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lumine-no-hikari · 10 months ago

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Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #54

Last night, after I made the locket, I made pumpkin soup for you. But I cannot give it to you, so instead I gave it to all my friends at the place I like to go to. They were having a soup contest, so it was the perfect excuse. I've never made pumpkin soup before. But I'll walk you through how I made it nonetheless, because I think it turned out really well.

I started out with about 4 cups of my famous (it's not really famous, haha!) bone broth. Do you remember the letter I wrote to you about that, a while back? The broth I make is nutritious and intensely flavorful, so I'm glad that I had saved some of it in the freezer. It really came in handy for this:

To this, I added 4 cans of pureed pumpkin. I wished I could use fresh mashed and roasted pumpkin, but it's out of season:

I know that maybe it looks gross, but I promise you, it's very tasty stuff. It's everything I can do to resist eating it straight from the can with a spoon, hahaha!

I used a whisk to incorporate the pureed pumpkin into the broth. It looked like this by the time I was done:

From there, I incorporated maybe half a pint of heavy cream or thereabouts; it's very ballparked - I poured from the pint "until the whispered voices of my ancestors told me to stop", or so the saying goes:

...There are a lot of random sayings in my world that I think you would find delightful, actually. I really wish you were here; there are so many beautiful and funny and joyful things I want to show you. I'd give just about anything to bring out the sparkle in your eyes, the joyful smile in your face, and the delighted laughter in your voice.

I'm sorry that I couldn't somehow be around to help you when you needed it most. I'm sorry that I can't just snap my fingers and swap our places, so that you can have this beautiful life that I have now; I'm not as deserving of it as you would be if you could be here. I didn't start out kind and good like you did. You started out good and fell down. I started out bitter and managed to claw my way back up, but... only because I had help. I'm not sure I'd have managed on my own. And in your shoes, I'm certain that I'd have cracked under the pressure long before you did.

...Still. Even knowing what horrors are likely coming for you, I'd still gladly trade places so that you don't have to suffer. I'd do it in a heartbeat; I wouldn't even hesitate. The people in my immediate vicinity deserve someone more present, more capable, more wise and empathetic, and a bit less clumsy and glitchy than me anyhow. You'd fit quite nicely in my place, I think.

In any case, heavy cream adds a touch of decadence to things, but you have to be careful how much you use, because if you add too much, it'll mute other flavors:

From here, I just took a whole block of cream cheese and plopped it in there:

I waited for the heat of the rest of the soup to soften it, and then I used the whisk to incorporate it smoothly. Easy peasy.

But it was still missing a certain something. A friend of mine was visiting while I was making this, and so I asked her for her opinion. She suggested that it was missing a kind of caramelized, Maillard-reaction-esque sort of flavor. And she was absolutely correct. So I got to work pureeing some sweet onions:

Onions have a lot of sugar in them, and with just a little butter and heat, it's easy to bring out the nutty, caramelized flavor hidden within them:

From here, I incorporated it into the soup:

...I know it looks burnt, hahaha! But I promise you it isn't; the flavor is a complex mix of sweet and savory with that characteristic allium zing; it's VERY delicious.

Here's how the soup looked after the caramelized onions were whisked in:

My friend and I agreed that it didn't need anything more. Though one of my husbands (the one who does not hate soup) tried it, and was sad that it did not taste like pumpkin pie, hahaha! The flavor of this one is closer to something like tomato bisque, except with pumpkin instead of tomato - more savory than sweet.

The next day (which is today!), I brought it to the place. There were 7 other soups there. I'll show you the pictures.

Here's mine in the lineup. You're supposed to drizzle it with the table cream, and then sprinkle some pumpkin seeds on top:

This one was made by our leader. It had a well-balanced flavor and incredible texture:

This one was sweeter than I expected, but it was still very good! The variety of ingredients made for an interesting medley of flavors and textures:

This one was a bit thinner than I expected, but it was still very good! The flavors were spot on for this one!

This combination here is a classic. As you can see, there is a reason it's a classic; it's almost all gone! These flavors work really well together, and the chicken in this one was juicy and tender:

This one. This one managed to be sweet and buttery and savory all at once. I've never had a French onion soup as good as this one. This was my second favorite:

There were even little cheese breads to dunk in there!

Finally, there was this gem of a soup:

I'm sorry, but no description can do this one justice. This was my favorite one, hands down.

So, we all got little cups to put the soup in so we could try them all and select our two favorites. Mine is the top right cup!

Anyway, selecting our favorites is why we get two pennies. We put the pennies into the green cups next to the soups we liked best. I voted for the French onion and the creamy potato bacon soups.

The two soups with the most votes gets a prize. First place was the potato bacon soup. And in second place was the cheesy broccoli soup! Mine came in third place, but if I had just one more vote, I would have tied for second place.

A couple of people came to me and told me that I should have voted for my own soup, and to be sure, I did a fine job of making pumpkin soup for my first attempt, but I liked the other two I voted for better. I'm not sad about how it turned out; I made the soup with the intention of creating joy, not with the intention of competing.

Nonetheless, one of the prizes was a pair of bowls of this type:

The person who won the bowls liked my soup so much that they gave me one of theirs! I was surprised and touched by the gesture!

...Sadly, though, my bowl didn't make it into my front door whole. We got home and I tried to carry too many things back into the house at once (I really ought to know better by now, but it seems I never learn...), and the bowl ended up falling out of my clumsy, dyspraxic hands and shattering on the asphalt of the parking lot:

...I was, for a moment, devastated and stunned. I almost cried; my eyes welled up, but they didn't spill. My husband who was with me helped me pick up the pieces. We brought them into the house.

This thing occurred. And it might seem sad at first glance, but it's not; I promise you: in a few days' time, I will be sipping the soup I made for you from this bowl, and when I do, it will be an even more beautiful bowl than how it looked before it shattered. I won't tell you how; I'm going to leave you in suspense (neener, neener, neener! 🤭). You'll have to read tomorrow's letter to find out.

So keep yourself safe, all right? Make good choices so that you don't disappear. You gotta read tomorrow's letter. And the letter after that. And the letter after that. Okay? Promise me. Because you're loved and needed and wanted in this world. And because you're not hopeless or alone or broken beyond repair.

I'll write again tomorrow. I promise.

Your friend, Lumine

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dankusner · 5 months ago

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Richard Val LeClercq

Richard Val LeClercq, 63, died July 29, 2005, from complications of acute alcoholism. He is survived by his son Noel LeClercq, San Marcos; daughter Desiree LeClercq, Austin; stepson Glenn Ross, Austin; brother Leon LeClercq, Los Angeles; and a host of ex-wives. Val was born in Los Angeles and received his Ph.D. from UCLA, where he swam butterfly and sang tenor in the Opera Workshop. He was hired by the University of Texas Department of English as their authority on poet John Milton. Val taught for almost 30 years, switching specialities to literary criticism and directing the dissertations of many bright English majors. Val was a talented pianist, and had a sweet tenor voice. He was a golden-ear hi-fi enthusiast who designed and built stereo systems. He brought enthusiasm and intelligence into each of his many projects, and somehow talked his friends into participating in each outlandish invention. His family thanks the English Department for its patience with his disease. The family plans a wake to celebrate his life and introduce his old friends to his children. Please call Terri for details of the Final A-B Test. The family hopes each reader will make out a will, right now. Memorials should be sent to Alcoholics Anonymous, North Austin 24-Hour Group, Austin 78758.

Published in the Austin American-Statesman on 8/6/2005.

Richard Val LeClercq ("Val") was by far my favorite college professor at UT in Austin.

One of the reasons I get so pissed off when people say "drugs are bad but alcohol is fine" is because the only person I've ever seen destroyed by a substance addiction was Val--alcohol killed him. After a while he could no longer teach, so he sat at home and I, along with my friend Mike, were the only two people who would spend any time with him.

Unfortunately, after a while, he made it clear that he no longer wanted anyone to be around and while it was incredibly sad, there was nothing more we could do for him and we eventually lost touch.

The last time I saw him, which was sometime in 1999 or maybe early 2000, he seemed to be on the verge of death.

I remember sitting by his hospital bed giving him kumquats, which is all he could eat for some reason.

Cheap vodka did him in. Nonetheless, even with a BAC higher than that of a date-raped sorority girl, he was still the best teacher I've ever had. I always wondered how he was doing.

Val will certainly be missed. I give my condolences to his family, his many ex-wives, and "the Lac", his polish wife who he could never quite seem to get entrance to the US (that's assuming the Lac was still his wife at the time of his death last year).

Val was a nutty guy for sure. But he was also a genius, and made me realize nothing is above scorn, and cynicism trumps all. His Lit-Crit class consisted of taking scholarly writings by well-respected academics and tearing them apart. Truly a great class. We'd spend most of class time in his office drinking cheap coffee or lapsang soushong tea, making fun of the other students in the class (who were wondering where the teacher was) and the staff of the English department. Since he didn't feel like doing it, he would let me grade the papers of students in his other classes (not my fellow students, as that would probably be somewhat of a conflict of interest). I only failed a few people, for the record.

I'll always remember Val, and I wish he didn't force me and Mike to leave him alone in his last years. Alcohol destroyed the life of a great man, and I witnessed it first hand. I can't say the same for pot, cocaine, meth, heroin, or any other drug. If you believe in drug prohibition, you're a worthless hypocrite if you don't also support alcohol prohibition (which, like drug prohibition, we know doesn't work). Of course, even if alcohol had been illegal, Val would have distilled moonshine in his back yard and nothing would have been different. But tonight, I'll drink a glass of cheap plastic-bottle vodka and store-brand cranberry juice in Val's memory (okay, it will be Gray Goose). Cheers, Val.

374L, Earlier 17th Century: Donne, Jonson, and Their Contemporaries

Poetry and prose, 1600 to 1660: the metaphysical and other leading traditions in poetry; the early poems of Milton; the essay, the character, and other prose forms. Three lecture hours a week for one semester. Prerequisite: Nine semester hours of coursework in English or rhetoric and writing.

Milton’s Paradox of Grace in Sonnet 7

From conflict to composure, John Milton’s Sonnet 7—“How Soon Hath Time” (1632)—illustrates two life philosophies and the psychological ramifications each one may offer the individual.

How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, Stol’n on his wing my three-and-twentieth year! My hasting days fly on with full career, But my late spring no bud or blossom shew’th. Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth That I to manhood am arriv’d so near; And inward ripeness doth much less appear, That some more timely-happy spirits endu’th. Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow, It shall be still in strictest measure ev’n To that same lot, however mean or high, Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heav’n: All is, if I have grace to use it so As ever in my great Task-Master’s eye.

The poem’s speaker makes the successful transition from one philosophy to the other, describing the process in three quatrains and a couplet.

In the first four lines of the sonnet, he is the victim of the struggle between determinism and his own expectations.

By the end of the poem, he has found a peaceful release in the resignation that he may only control his response to life, not the course or even the content of it.

The first quatrain of Milton’s Sonnet 7 presents the initial circumstances of our speaker’s quandary.

Thematically, he feels in conflict with the passage of time, exasperated by its adroit and speedy progression.

He is surprised by Time’s ability to act independently of, and with little regard for, his self-admitted immaturity as it steadily takes possession of his youth.

Despite the speaker’s apparent sincerity, we are made aware of the true nature of the conflict through Milton’s ironic structure and word choice.

There are obvious disparities between the physical existence of the speaker and the abstract “Time,” as well as the tone of hopelessness inspired by the speaker’s relatively young age.

These incongruities reveal that the conflicts arise from the speaker’s own assumptions and expectations for his life.

The first indication of Time’s control is given in line one.

Personified, it terminates the first two iambic feet and is followed by a medial caesura in the form of a comma.

This strong termination and short pause emphasize the description that follows.

A metaphor is employed to describe Time as a subtle thief, this concept mimicked by the unaccented syllable cluster in the center of the last three iambs, “stealing” the line with an increase in metrical pace.

This metaphor is extended into the next line as Time becomes a flying creature.

The metonymy of “on his wing” heightens the sense of swift action.

Time—in this animated, masculine form—seems to outshine the speaker himself, whose only presence is indicated in the thrice-repeated adjective of possession, “my.”

This is curious incongruity, for despite the speaker’s ability to recount the circumstance, he is unable to act upon it.

Time is the active party here, stealing and flying beyond the speaker’s control.

With a preponderance of th and f consonant clusters in line one, there is the impression of a sputtering delivery of the exclamation as Time steals the speaker’s very breath.

The ironic personification of Time, and the inability of the speaker to control it, points up the speaker’s preoccupation with the concept of control.

Why is “he” so frustrated when faced with a basic element of the natural world?

The first quatrain illustrates an Aristotelian viewpoint that can wreak havoc in a young man’s life—and, indeed, it does cause problems for the speaker.

Implicit in his accusations are the clear traces of particular expectations.

First, the exclamation that Time is passing is the result of the assumption that it would not.

The speaker is chagrined as Time steals his “three-and-twentieth year,” flying as it goes.

An interesting shift occurs here as Milton introduces an inconsistency.

The “my” of line three claims the flight of “hasting days”; whereas, in lines one and two, only Time assumes the tenor of the bird metaphor.

With this in mind, the irony of “on with full career” is even more poignant.

Even though his days pass by at full speed, flying “on” instead of “off” (away from the speaker), he does not claim control of them.

It is the last line of the quatrain, however, that reveals the Aristotelian tendency to make plans, to anticipate their fulfillment, and then to draw conclusions based on assumptions.

“But” indicates the speaker’s disappointment as he muses upon his unsatisfied expectations and his wasted youth.

The progression of “bud or blossom” displays a distinct desire to advance through stages to some kind of tangible, evident goal, this desire explicitly articulated by “shew’th.”

Assisting this Aristotelian concept of expected progression is the specification of the speaker’s age.

He makes a point of stating the particular odd year (23rd) that marks his point of despair.

Again, Milton seasons the predicament with irony.

“Late spring” marks the end of childhood, but it also is the beginning of adulthood, a point the speaker cannot imagine.

He can only perceive the “subtle” thievery of Time, enervated by its elusiveness.

This is given formal, mimetic enactment as the masculine end-rhymes of lines two and three descend from sharp high vowels (“year,” “career”) down through “no bud or blossom,” to the despondently low ew of “shew’th.”

Appropriately, the moments of metrical incoherence occur at the points of doubt and frustration.

The “subtle thief of” unaccented cluster is matched by an even more uncontrollable stressed cluster in line three— “hasting days fly on.”

These are followed by the hesitant unstressed foot beginning line four, which consolidates the attempt to thwart the speaker’s rigid iambic pentameter.

A shift from an a posteriori stance to an a priori position of questioning provides for thematic, structural, and tonal changes in the second quatrain.

For the speaker, these four lines are an aporia following the hopeless feeling in the first quatrain.

He is not sure what to make of the situation.

Allowing his mind to survey the circumstances and distinguish the elements of his conflict, he moves into a more balanced state of mind.

This reflective yet passive stance is enacted both verbally and formally.

“Perhaps” and “might” of line one indicate the speaker’s reluctance to once again impose his hasty conclusions as he reflects.

His “semblance” provides him with a self outside of himself whom he must confront.

This is not unlike his relationship to Time, which serves nicely as a scapegoat in the first quatrain.

This duality is embellished throughout the rest of the sonnet.

It introduces the important concept of multiplicity as a means to achieve balance and self-understanding.

On the one hand, the speaker’s “semblance” reflects a boy nearing manhood.

However, inner contemplation reflects immaturity—“ripeness doth much less appear.”

Recalling the premature expectation of “bud or blossom” in line four, the actual reflection “might deceive the truth” by convincing the speaker that he has become a man.

Milton effectively creates this sense of prematurity by inverting the natural subject-to-verb order of line six, “I to manhood am arriv’d so near.”

Again, the notions of anticipation and frustration are heightened by the phrases “to manhood am arriv’d” (an ideal) and “so near.”

On the contrary, “inward” contemplation reveals a green, hopeful state that neither thwarts nor frustrates maturity but, rather, promises to endue/endow at the hands of “timely- happy spirits.”

It’s important to note that these two reflections, though distinct, are conjoined.

The “and” of line seven brings the two reflections into a balanced composite portrait of the speaker, appealing to the sense of sight with the words “semblance” and “appear.”

Formally, this multiplicity transforms the cranky pace and tone of the first quatrain.

Lines five, six, and seven, instead of medial caesuras, place unstressed feet at the third foot, creating fluid but strongly polarized lines.

Their aural rhythm mimics the thematic duality of the quatrain.

The rhyme similarly mimics this new symmetry by achieving the abba scheme, correcting the abbc variation of the previous quatrain.

The calm tone of these second four lines allows Milton to alter the relationship between the speaker and his conflict.

For the first time, the first person pronoun “I” is asserted, the paradox resulting from this acknowledgment of multiplicity.

Likewise, Time is no longer an elusive, thieving personification but, rather, a descriptive aid, “timely.”

Although his self-criticism is harsh (“inward ripeness doth much less appear”) the speaker arrives, inadvertently, at new conclusions that are not, in this case, fatalistic.

The metaphysical “happy spirits” that will ripen the speaker’s character are both generous and opportune, but they are also independent of the speaker.

Has he learned his lesson?

He does not attempt to distinguish their ranks (as in his articulation of age), choosing instead “some” (happy spirits).

Nor does he try to discern the “bud or blossom” of their assistance.

The shift from desire for external evidence to internal observation seems promising.

The formal aural lightness of line eight seems to indicate such a progression as the accented “timely-happy spirits endu’th” replaces “no bud or blossom shew’th” from line four.

At this point, Milton’s irony becomes paradoxical.

Inner contemplation, not external “semblance,” reveals the truth: passive reflection, not external activity, brings disparity into balance.

The last quatrain synthesizes the sonnet’s first eight lines.

Beginning with “Yet,” the tone of resignation, of unquestioning acceptance, is immediately established with the volta—that is, the turn in thought or argument in the sonnet form.

Thematically, Milton projects the concepts of multiplicity and passivity into a religious context.

Giving them a religious breadth, he also alters their previously individualized application.

Our speaker seems to represent every Protestant, if not “everyman.”

The point, however, is not pushed to its extreme.

God remains rather ambiguous, as does the role of the divine, in salvation through multiplicity and passivity.

Just as the first quatrain has a distinctly Aristotelian bias, the last quatrain displays a definite Platonic viewpoint.

Binary oppositions abound, a syntactic ligation stringing them together indifferently.

The four inclusive instances of “or” combine the many facets of the speaker’s maturing character into a veritable, and variable, cynosure of possibility.

The speaker knows not to attempt their distinction, thrice referring to the options as “it” and leaving the decisions up to Time, which has reassumed a personified stance.

The reconstituted entity seems to be a “comic” hybrid of the metaphorical thieving bird and the “happy spirits.”

As an afterthought, Milton’s phrase “and the will of Heav’n” gives Time divine inspiration.

Medial caesuras after “more” and “lot” help to break up the four lines, emphasizing the multiplicity effect.

“To” and “Toward” offer multiple meanings for the concept “approach,” becoming a combination of spatial movement and movement towards similarity of kind.

Of the three quatrains, the third is the least coherent, metrically.

It contains the only enjambment (“ev’n/To that same lot”), but, as if “in strictest measure,” it is accepted with its disparate and overreaching patterns.

The themes of resignation and passivity, however, are the foci of lines nine through twelve.

With the reintroduction of the personified Time, “I” is replaced by the once-mentioned first- person object “me.”

This submission, in reverence to the divine, is encouraged by the certainty and confidence of the “shall be” prophesy of line ten.

“That same lot” embodies the essence of the speaker’s resigned indifference.

Completely turned around, he no longer has expectations of his own but, rather, offers the amorphous “lot” of his life to Time and “the will of Heav’n.”

Ironically, the two “shall be still in strictest measure” if this resignation is sustained.

The power of the volta and the binary oppositions allow for the notion of “lot,” or a multifaceted future.

This is quite a departure from the very specific “three-and- twentieth year,” at which time “bud or blossom” are the only options.

With resignation comes the acceptance of multiplicity RVL – Yes, of course, you needed to elaborate further, especially But what you did do with the formal is quite good! And your thematic discussion is clearly the best in the class!

Richard Val LeClercq, 63, died July 29, 2005, from complications of acute alcoholism.

He is survived by his son Noel LeClercq, San Marcos; daughter Desiree LeClercq, Austin; stepson Glenn Ross, Austin; brother Leon LeClercq, Los Angeles; and a host of ex-wives. Val was born in Los Angeles and received his Ph.D. from UCLA, where he swam butterfly and sang tenor in the Opera Workshop. He was hired by the University of Texas Department of English as their authority on poet John Milton. Val taught for almost 30 years, switching specialities to literary criticism and directing the dissertations of many bright English majors. Val was a talented pianist, and had a sweet tenor voice. He was a GoldenEar hi-fi enthusiast who designed and built stereo systems. He brought enthusiasm and intelligence into each of his many projects, and somehow talked his friends into participating in each outlandish invention. His family thanks the English Department for its patience with his disease. The family plans a wake to celebrate his life and introduce his old friends to his children. Please call Terri for details of the Final A-B Test. The family hopes each reader will make out a will, right now. Memorials should be sent to Alcoholics Anonymous, North Austin 24-Hour Group. — Family-Placed Obituary, Austin American-Statesman, August 6, 2005

on the verbal. and the paradoxes of fate.

The speaker accepts passively his lot, willing to follow Time and an ill-defined destiny.

Completing the transformation from obsessive control to passive resignation, the couplet is, itself, a binary opposition.

At the end of the poem, it presents a promise and a warning to the speaker.

“All is,” isolated by an initial caesura, restates the “lot” concept of a multiplicitous future, setting it apart as the stake in the balance.

In regular iambic pentameter, the speaker evenly states, “if I have grace to use it so,” revealing a dependency on “the will of Heav’n” and the leadership of Time.

The last line of the sonnet breaks up the rhythm, stressing “great Task-Master’s eye.”

This is appropriate, considering that the appearance of “inward ripeness” is to be evaluated with the inner eye, and not the deceptive, outer reflection.

The speaker of Sonnet 7, over the course of the poem, moves from anxiety to inner peace.

This transformation is achieved through the acceptance of a passive role in relation to Time and Heaven.

Milton’s conclusion, however, poses several questions.

Fittingly, these concern the duality of the speaker’s redemption. If inner peace is contingent on the grace of God, why is the speaker’s own self-evaluation made to seem so important?

Likewise, if the speaker has achieved this transformation of attitude from the volta in line nine to the end, why is there a lingering question as to the certainty of “if I have grace”?

Punctuating these questions is the uncanny duality of “I” and “eye.”

Placed in such close proximity in the text, the distinction between these homophones is difficult to discern if heard aloud. Milton leaves us, ultimately, with a perplexing conclusion. Is the giver of grace just as multiplicitous as the life that receives it? A passive response, we have learned, keeps those questions at bay.

John Ewing

The Poetry of John Milton,

ENG 363

Prof. Richard “Val” LeClercq University

of Texas at Austin 1989

RVL – Yes, of course, you needed to elaborate further, especially on the verbal. But what you did do with the formal is quite good! And your thematic discussion is clearly the best in the class!

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casspurrjoybell-19 · 5 months ago

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Does it Matter? - Chapter 67 - Part 3

*Warning Adult Content*

"We'll get Brayan's sword cleaned for him so that he can have it with him," Elijah promised.

"We need to keep everything clean to keep him safe, so I'm sure you won't mind waiting while we do that."

"Oh, sure, just clean it..." the woman muttered under her breath as she left, shooting Eliah a disapproving glance.

"I know you're confused," Elijah said softly, watching Bug stare at Brayan.

"But you see now, don't you? We're doing everything we can to help him. It's okay if you don't understand all of this but you know he wouldn't have survived without our intervention."

Bug nodded numbly.

Whatever their ultimate intentions, he believed they had helped Brayan.

It was undeniable.

"I'll bring you some food. Mae will stay with you and make sure you don't touch anything you shouldn't."

Bug didn't bother to respond.

All he could do was stand there and stare at Brayan as one breath followed the next.

He was such a strong man but all it had taken was one accident to reduce him to this, one minor detour along fate's path.

Like he was nothing.

Or maybe like he was everything because fate's path had brought them here.

Not everyone was so fortunate.

Fate wasn't some beautiful force that gave everyone a happy ending.

Some people just hit their heads and then they died and that was the end of their story.

Bug crept closer to Brayan's bedside and his fingertips brushed the back of Brayan's left hand.

His skin felt cool and clammy, alive but not alive enough.

Bug swallowed wetly and blinked back tears.

How was this just some minor detour along fate's path?

How could it be so cruel?

And yet, life was, wasn't it?

He had always known this to be true, only at times deluding himself into believing he was somehow special, protected from misfortune.

Had that been Elijah's doing all along?

Shielding him from other potential fates until steering him to the cruel path he needed him to go down to bring him here?

'Why?'

What was worth all of that?

Bug's hand gently squeezed Brayan's fingers.

Perhaps this man was the answer.

Brayan wouldn't agree, he'd say no love was worth Bug's suffering.

Maybe that was true.

Given the choice to start over, to pick a path with its outcome known, he might choose differently but now, with the price already paid?

He wouldn't wish it all away.

He wanted to be here when Brayan's eyes finally opened.

Yet love wasn't the driving force behind these events.

Bug had few answers but he was certain of that.

If any of them truly mattered in this, it was Maric and the power his position gave him.

Despite all of the surprises this place had thrown at him, that was still what made the most sense.

You didn't involve a Prince in these matters for no reason.

Or maybe you did.

Maybe even a Prince was insignificant to the cold eyes of fate but Bug doubted that.

He knelt beside the bed, seeking comfort in Brayan's familiar scent, only to find it masked by something sharp and unfamiliar that made his nose wrinkle.

The door opened but Bug's gaze remained fixed on Brayan until something cool touched his arm.

Elijah was offering him a large metal cup filled with a thick, creamy liquid.

The unfamiliar substance had a pale, slightly off-white colour and a faint, sweet smell that Bug couldn't quite place.

"Drink this," Elijah said softly.

"It will help you regain your strength."

Bug eyed the strange liquid warily.

It resembled no food or drink he'd ever encountered.

The smooth consistency reminded him vaguely of milk but it was too thick and the color was off.

He took the cup gingerly, surprised by its weight and peered inside.

Tiny bubbles clung to the sides and the surface barely rippled as he moved it.

He took a careful sip.

The liquid was cool and smooth on his tongue, its thickness coating his mouth with a rich, slightly sweet flavour.

There were notes of something nutty, almost creamy, mixed with an undertone he couldn't quite place... not unpleasant but entirely unfamiliar.

Though he knew he should be hungry, the idea felt foreign in that moment, as if eating wasn't something his body was meant to do.

The drink sat heavily in his stomach but he forced himself to take another sip.

He couldn't afford to become the one starving himself.

"Where is Brayan's sword?" he asked Elijah.

Elijah's hand settled on his shoulder.

"They're determining how to clean it properly without damaging the metal or leather. They want to do what they can for you, just as they did for Brayan. Do you understand?"

Bug gave a small nod, though he wasn't sure he understood anything anymore.

"This is challenging for them, as doctors," Elijah continued.

"Nobody knows your story like I do but they know enough. They understand what it cost for you to get here and not all would have made the same decision I did. Most of us have lived here our whole lives. The kind of suffering you experienced is foreign to us. It's a stain on us all."

Bug looked up at Elijah.

"And you won't even tell me what it was for."

Elijah's smile was tinged with sadness.

"No. Not until you have that man's arms around you. Not until his hand can grip a sword. I've done many cruel things to you but this isn't one of them. It wouldn't be fair to burden you with this when you're alone and vulnerable."

Bug's gaze returned to Brayan.

He had never seen him sleep in a way that seemed so unrestful.

"When he finds out it was you, he might use that sword."

"I know," Elijah replied, his voice level.

Bug looked back up, curiosity in his eyes.

"But you see fate, don't you? You already know whether he will or won't."

Elijah shook his head.

"I don't. My fate here is a minor twist in the tale, just as Brayan hitting his head was. Once I've told you what you need to know, my life no longer matters in the grand scheme of things. I am at peace with that. We all are."

Bug glanced back at the other bed where he'd left Mae to see if she was as okay with this as Elijah suggested but she wasn't there anymore.

When had she left the room?

Everything felt distant and not fully real.

Elijah settled on the floor beside Bug, his posture unexpectedly relaxed.

"Take another sip."

Bug had forgotten he was supposed to be drinking, so he obeyed.

Elijah nodded, waited and then repeated the instruction.

Somehow, this simple guidance made it easier for Bug to focus on the task at hand, anchoring him as his mind threatened to spiral.

He needed to eat.

For now, that was all he needed to do, all he could do.

He managed only half before his body rebelled but Elijah seemed satisfied.

Bug moved to the edge of the other bed, fatigue already creeping in.

"Sleep," Elijah encouraged.

"He won't wake. We've given him medicine to ensure that. It's safer for his brain."

Bug shook his head stubbornly.

"Not until he has his sword."

Elijah pulled a metal chair between the beds and sat.

"I'll stay until they bring the sword. I won't leave."

"Promise to wake me when they bring it," Bug insisted.

"You went to check on Brayan before but I fell asleep and you never came back and told me how he was."

"That was because you needed to rest," Elijah told him.

"But there will be plenty of opportunities for it and maybe you need other things more. I will wake you."

Surprisingly, Bug found he believed him.

He lay down, curling on his side to watch Brayan breathe.

Even with his eyes closed, he could hear the hiss of the machine aiding Brayan's breathing and the steady chirping he'd come to associate with Brayan's heartbeat.

As exhaustion claimed him, Bug let the sounds merge into a strange lullaby, a constant reminder that Brayan was still alive.

That they were both alive, for now.

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the-wild-card-hand · 1 year ago

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//I know CoD can get written off a lot, but with the new universe I actually have a lot of theories and such on how things are done and how things crossover. I'm already putting together a small timeline of this Universe and how the games go. I'll put all of it under a read more if interested.

So the New Timeline I've figured out for main story goes CoD WWII, CoD World at War, CoD Vanguard, CoD Black Ops, CoD Black Ops Cold War, The Rumored Black Ops Gulf War, Modern Warfare (2019), Modern Warfare II (2022), and Modern Warfare III (2023).

The Dark Aether storyline in Vanguard already confirmed that there is some Overlap with the Chaos Storyline that was started in the beginning of Black Ops 4 before shifting to the Aether Saga once again where the Heroes end up nuking the already established Multiverse with a Singularity. I also think though its not confirmed, that also included things from other untethered Call of Duty games and previous Modern Warfares leading to the one 'Perfect' world. Or so those Zombie Heroes though, leading into the Dark Aether Storyline.

Now the Zombies and the Ghost Ship during Warzone around Black Ops Cold War Season 2, effectively taking place in the Modern Warfare timeframe. The ship leaving Rebirth Island back in the 80s to lose itself in a storm after some of the Nova Six gas gets out only to arrive around 2021, we can see that a lot of rust set in. A ship like that doesn't just get lost for decades without someone finding it so I think it must of gotten tugged into a Dark Aether breach, spending an untold amount of time there because we find a strange computer onboard the ship. Now reason why I mention the Dark Aether here and breaches is for two reasons: during Season Three Cold War a nuke gets detonated in Kravchenko's old facility on Mount Yamantau which we learn borders Kastova in this universe, and an intel you can recover from one of the factions that mention the dimensional fabric was damaged cause of a nuke that was detonated by a rogue faction called Perseus ((perpetrators being Wraith and Knight, two Operatives from that faction)) and around that time there was a storm off the coast, roughly around where the Gulag is.

Now how is Verdansk still standing after a nuke was dropped on it? Good question, considering everything I think this could end up being a retcon but a couple things stand out to me on how they could do it. Mauer Der Toten mentioned using a Nuclear Device to neutralize a Quarantine Zone in the middle of East and West Berlin, but we also were introduced to a Nuclear Bomb in Cold War that only targeted humanoids rather than leveling buildings and infrastructure. Could be that one of those types of nukes was dropped effectively sterilizing the infection while leaving the buildings intact for the most part, the fallout ending up being next to nothing because it canceled out both the gas an Aetherium in the air.

Now someone could ask, is it possible they could just strike it out of canon? Its entirely possible, if they didn't add that little detail into canon bio for Roze a Multiplayer Operator in Modern Warfare II specifically mentioning 'The Fall of Verdansk'.

Then we get to Vanguard, specifically when we hit the Warzone series on Caldera. It got slowly nutty when they introduced Attack on Titan things into Vanguard and I could kinda see and get it, then it got extremely batshit around Season Three when Kong and Godzilla were introduced onto Caldera, then the Terminator in Season Four, and then the return of Raul Menendez from Black Ops 2, Seraph from Black Ops 4, Gabriel Rorke from CoD Ghosts and Al-Asad. Al-Asad after Modern Warfare (2019) just drops off the radar and we don't hear from him but then in comes the other three and some could write it off as non-canon events there, but I'm starting to think Caldera was like something out of Twin Peaks, where it could of been an anomaly, where remnants of forgotten worlds found themselves after somehow finding a way out of the Dark Aether because the Perk Machines weren't something that was just made for the Dark Aether storyline, they were found and fixed up and brought into this new timeline, much like the Wunderwaffe DG-2 in Shi No Numa in Vanguard, now we see weapons like the EM1 from Advanced Warfare too. There are elements from previous timelines that get trickled into this new timeline and I think we're starting to see it slightly with the introduction of the Black Cell shadow faction because the operator 'Arthur' is straight up wearing a modified FTL Rig from Infinite Warfare.

That's not even getting to some of the leaks I've heard of content and things coming to Modern Warfare III, apparently around Season Three we could be seeing the return of the Atlas Corporation from Advanced Warfare, and I think with some of the cosmetics and gear we've seen in the shop during Modern Warfare II can set it up, some of them wearing Exo-Suits of similar design of the Atlas Corporation. Cause we have seen some call back to certain cosmetics that drop that come back later in the Warzone storyline part of Call of Duty: The Cultist looking skins for Ghost, Horangi, and Konig ended up being a shadow faction that unleashed Hellish forces in Al Mazrah and Vondel.

#outofcards #The Call of Duty Brainrot in keeping everything together and how it connects.

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sleidog · 2 years ago

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💖🍊🍇💗 for Slei!

@mystery-salad

💖 Has your OC ever been in love, be it romantic or platonic or otherwise? Who with and did they ever express their feelings or keep it private? How long did these feelings persist / do they still feel this way?

Slei struggles a bit with showing 'love' in a traditional sense. The only time he's been truly smitten by someone was with De, and De's lifestyle and work suits Slei perfectly! Essentially, Slei is awful at commitment, he hates being tied down (his first few months with the pact saw him sneaking off to escape the rigidity of expectations more than once, for example) so De being a sex worker and active dominant suits him just fine.

For a long time they didn't really publically announce their feelings for each other, although not due to any reason other than not wanting to make assumptions about the other. During path of fire this does change and they become a more official couple! To this day, they're still together and still very much in love, albeit in a slightly more casual way to avoid being too overbearing towards each other.

🍊 What is your OC’s favourite meal? Snack? Dessert? Drink? Any reasons behind this besides liking how it tastes?

(I know theres another part to thia but its a pain to go back and forth to paste it x) )

Slei loves foraging and hunting (mainly fishing) and his absolute favorite thing is white fish roasted over an open fire with wrapped root veggies also baking on the coals, its a meal he commonly makes with his best buddies (teo and treab) and he wouldn't have it any other way. He can also be persuaded with mild, sweet tasting fruits (mango, melon, etc)

He doesn't like overly processed food, especially meat, i've mentioned it before, but unless he hunted it, he is very unlikely to accept meat to eat and will lean vegetarian.

🍇 Day or Night? Sun or Rain? Summer or Winter?

Day, sun and summer! Slei is a tropical boy, he likes it bright and warm. He feels alow and groggy in the cold and generally will complain a l o t

💗 What would your OC say is their best feature? Why? What do their friends / family / lover(s) / people they know think is their best feature and why?

He would claim it's his body, he has a muscular working build and he knows how to use it and how to look after it. He's tall, imposing and doesn't at all use that for intimidation unless absolutely needed.

Hia friends would say his hair or eyes, his hair is down to his waist by the end of EOD and somehow manages to be totally wild but still out of the way and well kept at the same time. His eyes are also very striking, bright blue with a nutty brown iris thats small by comparison to the rest of his eye. This sometimes leads into the intimidation factor quite by accident as well

#slei #ocs #worldbuilding #thanks for the ask!

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dualnaturedscientist · 10 months ago

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"You got my attention. Now make it fast before my family comes out." Corbin knew that Matthew would immediately take the bait he threw out. Looking at him like a cat would to a mouse who's cornered. "Do you believe in the supernatural, Matty? Ghosts, ghouls and demons. All that fun stuff." The former villain looked hesitant about answering. "Maybe. Where are you going with this?" Corbin shook his head. "Tsk, tsk. Good things come to those who wait. I can't freely speak of the answers you seek in such a public setting. As eccentric as these folks are, they would even give me a strange look if I revealed my true nature here. Though I am glad you are not so close minded as most are. It would make things so much easier to explain to you." Matthew was honestly starting to lose patience with this man. Dangling information he wanted only to snatch it away. Toying with him just for the laughs. Corbin seemed to sense things, only tilting his head to the side. "You're a bit of the impatient type, aren't you? Funny. Since you waited twenty years in prison to break out. Ever since our first encounter I couldn't help but be fascinated with what you've accomplished. The suffering you've caused, absolutely delicious. Though it seems you've grown soft. Now that's disappointing to learn. But hey. Everyone has their flaws, am I right?" Before he could respond in anger, Corbin had seemingly pulled out a business card out of thin air. Placing it in Matthew's hand. "For when you want to know more about your power's origin. Call me and we'll have that private chat you want so much. Now if you'll excuse me I've got to head out. I've got a busy schedule." With that said, Corbin made his way down the sidewalk. Leaving a confused Matthew. This encounter raised even more questions than it actually answered. He sighed in defeat, tucking the business card away in his pocket for later. He's just been getting the nutty people's business cards lately. It still perplexed the man on how his supposed father managed to stay young all this time. Deciding to keep waiting out there for both Carl and Gene. Unaware of the alarming information Carl had learned. Somewhere else in the city, Doohickey had felt a chill go down his spine. Visibly shivering. This caused Professor Tubing to look at him with concern. Doohickey was keeping the other company while he was working on some project. "What's the matter?" Doohickey frowned. "I feel like my safety has been threatened somehow." Tubing gave it some thought. "Well. You are dating Gene's sister. With how protective he is." Doohickey didn't like the sound of that. "Yet I don't remember doing anything that would cause her any distress." Tubing went back to writing down notes for the project. "Unless you've gotten Emily pregnant or something, I think you'll be fine." It wasn't until twenty minutes later that Doohickey's phone began to ring. Picking it up without thought, he answered it. “Hello?” Tubing mostly ignored it. Having been used to the chaotic environment they used to work in when they all were still working together. “Oh! Emily, what is it that you want to tell me?” Though that caught the other scientist's attention. Glancing back at Doohickey, he noticed that he looked overjoyed at whatever news that she told him. Though it didn't last long until there was a look of realization in his expression. Doohickey's face became pale. “There's no words that can describe how happy I am to hear this. Though does he-” He went silent as Emily filled him in on who knows. Making Doohickey look all the more frightened by the second. “Alright, I'll see you at home. I love you too, bye darling.” With that said, he hung up. Now looking at Tubing with a terrified expression. Disbelief of what his friend predicted earlier. “Well it was nice knowing you, old friend. I will always cherish our time together.” It took Tubing a moment to realize that he was correct. As well as to why Doohickey felt what he did earlier. He certainly didn't envy him with how protective Gene was. “Congratulations.” Placing a hand on his friend's arm.

Heart of chaos

A year had passed since the B.E.A.W Labs organization had fallen. Since all the events had taken place. Becky being taken along with Bob. The poor girl being experimented on by a cruel scientist who had no love for anyone but himself. Matthew had broken out of the facility with her, Carl and Steven. Gene's true identity being revealed along with losing his Dr.Two-Brains persona. Shocking revelations unfolded. Betrayals and redemption. Things had calmed down significantly since but that didn't mean life had been dull. It certainly wasn't for Fair City. Especially with the villains, heroes and its eccentric inhabitants livening up the city. Becky had been making a wonderful recovery. Though she still wasn't at her full recovery Becky was still making so much more progress than the year prior. Gene still had identity issues, dealing with the loss of Squeaky. Though he didn't go through it alone. The still mad scientist had his family and friends help him through everything. Matthew and Carl took up residency within the city. A house that wasn't too far from their sons. Life in this place was definitely lively and peaceful in comparison to the hellish place many innocent souls were imprisoned in. Matthew was less exhausted than before. Relaxing within the living room in his son's house, watching whatever was put on the television. Matthew felt his eyes beginning to droop. Sleepiness hitting him out of nowhere. He simply allowed himself to doze off, not fighting it. Knowing that he was safe there. It wasn't until he felt weight on him that Matthew opened his eyes. Usually a dog or cat would be the cause for this but Matthew met many eyes. Fluffy had snuck into the house yet again. A small warm smile spread across his facial features, patting the spider on its head. Fluffy leaned into Matthew's hand, making soft happy noises. It was funnily cute to him. Though he understood as to why Gene was so afraid of him. Even Carl was squeamish around the giant spider. “Aw, who's a good boy? You are! You're a good boy!” Matthew couldn't help but baby talk the arachnid. He looked up, wriggling his chelicerae in response. As to say ‘Me! I'm a good boy!’ He chuckled at that, giving Fluffy gentle scritches. It was like a huge puppy in a spider's body. Though the peacefulness was interrupted by a sudden shout. “NO! WHY IS IT HERE AGAIN?!” Gene was in the doorway of the living room. Looking quite terrified at the huge arachnid. Fluffy instantly moved around on Matthew's lap to look at Gene. Excitedly jumping off of the supervillain's lap in favor of his son. He bolted right for the mad scientist, causing him to yelp loudly and make a run for it. “SOMEONE KEEP THAT ABOMINATION AWAY FROM ME!” Matthew gave a small laugh. “Can't help but feel abit rejected there.” Archie, who was quiet until then, responded. “I know that feeling.” This caused Matthew to jump up startled. “Don't do that! I'm old. Also I could accidentally blast you.” Archie blinked in confusion. “You didn't notice me? I came in with Fluffy. He got loose and snuck into the house. I just came to bring him back before he got to Gene. Too late for that now.” Archie frowned. “I can't help but be jealous at how much Fluffy loves him. Though Gene is terrified of him. That spider just won't listen to me when it comes to his favorite person.” He shook his head disapprovingly. “You want me to help you?” Matthew was being genuine with his question. He didn't want his son dying of fright from the giant arachnid. “That would be greatly appreciated. I have to take him back home. He can't avoid taking his medication this time.” Matthew got up, stretching first before doing anything else. This earned him a strange look from Archie. “What? I said I'm old. If I don't stretch I'll pull a muscle.” The hero shrugged. “Let's go get him soon. I have to look after Charlotte as well.” Archie always had the brightest smile when Charlotte was brought up. Either by him, Sunshine or anyone else. It was sweet. “Alright, alright.” They were completely unaware of an enemy observing them. Waiting.

Miss Power growled in frustration at the display she was witnessing through a window to the Boxleitner or rather the Woods household. A display she thought was very disgusting. How badly the alien conqueror wanted to charge right in their and obliterate everyone in her sights. She couldn't do her usual tactics and tricks right now, not after what she learned after coming back. She was still ticked off after that little alien brat Wordgirl and her parents dupe and tricked her into leaving the planet in defeat. There was no way she could go back to her planet and face her people with such a shameful stain to her otherwise brilliant record. Fueled by revenge and hatred, Miss Power spent her time preparing, training, and waiting so she could exact her revenge against those who wronged her, against the little hybrid girl and her freak of a family that humiliated her. Sadly when Miss Power and her loyal sidekick Colonel Gigglecheeks did decide to return, they were not prepared for the recent changes that had happeend in their absence. Miss Power did not care much for this Darius person or B.E.A.W labs, she had seen those like them a dime a dozen before on other worlds. The alien wished she could have congratulated the person who tortured and dehumanized Wordgirl and her sidekick. If it was up to her, Professor Ross Moran would receive high honors among her people for his actions. She did give her condolences at his unmarked gravestone. While the recent trauma Wordgirl and her sidekick have suffered gave Miss Power an opportunistic advantage, the alien conquerer unfortunately could not risk using it especially with her grandfather around. Miss Power was amazed at hearing about the past and recent exploits of Maddrix the Malicious. She was shocked that someone so bloodthirsty and powerful was the father of that scientist who used to have a mouse brain attached to his skull as well as a weird cheese obsession. To her disappointment, Miss Power could clearly see the man was too human and had regretted his actions in the past. Actions that would have made him highly respected among her people despite him being human. Still Miss Power wasn't going to risk striking back while that old coot was still alive. Age did not always equate to weakness according to what she had been taught. Even though he was old, Maddrix was clearly still powerful. It was likely that her and Gigglecheeks would wind up dead by the man's hands before they could claim revenge and victory. A chittering sound snapped Miss Power out of her musings. She turned her head to see her sidekick give her a concerned look. He chittered again and asked 'So what are we going to do?' Miss Power smiled and scratched her sidekick's head which he enjoyed. "Don't worry Colonel Gigglecheeks. We'll get our revenge soon. We just need to learn more about Mr. Malicious and what weaknesses he might have so we can use it to defeat him." Miss Power cooed. She then took her sidekick and flew off without anyone being the wiser. Miss Power was brash and bold and could be tricked sometimes, but she was no fool. The alien conqueror learned long ago that the best way to win your battles was to be prepared and know your enemy more than they know themselves. Carl sighed with relief and slight exhaustion as he sat down in a comfy chair. He had just finished sweeping the floor of his and Matthew's home. Now all he had to do was sit and relax until his husband got home. Carl wanted to try a nice 'mom and pop' owned restaurant that one of Gene's friends, Chuck, had recommended to the man. Carl had been itching to get out and do something more and more recently. If he had to be honest, he was getting bored. In the past, Carl had his job and work as a scientist to keep him occupied along with spending time with his husband and kids. Unfortunately after his 20 year imprisonment, Carl couldn't step in another official science lab ever again without a severe anxiety and panic attack @dualnaturedscientist

#the bit with Doohickey and Tubing is a joke ninja and i had #ninja came up with the dialogue for the joke #ahahaha

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alstroemeriadissonance · 2 years ago

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Cream Pie (NSFW)

It's been a while since I've last posted. Was too busy with October thing, then had to deal with something personal.

Wrote some oneshot to fill the void for now, I hope it's good enough

This is mostly smut n' fluff.

I also have an ongoing series in my AO3 that I haven't posted here yet. If you're interested, you can give it a read here.

Your hands tremble slightly when you push the door open that leads to warmth, and a little bit of shared happiness. The light at the end of the tunnel. The motivation that gets you through the day, despite the battle scars of paper cuts and criticisms during merciless nine to fives.

Just yet another terrible day at the office.

"Beloved, welcome ho—"

The way he quickly sets aside the whisk and bowl, how quickly he closes the distance to gather you into his arms clues you in just how tired, how worn out you look that evening. Do I really look so exhausted? You wonder as you feel his hands slide up from your back, his touch cool yet refreshing, like a chilled beverage in sweltering heat, and you can only moan as his fingertips ghost your cheeks.

Wordlessly he cups your face in his palms, his eyes lingering on yours before he pulls you in for a deep, soothing kiss—something that you didn't know you needed until that very moment.

You drink his kisses so hungrily that you don't notice him taking your things—your handbag, your briefcase—and placing them by your feet, all without his lips and tongue leaving your mouth.

"Welcome home, love," he whispers directly into your ear. Nourishing honey, down your ears and flowing directly into your heart.

"Oh god, Vyn, I really, really needed that." You pull away from the embrace, feeling much better than how you did when you passed through his door. Still, the weariness in your bones remains, and so you take comfort by leaning against him, your face buried in his chest. "Thank you."

And you notice only now, that he smells of pastry . The almost nutty scent of crumbly pie crust, buttery touched with just a hint of lemon, just the way you like it. Then the tinge of sweet fruit. Peaches? Apricot? You nuzzle his neck, audibly sniffing him trying to discover what kind of sweet treat your lover has in store for you.

"Darling?" Vyn laughs softly, somehow tickled by the touch of the tip of your nose on the crook of his neck. "I thought you were tired," he quips. "We are still by the door, if you have not noticed it yet."

A little bit of heat emanates from his ear as he speaks, and he clears his throat.

Seeing the tips of his ears go slightly red you move to tease him more, only to be interrupted by the all-too loud rumbling of your stomach.

You haven't eaten anything yet since breakfast, something you find easy to forget these days when there's so much work to be done.

Strong, yet gentle hands steer you away from the door and towards the kitchen. "Someone is clearly famished," Vyn says as he deposits your bags into a sofa on the way to the source of the delectable smell wafting into the entire house.

"That smells so good," you note with a smile. "What's baking?"

A ghost of a mischievous smile crosses your lover's lips. "Peaches and cream pie."

===

You take your seat by the counter, quietly watching Vyn as he dons his oven mitts to take out the pie from the oven. "I can't believe you're really wearing that apron I made for you." Your lips curve into a small, tired smile; the cutesy snowy owl appliqué you clumsily sewed onto the pockets was more of a joke than anything else, but here he is, wearing it proudly as he rules over his domestic domain.

You stifle a silent yawn, and allow yourself to close your eyes. Just a little rest…

"And why should I not wear it?" He asks as he carefully pulls out the rack bearing the pie, sticking a toothpick into the crust for doneness. "It is a most treasured gift, one that you made by hand…hmm. Not quite done yet." He carefully rotates the pie a half turn over the rack, then sets it back into the oven.

When he turns to you to continue the conversation, he sees you nodding off, your face almost landing squarely onto the countertop—if it weren't for his quick reflexes, cushioning your head with his hand still wearing the oven mitt before it can make contact with granite.

Vyn shakes his head, frowning slightly as he moves to carry you to the bedroom. "Did your slave driver overwork you again?" He murmurs, not expecting an answer from you; he already knows the answer, anyway.

You're already in a bridal carry when you float back to wakefulness. "Vyn?" You stir in his arms, slightly disoriented. "What…?" In that brief moment you do not know what is happening, where you are going, and—thoroughly confused, now—your attention flits to the scent that lingers all over him. A delicious mixture of vanilla, peach, roses, and wood.

"You need sleep, darling," he whispers as he is about to take the first step up the staircase. "I am just taking you to bed—ah—"

Impulsively you tug at the straps of his apron, pulling him down for a kiss, effectively stopping him in his tracks. "No, I want to spend more time with you, Vyn," you protest, and this time you throw your arms around his neck to indulge in another embrace.

"I am not leaving, pet," Vyn assures you as he pulls away. "I will be with you when you sleep, and if you wake up in the middle of the night feeling peckish I will get up with you and we can eat together." A small kiss on the forehead. "Is that acceptable for my lady love?"

You frown.

No. I did not work hard and do my best to get home on time only to sleep. "It's not the same, Vyn." Mind still fogged with sleep, you find yourself suddenly irritable. "I didn't go through hell just so I go to sleep then wake up to go back to crunch time again." You push yourself out of his carry. "I want to spend more time with you!"

"While I am flattered that you would rather run your body to the ground to spend time with me…" Vyn crosses his arms, his face going pensive. "I certainly do not condone sacrificing your health, which is why I am offering compromises, like accompanying you in bed as you rest."

Still irritable, you find yourself wanting to cry in frustration. Why must plans go wrong even if you did your best? "But—but…"

Words having left you, your lower lip trembles as you teeter to the verge of tears.

Seeing you in such a state, Vyn could only sigh and shake his head. "Very well then. If you insist, we can carry on with our dinner plans…but on one condition."

"Eh?"

Vyn looks at you, contemplatively, as if assessing you for something. "I am proposing a game of sorts, poppet. Well, more like a punishment ." He smiles mysteriously, tapping his chin with a finger. "A punishment for the disobedient patient who does not heed her doctor's orders."

"I really don't feel like playing games, Vyn," you say, too upset to catch the hint he is trying to give you. "If you're trying to get a point across, can't you just tell me upfront?" You cross your arms as well, glaring into his unreadable golden eyes head-on.

"Why not try to listen to the terms before you dismiss the idea?" The smile is still plastered on his face, and you remember that it is the very same smile he wears when he is up to something .

The thought sobers you up. "Fine. Let's hear it then."

Vyn lets out a quiet, low chuckle as he takes you by the hand, leading you back towards the kitchen. "It is a simple game," he casually says, reaching for the opened can of peaches sitting by the edge of the counter. He carefully prises open the lid to reveal the can still half-full with slices of white peaches in light syrup; using a fork he fishes out a thick wedge of fleshy fruit, still dripping with syrup. "Ah, I was saving this for grilled peaches," he murmured. "But this would be worth it, I assure you."

"Peaches?" you tilt your head as you peer at Vyn curiously, mind now cleared of sleep and irrational frustration, your sour mood edged out by curiosity. "What are we going to do?"

"First, sit down on the stool, your back towards the counter, if you please," he instructs you. When you finally comply, he brings the wedge of sliced fruit to your lips, but not close enough to feed it to you, not yet. "The game, Rosa," he begins, his voice now noticeably lower and somehow enticing , "is you bite onto this with your lips, and not let go, nor eat it. The fruit should remain intact. All the while I do…certain things."

You gulp nervously at the mention of certain things .

"If you win," he continues, leaning in closer to you, close enough that you feel his warm breath fanning your cheeks. "We shall have dinner, and you can ask me for a favor. Whatever it is, I shall try my best to deliver."

"And if I lose?" You try your hardest to look undaunted, looking at him straight in the eye; but your heart is beating too fast and too loud you almost think he can hear it and give away how excited you are.

"Then you shall follow your doctor's orders, and stay with me in bed. Tonight, and," his grin spreads a little wider. "You will also spend the entire weekend with me. In my bedroom, to be specific. Plenty of bedrest, plenty of exercise . That way you will be right as rain come Monday."

You gasp a little. While the prospect sounds totally tempting, you already made plans. " This weekend? No…I already made plans with Kiki…" And I have pushed it back so many times now, because of all the overtime we needed to do…

Vyn's grin quickly fades, and is replaced with a small frown. "Ah, so despite how tired you are this entire week you are still planning to be up and about this weekend? You are incorrigible when it comes to taking care of your wellbeing. Your doctor is disappointed with you."

He pouts. Almost.

"Er…" Coming up with a retort is hard, not when you are torn between both outcomes. A fun weekend with your girl friend? Or what sounds to be a weekend sex marathon with your boyfriend? Good grief. "You drive a hard bargain, Vyn," is all you can say.

"Need I point out that this is a game of determination," Vyn says, as he finally brings the peach wedge to your mouth, the fruit dripping syrup onto your skirt and the front of your blouse. "If you are so intent on making your appointment with Miss Kiki, then you need to be determined to win . Do you understand, poppet?"

The fruit is more fragile than you expected; almost mushy, and you know it will easily fall apart should your lips clamp down on it even a little bit harder than you are doing at the moment. Sweet peach-infused syrup drips down your chin, and the fruit in your mouth makes you salivate—any moment now and you know you will start drooling as well.

You try your best to keep the fruit intact between your lips anyway.

Most of your focus is devoted to keeping the delicate fruit between your lips without biting into it, so much that you don't notice Vyn kneeling in front of your thighs, pushing the hem of your skirt up to reveal where your stockings end—and that creamy expanse of naked thighs above it. His hands slide over the soft skin, thumbs just almost touching the crotch of your panties and the gradually moistening mound underneath the cotton.

Vyn laughs quietly, then gives your covered slit a lick.

"Mmmph—!" your lips almost let go of the peach wedge, but you manage to catch yourself. Oh god. This is not good. You might have saved the peach from falling, but there is a danger of overcompensating and biting into the fruit, breaking it, resulting in an instant loss.

He now tugs your panties down to your ankle, and spreads your thighs a little wider. "Do you not think this is quite the silver lining to your fatigue, pet?" His breath teases your moist cunt as he speaks, making you cream hard . "I am certainly enjoying myself." Once again he leans down to your inner thighs, his tongue-tip making circles around your clit but never touching your sensitive bud, sending you whimpering in frustration. Your hips squirm in an attempt to have your clit be relieved of the sweet torture, but Vyn tut-tuts you and stills your hips with his strong hands.

"Stop moving around so much, pet, or else the fruit will break, or drop," he says before finally giving your stiff bud a good, long suck. You manage to let out a moan despite your lips being preoccupied with the fruit, and your whole body shudders as you fully give in to the pleasure from between your legs. "See? Even I play fair." Vyn chuckles in between licks along your now swollen cunt.

"Listen to your doctor, my darling," he whispers, his words slow and measured; voice dripping with dark caramel. "I only want what is good for you."

The effect on you is instantaneous. You screw your eyes shut, desperately trying to concentrate on keeping the peach between your mouth in one piece, even as you are now of half a mind to throw the game and just give in to temptation. Damn it, I'm set up to fail , you realize, and you are now acutely aware of how much you are a mess at the moment: your mouth dripping with peach syrup mixed in with your drool, and your thighs opened as wide as you can over the stool you're sitting on, to receive the man pushing you to lose the game with his tongue…

…and his fingers, two of them slipping inside your pussy, thrusting deep in time with the flicks of his tongue on your clit. "Still not yielding, little pet?" He asks, looking up at your face from between your thighs as he keeps on driving his digits inside your core. "There is grace in conceding from a battle you know you cannot win."

Your eyes are still shut, but you very well know from the tone of his voice that he is smirking at you. Cheeky bastard . You would retort, if it were not for the rules of the game and the fact that you feel the familiar coil of tension winding, and is almost about to break…

"Mm?" Vyn smiles at you, softly this time, warm and inviting. "I can feel you about to come," he says with his lips on your labia; his thumbs casually stroking your inner thighs now tense with imminent release. "Let go, pet. "

Once again he takes your bud between his lips, taking his time to tease and suck on it, with occasional flicks of his tongue until he pushes you off the edge.

"...Aaah, Vyn!" In the end you are not able to resist; your teeth finally bite into the fruit, sending one half rolling down only to be caught by Vyn's free hand. He eats the piece of juicy fruit in one bite, savoring its sweet flavor as his other hand keeps on fucking you with two fingers, all the while your entire body shudders in the throes of orgasm.

"Delicious," he says as he closely watches you cum all over his hand, licking his fingers clean of peach syrup all the while.

"I promised her weeks ago we'd go to the new ice cream parlor and check out the shops down the arcade," you whisper as you sit up and try to gather yourself. "Then it got pushed to the next week, then this weekend…" you sigh at the thought of having to prepare and face Kiki's disappointment.

"I will bake her favorite black forest to make up for it," Vyn reassures you as he stands, holding out his hand towards you to help you up. " Extra cherries. I will—ah!"

"Don't think I'd let you get away untouched, Dr. Richter ," you mutter as you pull him down by his proffered hand, tackling him down to the tiled kitchen floor and straddling his legs. Your fingers quickly pull down the garter of his lounge pants, pushing aside the apron to gain access to his neglected hard on. "God I'm still horny." Your hand slips into his underwear, freeing his cock from its confines.

"Rosa, I was going to carry you to bed so we can continue—ah, damn!" Vyn hisses out loud as soon as you lower your throbbing sex, enveloping the glans with your nether lips. "Hahh—yes, that is good ," he moans out loud, his hands on your waist but letting you lead the pace of your lovemaking.

Each slow, deliberate movement of your hips runs the entire length of his cock; drawing back until only his tip is inside you, then thrusting forward until both hips meet. Your lusty sighs mingle with his needy own—were you tired earlier? If you were, you have already forgotten all about it—and eventually the pace picks up with Vyn leading this time, fully giving into his own hunger resulting from patiently holding himself back and waiting until you are well enough to receive his desire for you.

He drives into your inner flesh in hard, deep thrusts, drawing out moans, sighs, and whimpers from you—you even question yourself why you would resist the idea of a weekend spent with him in bed, this is all so fucking good —until he reaches his own climax, his cock pulsating as he fills you with his cum.

"Hahh—hah—hahaha," Vyn laughs weakly, pulling you down into his arms, both of you lying down on the once cool tiled floor now slightly warmed by your bodies. "That was…that felt good, darling. I think we both needed it."

"Mm. Yeah." You nuzzle his neck, relishing his scent now mixed with his musk, and the thick aroma of sex. "That was nice. Okay, you win. We'll spend the weekend in your bedroom." You try to stifle a yawn, only to fail spectacularly. "I want…more…" Then you remember something. "Um? Vyn? The pie?"

"What about the pie?" Vyn peels himself off the floor and stands up, helping you up along with him. "Do not worry about it. I have set the timer, and even if it is ruined…" His voice trails off.

He looks at you, a tad suggestively. "I filled another pie just now."

You make a moue. "Ugh, Vyn. That's too low-effort."

"Heh."

#tears of themis fanfic #tears of themis #vyn richter x reader #vyn richter #vyn richter smut

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thewriterowl · 3 years ago

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Hello miss Owl, with the messed up things happening in the dinluke tag, can I ask for fluffy dinluke headcanons? pretty please

Oh hi! I'm sorry things are getting a bit rough. But I am happy to provide! I haven't done these in a bit (and to others who are waiting for their own responses, I promise they are coming!)

Let's see...some of these may be repeats but hopefully some things are new!

-Din used to be very indifferent to sweets. Luke is a sweet-a-holic. Guess who now is munching on cookies at 3AM with his husband, chatting about needing to get the nutty kind next and how to best hide them from an always-starving, Force-sensitive toddler. You'd think Luke, with his Force, would somehow find the best hiding spots for the snacks; nope. It's Din. When Din and Luke wanna ensure they can hide away in a cupboard to munch on space m&ms, Din is the one who can keep them safe.

-Both Din and Luke have some insecurities and doubts about being a parent. They worry their mistakes will negatively affect Grogu. But both will always talk each other out of it and go over it in detail to help the other feel better and understand what happened and that they are different people now who has learned a lot.

-Luke learns to clean Din's armor. The three of them will sit around, sometimes chatting and sometimes in comfortable silence, as they polish and tend to the Beskar armor.

-Paz and Boba are the vodka-aunts. They come over often to cause mayhem and trouble. At first, Din was not very involved. Some part was he was shy some part was that he didn't really know how to cut loose and enjoy being goofy. His make-shift family really helps him open up.

-Boba once tried to make Luke jealous by smooching up against Din. Luke just grinned and said, "That's hot." But he also said he is up for fighting for Din's hand at any time. Boba and Paz loved this and offered to spar any time as well. Din was an uncomfortable blushing mess.

-When Din and Luke meet, both are potentially in really sharp shape. As time goes on and they find themselves becoming more comfortable with each other and their less dangerous/hectic lives they start to live a bit and soften up. both are healthy warriors but neither have a six pack (if they ever did). They still have muscles in their arms, shoulders, back, and legs...but are getting a bit squishy in the tummy and both find they are very happy with this.

-Din is ticklish. He'd forgotten about it after the loss of his parents. Now his son and husband have discovered it and are not about to let it go. Poor guy gets tackled often to get dragged into a tickle fight that leaves him laughing hard.

-To not be pure "cutesy" because we are all humans and have bodily functions...Luke farts first. no doubt in my mind. With how he is raised? Being in the rebellion? All his near-death? Dude doesn't care. He may feel slightly embarrassed the first time but then is just, "There is no way Din, who I know has gone a week or two without showering to conserve water on his old ship is going to care." It leaves them both laughing

-Luke is also so the kind who would get "Din's first fart cake". Din will try to smash Luke's face in it, much to Luke's enjoyment.

-A favorite HC of mine is that due to them being so close (twiiiiins) and powerful and Luke being a hella empath...when Leia gets the period, Luke feels it. He suffers from it. He is holding his stomach, sending mental images to his sister across the galaxy also suffering that he wished she was a boy. She just sends him a mental version of the middle-finger back. Din takes care of him with that and helps soothe his pain.

-Neither like tea (Obi-Wan is rolling in his non-existent grave) but Luke loves to grow the stuff to make it. He's trying to find a brew they like so that Din would stop sucking down caf and Luke would stop gulping down hot chocolate. it is a process they are loving to do together...even if they always spit out what they make almost instantly.

-They switch being big spoon and little spoon. But Luke loves being the big spoon. Din has heard him making the "bzzzzz" noises, pretending to be a jetpack before. He has yet to call him out on it.

#dinluke #fluff #floof #owl inbox

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thatjadedhotmess · 3 years ago

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coffee shop orders hcs !

characters: lisa, fischl, beidou, keqing, kujou sara, raiden shogun (ei) and yae miko

warnings⚠️: some spoilers from the inazuma archon quest, other characters briefly mentioned (jean, bennett, ningguang, itto), its just fluffy yesyes wkgnskmfks also not proofread snfjsmfksm

note: I couldn't think of anything to write but I some how came up with this bs but I do hope you enjoy it since it was pretty rushed >.< (also i had no idea how to write for razor so i didn't write 1 for him but if i do think of something ill add it in TvT)

lisa (麗莎)

☁︎︎ would probably get tea I don't she looks like the type to enjoy coffee

☁︎︎ im thinking rooibos tea or butterfly pea tea

☁︎︎ rooibos tea has a nutty taste to it and is naturally sweet even without sugar so it's super refreshing while butterfly pea tea as a more woody and earthy aroma to it

☁︎︎ would occasionally order a scone to go with it if she was bored and didn't wanna go back to the library

☁︎︎ lisa would occasionally get calls from Jean asking if she could come down to the coffee shop to keep her company while she finishes up paperwork

☁︎︎ gets tea to drinking but eventually falls asleep on the table while wait for Jean to finish up

fischl (菲謝爾)

☁︎︎ she. she would order something instagram worthy and post it on her story you cannot tell me otherwise

☁︎︎ so like cotton candy frappuccino or that pink drink from starbucks that trended awhile back

☁︎︎ has a instagram highlights section just for the drinks

☁︎︎ she might just pull Bennett along to get him to try 1 of the drinks

☁︎︎ *ben spilling his drink and slipping on it and bringing fischl down with him because he grabbed her arm for support but still fell

☁︎︎ it's also always on the hunt for new coffee shops to try different drinks

beidou (北斗)

☁︎︎ im pretty sure we all know about how beidou just loves alcohol

☁︎︎ her coffee has alcohol yes that's what I'm trying to say

☁︎︎ she's probably willing to try anything new drink that has alcohol in it but her go to would be a classic Irish coffee or maybe a pharisee (Black coffee, double shot of rum and whipped cream to top)

☁︎︎ if she couldn't get that I'd say her next option would a cold brew or an espresso shot

☁︎︎ but if she was free on that day I think she would get something for ningguang to drink and hand deliver it to hot because she knows that ningguang is busy

☁︎︎ but also because she has a soft spot for her ahaha

☁︎︎ ningguang simp gang <33

keqing (刻晴)

☁︎︎ black coffee or caffè au lait

☁︎︎ because she's classy but also because she's a workaholic

☁︎︎ I do feel like the only reason reason she does drink it is to keep herself awake while she does her paperwork

☁︎︎ she also would probably only go to 1 specific coffee shop, somewhere near where she works and also somewhere she knows serve good coffee

☁︎︎ she would sit at the coffee shop earbuds plugged in after she orders her usual and just work and work and work.

☁︎︎ the barista definitely knows her usual because of how often she comes through the shop's doors, sometimes even make small talk with keqing or throw in a pastry item, saying something along the lines of, "it's on the house, since your 1 of our regulars."

kujou sara (九条裟羅)

☁︎︎ a double or occasionally triple espresso shot

☁︎︎ something she can drink fast and since she also doesn't enjoy sweet stuff I feel like this makes the most sense

☁︎︎ another thing I wanna add is that she kind of gives off barista vibes to me like I have no idea why but maybe it's my 2am brain thinking but she just, gives off barista vibes yes

☁︎︎ barista!sara (not barista anymore) would literally go nuts over her espresso if it didn't taste right

☁︎︎ *ahem itto messing up her order because he's new and because the barista thats regularly at the counter to serve her isn't there

☁︎︎ IMAGINE IF HER AND ITTO LIKE MET AT A COFFEE SHOP SKFSKSWKFNWLMKSMF

☁︎︎ LIKE SARA AND ITTO MEET BECAUSE ITTO SOMEHOW SCREW UP HER ORDER SO BAD SHE WAS SCREAMING AT HIM IN THE MIDDLE OF THE COFFEE SHOP- SKFNSMFMS SCREAMING

raiden shogun (雷電將軍)

☁︎︎ mmm this 1 was hard but I think she would get a mocha

☁︎︎ the first time she actually goes in a coffee shop (yae brought her), she doesn't even know what coffee is because of how long she meditated in the Plane of Euthymia

☁︎︎ was so mesmerised by everything they sold and had in the coffee shop. from the coffee machine to the pastry selection to just watching people chatting and conversing around her.

☁︎︎ though I feel like her first drink would be a caramel frappuccino since yae didn't really know what to get aside from something sweet

☁︎︎ afterwards ei comes back on her own to the coffeeshop to try out what they have and finds out that she really enjoys iced mocha

☁︎︎ the staff at the cafe are so nice, always recommending her new things to try and giving her discounts or letting her try a pastry (you could say they have a soft spot for her because she seemed so cold at first but actually wasn't that bad) (cough cough also because she's so pretty-)

☁︎︎ has tried to make a mocha herself at home but failed miserably (mhm mhmm TvT)

yae miko (八重神子)

☁︎︎ yeahh I was deciding who (ei or yae) to give it to but I think that yae miko would get the affogato

☁︎︎ she's just classy like that

☁︎︎ walking into a cafe at peak hour and somehow getting a table before ordering an affogato and maybe some food and starting work

☁︎︎ im sorry I just imagine the number of people there that would just start smiling over her. she's literally so charming like- skfnskfnks<3333 (and to me her presence is also really strong)

☁︎︎ gaslight. gatekeep. girlboss i guess🤷‍♀️

☁︎︎ if she brought ei along with her that day I feel like she would just go mom mode

☁︎︎ IMAGINE HER AND A LITTLE CHILD EI-

this was actually kinda fun to write ngl TvT

reblogs are greatly appreciated ! :)<3

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin hcs #lisa minci #fischl #razor #beidou #keqing #kujou sara #raiden shogun #ei #yae miko #ittosara #itto x sara #beidou x ningguang #beiguang #fischl x bennett #jean x lisa #sage🍂 scribbles

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wanderlust-songbird · 3 years ago

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"Hey want a cake pop?" She asked not telling them it was actually frosted coated Brussel sprouts. (One for each!)

"Ahh... I guess one couldn't hurt."

He simply took a cake pop without a word. He would've felt bad if he refused.

"Well, I do need the energy somehow..." She didn't hesitate to take a bite of the "treat" as she took one herself. But she didn't give any sort of reaction to it other than a smile as she chewed.

Obviously not seeing that something was wrong, Dorian & Corvallis would each take a bite of their respective cake pops immediately after her. But as they chewed...

"........."

"........"

Loud retching suddenly erupted from Dorian as the brussel sprout's sharp, bitter flavor finally had the chance to settle on his tongue. His hand covering his mouth in order to avoid throwing up.

"Are... Are you alright...?!" Corvallis had barely managed to keep the bit he ate down as he asked. But all Dorian could do was nod aggressively at that moment to him.

Both men simply turned to Vega who was still eating the abomination of a treat, even seeing her finishing it. Their stares simply confused her upon her seeing their wide eyes.

"What? I honestly thought that it had quite a mellow & nutty flavor. The sweetness did make it more interesting."

Corvallis was just at an utter loss of words now... Mainly out of fear while Dorian remained struggling to keep what he managed to eat down.

#//thank you for the ask!!#Your Many Concerns Are Heeded | Asks #pkmnsdarkqueen #//Had to limit between these three

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kittystargen3 · 3 years ago

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https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13876994/1/Time-Travel-To-the-Past-Yoda-Goes

Summary: A time traveling Grandmaster, to the Prequel Era, trying to fix the mistakes the Jedi made, and get rid of a certain Sith too. Only Time Travel is not that easy, as Yoda will soon learn.

I've added chapter 11 to Time Travel: To the Past Yoda Goes. Below is a small selection, please click the link to read more.

Chapter 11 - At the Races

Anakin walked up to the door and eyed his Master. An unspoken show of support before the man pushed the button to ring the bell. Ever since they'd received the message the night before, inviting them over, Obi-Wan had been nervous. "But what does he want?" Anakin remembered him asking. The invitation hadn't said.

Qui-Gon opened the door with a smile on his face and ushered them inside.

'See!... I told you… He's happy…,' Anakin used their immature training bond to reassure Obi-Wan. He spent the last two days learning how to send just those short sentences.

"Like a youngling, a bond is. Feed it. Tend it. And grow it will," Master Yoda had lectured. Anakin got rather good at making his grow. If he pressed himself, he might get more than a few words, but Obi-Wan was still struggling with just sending thoughts and feelings, and Anakin thought he should wait for his Master to catch up first.

"Come on in. Obi-Wan, would you like some tea?" Qui-Gon offered. The jovial Master led them into a small kitchen in his quarters. Because most Jedi dined in the refectory, Anakin was learning, most Jedi quarters only had a small kitchenette, except for a Master’s quarters, which had a small, yet full kitchen space.

"Are those cookies!" Anakin shouted when he saw them on the table.

"Yes, help yourself," said Qui-Gon.

"Master, do you need any help?" Obi-Wan offered.

"No, no. I've got this." Qui-Gon busied himself with preparing something in the kitchen.

Anakin and Obi-Wan exchanged another subtle glance before they sat down at the table. They both reached right away to the plate of cookies. Anakin shoved his into his mouth, but Obi-Wan held his up to the light, as if examining it for a subtle incandescence.

"Are these Master Zao's?" He asked. "How'd you get your hands on Master Zao's cookies? They are legendary, and almost never found in the Refectory," Obi-Wan explained.

"Oh, I have my sources," Qui-Gon answered with a grin. He returned to the table with a tray of cups. "I have your favorite tea here, Obi-Wan. Anakin, have you ever tried Concordian Rooibos? It's a sweet, nutty blend. I think you'll like it."

"It's a hot drink. Be careful." Obi-Wan warned.

Anakin felt the mug and his Master was right. The drink was very hot, but he tentatively took a sip. Qui-Gon was right, it was sweet, in an odd sort of way. Anakin didn't know what to make of the drink. It tasted like one of the odd concoctions his mom made for old Master Watto and his foreign business partners. A very odd drink, indeed.

He put the cup aside to let it cool, and focused on the cookies. Obi-Wan was right. They were legendary. Somehow, they tasted just like the Ghomrassen cakes his mom makes on holidays. The ones that tasted best whenever she was able to acquire (acquire, not stole, because stealing's bad) her secret ingredient from Gardulla's kitchens. His Mom still insists, though, that the most important ingredient is love. Anakin once planned an experiment to test that fact, but they did not have the food to spare back then.

‘Perhaps,’ Anakin thought. ‘When mom is freed, we can finally test it. And if Master Zao can cook this well, he’s more than welcome to come and help me judge.’

"I was thinking," Qui-Gon started. "There is a racetrack here on Coruscant. It's in the Uscru District. Very clean establishment, I understand. And I was thinking Ani might like to come watch a race with me?” His voice went up with anxiety as he eyed Obi-Wan for an answer.

“Well, Anakin, What do you think of that?” Obi-Wan turned to ask him.

“Wizard! I’d love to go to the track with you, Master!” Anakin exclaimed.

“It’s Grandmaster. And I’m glad to hear that.” Qui-Gon relaxed into his chair, sipping his beverage as he did so.

***

Two days later, Anakin waited with sand in his clothes. Yuck, not real sand. His mom used to say that whenever he was so excited that he could not hold still.

Thinking about his mom had Anakin feeling sad, but not for long. No, today was the day Qui-Gon was taking him to the races, and he was due at any minute to pick him up...

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random-crappypasta-qoutes · 3 years ago

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This will probably be my longest post ever lol. Well, get ready for this behemoth of a story called Happy Tree Friends: The Funeral.

nscript

(the movie begins in the hospital showing Lumpy as a doctor, he comes across Buzz Lightyear, who has broken his arm off)

Lumpy: Hello, do you need fixing up?

Buzz Lightyear: Don't talk to me!

(Lumpy comes over to a bruised and bloodied Cuddles' hospital bed)

Lumpy: So, you were beaten up by Scoutmaster Lumpus?

Cuddles: (coughing up blood) Y-yes....

Lumpy: Hmmmmmmmm…..don't worry, I can make you better! (rubs two defibrillator paddles together) CLEAR! (electrocutes Cuddles, which burns him until his heart explodes)

(everyone shrieks)

Lumpy: Whoops, sorry....

Toothy: He's not the only one you know, Russell died of lung cancer, Flaky had of a heart attack from entering a chick farm, Cub was shot by a black guy because Pop wasn't there to protect him, Mime was shot by Cleveland Brown, and Splendid puked his organs out after swallowing the Kryptonut.

Nutty: Oh, why would we lose them too?!

Petunia: This is just terrible!

(later, at the funeral)

(The Intermezzo of Cavalleria Rusticana starts playing as the remaining Happy Tree Friends mourn for Cuddles, Russell, Flaky, Cub, Mime, and Splendid)

Reverend Lovejoy: Here lies Cuddles the bunny, Russell the pirate otter, Flaky the porcupine, Cub the baby bear, Mime the mime deer, and Splendid the super squirrel. We shall never forget the times we had with them.

PhantomStrider: (blows a horn) YAY!!!! 6 OF THE HAPPY TREE FRIENDS ARE DEAD!!!!

Happy Tree Friends Hater #1: LET'S CELEBRATE!!!!

PhantomStrider: (starts playing the Chicken Song by J.Geco)

Flippy: You evil disrespectors! I swear I'll cut you in your sleep!

Reverend Lovejoy: Question, how did Cuddles die?

Sniffles: Lumpy shocked him to death after he got beaten by Scoutmaster Lumpus.

Reverend Lovejoy: Oh, okay.

Diesel: Alright people, LET'S TEAR THIS PLACE DOWN!!!

PhantomStrider: I’m full of surprises, they ought to say of me, I bring some razzle dazzle to the yard, I’m full of surprises, as you can plainly, I don’t find being surprising all that hard. Some would probably say, I’m only up to my old tricks, but I’d say I’m a problem solver, looking for a nice quick fix. I’m full of surprises, they ought to say of me, I bring some razzle dazzle to the rail, I’m full of surprises, as you can plainly see, I’m trusting my surprises to prevail, I hope this time being surprising doesn’t fail! They used to call me devious, because I had a pit of previous, but please you must believious, I’m not that bad… Well maybe just a tad.

Crowd of Characters: (applause)

Russell Ferguson: That's what that pirate otter gets for stealing my name!

PhantomStrider: Come here, Happy Tree Friends haters!

Happy Tree Friends Haters: Coming!

PhantomStrider: Are you a real villain?

Hater #1: Well, uhhh….technically not

PhantomStrider: Have you ever caught a good guy like a real superhero?

Hater #1: Nah!

(Hater #2 shakes his head)

PhantomStrider: Have you ever tried a disguise?

Hater #1: Nah, nah....

PhantomStrider: Alright! I can see that I will have to teach you how to be villains!

Happy Tree Friends Haters: Hey! We are number one! Hey! We are number one!

PhantomStrider: Now listen closely. Here’s a little lesson in trickery. This is going down in history, If you wanna be a villain number one, You’ll have to chase a superhero on the run. Just follow my moves and sneak around be careful not to make a sound. (Happy Tree Friends Hater #1 steps on a branch) No! Don’t touch that! Ha, ha, ha! Now look at this net I just found. When I say “Go!”, be ready to throw! Go! Throw it at him, not me! Ugh! Let’s try something else. Now watch and learn, here’s the deal, you’ll slip and slide on these banana peel, (Happy Tree Friends haters slip on the Banana peels) What are you doing?! We are number one Hey! Hey!

Crowd of Characters: (applause)

Handy: Hmph!

Lumpy: I kinda like it!

PhantomStrider: And for you guys, I have something to say to you.

Giggles: Oh, great.....

PhantomStrider: A man has fallen into the river in LEGO City! Start the new rescue helicopter.

Crowd of Characters: HEY!!

PhantomStrider: Build the helicopter, and off to the rescue. Prepare the lifeline, lower the stretcher, and make the rescue. The new emergency collection from LEGO City!

Pop: My son is dead and you're telling us songs and quotes that make no sense?!

Flippy: (flips out) THAT IS IT!!!! WE WILL KILL YOU!!!!

(Silence breaks for 10 seconds)

PhantomStrider, the Happy Tree Friends Haters, and Crowd of Characters: (booing and throwing things at them)

Duck: Dingus!

Oliver: You shut up!

Smudger: Preachy!

Lammy: We’re not being preachy.

Yong Bao: (throws a jar of macaroni and cheese at Disco Bear)

Happy Tree Friends Hater #1: I thought they touched on a vital issue.

PhantomStrider: I beg to differ, hi-yah! (throws a rock)

Flippy: Okay! Okay! Uncle! We give up! Can we please call this a truce?

(Meanwhile…)

Frankie: (recording) Theo, this is not safe at all.

Theo: Shut up, Frankie! Just keep filming, Okay. I’m Theo, and I am The Greatest American Hero, my special power is being somehow memorable after a very short run on TV.

(Merlin, Hurricane and Lexi set off)

Theo: (singing) Believe it or not, I’m walking on air, I never thought I would be so free…

(Hurricane, Lexi and Merlin let go of Theo)

Theo: (still singing) Flyin’ away on a wing and a pray’r, who could it be? (could it be) believe it or not, it’s just… (crashes into a tree and falls into the lake at PhantomStrider’s concert, everyone stops booing and starts laughing at Theo)

Reverend Lovejoy: In many ways Cuddles, Russell, Flaky, Cub, Mime, and Splendid were supporting characters in our lives, they didn't grab out our attention with memorable catchphrases or comical accents.

Nutty: Awwwwwwwwwwww..........

PhantomStrider and Haters: (Singing) These guys are not use at all; Thinks they’re very clever. Says that they can manage us; that’s the best joke ever! When they order us about, with the greatest folly, we just kill them! Pop Goes Old Dummies! (PhantomStrider and the haters laugh and then run up to the Happy Tree Friends with spears, torches, pitchforks, katanas, battering rams, axes, pistols, chainsaws, whips, bazookas, tasers, pepper spray, medieval flails, maces, shis, staffs, nunchucks, rolling pins, shurikens, broken glass bottles, and plasma cannons making battle cries and kill them)

(later, they all respawn back in a different timeline)

Cuddles: Well, of course we'd all be back. It's Happy Tree Friends, for goodness sake! Next time I'll stay away from Scoutmaster Lumpus. Hmmm....that's funny, I feel hungry for some cat all of a sudden. (sees a cat on the floor, pupils dialate) Come here, after-death snack! (iris closes up on the cat as Cuddles eats it offscreen)

(after-credits scene, July 19, 2069…)

Hater #1: Uuuuuuuuuuh, PhantomStrider? I don't think we should be here again.

PhantomStrider: Come on, the Happy Tree Friends are all dead now.

Hater #2: But you know they can respawn, right?

PhantomStrider: I know, but they'll respawn in a different timeline, so there's nothing here to be afraid of.

(a hand grabs PhantomStrider and throws him off a bridge)

PhantomStrider: (screams)

(the Happy Tree Friends haters watch PhantomStrider fall to his death, now more scared than before, they turn around and see Jack Skellington heading towards them)

Jack Skellington: GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!

(cuts to static)

(after-credits scene second part, Cuddles is fast asleep with Giggles in their bed together, when their room is intruded by PhantomStrider's ghost, just as PhantomStrider raises his arm to attack them, Cuddles wakes up and finds that the room is empty. Assuming PhantomStrider's ghost to be a dream, Cuddles goes back to sleep, oblivious to the presence of PhantomStrider's shirt on the floor)

This is... *inhales* *exhales*

What does PhantomStrider has to do with Happy Tree Friends!?!

You do know the characters don't talk right?

WTF!?!

How is this supposed to be scary?

#crappypasta #qoute #happy tree friends #what is this #crossover

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transienturl · 3 years ago

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Wow fucking up your sleep can make you have some pretty nutty dreams. I had one in which I was trying to wake up from what I knew to be a dream unsuccessfully (I knew it was a dream because when I looked directly at people's faces, which I never do in dreams since I can't visualize faces, they fell apart into faceless blanks on regular human bodies or mouths full of teeth staring at me - this is layer 2) and eventually only managed to do so by "trying to fall asleep" in the dream, which enabled me to wake up, and then once awake I tried to write this useful advice down for people but kept doing it in irrational ways like making the words out of collages of scraps of other words like a serial killer, or drawing lines between words in a word cloud, or writing each couple of letters on different scraps of metal, until my dad was like "maybe you should just do this one the normal way" so I sighed and resigned myself to writing the words out on paper with a pencil yet somehow directly into the internet, but by that point I thought I had forgotten what the advice was, which often happens when I try to write down dreams, and then I was annoyed about forgetting dreams, and then I realized that this was still a dream, which as you probably realized I never do (this is layer 1), and then I woke up for real and wrote this post.

Earlier in layer 2 I was with the family of my best friend from from elementary school (a girl who, in real life, I think wistfully about sometimes because I'd like to think we would have stayed friends forever if I hadn't changed schools and thus if we'd grown up to be more mature together, but I was immature as hell then and didn't know how to communicate over the internet and honestly who knows if I interpreted our friendship correctly).

But anyways, I'll gloss over the part where it was her younger sister's birthday and she was doing this scavenger hunt set up by an older brother (irl: she has no older brother) where she had to find yellow plastic keys hidden throughout the house, and partway through the older brother gave me the solution book and left, and I was supposed to be running the event, but the book actually contained their old dance consumes and something something it was all an elaborate reference with a message I didn't get.

But, later, I went up to my friend's room, just to talk with her, catch up. Her siblings had been elsewhere but suddenly they were there in the room, off to the sides, very quiet and still, and my dream brain went "wait, this isn't correct for the narrative" but couldn't resolve it with any action like me saying something coherent, because I don't know what I would have said in that situation when I wanted to talk to her alone but had no particular justification, so it just continued on like that, much more awkward than intended, but still sort of as if they all weren't there.

And we said hi, and when was the last time we'd seen each other (2007 - the wrong answer, I worked out later, but actually it's only off by one, which is scary), and then suddenly she was so upset, telling me about the boy she'd dated before me (??? - this was grade 5, maybe she had dated before then but I was way way too young and immature to be even thinking about that at that time), how he was stupid and unkind and had mistreated her, and how I'd been so much better, how I read books, how I was thoughtful and interesting, and how unhappy she'd been with partners mistreating her since I left, and both of us were crying even though it didn't seem realistic to me, in a way, like, "you read books" seemed like a really forced thing for this to be about. But, like... irl, I was told after middle school by a friend that I trust that I was the clueless innocent one that all my classmates didn't talk about their hookups and drug use to, and that was 3 years after I knew this girl; would I have been aware enough to know if she were mistreated, and if I represented better things in her life? No. Unequivocally, no. I don't actually think this dream reflects reality in that way, obviously not, but can I point to evidence that it definitely doesn't? No. And this isn't the only time in my life that I've felt like I took something good away from someone I care deeply about, even though the idea that just my presence is valuable like that is deeply narcissistic and even in the dream I recognized and was skeptical of that.

You want a nightmare? That's a fucking nightmare. (Though, honestly, not really. It wasn't particularly frightening or intense at any point. My most interesting dreams are more notable for being interestingly written, and my most "frightening" dreams are most notable for being psychologically illuminating.)

Oh - and I could see her face. But it wasn't her face, I could tell, because I could also imagine her real face, and that wasn't it. She had her voice, I knew it was supposed to be her, but it wasn't her face, not even a grown up over 15 years version.

#abuse mention #not sure if it counts #but better safe than sorry

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