barry smiles, “Yeah. It was.” He says, before sighing, “I should probably…head out.”

“You don’t have to.” Darren says from where he’s lying against Mia.

Barry smiles, “I appreciate that but I need to get home. Thanks for tonight.”

“Thank YOU.” Mia emphasizes, “Anytime you want to…have some fun.”

Barry nods, “I’ll keep that in mind.” He says with a smile before getting up and grabbing his clothes. He’s quiet on his retreat and before long Mia and Darren are alone.

Mia pets through Darren’s hair as they lay in companionable silence, “Did that really just happen?” She asks.

“Did we really just have sex with the fastest man alive?” Darren mumbles, already mostly asleep, “Yeah, I think we did.”

Mia nods as she considers the ceiling, “Thought so.” She says simply before the pair fall asleep, curled around each other.

[a-is-love]

AH

Perhaps this will be just another letter, a dream within a dream, a stream among streams of consciousness that flow through our sacred Mother Earth. On the other hand, sometimes, there are holes in the universe, holes that open up possibilities that at once seem possible and impossible, those one in a million chances… perhaps, once in a lifetime. And they seem to stay open but for a little while awaiting an adventurer, in which case, there is delight. Otherwise, it sews itself up, and a timeline is sealed. 

Interestingly, from inside, there always seems to be a voice that is whispering something ever so softly, that sometimes one wonders whether it is a song from the heart, or if it is the mistaken sound of wishful thinking. Not only that, one knows that although the message might be compassionate, it still is threatening to the current state of affairs. So there is both the incentive to listen and to ignore it at once. Yes, things can become quite uncertain and rather bewildering. 

I haven’t written like this in a little while, but I feel the sirens may have been visiting me a little more as of late. I suppose they have something they want to express.

I think the last time I heard such a voice, I was walking up a mountain at a retreat center. You know what happens at a long retreat, at a certain point you try to convince yourself that you’re at peace and happy, and that things are going to be alright. But deep inside me at the time, a tenderness kept trying to reveal itself… showing some truth about myself that I wasn’t prepared to admit. Nothing was soothing me, and my uneasiness kept gnawing at me. When I listened, the voice asked me to stop… to let go of what I was doing. It said it ever so softly, but quite intently too.

I’m reminded of this scene from a McQueen show titled Voss. He had a tattoo on his right upper arm that read, “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,” which is taken from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. With his sense of humor, he had all the models walking out into an insane asylum, in a room full of mirrors (they couldn’t see out, but the curious audience of course, could watch the horror show). At the end, there was a rectangular box in the middle of the scene that shattered to reveal a naked, overweight woman in a gas mask hooked up to tubes and surrounded by hundreds of moths. That’s when I imagined a few people gasped! I think the message may have something to do with the quote on his arm. In any case, for me, it seemed to point to an ugliness inside that I hadn’t learned to love, that I was still afraid of. It took a while for me to heed the message… 

Finally, a few years passed before I took the leap. I decided to break from life as I had known it, and head into a one year gap sabbatical. In hindsight it wasn’t a big deal, but it definitely felt disconcerting at the time. It turned out to be a strange year. I was trying to put my finger on something… find something, although I didn’t know what. At that point, I had been inside the machine for a little while, enough that I felt its mechanics quite acutely. Unfortunately, we are born into something that may have been corrupted for quite some time now, and it’s not really anyone’s fault. However honorable our intentions, however noble our heart, it always seemed like inevitably, our actions would slowly be warped to continue to construct this greedy and unfeeling world. At least personally, I couldn’t think clearly anymore. 

With that longing, I decided to revisit my past to try and see if it held any clues. When I was younger, I had the privilege of being a violinist in an orchestra, and it was love. One of the highlights was one year at the Conservatoire, we performed Also Sprach Zarathustra, and our concert-mistress just played the solo to perfection. It was so moving. Another time, in a festival of young musicians, we interpreted Ravel’s Bolero to a grand French audience. I still remember the cheers at the end. I think I inherited this classical sensibility from mother. I have fond memories of her accompanying me to most of my lessons. Or when I was young, she was stay-at-home, and we spent a lot of our time doing arts and crafts together.

During that gap year, I tried to rekindle something with my older brother, the one who is both blessed and cursed with a slight case of art-ism (or is it spelled aut-?). He’s the black sheep of the family, the one who guards the house with our black-and-white cat Daria. We used to love to make music together, but by then, his health didn’t permit it anymore. Fortunately, it never diminished his sense of artistic taste, which has always been a cut above everyone. (In his younger days, he may have seen the eyes of Mona Lisa herself in a long trip, and she apparently initiated him into the sublime). On the surface, he seems to be doing nothing most of the time, which perplexes most people I know. From the inside, I am privy to witness a spectacle of endless colors, shapes, and sounds. I think from him, I inherited something of the other-worldly (although sometimes, even I have a hard time connecting to him when he travels too far out into the conspiratorial.)

The other members of the family are more earthy and pragmatic. My father is the engineer who fixes the water heater when it breaks mid-winter, or like clockwork, reminds us to change the air filter when it’s time. He may have been the one to steer me away from art into medicine, much to my chagrin. I harbored anger about it for quite a while. I think during that year, I finally had the chance to hear stories of the harrowing escape from their country from my aunts. Apparently, father shouldered a lot of that responsibility to make sure they arrived here safely. Knowing these stories helped me to understand and forgive him. I think since he feels my brother can't do it, he sees me as the one carrying forth that ancestral responsibility, some sense of honor from a lost country.

My sister is also a more worldly being than I. Being the youngest one, she has had to fight a little bit more than the rest of us for her fair share. But that feistiness proved itself to be useful that year, when she received news that she had ovarian failure. She would never have children of her own. It really broke her heart, and she was trying everything under the sun to change her fate. I didn’t realize its meaning at the time, but in a trip to New Jersey to visit my cousin, there was a scene I’ll always remember. After a slight rain shower had subsided, she and I walked outside to the most remarkable double rainbow, and the whole sky behind was coloured with violets and reds. My cousin had gone through a miscarriage herself, and understood the pain. So last year, she was the one who volunteered her ovums to my sister. And most unexpectedly, my sister received the news of twins on the first IVF try, and she and her husband finally became parents. So, her will forward against all odds was really amazing.

Me … I continued to be lost that year, even while I was back at our Profound Treasury Retreat in the summer. Some of us retreatants spoke about trying to organize a dathün, and I was enthused, because being on sabbatical might give me the only opportunity I would have in a while. But ideas are so fragile, that sometimes if they reach the wrong ears, the flower wilts before it has a chance to bloom. That was the fate of this idea, or so it seemed. The retreat ended... and it was good, but it was time to go home. (Usually I had B to drive home with me, but that year he was undergoing chemotherapy for prostate cancer, so he hadn't come along. I had met him a few years back at a local Buddhist fundraiser, when my eyes first grazed upon his beautiful photograph entitled Flower Moon, since framed in my shrine room. My brother chose one entitled Flower Demon… Geminis of the same coin, I suppose). 

J and his daughter K had forgotten their unfinished laundry at our campsite before they had headed off to a second retreat. Since it was on my way home, I volunteered to deliver the clothes to them. I didn’t think much of it… I would come in and drop it off and be on my way.  Fate would have it that when I began to head back to my car, at the last possible moment, a voice called ‘’Daniel…! Daniel….!’’ J was out smoking again and he had spotted me. Would I stay behind to practice some more? Well… I told him I had the time. I think at that moment, a small hole in the universe opened, and I remembered the words of a Tibetan Buddhist master:

“If you can visualize it, it will be there in the morning.’’ 

Magically, here was the month-long sit that I had hoped for, suddenly materializing. So I fell upon a choiceless choice, and I was granted the permission to stay and join the group.

It was a really wonderful time. At the retreat center a few years back, the voice from these same mountains had requested me to have the courage to take a pause. So here I was, full circle, and it felt like a gift having more precious time to spend practicing. Of course, it wouldn’t be a proper retreat without major controversy, and the “Current Situation” shook what was supposed to be a peaceful space. (It has reverberated ever since, actually). 

But along the way, we had ice cream on the fourth of July for C’s birthday, and walks and wine at night (yes, we cheated). I think that’s where I met “Ah” for the first time. Her name translates to something like serene childlike beauty, or at least, that’s my take on it. There was such sensibility to her manners, maybe something unresolved as well. At the midway point, we had a long free day with mostly just the four of us together (J, K, Ah and I). Nothing happened, and yet it was the sort of series of nothing happening that was just a perfect coda for me. I think maybe the dralas dictated a poem to remember the day:

Dragon Day Bowing out Public vomit recovery Bambi living Je me souviens de rien de rien (one of Tilopa's 6 nails) Soothing headache ibuprofens Mommy navajo siren Only twin child Dulce elderberry spirit Basketball shots Straight talking Translucent Shakespearean theatre Wounded Earth Protector Great eastern sunburn Holocaust cemetery Flower moonshine Holy bread with dab of butter I'm really sorry—nothing happens Talking to Acharya through a window Talking to Acharya with Ka commanding magic The land before time The call of loons Four kayas Fortnights Tears in the fourth moment Sadjoy

I left midway through, although looking back, I do have regrets about it. A month later, while playing tennis, my right Achilles snapped. The moment I fell to the ground, it was like: “Damn, Daniel! Now the universe will have you sitting for two more months!’’ I would have preferred it at the retreat probably. Anyhow, I must have watched three movies a day that September, it was really indulgent, but I couldn’t do much of anything. But I did feel very grateful to all the kind doctors, nurses, friends and family who each had a hand in my recovery. I think somewhere in the healing, I started to realize a most basic thing about my profession that I had forgotten amidst the hustle and bustle of long days, feelings of inadequacy, and the endless accounting and paperwork. Beyond all that, I realized that maybe I could be helpful. “I can help.” It was a simple, almost naive mantra (if not to the point of being a simpleton), but I found it to be true somehow.

It was like I had recovered a compass, to which I could attune myself in times of need. As the sabbatical quickly wound down, my previous life awaited me. Nothing changed when I came back to work, at least not on the surface. But something changed as well… I felt with the mantra, I was perhaps able to slowly effect some change, however small. Ever so slowly, I’ve been feeling the sun in my heart again, and I think it feels genuine. It’s been slow-burning and giving. Last year, when everything stopped and the world turned upside down, I couldn’t help but think back… that somehow, I had stopped at the right moment, and had a small time to look inside. Now, it was my turn to give back to the ailing world. Increasingly, I think we all worry that our world is taking the turn for the worse, and it seems to really need us, more than we might know.  

Sometimes, along the way, we meet people that inspire, that move us, and even in a short time, change us. Late last year, old warrior teachers of mine gathered online to present to us their wisdom on the notion of an enlightened society. It was the surprise of the year that Ah could come, even for just the first half of it. (I suppose there was some poetic karma there, after I had left in the middle of dathün back then.) In those moments together, I felt we could begin to plant the seeds of a just and good world. And in our society, it’s okay if one needs time away in the middle of a forest to heal. It might take moments and moments, and then suddenly, a new possibility dawns—one that has been there all along. Maybe, that’s how we cultivate warriors with soft hearts.

In the middle of that winter, these lines came to me:

                           Meet me in the ninth                         Where the sun reaches its peak                          To swallow flames whole

Maybe it’s for these dark times we live in, that sometimes feel impossible, but we know that the only way is through. On the other hand, perhaps we have simply forgotten, but our birthright is goodness, and it infuses everything that we do already.

So although we live a world apart, it’s still nice to know that magic can happen in July, and that just maybe, we are but a call or message away. And sometimes, there are holes in the universe, holes that open up possibilities that at once seem possible and impossible, to those that are one in a million, perhaps, once in a lifetime… and you know, my heart grows a little fonder. Or, it could be that I’m a bit myopic and that I can’t read the situation from this far a distance. If it’s that, then my humble apologies. 

I’m reminded that I once took a drawing class, and there was a couple serving as models in the middle of the room. The teacher was helping us visualize, asking that our eyes follow the curves of the body to where we couldn’t see them, helping us feel the space from presence to darkness. Then, we were asked to try and glimpse into the soul of the models, how it might reflect in their gaze, or a wrinkle, or in an unkempt strand of hair. I think I’m coming to understand this inner world a little bit more everyday: the mirrors, the moths, and the lady with the mask. And I would say, “I think I like you, and I would love to get to know you more.’’ 

At the very least, I hope it brings a smile.

                                        *              *               *

I feel the sirens might be done their songs for the day.  Thank you for your ears.  They really are most kind.

[back-alley-magic]

"Tuck you in, warm within Keep you free from sin Till the Sandman he comes

Sleep with one eye open Gripping your pillow tight

Exit: light Enter: night Take my hand We're off to never Neverland" --Enter Sandman https://goo.gl/FXW52w

The Sandman

Faction: Fae

FC: Doug Jones

Name: The Sandman

Any other titles, nicknames, or epithets: Mister Mercurial, Sopor, Chelem (depending on how old you are. Those who remember him from the glory days will probably refer to him by his earlier name Chelem, or even as far back as Hypnos. His human associates call him simply Mr. Mercurial.)

Age: As old as man’s dreams, and older still. For even birds in their nests and wolves in their dens dream bloody, wordless dreams.

Personality:

+energetic

+entertaining

+understanding (he’s had millennia to dissect and devour every form of human desire and regret. Trust him when he says he knows what you’re feeling. He has tasted it before.)

+intensely curious

+playful

+adaptable

+creative

+has an infectious energy and passion, and is oddly supportive (even if he tends to support horrible, energy-draining ideas and crackpot fantasies that are bound to go nowhere, end up in life-consuming obsession, and feed no one but himself)

+whimsical

+persuasive

+/-overly flowery and melodramatic in all aspects of life. He lives on imagery and imagination, and the rules of reality don’t really seem to apply to him. His magic is very distorting, intoxicating, and metaphorical

+/-nosy

+/-not disloyal per-se, and not exactly neutral. He likes to play /every/ side, catching ahold of fragmentary goals and half-born ambitions before flitting onto the next.

+/-stickler for rules, though his rules are almost nonsensical and extremely allegorical (in a way he’s the unholy mix of Jareth from The Labrynith, the Riddler, and Morpheus from the Sandman comics)

+/-perpetually /starving/. His hunger and greed give him his gaunt, inhuman appearance. Despite centuries of twisting others’ imagination into his own human illusions, he hasn’t quite been able to disguise his inhumanity, and the result is both uncanny and somehow entrancing. 

+/-while on a whole he seems unfocused and a raw force of nature (barreling in every direction with deadly strength like a rushing current yet as impossible to grasp as water) he is incredibly intense and focused on small points. His plans from a grand scale seem to constantly shift, but this is because he focuses on very small issues before becoming immersed in his next micro-obsession.

-quixotic

-possessive

-greedy

-irresponsible

-quick to make judgments and resistant to changing his mind (even given counter-evidence)

-irrational

-while he tries to appear pleasant, gracious, and giving he can be quite vicious and spiteful when he feels you are hampering his plans. He also spares little thought for the live he ruins. In his mind he gives them a greater gift than the energy he takes, and his illusory worlds provide more comfort than reality. He rarely sticks around to see the evacuated, hollow, delusional human wrecks he leaves in his wake.

Powers, weapons, and skills:

Like many other Fae, Mr. Mercurial draws his power from the energy of living beings. While others focus on emotion, his energy source is even more intangible. He feeds on dreams themselves, crafting palaces of fantasies from wisps of imagination. While his magical source may be the most obscure and metaphorical, it has some of the most concrete uses. His very life-blood is a sea of hypnotic dream and he’ll shed his blood for any would-be dreamers and hopeful innovators...for a price. Above all, Mr. Mercurial craves novelty, always hunting for the next groundbreaking idea, or intensity, searching for souls deeply wrapped in their own daydreams. The advent of mass media and entertainment was more than he could ever hope for in this quest. Now he has a rapt audience already primed for dreaming and already hooked on diversion. And in a city full of vices, who will pay any attention to one more shadowy figure pushing iridescent, quicksilver pills in back alleys? He says they’re simply melatonin. But the dreams they conjure are like nothing you’ve ever experienced. In the end, they become more real than reality itself, and life will never be quite as satisfying as that world you build within your mind.

Worst of all, as The Sandman accumulates loyal followers, lovingly called his Dreameaters, his powers grow. His quicksilver pills are picking up some very strange side-effects, and the human world is starting to take notice.

In essence, he creates daydreams so real they can become physical to their target. They often weave into elaborate distortions of reality, each personalized to the dreams of the viewer. The more the individual's mind fills in the gaps in the dream and the more they become submerged in the fantasy, the more power Mr. Mercurial can siphon from them. This works on Fae, shifters, and Witches Proper to some extent, but humans are much more susceptible. His favorite prey of all happens to be hedge witches because they are still human enough for vivid dreams but have some amount of Power.

Weaknesses:

In many ways, his illusions are stronger than his physical self. He is crumbling and tearing apart at the seams, like worn paper. This frailty causes him to rely even more heavily on his powers, thereby accelerating the cycle of decay.

His power must have a fertile mind to catch hold. Therefore, his illusions are realest to creative, artistic, passionate, or curious individuals. Those who are overly rational, small-minded, or inflexible simply won't be able to embellish on his fantasies.

While old film, books, and other older physical media can still harbor his powers, he hits the same pitfalls as many other fae. Modern technology, including phones, cameras, and computers just won't take up his magic. He is also weakened in the newer part of the city, and shuns the tall glass and steel skyscrapers in favor of crumbling brick and shadowy alleys.

It takes a little knowledge about a person or direct contact with his blood to create a very vivid dream-world. Usually after taking one of his quicksilver pills, he sticks around to talk and fish out more information on your darkest fears and deepest hopes. Only then can he truly weave a dream strong enough to entrap a human to their death. 

The more Dreameaters he amasses, the stronger his power grows. But his body weakens. He counteracts this by devouring the physical body of his most imaginative Dreameaters. He doesn't relish this aspect of his powers, but views it as a noble sacrifice by his loving children so the dreams may continue. What he /doesn't/ realize is that once he has devoured them, they are a part of him and have some small access to his powers. His blood is their blood, and they have started appearing in visions to some of the Dreameaters and those who try his quicksilver pills (but more on that to come in NPCs).

He may think he has a perfect understanding of human nature, but his views on human emotion and motive are actually very black and white. He knows their deepest failings and their greatest hopes, but he doesn't really understand the grey area most people dwell in, both evil and noble. This can certainly be used against him.

Finally, and most importantly, he is almost as caught-up in his own webs as his Dreameaters. He has lived in fantasy so long he is rather delusional.  Though he claims to control his fabricated reality, it has taken on a life of its own. It may just be devouring him just as it devours his human prey.

Likes:

Modern technology

movies and media. He is /obsessed/ with movies and tv. They are the closest thing to mass-produced versions of his power, and provide very convenient ways for him to siphon energy.

especially enamored with classic hollywood

melodrama

watching from afar

horrible jokes

creativity

art

anyone with a driving passion

making dreams come true (or at least, so he says)

messing with the other Fae and Witches Proper

humans. He may be a parasitic force of nature, but he truly loves how every small, inconsequential human has the capability to dream and create their own worlds. Probably of all the Fae, he has the greatest love and awe for

Dislikes:

realists

boring individuals

small-minded people

fae who look down on him for his close association with humans

not getting his way

boredom

those who bring up his more brutal violent side. He sees himself as a savior and martyr, literally giving his life-blood for others' enjoyment. So what if he takes their soul in the end? They had a more fulfilling life in their daydreams than they ever could in reality.

modern technologies thwart his powers

not getting to make a grand entrance

Short bio: Chelem is older than the memory of man. He was there when the first human hand scratched the shadowy outline of a mammoth into a wall. He was there for the first raising of a wall, for the first dreams of warm summer in frigid winter nights, for the first spark of creativity that turned shapeless rock into a flint dagger. As man grew, so did his power. While other fae shunned humanity, he saw in them the spark that has kept him fed for millennia. For humans, above all others, can dream. Through the centuries he has whispered into the ears of kings and alchemists, pauper revolutionaries and grand artists. He has led many to the path of destruction, just as he has led others to immortality through almost impossible deeds. And in return, they have woven for him a world of dreams. He cloaks his true guise in their hopes and fears. Though he lacks the imagination himself, his human pets have crafted for him a shell to live in, almost human but never quite right. He is a mocking reflection of the creatures he so deeply loves, and he is relentlessly ravenous for new ideas and new fantasies to build on his already lush imaginary world. For only there does he truly feel safe. In reality, his flesh is fragile and crumbling. He is wasting away in his own web, only barely clinging to existence with the bloody deaths of his followers. But the resurgence of the Stone is bolstering his powers, and through his quicksilver pills and his growing army, he finally sees a way to stabilize his form or, more terrifying still, to shed it completely and engulf Morrow in dream.

Life in Morrow: He runs a movie theater in the bad part of town. Little do his customers know that he sits above the crowd, not watching the flickering screen but focused on the rapt faces of the audience. He lives for their emotions, their wayward dreams and petty fantasies. Mr. Mercurial feeds on the imaginations of his customers, and has moved far beyond passively gathering their cast-off fancies. He has developed what he calls "quicksilver pills," an iridescent, silvery capsule sold to human, fae, shifter, and witch alike. While he claims they are nothing more than melatonin, they produce dreams so vivid and captivating that users can waste away, stuck in their dream world. Mr. Mercurial is slowly building an army of these Dreameaters, who wander the streets with glazed eyes and a metallic sheen across their lips before dying, desiccated and strangely opalescent. The human police are hot on the trail of what they believe is a new drug craze sweeping the streets of Morrow. But the magical inhabitants know better. Mr. Mercurial is amassing forces, building his own generator for energy as the magic in the world slowly drains away. And the more his power grows, the stronger his quicksilver pills become. They have gained strange new side effects which have the magical population of Morrow even more worried than the police. For Mr. Mercurial's Quicksilver pills can grant magic to humans. Now, this isn't true magic, merely an amplification of very small talents into one focused power. But while this magnifies magical talent, it works much like a magnifying glass channeling sunlight to fry bugs on the sidewalk. Dreameaters are starting to overpower, exploding (sometimes literally) with magical outbursts across the city.

Why do they want the Stone? He believes with the Stone he can magnify his powers enough to plunge the whole world into illusion (or as he says, "wake the world"). Though it may seem selfish, he truly believes the world will be better off if everyone succumbs to their fancies and is fully submerged in dreams. And with a growing force of Dreameaters at his disposal, he may just be in a position to find the Stone (and its unlucky Keeper) before the rest of the magical world of Morrow can get their hands and claws and unholy tentacles on it.

Greatest wish?

To build a world of dream strong enough for him to finally relinquish his fragile body.

Greatest fear? 

That the creativity of man is dying and that he'll slowly fade.

What 5 items would you put in a pentagram to summon them? Movie-theater popcorn, a reel of film, a dash of mercury, a bowtie, and the scent of lavender.

[toffyandsalt]

Gradence with a niffler? Maybe they have to catch him or look after him for Newt? Because I'd really love to see Graves interacting with niffler, I think it'd be hilarious :)

Blimey, this is so funny! I’m not very good at writing humorous situations, but here is my attempt :D Hope you’ll enjoy :)

Graves has to re-read the message several times before it fully sinks in. Quick messy scribble says: “Mr. Graves, I have come to realise that during my morning visit at your place, a creature may have escaped. A niffler, to be precise. Unfortunately, at the moment I’m quite busy with the hippogriff I’ve recently acquired, so if you would be so kind as to catch my niffler and return him by evening, I’ll be most grateful. N.S.”

An emergency worse than anything this year has provided at work, it’s closer to a disaster scale. Crumpling the piece of parchment into his pocket and running down the stairs as quickly as possible, pushing MACUSA employees aside, Graves makes it to the exit.

“Must be an urgent meeting,” they say.

“I’m going to kill Newt Scamander,” Graves thinks.

The moment his boots touch the pavement, he apparates into his apartment only to be thrown on his backside by something small and quite forceful.

“Percival!” cries Credence from the other side of the living room, armed with a pillow, a wand and stood on the sofa. A small swirl of black jumps around the room with a funny squeaky noise, pushing off of the bookcases and armchairs. Books fall out of its places, mementos end up in pieces on the floor, paper swirls in the air only adding to the chaos. Graves flinches and squeezes his eyes shut as a Foe-glass shatters in the corner, sending the shards everywhere around.

Graves scrambles up from the floor and runs across the room to join Credence on the sofa. His hands squeeze the boy’s shoulders.

“Are you alright, Credence?”

He nods. Both men are helplessly standing on the sofa seat while a destructive ball of fur is crashing their apartment.

“Are we going to do something about it, Mr. Graves?” Credence speaks quietly, his hand still gripping onto the pillow, making his knuckles white. His wand hand is pressed to his chest and Graves prays the wand doesn’t send sparkles right into the boy’s troubled face.

“I have a few ideas.”

Graves’ voice is meant to sound reassuring, but in fact he is quite clueless on how to catch this little beast. He may have been an exemplary student in Ilvermorny, but it was in the crafts of defensive and offensive magic, not a tiny gold-greedy type of creatures, bouncing about and destroying private property.

Gold!

Graves feels about his pocket for a chain and a golden watch hanging off it. A purchase of no particular importance, it’s a perfect bait. He secures it in a tight grip of his hand, fingers wrapped around the warm chain. He leans over to whisper in Credence’s ear, as if the crushing ball of fur can hear and understand them.

“Now, my boy, we must be very swift. Let’s try and lure this little guy out.”

In a quick motion Graves extracts the watch and lets it hang off his fingers in the air. The golden surface catches a glimmer of the sun, sending the niffler flying into the bookcase as he turns his funny little body around to speed at the treasure. It happens in a matter of seconds that the niffler suddenly tugs on the chain with all its weight.

Much to his discontent Graves realises how far-fetched his plan was as the chain slips through his fingers and disappears along with the creature. Cursing the niffler and Newt Scamander, the true culprit, Graves follows the shadowy ball in a pathetic jumping attempt - and sprawls on the rug. He watches from under his mighty eyebrows how the niffler sneaks behind the cupboard, making tremendous noise. There goes his tableware, Graves thinks, as clinking and shattering sounds come from inside the cabinet.

A high-pitched giggle on the right draws Graves’ attention and he turns his head to look at Credence, who stares down at him from the sofa with the most amused expression. His arm is still wrapped around the bloody pillow.

“Careful, Credence,” Graves grumbles with an involuntary smile, getting up and dusting off his trousers. “You are such a treasure that this little guy might steal you next.”

Credence looks at the man with reddened cheeks and smiles. Graves smiles back, helping him get down from the sofa and planting a kiss on his forehead.

“Now, let’s catch this culprit, shall we? No more baiting this time, however.”

Send me a Gravebone, Grindelgraves prompt in ask :) No NSWF, please!

[foursprouthappiness-blog]

The Book You Should Read Instead Of Binging Netflix, Based On Your Zodiac Sign

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The Book You Should Read Instead Of Binging Netflix, Based On Your Zodiac Sign

Unsplash / Aziz Acharki

Aries: March 21st – April 19th

Circe by Madeline Miller

“In the house of Helios, god of the sun and mightiest of the Titans, a daughter is born. But Circe is a strange child–not powerful, like her father, nor viciously alluring like her mother. Turning to the world of mortals for companionship, she discovers that she does possess power–the power of witchcraft, which can transform rivals into monsters and menace the gods themselves.

Threatened, Zeus banishes her to a deserted island, where she hones her occult craft, tames wild beasts and crosses paths with many of the most famous figures in all of mythology, including the Minotaur, Daedalus and his doomed son Icarus, the murderous Medea, and, of course, wily Odysseus.

But there is danger, too, for a woman who stands alone, and Circe unwittingly draws the wrath of both men and gods, ultimately finding herself pitted against one of the most terrifying and vengeful of the Olympians. To protect what she loves most, Circe must summon all her strength and choose, once and for all, whether she belongs with the gods she is born from, or the mortals she has come to love.“

Taurus: April 20th – May 20th

Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep by Philip K. Dick

“By 2021, the World War has killed millions, driving entire species into extinction and sending mankind off-planet. Those who remain covet any living creature, and for people who can’t afford one, companies built incredibly realistic simulacra: horses, birds, cats, sheep. They’ve even built humans. Immigrants to Mars receive androids so sophisticated they are indistinguishable from true men or women. Fearful of the havoc these artificial humans can wreak, the government bans them from Earth. Driven into hiding, unauthorized androids live among human beings, undetected. Rick Deckard, an officially sanctioned bounty hunter, is commissioned to find rogue androids and ‘retire’ them. But when cornered, androids fight back—with lethal force.”

Gemini: May 21st – June 20th

Sometimes I Lie by Alice Feeney

“Amber wakes up in a hospital. She can’t move. She can’t speak. She can’t open her eyes. She can hear everyone around her, but they have no idea. Amber doesn’t remember what happened, but she has a suspicion her husband had something to do with it. Alternating between her paralyzed present, the week before her accident, and a series of childhood diaries from twenty years ago, this brilliant psychological thriller asks: Is something really a lie if you believe it’s the truth?” 

Cancer: June 21st – July 22nd

An American Marriage by Tayari Jones

“Newlyweds Celestial and Roy are the embodiment of both the American Dream and the New South. He is a young executive, and she is an artist on the brink of an exciting career. But as they settle into the routine of their life together, they are ripped apart by circumstances neither could have imagined. Roy is arrested and sentenced to twelve years for a crime Celestial knows he didn’t commit. Though fiercely independent, Celestial finds herself bereft and unmoored, taking comfort in Andre, her childhood friend, and best man at their wedding. As Roy’s time in prison passes, she is unable to hold on to the love that has been her center. After five years, Roy’s conviction is suddenly overturned, and he returns to Atlanta ready to resume their life together.“

Leo: July 23rd – August 22nd

The Chalk Man by C.J. Tudor

“In 1986, Eddie and his friends are just kids on the verge of adolescence. They spend their days biking around their sleepy English village and looking for any taste of excitement they can get. The chalk men are their secret code: little chalk stick figures they leave for one another as messages only they can understand. But then a mysterious chalk man leads them right to a dismembered body, and nothing is ever the same.

In 2016, Eddie is fully grown, and thinks he’s put his past behind him. But then he gets a letter in the mail, containing a single chalk stick figure. When it turns out that his friends got the same message, they think it could be a prank . . . until one of them turns up dead.

That’s when Eddie realizes that saving himself means finally figuring out what really happened all those years ago.”

Virgo: August 23rd – September 22nd

The Woman In The Window by A.J. Finn

“Anna Fox lives alone—a recluse in her New York City home, unable to venture outside. She spends her day drinking wine (maybe too much), watching old movies, recalling happier times . . . and spying on her neighbors.

Then the Russells move into the house across the way: a father, a mother, their teenage son. The perfect family. But when Anna, gazing out her window one night, sees something she shouldn’t, her world begins to crumble—and its shocking secrets are laid bare.

What is real? What is imagined? Who is in danger? Who is in control? In this diabolically gripping thriller, no one—and nothing—is what it seems.”

Libra: September 23rd – October 22nd

Simon Vs The Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Alberalli

“Sixteen-year-old and not-so-openly gay Simon Spier prefers to save his drama for the school musical. But when an email falls into the wrong hands, his secret is at risk of being thrust into the spotlight. Now change-averse Simon has to find a way to step out of his comfort zone before he’s pushed out—without alienating his friends, compromising himself, or fumbling a shot at happiness with the most confusing, adorable guy he’s never met.”

Scorpio: October 23rd – November 21st

I’m Fine And Other Lies by Whitney Cummings

“Here are all the stories and mistakes I’ve made that were way too embarrassing to tell on stage in front of an actual audience; but thanks to not-so-modern technology, you can read about them here so I don’t have to risk having your judgmental eye contact crush my self-esteem. This book contains some delicious schadenfreude in which I recall such humiliating debacles as breaking my shoulder while trying to impress a guy, coming very close to spending my life in a Guatemalan prison, and having my lacerated ear sewn back on by a deaf guy after losing it in a torrid love affair. In addition to hoarding mortifying situations that’ll make you feel way better about your choices, I’ve also accumulated a lot of knowledge from therapists, psychotherapists, and psychopaths, which can probably help you avoid making the same mistakes I’ve made. Think of this book as everything you’d want from the Internet all in one place, except without the constant distractions of ads, online shopping, and porn.“

Sagittarius: November 22nd – December 21st

The Magic Misfits by Neil Patrick Harris

“When street magician Carter runs away, he never expects to find friends and magic in a sleepy New England town. But like any good trick, things change instantly as greedy B.B. Bosso and his crew of crooked carnies arrive to steal anything and everything they can get their sticky fingers on.

After a fateful encounter with the local purveyor of illusion, Dante Vernon, Carter teams up with five other like-minded illusionists. Together, using both teamwork and magic, they’ll set out to save the town of Mineral Wells from Bosso’s villainous clutches. These six Magic Misfits will soon discover adventure, friendship, and their own self-worth in this delightful new series.”

Capricorn: December 22nd – January 19th

Good Me Bad Me by Ali Land

“Milly’s mother is a serial killer. Though Milly loves her mother, the only way to make her stop is to turn her in to the police. Milly is given a fresh start: a new identity, a home with an affluent foster family, and a spot at an exclusive private school.

But Milly has secrets, and life at her new home becomes complicated. As her mother’s trial looms, with Milly as the star witness, Milly starts to wonder how much of her is nature, how much of her is nurture, and whether she is doomed to turn out like her mother after all.

When tensions rise and Milly feels trapped by her shiny new life, she has to decide: Will she be good? Or is she bad? She is, after all, her mother’s daughter.”

Aquarius: January 20th – February 18th

Every Day by David Leviathan

“Every day a different body. Every day a different life. Every day in love with the same girl.

There’s never any warning about where it will be or who it will be. A has made peace with that, even established guidelines by which to live: Never get too attached. Avoid being noticed. Do not interfere.

It’s all fine until the morning that A wakes up in the body of Justin and meets Justin’s girlfriend, Rhiannon. From that moment, the rules by which A has been living no longer apply. Because finally A has found someone he wants to be with—day in, day out, day after day.“

Pisces: February 19th – March 20th

The Disaster Artist by Greg Sestero

“In 2003, an independent film called The Room—starring and written, produced, and directed by a mysteriously wealthy social misfit named Tommy Wiseau—made its disastrous debut in Los Angeles. Described by one reviewer as ‘like getting stabbed in the head,’ the $6 million film earned a grand total of $1,800 at the box office and closed after two weeks. Ten years later, it’s an international cult phenomenon, whose legions of fans attend screenings featuring costumes, audience rituals, merchandising, and thousands of plastic spoons. Hailed by The Huffington Post as ‘possibly the most important piece of literature ever printed,’ The Disaster Artist is the hilarious, behind-the-scenes story of a deliciously awful cinematic phenomenon as well as the story of an odd and inspiring Hollywood friendship. Greg Sestero, Tommy’s costar, recounts the film’s bizarre journey to infamy, explaining how the movie’s many nonsensical scenes and bits of dialogue came to be and unraveling the mystery of Tommy Wiseau himself.”

[its-btrz-blog]

World Without End (by Ken Follet) Book Review

World Without End is a book by Ken Follet, published in 2007 by Viking. It is a sequel to The Pillars of The Earth, and a third book in The Kingsbridge series, A Column of Fire, will be published later this year.

What made me want to read it:

I've been recommended Ken Follet's thrillers, and when I saw he had written historical fiction, which is a genre I really like, I decided to start with that. So I read The Pillars of The Earth two years ago, and I meant to read the sequel, and since a third book is coming out later this year, decided this was the perfect time to catch up.

What is it about (no spoilers):

We follow the lives of four characters, in 14th century England, who start the book as children who meet in the midst of a mysterious plot going on in the town of Kingsbridge. As the book continues, we follow their lives as their grow up to be adults and see how they keep meeting and influencing each other. Although it is a sequel to The Pillars of The Earth, the stories aren't really related. It's set in the same town and some of the characters descend from characters in the first novel (in that you may get spoiled if you read this one first).

What I thought about it (no spoilers):

OK, first of all, you can see he does a lot of research. A lot. That's really good, since books like these aren't really enjoyable if they keep being inaccurate. However, there's one thing : you're not supposed to drop all your research in your book. If it doesn't fit, if it's not important, don't try to weave it into random scenes. Or rather, do, if you can without it being obvious. The point of historical fiction, is that it is, well, fiction. I don't want to read a history book in disguise. I remember finding this fault in the first book too, although it's less prominent here, so I guess he's improved on that point.

Then let's talk about story and characters. And here's where things start going down. If you read Pillars, you read this one. I'm not being dramatic, this is the same story, with the same characters. The main characters changed names and have slightly different but equivalent professions, keep playing the same roles and are still either totally good or bad. None of them feel real. We have the main girl who's the smartest person alive, who's so ahead of her time and keeps defying social norms, the (not handsome, but desirable by everyone around for some reason) main boy, who's the love interest, that is specially talented at a craft and is the best at it, even without little to no training, and who wants to build the greatest thing he can with that craft. Of course they are both, at times, hailed as heroes, or misunderstood and hated by everyone else (who is, of course, not on their intellectual level). We have the good clergy, then the evil clergy (ugly, greedy for power, and wants to stop progress from happening), and the evil relative of one of the main characters (how can they be so different? Good sibling/bad sibling thing again). None of these characters, of course, has what you can call a personality. They have ambitions, but their decisions are made based on what is required for the plot to advance and they are either very stupid or very clever, depending on who is supposed to get the upper hand at the time (the good guys or the bad guys). Thus, the book is composed of a series of conflicts between the good and the evil characters, with the bad guys always winning until the time has come for the book to end. While this happens (the book covers some decades of their lives), the main couple, who you know has to end up together eventually, is continuously on and off (And personally, I wasn’t rooting for them, they weren’t interesting enough individually or together).

You my note my use of good and bad/evil. The main characters basically have one of these labels, and aside from that, there aren't really any morally gray areas. The good guys will almost always be good and fight for the good of everyone, and even their questionable decisions are painted in a positive light, because ultimately, there's a good explanation for why they are acting that way (adultery isn't bad if it's with the spouse of an evil person, chastity vows don't matter is it's true love, murder is good if it's a bad person who dies, breaking laws is fine if the law is unjust), while the bad guys will always be against everything that is good and just, because all they care about is themselves. Add to that the fact that the good characters' mentality is equivalent to that of a person in the 21st century.

Lastly, what is this man's obsession with breasts? Round breasts, firm breasts, small breasts, big breasts, breasts like eggs (I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean). The surest way of initiating sex or seduction is surely to fondle someone's breasts! I think almost every relevant female character has her breasts described at some point. He has a fixation with sex, though he doesn't vary his descriptions much.

Conclusion:

Although the previous book had the same faults, I rated it 3 stars, because it can in fact be an entertaining story. However, this one was published 10 years later, and shows no improvement. What made me previously want to keep reading, here only suffocated me and irritated me. For this reason I'll rate this one two stars.

If you like historical fiction, you can give it a try. Specially if you haven't read The Pillars of the Earth.

[This review can also be found here]