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fayes-fics · 10 months ago

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When The World Is Free: Chapter 1 - Sous le ciel de Paris

MASTERPOST | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Welcome to the start of my new multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. Please note that while I do have a plotted outline, I will be posting chapters as I write them, and I expect that process to take quite a few months. Please bear with me! This first chapter sets up the story - reader moving to Paris in the summer of 1939 and bonding with her new flatmate, Eloise Bridgerton. Please note that Benedict won't be turning up for a couple of chapters yet. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy! <3

August 1939

Emerging from the underground Trocadero metro stop, you round the corner of the recently completed, gleaming Palais de Chaillot and stop dead in your tracks. There before you is the most iconic landmark of Paris. Perhaps all of France.

La Tour Eiffel.

Breathtaking in its metallic magnificence, glowing in the setting sun. A sight that buoys your travel-weary soul seven days after you left New York: boats and trains finally bringing you to this wondrous spot. A light breeze even dances over your neck in greeting, a balm from the cloying subterranean heat of the metro.

It's a light elbow check to your arm that pulls you back from a state of reverie.

“A beautiful sight, but one you’ll get used to,” your uncle Robert chuckles, shaking your heavy leather case to indicate it's time to move along. “In fact, I've been told you will be able to see it from your appartement…”

He has accompanied you to Paris and will see you settled into your new adventures before continuing on to visit friends in England. He spent the roaring 20s living right here in the 16th arrondissement himself and, indeed, has arranged for you to share living quarters with a young British lady, a relative of his English friends. It's a comfort to know you’ll have at least one English speaker to chat with as you dive headfirst into learning proper French as you go.

Robert leads you away from the amazing sight and into the bustling streets, alive with cars, trams, bicycles and pedestrians buzzing in all directions. It's all at once like New York City, but yet so different as well, cafe terraces filling the wide pavements with all manner of people gathered to sip robust cafe au lait and refreshing limonade.

Within minutes, you are on a quieter side street and stopping outside a handsome honey-coloured stone facade with wrought iron window balconies and window guards, teaming with colourful, fragrant flowering pots. The number 14 gleaming white on a traditional navy blue tile. Your uncle pushes the enormous wooden door open, beckoning you into a cool whitewash wall corridor with mosaic floor tiles.

“Ahhh, Robert!!” a sophisticated middle-aged lady bustles from a nearby doorway and greets your uncle warmly, kissing both cheeks. It would appear they are friends of old.

“Y/n, this is Madam DuLac, your landlady,” he explains as you offer a handshake, admiring her boucle jacket and chic bun.

“Qu’est-ce?” she signals with a good-natured frown, obviously finding your polite greeting lacking, pulling you into a hug and two-cheeked kiss. She smells like Chanel perfume, cigarettes and baked goods. “You are in Paris now, ma chérie; this is how we greet one another,” she counsels in heavily accented but perfect English.

“You speak English?” you sigh, relieved, your French decidedly lacking.

“Bien sûr,” she smiles. “And please call me Solène,” she adds with a friendly smile.

“Eloise should be home from the library maintenant; the perfect time for you to meet,” she gestures towards an elevator cage surrounded by a sweeping grey marble staircase.

“I think I would prefer to take the stairs,” you admit, nerves flaring at the idea of such a contraption.

Your uncle laughs. “Well, I am taking it; I am not hefting this case of yours up five flights of stairs,” he adds dryly as you gaze up the swirling stairwell.

“Five storeys?” you squeak.

“The view is the best from the top,” Solène advises as she rattles back the cage entry and steps in, looking at you expectantly.

Reluctantly, you follow, all three of you and your luggage crammed into the metal cage as it jerks to life and begins its ascent.

“You will get used to it,” Solène smiles as she reads the apprehension on your face, your vice-like grip on your small vanity case and handbag.

Luckily, the lift reaches your destination safely. One shudder before it stops, and the door concertinas back in Solène’s hand to reveal a sweeping hallway with doors left and right.

“Ici,” she signals, the last door on the right-hand side.

But before you can knock, the door peels open, and a pretty, petite brunette jumps in surprise, dropping the book she is holding.

“Pardon,” she offers in perfect accented French, and you wonder for a split second if it is the correct apartment.

“Eloise, this is y/n,” Solène gestures.

“Ohhh, hello,” she grins, and the whiplash back to a plummy British accent is momentarily confusing. “I was about to go read in the courtyard, thought you might not be turning up today. Anyway… come in, come in!”

You shake her proffered hand as she ushers you into the apartment. Instantly, you feel a warmth spreading in your belly, like you have come home. It's light and airy, with large windows looking out across the Parisian rooftops, and yes, to the left is indeed the Eiffel Tower, still gleaming in the fading evening light. But the place also feels homely, that sort of messy that is lived in, comfortable. A large velvet sofa with tumbling stacks of books around it, a little kitchenette awash with colourful enamel cookware, and a jumble of art deco posters and random paintings adorning the walls.

“Solène, I don't suppose you've baked any more of those rather delicious madeleines, have you? To welcome my new housemate?” Eloise pipes up with a chipper, conspiratorial wink your way.

You already like her.

“Effronte!” Solène exclaims with fond exasperation before pausing. “There may be some…”

“I remember those!” your uncle adds with a tinge of nostalgia as he drops your suitcase. “You are in for such a treat, y/n.”

“Well, while our landlady decides if she’s willing to share the treats she has obviously baked but is being coy about…”Eloise raises a pointed eyebrow at the woman before returning to you. “...let me show you your room, then maybe a drink? I'm sure it's been a long journey.”

You nod and, with an exchange of grins, follow her down a corridor. She sweeps open the door to a lovely room, a large double bed with matching bedside tables and a dresser. But best of all, french doors onto a Juliet balcony overlooking a quiet courtyard filled with a riot of birch trees, their leaves gently rustling in the evening breeze.

“Mostly, it’s pesky pigeons down there, but you do get the occasional blackbird singing in the morning,” Eloise smiles as if intuiting your thoughts.

You spend some moments wandering the room and checking out the various fixtures, running idle hands over the furniture, already feeling remarkably at home with your new housemate and, indeed, your new home for the next twelve months.

“I'm just next door,” Eloise reveals, pointing a thumb over her shoulder.

Your uncle appears in the doorway to announce that he and Solène are off to catch up as you unpack and suggests you all reunite for dinner later at a local bistro. It all sounds so very Parisian chic; you cannot wait.

“So tell me about yourself,” Eloise flops onto your bed, already wonderfully casual in your presence, as you open your case and the wardrobe to unpack.

“I’m y/n. I'm from a little town on Long Island called Patchogue, about fifty miles outside New York City. I'm 22…”

“Me too!” she interjects, then signals for you to proceed.

“I wanted to see the world before I settled down. And I’ve dreamed of living in Paris since I was a little girl...” You feel your eyes misting at the fact it's now finally coming true as you continue. “So my parents agreed to pay for me to come to Paris for a year. Under the strict agreement, I get married when I return…”

“You have a fiancé?”

“Yes. Well, sort of. Stanley. We practically grew up together, and we’ve been going steady since we were eighteen.”

“Going steady? That's so American,” Eloise chuckles.

You nod with a giggle, then continue. “He hasn't proposed formally yet, says he is saving up for a ‘real nice’ ring, but it will happen. He is the son of my dad’s business partner. They run a construction company. So, while I'm here, they are building a home for us to live in when I return. We will get married next summer and move right in.”

“You don't mind?” Eloise frowns.

“Don’t mind what?” you query as you hang up your favourite dress.

“That your future is so… plotted out. I couldn't bear the idea. It's why I think my mother let me move to Paris. She was so fed up with me refusing to settle down.” Eloise laughs, idly flicking through the magazine you were reading on your journey.

“I suppose I've never really expected anything else,” you shrug, pausing as you put away your hosiery, but her words make you contemplative. “You don't have a boyfriend back home?”

“God, no. Too many pretty Frenchmen to entertain me here,” she winks. “I’ll introduce you to some, just in case you change your mind,” she breezes, climbing off your bed and drifting to the door. “Wine?”

“Oh… well, why not? When in France, etc,” you agree and close the drawer on the pile of cardigans you have just safely stacked.

“That's the spirit!” she effuses over her shoulder as you follow her back into the living room, the Eiffel Tower still glittering in the dusk.

“This place is so lovely,” you sigh, transfixed by the view as she wanders over and hands you a glass.

“It is a pretty magical view,” she agrees, staring at the skyline with you, watching as each window seems to illuminate in soft yellow with the dying light.

“And the decor, too; I see you love books as much as me,” you smile, tilting your head to the piles before taking a sip of red wine. It's the perfect balance of refreshing, mellow fruitiness and tart tannin coating your tongue, so much better than any wine back home.

“Oh god, yes! I work in the library. I can bring home as many as I want,” she enthuses.

“So, are there actually any left on the shelves?” you jest, lightly, savouring your drink and wandering to take a closer look at a smaller painting that catches your eye. It's very different to all of the others.

“My god, this is beautiful,” you breathe, hugging your wineglass to your chest as you stare transfixed at the art. It appears to be a large country house, probably British, bathed in the warm pinkish light of dawn.

“That's home. Aubrey Hall in Kent. I think the family made me bring it in the hopes it would make me homesick,” Eloise deadpans.

“It’s a wonderful piece,” you breathe, fingers reaching out to lightly trace over the heavily oiled brushstrokes. Something about it is so captivating and intimate.

“I'll be sure to let the artist know,” she smirks. “Although I'm reticent to give him any more praise, seeing as, unfortunately, he is my brother.”

“Your brother painted this?” taken aback by the revelation, assuming it an heirloom.

She nods and comes to stand next to you. “Yup. Benedict. Second eldest. I'm fifth of eight, by the way. Hence ‘E’ for Eloise. It's a thing,” she rolls her eyes.

“Wow. Big family. I just have one brother...”

“Lucky you. Although, as much as he is irritating, if I could only keep one sibling, it probably would be him,” she admits, taking a swig of wine.

“I love art,” you sigh, finally tearing your gaze from the canvas but already knowing it is something you will return to again and again. A pull you can’t quite understand.

“Oh, then I know the perfect job for you! There’s a gallery around the corner from the library, and I saw a sign saying they wanted an English speaker to assist international visitors! You would be perfect!”

“I would love that!” you extol, even as a tiny part of your brain lingers on the idea that it would be too good to be true if it all worked out, that fleeting sense of foreboding in paradise.

“Excellent!” Eloise’s enthusiasm pulls you back to the immediate. “So let’s get your glad rags on! It's time to hit the town for your first night in Paris!”

And thus, you find yourself being bundled back into your room to refresh and change for your first night in the city of your dreams. Indeed, as you find yourself being led by Eloise, arm looped in yours, through the bustling evening streets to a little bistro, your uncle and Solène already waiting at a table with smiling faces and drinks in hand, you can't help but feel this really is the only place in the world you could ever want to be…

Your adventure is just beginning.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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awkward-tension-art · 5 months ago

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Bacta and Bandages Chp. 1 (Rex x Reader)

I suppose this is a prequel to Darkness on Umbara. It's mostly going to be lighthearted after the darkness and despair of that series LMAO! Enjoy slow-burn Rex x Reader :)

Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Epilogue

Introductions

CW: Reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), reader is a doctor, if I miss a tag LMK!

Minors DNI, and this is NOT proofread!

Assignment: 501st Clone Battalion

General: Anakin Skywalker

Commander: Ahsoka Tano

Admiral: Wullf Yularen

The datapad in your hands was bright. You couldn’t help but smile at the words on the screen.

When the war started, you stepped away from your job as a doctor in one of the hospitals on Coruscant to join the war effort. Your knowledge and experience with more advanced medical procedures gave you the rank of ‘Field Surgeon’ right off the bat. After a few weeks of combat training, army regulation and discipline, you were given a choice.

You could be the doctor of one of the natural born soldier battalions, or you could join a clone battalion.

You didn’t pick the 501st because they’re clones. You actually picked the 501st for their general.

Despite the war only being about a month in, you had gotten reports of all the battalion numbers. Casualties. Injuries. MIA. and other statistics.

Out of all the generals, Anakin Skywalker had the highest injuries, but lowest deaths. After some digging, you found out he was also one of the leaders who would fight at the front, with all of his men.

He’s a good man. You thought as you made the request to be assigned to the 501st.

Within the rotation you said goodbye to your family, friends and colleagues and prepared yourself. You stepped onto the transport ship that would take you to The Resolute, the venator you would be stationed with.

Your eyes roamed over your datapad. First steps would be to report to Admiral Yularen, a stern, hardworking yet patient admiral. He would be located at the command center of the ship, most likely. With luck, General Skywalker would be there.

Be professional. You told yourself, You are a capable doctor. You can handle this.

The ship landed in the hangar and you stepped off. You looked around getting your bearings. There was energy and movement happening around you, as you had come aboard the same time as a resupply of the ship. Troopers and maintenance crews dashed around, adding some chaos to the entire area.

“Alright,” You sighed to yourself, “Find Admiral Yularen.” Despite the new meetings, you felt calm. Collected.

You managed to get about seven steps through the hanger before you heard a yelp and were crashed into by someone. You hit the ground and the heavy weight on top of you knocked the wind out of your lungs.

“Sorry!” That weight, a body clad in plastoid, scrambled to get off of you, “I didn’t see you, I was moving some medical supplies and-”

“Hardcase!” A pair of hands were helping you sit up, “I told you to be careful! Now you’ve hurt someone!” The voices were almost the exact same. A glance at the both of them told you all you needed to know.

Clone troopers. Not rookies, since their armor was painted blue.

“I’m alright,” You rubbed the side of your head. These two guys must be embarrassed, and there was no point in making a big deal of an accident.

“I am so sorry about Hardcase,” One of them, head shaved in a unique pattern, helped you stand, “He was let out of his tube too early and he’s been a moron ever since.” You spotted a flash of red on his shoulder plate.

Medic.

You were about to respond when another voice, this one holding more authority, cut above them.

“What have the both of you done?”

The two troopers scrambled, straightening. They saluted the approaching soldier.

Blonde hair. Blue paulron on one shoulder. Kama. ARC trooper? He has rank, clearly.

“Captain Rex, sir! We were moving supplies and-”

“Hardcase ran into this bystander.”

“Kix!”

The soldier, Captain Rex, looked over to you, “Are you alright?” He was standing in front of you, brown eyes roaming your form for injuries.

“Yes, Captain,” You slipped into professionalism, “It was an accident, nothing more.”

“Who are you? Are you authorized to be here?” His gaze was critical, most likely clocking you in as a potential threat.

“I’m your new field surgeon, sir.” You turned your datapad to face him. The screen held your credentials. You introduced yourself and continued, “I’m supposed to report to Admiral Yularen. Inform him I’m here and go to the medical bay.”

“Hm, alright doctor.” Rex handed you your datapad, “I’m on my way to the command deck, I’ll show you the way.”

You maintained your respect and professionalism, “Thank you, sir.”

“Both of you, get back to work. Now.” He snapped to both Kix and Hardcase before he began to lead you out of the hangar.

Captain Rex of the 501st. Who would have thought you’d meet him so soon?

Well, if you had questions about the troopers, he was the one to ask, “Captain, may I ask you something about the soldiers?”

“Go ahead, doctor.” He nodded to you, allowing you to continue.

“How is morale among the men?”

You’d need to be prepared for potential mental and emotional issues. Yes, clones were made to be resistant to the stresses of war, but they could still develop PTSD, depression, anxiety….

“It’s good, Doctor.” The captain responded, “With a leader like General Skywalker, the men are always in high spirits.”

Oh, that's a relief.

“That's good.” You looked down as you kept walking, “Do you know if any of the soldiers have chronic issues? I’d like to know if anyone needs extra or unique care.”

You didn’t miss how surprised he looked, but after a second he shook his head, “No. No issues that I’m aware of.”

You just got here, and already you were ready to work.

“That's good to know,” You looked down at your datapad, you wanted to take notes. Make sure you know these soldiers. You would be their doctor, their caregiver. You’d be treating their wounds and illnesses.

They go to you in their most vulnerable states.

Rex led you through the metal hallways. The venator was a large ship, and it would take a few minutes to get to Admiral Yularen.

“May I ask, Doctor,” His voice had taken a quieter, but still respectful tone, “Why join the 501st? There are non-clone battalions that could use a doctor, I’m sure.”

You smiled softly, “I wanted to help as many people as I can.” you responded honestly, “And based on the reports i’ve read, General Skywalker seems like a great leader.”

The captain seemed to accept your answer easily, “He is a fierce general. Reckless sometimes, but he cares for his soldiers. He won’t ask us to take risks that he himself wouldn’t take”

Ah, a good man indeed.

“I can’t wait to meet him, then.” You took in your surroundings. The halls of The Resolute were well lit. The metal of the floors and walls were protective and clean. The entire ship looked to be in great shape, indicating the maintenance crew were on top of everything.

The small talk you made with Rex was pleasant and polite. You could tell he was a hardworking soldier, and his men respected him.

It’s going to be pleasant working with him. You thought to yourself.

The double doors to the command center opened, revealing the heart and brains of the venator. Officers were walking around, discussing and planning for their next mission. At the center was a navigation table with a hologram of a planet with 5 moons.

In front of you was a young man, with lovely blue eyes and brown hair. He was clad in black armored robes. Beside him was a smaller togruta looking at you in curiously, her skin was orange, and she wore deep crimson clothing. At their hips were lightsabers.

Jedi.

The male jedi was listening as another officer, an Admiral, based on his uniform.

That must be Admiral Yularen.

Rex nodded and you followed, “General, sorry to interrupt, but someone needs to speak with the Admiral.”

The Jedi looked at you, tilting his head slightly, “And you are?”

You cleared your throat and introduced yourself, “I am your new field surgeon. I was told to report to Admiral Yularen.”

“Ah yes!” The older gentleman perked up, “You were the doctor who made a specific request to join the 501st. Welcome aboard.”

“Thank you, sir.” You nodded, “Happy to be here.”

“Well, Doctor.” The Jedi crossed his arms with a smirk, “I’m Anakin Skywalker, this is my Padawan Ahsoka Tano,” The young girl gave you a friendly smile and a nod, “I have to ask, why join my battalion? I’m sure there are non-clone legions that can use a doctor.”

“I wanted to help people,” You responded, “and since you have the fewest fatalities out of all the Generals…I thought your battalion was the best way to help.”

You’ve been repeating yourself a lot today…well, it was all part of introductions, you suppose.

General Skywalker seemed to perk up and look at you, “Fewest fatalities?”

Has no one told him?

“Yes sir.” You informed him, “You're the General with the fewest fatalities in your troopers. Injuries are high, but more men are surviving.”

“Huh.” His face practically beamed in pride, “I didn’t know that. But…well, good to know.”

“He’s going to brag to Obiwan about it.” Ahoska leaned forward slightly to make her snide remark, “We’re never going to hear the end of it.”

“Watch it, Snips.” He snapped, though there was no anger in his words, “I get to rub it in Obi-Wan's face that I’m a better leader.”

“More risky, I’d say.”

The two began to tease and taunt each other. They reminded you of siblings bickering. But, at the end of the day, they’d have eachothers back.

“Do they…uhhh,” You turned to Rex, “Do they do this often?”

“Yes.” He sighed, “They do.”

Admiral Yularen then addressed you as the two Jedi poked one another, “I’m sure you’ve had a long day. Your quarters are attached to the medical bay. Captain Rex, is it alright if you show our new doctor where they will be staying?”

“Of course, Admiral.” Rex saluted. He nodded to you to follow him.

You kept pace.There was something you wanted to ask, but you weren’t entirely sure how to ask it. As a doctor, you had to be sensitive to those of unique backgrounds. And the clones were certainly unique.

The clones were humans. But…how were they being treated by nat-borns such as yourself? They were an anomaly in the medical community right now. How are doctors handling their health?

“Captain Rex, may I ask a question of a…sensitive nature?” fuck it. May as well rip the patch off.

He paused and looked at you curiously, “I suppose so, doctor.”

“I will do my best to treat everyone on this ship equally and with respect,” You started, feeling as though you needed to explain yourself, “And I want to ask if there are any…boundaries, or lines I shouldn't cross when speaking to the soldiers. Everyone is unique of course, but I don’t want to unintentionally come across as rude or insensitive to clones.”

His eyes widened slightly. He looked at you as if trying to figure you out, “Us clones put loyalty above all else,” he answered honestly, “As for being rude and insensitive…well, just treat everyone how you would treat any other patient.”

Your smile was small but grateful, “Right. Thank you, Captain Rex.”

“Just Rex.” He responded, continuing to walk, “When there's no need for protocol, just Rex is fine.”

You nodded, “Then the feeling is mutual. When it's just us, you don’t need to use my title.”

Rex gave you an honest smile.

What a lovely smile, you thought to yourself.

#reader insert #captain rex x reader #tcw x reader #captain rex #star wars x reader #my writing #rex x reader #tcw #the clone wars #clones #star wars the clone wars #star wars tcw #clone troopers

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yourheart-inmyhands · 1 year ago

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craving smthn soft with yan venti and freminet........ just... sweet words about how theyll never let you go, or think badly of you while holding you in their arms all snuggly in bed (whether you like it or not)

i love the contrast between venti and freminet, such gentle kind souls whilst also being entirely different at the base. A five star, anemo bow user, from mondstat versus a four star, cryo claymore user, from fontaine XD

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including obsessive behaviors, a little bit of delusional behaviors, the rest is just soft stuff :D, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Venti is in his element here, soft and sweet words whispered into your ear as he holds you close. The two of you laying together in bed as he keeps your head tucked onto his chest, his fingers tracing shapes that you don’t recognize faintly over your shoulder blades.

While he isn’t entirely opposed to using it, Venti prefers to keep violence and force out of the relationship, he wants you to naturally seek his company, to want him as badly as he wants you.

It’s why he never fuses or fights when you want affection or attention, gladly dropping whatever he’s doing to put all his attention on you. You are the only thing that really matters in his mind, all other things are lost among the absolute that is you. The way your every thought consumes him whole, his false heart seeming to beat out of control for you at just the thought of your presence.

His poetic nature only makes his words much sweeter, lips spewing endless trains of sugar coated symphonies that only your ears get to bear witness to.

Hours have passed feeling merely like minutes as you laid there, curled up in Venti’s embrace as his lips moved continuously. You didn’t know how he seemed to come up with such endless thoughts, and when asked he only replied that he could talk about you till the end of time. A silly, poetic answer, but one that carried still a lot of weight. A hum of content leaves your lips as you feel his fingers pick up their motions again. You weren’t familiar with the symbols Venti traced, even as you tried to reimagine them in your mind, it still never even came out to anything remotely legible to you. Whether it was just random patterns and swirls or something deeper to Venti didn’t matter much to you, just so long as he continued to love you so devotedly.

Yandere!Freminet is not good with words. He doesn’t know how to say all the sweet frilly stuff that couples say to each other. His fluster and stumbled words always tripping him up when he even thinks about what to say to you.

What he doesn’t mess up on talking about though is machines, because he knows machines. He knows how they work and what should and shouldn’t be with them, they have absolutes, something that words of affection sometimes don’t

So in his own, loving way, he talks about you as if you were a machine. If you were a robot that he built, how would he build you? Where does he start, what kind of material and parts does he use and what would you be built for. He explains it all in detail to you.

He tells you about the kinds of repairs and maintenance you might need. How often you might need a good polishing or a new coat of paint. If it has anything to do with machinery he will talk about it. It’s almost weird, but endearing in a way. To have someone think so deeply about you as an individual, discussing every small detail and piece of you with such invested interest. It’s strange, but so genuinely Freminet.

You could listen to Freminet talk for hours, laying beside you on the grass, hand holding yours as he gazes deeply into your eyes. Occasionally he sits up, leaning over you to trace down a specific part of your body, using the real you to explain the pretend machine you as a concept. It’s cute, the way he focuses so intently on describing every detail for you, running over the same part over and over again in his head until he’s certain you can picture the same thing he sees. He’s a little strange, but he’s so devoted to you, to everything that is or in relation to you. He’s Freminet, your dorky partner.

#genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin x male reader #venti x reader #venti x male reader #yandere venti x reader #yandere venti x male reader #freminet x reader #freminet x male reader #yandere freminet x reader #yandere freminet x male reader #yandere venti #yandere fremient #yandere genshin

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tummy-stuffing-king · 6 months ago

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bear with me with thoughts of a solo space scavenger with a ship's AI that controls all aspects of the life support, including nutrition

the captain making an offhanded comment about how they'd like to look like some big species of alien, or a particularly large human, and the AI taking it to heart, adjusting their meals accordingly

a simple glitch in the system that adds an extra zero to the end of the recommended daily calorie count

the ship was scavenged from another species, and the captain doesn't realize the AI is not programmed for a human metabolism for some time

the AI provides a baseline required nutrition value, but the captain is able to request any amount at their discretion. the baseline changes based on size and subsequent nutritional needs, so serving sizes grow to keep up with their waistline, but the requests for additional servings regardless have become mere reflex

the captain not even noticing that they've changed because of adaptive, truly-one-size-fits-all space suits that shift with them. it isn't until they dock at a station and try to put on their civillian clothes that they realize just how much theyve indulged

low- or no-grav ship meaning they have no idea how heavy they've become until they dock for the first time in months, with muscles and joints unaccustomed to all this weight

a system that automatically pumps passengers full of all the nutrients they need as they sleep in order to cut down on non-essential activities, and to spare them the unappetizing nutrient solution. the captain wakes in the mornings feeling full and bloated, and it wanes throughout the day

or, it wanes some, but not all the way, and it takes the captain some time to realize how it's sticking to them

the captain, bored on their solo flight, continually asking the replicator for snacks, not caring about any effects it might have, only about having something to do

the AI training itself not on what the captain needs, but what they enjoy. they like the food better when there's more butter, more sugar, more fat, or just more of it? so be it. the machine's job is to keep them fed and alive, nothing else

it's the captain's first time on a ship that didn't have to carry solid rations, and the first time they havent had to share the limited resources with shipmates. they instruct the AI to fill them as full as it can without incurring bodily injury, and spend an entire cycle immobilized and weakened by their aching, spherical gut

narrow ship passageways suddenly becoming more tight fitting than the captain has ever known

an autofeed cycle perpetually attached to them so they dont have to break from piloting or maintenance, the constant stream of nutrients meaning they always feel full and bloated

#my post #text #imagine #stuffing #weight gain #belly kink

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positivelybeastly · 4 months ago

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[Roleplay Start]

The cryptid approached much like how a predator stalked its prey before making the kill. Instead, he placed himself in the wicker chair. There was a knowing gleam in his eye and a wicked smirk playing across his face that was infamous for getting him and his friends into more crap than most others knew how to handle. Were you most others? Who could say? Perhaps you were, perhaps you weren’t. We will just have to wait and see. “Are we sitting comfortably?” The creature spoke, his voice rich with confidence and warmth. “Stories. I’ve told a few in my time, been in a few too. Stories are like people, they come in all sorts of shapes and sizes, they can be unruly and complicated, they can get out of hand, they can be funny, they can be scary…they can be sad.”

The creature’s gaze turned away from you for just a moment, his eyes almost seeming to droop melancholically. It turned back to you before it could be commented on and he continued. “My favorite stories, the ones I like to think can place themselves in the lives of absolutely anybody, tend to be *adventure* stories. They move quickly, packed full of danger, mystery, villains, and monsters- oh yes…”

His yellow eyes narrowed and his smirk grew into a full-on grin. “So many…monsters…”

…

The sun cast a warm, golden hue over New York City, painting the skyline in shades of tranquility. The bustling metropolis, often a stage for extraordinary battles, seemed to be enjoying an uncharacteristic peace. Central Park was alive with the laughter of children, joggers taking their early morning strides, and couples enjoying leisurely strolls. The air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers and the distant hum of traffic, a symphony of what many would call normalcy.

At the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning, serenity reigned. Students practiced their powers under the watchful eyes of their mentors, their youthful exuberance filling the halls with a sense of hope and potential. The grounds were immaculate, the summer sun casting long shadows across the lush greenery. In the library, a place often filled with whispers of strategy and contemplation, there was an unusual stillness. Books, ancient and new, stood sentinel on their shelves, bearing witness to the calm.

Outside, the world seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. The Avengers Tower stood tall and silent, its occupants engaged in routine maintenance and training drills. The Daily Bugle's latest headlines spoke of mundane politics and celebrity gossip, a far cry from the sensational crises that usually dominated its front page. Even the ever-watchful eyes of S.H.I.E.L.D. found little to report, their surveillance systems capturing nothing more than the daily grind of a city at peace.

Hank McCoy, known to the world as Beast, was seated within his apartment, located closest to the middle of these locations, surrounded by a makeshift fortress of scientific literature. His blue fur, seemed to blend into the shadows as he pored over his notes. The rhythmic ticking of a clock on the wall punctuated the silence, a reminder of time's relentless march forward. His work, no doubt a delicate balance of research and preparation, continued uninterrupted, his mind a whirl of equations and hypotheses.

*Yet, beneath this veneer of calm, there was that unmistakable tension—that collective holding of breath. A familiar sensation, one that seasoned heroes and vigilant citizens alike had come to recognize.* *The calm before the storm. It was a phrase that echoed in the minds of those who had seen too much to trust in lasting peace. The world, it seemed, was caught in a moment of delicate balance, a prelude to inevitable chaos.*

They all knew it, but few wanted to actually say it.

The silence of Hank’s office was abruptly broken. The insistent ring of his phone sliced through the quiet, yet another jarring reminder that serenity on this Earth was often fleeting. The moment of calm had passed, and the storm, it seemed, was ready to begin.

"I think it's time . . . for you to know . . ." Humming under his breath as he scrawled away at his notes, both of his fuzzy blue mitts occupied by a pen and working on different projects, Hank's half-moon glasses were perched on the very tip of his nose, very nearly on the verge of sliding off as he mumbled softly along to the song routed through his earbuds. "The awful truth . . . the truth about me, and the truth about you . . ."

Glancing up at his clock, the pre-eminent mutant scientist made a note of the time, just a half hour before he was due to give his remote lecture on genetic atavism to Cambridge, before his lambent eyes cast back downwards once more. "Cause you're a brand new species, big cat, uh, oh . . ."

Running his tongue along his teeth contemplatively as he checked back over his calculations, the Beast tutted as he realised he'd been writing so quickly the ink hadn't dried and the excess had gotten all over his forearm, though, thankfully, it hadn't ruined the work.

"Space Nazis, Robert Stack, uh, oh, god damn it, gonna snap, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh . . ." Capping his pen and dropping it atop his notes, Hank moved off to clean the ink from his arm, running it under a cool burst of water from the sink and rubbing softly to get the more persistent splotches out. "Leonard Nimoy, call me back, call me back . . ."

Just as he was about to get a little more into the song, really put his baritone through its paces, the dulcet tones of Lemon Demon were interrupted by the harsh staccato of his phone going off, and he sighed as he popped out his earbuds. A shame.

He'd almost been relaxed.

Swiping his Starkphone from the bedside table, Hank brought it up to his ear and accepted the call, moving over to the kitchen to scare up a Twinkie or three for what would pass for lunch. "Hank McCoy's phone, this is Hank. How might I be of service?"

#focuriosityblog-25 #verse: getting by

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caravanreliability · 8 months ago

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Bearing Lubrication Methods and Failure Analysis | Optimizing Reliability By Caravan Reliability Services

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Bearing lubrication methods are crucial for ensuring the smooth operation and longevity of bearings in various mechanical systems. One common method is grease lubrication, where a specific type and amount of grease are applied to the bearing surfaces to reduce friction and wear. This method is suitable for low to moderate-speed applications and offers good sealing properties to prevent contamination and retain lubricant within the bearing.

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Additionally, oil lubrication allows for more precise control of lubricant flow and temperature regulation. Both methods require careful consideration of factors such as bearing type, operating conditions, and maintenance schedules to ensure optimal performance and reliability of the bearings.

CASE STUDY ABOUT CRB MISALIGNED IN A GEARBOX- BEARING FAILURE ANALYSIS

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#bearing maintenance training #bearings services #bearing failure analysis report #bearing training course #bearing and lubricant maintenance #bearing reliability #bearing maintenance #bearing failure analysis

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caravanmarketing · 2 years ago

Text

CASE STUDY ABOUT CRB MISALIGNED IN A GEARBOX- BEARING FAILURE ANALYSIS

Caravan Reliabilty team facing an real issue related to Bearing Failure.

A Customer using gearbox in his paper plant application was informed about a bearing problem while routine vibration analysis by a 3rd party agency and could not specifically identify the real issue.

Later the same customer approached us to identify what was wrong in his gearbox.

After detailed bearing failure analysis is made, we will find the CRB was running misaligned and NO Rollers or the Rings was showing any sign of misalignment unless the Cage showed up.

Even after handling 150+ Bearing failure cases, its very tricky to identify the real problem unless we do a detailed investigation. Now we know what to do next.

Know more about our Training and courses, for analysis your work failures.

#bearing failure analysis #training on machine maintenance #machine preventive maintenance training #preventive and predictive maintenance training

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multifacetic · 8 days ago

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afternoon, everyone! or morning, evening, depending on wherever you are on beyonce’s green earth. please call me anwar (not hadid, s/th, est), and i bring to you ansong’s favorite yuppie, nagano shunsuke, who is also not beating the unc allegations. under the cut is a surplus of biographical information and as always, feel free to like and i’ll contact you! 🤞

alrighttttyyy so some bg information: nagano shunsuke’s a fourth gen zainichi born korean from japan’s kansai region! meaning that the catalyst to rightfully blame was jp’s colonial occupation of the korean peninsula which drove his familial predecessors to migrate forcefully as laborers. i’d say that shun’s great grandparents on his father’s side were 1st gen migrants but they didn’t live long enough for him to know them growing up so…… in seo yeongju we trust (dearest halmeoni)

as a result of worker’s + economic exploitation and various social matters concerning the zainichi korean community in japan, shun basically grew up poor. lower class to lower middle (on a good year). it was very difficult to move up in one’s career due to ethnic discrimination and the work environment was often shitty and hazardous. so that paired with his father’s alcoholism (likely a physically + emotionally abusive father who cheated on his wife Btw) which stemmed from the fragility/stress/turmoil of his maintenance mechanic job including rearing a family with a woman he no longer loves because she’s not attractive to him after bearing his children is… uh.. Something.

and of course to make matters worse, after ww2, the japanese gov snatched jp citizenships from the zainichi community and made them foreigners/aliens to the country and later as stateless individuals (so anywhere from 1947-52) :-) imagine the stress shun’s fam had and Now they’ve been declared as 100000% displaced peoples. the naganos were outed after years of quietly assimilating with the japanese gov outing them alien registration statuses which made life even harder. so it’s safe to say that shun’s developmental growth lacked as he was often singled out, left behind, or neglected as a minority child growing up and slowly began to resent his own identity

seo yeongju, shun’s grandma dies and that shit hurt him so much ‘cause she was basically his mother and performed most of the emotional support if not childrearing because his actual mother is too occupied with trying to save her loveless marriage. yeongju is p important to him in that maternal aspect, but also she migrated from seosan, korean peninsula to shikoku as a young girl so again, more nagano family ancestral lore

but ofc things end up looking somewhat positive when shun gets into baseball mostly to avoid his abusive father at home lol being in the same room with that man sent him into a deep ballistic rage that no kid should be subjected but Anyways. pops saw potential with son so he began training with shun and their bond.. sort of.. got better and closer between father and son. wallahi not that playing fucking baseball is gonna answer the question of abuse but there’s that

shun ends up enrolling to osaka university on an athlete’s scholarship because otherwise his ass has no money to go to school, neither does his family and even now higher education for most zainichi koreans is basically almost unthought of???? so YEAHH shunsuke goes to school majoring in finance and economics but who gives a damn bc he’s trying to make it in the major league with drafts coming up. unfortunately tho bro gets a Really Bad elbow injury that he got 2 surgical operations for so… he’s cooked. he’s done for. just put the fries in the bag lil bro

haha jus’ kidding but yeah his dream is fucking cooked but it’s fine (not really) / shun ends up becoming his family’s 1st gen university graduate which is a big fucking deal because zainichi koreans were typically denied access to education. but even after graduation, shun had a hard time getting a job due to stigmatized discrimination, competitive job markets/outlets, etc.. and his official transcripts (lmao in case of hiring managers of companies decided to request them but they wouldn’t ask japanese applicants now would they?) were ass because he was greatly depressed working thru 3rd-4th yr of uni after the shitty injury. it seems that he just can’t win: works 7488548 crappy jobs and kept the restaurant dishwashing + hotel receptionist gig for a minute until…….. mizuho trust & bank gives him a call back for an interview!! and he gets an entry level investment banker job!! WE ALL CHEERED

life is looking a lot more positively: got a great paying job, the economy was flourishing in 80s japan, his (then) girlfriend and him are looking to move in together—it seems like nagano shunsuke is on top of the world fr. but allah’s timing is always strange and unrelenting as shunsuke unfortunately dies in a plane crash in fall of ‘88 with his gf on the way to yeosu for the week of chuseok. it was the first time traveling outside the country, let alone the first time visiting the homeland

so what’s next?

well 4 starters: he remembers absolutely nothing in regards to his past life. he’s your friendly bilingual financial advisor that lives on floor 8/unit 6. he lives a comfortable life of routine and prioritizes balance in his life. he’d look at you crazy if you told him his entire life story which is ^ above when he was alive. but surely…. something has got to be explained here. as in what’s going on and is he fr dead or like. not. u know

personality

i did mention that shun’s rather friendly! is always looking giving people and things a benefit of a doubt but once he’s been proven otherwise then yeah, there’s no going back. a bit of a yapper from time to time but it needs to be with the right person, otherwise why would he be yapping to someone who’s just gonna give him the lead paint stare….. also a lot more sensitive than he lets on (read: pisces moon) and is awfully in tune to his emotions + sensitivity but that’s none of your business. quick to get pissed off if something rubs him the wrong way too??? as in don’t underestimate his kindness and generosity among other things that’ll piss him off for reasons idk yet?? all crass and smart ass behavior, loves inoffensive banter, sometimes is too quick to say what’s on his mind before giving it a Good Thought (read: gemini sun, gemini mercury), u know the vibessss

connections

ok my bad for not thinking of relationship plots but i do have this wanted connection here in case if somebody’s looking to take up a 2nd/3rd chara. otherwise i love brainstorming!

#ansong:intro #i think i covered errythang.. if not i’ll likely yap away on d*scord

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ranchclan · 7 days ago

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Map of the local territory and a closeup of the Ranchclan camp

1 | the barn

Previously Honeystar and Robinclover’s home, the hayloft now serves as the leaders den. Overlooking the territory, It stays warm and dry, while the mice and rats gather in the cluttered rooms below. It’s a great place for apprentices on their first hunt.

2 | elders den and cleric den

What seems to be the skeleton of a smooth silver monster, long since dead and discarded by twolegs. In its core the clan has made use of the shelter it provides, filling one side with straw and moss for a spacious elder’s den- or rather, Robinclover’s den, since he refuses to retire. The other side has been claimed by the clerics, as they make perfect use of its abandoned counters, cleaning herbs and filling moss balls with the clean water that drips year round from one of the beasts leaky metal arteries.

3 | the nursery

Sometime in the past, twolegs kept rabbits in this black fortress. It requires a jump to enter and exit, ensuring no wandering kits until they’re old enough to reach. In emergencies, the metal door can be swung closed, safely enclosing kits and elders away from any threat.

4 | warriors den

A rectangular beast, with walls so thick not even a bear could penetrate them. Warriors enter and exit through a single rusted spot in the corner. Little light enters the space, and it is cluttered with debris of twolegs. Wood shelves inside have been carefully cleared over the years, saving only the things the clan could use.

5 | the doghouse

Inside unfortunately still reeks of dog, but the space stays insulated and warm all winter. It also provides access into the training yard, which consists of stinky black rubber mounds that apprentices use to practice mock battles, train their dexterity, or show their fighting prowess in the sand pit.

6 | herb spiral

A spiral of stones, filled with soil and herbs. Left behind by twolegs, this little garden has become a vital source of medicine for the clerics. Kits often chase the frogs that gather in the small pond at the spiral’s base.

7 | the gardens

Have grown wild with neglect over time, but the paths are outlined and cobbled, and provide layers of shelter in areas where raspberry brambles have taken over. Attracts abundant prey including mice, voles, robins, jays and quail. Occasionally a passing deer, but they rarely cause any problems.

7.5 | the cathedral

A ring of willow trees weaved together over time have begun to swallow an old metal bench. When Ranchclan was really small, they’d hold meetings in the enclosed space. Many got their first introduction to Ranchclan here. Despite the clan’s efforts, the sparkling line of twoleg lights that appear every night here are still a mystery, though they have gathered that it requires a certain amount of good weather. The lights seem shy on stormy days. Clovers grow wild here in the spring and require maintenance by apprentices to keep the bees from swarming the area during their blooms. The flowers make great rabbit bait, so no part of the plant is wasted.

8 | the greenhouse

A clear den that amplifies the heat inside. Cats sunbathe in here all the time, especially elders and cats sick with fever. A bowl of water and herbs can be placed inside on a hot day to increase humidity in the den and help cats with clearing stuffy airways if they’ve caught a cough.

#Clangen #warriors #Ranchclan #Ranchclan maps

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seeminglyranch87 · 1 year ago

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Taylor & Travis Timeline

September 2023 - part 2

September 18 - Sports commentator, Rich Eisen, posts a video to instagram of him making Taylor Swift song references during Travis' training (x). “Look what you made me do, @killatrav.”

"The injury, one would think is delicate. He's been able to shake it off"

Travis replies

"Well played Rich... Well played 👏🏻😂"

September 19 - Taylor dine at Via Carota Italian Restaurant, NYC with Sophie Turner and friends (x). A diner shares her observations (x). Did Taylor receive a text from Travis? They later moved on to Temple Bar , NYC

Travis Kelce speaks with Kristen Cavallari on her podcast Let's Be Honest where they talk dating. Travis says he is not interested dating someone "high maintenance" but the "initial spark is always fun" and looking for a partner "based on how kind hearted and sweet like my mother is" and they need to "have some sweetness to you" (x)

“To really dive into a relationship with somebody I feel like it’s going to take at least, I don’t know, it’s going to take some time,” Kelce said. “It’s not going to be immediate because, the stuff I’ve been through, just in my past, I feel like you really gotta know somebody to take that step and really be committed and be in full-throttle. I can’t just meet somebody and just automatically think that forever is just a day away … I think it takes quite a bit of time for somebody to really get to know somebody and really get to find that affection and love for them.” When asked if feels any sort of pressure about settling down, Kelce said he is “living my life” and is hopeful that when the time comes, everything falls into place. “I like to believe that all of that stuff will come genuine and natural and I won’t have to think about getting into that part of my life ahead of time, the stars will align, I guess,” he said.

September 20 - Jason Kelce, on the WIP morning show, is asked about the Taylor and Travis rumours, and he responds

"Its hard to answer because I don't really know a lot about what's happening in Travis' love life... but having said that, I think he's doing great and I think its all 100% true, and i hope this thing goes a mile - no I'm joking, I don't know what's happening."

(x 0:30)

September 21 - Travis, on the Pat McAfee show, says he thought it was "hilarious" how much traction the situation had, saying

“I threw the ball in her court... I told her I’ve seen you rock the stage in Arrowhead, you might have to come see me rock a stage in Arrowhead and see which one is a little more lit. We’ll see what happens in the near future”

So at this point it's obvious that arrangements had been made for Taylor to attend Travis' next game at Arrowhead Stadium, on Sept 24th. (x)

The Messenger publishes an article (x) Aol (x)

"She and Travis have hung out twice, and it's nothing serious. She thinks he is very charming, and they have been texting this last week," the insider exclusively tells The Messenger. "He is a little embarrassed at how much attention they are getting, but he has told her he would love to continue seeing her. Furthermore, the insider said the two are “seeing where things go.”

On Twitter:

September 22 - At his Kelce Car Jam (x), Travis is seen wearing a 'Vigilante Sh*t' friendship bracelet, given to him by a swiftie at the event (x)

September 24 - Chiefs v Chicago Bears, Arrowhead Stadium, Kansas City. The Chiefs defeat the Bears 41 - 10.

The day Taylor and Travis broke the internet. Taylor enters Arrowhead Stadium with Travis’ friends (x) Taylor is seen with Travis' mum, Donna, in Travis' suite at Arrowhead Stadium. During the game, Travis gets a touchdown and Taylor reaction goes viral, as she's seen hi-5ing, chest bumping, yelling and banging on the glass. Notably, her reaction receives more airtime than the actual plays of the match and it makes international news. After the game, Taylor and Travis drive off in his convertible and have dinner together at the Prime Social Rooftop. After this, the two reportedly celebrate with the team and leave the venue between 1am and 2am. (x seemingly ranch origins)

Taylor & Travis leave Arrowhead stadium together after the game (x)

Travis & Taylor drive off together in a convertible - no security in sight (x)

Travis and Taylor were seen arriving at 8:45pm to Prime Social, KC and drinking together & showing lots PDA according to others present at the invite only occasion (x)

TMZ posts a photo of Taylor and Travis after the game (x).

Travis and Taylor were seen arriving at 8:45pm and showing lots PDA according to others present at the invite only occasion (x)

September 25 - Details come out about Taylor and Travis' night after the game. A source tells ET (x) (x)

"Travis bought out the restaurant for his family and team. Taylor arrived, wearing a denim dress, and was seen snacking, having some cocktails and dancing alongside Travis. The two were very affectionate with one another but kept things fun and lighthearted. Travis' teammates also showed up to the after-party, as well as his mom and dad, Donna and Ed. The party lasted until 2 a.m."

In another article ET report (x)

A source confirms to ET that the pair had spent some time together prior to their public debut at Sunday's game, telling ET, "Travis and Taylor have a lot in common and they are having a great time getting to know each other. They have similar values. She likes that he pursued her and it has been easy and exciting for both of them." Having just wrapped the first leg of her Eras World Tour, the source adds, "Taylor is enjoying some time off from touring and it’s been fun hanging out with Travis during this break. Taylor wants a guy that’s into his career, does his own thing, but is also supportive and understands her, and Travis fits those qualities."

Coach Reid of the KC Chiefs, when asked about Taylor Swift, jokingly says (x 5:57)

"I set them up."

New England Patriots head coach Bill Belichick, a noted Swift fan who attended the Eras Tour at Gillette Stadium said (x) (x)

"Travis Kelce has had a lot of big catches in his career, this would be the biggest."

In the days following September 24th, the term 'the Taylor Swift effect' is used frequently to describe the unique impact Taylor has on culture, media, and football in particular. (x) (x) The official NFL tiktok and twitter pages change their name and image to reference Taylor's appearance at the game, also tweeting a video of the two of them with the caption "two goats".

September 26 - Taylor is seen leaving Kansas City in her plane "2 days after attending Travis Kelce's Chiefs game" (x)

People publishes an article (x)

"They're just hanging out, and there's no pressure," a source tells People after Swift attended the Kansas City Chiefs' game on Sunday

The source says the pair are still in the "super, super early days" of getting to know one another.

"They're having fun," adds the insider, noting that Swift and Kelce had met prior to her attendance at the game. "This was Taylor's first time meeting his mom and dad, and everyone was enjoying themselves. She was super chill and low-key hanging out with his friends and family."

September 27 - Ep55 S2 of the New Heights podcast airs. Travis and Jason mention that the podcast has reached 1 million followers on youtube (a big jump from the 800k followers they had the week prior). Travis addresses all the excitement around Taylor attending the game and expresses his gratitude that she was there, whilst still respecting Taylor's privacy. Jason fills Travis in on the "400% increase" in Travis Kelce jersey sales (x) (x)

Jason Kelce goes on the 94WIP Morning Show and responds to the media frenzy around Taylor attending Travis' game, saying (x)

"My reaction was exactly... this is exactly what I think is going to happen. She's going to go to the game and the world is going to lose their g*ddamn mind"

In response to another question about the nature of Taylor and Travis' relationship, Jason says (x)

"I would say with this one, it definitely seems like he is going above and beyond to be a gentleman."

Heinz debut a 'Ketchup and Seemingly Ranch' flavour after Taylor inspired the viral tweet with her choice of game snack. (x) (x) (x) Vogue also mention 'seemingly ranch' (x)

September 28 - Mark Cuban on First Take says Taylor should break up with Travis and date one of the Dallas Mavericks. Travis tweets a reply (x)

i.e. let me join the Mavericks for 10 days and she will be dating one of your players... he can and will fight

Jordan Schultz, NFL insider, says that Taylor plans to attend the Chiefs vs Jets game (at Metlife Stadium on October 1) to watch Travis play for the second time. (x) (x)

A video and photo is published by the Daily Mail of Taylor from September 24. She is seen with Travis' friends and family as they leave his house and head to the Chiefs game. The footage appears to be taken from a neighbours doorbell camera, hence due to its intrusive nature I will not be posting it.

September 30 - A tweet is posted stating that Donna, Travis' mum, confirmed "two weeks ago" that Travis and Taylor were dating. Presumably the Eagles vs Vikings game on September 14 (x)

Taylor is seen attending Inez Reynolds' birthday party with Blake and Ryan

Travis was rumoured to have visited Taylor at her NYC apartment this afternoon (x). Travis was seen returning to his hotel being dropped off by Taylor's security (x)

Later that day, Taylor went out for a girls night with Blake, Sophie, Melanie, Brittany, Ashley, Robyn Lively, and others at Emilio’s Ballato Italian restaurant in NYC (x) (x)

Travis went out for dinner with his team to Meduza Mediterrania. He is photographed returning to the team's hotel by 11pm (their curfew)

Go to previous update -> September 2023 Part 1

Go to next update -> October 2023 Part 1

Return to the timeline

#taylor swift #travis kelce #taylor and travis #87 and 89 #taylor swift and travis kelce #traylor #killatrav #seemingly ranch #timeline #tayvis #87 + 13 = 100 #taylor and travis timeline #T&T #swelce #kc chiefs #chiefs kingdom #TnT #TNT

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animalsalvationassociation · 3 days ago

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A.S.A. Octonauts Headcanons:

Pt. 4 — Barnacles Pt. 2: (Adulthood)

Barnacles & the Navy:

The Navy was a large part of Barnacle’s life for a very long time.

He worked hard to make sure things ran smoothly with every crew and team he worked with.

Believe it or not it was hard for Barnacles to make friends at first.

Everyone saw him as this large and pretty scary guy, but once they began to see him outside of things not related to training they actually found that he was probably the sweetest and most considerate guy you’ve ever met!

After a few years Barnacles would climb the ranks until he was the captain of his own ship. The S.S. Adelaide. A beautiful ship that rode the waters like a knife through butter, but with the gun power that put an entire fleet to shame.

This is where he met Kwazii.

Now Kwazii was only an Ensign at the time, moved over from another crew when there was an opening on the Adelaide. But when they first met it was clear Kwazii was holding himself back. Now mind you he was an excellent soldier, and thrived in his duties of keeping order within each team. But there was something off about him.

After some months of observation the captain decided to sit him down and figure out what was going on. Barnacles needed his crew to be at their best, and this was one of the only ways he knew how.

Poor Kwazii was more nervous than a fish caught on a line, but once the captain made him comfortable and showed how safe he really was, Kwazii confessed what was wrong.

Note: Y’know how Kwazii is always mentioning his “Pirate Days”? Well it turns out that his “Pirate Days” were actually references to his squadron. Appropriately named “The Pirates”.

It turns out that one of the reasons he left his last crew was because there was an . . . accident. Kwazii was slow to confess it but it was clear this was the real reason he had been so aloof.

The Pirates were known to be one of those squads that escorted and guarded scientific parties to and from their respective locations. Along the way of helping these research teams his team would run off any troublemakers (local gangs, regional military) that caused the scientists any grief. They earned their name after an endeavor where they had to actually steal an entire lab in order to save the research that in turn had already been stolen by the local government.

From then on that’s what they were known by and they made the very dangerous decision to live up to that name.

But it turns out, a month before Kwazii joined the Greatsail, his squadron had been attacked and he was one of the only remaining survivors to make it out.

It was hard to move on from what Barnacles learned. Whether it was the protective brother/papa bear living inside him, he couldn’t help but not think about it. Kwazii had lost his squad, his family. And in terms of bloodline Kwazii’s didn't exist either. It broke his heart.

Now Barnacles isn’t one to meddle in people’s personal lives, but he is one to make sure that everyone feels included.

Every chance he got he made sure to allow Kwazii the space to feel comfortable. His door was always open, and Kwazii was no exception.

Thankfully he didn’t have to wait long for Kwazii to start showing his true colors. And Barnacles wasn’t the only reason~

The Kelp Family:

Barnacles was much younger when he first met Professor Jade and her crew. In fact he was just starting out in his new roles when they were invited to the ship.

At the time, the Octonauts were still pretty young as an organization but had proved themselves greatly. Professor Jade was there to go over terms and procedures with the captain while they traveled through the ship’s route. But it wasn’t the professor that caught his attention when they arrived but the young girl she brought with her.

Barnacles was performing maintenance on the lower levels when a little girl showed up looking very interested in what he was doing. She had actually been tremendously quiet, to the point where he didn’t even know she was there until she had tugged on his sleeve nearly giving him a panic attack.

This had been the very first time he had met Emma, but it definitely wouldn’t be the last. From then on whenever Professor Jade or one of the other Octonauts showed up for reports, Emma would tag along right with them. No matter how dangerous the waters were that day, he could count on her being there.

It was quite sweet actually, and even though she was still a child they grew to be great friends. Barnacles was the first one she’d find as soon as they landed. If you asked, he’d say she was his greatest little helper. Following him like a little duck, insistent on carrying his tools or his clipboard. The crew grew fond of her too and soon enough it was all anyone could talk about whenever someone mentioned the Octonauts.

Years drew on and through little Emma (who seemed to grow before their eyes) the Octonauts found themselves a part of any crew they came into contact with, even if they were more often than not away saving the ocean.

As mentioned before, it wasn’t only Barnacles that got Kwazii to smile again. It was Emma and her family. They weren’t serious for some time, in fact Emma and Kwazii didn’t start dating until after he had joined the Octonauts. Before that, all he really needed was a friend. (Ref. Post)

Joining the Octonauts:

Professor Inkling was the one to approach Barnacles with the title of Captain. It was a few months after Samara Jade had passed and it was clear that the original crew of the Octopod weren’t going to return to action any time soon.

Inkling had done everything in his power to rally them, offering to find a new captain to lead the team. But the burden was too much. The Octonauts were still in mourning, and that’s when they came to a singular agreement. They would disband.

Barnacles had been the first Captain that came to anyone’s mind when Inkling went searching. He fit every standard: strength, agility, leadership, kindness, and best of all . . . his heart. If anyone was going to lead a new crew, it would be Barnacles.

But even if he was qualified, in all technicality, Professor Jade had been his friend. He had watched her daughter grow up and become a woman. He had worked alongside her for years. To take her title would mean . . . taking her place? Would that mean she was truly gone?

Inkling may have been the one to approach him with the offer, but it was Marin Kelp, Samara’s husband, who gave Barnacles his blessing.

The transition was hard for everyone, and it didn’t help that Barnacles had to start from the very beginning. At that point he didn’t even have a crew. What was he supposed to do without one?

Thankfully he wasn’t alone. Kelp and Inkling were more than happy to search for willing candidates who could take place on the crew. Several months went with many interviews, and after all that time finally they were able to add to fill the roles needed.

The Crew:

First they would need a mechanic, someone to fix the ship whenever it needed repair. Kelp had sources from one of Emma’s close friends, he was a ranger who worked under a man named Marsh in the Everglades. Apparently Marsh’s daughter had a gift for building massive machines that could take on high intensive tasks. Kelp hired her before she even said hello.

Then they needed an IT Officer. They found her in California attempting to become a programmer for the government. Not mentioning her feats in intensive watersports including her world class champion status in surfing.

The scientist roles were easy to fill. There was a Scottsman, a Marine Biologist–young enough for his age–who had personally studied under Professor Inkling for over a year and would take his place, allowing Inkling to retire. (Though we all know that never stopped Inkling from leaving the Octonauts)

And lastly, an ambitious young student from South America who was only a week away from graduating. A penguin with a heart of gold who would take the role as Medical Officer.

Now all they needed . . . was a Lieutenant.

Unfortunately when Barnacles left his position on the Adelaide his lower ranking officers would step up and take his place. Besides that, as grateful as they were, they had no interest in taking on such endeavors. They served the navy, that was their life. And no amount of money was going to convince them either, Kelp may or may not have already tried that.

So they kept on, but the longer they waited the harder it was to find. Barnacles’ new role was coming fast, the crew they had picked was being trained as he prepared for their first launch. But somehow the news had spread before it had even been announced, earning some very unwanted attention. To this day no one is sure how the information was leaked, only a select few were allowed full access and even then some details were limited.

In any case, Barnacles set off on his way home. His sister had just graduated and he was intent on celebrating with her and his family.

They were only a few hours from the dock when he was attacked. It was one of the scariest encounter he had ever experienced, but thankfully for him, he wasn’t alone. In fact, he had an escort . . . Kwazii. (Ref. Post)

It was because of Kwazii that Barnacles survived that day. If the captain hadn’t asked Kwazii to help him on his way home, who knows what would’ve happened?

Of course they made it out, earning a very warm welcome when they got home. But that was the day Barnacles realized that Kwazii might’ve been the Lieutenant he was searching for all along . . .

Fun Facts:

He LOVES the color blue.

He's a romantic at heart, you can't tell me he's not.

That being said . . . Rom Coms and Historical Romances all the way baby!!! He EATS that stuff up! Barnacles adores Jane Austen's work. His favorite movies are "You've Got Mail" & "Legally Blonde".

Admiral Sweaty Sock was a childhood coping mechanism. When he was little the admiral was the only one who would talk to him besides his sister.

Professor Natquik taught him the accordion but when he joined the navy he lost his ability to play. That’s why he’s so shaky at it now.

Barnacles actually loves to sing. His voice isn’t as well trained but it never stops him from enjoying a perfectly good tune.

(He gets a lot of ear worms. Hence his habit of singing, humming, or even whistling. Dashi likes to put on music in the HQ while they’re working, she totally does this on purpose because she enjoys his voice)

His favorite vessel is the Gup-C. Not only because it's a classic ;) , but at the time of the first season it was the biggest gup, and I feel like it would’ve been great for his claustrophobia.

When the crew first started out Barnacles would use the steering wheel. He eventually stopped when Tweak updated the systems to have automatic steering which Dashi of course controlled.

Barnacles doesn’t have too many hobbies, and until Above and Beyond he doesn’t really have time for them. But when Barnacles finds that he has less and less duties to fulfill he starts making his own.

I want to say that he aspires to be a crafter. I see him (even with his massive hands) taking up small collectable hobbies.

It would probably start with photo albums, then scrapbooking, and eventually adding even smaller collections to those. Little shells, pretty rocks, cool fossils. Anything he can get his hands on in every area, as long as it isn’t harming the ecosystem or any of the creatures. (Because I’m sure the hermit crabs would have a thing or two to say to him if he picked up the wrong shell.)

During Above and Beyond he definitely picks up his accordion again and maybe he starts writing his own songs (sea shanties anyone??)

Kwazii / Captain Barnacles ( 1 / 2 ) / Peso / Dashi / Tweak / Shellington / Inkling

[ This is a Octonauts AU, in no way is this canon to the OG storyline. ]

(Lol sorry this took so long. I was hoping to get this posted before work but I had to go in a few hours early. Anyways I'm gonna pop in bed now since I have the day off "tomorrow" (lol it's almost 2am for me).

Pt. 5 is coming, hopefully I can get it done today??? Who's it gonna be about?? Well our favorite Dachshund ofc!!! aNyWaYs, good night my dears! I'll see you soon! Let me know your thoughts in the comments below!)

#octonauts #octonauts story #octonauts above and beyond #octonauts the asa #octonauts redesigns #octonauts redesign #captain barnacles #octonauts barnacles #octonauts captain barnacles

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opera-ghosts · 3 months ago

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How to Become a Successful Singer

HINTS ON THE CULTIVATION OF THE VOICE.

By ENRICO CARUSO.

It has often struck me, in a lengthy experience as a singer, that there is one point in particular about the human voice which is far too little appreciated by the rising generation of aspiring vocalists, and that is its wonderful reciprocity. Tend it, nurse it, "feed it on a proper diet," and it will invariably comport itself in the most amiable manner possible. But neglect it, treat it as an organ which is best left to look after itself, and the voice will at once, in revenge for this callous behaviour, retaliate by behaving itself in a manner which is perhaps best described as of the "hooliganistic" order.

And yet, as an actual fact, but a very small percentage indeed of would-be singers ever really seem to think it worth their while to bear in mind this axiom, for axiom it surely is, that the voice requires proper care and proper exercise to keep it in its best form just as much as is a certain amount of exercise necessary to the maintenance of good health in every human being.

Unfortunately, however, there would seem to be a prevalent impression among many amateur and not a few professional singers that singing is an art which can be acquired in quite a short time. Thus, is it not curious that while many students of the piano or the violin will willingly devote years of strenuous and conscientious practice to the study of the technique of these instruments, would-be singers frequently seem to expect to learn how to use their voice to the best advantage after a period of vocal practice extending, maybe, over a year or so, but more often even over only a few months? This policy, I need scarcely remark, is absolutely ruinous to the future careers of young singers, for no matter how naturally talented any individual vocalist may be, he or she cannot possibly produce the best results as a singer unless the particular organs brought into play in the process of singing have been subjected to a proper and sufficiently long course of training. Since the days of the old Italian masters there can be no shadow of doubt that, musically, we have advanced considerably; but sometimes, when I think of the rather slipshod methods of cultivating the voice advocated by many so-called "professors" to-day, the thought impresses itself on my mind that the detailed principles of the old Italian masters who, above all other considerations, insisted on a long course of voice training as being the only possible means to the attainment of the best art, possessed more to recommend them than do many of the modern "artifices" of voice-cultivation proffered by many teachers of singing to-day.

In a short article, of course, it is obviously impossible to go in detail into all the rules which should be observed by singers who are prepared to undertake the task of cultivating their voices on a conscientious and sound basis. At the same time, I hope to be able to suggest various hints and wrinkles which should prove of real value to aspiring singers.

In the first place, therefore, let me say at once that it is the most fatal of all errors for a singer to make too much use of the voice, for the muscles of the larynx are so delicate that they cannot possibly stand the strain of the "learn-to-sing-in-a-hurry" methods of those who hope to attain the highest point of proficiency without devoting sufficient time to that "drudgery" which is absolutely essential to the real and perfect cultivation of the voice.

For this all-important reason I would counsel singers to see to it at all times that in the early days of their training they do not devote too much time to practice. If they will take my advice, until they become thoroughly proficient in "managing" the voice—a happy state of affairs which can only be acquired after long practice—they will at first never devote more than fifteen minutes a day—in the early morning is, perhaps, the best time—to practice. I can readily realise that this must seem a very short time to enthusiasts who are willing to give up all their spare time to the study of voice cultivation, but it is, nevertheless, quite long enough, for the slightest strain put upon the voice may retard a singer's progress by months, while, on the other hand, as I pointed out at the beginning of this article, if the singer will only bear in mind that the voice requires the most careful "nursing" of perhaps all the organs, and must on no account be strained, he will soon find that, though he may not be aware of any improvement in it, his voice is, nevertheless, slowly but surely improving and gaining in strength through his gradually-growing knowledge of technique.

Another point in the cultivation of the voice which I often think is not sufficiently strongly emphasised to-day is the fact that young singers can improve their methods in the most extraordinarily rapid manner by studying the methods of other and more experienced singers. In singing, as in the cultivation of the other arts, in time the student will get what he works for, but it is surely unreasonable for him to expect to sing effectively by his own inspiration. He will be wise, therefore, to seize every opportunity of studying as closely as possible the methods of those who have thoroughly mastered the technique of singing. For true art, of course, there must be more than technique, but I would point out that in singing there is no art without sound methods of execution, which, after all, to all intents and purposes constitute technique. In the cultivation of expression, technique, and sympathy in the voice, there is no better teacher than "a visit to the opera." Still, I make no doubt that of the hundreds of aspiring singers who visit the opera during the season but very few indeed would care to go through the years of drudgery as conscientiously as have those who seem to sing so easily and to combine the art of acting and singing at the same time with equal facility. After all, the highest art lies in the concealment of that art, and I take it that it is because a really proficient opera singer accomplishes his performance with such apparent ease that the difficulties of operatic singing are so little appreciated.

Still, as I have said, I am strongly of the opinion that young singers can learn much from studying the methods of operatic vocalists, that is to say, when they have mastered the rudiments of voice cultivation, into which I need not enter here, for my object is rather to show singers various methods by which they can attain the highest art when they have served a sufficient apprenticeship under masters whose duty it is to teach them the elementary rules of singing.

For my own part, I find that a singer's life, with its constant rehearsals and performances, is such a busy one that not much opportunity is allowed him for indulging in outdoor exercise. Many other enthusiastic singers doubtless find themselves situated in very similar straits, not perhaps on account of their public engagements, but through the "calls" made upon their time by business, social, or domestic duties. In the cultivation of the voice, however, a certain amount of exercise is essential to good health, as, by the same token, is good health a sine quâ non to the attainment of the highest art in singing. It may be of service, therefore, if I explain the rules I observe when I find the calls upon my time too numerous to enable me to get as much exercise as I should otherwise like.

No matter how busy I am, when I rise in the morning I invariably indulge in a few simple physical exercises, similar in character to those I used to practise when, as a young man, the time came for me to serve my king and country as a soldato, or, if I feel that these are becoming monotonous, for a few minutes I find practice with a pair of dumb-bells—not too heavy, by the way—very beneficial. But save these mild forms of relaxation I have, as a rule, to rest content with, in the way of outdoor exercise, an occasional motor drive. Nevertheless, I would point out that, in itself, singing, with its constant deep inhalation, is by no means inconsiderable exercise, though, to be sure, I am well aware that it cannot be so health-giving in its effects as actual exercise in the open air.

Yes, past a doubt, young singers can learn much about the highest art of the cultivation of the voice from watching the knowledge of technique of our best operatic artists, and from observing their methods of "managing" the voice. Still, to thoroughly grasp the progress of the opera-singer's art, it will be necessary for students to appreciate the fact that Italian singing has had two important culminating periods, each of which was illustrated by a group of great singers, the first of which was made up of pupils of Bernacchi, Pistocchi, Francesca Cuzzoni, and other contemporary teachers. These great singers brought the art of bel canto to as near a state of perfection as has ever been known. But one has to remember the conditions under which they sang.

Thus Victor Maurel writes:—"In the days of the schools of the art of bel canto the masters did not have to take truth for expression (l'expression juste) into account, for the singer was not required to render the sentiments of the dramatis personæ with verisimilitude; all that was demanded of him was harmonious sounds, the bel canto." In other words, all that the singer had to do was to sing, for the emotions themselves had not to be portrayed, the psychical character of the dramatis personæ not being taken into account.

In consequence, the perfection of the singer's voice was but slightly interfered with, as, at most, he had little or no acting to do, a conventional oratorical gesture or two being considered quite sufficient for the fashion of the period. And it is scarcely necessary to remark that the great singers of this period were skilful enough musicians to prevent such unimportant gestures, which hardly deserve the dignity of the name of acting, from being an obstacle to the high quality of their singing.

In the second period of Italian singing, however, the period which coincides with the Rossini-Donizetti-Bellini period of opera in its heydey, the conditions, we find, were greatly altered. The music at this time was at once more dramatic and more scenic, and although the singing was still bel canto, the opera singer of the period was called upon not only to sing well, but to sing dramatically, though it must be said that the music itself provided larger scope for the actor's art, in that it gave more favourable opportunity for specialising and differentiating the emotions.

In "The Opera Past and Present" we find the following intensely interesting allusion to these two great culminating periods of Italian singing:—"A comparison of these two periods of Italian singing indicates the direction matters have taken with the opera singer from Handel's time to our own. From then to now he has had to face an ever-increasing accumulation of untoward conditions; his professional work has become more and more complicated. From Rossini's time down to this the purely musical difficulties he has had to face have been constantly on the increase—complexity of musical structure, rhythmic complications, hazardous intonations.

"He has to fight against the more and more brilliant style of instrumentation, often pushed to a point where the greatest stress of vocal effort is required of him to make himself heard above the orchestral din; more and better acting is demanded of him, he finds the vague generalities of histrionism no longer of avail; for these must make way for a highly specialised, real-seeming dramatic impersonation; intellectually and physically his task has been doubled and trebled. Above all, the sheer nervous tension of situations and music has so increased as to make due self-control on his part less easy. The opera singer's position to-day is verily no joke; he has to face and conquer difficulties such as the great bel cantists of the Handel period never dreamt of."

It has ever been my contention that the conscientious artist should carefully read and re-read the whole libretto, so as to inform himself of the poet's purpose and meaning in the construction and development of the plot, as well as to ever bear in mind his conception of the composer's idea of how the poetry and the various aspects of mind of the characters should be aptly and effectively musicked and interpreted so as to awaken a kindred, or appreciative, feeling in the minds of his hearers.

Besides this, the opera singer who aspires to rise to great heights must possess a keen nervous susceptibility, for only a man or woman of high nervous temperament can reasonably hope to succeed as a lyrico-dramatic artist. Again, in the great operas a most severe strain is placed upon the leading singers, for while they are portraying various emotions—-Love, Hate, Rage, or Laughter—they have, at the same time, to watch the conductor with most minute care lest they fail in time and rhythm.

In fine, though I think but few other than really conscientious students of singing entirely appreciate the fact, the opera-singer of to-day is called upon to possess a far greater knowledge of vocal technique than was ever demanded of him before in the history of singing, as those "good and golden days"—golden only to the moderate performer with but little ambition—when the singer who perhaps scarcely knew more than a few notes of music could, nevertheless, still arouse the plaudits of the public are gone—never to return.

I hope, by the way, that it will not be thought that I have entered too technically into the requirements demanded from an aspirant to operatic fame to-day. I scarcely think, however, that I can have done so, for I feel sure every really aspiring vocalist would prefer to know the exact heights to which he must cultivate his voice either on the operatic stage or concert platform, or even for the drawing-room, that is to say, if he is ever to make a great name for himself in preference to resting content to remain one of the "moderates," of which the musical profession is altogether already too full, not because there is a lack of singers with good voices, but largely, as I have always maintained, because there is a far too prevalent tendency amongst singers these days to shirk the real hard work which must be accomplished before lasting success can be attained.

In conclusion, in order to allow singers' voices to develop in a satisfactory manner, let me counsel them never to attempt those selections in public the range of which taxes and strains them to the utmost, for when a singer "exceeds" his proper range injury to the throat is always liable to follow. Better rather, therefore, is it that a song should be transposed to a lower key if a singer is determined to attempt it than that the voice should be unduly taxed.

And now I will say addio, though I would add that it is my sincere hope that some of the few hints I have given on the cultivation of the voice and of the heights of excellence to which ambitious singers should aspire may prove of real value to those with sufficient pluck to face the task of studying the art of the cultivation of the voice in a really conscientious manner. Hard work accomplishes wonders where the voice is concerned. Let me, therefore, counsel singers never to despair of attaining a state as near to perfection as possible, for it is those who are most alive to their own imperfections who will assuredly "go farthest" in the singing world.

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