#and decided to settle for two details from the larger piece instead

[sydney-movers-packers]

The Ultimate Moving Checklist and To-Do Timeline

No matter if your previous relocation was across vast landscapes or just a few blocks away, it likely concluded with a firm resolution: "Never again!" Yet, life has its twists, and settling permanently in one spot isn't always an option. The sight of cardboard boxes and rolls of packing tape might be on your horizon once more. But this time, with Sydney Movers & Packers at your service, you're set for a smoother, stress-free transition.

The Ultimate Moving Checklist and To-Do Timeline

Sort and purge Go through every room of your house and decide what you'd like to keep and what you can get rid of. Think about whether any items will require special packing or extra insurance coverage. Use this binder to keep track of everything—all your estimates, your receipts, and an inventory of all the items you're moving. Organize school records Go to your children's school and arrange for their records to be transferred to their new school district. Six Weeks Before Order supplies Order moving boxes and other supplies such as tape, Bubble Wrap, and permanent markers. Don't forget to order specialty containers, such as dish barrels or wardrobe boxes. Use it or lose it Start using up things that you don't want to move, like frozen or perishable foods and cleaning supplies. Take measurements Check room dimensions at your new home, if possible, and make sure larger pieces of furniture will fit through the door. Stop Buying Moving Boxes for Every Move—Do This Instead One Month Before Choose your mover and confirm the arrangements Select a company and get written confirmation of your moving date, costs, and other details.

Begin packing Start packing the things that you use most infrequently, such as the waffle iron and croquet set. While packing, note items of special value that might require additional insurance from your moving company. Make sure to declare, in writing, any items valued over $100 per pound, such as a computer.

Label Clearly label and number each box with its contents and the room it's destined for. This will help you to keep an inventory of your belongings. Pack and label "essentials" boxes of items you'll need right away.

Separate valuables Add items such as jewelry and important files to a safe box that you'll personally transport to your new home. Make sure to put the mover's estimate in this box. You'll need it for reference on moving day.

Do a change of address Go to your local post office and fill out a change-of-address form, or do it online at usps.gov. But in case there are stragglers, it's always wise to ask a close neighbor to look out for mail after you've moved. Check in with them two weeks after the move, and again two weeks after that.

Notify important parties Alert the following of your move: banks, brokerage firms, your employer's human resources department, magazine and newspapers you subscribe to, and credit card, insurance, and utility companies.

Forward medical records Arrange for medical records to be sent to any new healthcare providers or obtain copies of them yourself.

8 Smart Ways to Save on Moving Costs, According to Pros

Two Weeks Before Arrange to be off from work on moving day Notify your office that you plan to supervise the move and therefore need the day off.

Get a tune-up Take your car to a garage, and ask the mechanic to consider what services might be needed if you're moving to a new climate.

Clean out your safe-deposit box If you'll be changing banks, remove the contents of your safe-deposit box and put them in the safe box that you'll take with you on moving day.

[crocodile-tears-game]

Modelling

I have learnt a lot about blender and how to make things look how I would like them to look as far as the models go. I have created a plane with walls around it, four variations of the houses, a fountain, a market stall and some crates. In my blockout I had one variation of house and the plane with walls around it. I am creating this post to update it if I choose to add a new model and tell you how I created the models, what mistakes I made and what I learnt from trying to learn 3D modelling.

Originally, 3D modelling started to scare me, I had no experience with Blender and a lot of my project is going to be riding off of these models so I was afraid I wasn't going to be able to learn Blender and make decent models in the time is was given but it ended up going really well as far as the environment goes. For my play environment, my original idea required it to be a lot larger than it is because ideally I wanted this to be a full game, but this would have been extremely hard to do, so I settled for just creating the spawn environment.

I started by deciding what I wanted my layout to look like. I had a few varying ideas which I made a blog post about but I ended up with a basic circle layout, with exits from the spawn area in every compass, (although you will not be able to leave in this version of the game).

After I had the layout, I needed to create an environment to imprison the player within the confines of some walls to stop them ruining their own playing experience. I decided to make a circle plane with walls around it. To do this, I added a circle in blended and extruded the edges to how high I wanted the walls to be. I then selected the edges and used a grid fill to fill in the bottom of it. I then added a solidify modifier of 0.05 to make everything thicker.

Next I decided to make a basic model of a house by adding planes, extruding them, adding new planes and extruding them and adding loop cuts and sizing them down to give each room some character. I go into more detail with how I made this on my block out blog post.

By recreating this house model but changing the position of the rooves, second room and the tower, I created a second iteration of this house model.

After this, I wanted two iterations of this model where the doorway was merged with a market because I wanted the market look to also be shared with some of the houses. Both the first and second houses now have versions of themselves with a market out the front of them, with minor changes in the base model as well.

This one has a slightly flatter base room.

This one is slightly longer. I had some problems when trying to create this house originally. This was the first model I made so the first versions of it ended up quite a lot worse but I learnt a lot from them. Most of the problems showed themselves when I added this model to my unreal project. When I added the first model I made, Some of the faces weren't showing themselves to the player and it didn't look right. To fix this, I extruded faces into the model instead of just deleting faces. The second problem I hade is that I angled the first room the make it look more alien but it meant I couldn't connect the house in my project properly so I remade the base model to fix both of these problems.

After this, I wanted a center piece for the environment so I decided to make a fountain model. I started very similar to how I made the outer walls of my environment by extruding the edges of a circle, grid filling the bottom and then adding a solidify modifier. After this, I added another slightly smaller circle and extruded it slightly above the previous one, I then did this again. The first time I tried this, I didn't initially add three layers and it looked pretty basic. On top of that, I didn't know how to make it properly because the first time I attempted it, I was still new to blender.

Next, I decided I needed some sort of filler model to put into places that feel empty. I thought a crate would make sense. Now that I have this model, I can create different variations with different fruits or other objects in them. I could also fill the box in and add a texture instead.

The next thing I wanted to make was some sort of tower. In my head, I always though of adding something like this because one of the characters I have added is a grapple character and it needs areas to go that the other characters cannot. I created this one exactly how I created the house models but a lot taller and a lot thinner.

Next I wanted to create a wall model to lock of certain areas of the map. Which is just a scaled rotated plane

The next model I am going to create is a market stall. To make this, I started

Now I just have to create the player models and textures.

[isfjmel-phleg]

@scarvenartist and @lady-merian​ frames!

[thefirstknife]

The Fall of a Pyramid Ship

Besties, I have a thought. Many of them actually.

I recently went on a long tangent about how there is a possibility that some time during Season of the Lost a Pyramid will appear in the Dreaming City and we will be bringing it down. That Pyramid will then end up in Savathun's throne world which is where we will be going into it for the Witch Queen Raid. Post with the details here.

The rest under the cut because it's long:

The original post was mostly spurred someone asking about Sjur's dream from the lore on Sleepless. The relevant parts:

"I was dreaming," Sjur says, wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand. "I saw you on a great black triangle. You split it in two with your bare hands."

"Mm."

"And I was dead, I think." She cracks her neck with a deliciously loud pop. "Or… trapped? Like in a maze. But pretty close to figuring my way out."

"Mhm."

Sjur stands up to stretch. She does not mind that Mara is not listening. Let her read. "And there was another woman with you."

"On the triangle," Mara murmurs.

"Mm. Yeah. She was helping. Then your brother showed up, and…" She shakes out her arms, frowning thoughtfully. The dream is already fading. "He said, 'Tropaea.' Or maybe it was, uh, 'Tropical.' Anyway."

I bolded the most relevant sentences. The original post really wasn't about the whole Pyramid business, but I had to add my thoughts now that we know more than we did back when this lore was released. Not only the stuff I mentioned in the post, but also now we know that Savathun is (allegedly) trying to help us defeat the Black Fleet and the same was said about the reason why Mara wants her Techeuns back.

And I was just re-reading lore, as I do, and I remembered something. The lore book Stolen Intelligence details some of the records made by Ikora's Hidden and other Vanguard agents. Specifically, the page Fragment is what caught my attention. In it, an agent FEN-092 (most likely the one, the only, the man, the legend: Fenchurch Everis) reports a strange incident on the Moon:

2. Around 1900 hours yesterday afternoon, I began to experience a crushing headache and excused myself from patrol to recuperate. Though I originally intended to lay down for a nap, I fell asleep instead, and experienced multiple vivid dreams over the next 11.5 hours. In all of these dreams, I was trying to catch up with agent ERI-223 in a crowd. She was always out of reach, whether by 200 m or 20 m. I had the sense that I needed to speak to her.

3. When I woke, I found that my headache had not improved. I prepared my armor and exited my bivouac to find a single stationary Thrall crouched nearby. It stood as I approached, but made no motion to attack me. I fired one shot, killing it immediately. Upon stepping forward to examine its corpse, I saw a solid black fragment of an unknown material embedded in its chest cavity. The fragment resembled a flake or a shard of some larger object, not dissimilar to a high-gain photovoltaic panel.

ERI-223 is Eris Morn. The fragment was peculiar at the time this was released (Forsaken), but now post-Shadowkeep and post-Beyond Light, we can definitely identify this artifact as a piece of the Pyramid. Fenchurch's Ghost also reports:

5. I requested that my Ghost attempt to contain and transmat the fragment for quarantine on my jumpship. He was unable to establish a Light link with the object, describing the fragment as "slippery" and "tiring" to try to catch hold of.

To me, it is most likely that this is literally a shard of the Pyramid, like those little pieces you can see on Europa when a Pyramid scale ripples. But more important is what follows:

8. At this point, I broke protocol and did not request additional backup. Instead, I picked up the fragment by hand and immediately experienced a vivid hallucination: I stood over VIP #0704's shoulder as she dressed a seven-inch gash on agent ERI-223's thigh. Both #0704 and ERI-223 were dressed for combat. Hundreds of fragments of the unknown material hung in the air around us, apparent shrapnel from the wreckage of a nearby ship of unrecognizable make and model. ERI-223 looked directly toward me and said, "Патетическая."

Obviously none of this made any sort of reasonable sense at the time. But now?

"Hundreds of fragments of the unknown material hung in the air around us, apparent shrapnel from the wreckage of a nearby ship of unrecognizable make and model" is a pretty clear hint at what we now know is a Pyramid ship. Specifically, a wreckage of one.

As we've established, ERI-223 is Eris Morn. Who is VIP #0704? As of now, it is undecided. I've done a bit of a search and most of the guesses are 2 years old and they usually settled on it being Eriana-3 OR Mara Sov. I think it's pretty obvious that it's Mara, if we pair it with the Sleepless lore tab.

But there's another link. The lore book The Dreaming City has a page called Letters. This lore book in general is kinda all over the place and details some lore that doesn't really have a place elsewhere, but it generally revolves around the Awoken and characters adjacent to them. There is a lot about Mara, including information about how Eleusinia and the Oracle Engine were created, as well as her relationship with Riven.

Anyway, in Letters, we see several letters written by Eris to various people, but never delivered. We kinda have to assume a lot here because nothing is explicitly named, but we can for sure say that these letters were written by Eris. To whom? It's up to debate. Some of these seem to be for Mara, one is most certainly for Asher and one is most likely for Ikora. The one I want to focus on is one I can't decide where to place but it features a word we've seen before:

Undelivered, burnt.

Патетическая. The swelling of strong sentiment in your chest even as you mourn the world that is and was and will be. I did not go to Mars. I will not go to the Dreaming City. There is only the plan.

"Патетическая" is Russian and it means "pathetic." I'm thoroughly lost on why this is repeated twice as coming from Eris in two different instances. Truth to Power claims that Eris was born during the Golden Age in Russia, but Stolen Intelligence disproves this. Hm.

Either way, there are several things that seem to fit together in all of this:

1. Destruction of the Pyramid ship (Sleepless, Fragment) 2. Eris and Mara involved with some sort of an ongoing plan (Sleepless, Fragment, Letters) 3. A battle that involves a Pyramid, Eris (who ends up wounded), Mara and Crow (Sleepless, Fragment) 4. Eris saying the same peculiar word seemingly completely out of context (Fragment, Letters)

I want to point out something about the Letters entry. It's not chronological. As in, the entries in that lore page aren't all from the past or current plot from when the lore book was released. Observe the final part of Letters (which released in Forsaken):

Delivered.

I have been inside. I have nothing but beautiful and violent words for my report. I will meet you at your throne.

Lore book Letters from Eris, from Shadowkeep, page Regarding the Pyramid:

[DELIVERED, RECONSTRUCTED.]

It's coming, my Queen.

It's coming for US.

We have been manipulated. We are right where it wants us. The Darkness orchestrated its plan magnificently; the Nightmares were so impeccably calculated to draw us in, make us vulnerable, and leave us exposed.

The Darkness plans to use us. We are to do its bidding. I don't know how to stop it.

I detect no fear on the part of our nemesis. We aren't even a concern. We pose no threat.

The Darkness needs a reason to fear our Light, and I intend to provide it.

I have been inside. I have nothing but beautiful and violent words for my report. I will meet you at your throne.

This makes the entire Letters lore page entirely up for debate.

I believe these entries are connected and that both Fenchurch's hallucination after touching a piece of the Pyramid and Sjur's dream are telling us about the same future event that involves Eris, Mara and a destruction of a Pyramid ship. And I absolutely believe that we will see this at the end of the season, considering there's a downed Pyramid ship in Savathun's throne world. Other connecting details are very confusing for now and may have something to do with Savathun's involvement. After all, she also claims to be interested in fighting back the Black Fleet and ends up in possession of the Pyramid.

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

Oh? You have extended the event I see. In that case...

Route 1

A- 7 and 11

B- Fyodor

C- Fluff

D- playing a chess game 😁

I’ve only had this in my inbox since the 19th…

Fyodor x reader

#7 You think you can win? & #11 You’re adorable when you pout.

Fluff-

Words- 1518

Warnings- none well some religious themes. (you know the usual Fyodor god complex)

~

Often nights like this were spent huddled around the fire. Getting the strong, tall, yet malnourished god to settle down and rest was indeed a rare occurrence. Stressed from the recent hardships of the last mission he cuddled against his lover. The warmth of the fire helped to keep his body warm. The shivering he never noticed calming with the warmth of the fur blanket, the fire, and the presence of his lover. It was truly an unusual sight to behold, even as the moonlight shed its dazzling beams through stained-glass windows. If anybody were to catch sight of this spectacle, they may be confused and accuse Fyodor of not being the real Fyodor. This was the side of him, even the man's lover hardly saw. A gentle calm in the thunder of his complexes. He showed you the calm side of god because he thought his lover (like himself) was above all other beings on this earth. If he were the god of this world, that made them his guardian angel. Maybe one day this mortal would be more to him than that, they were already settled inside his cold heart, but maybe one day he would make them a deity within a similar perspective as he was. 

As you sat cuddled against him, you noted the distraction within his eyes. To others, he still appeared well calculated and focused, but to you, somebody who knew him, he was far from calm. He never went into details about who he was outside your life or what he did. The only starts to him you truly knew were what he did tell you. The risk of loving him, his views on this hell-bent earth, how some people considered him, and of course, you knew he killed. It wasn’t a problem for you though, only because you had found out after he’d stolen your heart, and made you his in both mind and body. You believed he was making a better world, for the Fyodor you knew was different from the Fyodor the agency, mafia, and even the Decay of angels knew. Unlike the others, you knew that there were still shards of humanity within him. The way he protects you against people, the way he’d look at you when he was truly exhausted, and on the verge of passing out. He spoiled you with his music, his touch, words, and gifts. He told you constantly how only you knew the way he could be. From a wrathful and destructive god to a pleasant fair one. He also knew of your intelligence, he understood you were not somebody who would be easily taken advantage of. 

Glancing towards him with a smirk, you placed your lips against the pale male's luke-warm skin. He hummed turning to look at you with disinterested yet excited eyes. He always knew when small unexpected acts of affection appeared from you, something was going on within your head. His violet eyes danced around your expression before his lips parted, and the tired heavy voice that belonged to him met your ear. “Is there something you'd like to request? Use your words, little mouse.” he was always one to tease you, even at times like this he’d refer to you in small degrading names. 

With a small eye roll, you flicked his forehead. “Come on, let’s play a game of chess. You always wind down better doing something you enjoy.” You often requested him to play his cello in times like this, but instead, you offered to play against him. You were not horrible at the game, but he was a god at everything he did. In honesty, you may be an expert player, but challenging him was never a good idea. You had yet to ever request such a thing with him but here you were, doing that exact thing. He stood up immediately from the couch. His confident smirk, placing itself back on his lips. Looking down at you he offered out his hand. Pulling you to your feet as you walked to his chess table. 

Sitting across from him, you leaned your head on your hand with a confident smile. His eyes watched you with a brimming curiosity in their violet hues. He understood the position you settled in was mocking his own posture. He tended to rest his chin atop his hands whenever he was getting cocky or had a brilliant idea. This thought made him chuckle; he was not cocky. In his thoughts, that was the attitude a god such as himself ought to have. However, to see you mocking his stance was an amusing sight. There was never a truly dull moment with you in his sight.

Moving both his hands under his chin, he tilted his head ever so slightly. His eyes staring into yours as he smirked. "You think you can win?" he asked with his gaze never faltering or becoming less intense. That gaze alone was enough to cause a slight contraction in your movement. While many would have not seen the alteration of your eyes, the slight dilation, the momentary flex of your back and corner of your mouth, it was all too easy for Fyodor to notice. A contempt, larger smirk spread evenly across his face at the sight. His eyes grew dangerously clouded as he turned the board and provided you with white, the first move. The mock that rested with that action had your blood boiling with annoyance

Rolling your eyes you smiled kindly but held within your tongue a sharp snarl. “We play for a max of 45 then. No longer.” In an attempt to appear threatening, you spoke to him using the Russian you had learned. This seemed to gather his attention rather sharply. He hummed with a nod but did not reply, waiting for you to start the game.

Starting the game by moving a pawn to D5 he snickered watching you. With a lazy gesture, he moved his own pawn to D6. From there the two of you moved your pieces throughout the board. He played recklessly, like a true master, he was fine with sacrificing any piece he saw fit. While you played to counter this way of playing. Avoiding the pawns he wanted to be sacrificed. It took him all of five to work around that counter. The two of you changed the play type every few minutes. With a confident smirk, you played out your final two moves. If he were to place his pieces the way you expected then you would win with 5 minutes left to spare.

It was no shock the clever Russian man had seen this three turns ago. Having made a small counter if you went the way you went. So as that piece moved forward he brought his queen the opposite of what you needed to capture his king and win. Seeing the slight shock among your eyes as you panicked and made a move to counter, induced a soft chuckle. Holding back a sigh as you noted you still had the upper hand, at least that was what he was letting you on to think. As a master in deceiving his opponents and giving them false hope, it was something he rather enjoyed. So with the movement of one piece, he lifted a hand and swiped your king. “Checkmate darling,” he smirked, watching your eyes widen and that confidence from earlier fall. He’d admit it eventually, tell you how you lasted the longest against him than any other had. He may have shed that compliment to you now, but watching the shock settle into an angry pout led him to chuckle. Reaching a hand across the table he placed it against your cheek. Running his thumb close to your lip he watched the shiver run down your spine. The chilly cold of his hands against your warmth was a dark contrast between the two of you. “You’re adorable when you pout.” he hummed leaning in to peck your forehead. He was not one to show so much affection but as you melted within his touch he decided to show you more of his gentle side. “We shall play again, twas not the most interesting, but it was not boring either. You managed to surprise me, little mouse.'' The way he remains collected and his words smooth, yet teasing and threatening, was always a shiver that ran through you. 

He released your cheek and stood. His feet carrying him to stand next to where you were seated. With a single fluid tug, you were standing and against his chest as he played with your hair. Looking down at your eyes he noted the tired embers starting to dull. Debating between resting with you tonight, or finishing the work you had pulled him from, inflicted a tender sigh. Lifting you into his arms he carried you off to bed. Lying beside you, he buried his face into your neck. Relaxed within the warmth of the sheets and your body his eyes betrayed him as he fell into sleep with you.

[themurphyzone]

PatB: Beauty and the Beast AU

This is based off the animated movie because frankly I don’t like the live action remake (what did they do to Beast? He’s just a hairy human with horns in the live action film). 

Cause c’mon if we’re doing Disney AUs y’all knew this movie would crop up eventually. Also consider this is a test post and not all details will be ironed out from the start. 

Characters 

Belle: Pinky 

Beast: Brain

Gaston: Snowball 

Lefou: I don’t think he’s necessary but either Larry or Egwind could probably fill in. 

Maurice: Pinky’s dad.

Enchantress: Undecided. CEO Norita or Minerva Mink maybe? 

Philippe: Pharfignewton 

Main Trio of Servants: Yakko (candelabra), Wakko (clock), Dot (teacup) 

Other Animaniacs characters as servants or villagers as needed. Rita the Cat is a harp and the main singer for the big ballroom dance. Runt is a footstool. 

Prologue

1. Brain and Snowball have history. They grew up in a castle together, but Snowball craved more power and after a very harsh argument with Brain, he left the castle to make his own way into the world. Snowball’s betrayal stung Brain deeply, and Brain became angrier and unhappy and tries to assert more control over the castle while trying to keep his pride and dignity intact. 

2. A few weeks after Snowball’s betrayal on a harsh winter’s night, Brain loses his temper on a traveler wanting shelter from the cold, and he and the entire castle are cursed as a result. He’s given the rose and mirror and told that he needs to find love in 2 years or be cursed for all time. Brain feels horribly guilty for dragging the servants into his mess but doesn’t know how to admit it.  

2 Years Later

1. Pinky’s lived in a quiet village his entire life. His dad is an extremely amateur inventor (he doesn’t really have any concept of the scientific process and operates on a ‘does it work or does it explode’ basis). Pinky likes to go horseback riding with Pharfignewton in his spare time and often wishes to know what’s beyond the village, but his dad needs him. 

2. Since leaving the castle, Snowball settled into Pinky’s village and quickly became the leader, using his status as a way to garner wealth and easily impressionable followers before setting his sights on other kingdoms. There’s quite a few statues built in his honor around town. Since Pinky is often lost in his own little world at times, he doesn’t admire Snowball the way the others do. Snowball is intrigued by Pinky’s resistance. 

3. Pinky’s dad takes Pharfig and his invention to the fair, gets lost, winds up at the castle. He meets the Warner siblings, who entertain their guest until Brain shows up, enraged by the blatant trespassing and belief that he’d come to steal his servants. Brain locks him in a cell until he can properly work out a way to keep the mouse from revealing what he’d seen. 

4. Snowball makes an advance on Pinky. Pinky goes out to the field to think for a while after successfully tossing Snowball out of the house, and Pharfig comes back in a panic, without his dad or the cart. Pharfig takes Pinky to the castle, where Pinky discovers his dad being held in a cell. Brain gets mad at the trespassing again, but it quickly melts into confusion when Pinky offers to take his dad’s place as prisoner. Brain takes the deal, but he doesn’t let Pinky say goodbye to his dad as he’s dragged out of the castle and Pinky is left to cry. 

5. Rest of the interactions between Pinky and Brain pre-wolf attack play out similarly to the movie (personally I don’t think Brain would let Pinky starve though). Yakko when Brain almost breaks the door to get Pinky to come out of his room: “Look, I can barely string two words together around girls but even I know that you shouldn’t break down people’s doors.” 

Dot: “YOU SET FIRE TO MY DOOR LAST WEEK.” 

6. The Warner sibs fully realize the irony of them trying to help someone behave enough for the curse to break and decide to go apologize to Dr. Scratchy...later. 

7. Pinky can carry Brain even though Brain is much bigger than him (also I imagine Brain as a beast is more rat-sized in this AU so by mouse standards he’d be big but he has to be small enough so the ballroom scene can work). He yeeted Brain into a snowbank once and destroyed him in a snowball fight. 

8. Yakko is the big Shakespeare reader of the group and puts on reenactments for their entertainment. 

9. Brain has a lab in the castle where he likes to experiment with scrap parts of machinery, but his larger paws make it difficult for him to handle anything with finesse, causing a huge amount of frustration. 

10. Dot is the MVP again. Brain shouldn’t take romantic advice from Yakko and Wakko. 

11. There’s an enormous field behind the castle which was used for horseback riding between royals before the curse. Brain gifts the entire thing to Pinky on Dot’s advice and Pinky adores it to pieces.

12. Dot helped Pinky with his pretty golden dress before the dance. Yakko and Wakko help Brain with the formal clothing, but have to call in Dot for fixing the fur around his face to something that wouldn’t damage Brain’s pride.

13. “Because I love him” after Brain releases Pinky so he can take his ailing father home is a huge step for Brain, but its not enough to break the curse. They wait for the last petal to fall, and Yakko panics because he can’t find Dot anywhere. Unknown to him, Dot left the castle with Pinky. Brain goes completely numb and can only stare out a window in despair.  

13. Snowball threatens to have Pinky’s dad brought to a lab where he’ll be experimented on if Pinky doesn’t agree to marriage. Pinky claims he was at a castle and shows the mirror for proof, then admits that he befriended the Beast shown in it. Snowball instantly recognizes who it is, and realizes how he can hurt Brain all over again: by taking Pinky for himself. Pinky and his dad are locked in a cellar as Snowball gathers a mob to go kill Brain and claim the castle for himself. Dot and Pharfignewton save them, and they go rushing off to the castle to warn of the attack. 

14. The servants defend the castle. Snowball escapes the chaos and goes to hunt down Brain himself. Brain doesn’t fight back, and Snowball taunts him about loving Pinky. Before Snowball can kill him, Brain hears Pinky’s voice calling out a warning and he regains the will to fight back. Dot reunites with her brothers and together they fend off the remaining villagers. 

15. Snowball and Brain fight on the rooftop. Brain almost kills Snowball, but shows mercy and tells him to leave instead. As Pinky and Brain reunite, Snowball fatally stabs Brain, but loses his balance in the process and falls to his death. 

16. Death, Pinky’s love confession, and transformation scene. Everyone lives happily after ever. Except Snowball. Who’s dead. 

Bonus:

Brain during the group hug after the transformation: “Wait, how come everyone’s taller than me now?” 

[cozy-the-overlord]

Dances and Daggers

Summary: The Summer Festival is upon Asgard, as is the tradition of the dagger ceremony, where each unmarried gentleman chooses a lady to bestow with the honor of carrying his dagger for the night. As Prince Thor’s betrothed, Teki’s only goal is to accept his dagger with grace and hope that her violent stepfather doesn’t find fault with her in the process. But Prince Thor is unpredictable, and when he ignores his engagement on a whim Teki finds herself in a desperate situation. Luckily, Thor isn’t the only prince in Asgard…

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Chapter 18: The End

Previous Chapter  |  

Word Count: 1,793

A/N: Oh my goodness, we're here. We're at the last chapter. I can't believe it. Thank you all so much for reading and liking and commenting-- you've all made the last seventeen weeks absolutely wonderful, and I'm so grateful :)

TW: Mentions of violence, child abuse, description of a dead body

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @moumouton4 @berriemalfoy @whatafuckingdumbass @sophlubbwriting

if you want to be tagged, feel free to just send me an ask/message! :)

Read it on Ao3!

The Winter Festival was in full swing. Teki surveyed the crowd from her place on the royal platform. She still wasn’t entirely comfortable sitting so high above everyone else, but the spot wasn’t anywhere near as unnerving as she had first found it. Besides her, Brant munched contentedly on the meat she had chopped into tiny pieces for him. In the beginning, he had been so frightened of sitting atop the podium that he was afraid to even ask her to cut his food, but after several months he had grown quite at ease with the whole thing.

“Teki!” he’d whisper excitedly, pulling on her sleeve. ”You can see everyone in the hall from here!”

She couldn’t help but grin.

On her other side, Loki grasped her hand.

“Would you like to dance?”

Teki returned his eager smile. “Of course!”

People parted for them as he led her through the crowd, the skirt of her emerald dress billowing around her legs, a silky cloud of green. Loki’s dagger hung at her hip. She had been wearing it every night as of late. It brought a strange sort of tranquility to feel it at her side, something that she hadn’t thought was every possible. It had been hard to look at it at first, to hold it in her hands and know that it had allowed her to take a life. Osvald’s blank stare haunted her whenever she closed her eyes.

But … there was something powerful in it as well, something she couldn’t quite explain. For so long, she had been this helpless little girl who kept her head down and hands clasped in her lap, whose only defense had ever been to close her eyes and hope for the danger to pass, but now … she wasn’t. Everyone knew about her now, not as the fiancé to a prince who held no interest in her, but as a survivor who vanquished the monster who murdered her father. It was an odd feeling. Teki had never expected to command respect of any kind from her fellow Asgardians—even with a future as queen she had always known that she’d exist only in Thor’s shadow—but now, people bowed their heads when she passed.

Loki pulled her on to the dance floor with a twirl, grinning as her dress fanned out around her. Teki giggled.

“Remember the first time you asked me to dance?” she asked suddenly. It seemed eons ago that he had first found her crying on the balcony, and yet somehow it had only been less than a year.

The prince nodded. “I was so nervous,” he confided as he held her closer to him.

Teki laughed incredulously. “You were nervous!”

“I was!” he insisted. “You seemed so sad. I wanted to make you feel better, but I was afraid I was only making things worse.” He paused. “And you were meant for Thor, so I wasn’t certain I’d even be welcome.”

She sighed. That seemed eons ago too—a time where Loki didn’t know her better than she knew herself.

“Well,” she mumbled, cheeks burning. “You’re always welcome.”

He laughed. “Good to know.”

Teki laughed as well, but she hoped he knew how true her words were. She didn’t know what she would have done without Loki these past few months. He had been by her side throughout all the insanity that had followed her mother’s arrest and her stepfather’s demise, whether it was something as grand as testifying before the court that Osvald was killed in self-defense or as simple as sitting next to her at her piano as she played the first few lines of the piece she was composing herself.

He had been with her when she received word that they had found what they believed to be her father’s skeletal remains. Her mother’s confession had included the details of where and how Steinn’s body had been disposed of, down to the gory details that Teki had never wanted to know, how they dismembered him so Osvald could sneak him off world in a rugsack and bury him on Alfheim. Teki’s only attempt to read through the whole thing had ended with her coughing up her breakfast into a chamber pot.

But thanks to Áslaug’s description, they knew where to look, and within a fortnight they found him. Peeling back that blanket to look at her father’s remains had been an experience she couldn’t quite describe. The two felt so disconnected—how could a man so larger than life who she could picture so clearly in her memory be reduced to nothing but a box of dusty bones? For several hours, all she felt was numbness. It wasn’t until late that night that the reality truly struck her. Brant stumbled into her room to find hunched over on her bed, sobbing ferociously into her pillowcase.

They held a funeral for him. It was nothing elaborate, there wasn’t a big production or a huge crowd in attendance, but it was something. Teki didn’t know the next thing about archery, so instead of shooting a flaming arrow, she lit his pyre with a torch before sending it across the water. They probably could’ve gotten a professional archer for it—Loki had offered to shoot it himself—but it had to be her. Teki couldn’t explain it, but it had to be her.

She sighed as her father drifted across the waterfall, across the threshold beyond. It was as if an invisible weight she had carried with her since she was small had floated away as well. He could rest easy now, high in Valhalla. Perhaps she could too.

But there was one thing stopping her from embracing that peace.

Teki followed the guard down through the catacombs of ancient stone, head low. It seemed colder down here, far below the palace. At least, she told herself that’s why she was shivering.

Behind translucent shields of glowing light, prisoners loomed at her as they passed. Teki kept her eyes straight ahead. Based on their biting leers, she got the feeling that they didn’t see a lot of visitors around here.

Her mother sat on the cot in the corner of her cell, picking at her nails. For a moment, Teki almost didn’t recognize her. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, her dress plain and shapeless. She couldn’t recall the last time she had seen her mother without her face painted.

Her eyes had lit up when she noticed Teki lingering on the other side of the ray shield.

“Tekla!” she smiled, her voice hoarse. “I hoped you’d come to see me!”

She wasn’t lying. Áslaug had been sending messages to her daughter through the guards nearly every day since she had been arrested, begging her to pay her a visit.

“You realize you don’t have to do it, right?” Loki had asked her. “You’re not beholden to that woman in any way. If you never want to see her again, you don’t have to.”

Teki knew that. And a part of her would be perfectly content to live out her life without her mother ever being in it. But there was another part that wanted to know what Áslaug could possibly have to say to her.

At first, it didn’t seem like much. “How’s Brant?” she asked after a moment of awkward silence.

“He’s well.” Teki’s voice was stiff. When she first decided to visit her mother, she had told herself she’d be polite. But now, looking at her sitting there pretending as if she had ever given a damn about either of her children, Teki decided she’d settle for civil.

Still, her mother continued on in her bubbly, fake happy voice. “Lovely dress.” She gestured to her emerald gown. “So it’s true then? You’re marrying the other one?”

Teki nodded.

Áslaug breathed a chuckle, shaking her head. “All of that, and you’re not even going to be queen.” She let out a sigh. “I suppose the Norns need a good laugh every now and then.”

“I don’t see anything to laugh about.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Look, I know you hate me,” she paused, as if waiting for Teki to contradict her. Teki only stared ahead in stony silence. She huffed. “I want you to understand, everything I did, I did for you.”

Teki raised her eyebrows. “You killed my father for me?”

“I had to!” Her mother sprung to her feet, leaning as close to the shield as she could without touching it. “Tekla, he didn’t care about your future! We had the chance to make you the most powerful woman in the Nine Realms, and he wanted to let it pass by. Would you be able to forgive me if I hadn’t taken that opportunity?”

“It would have been easier than forgiving you for murdering my father.”

She huffed. “Tekla—”

“What about Osvald?” Teki interrupted. “Did you marry him for me too?”

Her mother sighed. “I didn’t realize what he was like. Had I known—”

“You knew damn well what he was like,” she snapped. “He was willing to kill—”

“For me!” Áslaug pressed her hands to her chest. “He was willing to kill for me. That’s hardly something a woman should pass up.”

“No.” Teki inhaled. Her mother seemed so desperate to convince her, to convince herself that she believed what she was saying. She almost pitied her. “He was willing to kill for what you could give him. He loved you as much as you loved my father.”

Her mother frowned at her. “You’re angry with me now,” she said. “But one day you’ll understand. You’ll wake up and realize that everything you have today, everything you are today, is because of me.”

“You’re wrong,” Teki retorted. “I am what I am today in spite of you, not because.” She let out a shaky breath, motioning towards the guard that she was ready to leave. She met her mother’s glare with a firm stare of her own.

“Goodbye, Mama.” There was nothing else left to say.

The song was changing, morphing from the upbeat strings to the more somber piano solo.

Loki pulled her closer. “Do you want to go to the lake?” he whispered in her ear.

She laughed, cocking her head. “Are you going to push me in?”

“Of course not! Believe me, I learned my lesson with that one.”

“Uh-huh.” Brant was waving at her from the podium. She waved back with a grin. Loki stood beside her, eyebrows raised expectantly. Teki grabbed his hand. “Well, what are you waiting for, my prince? Lead the way!”

This is it, she realized as they scurried through the hallways, giggling like a pair of toddlers.

This is what happiness feels like.

[alittlewhump]

Unbidden - Act 2, chapter 8

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Content warnings: None

Morgan followed the sound of voices through the archives. He'd taken a more familiar route this time, one that skirted closer to the markets than he'd liked. Blaise and Cain were discussing something, but Cain stopped mid-sentence when he spied Morgan.

"Morgan! It's good to see you again, friend, though I had not expected you so soon." Morgan allowed himself a small smile. He'd missed Cain and his stories, his easy friendliness.

Blaise spun around to face him. "What are you doing here? You-" She seemed to lose her train of thought briefly as her eyes lingered at the collar of his shirt. "You should be resting."

"I want to make up for the time I've lost," Morgan said, growing serious again. He didn't feel tired, exactly, and anyway there was no respite to be found in his shared room. "There are demons seeking the tomb of Tal Rasha as well. Time is of the essence. What is it you've found?"

He couldn't read Blaise's expression as he came around the table to look at the books laid out across it. It turned out that finding the tomb would only be half the problem. There was a specific artifact needed to open it, and it had been split into pieces. A staff, which Morgan recognized from a tour of the local museum, and an amulet, which Blaise had already managed to recover from the demons who had held it. But it was not as simple as just having the pieces; there was a strange device required to bind them together, and that was guarded in yet another tomb by magical traps set by an ancient order of mages known as the Horadrim. Cain was familiar with this order, luckily enough, and was certain that he would be able to use the device once they'd located it, and it looked like Blaise had already eliminated several options from a long list of possible locations for that tomb.

It was growing late in the day, though, and Blaise flatly refused to start a new expedition before the morning. "You might be fine," she groused, not sounding as though she believed that to be the case at all, "but I'm hungry and tired. I'm going back to the palace. You can come with me, if you want. You could probably use the rest."

Morgan didn't want to go back, not yet. He looked down at the map on the table in front of him. Most of the marked locations were far enough from the city to be troublesome, but within a reasonable distance of a waypoint. Potentially good ways to keep himself occupied, to make sure his skills hadn't suffered too badly from disuse. Unfortunately, he'd never accessed most of the waypoints. He would need help with that.

"I'll stay here for the night. I can catch up on research." He paused. Perhaps someone else could act as a guide, someone he wasn't already deeply indebted to. "Is there someone who could show me to these waypoints?"

"Yeah. Me. Tomorrow." No luck there, then. Blaise put one hand on her hip. "Are you really sure you want to stay here?"

"Yes." He'd fled his room for a reason. If he didn't have something useful to focus his attention on now, he was going to come apart at the seams. He just needed to occupy himself, and that was going to be much easier here.

"All right, fine. But I'm not going to take you anywhere tomorrow if you haven't gotten any rest."

Anger flared suddenly hot in Morgan's chest. She kept insisting he rest, as though he hadn't just lost - how much time exactly wasn't clear, but it was certainly at least a few days of precious time, while she apparently picked up the slack. Did she still think of him as a child, someone who needed to be taken care of? Just another responsibility to shoulder? He slammed his open hand down on the table, growling "I don't want-"

He caught himself there, squeezed his eyes shut. Took a deep breath. Control. She had every reason to see him as an inconvenience, and that wasn't important. How others perceived him was inconsequential, he reminded himself. The only thing that really mattered was the Balance. His most important task was to find and stop the demons intent on upsetting it, and he wasn't going to get any closer to that goal by antagonizing a person who could help him. What he needed was her cooperation, not her respect.

"I apologize for that outburst," he said, opening his eyes but keeping them deferentially cast down. "It was not called for. I have had my fill of sitting idle, but I will rest when I need to."

Blaise was silent for a moment. "That's... whatever. Fine. See you tomorrow." She left without further comment. Morgan smoothed down the paper he'd rumpled in his childish show of temper. Not counting the claw vipers, it had been a long while since the last time he'd let himself get agitated to the point of lashing out. He was still on edge, not feeling quite settled in his skin after all that had happened. How long was it going to take him to get back to normal? He would have to focus his meditation on regaining emotional control for a while. This type of behaviour was totally unacceptable.

Cain cleared his throat. "Shall we continue? I believe I have at least another half hour in me today." He smiled warmly and Morgan relaxed a little. He could count on the scholar to leave well enough alone, to focus on the task at hand as he so badly needed to do.

"Yes, please."

Cain dedicated the better part of the next hour to filling in details about the Horadrim and their role in imprisoning Baal. He had managed to put together a diagram of the runes he suspected would be holding the demon lord in place, which Morgan set aside carefully to memorize later. He also had a general idea of the area where the Horadric cube, the device required to reunite the staff, was located, and what manner of traps would be securing it. The trouble was that the desert landscape had shifted over the intervening years, so none of the nearby landmarks were there any more. It was in this general area that Blaise had been concentrating her efforts, having gotten clearance from her superiors to pursue the lead. She had made impressive progress. Hopefully she would still be willing to work with Morgan after he'd repaid her efforts with nothing but a short temper. She didn't tend to accept apologies well, though. He'd just have to work harder at making himself useful.

After Cain retired for the evening, Morgan settled into what felt like a reasonable pattern of alternating between study and meditation. He had to ease himself into it at first; the urge to focus all of his energy on the problem of finding the cube was very strong. But the longer he studied, the more he realized he did need to rest himself properly. Once he passed the initial hurdle of forcing himself to stop and meditate, it was actually a relief to do so. It was good to meditate with peaceful intent again. The familiar, uninterrupted mental exercises were calming in a way he'd sorely missed, and it felt like a luxury to be able to sit in a comfortable chair again. Of course, everything felt like a luxury, compared to... well. It was nice to have a fresh appreciation for the small things.

By the time the sun was coming up, Morgan was satisfied that his understanding was at least adequate. Blaise and Cain found him leaning over the table comparing two maps, trying to pick out notable landmarks from the older one that might still be recognizable in some way.

"Good morning," he greeted them, looking up from his comparison a few seconds later. Both appeared to be in reasonably good spirits.

"Morning. So, do you still want to go out today, or do you want to keep studying?" Blaise lingered at the threshold while Cain made his way around the large table.

"I'd like to join the search today. I've rested," Morgan added quickly at the expression that flickered across her face. "More than I expected. I can keep up."

"Right. Get your gear and some breakfast then, we should go before it gets too much hotter."

Morgan flinched as a hand came down on his own. He'd almost forgotten Cain's tendency towards this sort of casual contact. The old man patted his hand twice, smiling encouragingly.

"Do stay safe out there. Good luck."

"Thank you," Morgan said, sliding his hand away. "I'll meet you at the waypoint," he suggested as he headed past Blaise. She didn't agree or refuse, instead following him out of the archives wordlessly. She only broke her silence once they were outside.

"You know you don't have to do this," she said, uncharacteristically quiet. Morgan searched her face, but couldn't identify the expression on it.

"No, I do. I can't just stand by and do nothing as evil gathers its forces. As a follower of-" he caught himself, remembering they were out in public. "I am obligated to do everything in my power to ensure that Darkness does not triumph over the Light," he explained instead.

"After all you - I mean, don't you think you've done enough by now?" Her unreadable expression didn't budge. At least it wasn't anger, he decided. That was a positive.

"No. There is no 'enough' until the Balance is righted. And even then, there will always be more to do." It wasn't a single task to be completed, it was a duty that extended past the definition of 'lifelong' as most people knew it. Long after his body was dust, even long after his spirit faded, there would still be more to do. It just wouldn't be his to do any more. But since there was still life in him in this world, he had to keep working toward the larger goal.

Blaise seemed unsatisfied with his response, but they had reached the waypoint. "Well, I guess I'll scout ahead while you get yourself together. If I'm not here when you get back, just wait for me."

"Very well." He turned to head towards the palace. If he was fast enough, he could get equipped and still visit the marketplace before it got too busy. There was a vendor who sold nuts and cheeses, good nutrient-dense foods that would be suitable for eating while travelling. It would save time if he could avoid larger meals altogether.

Morgan was relieved to find his room empty when he reached it. It wasn't that he didn't want to see Jemali, exactly, but he wasn't looking forward to it either. Not before he managed to get a handle on his emotions. To dismiss the lingering ache of disappointment that he'd invited in by allowing himself to believe briefly, stupidly, that the kindness he'd received had been anything other than a transaction. Of course he knew better, but it had been a moment of weakness. Nothing to do for it but try to get stronger.

His equipment was still as he'd left it. Despite not wanting to keep Blaise waiting longer than necessary, he let himself fall into an easy rhythm of tightening and checking buckles, running his fingers along the edges of the straps to find any thinning or splitting spots. It was a pleasantly tactile exercise, and the familiarity was a comfort.

The small bag of trinkets had been placed back with the others. It was tempting to go through them, to satisfy his vague curiosity about the cost of Jemali's service, but he'd already spent more time than he intended here. It was time to move on to the marketplace, then the desert. Yes, it was good to have an itinerary again.

[trainsinanime]

Let’s talk about railway electrification systems; not so much because any of you care but because I want to talk about it (and because I talked with some people about it on Twitter recently and had a lot of fun with that).

There are four main voltages that overhead lines for european railroads can have (and most of this translates to other countries as well):

1500 V DC

3000 V DC

15000 V AC at 16.7 Hz frequency

25000 V AC at 50 Hz (aka normal) frequency

These are generally divided along country lines; every country has one (or somtimes two) of these that it uses, usually chosen without any regard for what their neighbours used. Why?

Well, because back at the start of the 20th century, everyone had different ideas and different trade-offs and different decisions, and those choices made sense to them at the time. Many of these factors have changed since; for example, after World War 1, France explicitly decided on 1500 V DC so that german locomotives (running on 15 kV AC) could not run into the country. It made sense then, it’s a pain in the butt now.

But why those values in particular, and what were the tradeoffs?

The Motor

The key for that is the “Universal Motor” (for my german-speaking followers: Einphasen-Reihenschlussmotor), a type of electric motor that was the standard for electric railways and many other applications from the first electric locomotives until 1980.

I’m not going to go into details; the important part is that this motor is essentially a DC motor, but due to its wiring, it can also run on AC. There’s a bit of an issue, though: Powerful universal motors don’t really run well at industrial frequencies (50-60 Hz); they prefer lower ones. Other than that, the motor is bulletproof and powerful and easily the best thing that doesn’t require computer control.

Your standard railway spec motor, small enough to fit comfortably into the running gears of a train, will take somewhere between 600 V and 750 V (with quite a wide margin at either end). To this day, most streetcar systems, subways, and some odd commuter rail lines (in particular most of the south of England) use just those 600-750 V directly, as DC current, because the motor runs better that way.

More Power

But low voltage means low power. Power is voltage times current, and more current means generating more heat in the overhead power lines. For a given level of power, having more volts means needing less current, which is better for the power lines. And any design of power line will have a hard limit of how many amps of current you can send through it before it’ll melt. You can build lines for more current, but that’s expensive.

The low power does not only mean that each individual train gets a low amount of power, but also that the number of trains in a given section has to be low. So you need a lot of power supply stations (substations).

So the first idea was to connect two universal motors in series. That takes 1500 V, and you get either twice the power at the same current, or need half the current for the same power. That is what is used for example in the Netherlands, France and Japan.

1500 V is still fairly low, though, so why not double that? For 3000 V DC, you connect all four motors in your typical four-axle train car in series. Again, more power, less current. That system is used in Belgium, Spain, Italy, Poland, Czech Republic, Slovakia, former Soviet Union and a couple of others.

You can’t really go beyond that, though, at least with 1920s tech. Your modern USB charger is actually an incredible feat of engineering; it took decades to reach that level. At the time, if the DC voltage you got out of the power station didn’t match your needs, then there was no easy solution.

Transformation Sequence

This was not true for AC power, where you can use a transformer, an incredibly simple piece of technology. With AC, you can essentially use as high a voltage as you want. The limit here is insulation: The higher the voltage, the more space you need to have between the roof of the locomotive and the wires, and between wires and bridges and so on. The European countries that went that route settled on 15000 Volts as a good compromise.

The problem with that is that the universal motor doesn’t like 50 Hz (or 60 Hz) frequency that you get from the normal grid. The solution is to run the whole thing with less frequency. That’s why the frequency in the line is 16.7 Hz (originally 16 2/3rds Hz). This system, 15000 V AC at 16.7 Hz, is used in Germany, Switzerland, Austria, Norway and Sweden (but notably not Denmark), and it has stood the test of time well. For the Americans reading this, the 12 kV at 25 Hz used in the north-east by the Pennsylvania and Reading railroads is essentially the same thing, just slightly different values.

The problem with this thing is that you absolutely need that transformer. And, for reasons that I don’t quite understand, the lower your frequency, the larger your transformer has to be. 16.7 Hz is fairly low, so you need a very heavy transformer. Compared to a low-voltage DC system, you need fewer substations and a less expensive overhead line, but you need more expensive and heavier locomotives. That is a very real trade-off: Many of the DC countries have a long history of small, quick EMUs, while it took much longer for AC systems to develop those; they required heavy locomotives or much heavier EMUs.

Trade-offs

In the 1920s and 1930s, when the foundations of modern electric networks were laid, these were the systems and considerations available, and given the train performances at the time, it’s hard to argue that anyone really choose wrongly. I keep saying that 1500 V means low power, but the french reached a world record for high speed trains at 331 km/h (a bit over 200 mph) in 1955 with that system.

High Frequency

In the 1930s, hungarian engineer Kálmán Kandó, already an incredibly important figure in the development of modern electric trains, developed phase converters for railway use, which changed the game completely. These things were at the time heavy mechanical devices that combined a motor and a generator, and could transform any sort of electricity into any other. This means you can use the normal 50 or 60 Hz power that comes from the national grid, and then transform them into something else in the locomotive, instead of using some weird 16.7 Hz thing. This means cheaper lineside equipment and smaller transformers. You need the converter, but that pays off almost immediately.

(I'm over-simplifying here; there is a number of technologies and types of motors that allow using 50 Hz; the phase converter was the first, but is far from the only.)

Railways at the time were very interested in that, but then there was a whole second world war, which put everything on hold for a while. After the war, engineers in various countries perfected it, and along bumped up the voltage to 25000 V for more power with not that much more insulation required (the one exception to this is Japan, which went for 20000 V instead). This 25 kV at 50 Hz (or 60 Hz where applicable) is nowadays generally considered the best system if you can choose freely.

All countries that have 1500 V or 3000 V also have more or less extensive networks with 25 kV 50 Hz; sometimes just for high-speed lines, often for about half the country. A number of countries that started electrification comparatively late only have 25 kV 50 Hz. The countries that already have 15 kV 16.7 Hz have stuck with it, though; 25 kV 50 Hz is better, but not so much better that it justified all the expense of adding a new system.

(Exceptions exist but are very rare; feel free to ask me about the Rübelandbahn.)

Modern Locomotives

On the locomotive side, things have drastically changed starting in the late 1970s. Thanks to modern microelectronics and modern power electronics (sadly nobody calls them macroelectronics), phase and voltage converters have become small, lightweight and incredibly versatile; they’ll convert anything to anything else and back if you design them properly. That makes it relatively simple to build a locomotive or EMU that can use all of these different voltages, something that used to be quite a major engineering feat.

The default approach as of right now is that you have a big transformer (no way around that, for now) for AC voltages, with different output settings for 15 and 25 kV (this was always easy). It has to be the 16.7 Hz size, sadly. The output voltage in the 1500-3000 V range gets turned to DC. If you’re running under DC, you just use that DC directly. No matter how you got that DC, you’re now putting it into another converter (typically one per wheel set or one per bogie), which turns it into three-phase AC, at a frequency that corresponds to the speed you want to go. This sounds complicated, but works well in practice, to the point that all new locomotives nowadays support either both 1500 V DC and 3000 V DC, or both 15 kV AC and 25 kV AC, or all four. You can’t get a new e.g. 15 kV AC locomotive anymore. Even ones that are designed just for one country and advertised as doing only 15 kV will actually be able to run with 25 kV, just because nobody thought it worth the effort to design a 15 kV only transformer.

(This is not true for EMUs, since those are designed to run mostly locally instead of through the entire continent. You can get them in multiple voltage, but most are designed for just one.)

Where do we go from here?

The current system is a mess that is interesting to me, but a bit of a problem for railroads. In the olden days, you’d just change the locomotive at the border anyway, so it didn’t matter much; but nowadays you want to run your freight train from Rotterdam to Genua non-stop if you can. While multi-system locomotives have become a lot cheaper than they used to be, the whole thing is still very annoying for cross-border traffic. It's not the only annoying thing about european cross-border rail traffic, but it's a factor.

Also, train sizes, speeds and power requirements have increased drastically (air conditioning in passenger trains is actually a big deal in terms of power use). AC systems have been able to cope; DC systems less so. Both Belgium and the Netherlands have quite a lot of diesel locomotives pulling freight trains on electric lines, because they can simply produce more power. One manufacturer offers electric locomotives (the Stadler Euro9000) that have a diesel motor to boost the power under DC (and for shunting on tracks that have no overhead lines). Clearly, the old DC system needs to go.

But that’s easier said than done. Converting a line to 25 kV is quite expensive. You need new insulators at every single overhead line mast, but even more importantly, you need to check for safety clearance at every bridge over the railway, and, if necessary, raise bridges or lower tracks accordingly. Tunnels get even more fun. And, of course, all line side power equipment needs to be swapped out. This isn't impossible, but it is very expensive, and while it has happened in some places, it hasn’t happened a lot.

The Netherlands, for example, are currently running on 1.5 kV DC and did consider switching to 25 kV AC. All modern equipment there actually has a bit of empty space where you can fit a transformer. But the cost of upgrading the lines was judged too high. Right now ProRail, the company in charge of the network, is proposing upgrading from 1.5 kV to… 3 kV DC, of all things. It seems like a minor deal, but it still allows doubling the power output, for much less cost. Will it happen? No clue.

Meanwhile, in France, there is research going to make use of the new electronics. Researchers there figure that 9 kV DC is something you can do very well; modern electronics should allow stepping that down even more efficiently than a big 50 Hz transformer could. This seems to be mainly because the government does not want to pay to change the 1500 Volt lines there to 25 kV.

On the other end of the spectrum, the topic of 50 kV AC keeps popping up every now and then. A few lines like that already exist, most notably a large one in South Africa. In the US, the Black Mesa and Lake Powell railway used this system and ran coal trains from a mine to a power station; it's closed since 2019, because the power plant closed, because shale gas and renewables are just plain cheaper than coal. It's an interesting bit of railway history lost, but definitely a net win for the planet.

From a technical point of view, there's nothing particularly difficult about this. The Black Mesa and Lake Powell actually used a number of locomotives built for 25 kV and just changed the windings in the main transformer. The big problem is safety distances, which are much bigger than for 25 kV. There is no mainstream push for 50 kV at the moment, but it keeps coming up in discussions about "should US railroads electrify their lines" as a possibility.

Finally, in the 15 kV countries, there is some thought about 15 kV at 50 Hz. In Germany, the idea is to use this for short recharging sections for electric trains with batteries. Using 50 Hz saves the expense of a frequency converter. Personally, I don't see why those sections couldn't be 25 kV, but I guess it makes things a bit cheaper (EMUs, unlike locomotives, still come in 15 kV only versions).

In the US, this is actually already a thing; some lines in the North-East (I think primarily for New Jersey Transit) were changed from 12 kV 25 Hz to 12.5 kV 60 Hz when the 1920s era line-side equipment needed replacing. For the newer trains there, this requires at most a software update.

So… that’s the current situation. It’s not likely to get better any time soon, and if the french 9kV DC plans go through, it may actually get a bit worse, but modern locomotive technology has evolved to cope. There’s no point to this post, I just think it’s fun.

[365days365movies]

March 13, 2021: Kwaidan: Hoichi the Earless (1965)

Um...yeah, no idea, people.

Not sure what “the earless” means, but it worries me. So, rather than try to guess here, let’s get right into it!

This is the third of four tales presented in the film Kwaidan, listed here:

The Black Hair (黒髪, Kurokami)

The Woman of the Snow (雪女, Yukionna)

Hoichi the Earless (耳無し芳一の話, Miminashi Hōichi no Hanashi)

In A Cup of Tea (茶碗の中, Chawan no Naka)

Here we go again! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (3/4): Hoichi the Earless

A musician sings a song, known as “The Tale of the Heike”, and is specifically detailing the epic Battle of Dan-no-ura, during which two clans fought each other at the end of a great war. The scene is played out on screen as kabuki theatre, with the singer strumming an instrument in the background of the epic clash. It’s, uh...it’s pretty goddamn rad, not gonna lie to you.

Don’t know if you guys have ever seen kabuki theater, like legit kabuki theater, but it’s genuinely interesting. If you want to see an example accessible to non-Japanese audiences (and nerds like me everywhere), check out Star Wars Kabuki-Kairennosuke and the Three Shining Swords! Here’s a link! It is also rad.

Anyway, the epic tale of war and suicide results in a haunted shoreline, on which the mysterious Heike crabs appear with faces on their shells. But as the story ends, we meet its teller: Hoichi (Katsuo Nakamura), a blind monk who works at a temple. One day, a noise draws him inside one of the buildings of the temple. He attempts to investigate, but finds no one there. Confused, he decides to settle down and play his instrument, the biwa.

But as he does, a soldier (Tetsurō Tamba) appears with a message: his master wishes to see the site of the battle of Dan-no-ura, and also wants to hear Hoichi recite his version of the battle. While Hoichi doesn’t think himself worthy, he still goes along with the mysterious soldier, who takes him...towards the shore. So, dude’s a ghoooooooost, and Hoichi’s also to be fuuuuuuuucked. The soldier takes Hoichi to the beautiful azure temple to see his master.

Yeah, no, it’s definitely haunted, and Hoichi’s either dead, or is about to be dead. Or...wait, is this an Orpheus story? You know, a mortal recording artist so good that even the gods love his hit singles? Dunno, just came to me, so we’ll see. Anyway, he’s brought into the definitely not haunted temple, bedecked in tattered red flags, with beautifully spectral backgrounds all throughout.

Meanwhile, on the shore, a young man is found dead on the shoreline. We don’t see his face...but I have a bad feeling I know who it is. Although, it seems that it might be a fisherman whose boat recently sank...maybe. I’m still not convinced. The other monks wonder where Hoichi’s disappeared to, and then he reappears later that night. OK, cool, he isn’t dead. That warrior from before definitely was, though.

Hoichi never tells the monks where he disappeared to, but he’s soon called back to the mysterious temple by the warrior, who is indeed a ghost. Apparently, they commanded Hoichi not to tell anyone of their meetings, a command which he obeys willingly. Subsequent visits continue, but they obviously start to take a toll on Hoichi, who’s beginning to look, well...gray. Uh oh.

The head monk questions him on his disappearance, but Hoichi makes up an excuse about “needing to finish something, heedless of the hour”. And yeah, he REALLY doesn’t look good. Looks like this one’s gonna be another “don’t fuck with ghosts” lesson, huh? But Hoichi doesn’t really care, as he goes out even in a massive rainstorm. As his fellow monks look for him, he’s playing once again for the ghosts, which includes a child emperor seen in the epic song reenactment seen earlier. So, yeah, these are the spirits lost on the day of the Battle of Dan-no-ura. And those spirits want to hear that song once again.

And, of course, Hoichi plays it for them on the biwa. When ghosts tell you to play a song for them, you goddamn DO IT. We see him play it and the song for them, and all the while, the other monks are looking for him. As they do, will-o-the-wisps appear before them. Which, yeah, is another Pokémon, just saying. Both Gastly and Litwick are basically will-o-the-wisps. 

But OK, back to the actual ghost story, as Hoichi plays the biwa with some crazy-ass intensity. As he does, the people he’s playing for change from the emperor and his people to the samurai of the opposing side.

The spirits listen, as we see a painting of the battle and the disaster that came from it. The spirits, ALL of them, listen on, as the scene changes from an attentive spiritual audience, to a battle scene. And, uh...it’s intense. And terrifying. And genuinely very haunting. And while Hoichi can’t see any of it, we can. And again, it is HAUNTING, my lord. And then, as the monks arrive to find Hoichi singing, the spirit court fades away, and Hoichi is instead surrounded by will-o-the-wisps. My God.

The other monks try to take the clearly fucked up Hoichi back to the temple, planning on giving him an exorcism to cleanse him of these spirits. But the spirits, now seen in Hoichi’s absence, all rise as he leaves. Tattered red flags hit water, and the spirits disappear, AND I WILL HAVE NIGHTMARES TONIGHT. Now exposed, Hoichi is spoken to by the head monk, who reveals that doing what a spirit tells you to do is a sure fire way to open yourself up to their influence. And so, a plan is formed, in order to protect Hoichi from further possession. And to do that...it’s time for some painting.

Yeah, the monks paint Buddhist symbols all over Hoichi, hoping to protect him from the spirits influence. And they write ALL OVER him, and it’s both a gorgeous sight, while also being...well, extremely eerie. They paint all over him, in black and red script, even painting his eyelids. The GF pointed out that they’re putting the larger red symbols on his chakras, which makes sense and is neat. They even paint his hair, which is genuinely impressive.

The plan is then formed to let Hoichi outside to act as bait for the spirit to come back. He’s told not to make a sound in front of the spirits, and that he mustn’t move in front of them either. If he does, the spirits will tear him to pieces. But he’s still protected by the Heart Sutra, which is painted all over his body. Except for...his ears. Oh, shit, I think I know what’s gonna happen to poor, sweet Hoichi.

Sure enough, the Spiritual Samurai shows up, and is unable to see every part of him...except for his ears. GODDAMN IT DONKAI (the monk who painted the symbols on him), YOU DUMBASS. Well, the spirit believes that only his ears are left, and the spirit needs proof of Hoichi’s fate...so he takes his ears. And when I say he takes his ears, I mean that HE TAKES HIS FUCKING EARS. HE. RIPS. OFF. HOICHI’S. EARS. And Hoichi doesn’t make a goddamn sound as he bleeds profusely. HOLY FUCKING SHIT DUDE

With that, Hoichi bleeds his way to another part of the temple. Injured, he’s cared for by the head monk and DONKAI, who’ve realized Donkai’s grave mistake. And Hoichi is now Hoichi the Earless. Remind me never to fuck with the spirits without checking EVERY. SINGLE. MINUTE. DETAIL. Hoichi’s basically traded his ears for his life. And the spiritual visitors will no longer visit, according to the head monk. Meanwhile, Hoichi the Earless is now pretty famous, due to his unusual predicament. A wealthy lord wants to meet the strange young man, n as brought along a bunch of people to watch him play. While the monks tell him to refuse the request, he still plays to honor the fallen spirits regardless.

Soon, he and the temple are given money and gifts from all over the place, and Hoichi gains much personal wealth and fame. However, it never was about that for Hoichi, really. He just plays.

And that’s Hoichi the Earless! Wow. Interesting ending. Three out of four! Let’s go to the last, shall we? See you there!

[yamisnuffles]

Let Them Eat Crepes

Crowley suffers through Aziraphale eating crepes after the rescue at the Bastille.

Rated M. Read on Ao3

A very silly thing written as a gift for @racketghost to hopefully bring her some cheer. - - - - -

When Crowley had taken up residence in Paris, it hadn’t been to play host to a fussy angel with a death wish. He’d thought of the angel. Of course he had. Any time through history when he kept a room with a bed, he took some time to imagine said angel in said bed. But Paris was a nightmare and he was only there to keep up appearances, maybe scrape up the occasional detail for a report. He hadn’t thought Aziraphale would ever actually appear. Not in the middle of a bloody revolution. Certainly not dressed like that.

“What good fortune they offer crepes at the very same inn where you are keeping a room,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley sipped at his cider. It was supposed to pair well with the crepes. Not that he was eating any himself, despite having ordered food. Somehow his plates always ended up in front of Aziraphale.

“Yeah, fortunate.”

Aziraphale wiggled in his seat and speared another bite on his fork. “And such good ones, too.”

He punctuated the statement with a moan that sent Crowley’s blood on a trip south. He took a much larger gulp of cider. Alcohol tended to at least postpone the inevitable reaction to watching the angel eat. At this rate, he’d probably be better off asking for a whole cask. They were only two plates in and hadn’t yet reached the cruelest part of any meal.

Crowley was fairly certain Aziraphale resented the creation of forks. Sure, he would use them, but there always came a moment in any meal when he abandoned his utensils in favor of more natural options. Whether it was licking the last bit of broth from a bowl or chasing some spot of cream with his fingers, it happened without fail and it was hell. Literal hell. Well, maybe not literal but Crowley thought it came close to anything they’d come up with Downstairs.

He was, at present, using a torn off scrap of crepe to sop up a bit of golden yolk. He swept the delicate pastry across the plate and let it drag through gooey Gruyère that clung to his thumb and forefinger. Once this process was complete, he would pop it all into his mouth with a moan and suck his fingers clean. He continued on with a single minded focus until the plate was absolutely spotless and Crowley was on the edge of breaking his tightly clenched jaw.

Aziraphale stopped short of putting the final bite in his mouth and looked up at Crowley, as if only just remembering he wasn’t alone. “I know you said you didn’t want any, but maybe just a taste? It really was divine.”

He held out that final scrap on the tip of glistening fingers, as though he expected Crowley to simply nip it away.

Hell. It was hell and Crowley was going to die.

He licked his lips. “Nah. No. M’fine.” He coughed and looked at the empty bottom of his mug. He considered getting more but he needed more than just alcohol at that point. “I’ve got a few good bottles in my room. How about we head up there.”

Aziraphale ate the rejected scrap of food and licked away the grease that had coated his fingers as he held it. “But I haven’t finished yet,” he said with a frown. “It would be a shame to go through all that nasty business at the Bastille without at least eating my fill.”

Wide blue eyes drifted toward the kitchen and then back at Crowley, widening further as they went. Eyebrows lifted up. A bottom lip made its appearance and wobbled for good measure. It really was a marvel, looking back, that it had taken Crowley so long to suggest Aziraphale take on temptations. The angel was a natural at it.

Crowley ran his tongue over the sharp edges of his teeth and considered his options. “Ehhh, it’ll be fine. They’ll bring the food up.” They might not know why, but given they’d only started offering crepes an hour ago, it was hardly the most confusing thing they’d been through that day. “We can finish up in my room.”

“Oh, good.” It was clear the moment Aziraphale was appeased because his pout was instantly replaced by a smile. “Well then, lead the way.”

Crowley risked a surreptitious glance downward that he hoped his glasses blocked from view. Despite the growing tension in his abdomen, it didn’t look like his trousers were in a state to give him away. If he walked a little oddly, he had to hope Aziraphale was too focused on the promise of future crepes to notice.

When they got up to Crowley’s room, Aziraphale gave it all an appraising look. He wrinkled his nose at one of the chairs, removed his hat, and used it to wipe the offending furniture off before he took a seat. “Charming place you have here.”

Crowley shrugged with as much disinterest as he could physically muster and went into the small bedroom off the main room. The wardrobe had been repurposed as a wine cabinet. “Doesn’t need to be charming. I’m a demon. It’s supposed to be dark and dank and gloomy,” he called back as he ran his fingers over the labels of some of the wine he’d liberated from now deceased nobles. He grabbed two bottles of Chardonnay and glasses for the both of them and, after a moment of chewing on his lip, a bottle of Champagne. “Besides, not like I’m planning on staying much longer.”

When he returned, he found two large platters of crepes had been delivered. Aziraphale had a fork in hand but seemed unable to decide which to sample first. He settled on one dusted in sugar with sliced lemons on top. His lips puckered slightly around the lemon before relaxing back to a smile. Crowley wanted to lick into his mouth and see if the tartness of the lemon remained or if it would be all Aziraphale. Instead he uncorked a bottle with his teeth and drank a hearty swig of Chardonnay.

“If dark and dank is what you were going for,” Aziraphale said, “then well done, my dear. It’s good to hear you won’t be lingering, though.”

Crowley swallowed down more wine. Between that and all the cider before, he could feel his limbs loosening. He stretched out his legs, forgetting why he’d been keeping them crossed in the first place. “Not much more to do here, really. Can only write, ‘the humans have chopped off more heads’ so many times. Got my commendation, anyway. Might as well head out before Downstairs starts expecting something new and exciting.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Seems prudent.”

He picked up a stray slice of lemon, dabbed it in sugar, licked it clean, and then did it all over again again. Crowley watched the whole thing, entirely enraptured, especially when Aziraphale’s thick, pink tongue would make an appearance to remove any lingering sugar from his lips. Warmth that had nothing to do with the copious amounts of alcohol Crowley had imbibed settled firmly between his legs. His feet had wandered dangerously close to enemy territory. He pulled them back and threw one foot over a knee in an attempt to disguise the growing tenting in his trousers.

“Those worth losing your head over?” he asked, nodding his head toward the food.

Aziraphale took the bottle from Crowley and poured himself a glass. “Sometimes you miss life’s little pleasures and you have to take a risk to get what you want.”

Pink blossomed high on his cheeks. Crowley tilted his head.

“But death? For crepes?”

Aziraphale smiled around another bite. “Yes, well, it would have only been discorporation and they’re really rather good, if a bit clueless.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes. “Are we still talking about crepes?”

Aziraphale didn’t answer beyond a small huff of laughter. Silence settled in while he continued on eating. Crowley was certain he was missing something but he was too distracted by the sight in front of him to think straight.

It was odd to see the angel in red. Some secret part buried deep in his chest liked it, loved the message of rebellion that it shouted to the world. He'd never admit to it but, as much as he liked it, he'd loved every last gold thread on the absurd outfit that had come before. He could still see heavy manacles around delicate, lace covered wrists. He could practically feel the ghost of curved calves wrapped in sumptuous stockings. His fingers ached from the memory of feet clad in ostentatious silk. How he'd wanted to take it all off, piece by ridiculous piece.

And there Aziraphale was before him, with a view of the bed just beyond. Maybe he would wear those chains again. Or, better yet, perhaps he’d put himself entirely in Crowley’s hands. Crowley could spread him out on the mattress and peel it all away until only pale skin and paler hair remained.

Aziraphale dropped his fork with a clatter. “Oh.”

Crowley’s eyes widened. It wasn’t just that he could imagine it all perfectly, Aziraphale really was back in all his finery. Only, it wasn’t identical to what he’d been wearing before. Gold had been replaced by silver and a vein of deep scarlet ran through the embroidery on the sleeve.

“Well, that was certainly frivolous of me,” Aziraphale said, oblivious to Crowley’s growing distress, “but Heaven can hardly fault me if I didn’t mean to do it. I had been thinking about how much nicer silk was against the skin but… no, I certainly don’t remember actually willing it back.”

“Right, unhhhh—” Crowley’s voice came out as a choked squeak. He opened another bottle and, in a maneuver not recommended to those without demonic serpentine attributes, downed half of it in one tremendous gulp. He tried not to consider the way the angel’s eyes were trained on his neck as he ran the back of his hand across wine stained lips. “Sometimes these things just happen. You know. No use worrying about it. No one will see you here, so just eat the rest of your crepes.”

The corners of Aziraphale’s mouth tugged down slightly. “If you’re impatient to be somewhere, don’t let me keep you.”

“Not impatient just…” Crowley switched the cross of his legs in search of some relief. He had to use one hand to still the other in order to keep from palming away the ever building tension. “You know.”

Aziraphale arched an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I do. Are you alright, my dear? You seem uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, I’m, er…” Crowley tugged at his collar. It was too tight. He could feel himself swallowing and every swallow sent his mind elsewhere. “Hot. Should probably open the windows.” He was halfway to his feet when he remembered why getting to his feet under Aziraphale’s watchful gaze was probably not the best idea. It didn’t seem likely the angel would be secretly ecstatic to find out that he was hopelessly hard just from watching him eat. “Actually, nah. Would need to open the curtains and with your clothes… best to keep things shut. I’ll be fine. Really. Get back to your crepes. You said it yourself, it would be a shame not to finish after everything you did to get them.”

Aziraphale picked at his final crepe. His whole body melted with a moan as soon as it touched his tongue. All the while, his eyes were still locked on Crowley.

“Oh, but it wasn’t just me who went through a lot for these.” He carefully cut another portion of crepe and nudged the sliced tip of a strawberry onto it. He then swirled it through a cloud of rich cream and held up the fork. “Strawberries and whipped cream. Try a bite. For your troubles.”

The whipped cream lost its structure against the warm crepe. A rivulette of white travelled down the length of the fork and onto Aziraphale’s fingers. Crowley licked his lips. He couldn’t possibly take that bite or he would never be able to stop. But Aziraphale was looking at him so expectantly and he couldn’t think of a good reason to refuse.

He leaned forward and took the fork into his mouth. It was alright, as food went, but he barely registered the taste. He was far too focused on the way his cock pressed to his stomach when he was bent forward. And then there was proximity of those white, sticky fingers. His head swam with visions of grabbing Aziraphale by the wrist and licking the cream away.

It was all a mouthful too far. He’d tried. He really had. His eyes shut as a desperate groan tore up from his throat and his trousers became a mirror of Aziraphale’s fingers, wet and sticky and warm. He wasn’t sure he could bear to open his eyes again. He fell back into his seat and dared to crack open one eye.

Aziraphale was smiling. “I told you it was good.” He pushed the plate forward. “Would you like to share the rest?”

Crowley sighed and leaned his head back. “Nah, you eat it. I’m good for at least a couple more hours.”

[kokiri-at-the-pack]

1020

October 20

I do not recall how I managed to return home. Steven’s last words never stopped ringing in my ears up to the point I reached the front door of my aunt’s house.

My worst fear just came true. Steven’s memories about me were gone. He could not remember the entire days from the point I met him up to my last meeting with him. It was like...how should I say...a large part of the film in his brain was clearly cut off.

And this was all because I drew a random guy whom I wished to be friends with.

I couldn’t dare to see Mr. Francis, who was hospitalized in the same building. He would display a similar behavior, which he did not deserve to get. I was certain he would no longer have any idea about the contract he made with the company but figure out why he was suddenly lying on the hospital bed instead.

Have I been too selfish? Should I have stopped the moment I wanted someone to stay by my side? Or the moment I wanted Steven, Mr. Francis and many more to be happy?

Could there have been another way? No...That could have been more difficult to achieve.

Because reality is harsh...for people like us.

If only...if only...those drawings were kept in a safer place...none of this would have happened…

I shook my head to get rid of a flood of negative thoughts pouring into my mind. I turned the knob and opened the door, pretending that nothing serious happened to me.

However, two people I did not expect to see at my aunt’s house so soon were standing in the living room: my parents. They turned to me with cold eyes, speaking with low tones that I should sit down for a while to have a bit of a talk. I did as they said quietly, but I was not able to control my anxiety. Their low voices have meant that there was trouble in our family, and it has always been a really, really serious matter.

I asked them what was wrong.

Mother made quick steps towards me and pulled out an envelope from her bag. I received it afterwards and opened it carefully, wondering what their intentions were.

...Sheets of paper. My drawings. All wet and crumpled from the storm.

I almost dropped them as soon as I saw their contents. Wait, if they were inside Mother’s bag, that means…

“Dear, please explain to us,” Father finally opened his mouth, “what are they for?”

October 23

Mother and Father explained to me how they found my drawings briefly. They were cleaning rooms in our house which turned into a mess after the great storm. When it was time to go to the storage room, they noticed a piece of paper was stuck out from one of the boxes in the corner. That is where they found all the work I have done for the past several days.

If it was another family with a different ability, they would not have raised any suspicion towards some random doodles. However, we are a family of Visualizers, whose drawings can come to life, no matter how long our effects last. It was one thing for them to draw strangers on numerous pages. When they compared them with recent news that were continuously featured in various media platforms, they were certain that our family ability was involved in them. There were too many links to be considered as a coincidence.

That is why I had to tell them the truth. Every single bit of it from its purpose to my true feelings. When I finished my explanation, my parents did not say anything, and relaxed their faces a little, but they still had discomfort in their emotions. In fact, they did not know how to respond to the result I made. Never have they seen the Visualizing ability work in such a wide, impactful field before, nor have they ever thought it was possible.

The silence continued until dinnertime. When I finished my supper, my parents beckoned me to come to the backyard. There, I saw that they gathered all the sheets of ruined drawings as well as notebooks with my previous doodles into one area, on top of logs exactly. Before I could ask what this was all about, Father questioned me if every one of them was old enough that my ability’s effect had worn off. I answered yes.

“Good,” he simply replied.

Then with no time for me to react, Father threw a lit match to the sheets in the blink of an eye. The fire instantly grew larger and devoured all the hard work and dedication I put in throughout months.

I barely remember what I screamed towards my parents. Maybe a curse...maybe a cry…

But despite my rage, my parents were unusually calm as steel. When I was about to get exhausted after the sudden explosion, Mother held my shoulders firmly and called my name several times to calm me down.

“You could have got yourself into trouble,” she said, “if we did not do this.”

I slowly looked up to see her sad, but determined face.

“We know it’s an awful thing, and we are so sorry...but we do not want to allow any more misfortune to come to our family,” added Father.

“But it’s not too late yet. Now that the evidence is destroyed, others won’t get suspicious of us. After all, our ability is not that obvious to be identified,” Mother replied.

I was utterly dumbfounded by their actions. A great amount of anxiety in their voices...Making a difficult choice of burning their daughter’s passion into ashes… How much worse can the consequence of my action grow?

“Dear...when does your winter break start?” Father asked all of a sudden.

“D-December…” I stuttered.

“That will be it. We can look for your new school in that period.”

“What?! Y-You want me to transfer to another place?”

“Our whole family has to start anew. Now, you must be aware of how crucial your mistake is.”

Mistake...What I did to make myself proud...make my ability proud...and make my family proud...They saw it as nothing but a mistake…

I understand their feelings… but why does my heart ache so much?

“This is the only choice we have. When you go there, do not mention any detail about your ability. Be vague in a way it is not understandable,”

I listened to my parents thoroughly, with each of their words pushing me deeper into despair.

“And remember,” Mother concluded, “live quietly.”

November 1

I have never noticed that weeks have already passed after I last noted my parents’ resolution for my ability’s severe effect. If ever someone is reading this entry, I sincerely apologize for the enormous skip in timeline.

The thing is...my family has been extremely busy since that fateful day. We have been looking for a new village to live in, together with the school my sister and I should transfer to. Of course, it was no easy task. We had to read every booklet and newspaper we could grab and visit that place before making a final decision. What’s more, from time to time, we had to pack up necessary stuff in advance and throw away any item which would be bothersome for transportation.

But the most critical reason was that due to a fear of leaving evidence related to the incident in my hometown, I was hesitant to write any more entries.

Until we have decided where to go at last.

My family agreed for one last time to pretend to be a family with no extraordinary ability. We are not worth any attention. While my parents attempt to look for any business they can start to earn a living, my sister and I will go to a small school with few students and graduate there. After all, it is a piece of cake to get a good score in such a quiet and unpopular school, so it also solves the problem of applying for a college in the future. It may look like my family was able to jump over a huge obstacle.

Except that my passion towards my ability remained intact.

Even though I knew it was my fault entirely for the tragedy to take place, I could never forget the significant change of emotions of the people I helped beforehand. How long have they possibly wanted those moments of recognition to happen? Can a person be certain that they will come to them one more time? No one knows exactly when one can fulfill his dream.

That’s right. Look at a brighter side. If my drawings can be ruined easily, that would also mean a method to preserve them can also be easy. As long as there is no single drop of water on a sheet, the effect will last forever, and that would be advantageous for me to support more unlucky people in need of help.

And as soon as we finish settling down in our new home, I can try to investigate how I can safely and efficiently activate my Visualization. Maybe I can start with how I can complete my work faster. I can also examine why the term for my family ability’s effect has been different depending on members and generations. I remember no one has figured it out, and I doubt my parents would do so since they already lost trust in our family ability.

I am going to be the one to fix the mistake...even if it means I would have to do it secretly.

I hope I succeed if my chance comes some day. Then my parents would understand me. My sister would trust me again. Our whole family would afterwards have happiness restored, just like the people who can be joyful with my illustrations.

So for now, I will focus on education and achievement of my goals. If time allows me to write again, I will record what I have seen, heard or kept in mind here.

…

To note down your experience is to remember what you felt at that very moment.

- K. D. Leighton -

[animetrashlord-007]

M.I;; Chapter Five

Word Count;; 2k

Genre;; Fluff, Suggestive, Eventual Smut, Slowburn

Pairing;; Oikawa x Ushijima

Side Pairing;; Kuroo x Sugawara

Summary;;

Them boys engage in questionable bedroom activities.

Published;; 04.28.18

Notes;;

My Masterlist

Mutual Interests Masterlist

   “Harder, Kuroo-san!”

   “Do you like that, Koushi? You're such a bad boy, aren't you? Begging for me like this… how pathetic.”

   Upon hearing the exchange, Oikawa stopped dead in his tracks. He recognised the voices of his two group partners straightaway, but they were meant to be studying, not engaging in… whatever the hell they were doing. The small moans and light panting that filtered out into the hall made his stomach churn. It wasn’t any of his business what the two got up to in private as long as it remained there, not in his damn dorm room. His mind raced with a million thoughts at once, teetering on the edge of a very inappropriate gutter (but how could it not? There was no mistaking the sound of flesh hitting flesh and it could only mean so many things), as he listened to their whispered words. He hesitated at the threshold. He didn’t want to enter and witness their transgression but he had to give them a piece of his mind - there was no way he would let their blatant audacity slide.

   Summoning his fiercest bitch face, he slammed the door open and flipped the light switch. His eyebrow twitched when he took in the state of the room. Sugawara’s side of the dorm was a disgrace. The once spotless floor was covered in loose sheets of paper and his bedding was beginning to slide off. Oikawa was grateful to see his side remained untouched, though his brief respite disappeared just as quick as it came once his eyes landed on the two people responsible for his rising stress levels.

   With the comforter thrown over his shoulders, Kuroo hovered behind Suga, one hand on the smaller male’s waist with his other pulled back and ready to smack the soft underside of Suga’s ass. He tossed his head backward and flashed Oikawa his usual grin, his eyes shining with unspoken mischievous. While Oikawa couldn’t see the setter beneath Kuroo’s larger frame, there was no mistaking his lewd whimpers and pleas, begging for him to continue, begging for more. Not bothering to hide or cover up their act of indecency, the blocker brought his hand down against Suga’s skin, not once breaking eye contact with Oikawa. The slap echoed throughout the small space, and still their eyes remained locked. Oikawa’s face contorted into a grimace; he could almost feel the sting.

   It was Kuroo’s lazy grin and airy chuckle that pulled him from his daze. Oikawa’s chocolate locks bounced around his reddening ears once he managed to tear his eyes away, focusing on finding the light switch once more and plunging the room into the safety of darkness. Embarrassment nipped at his nerves, his cheeks flushing and his fingers trembling. It had been a long time since he had wasted his time thinking about carnal desires but now he couldn’t think of anything else. Dating had always been a bit of a bore and a pain in the arse but it did have its benefits, yet clearly one could get those same perks without all the hassle. He could be casual about it, discreet, it wouldn’t affect his schooling if he went about it the right way.

   He clenched his fists and shook his head, his irritation returning tenfold, all traces of his fleeting moment of weakness replaced with a glower as he spat, “What the hell are you two doing?!”

   “Oikawa-san! Back already?”

   “Obviously!”

   “Don't just stand there, come in. Might as well get comfortable.”

   “What? As if! Not until you get out, deviant!”

   “Hey now, I'm a guest here. You should be nice.”

   “You’re an unwelcome guest! Take a hint already!”

   “You wound me!”

   “Oikawa-san, I’m sorry, we lost track of time. I didn’t want you to see this.”

   “Well I should hope not!”

   “Calm down, princess.”

   “Would you remove yourself from my life permanently?”

   “Aww, I love you too, baby.”

   “Cut it out, Kuroo-san, you’re making it worse,” the words were whispered but Oikawa managed to catch them before they were consumed by the darkness. “Just wait outside for a few minutes, we’ll clean up.”

   “Or you can join in. I don’t mind. We’ll probably be awhile,” Kuroo’s chortle was cut short, transforming into a pained gasp as Suga elbowed him in the stomach. “What? We might as well finish up. He already found out.”

   “Seriously?! You two have no shame!”

   It was a miracle the frame didn’t splinter with how hard Oikawa slammed the door shut. Taking a few deep breaths, he basked in the serenity of the silent hallway. It was late enough that the lights were dimmed, adding to the ambience. Deciding to forget all about the events of this cursed day and get some much needed rest, he scurried down the hall toward the one place he knew would have an empty bed: the shared dorm of Kuroo and Ushijima. He never thought the day would come where he would find himself seeking out that damn mountain of awkwardness for refuge. The things he had been reduced to… He despised college.

   Fervent footsteps. Vehement knocking. Desperate heartbeat. The sound of his knuckles against the door could only be described as pathetic. He never once paused, instead increasing the speed and force of every hit with each repetition, rapping against the wood with reckless abandon. He refused to stop until he gained access, regardless of whether or not Ushijima was asleep yet. His mind was a jumble and he could feel a migraine coming on and the fact that he had morning classes tomorrow made matters at least 110% worse. He didn’t have the time nor the patience to be considerate. Besides, it was just Bakatoshi. It didn’t really matter if he was inconvenienced.

   The message was received loud and clear, the door creaking open after a mere thirty seconds of incessant knocking. Faint light spilled into the hallway from a small lamp somewhere on Ushijima’s side of the room, illuminating the silhouette lurking on the other side of the door. The familiar sight of short, olive-brown hair peered at Oikawa, one of his large hands reaching out of the shadows to rub at his tired eyes. His voice was a mixture of confusion and weariness as he spoke.

   “What’s wrong, Oikawa-san?”

   “Just let me in.”

   “Wait, I need to-”

   Oikawa slipped passed the bewildered ace, forcing his way inside. His eyes darted to and fro, absorbing the details and minute changes that had occurred since his last visit. Kuroo’s bed wasn’t quite made but still presentable; it lacked a single piece of trash or note paper on the crumpled, bumpy duvet and, by some miracle, none of his laundry was in sight. It was nowhere near as immaculate as his own room, or even Ushijima’s side of the room, but it was a huge improvement and Oikawa couldn’t help but feel a (miniscule) surge of pride. Perhaps there was still hope for that idiot, after all.

   Turning back to the doorway with every intention to inform Ushijima of the scandalous activities occurring inside the sanctity of his room, Oikawa’s words caught in his throat when he took in his appearance. Ushijima donned just a simple pair of snug, black boxers which hugged him in all the right places. His body, though relaxed from his brief slumber, was firm. Every single muscle. His entire body looked sculpted. From his toned calves to his thick thighs, to his defined abs and broad shoulders, and even to his damn biceps, the man was built like a God pulled straight from a myth.

   What the hell was he thinking? His mind was the ultimate traitor, offering a detailed image of how round Ushijima’s arse would look right now in those tight boxers. He tried to think of anything else, but his thoughts kept returning to it until a voice in the back of his head stated the obvious, that he could just walk over and settle this train of thought with a single glance, with a full-body onceover where his eyes devoured Ushijima’s figure like the five course meal that he was. Why stop there? Might as well enjoy yourself and cop a feel, too.

   Cold palms chilled his heated cheeks as his hands collided with his face. It was the best idea he could manage on the spot to snap him out of this ludicrous fantasy. This wasn’t like him. No, this was their influence. Those two weirdos that were ruining not only his night, but aiming to take the prize and ruin his whole life. These thoughts weren’t his own. He hated Bakatoshi. Even if the guy looked delectable right now, waiting to be pounced on and-

   “Seriously?” Oikawa snapped, letting his pent up frustration loose and praying for any type of distraction, “You couldn’t put some pants on?”

   “I didn’t have time-”

   “Save it for someone that cares. I’m sleeping in Kuroo’s bed tonight.”

   Ushijima’s exhaustion was evident in his simple nod. His feet were heavy and audible as he crossed the room, sliding back under the covers and closing his eyes without a sound. Oikawa was grateful that Ushijima couldn’t read his mind, and that he didn’t notice his intense gaze, or if he had, he had the decency not to comment on it.

   On approaching his chosen bed, all prior pride and the glimmer of hope he once held for Kuroo dissipated once he pulled the duvet down. The lumps hidden from view were not misshapen sheets but rather clothing, more than likely dirty, and the sheets themselves were nowhere in sight. Not even the fitted sheet remained on the bed, the mattress exposed and cold to the touch.

   The guttural growl that crawled from the pits of his stomach and reverberated throughout the enclosed space was enough to jolt Ushijima awake once more. He watched with wide eyes as Oikawa stormed across the room, stopping at the edge of the bed, tables turned for once as he towered over him. Oikawa tapped his foot in impatience, irritation rolling off him in waves, seconds that felt like hours passing in uncomfortable silence until Ushijima spoke up and questioned the setter’s sudden mood swing.

   “Shut up and move, I’m sleeping here tonight.”

   With another knowing nod and small yawn, Ushijima scooted to the far side of the large bed. It was bigger than the standard and Oikawa thought it was a bit extra when he first saw it, but it looked comfy and he almost felt excited to try it for himself. Except there was an obstacle in his path that was blocking the road to bliss and sweet dreams - the current occupant who was patting the empty space he created beside his shirtless self, beckoning Oikawa like it was the most normal thing to do.

   “What are you…? no. No, no, no. You move, go. Get out, I need this bed. You sleep somewhere else, anywhere else.”

   “Why? It’s big enough for us both.”

   “Why? Why? What kind of question is that? Do you think you’re smooth? I see right through you, Bakatoshi.”

   “Huh?”

   “Don’t play dumb.” Ushijima tilted his head in confusion, which only served to further irritate Oikawa. “I’m not going to sleep with you!”

   “I didn’t mean-”

   “I'm so sick of all this weird sex tonight! I just want to sleep in peace, why are you all like this? Can’t any of-”

   “Oikawa-san.”

   “-you be normal for once? What evil deed did I commit in a past life to be stuck with you-”

   “Oikawa-san.”

   “-three idiots cursing my existence for the rest of my foreseeable future? I just-”

   “Tooru.”

   Oikawa scoffed, rolling his eyes and taking a deep breath, his outburst fading, “That’s Oikawa-san to you, we’re not friends,”

   With a sigh, Ushijima rolled out of the bed and walked across the room. It was obvious that Oikawa was stressed and sleep deprived, college life taking its toll, but Ushijima wasn’t faring much better and the statement felt like a blow to the gut. His words shouldn’t have offended him, Oikawa has said worse after all, but he thought they had been making progress. He collapsed onto the messy mattress, willing the empty feeling in his stomach away with the promise to try harder tomorrow before falling into a fast but deep slumber, leaving Oikawa to find peace amongst his restless thoughts.

[natural-namjoon]

Ｎｅｎ

“What happens when a small child runs off into the forest and runs into the sweet but mysterious Hongjoong who can make rain with his flute?.”

Ateez as Gods AU

Non- Romantic Hongjoong X OC, Seonghwa is there too.

Fantasy, mystical, no romance 

TW// Non-graphic Death, mentions of child abuse, mild angst.

Word Count: 5,139 words

*AN: short one-off that might become a series. idk yet. I wanted to do something different, I felt huge writers block from only writing romantic y/n stories so this is me trying to write something different. Its a cute little one shot of ethereal Hongjoong saving a cute little boy, very sweet, very simple, please enjoy.*

The morning air was warm and dry, the sky was bright blue with no clouds to be seen, which left the sun blazing on a small village nestled upon a densely forested hill. In that village there was a small boy who was about 6 years old who, told to stay inside and finish his chores, decided he was done for the day and with sneaking caution he peeked his small head out of the opening of the hut looking out for a scolding grown-up that might be headed his way, but there was currently no one in sight. Almost all of the adults in the village had been called to a council of the elders that morning because there had been talk of a curse on the land, the village had seen no rain for almost a year and the crops were suffering and food storages were dwindling, if the spirits couldn’t help them they would be forced to leave and make the dangerous journey of finding a new place to settle. 

After a few moments of looking around the child decided it was safe enough to venture out. He knew it was forbidden and he knew he could incur the wrath of his father like so many times before but there was a restless longing that had been tugging at the small child’s mind all that morning. With no hesitation the boy made a break for the treeline, wanting to explore and look around, he had not been allowed to ever do so and even though the rainless months left the forest in a dry brown state, it was still better than sitting in the stuffy hut. 

Treading carefully between the large trees, the child ran until he could no longer see the last few huts that sat on the outskirts of their settlement. After he felt he was far enough the child slowed down and took his time, looking around. The trees were so tall and imposing but not in a scary way. Nothing about the forest had ever scared this child unlike the other kids in the village. This particular little boy always thought of the trees as guardians, tall and passive, shielding him from being seen when father was angry and providing timber and branches for the fires and huts. After a bit of walking the boy came upon a large channel in the ground, dried and empty, no doubt the location of a small stream that had been bountiful about a year before but now, due to the drought, had dried up. Carefully climbing down into the dried stream he noticed a shiny glint in the dirt. With piqued curiosity, the boy ran over and with small determined fingers, he was able to move the dry clay and retrieve a shiny blue stone.

Completely enamored by the beauty of the small rock the boy didn’t hear it at first, the sound was faint and a little off in the distance but after a moment the tune had the child’s ears perked. It was the sound of a flute, there was a lone flute player somewhere in the forest. The tune was soft and slow and playful but in between the notes there was a hint of sadness, the boy felt a pang in his heart as he listened to the sweet melody and with determination he decided he needed to find the lone flute player. With a skip in his step the boy followed their ears and on quick small feet, made his way to find the magical musician. 

After a few confusing twists and turns the boy was eventually able to follow the sound in the right direction, as with every passing tree the sound grew louder and soon the child found his way to a small clearing in the woods where two boulders sat, a smaller one sitting within the shadow of the larger one, the boy hadn't even realized how far he had walked, completely leaving the hill that his village sat on and traveling deep into the valley below. At first, the boy didn’t see anything but then he noticed him. A young man sitting in the lotus position on the smaller boulder, eyes closed, playing the flute. As to not draw attention to himself the boy ducked behind a nearby tree. Peeking around to watch the man. The man was thin and pretty, he also looked young, probably no older than the bigger kids back at the village, but there was something about him that made the child feel like he was much older than anyone the boy had ever met. The man was odd-looking as well, his hair was very dirty and covered in what looked like mud or clay, it made it impossible to know what his real hair color was but his appearance only got stranger, he was dressed in clothes the child had never seen before, instead of the furs and skins the child was used to seeing, this man had on long silver and white robes that looked shiny and pretty. Was this material the infamous “silk” that the child had heard so much about? According to the adults, silk was incredibly expensive and people killed for it, only royalty and the extremely wealthy were able to possess it, but this man had dirt in his hair, surely he wasn’t royalty, the boy thought.

While the little boy sat perturbed and lost in thought he didn’t notice the man had stopped playing the flute and was sitting quietly, a small smile on his lips.

“I see you there, little one,” He called, his voice was smooth and sweet, like the sound of wind chimes. Startled, the boy gasped and hid behind the tree, hoping the man hadn’t seen him. 

“It's ok Little one, I will not harm you. Did you come because of my song?” He called out playfully to the child again. 

After a moment The boy shyly peeked his head out, the man sat and beckoned the boy over, his eyes were narrow and piercing but kind, and his smile was warm, with a perfect set of straight white teeth, sensing no immediate threat the little boy decided to take a hesitant step out of behind the tree. The child made his way over to the boulder where the man sat, his eyes watching cautiously for any signs that the man was a threat but as he got closer he could only feel the warmth of the man’s smile and the welcoming nature of his stance. The only strange thing that struck the child was how bright and blue the man’s eyes were. 

The boy stopped right in front of the boulder, looking up at the pretty human before him. Without saying a word the man patted the spot next to him on the boulder, after a moment of hesitation the boy then clumsily climbed up the side of the rock and sat where he had been directed, the shade provided a nice cool spot to sit in the middle of the warm afternoon. 

“There, isn’t that better? I’m sure you walked pretty far huh?” The man asked and the child nodded shyly

 “My name is Hongjoong, What is yours?” The man, Hongjoong, said extending his hand out to the boy, but the child only stared at his hand with a strange look, after an awkward pause the boy only shook his head and in a small voice he said,

“I have no name.” Hongjoong furrowed his brows in concern but didn’t say anything, instead, reaching in his satchel to retrieve his canteen. Taking off the cap he offered it to the child,

“Here, drink some water, it's awfully warm today.” Without hesitation the boy grabbed the canteen and drank hastily, Hongjoong chuckled at the child's enthusiasm. He figured the child had travelled far since Hongjoong didn't know of any villages in the immediate area , and he figured he was completely alone out there, but he had been wrong. 

The canteen was heavy and cool in the boy's hands and the water he drank from it was the coldest and cleanest water the child had ever tasted, it was crisp and sweet and the little boy couldn't get enough, gulping it down like he was cursed with an insatiable thirst.

“Whoa there, slow down or you will get a stomach ache if you drink it all so fast” Hongjoong laughed placing his hand on the canteen. 

The boy stopped immediately, feeling embarrassed. “I’m sorry.” he said quietly, cheeks going pink, he knew that he should’ve been polite and only taken a little, father had taught him better than that.  Hongjoongs eyes softened as he helped wipe the dribbling water from the boy’s chin.

“It’s ok, I would just hate it if you fell ill.” Hongjoong explained.

As Hongjoong was cleaning the child's face, the boy had noticed some more details about the kind man in front of him. Hongjoong was beautiful, almost like a woman, with delicate features like soft lips and long eyelashes but his jawline was sharp and his nose prominent like a man. Hongjoong also was adjourned with so many pieces of sparkling jewelry,he would probably have glittered if standing in direct sunlight. Multiple small silver hoops were placed in one ear and a loong delicate chain hung from the other, he also had many thin silver rings sprinkled with small sparkling jewels all over his hands. All signs pointed to Hongjoong being royalty but the boy couldn't get past the hair. Hongjoong noticed the child staring at his hair slicked back with brown clay and laughed his same twinkling laugh, the child couldn't help but smile at the sound.

“My head must look strange to you my little one but it's something I must do the be here,” Hongjoong explained vaguely and before the boy could press it further he held up his flute.

“I was actually in the middle of doing something very important, and I was almost done, do you mind if I finish my song?”  he asked, the flute in his hand was beautiful, wooden and polished with intricate carvings, the boy nodded as he marveled at the pretty instrument in Hongjoong’s hand. 

With another brilliant smile, Hongjoong silently lifted the flute to his lips and closed his eyes, there was a pause and then the slow yet bouncy notes erupted from the delicate instrument, and the child was entranced. The sound seemed to envelop the clearing and seep into the forest, ringing out for anything with ears to experience. The song was playful but again the boy felt the tugging in his heart like he wanted to cry and burst out laughing all at the same time. After about a minute of silence, the flute being the only sound around them, Hongjoong played the last note of the song, extending it like a cry into the air and then silence followed. Eyes still closed, he placed the flute down on his lap gently. The little boy sat, eyes wide in amazement, he was about to tell Hongjoong how pretty the song had been but before either could speak there was a loud invasive crash that echoed through the sky and shook the ground, causing the child to jump in fright and subsequently into Hongjoongs arms. Then out of nowhere dark grey clouds rolled in and it started to pour rain from the heavens, letting out a surprised cry the boy leapt from Hongjoong’s embrace and threw his little arms up in amazement,

“ Hongjoong look! It's raining!” The boy laughed, twirling and jumping, feeling the cool touch of rain on his face for the first time in months.

 It was the feeling of relief, like swimming in a cold pond on a hot day and knowing his people back in the village won't suffer anymore because of the drought, the small child had never felt this type of joy, and had it not been pouring on them he would have had visible tears. Hongjoong watched the boy, giggling and dancing in the rain and he could feel the child's relief, such an emotional burden this little boy carried, he could feel all the scars this particular child bared and he felt a deep sadness for him. After a bit of dancing and cheering the boy stopped, the rain was pouring harder and the boy was starting to become overwhelmed by the force of the rain. 

“Hongjoong I can't see,” The boy said pathetically, trying to wipe the water form his face only for it to be replaced by more rain. Hongjoong chuckled and gathered his things, then lifting this child up into his arms,

“Come my little one lets find shelter until the storm passes.” he said, holding the child close as the boy buried his face into Hongjoong’s silken robes. Hongjoong leapt off the boulder and with a hustle in his step he jogged off into the woods knowing a particular cave nearby where he could put the child until the rain let up. Reaching the cave in no time at all, Hongjoong placed the boy in the back and went to work making a fire. Using a dry handkerchief Hongjoong helped the boy wipe his face and dry his hair. After the boy had all the water wiped off his face he could finally see perfectly, he took a look around the small dry cave, cozy and warm now that it was lit by firelight and then finally the boy really noticed Hongjoong and gasped. The rain had washed the mud and dirt from his head and revealed his hair to be the color of the sea, a deep dark shade of blue, it was beautiful and shined in the fires light,

“Your hair!” the child exclaimed and all Hongjoong did was smile,

“Yes, now you see why I had to cover it up, many people don't like my hair, it frightens them.” He explained. It was true that the blue hair was strange and the boy had never seen anything like it, but it didn't frighten him.

“It's so pretty Hongjoong'' the small boy replied softly, reaching up to touch it without thinking. Hongjoong leaned down and let the child’s small hands gently grasp a long piece that hung in front of his face, the boy smiled at how soft and silky Hongjoong’s hair felt, no tangles or dirt to be seen. 

“Hongjoong are you a prince?” the boy asked, letting go of Hongjoong’s hair and looking deep into his blue eyes, again the child was met with Hongjoongs twinkling laughter. 

“No child, I am not a prince, where I'm from I don't need to be rich and greedy to live my life, I have 7 brothers and we all live in harmony with the earth and all its creatures,” as he spoke Hongjoong had picked something up off the ground and revealed it to the boy, in his hand was a large lizard, It was black with gold flecks accross its shiny skin. The boy jumped slightly, frightened at how large the reptile was, almost as long as Hongjoong’s forearm but quickly noticed how docile the creature was as it rested lazily in the man's arms. 

“It won't hurt you little one, this is a salamander, its ok to say hello. Most of the time earth's creatures are just as curious as you are.” Hongjoong explained, lightly stroking the Salamanders head. The boy followed suit and ran his little fingers over the salamanders head, giggling at the feeling of the creature's cool smooth skin. After the boy finished petting it, Hongjoong gently placed the salamander on the cave floor and it scurried away.

Both of them sat in silence for a bit listening to the sound of the rain, when suddenly Honjoong turned to the child,

“Little one, why do you not have a name?” Hongjoong asked the boy who had started to nod off against the cave wall. The boy shrugged and rubbed his eyes,

“I do not know, my mother and father gave me none, they just call me ‘boy’ and that's it.” The boy shrugged again, not finding the topic all that interesting

“ Are your mother and father nice to you?” Hongjoong asked this time and again the child shrugged,

“My mother and father give me food and father tells me how lucky I am to have a place to sleep, so yes they are nice to me, I guess.” The little boy stayed quiet in thought for a moment then spoke again

 “My mother is going to have a baby, I will soon have a brother or sister who will follow mother and fathers orders better than me. I can never do anything right so father has to punish me a lot. I try hard but I wasn't born a good child and my mother says that this baby will be born good so they won't need me anymore.” The boy mumbled out the last sentence, his eyes downcast as he picked at some dirt on the cave floor. 

Hongjoong shook with the rage he felt in his heart at the child's words, what he had suspected from the beginning had been true and he knew he never wanted this small boy to suffer again. No child deserved such a fate, to be born to parents who could not see what a valuable and beautiful gift children were. Composing himself before the boy could see his anger Hongjoong sighed and reached out move the hair from the boy's face, tangled and dirty it was currently a mess on his head.

“Little one, may I have the honor of giving you a name?” Hongjoong spoke softly and the boy's eyes widened like saucers.

“ Really, you can do that?” the boy asked incredulously, Hongjoong giggled at the pure innocence the child exuded,

“Yes I can or if you like you can pick your own name, it's your choice.” At Hongjoongs words the boy's face looked as if he told him that pigs could fly. After a moment of thinking the child made up his mind.

“ I want you to choose for me, please?” and with that Hongjoong smiled back and grabbed the child gently placing him on his lap, it was starting to get cold, so hongjoong wrapped them both in a spare silk robe he had, the boy laid his head on Hongjoongs shoulder relaxing in his loving embrace. After another moment of silence and thinking on Hongjoong’s part he finally spoke.

“I've travelled to many lands vastly different from this one and I've met many people who look very different from me and even you, and I've heard many different languages spoken. Based on what I've learned through all my years on this planet I think I have the perfect name for you little one” Hongjoong explained. The boy was almost trembling with excitement 

“What is it?! What is it?!” The boy asked impatiently, Hongjoong looked down on the small boy, so young and not deserving of all that he been handed from the cruel world, and he smiled

“I'd like to give you the name Nen. It comes from a far away land called Egypt and it means ancient waters and like those waters you are strong, brave and resilient and more beautiful than anyone cares to realize. I haven't known you long sweet child but I feel like this name is perfect for you, if you will have it.” The boy looked up into Hongjoons eyes, searching for any sign he was lying or could at any moment take what he said back, but all he could find in Hongjoong’s deep sea blue eyes was love and acceptance, two things the boy knew little of. 

“Thank you…” was all the boy breathed before he buried his face into Hongjoongs chest and cried, he cried out of joy and relief and happiness, finally he had a name, finally he might actually be worthy enough to be called a good child. 

“My name is Nen. “ the boy cried and Hongjoong held him tighter, fighting the urge to cry himself. After calming down they sat together in silence as the rain outside continued to pour, Nen feeling warm and protected in Hongjoong’s arms.

“Nen would you like me to accompany you back to your village when the rain stops?” Hongjoong asked, curious to see what the child would say,and almost as if without thinking Nen spoke quickly and honestly.

“I don't want to go back..” was all he could reply, Hongjoong pondered for a second before he responded, testing the waters.

“Would you like to come home with me? The place I come from, there are other people there with me and my brothers, other children and grown-ups who were treated unfairly in their old lives. We welcomed them to our home and they came with us to find peace and happiness because where we live, there is no sadness or pain and if you really would like too, you can come with me too.” Nen sat up to look into Hongjoongs face again, trying to find any hints that he was kidding or fooling him but again Nen found no trace of badness or malice in Hongjoong’s eyes and for the 3rd time that day Nen cried,

“Yes! Please, Hongjoong I want to go live with you and meet your brothers and all the other nice people, Please!” Nen cried and Hongjoong held the weeping boy again laughing at his display of joy.

“Ok my dear Nen, we shall go once the rain passes, but that might not be for a while, so you should sleep. Would you like me to play you a song to help you sleep?” Hongjoong asked, arranging the spare robes he had into a makeshift bed with Nen resting his head on Hongjoong’s lap.

“Yes please.” Nen snuggled up into the robes, getting comfy and excited at the idea of hearing Hongjoong play again.

 After Nen became comfortable, Hongjoong wasted no time bringing his flute to his lips and playing a soft slow lullaby, sure to help the child sleep. Nen very quickly felt like he was drifting, the soft sound of the flute mixed with Hongjoongs scent coming off the robes- rain and tea leaves- lulled the boy and soon he drifted off into a deep sleep. All of Nens fears and worries would be forgotten, all the pain he experienced would be like it never happened, Nen would be reborn and forget what suffering and neglect even felt like. Hongjoong would be there though to guide little Nen into his new life and he vowed to take care of the child for as long as Nen needed. The last thing Nen remembered was dreaming of colors, bright and warm. They welcomed him to a new beginning, there were other people like Hongjoong had said,with smiling faces and welcoming arms and behind those people stood 7 men all various heights, dressed in multi colored robes like Hongjoong wore and each man had bright hair colors, they were Hongjoong’s brothers. Nen, feeling a little frightened at first, slowly relaxed and walked into the bright picture ahead letting his short life go and forgetting it all together, this was joy, this was love and this was peace. Just as Hongjoong had said. Nen really didn't understand where he was but he was happy and that's all that mattered. 

Hongjoong waited until he finished his song to check the child, once it was over the boy had stilled, his pulse stopped. Every time he did this the people he took always slipped after the first few notes but he always finished the song as a way to honor those who made the journey from this life to the afterlife. Almost like a eulogy in the form of a song. Once he put his flute away he stood and gathered Nen’s small body in his arms. Fixing the boy's hair and wiping any dirt he had on his face. Out of the Corner of his eye Hongjoong saw the salamander form earlier crawl out from a gap in the wall. Hongjoong rolled his eyes, turning away from the creature.

“I figured you had left. I know this wasn't exactly what I had planned but Nen found me in the middle of nowhere, that's not a coincidence” He turned back and in the Salamanders place stood a man, tall and ethereal, just as beautiful as Hongjoong but with stronger, shaper features and long black hair draped languidly over his broad shoulders. The other man stood and narrowed his almond eyes at Hongjoong

“You said you weren't going to take sacrifices anymore, what changed? Brother.” the man spoke in a deep voice and Hongjoong sighed,

“Seonghwa I know you heard what Nen told me, you heard about the life he has had to face at only 6 years old, I'm sorry I wasn't going to just take Nen back to that village. You can say it’s their sacrifice for the rain but I don't regret my decision.” Hongjoong explained sternly.

Seonghwa said nothing as he walked over to Hongjoong and Nen, black and gold robes flowing behind him, gently he reached out and placed a hand on the child's head, feeling the same sadness that hongjoong felt for the poor boy.

“I know Hongjoong, I heard everything and I probably would have done the same thing but now the village will think that our kindness comes with a price, we are trying to show the mortals we are benevolent Gods and we are not to be feared. Once they find Nen’s body they will know that you took him as payment for the rain.” Seonghwa explained grabbing a piece of Nen’s hair to show it turning silver, a common trademark of the people who were sacrificed to the Sky God. With each victim of a God, there are signs or ways to know which deity had been present and for Hongjoong, God of the heavens and sky, it's the hair turning silver or white.

Hongjoong didn't say anything, he understood where his brother was coming from, he and his brothers all tried to work with humanity and help them in any ways they could and they wanted to show the humans that they can help without needing sacrifices and bloodshed, Hongjoong had heard the prayers from the people who lived in the drought stricken area and he fully intended to give them the rain without payment but he couldn't leave the boy, Hongjoong knew Nen was better off, he had to believe Nen living forever in paradise would be better than staying on earth and continuing to be abused.

 Without saying another word to his brother, Hongjoong took the child and exited the cave, making his way back to where Nen’s village was. He could be on the outskirts of the village in the blink of an eye but he decided to walk and take his time, needing to come to terms with his own selfish act. A part of him didn't regret taking Nen but the other part of his soul knew that he had acted rashly and basically robbed Nen of his life. The child wouldn't be able to grow up and experience life, he would forever be a child. Humans were destructive and evil creatures, born with greed in their hearts but not all of them grew to be monsters, if he had let Nen live would Nen had grown to be a monster like his father or grow to become someone important who would have made great changes in his community or was it all futile seeing as though Nen could just as easily died at the hands of his father. This division of what was right versus what was needed tore Hongjoong apart,he messed up but he had to take solace in the fact that regardless of everything that's happened, Nen was happy now. Hongjoong could feel Nen’s joy and he knew the child waited for him to come home. Hongjoong had finally found his way to the hill the village sat upon and stopped in front of the stream that sat in the outskirts of the village, it had previously been a dried up channel in the dirt but because of the rain it was full and thriving all over again. With gentle hands he laid the child face up in the shallowest part of the stream, upon first glance it looked as if the child had just fallen asleep in the water but the pale skin and silver hair were indicators that the child had been taken by the sky deity. 

In their world, gods were real and every human knew that although the humans both worshiped and feared the Gods. All Hongjoong ever wanted was peace on the planet but for centuries, humans always seemed to stand in the way, abusing the land and creatures, taking more than needed and killing each other because of greed and malice and he had always felt that it would get worse. Hongjoong wanted things to change, that's why he and his brothers swore to help the humans so there would be no fear and finally the gods could coexist with the humans, that was why the humans were created right? Hongjoong didn't really remember how or why humans were created and he honestly didn't even remember how he himself was created, it had been a few millenniums, but he always wondered why he was created, was it to be worshipped as a higher being or did he silently wish to be like the humans. Hongjoong didn't know and he felt like all he did was spend his time trying to figure it out. It didn't help that his own brothers did not share his views, the majority of them taking their place as gods who, though benevolent, were to be worshiped by the humans and they saw themselves as superior in every way. He led them well though he couldn't change their attitudes.

“Come Hongjoong, Nen is waiting for you back home with the others.” Seonghwa said softly,having followed Hongjoong to return Nen to his village.

 Seonghwa had stood watching over his brother and leader, as the blue haired god stood at the stream's edge, deep in thought. All hongjoong could do was nod, long blue hair falling over his face. He felt a twinge in his gut, he knew things would get worse, but hopefully only because it would eventually get better. The sound of men approaching the stream could be heard close by and the two ethereal beings retreated silently into the forest, wishing silently for a better tomorrow. 

[elementsbyksorbe]

Homeowners Jump Into Home Improvement Projects

“There’s nothing like staying at home for real comfort.” – Jane Austen

We all have something in our home that we would change if given the opportunity. Or had the time. The last months have given homeowners the time, and a lot of it. And in that time, as most spent quite a few more hours in our homes, many homeowners decided it was time for a change.

“With social distancing requirements, changes in work style and recommendations to stay home, the pandemic really put the focus on our living spaces,” says Kathy Sorbe, owner and lead designer at The Elements in Storm Lake and Ankeny. “Homeowners quickly recognized the limitations in their homes, and many decided it was time for a change.”

Sorbe says some of these projects were do-it-yourself with homeowners armed with a paintbrush and social media inspiration. But many took this opportunity to think about their home, how they use it and live in it and what they can do to improve it on a bigger scale with The Elements’ Design Team.

“The first question that most homeowners ask when undertaking a major remodel or renovation is whether it’s worth it,” says Mishelle Lalone, a designer at The Elements in Storm Lake. “Some changes can really add value to your home. Others may not add dollars to the appraisal, but these updates and upgrades can add intangible rewards like comfort and convenience. In these cases, the homeowner’s goal is simply to make their home more enjoyable.”

A pool is a perfect example. It’s not an inexpensive upgrade, and some real estate professionals even believe that it can decrease the value of your home or make it more challenging to sell. However, a pool can add hours and hours of family fun, even in the limited time Iowa’s season allows and is an additional space to entertain and relax.

Will a pool bring you a dollar-for-dollar return on your investment? No. Will you ever see wider smiles on your children and grandchildren when you tell them there will be a pool? Probably not.

Sorbe and her team help homeowners balance these two goals.

Homeowners are heading downstairs in a new way. Rather than just extra space, lower levels are great for entertaining, games and sometimes even a quiet getaway. A wet bar and game table equipped with roller chairs are adjacent to an enviable home entertainment system, making this lower level a favorite spot in this home.

According to Zillow, more Americans are interested in renovating their kitchens than any other room, which isn’t surprising to the Design Team at The Elements. Kitchen remodels are the most popular home improvement project in America. Along with bathrooms, they’re one of the priciest, so input and assistance from a design professional can save you time, money and a lot of headaches.

“It’s commonly held belief that remodeling your kitchen will increase the value of your home, matching the investment on the project,” says Lalone. “Spend $20,000 on a remodel and add $20,000+ to your asking price. While not always the case, there is an opportunity to add real value to your home with an updated kitchen.”

Sorbe says that not only do homeowners frequently add the cost of the project to the value of the home, a well-thought-out, timeless and functional kitchen can add more value than the dollars invested in the project.

Kitchens are easily the most-used room in a home, and they can tend to show wear, which can quickly make the space look dated, worn and tired.

“A timeless and simple kitchen that’s functional for the homeowners is the best option,” says Sorbe. “Lots of detail, like an elaborate backsplash, decorative painting or even intricate flooring will get busy and tiresome. We like to add details in artwork and the accessories, which keep the space fresh.”

Three large windows dramatically transform this from a basement bedroom to a lovely guest room. The bed has very few frills and notice how the large artwork makes the space seem even bigger.  

We all love our families, but whether you’re a youngster, teenager or parent, we all need our privacy, and many homeowners look to create this solitary space in the primary bedroom.

“Creating a primary bedroom suite with an attached bathroom – double sink a must! – and walk-in closets is not always as challenging as some homeowners think,” says Lalone. “Moving away from dressers and chests and toward well-designed storage in walk-in closets can free up space and create a more restful, soothing bedroom where you can relax and recharge.”

The Design Team also recommends moving away from elaborate bedding, instead choosing more simple styles in natural fabrics like cotton and linen. And just like most other spaces, the designers add energy, color and whimsy in the artwork and accessories.

Most importantly, outdoor living furniture and accessories must be durable and able to stand up to everything Mother Nature tosses out. Homeowners are expanding their usable space outdoors. Defining the space with a patio, deck or even pergola, homeowners find these outdoor living spaces used and enjoyed frequently.

An extra amount of time indoors over the past few months has many homeowners looking to maximize the amount of living space in their homes, and to do that, many are looking down.

“Lower levels offer a lot of opportunity to expand,” says Lalone, “adding valuable square footage and usable space.”

The Design Team has added extra bedrooms, theatre spaces and home offices, as well as transformed this frequently unused space into man caves, bar areas and even game rooms. The potential in this often-overlooked space is limitless.

“In many new constructions, builders are taking a very different approach with the lower level,” says Sorbe. “They are using larger windows, finer details and, probably the biggest change, raising the ceiling height in the basement to 8, 9 or even 10 feet. The bigger windows and elevated ceilings completely remove the ‘basement vibe’ from these spaces. Gone is that underground feeling that some basements can’t avoid.”

What if you don’t have 9-foot ceilings in the basement? Can you still convert it to a lively, usable space? Sorbe says yes. The Design Team can help select colors and even furniture styles that help create the illusion of a more spacious area without a major construction investment.

The Elements loves working outdoors. Spring will be here before you know it; now is the time to plan your outdoor space. There’s time for your custom outdoor furniture to arrive and be ready for the first nice day!

Homeowners aren’t just thinking about the spaces with four walls and a roof; the outdoors offers an abundance of opportunity to expand. Stamped concrete patios and composite deck materials mean these spaces have little to no maintenance, and the setting is pretty amazing.

“I know it’s still cold, and we see far more white than green now, but spring is closer than you think,” says Sorbe. “Now is the perfect time to plan for warmer weather and your outdoor room.”

Outdoor kitchens … even weatherproof televisions with surround sound … mean that relaxing and entertaining outdoors has evolved to a new level of comfort and convenience. And while many people can’t shake the memory of the “lawn chair” that was far from comfortable, Sorbe says their outdoor living furniture doesn’t sacrifice comfort for durability.

“People laugh when we tell them that some of our outdoor lines are more comfortable than the furniture they have in their living room,” says Sorbe. “We get to chuckle when their eyes get wide as they settle into some of the most comfortable seating in the market today!”

The Elements features outdoor living furniture from O.W. Lee, Lexington and Summer Classics, all carefully chosen lines that offer stylish and comfortable pieces that can hold up to even the roughest weather that an Iowa summer can serve up. Sorbe says outdoor living furnishings have to hold up, and you have to love using them.

“Planning an outdoor space can be daunting because homeowners often don’t know where to start,” says Sorbe. “We don’t just work inside … working with homeowners to envision, plan and furnish their outdoor space is one of our favorite things to do. Whether it’s an in-home or in-store consultation, we can help homeowners create the outdoor space of their dreams!”

Gold accents in the lighting and the hardware look fine and smooth so The Design Team used a textured runner on the floor and raw wood and metal accents for contrast. The white-on-white kitchen is the perfect canvas to update in this clean and timeless space.

If your project is bigger than what your paintbrush can handle, learn how The Elements’ Design Team can help you with your remodel, addition or just to refresh your space with a signature Consultation or House Call. Visit them in Storm Lake or Ankeny or online at elementsbyksorbe.com. Like them on Facebook and Instagram and be sure to explore The Elements’ profile on Houzz.com.

[sa-gt-tarrius]

Everything is Okay [Secret Santa gift]

Warnings: Hypothermia, mild language, fear

@barclays-sides @secret-sanders-sized

Before you say anything... I know you asked for fluff and I promise you it’s in there... I’m just a sucker for drama and couldn’t control myself for three seconds. (Nothing bad happens to anyone, I swear. *sob*)

After a camping trip gone awry, Logan finds help from an unexpected source. If only Roman was here to see this...

***

Logan realized he didn’t think this whole thing through.

Now, Logan wasn’t stupid, not really. He just made a miscalculation—a simple judgement error. It happens to the best. But this particular lapse of judgement was about to cost him greatly.

Shivering rapidly, Logan tugged his coat tighter against his body, pulling his legs further underneath the tree branches looming overhead. It wasn’t like journeying this deep into the woods was Logan’s idea, anyway. Roman had suggested they, along with Virgil, go camping to catch up on some much-needed quality time. And damn it all, Logan agreed to come, if only to appease his puppy-eye face. So they decided to camp in a nearby national park. It fulfilled Logan’s requirement of being close to civilization while also satisfying Roman’s desire for adventuring in the woods.

When Logan got separated from the group, he did everything he was supposed to do. He stayed put, began blowing his whistle, and waited hours for someone to find him. But he wasn’t able to stay stationary forever—not with the thunderstorm approaching quickly. So instead of waiting around to get drenched, Logan had found some shelter. It wasn’t much, just a small aspen tree, but it kept Logan mostly dry. But even the helpful tree branches couldn’t protect from the blistering cold.

Logan wondered where Roman and Patton were. Did they find sufficient shelter? Or were they searching for Logan in the storm like a couple of idiots? With any luck, they took refuge in a ranger station and alerted the park authorities about Logan’s disappearance. Surely Logan would be found in due time. The thought alone was comforting. Everything is okay, he thought, trying to keep his spirits up. He’d be fine.

But nice thoughts wouldn’t keep Logan warm. The man kept running his hands against his forearms, trying vainly to summon heat from friction. But instead of warming up, he just got his gloves wet. Logan sighed, settling on crossing his arms instead. It wasn’t ideal, but it was all he could do for now. He simply had to tough out the cold and wait for rescue. Easier said than done, he thought bitterly.

Minutes had gone by. Or was it hours? Logan’s coat had gotten completely damp by then, to the point that it would be much warmer without it. Cold water leeches heat faster than cold air does. Logan knew that already. He should take the coat off. Yeah, that sounded good. The coat was unceremoniously shed onto the muddy ground, along with the sweater he wore beneath it. All it left him with was his t-shirt and pants, both of which were slowly being soaked by the rain still dripping through the above branches. Logan briefly considered taking the rest of his clothes off. Would that help? Logan wasn’t sure. His thoughts were fuzzing as if his mind was a TV channel of nothing but static.

Whatever. Roman and Patton would come soon enough. Logan grunted, shuffling closer to the trunk of the aspen tree. Thunder rumbled overhead, but Logan didn’t react. He sat still, shivering violently as the storm continued to pass over the park. Everything is okay. It had to be.

The rain was pouring much harder now; the tree branches provided very little protection from the onslaught of raindrops. Each droplet stung when they landed on Logan’s pale skin. (Was his skin blue? Nah, that must just be his imagination.) Logan regretted ditching the jacket, despite knowing that it wouldn’t help at this point. Still, by instinct alone, he reached for it. But when his hand came into contact with the soaked fabric, Logan realized something crucial. He couldn’t move his fingers. They twitched under his gaze, attempting to budge, but remained frozen in place.

Suddenly, the pieces clicked. Hypothermia. No wonder he was so delirious.

This was bad. This was very, very bad. Logan had to get warmed up quickly, but he just couldn’t think straight enough to do anything about it. All he could think about was hold cold he was and how nice it would be to sleep right on the ground. The dirt would be comfortable enough, right? No, no… He had to stay focused. Warm. He had to get warm. He had to. Had to get warm.

Through the barrage of blurry, inane, hypothermic-induced thoughts, Logan failed to notice someone approaching the aspen tree.

***

The hypothalamus is the part of the brain that regulates body temperature. When it detects a drastic decrease in body heat, it activates a variety of responses to bring the body back to a healthy temperature. Among these responses are shivering, vasoconstriction, and the overbearing impulse to find warmth.

However, while the body is suffering from extreme hypothermia, humans have a strange tendency to remove their clothes, despite the dangerous cold. Biologists have hypothesized that this is because of a malfunction of the hypothalamus brought on by the extreme temperatures, leading those suffering from hypothermia to believe they feel hot, even in the coldest environments.

So when Logan woke up feeling warm, he began to panic. His jacket and coat were gone, and although he could still hear the pouring rain, he felt rather cozy. This was not good at all. He was probably in the third stage of hypothermia, where the human body shuts down to conserve heat. How long did he have? He had to find proper shelter quickly. Who knows how long he’d last in the rain with no protective gear to shield against the rain and wind?

Logan took a glance around, only to find that he couldn’t see anything. At all. It was pitch black, with no trace of light to be seen. Was it truly nighttime already? It was only midday when the storm started. He reached forward, hoping to properly grasp his bearings, only for his hand to connect with a soft, fuzzy surface. A blanket, maybe? Logan thrashed around, trying to throw the blanket off. Hypothermia was known to cause a loss of coordination and dizziness—Logan could confirm that was true as soon as he started moving. He wasn’t cold anymore, but he fumbled a few times and struggled to sit up.

Eventually, though, the blanket was removed. He blinked rapidly as he came to terms with his surroundings. He was not, as he was starting to believe, in a ranger station. In fact, he wasn’t even in a building. He was in a cave, spanning several dozen feet across and reaching upwards for at least two stories. The entrance to the cave laid to Logan’s right—he could see the onslaught of rain, even from afar. In the centre of the cave, a fire was blazing, illuminating the cave in a warm orange glow.

“Oh, you’re awake!”

Logan jolted, whizzing his head around to find the source of the voice. No one was there, at least not that he could see. All that was visible in the dim light was a huge swatch of blue fabric, seemingly hanging in midair. A tapestry? A curtain?

Logan narrowed his eyes, trying to confirm, but froze up when he finally realized what he was looking at. No. It was a shirt. A huge shirt, ten times the size of Logan.

A sharp gasp escaped him as his eyes landed on a pair of hands pressed up against the wall of blue. Each of the hands was bigger than Logan himself. They twitched and fidgeted, somehow alive and moving despite their unreal size. The hands were connected to arms, larger than tree trunks and probably twice as sturdy.

Logan dared to look up further, only to be met with a pair of enormous, worried brown eyes.

“Um…” The giant man shuffled a bit, clearing his throat. “Hi there.”

No, this wasn’t right. Giants didn’t exist. They were legends, myths and nothing more. This had to be a dream. Or perhaps he was hallucinating thanks to the hypothermia. Logan kept his focus locked onto the giant’s huge brown eyes, glimmering faintly in the fire's light. Surely a hallucination wouldn’t look so lifelike, would it? Or was Logan losing his mind out here?

The stunned silence continued. Logan was becoming less and less afraid by the minute, his fear being replaced by a sense of awe and wonder. He was honestly shocked by how human the giant looked and acted. If he was six feet tall instead of sixty, he’d be just as normal a human as Logan.

As Logan inspected the giant, a few details stole his attention. The pebbles littered in the giant’s hair, the dampness of his shirt, the grime that covered his palms… Not to mention the fact that he was hunched over, trying to fit his massive body into such a small space. If he were to stand up, he’d be twice the height of the cave, easily.

“Please don’t freak out,” the giant wavered. Was he… nervous? That was weird.

Logan blinked owlishly, still staring down the massive being before him. “I—I won’t,” Logan replied. He spoke with caution as if he were afraid of saying the wrong thing. “I won’t freak out.”

“Wait, really?” The giant looked genuinely surprised. He quickly brushed a lock of dusty brown hair out of his face. “Cool! Uh, my name is Patton, by the way.”

“I see,” Logan murmured, still completely captivated by Patton. “Good to meet you.” But was it, though? Logan hadn’t decided yet.

Patton frowned, bringing one of his hands up to Logan’s quivering body. “Oh gosh, are you still cold?” he exclaimed, his expression tinged with concern. “You poor thing. Lemme get you warmed up.”

Logan yelped as one of the monstrously large hands slipped around his back and under his legs. “Wait, stop!” he hollered, squirming frantically.

Patton flinched, quickly retracting his hand. “I’m sorry, I'm sorry… I won’t touch you, alright?” The giant put both his hands flat on the ground as an act of surrender. “See? Not touching you.”

“I—I don’t care for heights,” Logan muttered, curling in on himself. “Please don’t lift me like that.”

“Oh. I... I didn’t mean to scare ya, kiddo. I’m so sorry.”

“Who are you?” Logan asked, ignoring the giant’s kiddo comment. He wasn’t interested in apologies—he wanted answers to the stream of questions running through his mind. “Where am I? H—how are you so big?”

Patton lowered his head a bit, still keeping his distance as to not frighten Logan any further. “Well, I’m nobody special. I just live around here.” The giant shrugged limply. “You’re in the mountains by the park. I found you on my hike and brought you here to warm up.”

“Uh-huh.” Logan nodded absently, not paying attention. He quickly evaluated his options: should he stay here with a giant who may or may not cause him harm, or go out and risk getting hypothermia again? Could he even run if he wanted to? His body was still so weak… He huddled further against the jagged wall, shivering. Was he cold or scared? He couldn’t tell. Maybe it was both.

Everything is okay. …Yeah, keep on telling yourself that.

“As for how I’m so big, that’s a funny story. You see, I… uh…” Patton paused, biting his lip at the sight of the trembling man beneath him. “Oh, geez... you’re shaking like a leaf, buddy.” The pair of gigantic hands moved again, shooting towards Logan at the speed of a car. “Here, let me get you warmed up.”

“No!” Logan screeched, covering his face out of instinct. “I said not to—”

“Whoa, whoa, hey!” the giant exclaimed, his hands missing Logan entirely. “Shhh… I'm not touching you. I promise.”

Patton’s hands fumbled with something behind Logan, and suddenly, the smaller man was enveloped by a warm, fuzzy, familiar embrace. Then, as quickly as they came, the hands retreated once again.

“My hoodie is nice and warm,” Patton explained, his voice echoing through the cave. “Get cozy, okay?”

Logan blinked, scanning the blanket on his shoulders more closely, before realizing that it wasn’t a blanket at all. Patton had wrapped him in a sweater, one that spanned his height multiple times over. “I… ah…” Logan stammered, unable to finish a sentence without stuttering, “th—thank you.”

Patton shook his head. “It’s okay,” he said with a kind smile. “I know, I’m pretty scary.” When Logan didn’t reply, Patton turned away to watch the fire, his face crestfallen and flat. “...Maybe I should go get some wood.”

“Wait, I…”

Patton’s eyes shot toward him, attentive and bright. Logan gulped, straightening up under the scrutinizing gaze. Use your words. “I should… th—thank you for coming to my aid. I… t—t—truly appreciate it.”

Silence overcame them for a moment. Logan’s words had somehow floored Patton. His mouth hung agape and eyes blinked rapidly. It took him a minute to reply. “Uh, yeah,” he finally breathed, rubbing his neck with his mammoth hands. “You’re welcome, kiddo. It’s no biggie.”

Logan cocked his head. “It’s, ahh… i—it’s Logan. Not kiddo.”

“Oh.” Patton nodded in confirmation. “Logan. Okay, got it.” The giant turned away from him to stare outside, flinching as thunder rumbled once again. It seemed that the storm would not pass anytime soon. Logan frowned deeply, wondering how long he’d be stuck in this cave for. He had no clue which way the campsite was. And even if he did, there was no chance of him making the long trek down the mountain, anyway. Not in his delirious and weary condition.

Logan snuggled into the sweater as best he could. The sleeve wrapped around his front, but it was so big and awkward that it didn’t stay on that well. It kept falling off him, despite his best efforts to keep it on. He regretted taking his jacket off. It was so cold here, and the fire was too far away to warm him up at all.

But then, suddenly, Logan was ripped from his thoughts as something grazed his shoulder. An index finger. “Do you want to sit closer?” Patton asked tentatively, gesturing to the empty spot beside him.

Logan hesitated, glancing between Patton and the inviting blaze further ahead. The fire looked inviting… and at this point, Logan had to reason not to trust Patton. “I—I should be able to… Yes, that sounds fine.” He steeled himself enough to roll onto his stomach and begin the arduous crawl to the flickering fire. Patton stayed true to his word and didn’t pick him up, instead waiting patiently for Logan to make his way to Patton’s side.

When he made it, he sat cross-legged on the jagged ground, hugging himself tightly. Almost immediately, the heat emanating from the flaming wood overcame Logan, and he sighed in contentment. For the first time all day, he felt rather comfortable.

Something shuffled behind Logan, and seconds later the sweater was draped over his shoulders again. Patton gave him a gentle smile, keeping his voice level and quiet. “Better rest up. I’ll take you home when the storm passes.”

“Satisfactory,” Logan mumbled, pulling the sweater around his legs. Everything is okay. But was it? Logan wasn’t sure yet. He had to ask.

“Patton,” Logan whispered, eyes glued to the fire. “You won’t hurt me… will you?”

“Of course not,” Patton replied, looking rather offended at the suggestion. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Logan nodded. “I believe you.” And he did.

Everything is okay. And this time, it was.