#best thing to listen to while translating instruction sheets

[forgotten-daydreamer]

The woman who lives upstairs has been trying to make her toddler say "mamma" (mom in ITA) for the past hour and making the weirdest baby voices... I'm going to cry, it's so cute!! Ooh, I need to write Bruce dealing with babies asap - keep going, beloved neighbour, I need ideas.

[vesuvian-american-fics]

True Bloodlust Author's Cut 1

Content that didn't make it into the True Bloodlust Series! (AO3)

Stress Relief. lemon.

Words: 2,699

Feitan was due to be back from his mission any minute now. He’d been gone with Phinks for two weeks now across the map looking for the famed book New Continent Travelogue. An all you need to know guide to the Dark Continent. Chrollo, an avid reader of books wants to add that to his collection, and also use it to help us, The Phantom Troupe, on our way to the Dark Continent in the next year.

You begged Chrollo to let you accompany Feitan on this mission but Boss denied you as punishment for asking to go one every single mission Feitan would be away on. He was torturous waiting for the most exciting long-term mission to finally tell you no. You couldn’t help yourself. You wanted to practically be attached to Feitan’s hip at every moment, and he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed your neediness at times.

The one time that Feitan also asked the Boss to allow you to attend, he would be denied. It was a lonely two weeks but a few days ago Feitan finally sent word that they were heading back. He didn’t say much as per usual but he sounded irritated over the phone, hanging up before you could even respond.

You sent him a few texts and he responded the next morning, he was short in his replies but in the end, he reassured you that he wasn’t upset with you.

“C U. -From F” Was the last thing he said, in Feitan’s eyes that was him being affectionate and letting you know that he missed you and he was rushing back to be with you sooner. He showed his affection in different ways than what was traditional, but you were quick to translate his mannerisms and words. What was special for you and what was not. That would be an unnecessary text if he were talking to anybody else, but for you, it was a must. Your heart did flips as you shot him a text back.

“I’ll be waiting!!!  ^3^” That was two days ago and something in your bones tells you he’ll be back today. You woke up feeling giddy with butterflies fluttering in your chest frantically. You rushed to check his room since the sheets next to you were empty, but he wasn’t quite home yet. Which was okay, this gave you time to get yourself ready for his arrival to tend to him if he needed anything. You knew what to expect.

The two of you would spend time alone together in his bedroom, taking a warm bath together before getting ready for bed early. But two weeks was a long time, so you expecting something else might happen tonight. Especially taking into consideration his foul mood, he’ll want to release some steam. You blushed feverishly as you imagined what would happen this time.

Would he use the whips like before? Or the spreader bar paired with the ball gag? You squeezed your thighs together at the thought, groping your chest as you stifled the moan that fought to slip past your lips. Oh, how you wanted him to return soon so he could take his frustrations out on you in the best way possible. Pain mixed with pleasure just the way you liked.

Just then, you were startled from your thoughts by commotion in the main room, you heard phinks arguing with Uvogin about the book. Sounds like they couldn’t find it, that explain Fei’s mood. You chuckled to yourself before walking down the hallway to join the conversation.

When you entered, you and Feitan shared eye contact, you gave him a small smile and he gave a short nod to acknowledge it. Phinks was riled up from Uvo’s taunts about losing the book to some Ging Freecs.. Whoever that is. You were a hunter but you never really kept up with the head honchos of Hunter Society.

Uvogin barked with laughter, the sound assaulting Feitan’s sensitive ears, he scowled before stomping away towards you. As he passed your form he allowed his finger to trace your silhouette before he continued on, waiting for you to scamper after him. You were hot on his heels and that pleased him, two weeks without seeing you throughout the day was an odd change for Feitan. Since you joined the troupe Feitan spent a lot of time with you, and this had gone on for close to a year now. Soon, the two of you will set off on your own until the next time the Troupe is gathered before setting off to the Dark Continent. Feitan often wondered about what mischief you’d drag him into during this time. He was excited.

As the two of you reached Feitan’s chambers, Phinks jogged up the hallway to you out of breath and sweating. Your shoulders dropped; you could already imagine what Phinks needed from Fei before he even spoke.

“Fei! Boss needs us for the report.” he panted, rolling his neck to massage out the tension locked into his shoulders from weeks on the road. Feitan huffed from behind his bandana before turned to you and mumbling instructions.

“Start bath, wait for me in tub.” His index fingers caressed the back of your hand while his stone-cold eyes were locked to your lips. Reluctantly, Feitan turned on his heel and stomped off towards Chrollo’s office to get this meeting over and done with. You continued to watch as he walked further away and disappeared around the corner at the end of the hall.

Feitan was being more affectionate than usual already, it was nice.

Quickly you headed towards the washroom and starting running warm steamy water for the bath. Feitan loved the smell of eucalyptus on you, so while he was away you went into town and stole some bath salts with just that scent. You filled the tub then undressed, you tossed and tussled your hair to make it look nice and fluffy. You slipped into the bath, it was almost too hot but the sting of the heat felt nice. It also helped that it would cool down by the time Feitan arrived. You sighed and played with the bubbles lingering on the surface of the water while you waited patiently. Only about ten more minutes passed before your attention was drawn to Feitan’s soft foot falls on the floor in the bedroom.

You listened to the sounds of his heavy clothes hitting the floor, he unlaced his boots and kicked them off impatiently. He heaved one last sigh before you heard the bed creak as he stood from it and entered the washroom. His eyes softened when they landed on your form, your expression inviting him to the welcoming waters of the bath. He stepped in and you watched intently as his body disappeared beneath the water's surface, all save for his arms resting on the lip of the tub and his head hung back exposing his neck to you.

Taking that as a silent plea for touch, you crawled over his form and planted your lips on his jugular. You loved the way his Adam's apple bobbed and the feel of his pulse jumping in his artery. His head fell to the side as he lost himself in the feel of your mouth trailing kisses on his neck and shoulder. Today was a day Feitan wanted to be more in touch with his intimate, passionate side with you. Being away from you he realized, how in such little time he’d grown very accustomed to your touch, and without it, he grew quite irritable.

Tonight, he wanted to lose himself in you, communicating the way he felt not through words but through touch. Tender, delicate, touch.

Both of his smooth hands rubbed down your back slowly, the pads of his fingertips dancing along your spine. You hummed at the touch, having missed the way Feitan would rub over your skin during after care. Massaging away the welts bruises he inflicted upon you. His raised his thigh that you were straddling so nicely, one hand grabbing your hip with a firm grip leaving imprints of his fingertips on your skin. His other hand snaked to the base of your skull tangled in your hair, he lowered his lips to yours for a deep kiss.

You moaned into his mouth welcoming his tongue inside while you started to grind down on his thigh. Feitan kneaded at the flesh on your hips, pushing and pulling you in rhythm to your movements. Feitan groaned deep in his throat before he harshly grabbed you by the throat and pushed your lips away from him. He licked his lips as he eyes his hands squeezing on your esophagus, you grinned in sinfully at the lack of oxygen. This only spurred you on to ride his thigh harder chasing a climax, your moans were caught in your throat under his vice grip, before he finally loosened up to hear those lustful sounds escape your mouth.

That smirk you missed these last few weeks etched its way onto his features. You were panting now, riding his thigh in such a way that the water in the tub threatened to splash over. Noticing this, Feitan’s smile widened a fraction and he chuckled at the frenzied bucking of your hips. He held you tight until you stopped your movement, and when you did, he slipped from under your body and exited the tub, grabbing his towel and drying himself off. Leaving you alone in the washroom.

You pouted before draining the tub and drying yourself off with a towel as well. By now, you learned well not to enter the bedroom in your towel. Just present yourself how Feitan wants you... naked and wet.

Hair dripping, you stepped into the bedroom and stood at the foot of the bed. On display for Feitan’s calculated gaze. His eyes raked over every inch of you, from head to toe. Your plump chest, your stomach, your thighs, and most importantly that sweet spot right in between them.

Feitan lured you onto the bed, beckoning you forth with those “come hither” fingers you’ve come to love. Sensually, you climbed across the bed while Feitan welcomed you with open arms. He embraced you for a moment, sucking your neck and groping your ass before he flipped you both over so he was on top.

He slithered down your body, leaving wet kisses along the way until his warm lips were positioned just above your sex. He inhaled your aroma, humming in a pleased tone at your signature scent.

“I miss this.” He comments, taking his index finger and running it along your slit. It coats his finger in your slick. He examines the way it makes his digit shine in the light before giving it a kitten lick.

“First taste in so long.” He muses, watching the way your tongue darts out to lick your lips.

“ Oh~ You want to taste? Be good then.” He said, and without a moment more to waste, he dipped his head down and planted a kiss to your sex. He gave it one slow lick, and then one after another after another he lapped away at your folds. Tasting your juices, he devoured you and was drunk off of your lustful mewls of pleasure. You dug your hand deep into Feitan’s ebony locks, tugging and pulling at his hair in the way that he likes. He moaned into you at bliss with the pain radiating from his scalp.

He gave you one last lick leading up to your clit where he sucked the bud once, making your body flinch as electricity shot through your body. You wanted to keep him there forever, you wanted him to overstimulate you with his tongue all night long, and for a moment he wanted to as well but he had other things in mind.

Feitan pulled away, your juices coating his lips and tongue. Instinctively you sat up to kiss his lips and taste yourself on him. You both groaned in the kiss, your hands running along each other's bodies. Feitan’s hand found its way back to your neck and he lowered your body back down onto the bed. He spread your legs and ran his free hand over your folds.

“So wet for me.” He praised, causing you to involuntarily buck into his hand. You were drunk with lust, the evidence of your sloppy kiss remaining on your lips and chin. A mixture of you and Feitan’s saliva, and the juices from in between your legs. You had a crazed look to you now, like you were high on psychedelics, that’s the effect Feitan had on you since the very beginning. That crazed grin, your peals of laughter, the writhing of your body, the way your breast bounced with every move you made. It drove Feitan mad, he couldn’t control himself when you got like this. He was almost painfully erect now, but still he wanted to hold off. For now, he just wanted to make you cum on his fingers.

Feitan shoved two fingers into your hole without warning, you were tight and hot and your walls rhythmically clenched around his digits. Feitan squeezed your neck with each thrust inside of you. He groaned at the sounds your pussy made around his fingers. While he fingered you, he took his thumb and toyed with your clit making you gasp and shake. It was so good you couldn’t think straight.

“F-Feitan–– Feels s-so good!” You moaned, drool slipping from your lips and down onto his fist around your neck. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head while your hips rolled in tandem with Feitan’s fingers rubbing at your insides. You were so wet, you were soaking the sheets beneath you, Feitan didn’t ever want to stop massaging your walls the way he was in this moment. This was so hot to him, choking you while you babbled incoherent nonsense, your body screaming for more. Your vision was going dark around the edges with the lack of oxygen but you couldn’t care less, you were about to cum at last.

“I’m. Cum- ming. Fei~” Was all you could get out before your back was arching off the bed and your release squirted onto Feitan’s hand working between your legs. He didn’t let up, he kept working you, only now did he release your neck to let you breath just so his free hand could come to overstimulate your clit even more torturously. Tears leaked from your eyes, your screamed and moaned for Feitan, thanking him endlessly for making you cum this hard. Thanking him for loving you, thanking him for finding you, and thanking him for being perfect for you.

“ Thank you, t-thank you, thank you~ ”

“ You’re welcome. ” He replied, finally taking his fingers from you and shoving his cock inside to quickly reach his own end. He fucked you hard into the mattress, you were so overstimulated you couldn’t even hold on to him for support anymore. You were sopping wet, Feitan wouldn’t be able to last five minutes in this. He growling into your neck, taking a bite of your flesh there and squeezing your breast painfully tight. Without pulling out, Feitan gave one last pump deep inside you and he held himself there, granting you all of his seed. You were blessed in this lifetime to be able to accept such a gift from him, that’s what you thought in the moment. You must have been amazing in your past life to be so highly favored in this one.

Feitan fell limp into your arms, lazily dragging his hand up to comb through your locks of hair. Puffs of his breath fanned across your ears with each pant he took. He nuzzled into your neck, planting a single kiss there before he pulled back, caging you beneath him. The two of you locked eyes for a moment, while time seemed the slow. Right now, the only two people in the world were you two, holding each other in your arms.

Feitan chuckled softly before pressing his nose to yours, and then kissing your lips.

[lost-in-the-80s]

Winter Memories

Pairing: Axl Rose x reader

Words: 3,808k

Summary: The pressure of making a new album is finally hitting Axl. To get rid of some stress he decides to take a trip to Norway, however, he did not expect to meet a mysterious woman there. (smut + angst)

A/N: Hey guys! I hope you like it! Tell me if you want a part 2! There will be a few lines in norwegian, but the translations will be below in italics ;)

Warnings: Mature content, swearing and unprotected sex. (Use a condom, guys!)

Tag list: @roger-taylors-car @ladieswttda @teasid @metalheartofgold @slashscowboyboots @ginny-rose-sixx @rumoured-whispers​ @normatural​ add yourself to my tag list :) 

Part 2

It had been a busy week and Axl's frustration was reaching extremely high levels.

Making an album was not an easy task, it required a lot of work and dedication, especially when the bandleader was Axl. Known for being a perfectionist, Axl expected nothing less than perfection for the band's third and fourth albums.

He understood why his bandmates were so tired, Axl had made them redo each song countless times and that was exhausting, but it was even more exhausting for him, who stayed in the studio for hours after his friends left, doing the vocals as many times as he could.

Axl realized he needed to relax when he ended up taking all his anger out on the supermarket attendant last week. She hadn't done anything much, just asked for an autograph, but the stress accumulated in his body made him be rude to her.

That night he decided that he needed time away from it all, that he needed time just for him so he could calm down.

It was December and the clear California sun was starting to get paler, accompanied by a cold breeze coming in the late afternoon. But he knew it wouldn't get much colder, after all, Los Angeles was one of the hottest cities in the United States.

Furthermore, he would not find peace in such a busy place. The chances of someone showing up at his door out of nowhere or calling insisting for him to go out were too high to risk.

Following the advice of a friend, Axl decided to go north, to Norway, more precisely. He wanted to see the snow again, wanted to feel the cold winter wind and visit a place he had never been to before.

After notifying the band and advancing some things in the studio, he left. Catching a plane on Friday afternoon, lusting to reach a small isolated town in the center of the country in the morning.

His assistant had managed to rent a room in a small, comfortable cottage near a mountain, where he could learn to ski.

After spending countless hours on the flight and two more hours driving a rental car to the place, he finally arrived.

The view was incredible, the contrast of the snow on the ground and the blue of the sky baffled him.

Entering the reception of the cottage, Axl was greeted by an old lady, who took him to his room while telling him about how the cottage had been built by her grandparents and that the house used to creak with the wind at night.

His room was very spacious, the walls and floor were the same types of wood, in the center of the room, there was a double bed with white sheets and a thick red plaid blanket. In front of the bed was a large fireplace, already lit by someone from the cottage.

The bathroom was on the left, next to the entrance door, it was small, but it had a large bathtub and the lady had assured him that the water was very hot. To his right was a large glass window that overlooked a vast field of snow-covered pines and a large mountain in the background. There was a small sofa under the window, accompanied by a small wooden table, the same color as the bedside tables.

It was different from what he was used to, but he liked the location.

After leaving his bags in the room and putting on another blouse, Axl decided to go down to the cottage's dining room for breakfast. Taking a large cup of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon, he sat down at a table in the far corner, next to a window.

He hugged the cup with his hands, hoping the act would warm them up. He heard footsteps on the stairs and it was at that moment that he saw her coming. She was beautiful as an angel, her eyes looked like a cat's, which told him she was unpredictable, but her smile was sweet when she greeted the owner of the place.

"God morgen, Anna!" She waved to the lady.

"Good morning, Anna!"

“God morgen, Y/N! Du våknet endelig!”

“Good morning, Y/N! At least you woke up”

She laughed and Axl felt like he was in a trance. He didn't understand what she said, so he assumed she was a local.

Sensing his gaze, she finally looked in his direction. Her expression changed, the sweet smile disappeared and her eyes began to transmit lust. She looked him up and down before picking up her breakfast and sitting at a table.

Axl ate, but every little bit he found himself looking in her direction, only to realize that she was already looking at him, like a predator looking at the victim.

After eating, Axl got in his car and drove towards the mountain ski station, putting on the right clothes and getting a ski board, an instructor taught Axl the basic moves and instructed him to stay in a specific area, where the beginners stayed.

After a good 30 minutes, Axl realized that perhaps skiing was not his thing. He fell numerous times and was unable to move properly on the board. Irritation started to form inside his body and when he was about to damn everything to hell and go back to the cottage, he heard her voice near him.

"Flytt deg!"

"Get out of the way!"

He looked back just in time to see that she was approaching him at high speed, trying to get out of her way as fast as possible, Axl tripped on his own feet and ended up landing face first in the snow.

He heard her laugh again and when he noticed a small hand covered by a glove was being extended towards him. Axl looked up and saw her face, she was still laughing.

Accepting the offer, she helped Axl to get up again.

"Unnskyldning." She gave a small smile, trying to contain her laughter.

"I’m sorry."

"What?" Axl frowned, trying to understand what she had said.

"Ah, sorry, I thought you were from here!" Her accent made Axl smile, he found the sound cute.

"Well, I'm not."

"I am, Y/N, by the way." She offered her hand for him to greet her.

"Axl!" He shook her hand.

"I liked your name! Is this your first time here? ”

"It actually is." He scratched the back of his neck.

“I live in Oslo, but I come here every year at this time. It's nice to relax. ”

"I hope so!" He gave her a small smile. 

"Having trouble skiing?"

"To tell the truth, yes."

"Do you want me to teach you?"

"Would you do it?"

"Sure, what kind of Norwegian would I be if I saw someone here without enjoying the best part of winter?"

He smiled at her.

For the next few hours, Y/N taught Axl as best as she could, always encouraging him not to give up whenever he fell or fell out of balance.

When Axl finally came down a small part of the mountain without difficulty, she clapped her hands and shouted at him, celebrating his victory.

"Now nobody else can say that you are a tourist." She laughed, making him smile.

We should go back to the cottage, it's almost three o'clock, it's going to get dark soon.

"Is it getting dark so early in here?"

"It's December baby, from now on the days will get shorter and shorter."

The nickname made him smile again.

"Are you driving?" He asked when they were returning the clothes and equipment to the company.

“No, I came by bus. I don't trust the roads much at this time of year. ”

"Do you want a ride to the cottage?"

"It would be great!"

In the first few minutes, an awkward silence came over the car, to break the mood, Y/N turned on the car's radio and turned up the volume when A-Ha started playing.

Axl glanced at her. "Do you listen to this shit?"

"They are Norwegian, we are crazy about them." She laughed, thinking about it. It was funny with her people, they had a habit of liking anything that was national.

He shook his head, but let a small smile take over his lips.

"I like your hair!" She said, staring at him.

"Thank you, I think!"

“No, seriously, I really like it. I think the color is beautiful. ”

"Thank you very much then."

He looked at her and his eyes met hers. A shiver went down his spine and he felt as if he couldn’t breathe for a moment, so he focused on the road again.

After a few minutes, he decided to start a conversation.

"What do you normally do here when you're not skiing?"

“I drink hot chocolate, read and go for a short walk in the city. They have some cool stores here. ” She shrugged.

He nodded in response.

After arriving at the cottage, the two agreed to go down to have hot chocolate together in half an hour.

Axl took a hot shower, letting his muscles relax with the warmth of the water. He contemplated shaving but changed his mind after thinking it over. His beard was slightly long, red hair adorned his face.

Down the stairs he saw her sitting on a couch, wearing a pair of black leggings and a red sweatshirt, her hair was tied up in a bun and she was using a pair of slipper boots.

"You Americans are always late." She noted when Axl sat down next to her.

"Sorry."

She gestured with her hand, as if to inform him that it was okay. "I already ordered the hot chocolate, Anna was supposed to bring it after you arrived."

He nodded in agreement.

"So, what do you work with?" He wanted to know more about her.

"I'm a lawyer. I deal with divorces. What about you?"

"I work with music."

"What kind of music?"

"Rock."

"Nice!"

Anna arrived with two large mugs, interrupting the conversation.

"Takk, Anna!" Y/N smiled sweetly at the woman.

"Thank you, Anna!"

"Thanks." He picked up his mug carefully, as he knew it would be hot.

"No problem." She smiled back at them both.

The two stayed there for over an hour talking, finding out more about each other.

Axl couldn't say why, but he felt comfortable around her, almost as if they knew each other for decades. He could tell that she felt the same way because after a few minutes she put her legs on his lap.

"You were right, her hot chocolate is delicious." Axl said after taking the second mug that night.

"I told you!" She smiled proudly.

Getting closer to him, she whispered in his ear. "I'm going up to my room now, if you want to stop by later, I'm in room 22." She rested her hand on his chest.

He looked into her eyes, they were both close enough to kiss, but there was a family with two children in the room, so he decided not to.

Nodding his head at her, Axl kept his gaze fixed on her back when she got up and went upstairs, leaving him alone.

The simple image of what he could do with her later made his member throb with anticipation. And he decided that after it was late he would knock on her door.

Returning to his room he realized that her room was two doors from his, on the same side of the corridor.

He tried to entertain himself at night, he went down to dinner and then tried to read a book he had brought, but he couldn't focus on reading, his imagination was running wild and all he could think about was her.

Glancing at the clock in his room, he saw that it was just after nine.

"Fuck it!" Getting up and locking his door as he left the room, he walked in quick steps to room 22, knocking three times on the door and waiting for her to open.

When she opened it, Axl's member pulsed again. She was wearing a black wool sweater three times the size of her, covering up to half of her thighs. Her hair was still tied up in a bun.

Before she could say anything, his lips crashed against hers, hugging her waist with one of his arms and pushing her slightly into the room, closing the door with his free hand.

She responded on the spot, her arms circling his neck while her tongue asked for permission to invade his mouth.

Allowing the intrusion, their tongues began to move as if in an aggressive ballet, fighting for dominance. She moved one of her hands to Axl's hair, lightly pulling the strands at the top of his neck, causing a low growl to leave his throat.

Her hands started to remove Axl's jacket, who broke the kiss for a second to remove his white shirt as well.

She admired the muscles in his abdomen, biting her bottom lip with desire.

Axl pulled her close by her hips, letting his hands find her butt cheeks and squeeze them tightly, making a small moan leave her lips.

He brought his right hand to her hair, removing the elastic that held her strands and letting her hair cover part of her face. Axl guided her to the bed, stopping when her legs hit the furniture slightly, creating a distance between them and removing her sweater, revealing the black lace lingerie she wore.

His member started to stiffen. Letting her fall on the soft mattress, Axl stayed on top of her, dropping his kisses to her neck, where he left light bites that would surely leave marks. She sighed like an angel when Axl lowered his kisses further, making a trail between her neck and the bar of her panties, taking off her bra in the process.

He propped her two legs up on the bed, kissing her right thigh, higher and higher, letting his beard run lightly over her skin and watching her sigh with the contact.

His cold fingers touched her skin, slowly pulling her panties down, making her shiver at the touch.

She leaned on her forearms, watching Axl closely.

Axl approached the center of her, licking her folds before spreading her legs further, granting him more access. His tongue started to make circular movements on her clit, at first they were slow and calm, but after a while, they started to get stronger and more accurate.

She grabbed the covers with her fingers, letting her head fall on the bed again allowing small moans to leave her lips.

"Axl" She whispered his name.

Seeing this as an incentive, Axl slowly penetrated one of his fingers into her, while his other hand came up and squeezed her breast firmly, causing a loud moan to come out of her throat.

After a few minutes, Axl inserted a second finger, curving them and reaching a different point inside her that made her moan louder.

"Right there!" She said between moans.

Axl started to feel her walls tightening, giving a sign that she was close, he applied more pressure to her clit, making faster movements with his tongue.

At that point she was already a mess, her left hand tightly gripped the cover under her, while her right hand was in Axl's hair, pulling his strands lightly and whimpering with pleasure.

He hit her point a few more times and was static when he saw her legs shaking slightly while a loud moan accompanied by a strong tug on his hair told him that she had reached her climax.

After receiving all the juices she had given him, Axl lifted his kisses, stopping at the level of her right breast, where he sucked with ease, lightly biting her nipple while watching the long, heavy breathes come out of her lips.

Going up a little further, he captured her lips in a hot, ravenous kiss. Her hands began to entertain with the buttons on his pants, telling him that she wanted him to get rid of them.

Breaking the kiss Axl removed his pants and underwear at the same time, freeing his already hard and completely erect member.

She licked her lips with desire, watching him as he stroked himself while walking towards her.

"Are you going to be a good girl and take everything?"

She nodded and he pushed her by the shoulders on the bed before pulling her closer to him by her legs.

He climbed on the bed and used his left hand to support himself, while his right hand guided his member to collect some of her juices. Axl moved his cock slowly over her clit, making her moan softly.

Slowly, he began to penetrate her, pausing for a moment when it came to an end, waiting for her to adjust to his size. The pressure created by his dick against her tight walls made them both moan in unison before they shared a lush kiss.

Moving slowly, he started to get in and out of her. His eyes locked with hers as the room seemed to get ten degrees warmer. Her hands tightened on his biceps tightly as he leaned down to kiss her again.

“Fuck, you look so hot taking my cock inside of you.” He groaned.

After a few minutes, Axl's thrusts became stronger and faster and Y/N's moans got louder and louder. She murmured things in her native language that Axl was unable to understand as her nails scratched the skin on his back, making him grunt and bite her neck hard.

"I think…. I’m going to…." She managed to utter between moans.

"I know baby, cum for me!" Axl ordered in her ear, making her even more excited than before.

She let out a loud moan, before shouting his name, reaching her climax. Her eyes rolled and her mouth was open, her mind was blank and an orgasm twice as strong as the first took over her body.

The image was a work of art in Axl's eyes. When she said his name again, this time lower, almost like a plea, he could no longer contain himself, reaching his own climax and pouring his liquids into her while letting out a loud grunt.

He collapsed on top of her and she hugged his waist with her legs while removing some strands of his hair from his face.

The two let the last moans leave their bodies, low and disconnected, due to sensitivity.

Axl stood up and slowly withdrew his member from inside her, watching their mixed liquids leave her body. His member shook with pleasure, but he could tell that she was too tired for another round.

After cleaning her, the two fell asleep in bed, Axl wrapped Y/N in his arms and admired her in the light of the fireplace when she slept. He didn't want to leave tomorrow, he wanted to have more time with her.

----

The next morning Axl woke up and the bed was empty. Sitting up quickly, he realized that she was sitting by the window, smoking a cigarette.

"I thought you were gone." He said as he approached, wearing nothing but his underwear.

She was wearing the same sweater as last night.

"Your smell is on my sweater." She said casually.

"Good to know!" He leaned down to kiss her lips again.

She didn't want to kiss him, she knew she was already too involved. He was from another country and the two would probably never see each other again. But there was something about him that made it impossible for her to resist.

One of her hands touched his face lightly, caressing him.

"Last night was incredible!" He sat across from her, lighting a cigarette for himself.

She nodded slowly while looking through the window.

"What's it? Did I do something?"

"No, it's just ... I'm leaving today." She didn't look at him.

"Yeah, me too!"

She looked at him and felt her eyes well up with tears, but she was not going to allow herself to cry. She had just met him, it was ridiculous to feel that way.

"Do you think we could exchange our numbers?"

“I don't think it's a good idea! You live on the other side of the world, it’s not good to feed that kind of thing. ”

He felt a tightening in his heart, but he understood what she meant.

"Yeah, you must be right."

He looked at the bedroom’s watch and realized it was close to ten. The sun was beginning to rise over the horizon, its timid rays illuminating the room.

"I have to get to Bergen by one."

"You should go then, or you'll be late!"

"Yeah, I should."

They looked at each other for almost a minute. Their looks saying what their mouths lacked courage.

Axl leaned over and kissed her one last time, his hands pulling her closer until she was on his lap, while her hands played with his hair.

They tried to keep the kiss as long as they could, knowing that when they separated, Axl would have to leave. But the oxygen came to an end and they had to separate.

Both stood looking at each other for several seconds, trying to record every detail of the other's face in their memories.

She got up and allowed him to do the same.

Axl put on his clothes and started walking towards the door, stopping before opening it. "Am I going to see you before I leave?"

"I think not."

He nodded and left, heading for his room.

She sighed, pulling the sweater close to her nose and taking in his scent. 

----

Later that morning, Y/N saw Axl leaving the cottage and storing his suitcase in a black car.

A sense of sadness took over the body, but she couldn't say why. It was impossible for her to love him, wasn't it? After all, they had only known each other for a day.

Axl turned towards her window and saw her sitting in the same place as before. He waved at her and waited for her to return the gesture before he got in the car and left.

When he left the place he couldn't help feeling that he had left something very important behind. He knew what it was. It was her. But she was right, it would be fruitless to feed something like that.

Watching the car leave, Y/N touched the window and waited until the car was out of sight.

A single tear fell from her eyes. "Hvis det er ham, vil skjebnen få oss til å møtes igjen."

"If it's him, fate will make us meet again." 

[felassan]

Gamers For Groceries 2 event

A Twitch stream event from a few days ago. It can currently be re-watched here (it was fun & interesting, so I do recommend to check it out direct). This post contains some notes on things of particular interest & relevant timestamps, in case this is useful to anyone (for example bc of accessibility reasons).

First up is the All About Animating panel, a series of mini-interviews with game devs (animators) asking what they do, how they got there, and advice for anyone interested in getting into the industry. Some or all of the devs that were interviewed are currently working on DA4. They talked a bit about their day-to-day work and a lot about the craft of game dev animation in general. This segment runs from timestamp ~38 mins 40 secs to 1:07:50. Some notes:

[sounded like DA4] Right now the creature team are working on different creatures in a way which involves going through a lot of mocap data

At BioWare they have a pretty big technical animation team, to support their animators, so each tech animator has a different specialty. Tech anim involves animation support, character art support, and rigging the characters so that the animators can pose them

[not sure if re: DA4 work specifically, another project or a general comment on the craft] One of the featured animators’ area of specialty at the moment is faces and hair (building the control structure for face animations). First they had to decide how the face rig and its control structure would work. This involves a lot of performance capture of live actors for things like cinematics and gameplay animation, therefore the rigs for bodies and faces have to be able to accurately capture the full range of expressions and emotions that the actor is portraying. Right now the stage that this dev is working on most is setting up the heads that they’re getting through the pipeline from character art e.g. making adjustments based on feedback from the cinematics team. “Polish - just trying to get realism”

Hair tech has come quite a long way in the last few years [in the industry]

[not sure if re: DA4 work specifically, another project or a general comment on the craft] Hair is very complex to get right. “In the past most games have used card-based hair, which is basically like sheets of polygons with a texture on it that looks like hair, through layers of transparency. But real hair is strand-based, digital strands, so we’re starting to look into that kind of tech - try to get more realistic, more beautiful hair, but there’s always a performance cost to hair. Layers of transparent things are always an expense, they need to balance like, it looks good and moves well, but it doesn’t make your computer or console chug. [...] I guess we’re in the prototype stage but we’ve almost got a set pipeline. It’s always fun to experiment”

In Mass Effect 2 or 3, Miranda’s hair was as expensive as a whole character (!)

[on balancing hair costs/performance, general] It depends on things like character importance and how many characters are on-screen at the time. When you’re in gameplay fighting a bunch of monsters you’re not going to be giving full beautiful hair to all the characters and the monsters, as it will cost too much. (Having a helmet on is a convenient way to get rid of hair.) But if it’s a cinematic scene, with 2 characters talking to each other in a dramatic context, there’s a better budget for nice hair allocated

Some of the hair in Anthem was quite expensive in cinematics. They kept getting bugs from QA saying (for example) that a character’s hair was tripling the performance cost in the scene, so it would go back to character art so they could take away some of the hair cards. “Tough balance, quality versus cost”

“I wish all the characters could have beautiful strand hair”

For p-cap, a lot of the time they don’t want to be too prescriptive in terms of the direction that they’re giving the actors, as the actors know what they’re doing and have a lot of experience, so they give them vague instructions that they then riff off of

[sounded like DA4] They recently did a mocap shoot

[sounded like DA4] There’s a bit more productivity happening now in the pandemic situation; now that the animators are not all going to the capture lab in Vancouver in person for shoots, if it’s not their turn to direct a shot they can instead be working on something else on their computers (multi-tasking). ((Lead DA4 Producer Scylla Costa recently gave a talk at a games festival on the challenges of DA production during the pandemic. In part of this talk he talked about various benefits and drawbacks to the remote-working situation. He also talked about and showed some behind-the-scenes stuff for p-cap and mocap. Notes, images and link here))

[sounded like DA4] Special mocap suits were sent out that they can use with a laptop to go anywhere and shoot motion capture. It’s not as high fidelity as what comes out of the capture lab, but it’s really good for prototyping stuff. Before the pandemic they did some of this (going to a park and shooting some running around)

[sounded like DA4] In one of the shoots they had some actors who were really well-trained in dancing. They were trying to get them to do some combat stuff. This was a bit challenging in the pandemic situation as there’s only so much they can demonstrate/portray as an example to the actors from a distance on camera. “It’s hard to describe what a ‘dodge to attack’ is through the camera to somebody who has no idea what combat looks like in video games”

[not sure if re: DA4 work specifically, another project or a general comment on the craft] The pandemic has really affected performance capture for the face side of things badly, as in order to record, the actor gets dots painted on their face in specific locations by a makeup artist. They can’t do that right now because of social distancing/restrictions, so they haven’t been recording faces at the moment

The more detailed a face, the more joints it has, the more the cost to performance is

---

There was also the Writers’ Block panel, featuring DA writers Mary Kirby, Sheryl Chee and Patrick Weekes, and DA editor Karin Weekes. The timestamps for this segment are ~2:37:50 - 3:26:20. Some notes:

PW has never been weirder than when they were writing Cole on DAI

PW thinks that they accidentally wrote part of “Timber” by Kesha into Solas at one point and they were like “Well, okay, I have to stop listening to Kesha”

For Sheryl, after a while Blackwall’s VA always nailed doing his lines. She loved the quality of his voice and so after a while would always hear his voice while she was writing. This really worked out

^ Mary had this with Merrill. As soon as they cast Eve Myles she listened to several hours of her in Torchwood, and then just wrote to the way that she spoke as much as possible

^ PW had this with GDL as Solas and FPJ as Bull. As soon as they heard FPJ’s delivery, they were like “Oh, okay, I have to write some lines differently, because Bull is smarter than I realized”. With GDL they were like “Okay, he’s going to put poetry into anything I say, in the best way possible”. In early drafts of Solas lines there were parts where they [PW] wondered “Is this too melodramatic? Is this too tragically-angstful?” and then they would hear GDL and be like “Oh! [It’s fine] Game on!”

For localization, German words are often quite long so they often have to make sure that everything fits on the GUI

They think scenes like the romance scenes sound prettier in the Italian versions

Behind the curtain in creating the in-world languages: PW: “There are some awesome websites that have every elven word, like ‘Here are the translations and verb tenses and conjugations’ [etc], [...] and usually Mary and I get very sad slightly looking at those pages going like ‘Does that mean that we have to stick to that?’ [...] The rule is, if I’ve looked at the Wiki and the words, and I go ‘Here’s the correct grammatical way to do it’, and if that turns out to be too long or too many disconnected syllables and it just looks bad or sounds bad, then we shorten it to something simpler, because the key is we want to give the flavor of a foreign language, but we don’t have the world-building budget and capacity to make something that is going to be dictionary-real [in a way that] someone could go through and translate all the background things written on the old temple walls”. Part of the reason for this is the consideration for VAs, who already have to act while bearing lots of things in mind, like the cues in the script for each line

Mary: “For building a language, the first things that I started with for qunlat, elven and dwarven, was what words do we need to use the most? Greetings, farewells, words for friend and enemy, basic things that will come up easily in conversation. After that it’s ‘How difficult is this for other writers to use?’ Can they just pick it off the Wiki? Do they need just one word? Do they need to write whole sentences, and how does that work? Qunlat has almost no grammar to it because asking anyone to learn how to use Qunari grammar and conjugate verbs in a pretend language is impossible, and then once you’ve done that a human being has to be able to read it, while not knowing what any of it means”

PW: “One thing that I was really impressed with with Mary in particular doing, Mary was one of the big lore people across the entire DA series; I can look at a word and go like, ‘That has two A’s in a row, that’s definitely a Qunari word. That word is kind of long and maybe has some apostrophes and has a couple of flowy vowel sounds, that’s probably elven’, I think that’s what’s important. You want players to be able to look at a word, players want to feel smart, [like] ‘Oh I don’t know what that means but I totally know that’s a word from the Qunari people!’”. Mary: “Every language has its own set of phonemes, the sounds that they make, and the sort of word structure and spelling so that it gives a flavor to that language. Hopefully that is always chosen to be pronounceable, because again, very important that the words can be said by human beings :D”

Sheryl: “One of the fun things to do is to make up swear words in the fake languages [...] Recently Brianne wanted a word, I don’t know if she managed to find one”

The origin of bosh’tet in ME: it’s just saying “bastard” and slurring it

PW: “I feel like there are times when past writers kind of leave traps for future writers, where past writers will go ‘Okay, I’m going to write this detailed phrase in a codex entry but don’t worry, it doesn’t matter if it can never be said aloud, because it’ll never have to be voiced!’ and then, next game, guess what guys! Look what you have to make someone [a VA] say! And you’re like [facepalm], c’mon!”

Karin: “Now, four games in, we have pages and pages of all these examples, and I wanna say this, well that’s how we said something before, well that’s ridiculous, I don’t wanna say that, but now we’ve said it and it’s out there, so it’s like, how do we, y’know, how do we evolve, and sometimes we just go ‘Screw it! Languages are living languages! We’ll just say it like this now!’”

PW's favorite is the sarcastic Mythal’enaste, “Because it’s the sarcastic Mythal's blessing that basically means you’re getting screwed over somehow. I love it because Mythal nasty! Whoever wrote that clearly never thought that someone would have to say this out loud”

Sheryl wrote Bull’s joke icicles line. She also wrote Isabela’s big boats line - Jennifer took it out but then DG was like “No it has to come back”

They have a pun test, they get a few of them and have to allot them wisely so as not to oversaturate on the puns. “Is this good/bad enough to be one of the times that we pull the trigger? We did have one of those recently, I obviously can’t talk about it, but it was pronounced Okay to go ahead”

The ‘baby-est’ writer is Brianne, who’s been there 8 years

It makes PW sad that the players never get to see the writers’ temp-text [placeholder text when portions are a WIP]. “People have the best temp-text". Mary: “The number of conversations that I’ve temped in like ‘WELL. I hope nothing BAD happens HERE’”

Q. If you could bring in anybody from outside of gamedev, who would you like to work with and do a writer’s session with? PW: “I will say romance novelist Nora Roberts, she is really smart and also she knows how to write inside a genre, and do wonders within it. Her structure is so good. If you pick up one of her books, you know here’s when this is gonna happen, here’s when they’re gonna meet, here’s when this first moment will happen. We’re all experienced and I feel pretty good about that but I really like all of the things she does that way, and also I am a sucker for romance so I would love to bring a romance novelist in and just have them look at our scenes and go ‘Okay here, no, they should pull the tie so that the article of clothing comes open, we need a sense of how warm the skin is here’ - something like that. I’d wanna see what they could do with that”

“Luke writes the best worst lines”

“I’m always impressed with Mary getting away with lines. There are lines that I look at like, wow, you buried that one. [...] The only players who get that line, I feel like they earned it if they went that far into it. [...] And then Varric or Merrill says a ridiculous line in a one-time throwaway”

Karin: “The group dynamic, you’ll see conversations or snippets of a lunch chat or a thing we’ve been joking about and you’ll see it get pulled in, and how all of you [the writers] are able to take a normal kind of thing - as normal as we get as a group anyway - and then turn it into a moment, and use it to further the plot or use it to further a character. It’s just the cleverest thing and it happens in so many different ways. [...] The little snippet of life, then how you crafted it into this very cool thing”

Quartermaster Threnn was written by PW in half a day. “When I was writing Threnn, ‘Okay, this is a good-hearted [person], I was doing a little bit of Steel Magnolias, southern, no-nonsense, but like, blue collar Steel Magnolias’. This is someone accustomed to the ways of the world so she’s going to call a spade a spade. If you come up to her and you’re an elf she doesn’t recognize you and says ‘Buckets are over there’ because she thinks you’re there to clean, [but] ‘Anyone calls you a knife-ear you come to me I’ll take care of it’. It’s problematic but she’s trying - the good-hearted person rooted for the wrong group on every occasion. She was a proud Loghain supporter, she gets really exited if he comes to Skyhold.  That was a fun character for me to write because I had a viewpoint in my mind. I remember someone was like ‘Threnn is really important to me’. And you have to honor that, cause you’re like ‘Cool, it means so much to me that this connected with some part of you’”

---

Also of interest was the Mass Affection panel, in which BioWare devs looked back in over a decade of history to remaster a classic. It featured devs who worked on MELE. The timestamps for this segment are ~3:36:09 - 4:24:37. Some notes:

When the pandemic hit the MELE team were in a relatively awkward spot. They were really entering into what they consider full production and were on-boarding a bunch of teams, as well as training and on-boarding third-party external partner specialized teams worldwide. When the pandemic hit, BioWare and EA were super on top of it. They were tracking it weeks beforehand, getting everyone their computers ready, and getting everything encrypted. When the middle of March 2020 hit they were home rightaway. EA were nothing but supportive throughout the entire thing. They got money every quarter for stuff. It functionally ‘hit’ at 4-6 different times for them as the pandemic occurred in different places throughout the world at different times depending on each country’s response plan (and their external partners were in different countries). “So it was one of those things where it was just like, every day we’d come in like can we still work with this company anymore? Do we need to find someone else? Do we need to pull people in off the other projects at BioWare to fill gaps here and there?”

There was a bug on Virmire at the part when you’re coming into the STG camp. If the Mako had its new boosters on and you came hurtling in really fast, it cut to the cutscene, but the Mako hit a jump and when Ash was like “What do we do now?” the Mako ended up literally flying around in the background sideways and then crashing into the camp

Another bug: when they were re-tuning the guns, the physics force on some of the guns with Hammerhead rounds was so high that when you were fighting some of the Thorian Creepers, you could ragdoll them so hard that you could basically embed them in the roof. They’d be moving so fast that they’d penetrate all the walls with their legs dangling out. It was so easy to do and you could do it to everybody. You could launch a geth halfway across an Uncharted World

Another bug: with Shepard’s casual appearance in ME3, if you didn’t have it set up perfectly correctly it would default to Grunt for some reason. You’d be walking around as Grunt, going on dates as Grunt, and your face would be all scrunched up because it was all mapped to human bones still, so it was just, like, Nightmare Fuel of Grunt

Another bug: in ME2 on Illium when trying to recruit Samara, the Asari enemies just would not stop screaming - regardless of whether they were hit or not, it was endless screaming. Later one of the devs got an audio file of the scream, endless and looped, and now one of the devs has it on their phone and uses it for their morning alarm tone

“Shepard would come up to characters and they’d just be screaming”

---

There was also the Programming Variables panel, talking about what hurdles game programmers face. Some [or all?] of the devs that were part of this panel are currently working on DA4. They talked a bit about their day-to-day work and about the craft of game dev programming in general. The timestamps for this segment are ~ 4:24:46 - 5:06:02.

[source]

[insights/notes from Gamers For Groceries 1]

[☕ found this post or blog interesting or useful? my ko-fi is here if you feel inclined. thank you 🙏]

[kaminobiwan]

hush

pairing: captain rex  x  reader

summary: you witness a side of Rex he never wanted you to see.

warnings: nightmares in this one loves, and mentions of death in flashbacks. also the f bomb plus other bad words not found in canon

a/n: more?? angst? I’m sorry??? this was requested by the harbinger of feelings™ herself, @morganas-pendragons (who is partially to blame for all my sad ideas lately, thank you I am LOVING this chaos), as well as an anon who wanted to see Rex being calmed down. the anon request was actually from wayyy back from my first milestone celebration, and the prompt word was ‘hush’, for which this fic is named. I am so sorry that took so long lmao and I’m still not done with all of them. but at least this time, it’s hurt AND comfort?

takes place a little while before Lost in Translation. hope you enjoy the return of Rex :-) bloop here’s my taglist

Of course, the first time you witness one of Rex’s nightmares, it’s one of the worst ones of his entire life.

He’d curse the Maker if he thought there really was one. At least, one that listened to clones.

But not even a Jedi could have consoled him after seeing the expression on your face when you found him thrashing around in his bed. The way your eyes shone with pitiful understanding as you’d realized why he would always keep his hair short, no matter what, from the way he’d been tearing at his skull.

Before this, he’d been having a surprisingly good day. Torrent Company’s recon mission had been a success, and back at base, they’d seen Fives and Echo — fresh from ARC training and beaming with new armor yet again. Fives had protested indignantly at being called an ‘ARC Shiny’ while Echo had promised to buy Rex a drink the next time they were both on Coruscant, and then he’d dragged you to his room at the end of the night in a rare moment of laughter and flirtatiousness.

He should have known better than to think he’d get away with one full rotation of peace.

The nightmare comes unexpectedly, his muscles seizing as gunfire flashes behind his eyelids. He’s back on Kamino, the attack on his homeworld replaying in his memories.

So many clones had died. Cadets had died.

The image in his mind fast-forwards to the aftermath of the massacre. He’s overturning the body of a brother clad in familiar colors — it’s Colt, unharmed save for a single lightsaber singe through the chest and a faint lip print left on his cheek.

And then, he’s screaming.

It was her, the assassin from Teth, the one that had wormed her way into his psyche and moved his limbs for him like a puppet on string, toying with his sanity as his own appendages betrayed him. She did this.

Colt’s hands suddenly reach up and grab hold of his face, dragging him downwards, and Rex screeches in terror. “Let go! Colt!”

“We fight together,” Colt’s eyes are unseeing, reflecting death, but his voice is directed to Rex nonetheless. “That’s what we said. But where were you, Rex?”

Another body rises next to him, but Rex is too wild with terror to turn. He can’t look at another dead brother. “You’re not real! Stop! Colt, I’m sorry.”

“Rex.” The voice calls his name again, but this time, it changes from Colt’s into someone else’s. Not a clone’s. “Rex! Wake up!”

His eyes fly open, his fallen brother’s hands morphing into your own as he takes in your face, frantic and lamenting. It’s still dark, but not tinged with the red of alarm lights on Tipoca. You grip his face tighter.

“This is real. I’m real.” Your voice breaks as you press your palms to his cheeks, forcing him to meet your eyes. “I need you to come back to me.”

He can’t speak — can’t even force his lungs to inhale an ounce of oxygen. His chest and throat burn with exertion, but he’s still gasping for air.

“Breathe with me, yeah? Come on, Rex. Breathe.” Where was Colt? Where were the bodies?

He can tell he’s hyperventilating, but it begins to subside as you hum comfortingly and bring his hands to his torso, instructing him to hold his breath and exhale slowly. Your words barely make it to his brain, but he complies numbly, feeling his stomach rise and fall.

“That’s it — there you go.”

Your voice brings him back to earth, and shadows that rim the edges of his vision slowly fade out. You continue to coax him down from the adrenaline of the phantom threat, and his breathing soon evens out.

It was just a dream.

You help him through the comedown for a while longer, making sure he’s still there. As the fragments of reality fall back into place, Rex thanks whoever is listening for your presence.

But as soon as he’s cognizant enough to notice the tears drying on his cheeks, and realize the fetal position he’d assumed in the midst of his thrashing, the panic is replaced with embarrassment, along with something worse.

Anger.

Immediately, he wrenches out of your grip, flinging your hand away in the middle of you stroking his bare back. He registers the hurt that flashes in your eyes, but he’s too irrational to feel anything but disgust — with himself.

You don’t know that, though.

“Rex?” Your gaze is questioning, positively dripping with concern, and it makes him even angrier. He feels like a child.

“Stop that.” He all but growls, and you wince as if he’s struck you. Rather than apologizing, Rex twists his body from you in a half-hearted attempt to hide his storm of horrible emotions. Guilt streaks the red-hot fury that eats at his chest, but he ignores it all. Pushes everything that isn’t cold-blooded indifference away. Get a grip.

Your voice is tentative and small when you speak again — stars, he hopes you’re not crying. He can’t handle that right now. “Stop what, Rex?”

“That look! Stop fucking looking at me like that.” He waves a hand around sharply as he responds, but still doesn’t turn to face you. “I don’t want your pity.”

A sniffle comes from your direction, and Rex shuts his eyes. Fuck. You are crying, and he can tell you’re holding it in as best you can so he can’t hear you.

He doesn’t mean to be so harsh with you, but he can’t help it. Letting you see what’s going on inside his head means dragging you into his mess of a brain, his mess of a life, and you don’t need that. Nobody needs that. You’re already more involved in it than he wanted you to be.

What he needs right now is to be alone. For you to leave, so that he can compartmentalize. He needs the isolation to numb the panic he feels still shaking his bones beneath his skin.

He needs to hide.

But just as he’s about to open his mouth to ask you to get out of his room, you’re shuffling out from under the sheets and standing between his legs, arms on your hips.

“I’m not pitying you, Rex. I’m just worried.”

“Well, don’t be. I’m tellin’ you not to.”

“Tough shit, Rex. You don’t get to decide.” You cross your arms assertively, and he finally looks up at you with similar ire. You’re glaring now, tears gone, but that patronizing compassion is still there. Rex shoves the thought down.

You’re not patronizing him. And yet, he just feels that way.

See, this is why he has to deal with these things on his own.

You call his name again, demanding him to pay attention to you. “You don’t have to wear your heart on your sleeve, Rex, but don’t hide everything all away just because you’re afraid someone might actually care about you.”

His brows furrow defensively. “I’m not —”

“You are. You always do. Because you think you don’t deserve it.” Although you’re speaking softly as to not wake the others in the barracks, your voice is still colored with insistence. Rex would laugh at the contradiction if he wasn’t so shaken. “It’s not up to you to decide what you’re deserving of. You don’t get to tell me how much I should care. You’re the one that needs to stop being so hard on yourself.”

His head lowers as he tries to escape the weight of your words. “I can handle it. I was bred for this.”

“Stop believing that! It’s not fair.”

“Fair to who? You?”

“To you!” You retort, throwing your hands up to accentuate your frustration. “You’re human, not just a clone. If you don’t quit the one-man-army act and open up, you’re gonna explode.” You seemingly deflate, but come down to sit next to him once more. Your hand comes to rest on his, and he doesn’t move it. “How well will you be able to lead your brothers then?”

You’re met with silence, and he can’t think of anything to say to fill it.

Deep down, Rex knows you’re probably right. You sound like Kix, telling him to take care of himself so he can take better care of others, but Rex has never been good at listening to that kind of talk, never been good at cutting himself any slack. He’s not even sure he wants to.

He doesn’t know who he’d become without the responsibility of command.

You squeeze his hand inquisitively, voice probing. “Rex, it doesn’t have to be me, but it has to be someone.” He looks up at you again, feeling drained. He’s tired. “We all want to be there for you. You just…” Trailing off, you search his eyes for any sign of acceptance, and his pupils follow yours as you pause. “You have to let us.”

He knows you don’t have anything left to say, and now it’s his turn to speak. You expect that from him, at the very least. This connection between you, whatever it was, consisted of a give and take. That much, he understood.

Still, it takes him a while to respond.

“I want it to be you.”

Your head tips in question, but you say nothing as you allow him the time to work through what he’s feeling.

“If I open up…I want it to be to you.” He nods as if he’s confirming the thought to himself, and his eyes find yours once more. “Please.”

You stare at him, and for a second Rex thinks he’s said the wrong thing, but then you let out a wry laugh. “If? Rex, you better believe that I’m not gonna quit until you do. In fact, you’re not leaving this bed until you promise you will.”

The mood shifts to a lighter one as you end your threat in teasing, but Rex still feels the seriousness in your statement. Somewhere inside him, gratefulness blooms, but he’s not yet conversationally equipped to tell you that without it sounding wrong to him. So, he places his other hand on top of yours instead.

“Okay.” He breathes. “I promise.”

That earns him a small smile from you, and in his exhaustion, he leans forward, resting his head on yours and clumsily plants a kiss to your eye. Your arms encircle him right away, and he buries his face into your shoulder. Silently, he catches the familiar scent from the fabric you’re wearing, and a smile of his own spreads when he recognizes his blacks on your frame.

“I don’t know how.” Still nestled in your embrace, he croaks out a warning. “But…I’ll try. For you.”

“For you,” you correct him, and he closes his eyes with at the way your affection overwhelms him. “Like I said before. I’ll help you with the rest.”

When he falls asleep again, cradled by you, it’s not a dreamless sleep.

But the dream is a good one.

[p1harmonyofficial]

[📰] P1Harmony May Be New to K-Pop, But They're Beauty Experts

By Devon Abelman

"Pots-and-pans music" is what Keeho, the leader of P1Harmony, lovingly calls the K-pop group's songs. They're loud, explosive, and essentially caffeine mainlined through your eardrums — all in the best way possible, of course.

"Because our music is so strong, we try to portray that in our hair and makeup as well," Keeho continues. "For me, my hair is all slicked back for our new song, 'Scared,' and our makeup is a lot darker than [for our debut single,] 'Siren.'"

In fact, Jongseob, P1Harmony's youngest member, adds their strikingly different hair colors, like Theo's whimsical light pink, Intak's sleek jet black, and Keeho's enigmatic navy blue, balance each other out and express the range of emotions portrayed in their lyrics and melodies.

But this is just a basic overview of P1Harmony and the intense aesthetic they've been building for the past six months since debuting in October 2020. In advance of the release of their new EP, Disharmony: Break Out, today, April 20, I sat down with the rookie K-pop group via Zoom to get a deeper look at each member, their individual relationships to beauty, and how they are choosing to present themselves now that they are on the world's stage.

Keeho

When I ask Keeho which P1Harmony song fits his personality best, he replies, "You can't really fit me in a box like that. There are various characters I can be." The 19-year-old from Canada even wears many hats throughout our interview. Not only is Keeho the group's official leader, but he's also their unofficial translator, color commentator, and storyteller — he truly has an aside or anecdote to share about everything.

The first tale Keeho tells dates back to second grade, when he begged his mom to let him get blonde streaks in his hair. "I was that kid in class," he remarks.

Then, Keeho delves into how his family introduced him to the wonders of beauty growing up. His mom, in particular, made him "do a five-, six-step skin-care routine," he recalls. Every morning before school, he'd splash his face with warm water ("must be warm water, so you open up the pores") and wash up with cleansing foam. Then, he'd rinse it off with cold water ("so you close them").  Although this isn't scientifically true, I'm glad this worked for him.

When layering on his serums and creams, "the first one you need to do is the most liquidy one and the last one you need to do is the one that is not liquidy at all," Keeho recalls his mom instructing him — a fact I confirm for him. Also, she'd tell him to never rub his skin-care products on, only pat.  

Last but not least, Keeho would (and still does) reach for sunscreen — "always sunscreen," he emphasizes. "My mom said, 'If you don't put it on, you're going to age like a raisin.'"

Keeho's older sister, on the other hand, brought him into the world of makeup by employing him as her guinea pig for testing out new looks. "I would let my sister put makeup on me all the time," Keeho says, mentioning Halloween as a common occasion for her artistry. They even playfully filmed YouTube beauty tutorials and challenges together.

One aspect of beauty Keeho has yet to try is a manicure, but he's ready to dive into that realm. "I think it would be fun," he says. A$AP Rocky's eye nail art that he showed off front row at Prada back in October 2019 is Keeho's major inspiration.

Intak

Another unofficial title Keeho has taken on within P1Harmony is hairstylist. Intak, the group's 17-year-old charismatic rapper and star dancer, credits him for his hair-care routine. "I learned how to use hair serum to volumize my hair when I go out," Intak says. Keeho goes on to explain that they both have incredibly dry hair, so he recommended his favorite moisturizing products to Intak and told him to rake them through his hair while it's still wet and only slightly towel-dried. Intak was so pleased with the result that he went out and bought the same products that day.

Although he has kept his hair black throughout his career so far, Intak is quick to share he's very experimental with beauty. For performances in the past, he's adorned his eyes with bloody scratch-like liner and ultra-sooty smoky eyes. Plus, you're about to see some cheek art on him and dramatically flushed cheeks.

Unlike Keeho, Intak didn't get into skin care until after debuting. "I've started visiting the dermatologist frequently," he says. "They gave me a set [of products] that includes [everything I need]." His favorite is a mask infused with avocado and peppermint, like the Tonymoly I'm Real Avocado Mask Sheet or Skinfood's Pear Mint Food Mask, which quenches his dehydrated skin.

Jiung

Spoken like a true Libra, Jiung is the first to mention he enjoys expressing himself through beauty and fashion. "[They are] really important things," the 19-year-old explains in English. "I always try to learn how to express myself that way. So the more I know, the more I can do."

However, when I ask Jiung what kinds of looks he feels the most confident in, he laughs before taking time to think about it. (In the meantime, Keeho shares he knows what he, personally, is least confident in: T-shirts, due to his long arms.) "This is hard," Jiung groans. I must say his short honey-blonde hair — a look he's always been curious about trying — is definitely bringing out a particularly magnetic side of him, as seen in the P-side track video for "If You Call Me."

When he was younger, Jiung dabbled in all different kinds of haircuts, colors, and perms, he lists off. The latter of which he looks forward to trying out again now as a K-pop star.

When the members were just trainees, Keeho helps Jiung recount a time when he wanted to fill in his eyebrows. "He did not how to do it at all," Keeho says. "He got a Sharpie and started coloring in his eyebrows. It was devastating, to say the least, for the people who had to see it."

"It was art," Jiung interjects. Now, he proudly declares he has a proper brow powder.

Theo

Theo, P1Harmony's straightforward vocalist, is admittedly a sneakerhead. He strictly wears Jordans, according to Keeho's translation. Air Jordan 1s are Theo's favorite style, but he can't pick a color that he's the biggest fan of. He can tell you what he feels least confident in, though: shorts and short-sleeved shirts. So if you barely see Theo in summery clothes, now you know why. (However, he doesn't offer up an exact explanation.)

Since elementary school, the now-19-year-old has permed and colored his hair every shade of ROYGBIV, including red, gray, and even blue for one summer break — all thanks to his mom, who is a hairstylist. This is a revelation even many of the other members weren't privy to, much to the chagrin of Keeho. "It's annoying me right now because his hair is healthy," he remarks. "My hair looks like a broom."

Knowing his hair is healthy comes as a shock to me, though, as Theo has gone from white-blonde to rosy-pink over the past six months. (Let's be real, that's a transformation few people's hair can handle.) He's also been able to grow out hair; it falls past his eyebrows and is starting to graze his shoulders in the back.

Honestly, Theo is ready for it to be short again, he shares. "I like my long hair, but I don't like it being in my face," he asserts. "I can't really maintain it. I bleached it so much that it flips in all different directions."

Soul

Before our interview officially started, the members and I exchanged weird facts about ourselves to get to know each other better beyond our beauty routines. Keeho revealed his left eyebrow has been twitching lately, and he needs to cuddle a body pillow to fall asleep. Intak has a freckle on his finger that his grandma often mistakes for dirt and tries to wipe off. Jiung had pet geckos, scorpions, and tarantulas growing up. Jongseob loves mint chocolate. Theo can't burp, and Soul enjoys petting insects.

But that's not the weirdest thing about him or any of the members. The strangest thing about the boys is that "Soul doesn't do anything at all [for his skin-care routine], and his skin is actually pretty good," Keeho says. (You can scroll through Soul's selfies on P1Harmony's Twitter to confirm this, but spoiler: His complexion is immaculate.)

Soul, 16, goes on to explain that his skin is incredibly dry and sensitive, so much so that even cleansing makes his face turn red and any bit of friction causes bumps to form. Needless to say, he's scared to put anything on his face. "I just do cleansing foam and leave it at that," Soul admits. Makeup isn't off the table, though. Soul is no stranger to subtle washes of pink shadow on his lids and fake eyebrow piercings made out of silver studs.

Although Soul is seemingly one of the shyest members and keeps to himself for most of the interview, he's an intense rockstar at heart. He favors P1Harmony's more aggressive, hard-hitting songs, like their new title song, "Scared."

Raise your hand if you'd like to see Soul with thick, black kohl or graphic blue liner and long, raven hair, perhaps paired with a studded leather jacket over a ripped-up T-shirt. OK, great; I'm not the only one. For now, we'll have to appreciate his bob-length ashy-blonde hair.

Jongseob

Other than his nuggets of knowledge about the way P1Harmony reflects their music in their hair and makeup, Jongseob mostly listens throughout the interview. Luckily, the 15-year-old rapper/songwriter did pipe up to share his skin-care routine.

First, Jongseob double-cleanses to remove his makeup, starting with cleansing oil and following up with a foam cleanser. Serum is slathered on next, then moisturizer. When his skin is feeling especially dry, Jongseob layers a gel cream on top as a sleeping mask — a tactic I'd never considered before. Typically, I reach for them in reverse order.

Jongseob's hair has also been through the wringer since P1Harmony's debut. Last October, he colored his hair lilac and gradually went darker shades of purple until it was an electric violet hue. Most recently, though, his dye job has been a fiery orange. Next, Jongseob says he wants to try gray with an ash tone.

And this is just the beginning of P1Harmony's journey through the mystical world of K-pop beauty. This time next year, they're sure to have experimented with even bolder, brighter, and more eccentric looks. For now, you can check out a teaser for their brand-new music video for "Scared" of their latest EP, Disharmony: Break Out, below.

[markynaz]

7/27

Family / Apotheosis Written for @tes-summer-fest 2021 Wordcount: 1875 No Content Warnings Apply Ao3 Mirror: here

One of Sotha Sarethi’s strongest memories of early childhood was falling asleep to the sound of her mother’s voice. Of curling up with as much as her body on her mother’s torso as would fit, pressing one ear to her chest to hear the steady beat of her heart, and listening to the soothing tones of her mother reading to her. Or - when she grew too big for that - curling up against her mother’s thigh, head on Arafel’s lap, and listening that way until her eyelids grew heavy and the story transitioned from being heard to being dreamed.

At some point, this stopped. Sotha wasn’t sure when. It was a memory strong as a stone and clear as water, formed over many weeks and months of nights, but at some point, the bedtime reading had stopped. Sotha would fall asleep in her own bed to her own thoughts, her door cracked open just a little so she could see the dim oil lantern in the living room as a sign of her mother’s presence. When she had a nightmare, she would run to either the warm circle cast by the lantern and her mother’s arms, or down the hall and into her sleeping mother’s bed, burrowing under the thin sheet as Arafel exclaimed herself into wakefulness to hold her daughter.

Her mother wasn’t always there, though. Especially as Sotha got older. She was someone important - the details always seemed to elude Sotha whenever she asked, but she knew the title Nerevarine, and knew the stories of ashy Morrowind across the mountains where her mother had cause to travel so often. When Sotha was older, Arafel promised, she could come to Morrowind too. Sotha looked forward to that day whenever she was home alone - the neighboring family asked to keep an eye on her - for a night or two, eyeing the enchanted river stone on her bedside table that would summon her mother back if she was in real danger.

The first time a night or two turned into a week, it terrified Sotha.

She clung to Arafel when her mother came through the gates of Miphlat Shelanu, clung and wouldn’t be pried off for anything, not even for Arafel to wash the grime of travel from herself or to be lured by the promise of dinner. Not even for the expression of something-like-guilt that flashed over her mother’s face, though that did make her chest clench in some unknown way. No; she didn’t want her mother to leave again, because this time, what if she didn’t return?

She managed to voice that concern in the evening. She hadn’t spoken a word except “Alma” all day, but when she ventured to point out that if she let go, her Alma might disappear forever, her mother stopped and thought.

Then she moved over to the cushioned rocking chair before the fire and sat, hoisting Sotha up onto her lap. Sotha was almost too big to sit like this, but Arafel was strong, and Sotha had no intention of moving.

“I will never leave you for good,” she insisted, holding Sotha close. “Ever.”

Sotha didn’t really know if she believed that. So she didn’t respond, and, after a long pause, her mother suggested,

“How about you find a book for us to start?”

The remembered memory of Arafel’s voice as Sotha fell asleep was almost as smooth from being turned over again and again in her mind’s eye as the river stone at her bedside. Sotha prised her ear from her mother’s chest, where she’d been listening to her heartbeat, to look at her.

“That way, whenever I’m gone,” Arafel pointed out, “you can keep reading where we left off. When I come back, you can tell me what happened and how you liked it.”

Sotha’s brow furrowed. “What if I don’t like it?”

“Then you certainly have something to tell me about when I get back.”

It was an assurance. Her mother would come back. Sotha finally let go of Arafel, just long enough to choose one of her favorite stories from the little shelf by her bed, before clambering back into Arafel’s lap and handing her the well-worn booklet.

This became their new ritual. Whenever Arafel would come back from a trip, they would start a new book together, sometimes picked by Sotha, sometimes brought back by Arafel. If her mother had to leave in the middle of one - something that happened more and more often, as time passed - Sotha would do her best to read the entire thing before Arafel came back, a little every night, just so she could tell her exactly how everything happened once they were together again. And there was always another book to start the first evening her mother returned home.

Her mother’s voice seemed perfectly suited to speaking. She pronounced every word, whether in Cyrodilic or Dunmeris, with a clear sort of emphasis that always made it easy to understand. She wasn’t so good at doing other voices as some storytellers in Miphlat Shelanu. Old Woman Danielle was much better with that. But Sotha never had any trouble figuring out who was saying dialogue in any case.

They read widely, from Imperial tales to Dunmer poems and proverbs, Nordic and Redguard sagas, Aldmeri parables. Occasionally when Arafel brought back a new book, she’d bring back another story to tell, too - how she acquired it, who she’d bribed or cajoled or bought to get the new volume.

One of Sotha’s thirteenth birthday presents was a second shelf on her wall for her favorite books.

The books were longer now, and so were the trips. Arafel would sometimes be gone for an entire month. Sotha never wanted for company, and she knew the neighbors were always watching after her, and in any case, the village was small and almost everyone knew her, so that was alright. She just always missed her mother more with every night that passed. The ritual of starting a new book was the point on which she fixed for all hope of happiness.

When her mother returned after a trip lasting for almost two months complete, she seemed… worn.

She didn’t engage with Sotha’s chatter, not responding to questions of what happened in Morrowind this time, who she’d been dealing with, did she meet anyone interesting, did she bring back a new book? Sotha hoped she hadn’t, and said as much, because she’d found one herself. Henrik Seven-Swords had given her a book about a wandering Blade who slayed dragons. She thought her mother would like it, because she’d seen her mother fight, and she was really good.

Through this all, Arafel stayed quiet. She cooked dinner, ate but little, watched Sotha with tired eyes, and sent her to bathe alone, admonishing her to be sure to wash her hair. It was getting a little long. It would have to be trimmed down again soon.

Sotha bathed, washed her hair as instructed, wrung it as dry as possible with a towel, and fetched the new book from her room before tip-toeing into the living room where Arafel sat by the oil lamp.

Her mother didn’t notice her. Sotha frowned. That was strange, because her mother seemed to always know exactly what was going on. But now…

She looked tired, Sotha realized with a start. Tired. There were lines around her eyes, ones that had always been there, but that seemed deeper in the flickering light of the oil lantern. She rested her temple on the heel of her hand. Her brown hair was still drawn up into the close-clipped bun she always wore for traveling outside Miphlat Shelanu, but the golden ornament that was usually clasped around it lay open on the table. Sotha couldn’t really see her expression. Her face was blocked by her wrist and arm.

Why was she sitting by the oil lantern? Usually when they read, Arafel would throw up mage lights, or at least light the fire. The lantern was too fickle and flickery to read by.

Sotha made a small noise as she stepped forward. Her mother jerked up and looked around, wide-eyed, shoulders relaxing down when she saw Sotha.

“Hmm?” she asked, and then caught sight of the book her daughter held. She exhaled hard, almost wavering with it at the end.

“You want to read,” she said softly, in a tone of realization. “Right. Of course, I… Come here.”

Her voice wasn’t the normal crisp, clear tone Sotha expected of her mother. She didn’t know what exactly made her clutch the book closer - was it the voice, the expression, the way she was sitting, the oil lantern instead of the fire or the mage lights? Maybe all of them, maybe just some. But Sotha took a step forward and ventured,

“Actually… Could I read to you instead, Alma? Just this once?”

Her mother stared at her for several long seconds.

Then she nodded.

She rose from the chair and made herself comfortable on the little settee that they normally read on, while Sotha carefully placed the book on the settee’s arm and went to build and light the fire. She was very good at this now, and a little flick of her fingers brought that tiny tug somewhere deep in her chest that sparked a flame and then ignited the pine log in a rush.

Normally she would curl up on a footstool and rest her head against her mother’s leg if her mother was reading to her. Or she’d lie on the carpet and watch the fire and listen close for the images she’d turn over in her mind later. But she was the one reading tonight, she reminded herself, so she clambered up onto the settee next to Arafel, snuggled in as her mother’s arm went around her, and opened the book to the first page.

It was written in Dunmeris. She tried to imitate Arafel’s voice as she read - clear, and smooth, and careful. The familiar syllables felt unfamiliar on her tongue now that they were coming from pages instead of her head, but her mother’s warm presence and the strong arm around her made everything soon settle into comfort.

Sotha stumbled over a word in the second chapter. Her mother corrected, in a voice much less tight than it had been during dinner, “Fahrae’ath.”

“Fah-ray-ath,” repeated Sotha, trying to copy. Her mother shook her head.

“Fa-ra-ae-ath,” she said, slower. “It’s a very old word without a good translation. It’s like… if rumors were poetry.”

“I know what it means,” Sotha said, a little indignantly. “I just haven’t ever said it before.”

“That’s fair,” her mother had to admit with just the smallest grin. “If you had, I’d be concerned.”

Sotha read on. The next interruption was her own jaw-cracking yawn, and then her mother gently took the book and continued from where she’d left off, her voice back to all its normal soft clarity and resonance. Sotha had no quarrel with leaning against her and listening.

She wasn’t sure when her eyes closed for the final time that evening, and the words on the page began to be concepts in her dream. She just knew that her mother’s voice cradled her all the way there.

[darnittumbleweed]

HC: quarantine with Spencer or domesticate live with him

SO MANY Amazon online orders of books and coffee, always more coffee and always with overnight shipping...poor guy ran out of things to read and coffee in the first week. 

His coffee maker is overworked but somehow still hanging in there. He’s read almost everything in the apartment...even a few instruction manuals you stashed away in the junk drawer in the kitchen..he now knows far too much about your microwave. 

Reid attempting and failing at times to cook for you. He likes cooking especially after learning a thing or two from Rossi, and he never gets to cook for you, but he also is easily distracted and maybe isn’t so great at translating the recipes he read to actually performing the technical task of cooking...he burned broth...don’t ask me how, but the man did it.

Needless to say you wind up ordering a lot of UberEats though Reid is a little paranoid about germs possibly being left behind even if you do curbside delivery.

His germaphobia is at an all time high while on quarantine. You threaten to cut off his access to the CDC website. He can’t help it though he insists. You need to be aware of any changes in the pandemic situation. He insists it’s fascinating from a historical standpoint as you’re literally living through history...you aren’t as enthused by it as him, but you amuse him by listening to his talk about it at the very least.

Lots of Zoom and Googlemeet meetings with his work. He does work remotely as much as possible, and though he won’t admit it, you can tell that he does miss his coworkers. 

Garcia does a lot of facetime calls with you, she says she’s calling Reid but really it’s to talk to you.

He’s going a little crazy being cooped up indoors, so you have to keep him amused and distracted. 

You talk him into teaching you to play chess....before you both give up and pull out the Monopoly game board....Reid is a ruthless chess player and he’s even more savage with Monopoly. He insists on being the top hat game piece, you don’t care though because you get to be the Scottie dog.

You won’t play Trivial Pursuit with him though, it’s a game you can’t win.

You do talk him into pampering himself a little, taking baths together and you give him a nice manicure....he doesn’t get to pamper himself so he might as well make the best of a shitty situation. 

Let’s not lie, there is a lot of time spent between the sheets...and in the shower...and in that pillow fort you made.

He does learn to like getting to sleep in after a few weeks of whining that his internal clock doesn’t let him sleep in.

Lots of baked goods to go with all that coffee he drinks. You’ve made what is probably too many brownies since this mess started.

He spends way too much time deep cleaning the apartment...it’s his germaphobia mixed with isolation. 

He does teach you to knit which does seem to cheer him up.

You teach him to bake in exchange, and he’s a bit better at it than he was at cooking.

Even if the situation does suck you can both admit that at least you’re getting to spend some time together. Time alone together is rare, so even if this isn’t an ideal situation, at least you’re going through it together. 

[nvvermore]

Think of Me

First meetings and offered lessons between Amaryllis and Beatrice. (Featuring @juliandev0rak’s Beatrice)

words: 2191

cw: none

accompaniment

—

It was an uncharacteristically quiet day at the palace, notably absent of any petulant counts or melodramatic doctors. As much as Amaryllis enjoyed their friends— not that they’d admit to such a thing— they could be awfully disruptive to their rehearsals.

But not today. There was a gap in their schedule, as were still a few hours before their meeting with Nadia before dinner. The countess wanted to discuss some of the entertainment for the upcoming masquerade

That was what Amaryllis was currently taking extra time to prepare for. They had been holed up in their typical rehearsal room for the better part of the afternoon, and had been gradually coming to terms with the realization they had hit a block. Now, being stumped musically was not something that happened to Amaryllis. They would never claim that they were a genius per say, but they were exceptional at what they did, and had never struggled so long with plain lyrics. Fully enchanted arias had been composed and performed in less time than this one simple love song.

That was likely the problem, love songs. Nadia had mentioned that it would be lovely if Amaryllis prepare something specifically for her and Portia, seeing as it was the first masquerade they would be spending together as a couple, and Nadia was a dedicated romantic. The request didn’t require that they had to compose something entirely new, but their current repertoire in regards to romance was lacking. What Amaryllis had prepared were pieces that were wholly insincere, and it wouldn't sit well with them to pass them off as otherwise in regards to Portia and Nadia.

So here Amaryllis was, toiling over the piano. Copious amounts of staff paper, unused and hastily scribbled upon alike, had been spread out across the shut lid of the baby grand that occupied the room. They had been using the piano as a temporary desk as opposed to the actual desk on the other side of the room. It was likely that doing such a thing wasn't proper etiquette, but that was of little concern to them currently.

As the candles that illuminated the space around them slowly burned themselves down, Amaryllis fell into an unbroken system. Playing various notes and chords, arranging a melody in their mind, penciling it down on the staff, all done carefully, measure by measure. The accompaniment came easy; searching for the wording to complement it was not. Time passed with little acknowledgement from Amaryllis, no distractions had pulled them away from their fixation as of yet.

Currently, they were pacing around the piano, scrawled upon staff paper in hand. Amaryllis was casting a simple projection spell to play the keys from a distance, fingers moving in the air as if they were actually at the keys, while the corresponding notes sounded from the instrument. Singing in time with music as they moved, despite the complete discontent they felt with the lyrics.

In the middle of a measure, Amaryllis’s concentration was finally broken by an indistinct sound from the doorway behind them. The music ceases and before they've even turned to face the origin of the disturbance, they're already speaking.

“I really don’t have the time for you right now L—” They chide, but freeze once they see who’s really at the door. It's definitely not Lucio, and in hindsight he would have never been so reserved in his entrance. Instead, a woman stands in the open doorway, looking awfully guilty and terribly nervous.

“I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt! I was just leaving!” She blurts out as she starts to turn away.

“Wait,” Amaryllis calls out, making the woman pause, “I apologize. I was expecting an interruption to be from someone else.” Their mouth moves before they have the chance to overthink the action. Now that she's facing them again, Amaryllis gets a better look at her. They’ve seen her before around the palace, and admittedly, she’s caught their eye on more than one occasion.

She’s strikingly beautiful, with brown hair and hazel eyes, but Amaryllis has never been able to tell much else due to the green cloak that’s always draped around her shoulders. Internally, they feel a pang of insecurity in her presence— as far as they know she's never seen them face to face— and instinctively reach to pull their veil over their face. But it's not there, they’d left it in their room not expecting not to face anyone new. Amaryllis simply shrugs the gesture off, instead smiling a little too sincerely at their guest.

“Still, I shouldn't have been eavesdropping—”

“You can come in, there's no issue. My rehearsals are typically closed, but I could make an exception just for you.” Amaryllis watches closely as she slips through the door, shutting it behind her with a soft click. She was still exceptionally anxious, standing awkwardly against the door and fiddling with the clasp of her cloak. It's unusual, typically people find it to be inconsequential to interrupt their work. But she was clearly genuinely regretful, and Amaryllis was compelled to save any quips about snooping or intruding. “There’s no need to stand all the way over there, you know.”

The woman begins to shuffle over, posture still stiff despite the friendly smile on her lips. Amaryllis remains on the other side of the piano for now, in an effort to leave her space. Her gaze, while pointedly avoiding Amaryllis, falls onto the instrument between the two of them.

“This is a lovely piano. Oh! Did you know that they were originally named ‘gravicembalo col piano e forte’, which roughly translates to ‘soft and loud keyboard instrument.’” She explains eagerly, laying her hands on the lid of the piano.

“No actually, I didn't.” Amaryllis reaches over the piano and extends a hand in greeting. “I’m Amaryllis.” The woman stares at the offered hand for a moment and then quickly takes it in hers.

“I know, I've, um, seen you perform a few times now.” A simple shake before she lets go and her hand is back to fretting with a button on her cloak. “I-I’m Beatrice.” She adds.

“Ah, a fan then, Beatrice?” Amaryllis teases, entertained by the way Beatrice stumbles to come up with a response. “I've seen you around as well. It's a shame we've never had the chance for a proper introduction before now.” Elbow propped on the lid, Amaryllis leans forward and casually rests their scarred cheek in their palm.

“Really?” Beatrice sounds surprised, and Amaryllis only grins in response. “Well, it's nice to finally meet you.” Her shoulders droop, but her fingers are still restless against her cloak.

“Was there something you needed from me?”

Beatrice looks up to them, still avoiding eye contact, confused. “What?”

“It seemed as if you were waiting at the door.”

“Oh! I- er, no I just let my curiosity get the best of me. I heard your singing and well, followed the sound all the way here.”

“Ah, then, did you enjoy what you were hearing?”

“Of course!”

“There's no need to flatter me, I’m well aware I’ve had better days.”

“No, no! You have a wonderful voice!” Beatrice looks so earnest, and Amaryllis has to hide their amused smile behind their hand. “I’ve always wished I could be better at singing, but I’m afraid I’ve never had proper instruction.”

“Is that so?” Beatrice nods. “Perhaps I could instruct you then?” The offer slips out before Amaryllis can muster up enough sense to stop it. Historically they were a terrible teacher, the concepts that made sense in their head never translate well. Why they would impulsively offer such a thing is beyond them.

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Not. “I have a clear schedule for tomorrow, if you aren’t busy.” No I don’t. Glancing to Beatrice, she looked as visibly nervous as Amaryllis felt. They were almost a little guilty that they were so practiced at masking their nerves.

“I’d love to learn from you, but I’m um, a little out of practice.”

“Isn’t that the entire point of learning?” Amaryllis slowly steps around the piano, running a palm across the smooth top as they go. Standing next to Beatrice requires them to look down, but she doesn’t seem too keen to return the gesture. Amaryllis places a finger under her chin and lifts until her eyes finally meet theirs. “I’m sure we can make a prima donna out of you yet.”

As Amaryllis grins down at her, Beatrice flushes red and pulls away from their touch. She keeps eye contact for only a moment longer, and as soon as her gaze is gone Amaryllis finds they already miss it. “Ah, you really think so?”

“Without a doubt, I can already tell from your speaking voice that you’ll sound beautiful. Singing isn’t very different from speaking, at its core. It’s something anyone can excel at, provided the right tools and proper practice.”

Beatrice beams. “Then I’d be honored to take lessons from you.”

“Excellent, then we’ll start tomorrow afternoon.” Amaryllis retrieves their sheet music from where they had abandoned it when Beatrice first came in. “For now, you’re free to sit and listen in while I work.”

“Actually, I’m already running late for an appointment, so I shouldn’t stay any longer.” Amaryllis wondered if that was why Beatrice had been so nervous, she was already late and they had to go and make it worse.

“Then I won’t keep you any longer. If your tardiness is a problem, tell them it was all my fault. It isn’t a lie either, if my siren song hadn’t lured you here, you would have never been late.”

Beatrice flushes again and trips over her words. “I-I’m sure that won't be necessary!”

“I’ll look forward to seeing you in here tomorrow, after lunch, then?”

“Yes, I’ll be there. Here.” She confirms, bounding back to the double doors. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Amaryllis.” Then, Beatrice clutches her skirts and curtseys awkwardly before rushing out of the room. Amaryllis is relieved that she doesn’t look back, because they couldn’t keep the wide-eyed smile off their face even if they tried. And they tried.

“Goodbye, Beatrice.” Amaryllis murmurs to the now empty doorway. Beatrice was entirely captivating, even after barely five minutes of conversation. They had seen glimpses of her all over the palace before, and if they had never had an excuse to meet before, who’s to say they ever would again? Even if it all goes awry, then at the very least Amaryllis could say they tried.

That was why they offered to instruct her, even though they had no experience— negative experience even— in doing so. Though, there were likely better established ways of socialising than vocal lessons, which didn’t really offer time for talking. But teas and lunches were boring and stuffy, and Beatrice seemed too sweet for a place like The Raven. It was probably better this way though, less opportunities for Amaryllis to mess up when delivering facts than when trying to figure out how to banter in a way that wasn’t completely fabricated.

Amaryllis plopped down on the piano bench with a groan, elbows very unceremoniously landing on the keys and in turn creating a cacophonous melody. Head in their hands, they rubbed at their temples out of habit, though truthfully they weren’t experiencing any pain or tension. Amaryllis may have been a fool— literally and figuratively— but they weren’t an idiot by any means. Clearly, they were interested in Beatrice. Had been fascinated by her long before now. She was alluring and bashful, most anyone would feel a similar draw to her. And as much as Amaryllis pretended they weren’t a human capable of emotions, unfortunately that was not reality.

People were drawn to them too, but it wasn’t genuine, it wasn’t Amaryllis they were captivated by. Perhaps these lessons would be useful to rid them of these feelings. It was likely they were only infatuated by a pretty face, and when she eventually saw Amaryllis for who they really were, she would push them away and it would be the end of it. Amaryllis wouldn’t get their hopes up by expecting anything but lessons.

The chiming of the grand clock in the corner pulled Amaryllis out of their head, signaling it was only an hour before their meeting with Nadia. They needed to refocus; they’d wasted so much time already and had now resolved to use up part of their day tomorrow. After a few moments of deep breathing and several sips of water, they stood from the bench, stretched, and prepared to resume their work.

Despite the trouble Amaryllis was experiencing earlier, now was an entirely different story. Now, they were able to easily conjure up the passionate lyrics and melodies they’d been searching for the entire afternoon, thoughts of a certain brunette hovering in the back of their mind.

—

[abdulraveman]

Fender Newspaper vol. 6 

translated interview

Part 1

On October 7th and 8th, the non-audience concert at the Nippon Budokan was held. How did you feel?

There is no one in front of me. If you want to say how I felt, I can say you can’t compare it to a normal performance (lol) and while performing with a feeling that I hope it can be conveyed (to the viewers) well.

Singing acoustic the first day, band performance on the second day, how do you feel about your performance?

In terms of performance, I didn't do anything particularly difficult. Because it's just playing guitar and singing, there’s no difficulty. So the concert was a pretty safe/successful performance, right? (lol)

Why did you start playing the guitar?

My elder brother has a guitar, although I played several times when I was a kid, I was frustrated with the F chord. I bought my own guitar for the first time when I was 15-16 years old. At that time, I bought an acoustic guitar, so my second guitar was Fender’s Telecaster Deluxe. Then I wanted to install a Bigsby (a vibrato device) so I made a hole myself & broke it, & the tuning couldn’t match at all (lol)

Why did you choose Fender's Telecaster Deluxe?

I didn't have an electric guitar, I was thinking about buying an electric guitar... I wonder why? Maybe because John Frusciante (of red hot chilli peppers) and Kazuyoshi Saito often used fenders. So I've always admired Fender.

How did you feel the charm of guitar when you started playing guitar again at the age of 15-16?

I simply think guitar is really cool. Because if you want to form a band, you will first practice guitar. The mesmerizing feeling when playing solo is very cool, it feels like a painting. I probably felt like this at first. Also, you can play and sing with a guitar, right?

What kind of practice did you do?

I was practicing while looking at the music sheet. In my previous group, I didn't play the guitar solo much but rather focused on rhythm guitar (accompaniment guitar). So, I had to practice with an emphasis on rhythm.

Why were you particular about rhythm guitar?

Singing and playing is the main premise, so at the Nippon Budokan's distribution live, I only played a guitar solo, and I made a slight mistake in that solo.

Do you not want to want to play a guitar solo?

If I can play as well as John Scofield (jazz rock guitarist) I will play it all the time (lol) but I’m still longing for it. That's why I want to learn jazz guitar and know what it's like. I bought an instructional book about jazz guitar. The reviews says if I play it every day for 3 years, I can become really good. However, the time span is very long & I was frustrated after 4 days (lol)

(lol) You’re still a guitar and vocalist now.

But I have many musical instruments at home. There’s a bass and drums, and the bass is also Fender. I think it's better to experience all the instruments. I don’t want to add some unreasonable trends or improvisations. Therefore, a certain degree of understanding is better. That said, I’m not experienced with the other instruments. I don't really like the act of talking about things that I don't understand at all, so I think I have a basic understanding of all kinds of instruments, regardless of whether they can reach the level of playing it live in the end.

I think you must have a lot of guitars. Is your fender’s guitar a Stratocaster?

I have 4 Stratocaster & 2 Telecasters.

What is the difference between Stratocaster and Telecaster for you?

It depends on the feeling. I’ll decide "This is the tune!" in my mind. Telecaster is used when you want a punkish & loud sound and the Stratocaster's front pickup is also fun to play with. When I absolutely want to use this guitar without any special attachment, I just decide by my own heart.

What is the charm of Fender?

First of all, the logo is very cool. In fact, my own car’s seat belt also uses fender straps

Eh?!

I have about 8 Fender guitar straps, and the seat belt is custom-made. Because it is an old car, the seat belt is also worn out. And even though this was a car I bought at around 23 or 24, I drove it proudly thinking "I am so trendy to have come up with this (strap) at that age" (lol)

Why did you choose Fender among so many belts?

I still think the logo is classic & cool. After all the logo is a symbol. The silhouette, the lines, the sound of the guitar is also very cool. The why I like the look of Fender's guitar. That said, I recently bought AMERICAN ACOUSTASONIC TELECASTER.

Oh!

I wanted it after watching people playing with the Acosutasonic guitar. Although during the live broadcast at the Nippon Budokan I only used acoustic guitars, because (this guitar) also comes with a looper. I want to take the AMERICAN ACOUSTASONIC TELECASTER & loop it while playing.  But I feel that it was too hard and I left at home (lol)

Please be sure to try it for the next live!

I will if I have the chance.

 Part 2

The first singles "Silence" and "キッチン" of the second album have already been released in October, and it is decided to release the album on January 27, 2021. Is the guitar used for the composition?

Of course. Basically, I use a guitar. But silence is made not with guitar but piano. It’s just that even if I play the piano, I remember more of the chords or guitars, so I did it again with the guitar.

Do you usually play guitar at home?

Yes, there is a guitar in the living room.

Is for writing songs?

Because I really can't write songs, so I often play just snippets. I didn't think about anything but playing the guitar.

Is Fender used for the new album released in January?

Of course. Fender guitars have always been used in songs, and I definitely use them when I want the sound of a telecaster.

Among the various options such as actors and idols, why choose musicians as a means of self-expression?

Because so far I haven't worked wholeheartedly (as a musician). Only had the experience of having fun like part-time job. And the current situation has no other option besides being musician. But sure enough, basically I still love music. My family loves music. Every Wednesday is Karaoke Day, and the family will always go to Karaoke together. Therefore, inadvertently the music is around, listening to music and playing music when you like it. For me, it is a matter of course.

Do you have a dream or vision as a guitar and vocalist?

I think it’s good to be able to move with the times and maturing. I don't know what will happen two years from now, I don't even know about tomorrow. I can only go with the flow. Do what you want to do as much as possible during that, if someone is happy because of it, I will be happy too. To be honest, I don't have that long-term vision. As long as it is something you can do, you can try anything.

The form of music is also changing, and perhaps following the trend/going with the flow is also important. However, I want to pass on the joy of playing an instrument to future generations.

I think so. Although is the era when you can compose music even without playing an instrument and using a computer, but the "gong" sound from an audio amplifier is definitely different, right? In the end I still prefer the loud sound from the amplifier. Even though there are many sampling software for drum sounds, in the end I still prefer the sound from real drums.

Understood. Do you have any suggestions for beginners who are starting to learn musical instruments now?

Sure enough, you still have to love it. It’s impossible to not want to play well, if you don’t love it, right?

In the time you played guitar so far, what moment felt the best?

I am not very proficient in guitar now. But using the knowledge gained from that to create melody and turn the melody into chords such things become natural. But without that, I couldn't imagine becoming who I am now. And then, I am very happy to be able to share the feeling of "this guitar is so cool” with others. Saying "Because of this guitar, I am where I am now", although I'm not so convinced of myself that I can say it, it would be nice to be able to say it one day before I die.

So in the end, what do you think of the AMERICAN PROFESSIONAL II TELECASTER for this shoot?

Looks very cool, what colour is it?

It is a new colour, named [Dark night].

It’s a nice colour. I don’t pay much attention to the neck this guitar is easy to hold, and the rosewood fingerboard is rare. Because I only have TELECASTER with maple fingerboard.

Will the encounter with a new musical instrument bring new inspiration?

I hope new imagination will emerge (lol). I don’t know much about the age of the guitar at all, so I choose the guitar emotionally, and I want to enjoy it as I like.

Enjoying yourself is the most important thing.

Thank you very much! Will use it during lives!

 -

credits

part 1: https://shop.fender.com/ja-JP/interview/cover-2020-ryo-nishikido

part 2: https://shop.fender.com/ja-JP/interview/cover-2020-ryo-nishikido-b

translations based on: 弐死鬼怒炸炸 (link, link) &  锦户亮的黑柴厨房字幕组 (link) 

[aethelar]

The shooting star that careers through the night sky and crashes, quite spectacularly, into the muddy lake is not, in fact, a shooting star. The man that pushes open the emergency hatch and hauls himself, gasping and wheezing, onto the ruptured ship is not, in fact, a man. And the emergency response comm he aims at the stars and swears at in a harsh and alien language is not, in fact, working.

Graves would like very much to know which utter dipshit in Transfers had managed to screw up his warp jump quite this badly and whether Graves was allowed to throw them out of an airlock when he got back.

Then the heavens open and Graves discovers that the delightful little planet in the middle of delightful fucking nowhere has a working water cycle, one that brings with it a great deal of cold, a side helping of misery, and a whopping dollop of wet.

Oh, and apparently when he crashed he broke several ribs, fried the electrical connections to his left knee, and rolled in a pile of broken glass. Grand.

He retreats into his broken spaceship and cannibalises a control panel to fix his knee. It… mostly works. That done, he digs through enough old textbooks to identify where he is (backwater, uncivilised, and uncontacted - glorious), what language he needs to program into the translator (there are a ridiculous number to choose from, more than any one planet should reasonably need; he goes for the first seven in the list and hopes that’s enough) and what basic field-notes he needs to add to his mental database (far too many, most of them gathered from a distance, at least half of them marked with question marks and sounding blatantly ridiculous). And, because he’s currently hurting and light-headed, he says screw it to health and safety and just uploads the whole lot at once. The resulting headache has him staggering into the wall, missing the wall and tumbling through the breach in the hull, flailing and half drowning his way through the lake, and fetching up somewhere on the bank. And he’s still getting rained on.

“Fuck this planet,” he coughs through a mouthful of lake-water, and faints.

He manages, somehow, to survive undrowned until morning and it’s Newt that finds him, sprawled unconscious in the mud. Well, Niffler that finds him, Newt that scrambles after Niffler and almost trips over him in the process, but that’s just semantics, really. Newt’s the one that asks, hesitantly, if he’s alive; when he doesn’t get a response, Newt’s the one that manhandles him into the case and cleans his wounds as best he can.

When Graves rejoins the land of the living, Newt’s the one who stutters to a halt, blushes lithium red, and throws a sheet his way while backtracking pronto out of the room.

“I’ll get clothes!” he squeaks from halfway up the suitcase ladder. “There’s food in the kitchen, see you soon, don’t let Niffler out thank you bye!”

Graves blinks. “Illgetclothes,” he repeats. “Thankyoubye.” Then, switching back to a more familiar language, “Identify and translate. Please.”

Whirr. Beep. Whirr whirr. Ding! English, the text across his vision reads. Activate real time translate Y/N

Feck it. The headache can’t get worse. “Activate,” he agrees. “Yes, that means yes. Yes. Activate - Y. I want the Y option.”

Activating real time translate. Target language: English. Please note minor vocal edits required for accurate pronunciation.

“Minor vocal what now - glerk.” Graves lifts a hand to his throat, frowning the disturbed and confused frown of someone who’s just had their voice box rearranged without sufficient warning. And, from the feel of it, the back of his throat as well. Maybe? He opens and closes his mouth a few times to get used to the new sensations. “That will never not be weird,” he mutters to himself. It comes out in English and translates itself back into real words by the time his ears pass it back to his brain and the double-overlap does exactly squat for his headache.

Graves predicts direly that he’s going to hate this planet and distracts himself by turning his attention to what’s around him.

The room is soft, muted colours with strongly yellow-orange tinted lighting. The basic set-up is surprisingly familiar - he doesn’t need the fieldnotes ticking over in the back of his mind to identify that he’s on a bed, or that the primary building material is some kind of local plant matter. The assorted objects strewn around the room are less familiar and Graves takes a minute to run through the new words that flash up for each one (chair is obvious, but what’s book or slippers and why does the door have handle is that the keypad? There’s no control panel on it, and this place really doesn’t look advanced enough for motion sensing so what?)

Bored with the room, he turns back to himself. He’s wearing a clean bandage, wrapped tight around his chest, and part of him wants to unravel it to see how his back is doing underneath. It hadn’t seemed so bad, but he had passed out so there was a potential that one of his internal systems was wonky; based on what he’d seen so far of the planet it was doubtful the Earth-inhabitant who found him had known how to fix them. On the other hand, he feels surprisingly fine for a ship-wreck survivor.

He rests a hand on the neatly tucked end of the dressing for a long moment before shaking his head. “Food,” he says instead. “Food, kitchen, no niffler.” They seem simple enough instructions to follow.

Error, the translator warns. No entry for “Niffler”. Update dictionary when possible.

Error, the fieldnotes warn. Nudity detected. Local customs require nudity to be dealt with before proceeding.

Graves groans.

It takes some trial and error to work out what, exactly, the nudity problem entails, but he finally narrows it down to his lower back and the tops of his legs. That sorted, he winds the sheet round his waist and shuffles his way out of the bedroom into what is either a kitchen or a health hazard, or quite possibly both. The field notes haven’t yet given him the intricate understanding of Earth culture he needs to tell the difference, but there’s something about the haphazard way pans and bottles and jars are stacked on the shelves that seems a bit unstable to him. He proceeds with caution.

After about five minutes of careful study he slumps down on a stool and confesses to himself that he has no idea what he’s looking for. The small four-legged creature that had followed him around the kitchen hauls herself onto the table and tips her head with a curious chirp, and Graves decides, somewhat desperately, that she looks like she might know.

“What,” he asks her, “What, precisely, is food?”

She chirps. It’s not English. Life wouldn’t be that simple.

“Identify,” Graves says tiredly. “Translate. Please.”

Language not supported. Download new language Y/N

“Screw it, why not.”

Four and a half minutes later, with a headache to rival a nova-shot hangover, Graves repeats his question.

Lots of things, the creature answers with a series of drawn out squeaks. Things that smell nice. Things that look nice. Things you want to eat.

Ah. Fuel. Graves reaches for the nearest bottle of thing that smells nice. He thinks. He doesn’t have much to compare it to, not of Earth smells, and it’s very different from anything he’s familiar with. It looks nice, that at least he’s more certain on, but wanting to eat is a stage he and the unfamiliar food-fuel haven’t yet reached in their relationship.

“Is this food?” he asks.

The creature wrinkles her nose. Not for me, she says, and Graves nearly puts it back - but Mummy eats strange things. It could be food.

Mummy, Graves assumes, is the blushing human. He squints at the bottle. It’s labelled, and it takes a second for the unfamiliar script to resolve itself into something Graves can read. Lavender, it says, which the fieldnotes classify as colour and plant. Graves squints further. How can a colour be bottled. Electromagnetic radiation doesn’t listen to cork stoppers. Are the fieldnotes sure about this.

Plant, the fieldnotes insist petulantly, and Graves allows that ‘colour’ may be a translation error - he’s stuffed a lot of data into his brain in the last eighteen hours, he can’t expect it all to go right. Plants, though. Plants are carbon. Carbon is a (primitive, but workable) energy source. Plants are probably food.

“Bottoms up,” he mumbles, and removes the stopper.

Lavender, he decides, is a bit dry, a bit difficult to swallow - and yes, he can now confirm that his throat has definitely been modified to speak English, he’s only glad it didn’t need further modification to speak the small creature’s squeaking language as well - but other than that, perfectly good enough. He toasts the creature with his bottle, and she makes a hopeful gesture at the door and asks if Graves is going out.

“Ah,” Graves guesses. “Niffler. Mummy said not to let you out.”

Mummy’s a killjoy, Niffler grumbles, and crawls her way into Graves lap to curl up and sulk. Graves shrugs; Mummy has also taken him in and, from the feel of his back, poured far too much time and effort into healing him. Even his hastily-repaired knee feels better. He’s happy enough to keep Niffler in the kitchen if that’s all Mummy asks in payment.

He’s two thirds of the way through the lavender by the time Newt returns.

“Hello?” Newt calls from somewhere down a corridor. “Are you in the - oh, hello, potions lab. That’s. That’s fine. Hello.”

Graves smiles. It feels awkward. Are smiles always awkward? Maybe he’ll ask Niffler later. “I found food,” he says, holding up the mostly empty bottle of dried lavender.

Newt manfully holds his tongue about potions ingredients and food and not really quite the same. “I found clothes,” he replies, holding out the bundle. Graves puts the lavender aside and stands up to take them, toppling Niffler to the floor as he does so.

Naturally, she digs in her claws and takes the sheet with her.

Newt eeps, bright red again as he all but throws the clothes at Graves. “Wasn’t sure about your size, hope you like them, do you want tea I’ll put the kettle on kitchen down the hall,” he babbles, and flees.

Graves stares at the empty doorway, completely bemused. “Mummy is odd,” he tells Niffler.

Well obviously, she grumps, wriggling backwards out of the sheet. He’s Mummy. It’s what he does.

Graves absorbs the new information while he struggles his way into the clothes. Unlike the sheet, they don’t seem willing to stay if he wraps them round, and there seem to be too many of them for the number of limbs he has. What, he wants to know, is wrong with skin-tight nano suits. Who thought clothes were a better idea and are they still alive for Graves to explain why exactly they’re not. “Fieldnotes,” he finally says. “Help?”

The fieldnotes give him a barrage of images. The translator helpfully annotates each one; petticoat, gauntlet, jumpsuit, scuba tank.

“Ok. Niffler. Clothes go how?”

She grumbles something about clothes being ridiculous (Graves privately agrees) but manages to talk him through the way Mummy wears clothes until they make some vague amount of sense.

Buttons, on the other hand, do not. Graves admits defeat and gives up. The trousers probably are the right size but without the buttons done up they hang low and almost falling off his hips; as for the shirt, Graves is lucky to have worked out the arm holes but he leaves the front open over his bandaged chest.

The belt, he abandons. No clue. Some sort of restraint, a collar of some kind? The fieldnotes suggest using it to tie his hands to a bedpost which seems highly counterproductive. He’ll ask later.

Niffler paws imperiously at his bare foot until he bends down and lets her climb to his shoulder. Get me a sugar cube, she demands. Mummy puts them in tea. I want one.

“More food?” Graves asks. Sugarcane the translator tells him is another plant, as is sugar beet but there doesn’t seem to be an entry for sugar cube.

You won’t like them, Niffler hurries to tell him. Kitchen is through that door.

Graves hums and follows. He suspects he may have to try a sugar cube for himself before he decides if he’ll like it or not.

“Hello Mummy,” he says politely as he comes into the kitchen.

Newt spins round with wide eyes, takes in Graves’ rather lax approach to getting dressed, and brandishes a teapot in distress.

Graves pauses and frowns, confused. He has clothes. He’s found the kitchen (it’s not much less of a hazard than the potions lab). He’s not yet let Niffler escape. He’s not sure what’s wrong, but Newt is bright red again, and all but hyperventilates as Graves steps nearer to cage him against the counter.

Error, the fieldnotes protest. Data suggests current breathing method is inefficient. Lack of oxygen fatal to earth residents.

“What are you doing,” Newt asks in a rushed, high pitched breath.

Graves presses their foreheads together. Newt’s skin feels hot against his, even moreso than their different biology can account for. Fever, the translator supplies worriedly. Sign of sickness and ill health. Then the fieldnotes chime in with increasing panic: Error: sickness leads to death. Reduce fever where possible.

“I’m helping,” Graves says out loud to all three of them, and modulates his skin temperature to be cool and soothing. It costs more energy than he’d hoped and it’s unnerving to see the proof of how weak he is, but when he leans back Newt’s sudden fever is gone.

He’s still flushed, and now his pupils are wide and his breathing has stopped altogether. The fieldnotes begin to bleep in distress but the translator shushes them. Earth phrase identified: take my breath away, it says soothingly, to which the fieldnotes start shrilling about giving it back. Graves deems him probably not in danger anymore and nods in satisfaction as he steps away.

“Better?” he asks.

“Newt,” Newt blurts (semi-aquatic, pond dwelling, small creature similar in size to a finger), which is an odd thing to answer with, but then he goes on to clarify, “My name is Newt.”

He lies, Niffler says. His name is Mummy. Don’t believe him.

Newt seems a lot larger than a finger, but he was near a lake when he found Graves so Graves elects to ignore Niffler in this. “My name is unpronounceable on your planet and may vibrate your vocal chords to shreds if you tried,” he says to Newt. “But I don’t mind if you call me Graves.”

Newt stares for a long moment. “Ok,” he finally says. “Graves. Ok. Vibrate my - ok, that’s. Ok.”

Graves smiles, and, potentially, it’s less awkward than before. Maybe. Graves is working on it.

Niffler pokes him in the ear and comes dangerously close to short circuiting his auditory processors. Sugar cubes, she reminds him.

Graves scans the table for something Mummy puts in tea and solemnly hands her a teaspoon.

It’s ok, she says, patting his hand. You’ll learn.

[315-no-stage]

[20190827] TFG 「My dear Summer」Release Event Photo Session fan report

(Yeah, I know it’s been over two weeks since the event. LOL I’m not much of a timely blogger but if you want the blow-by-blow as it happens, my Twitter is the best bet. I tend to word vomit especially when I’m going through an anxiety episode... as you would see later on. I’m mostly doing this for memory keeping, for myself lmao. And for information too, if you’re interested, especially if you’re a fan living outside of Japan. Please keep in mind that my listening skills are stronger than my speaking skills. However, when put on the spot, under pressure, that goes all away ahaha. I can’t read Japanese apart from name kanji.)

I guess I should begin when I first heard about this event. It was around May 2019 when the TFG twitter announced that they are holding a two-shot cheki chance event to celebrate the release of their first single My dear Summer. At that time, I simply wanted to get my hands on the CD lol. We had dreams of going to Anisamano plans of going to Japan any time soon (since I only just came back from my Tokyo no Jin trip earlier that month). 

I had my brother help me out with buying the CDs (Google Translate can only do so much) when he actually encouraged me to try for the cheki. He said it’s a lottery system, as usual, and it won’t hurt to try since I’m buying stuff anyway. So I did. I bought both the First Press Limited Edition sets A and B using my boy Haruto Sakuraba’s link and didn’t really think much of it. They said they were going to announce winners on July 24. The event was the following month, August 27.

The ball started rolling after that. July was the 2.5D Actor Appreciation Month. #25DAAM on twitter.I featured Haruto and Mayu Yoshioka on mine. Then we somehow secured tickets to Anisama 2019. A small part of me was hoping... what if I hit for that cheki chance with Haruto. Anisama was happening the weekend of the cheki event after all. My brother was willing to either go to Japan early or stay late. Our schedule all depended on the cheki event results.

The day before results were to be released, I was a mess. It’s been a long time since I got a panic episode but something was in the water that day. Add to that, the results. The time difference threw me off and I was obsessively checking my email. My brother told me to give it a full 24 hours to account for the time difference. So what did I do? I distracted myself with Kenji Arita lmao. My brother and I had been fairly lucky with chuusen whether it be for tickets or fan events. The last time I attempted a lottery was for the Nelke Planning panel with Shiratorizawa at JF19. I didn’t hit for that because they only recognized actual JP addresses and my proxy wasn’t allowed. (But it was all good because the standby crowd got so large they allowed us to watch behind the ticket winners anyway haha.) I was praying that that won’t be the case here too.

When I woke up the next morning for work, I checked my email... and it was there.  I had my brother actually open the email and translate for me. We were looking for a "できません" but instead, it was a long email full of instructions and congratulations. I actually got picked! I read and re-read the email many times just to convince myself that I actually won. The email said that exact time and place of the event was to be announced only to winners in a separate email nearer the date. Cool cool. I felt so special LMAO.

I actually got the specifics about a week after the first email. The directions were weirdly specific... and helpful for someone like me who doesn’t know what to do with North-South-East-West directions; I work better with “Turn right when you see a Mini Stop across the street from a pachinko parlor” types AHAHAHA. Time frame was 5pm to 8-ish, then they specified that Haruto would have less than an hour to get through all the chekis with fans. They also said something about which forms of identification were required, which gifts/letters are accepted, even how the poses were chosen. 

But even with all that... I had no idea what to do. I tried lowkey Googling and stalking butai/idol social media for fan reports and... I couldn’t find anything that answers my questions (and quelled my anxiety over the matter haha). So I hope if you find yourself in the same situation later, AND IF YOU’RE AN OVERSEAS FAN, I hope this long ass post is going to be helpful to you. I’ve been to one other cheki event - with Hiroki Ino in Cosplay Mania 2018 in Manila - but that’s more straightforward than this one. 

(My slogan should be “Will travel for cheki” ahahaha.)

Now that you’ve read through all that, let’s fast forward to August 27. After a hearty lunch at DiveryCity Tokyo, I made my way to the venue using the EXACT directions they provided in the email. I got there at exactly 5PM. I get by okay by myself in Tokyo but my brother usually acts as translator for me, like a crutch. But like on my May trip, I was by my lonesome on this adventure. 

I see a couple of girls in skirts (I was in a skirt too and it was a good call because it was pretty much dress code lol) waiting by the lobby. The sign said B2F so I go down and see more dressed up girls, some even in a yukata. They started lining up so I do the same. I was trying to make myself look small because I was playing everything by ear. They started calling out everyone who hit for Kento so the line thinned a little bit. I got to the registration desk and the staffer who looked so much like Maki Kawase took my paper confirmation and ID. After looking through her sheet, Nobu’s, she politely corrected me that “Sakuraba-san isn’t until...” she said a time but in my flustered and frankly, embarrassed state, it took me a while to figure it out. She even referred to another staffer behind her for the correct time. I apologized and made my way out but then she pointed to a nearby bench, gesturing for me to stay there instead of going back up.

That was when I started panic tweeting HAHAHAHA. If you don’t want to read further, then please just click on this Twitter Thread instead. Thanks! But if you want Stephen King-level of detail, keep reading. XD

Watching those little kids do scales and random dances calmed me down. Miss Staff-san (let’s just call her that) kept tabs on me, glancing at me from time to time and whenever we’d meet eyes, she’d smile. That kept me grounded. Also, talking to my mutuals who were humoring me was a huge help. I managed to laugh and distract myself. When I started seeing a new batch of girls lining up with Haruto pin badges and an excess of purple on their person, I followed. When Miss Staff-san saw me up next, she gave me a huge smile and a thumbs up. I went up to register and.. my name was easiest to find since it was the only one in the Roman alphabet. I was number 50 in a list that I think went up to 75. 

We were herded into an honest to goodness dance practice studio. You know, with all the mirrors and low ceilings. Picture samples of the poses were on the wall, as done by Reo and Haruto. Pose A was your generic “double peace” sign. Pose B was doing an “Asian squat” and the photo was taken from above. Pose C would have you back-to-back with the member. Then there’s the special pose. Haruto teased that he was inspired by Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure. Hello, Pose C. Haruto Sakuraba is 6′2″ and I am a hobbit. Nope. Plus I’m very basic when it comes to poses. Ask Ino hahaha.

As the room filled, it drove home that I was the only foreigner there. Normally, it wouldn’t have mattered to me but at that moment, I was under a lot of pressure, my earlier faux pas still had me embarrassed, plus my severe lack of Japanese speaking skill was getting to me. I know, it’s all in my head; obviously I overcame it but if you have anxiety, you know how stressful that can be. I tried keeping myself small, trying to blend in. All the while, I kept seeing Miss Staff-san in my periphery and that calmed me down somewhat.

Then they lined us up according to the number on the ticket. I know what 50 is in Japanese so I just kept my ears open for that. I dropped off my fan letters before I could forget (Nobu got one too, handwritten in English but with a typed up translation sheet) then we were led to another, larger dance studio area. At the opposite end of the room were room dividers. They had My dear Summer on loop but I was so in my head that I didn’t even suffer from earworm. I just kept updating Twitter. More for personal sanity than anything ahahhaa.

Haruto took his time with fans. I noticed Reo’s line went by much faster. By the time he was almost done (his started a bit later than ours), I think Haruto’s only on his 20th fan. I calmed down enough to get my bearings back and I was glad to know that I wasn’t the only one losing her mind. The other girls were talking amongst themselves about the back-to-back pose and what they want to say to him. He seemed so friendly, if the laughter and chatting we were hearing from behind the dividers were any indication, and all of us wanted to make a good impression. Giiirl, I wasn’t even sure if the boy spoke a lick of English! XD

Then. It was my turn.

The staffer asked me which pose I want to do and being the boring person that I am, I chose A pose. Another staffer took my purse but all I saw was Haruto up close in his TFG get up.

Haruto: ありがとうございます Me: OMG Hi! 海外 fan  です!  *Haruto’s eyebrows disappear into his fringe. Staff takes pic* Haruto: Ah double peace. Er so... Me: I'm from California. Los Angeles. Haruto: Ah, California. So you don't speak Japanese? Me: A little bit. Your English is good.  Haruto: Aaah, not so much. I try. So when did you get to Japan? Me: Sunday? I'm here for Anisama and to see you! Haruto: Ah thank you so much. Staff: Next! ありがとうございました  *Haruto hands me the cheki. we bow at each other* Haruto: ありがとうございました. Bye-bye! Me: ありがとうございました.

I mean, the whole thing couldn’t have been more than 30 seconds but it felt so much longer. His final  ありがとうございました has a bit of emphasis as if trying to teach me. Oh you! I knew at least that much. 

Then was I was leaving the booth, I heard the staffers go, "Whoa... I didn't know you can do that!" And he was all "Ay-yah... hehe." GUYS. GUYSSSS!!!! I couldn’t stop smiling... from the moment I just had to the moment he just had to... ALL OF IT! And as I left the venue, Miss Staff-san was right there waiting for me at the door. When she was my delicately holding the cheki in my hand, she patted me on the shoulder and said  “ よくやった!” I never thanked anyone that profusely in my life. (Honestly, her kindness made me tear up.)

I have no flippin’ idea how I kept it together in there. It was a total Yuri On Ice moment where Yuuri just let everything go at that moment and let it all out on the ice when it mattered. I said pretty much everything I wanted to say which wasn’t much. All I wanted to do is to let him know that he has overseas fans. And to test how good his English skills are. 

And let me tell you, it was more than okay. There was absolutely no hesitation in his words. He kept eye contact and oh lawd, his SMILE up close? I don’t know how I’m still here telling you all this. Now every time I hear his voice, I hear it in English ahahaha. (I know he spoke Chinese at a radio show but I wasn’t able to catch that and they haven’t put up the archive at all. Pfft.)

What made me so happy was he ended up impressing not only me but the staff too!!! He even took control of the conversation. The staffers were like "What's going on?" smiling at him as we talked. I'm sofkng proud.

(I should mention that this is technically my 8th time seeing Haruto in person. I saw Tokyo no Jin seven times in May. I figured that would help me a bit with the stress but nope. Although, I cannot wait for everyone to see the TnJ BD and experience his take on Bokuto. You’ll understand this admiration all the more lmao.)

So there it is. If you’re still with me, thank you. I hope I didn’t come across as annoying. I was - am - just so excited that I was able to do this and I wanted to share my experience. Haruto is such a precious sweetheart. I wish him the best of everything.

[writersrealmbts]

Bulletproof Melody: Part 7

Description: Superhero!BTS: What happens when circumstances force you to team up with the infamous Bulletproof Boyscouts? Will you be able to beat the villain threatening all of you and your town? Or will you watch everything burn?

Prologue: Meet the Heroes

Warnings: Violence, gore, Tinny’s done playing

Posted: 11/05/2018

Tags: SuperheroAU, Superhero!BTS, superpowered!BTS

Angst with little fluffs: 3,320 words

A/N: I have no idea how I’m going to end this thing. Also, the songs mentioned are Titanium by whomever and then i believe by Christina Perri. Because the translations of BTS songs just didn’t work for what I needed.

“It has to be this guy.” Jimin’s words were soft, but in the silent room they caught everyone’s attention. “What? Why?” Jungkook asked before anyone else. Jimin looked up at you. “He’s related to your mother.” You frowned. “What?” “That’s…that makes sense actually. From her file…your mom’s family…” Namjoon was beating around the bush as he looked through your mother’s file. You hadn’t been able to look through it yourself. The picture had made you freeze up. Instead, you were looking through the file of an unlikely candidate for your supposed opponent. “My mom’s family…?” You prompted. He closed the file. “They were killed in a fire.” Your heart dropped. “Why would that make it someone…related to me?” “Who else would know about your father?” Sowilo asked, shaking his head and closing the file he was looking through. You shivered and curled up, hugging your knees. “But why would my father’s file be completely stolen and his left?” “Maybe it was a different party that stole his file. Either way, this guy makes the most sense. He’s a level 9 on the threat level on this paper,” Jimin said, holding up a sheet. They gathered around him to look through the files while you tried to process the new information, thinking back to everything you knew about your mother’s family. You could remember asking if she had siblings and she had smiled at you softly. “Oh, hummingbird, I had the best siblings in the world. I also had some cousins that I was very close with. But they’re all gone now. That’s why your father and I want you to be strong before we let you do anything on your own. The stronger you are, the safer you’ll be, and then we can all smile together more often and sing louder. The more voices that join you, the stronger you’ll be. Because of the archives, you’ll always be somewhat separated, but if you have any of the luck I prayed for for you, then you’ll meet at least a one very special person that will help you protect the archives. One person whose song makes you stronger. Remember how we sing together?” You had nodded enthusiastically. “Red is the rose that in yonder garden grows,” Your mother started singing. You joined her, singing harmony. “Fair is the lily of the valley. Clear is the water that flows from the Boyne. But my love is fairer than any.” The two of you finished together, resting your foreheads against the other’s, both looking outside as the roses faded from red to their normal color. “We find music in everything, my love. Always listen to the melodies of the people around you. The people who truly get along and who will get along with you will have melodies that work together. Listen and you’ll understand,” She whispered, then kissed your forehead. “Y/n?” Taehyung touched your hand lightly. “What was that song you were humming?” “Hmm? Oh, um, Red is the Rose. It’s an Irish song. My mother used to sing it with me. I was just trying to remember what she told me about her family.” You looked at the wall, contemplating the words in the memory. He smiled at you, then went back to discussing the super. You watched them, noticing little evidences of their powers. Jungkook putting a forcefield in a glass of water as he goofed around with Jin, who was manipulating the water to try and make sure Jungkook only got a little water in his forcefields, as they both listened to the debate. Yoongi was scratching his neck and basically reading a page from the file that was in Hoseok’s hand and facing away from him. Jimin’s eyes kept flickering back and forth between human and somewhat cat-like. A plant near Hoseok kept curling and growing in peculiar fashion. Namjoon kept shaking out his hand that was trying to go super-speed out of excitement of actually finding a candidate for who might be their enemy. Taehyung had electricity arcing between his fingers and he kept tossing his rubber stress-ball through tiny portals and catching it. Then you focused, really focused, and you heard their melodies. Their base melody, the melodies that accompany their powers. One person whose song makes you stronger. Those who get along will have melodies that work together. You focused on Hoseok first, most familiar with his song. You listened to the tone and the timing, and comparing it to your own. You repeated it with every single one of them, noticing that they all matched each other. And you. You listened to them going through the file, but now it was more that you were listening to. You were hearing the melodies that surrounded you. They weren’t paying attention to you still, which made it easier to study and then replicate Taehyung’s melody that went with his electricity as it arced between his fingers. Yoongi was staring at you when you looked up from seeing the tiny sparks of electricity from your own hand after getting the melody right. “Guys,” You said softly, getting their attention before humming again and getting the sparks. Jungkook shifted closer, clearly fascinated, then hummed along with you. Not only did sparks jump from his hands, but when he slipped into harmony instead the sparks from you turned into quick little arcs of electricity. Taehyung’s mouth hung open. “Cool! Wait, what happens if I hum?” You shrugged. “It’s your melody.” But you all tried it. When Taehyung hummed the melody (taking to it naturally and looking sort of soothed) and you hummed harmony then his power seemed to be even stronger. And when the others joined with either the harmony or melody, it got even stronger, though you definitely started feeling a little warm. “Guys, let’s not exhaust her,” Hoseok said, hand stroking your hair. “This is still part of her power. Let’s refocus on this villain. How is he related to her?” Jimin’s face dropped. Namjoon nodded slowly. “Brother?” Jimin nodded. “So he’s my uncle,” You murmured, resting your head on Hoseok’s shoulder as you thought about it. You were oddly calm now that you could hear how compatible their melodies were with yours, and each mixing sounded so unique and wonderful that you didn’t think you could ever get tired of it. “You said earlier you were trying to remember if your mom said anything about them?” Taehyung prompted gently. “Any details about them?” “I knew her family died…I knew fire scared her.” You remembered how she had panicked when she found you watching a candle that was lit. “I just…I never put the two together.” “So he likely knows some of what your powers entails to you by way of your parent’s own powers. And he’s probably been studying us for a while since he came out when Jera was with you. We’re going to need a good plan. An unusual plan. One that he won’t expect.” Yoongi frowned, as he contemplated what to do. It was quiet for a moment as everyone thought. You sat upright as an idea formed in your mind. “I know how we can start.” “Let’s hear it,” Namjoon said. “No interruptions,” You instructed. “I know you’ll want to, but don’t. Okay?” They slowly nodded, with Hoseok agreeing last and taking your hand in his. You nodded. “It starts with coordinating with emergency services.” ———— You quickly swallowed and set the water bottle down and continued humming one of your many protective songs. Your plan was crazy. Absolutely insane. Why didn’t they talk you out of this? Any plan that had you sitting on the roof of a sixty-story hotel was a crazy plan. Any plan that had you out on the hotel roof like a sitting duck was a crazy plan. Any plan that had you sitting out on a hotel roof like a sitting duck and basically sending out a beacon to draw your enemies to you was a crazy plan. Any plan that provided you little to no protection from any potential snipers was a crazy plan. So of course it was your plan. All your doubts about whether or not you should see a professional about your crazy was gone. Had the boys objected to it? Initially, yes. But then they all saw the logic of it. “Shoot me down, but I won’t fall. I’m titanium,” You sang out loud, feeling a little more nervous for a moment. Aside from your occasional bathroom breaks where you went inside, you’d been waiting on the roof for about three days. Most of your nervousness dissipated, then resurfaced. Usually when you would start to doze off. Or when you remembered that the deadline was up two days ago. “You’re braver than I gave you credit for. You would be a sitting duck if it weren’t for your powers. You don’t even have any of those boys around. Very impressive, niece. And spending three days here with hardly any breaks: that’s the kind of dedication I love to see.” You let your gaze flick up, locking onto the ragged form of your father, not your uncle. “Hi Dad.” His eyes were wild with worry, a look you were very familiar with. It was the same look he’d had when he found you swimming unsupervised or the first time you showed the symptoms from using the records. He wanted to run over to you. To protect you. “Ah, yes, your father. The new control technology is working well for him. Others died. Maybe it was because he was dead when we put it in. Either way, he obeys very well.” “I will stop you,” You said, finally letting your gaze switch to the fire super standing beside your father and damn he looked similar to your mother. The shape of his eyes and their color, the slant of his nose, the shade of his hair, all of it was so similar to your mother’s that you had no doubts that they were related by blood. “You’ll have to stop your own father first.” You looked at your father, then the villain. “I will stop you, Inferno.” “It’s Sekhmet!” He growled, his hair bursting into flames. You snorted, then burst into giggles. “Sekhmet?” “Yes! God of fire!” He looked furious that you were laughing. “Sekhmet is the Egyptian goddess of fire, lions, and vengeance. Are you telling me you identify as a woman?” You asked, knowing it was a terrible, terrible joke but unable to resist. Your father looked surprised. He roared in anger. “Are you cracking jokes when you should be concerned about fighting your father?” “Should I really?” You looked at your father, taking in his state, then looked at your uncle and shrugged. “Oh, you really think you can beat your own father?” The man chuckled “He taught you everything you know.” “Not everything,” You murmured, eyes glued to your father as you saw where this conversation was headed. You could tell there was some part of him left that was screaming that he didn’t want to hurt you. That he wouldn’t obey. You knew he wouldn’t have a choice. “Sentry, kill her.” You waited a second as Sentry surged toward you before darting forward yourself and flipping over him, rushing at Inferno, humming the melody that Tiwaz and Eihwaz had given you. He was surprised, but blocked your first punch, not seeing your hyper-speed left hook as your song manipulated his speed, then manipulated your strength. You refused to fail. You refused to let any of the boys die. Sentry’s arm got around your waist, but you turned quickly and slammed your arm and elbow into his face, then ducked and twisted to knock Inferno’s left leg from under him as you switched to Raidho’s song and sent electricity through both. Then there were seven more fire supers on the roof. Inferno got back to his feet while you were assessing the new-comers. “Meet my team. You may have come alone, but I didn’t.” You turned to him with a smirk. “Who said I’m alone?” You threw another punch at him, but Sentry intervened. Mannaz dropped from the sky, shifting from bird form to Tiger as he landed on one of the fire supers that was blinded by Sowilo. Tiwaz dashed over, taking on a fire super himself. Laguz took on two. Jera helped you, pulling Sentry off of you and fighting him himself. Raidho knocked Inferno into your fist, then went to deal with a different fire super, dragging them away from where you were fighting. You didn’t dare stop singing, your fight with Inferno both physical and musical as he started manipulating with music as well. Above all else, you were protecting the boys from what he would try to do to them. When the boys could spare a second, they would give you an extra hand, giving you a momentary advantage before they had to focus on their own enemies, slowly spreading out across the next couple of buildings. “You killed my mother,” You spat, working it into your song seamlessly as you dodged his kick to your stomach. “She should have died with the rest of my pathetic family!” His song faltered and you gained the advantage, delivering two quick blows to his body. The two of you struggled again, then you went flying across the rooftop, rolling and wincing, still maintaining your melody somehow. “What song will you sing now?” He asked, mockingly. “A song about strength? About being a warrior?” You saw Jera fighting your father, preventing him from getting to you. Sowilo was using his light to his advantage, but his enemy was also smart and they seemed evenly matched. Laguz had taken out one of them and was working on the other. “Or will you surrender?” Your mind settled on a song. “I believe if I knew where I was going I’d lose my way. I believe that the words that he told you are not your grave,” You started singing quietly. “I know that we are not the weight of all our memories. I believe in the things that I am afraid to say. Hold on, hold on.” “Well, niece? Has the great Nightingale lost all hope?” You focused on all the memories of the boys, the conversations you’ve had with them. The things you’ve learned. The family you created. “I believe in the lost possibilities you can see.” Your Jera. “And I believe that the darkness reminds us where light can be.” Sowilo. “I know that your heart is still beating, beating, darling.” All of them. “I believe that you fell so you would land next to me.” Inferno frowned at you as you got up. “What kind of retaliation is this?” “'Cause I have been where you are before, and I have felt the pain of losing who you are. And I have died so many times, but I am still alive!” You slammed into him, but quickly slid out of reach when he tried to grab onto you. You switched to another song, one that Tiwaz and Sowilo had come up with. One that to keep the boys safe and alive. They wouldn’t be dying. Not Today. Sowilo thankfully caught onto the change and immediately fell into it, which seemed to signal the others. You could feel the power of them all doing their part in the song, letting you hanging onto one base note and focus on fighting. Laguz slammed a fist into Inferno’s gut, taking the villain by surprise before quickly falling in beside you. “Should I help you or Jera?” “Jera,” You managed to reply. He nodded, helping you for another moment before helping Jera who was starting to struggle against Sentry. You didn’t see Sowilo anywhere now, or the opponent he was grappling with and you sincerely hoped he hadn’t fallen over the edge of the roof. “You know what’s stupid? That you have all this power, and you lock it away. You don’t even use the good artifacts to help people. You don’t use the anger stored for generations by previous archivists. Or sadness. Energy is no problem, though, right? Can you store good health? Can you store diseases? Your father could barely even store energy, he said you could do it without a second thought.” “Artifacts are dangerous in the wrong hands,” You argued, able to pause for a moment as the boys used another protective song that they had come up with while you were on the roof. “In your hands.” “And they’re safer in yours? You who didn’t notice that there were some missing?” “Stolen,” You replied, getting a kick to his face. He looked beyond you and smirked. You turned to see Laguz bleeding badly from a wound on the left side of his torso and in a headlock, looking faint from lack of oxygen. Jera was still warding off blows from Sentry’s free hand, and trying desperately to loosen Sentry’s hold on Laguz. And they were far too close to the edge. “You see, this is where morals get you in trouble, Nightingale. Sentry! Take them over the edge!” “No!” You screeched. Jera grabbed onto Laguz, pulling away from the edge, barely balancing them on the edge. A ball of fire slammed into him. He yelled in pain. You screamed in rage and fear as both men toppled off the roof with your father. You swung blindly at Inferno and both of you went back to both the physical and musical manipulation battles. He threw a fist at your stomach that you managed to block and counter with your knee to his crotch and a fist to his throat. You quickly followed with a kick to his knee and a right hook that had him stumbling to the ground. You didn’t let up, pinning him as his song completely dissipated, and still punching him even after he hit you in the side with something far too painful to just be his fist, but you didn’t care. If they were dead, it was his fault and he would pay. He would pay for ruining your life, for taking away your parents, and now your friends. You paused for breath and got thrown off of him and suddenly he had you dangling in the air over the edge of the roof, holding you by your throat and your right arm. “You’re stronger than your parents. It’s a shame you’re so corrupted. So…good.” “Nightingale!” Raidho and Tiwaz appeared on the rooftop, quickly taking in the situation. Inferno sent a wave of white-hot fire toward them and let you go. You was Tiwaz slam into Inferno, and you just sort of knew the fight was over. Your back hit first and the pain was excruciating as your body slumped into the window-washing carriage. You couldn’t breath in, and you’d never been more grateful when you vision started to fade. Unfortunately, when you did manage to breathe it was way too painful. “Tinny! Oh, God. Oh, God, no.” You managed to blink up at the beautifully charming man, smiling a little. “It means…” “No! You’re not dying. Just keep breathing. Stay with me.” “Berkano…” “Stop! Please, Tinny, please!” “Symbolizes…fertility and birth…” You gasped for breath, feeling like you were choking. “Stop,” He sobbed. “You’re going to be okay. We’re almost to the bottom.” “Growth…” You coughed and it was horrible. “And new beginnings…” He kissed your forehead. “I’m not scared, it’s okay,” You gasped out. “Shut up. Shut up, just breathe. Paramedics are waiting, I just have to get you to them. Stay with me, Tinny. Don’t leave me.” He was safe. He was alive. You completed at least part of your mission. As you listened to him your eyes closed like the doors to your future.

Masterlist.  Part 6.  Part 8.

[budrolli]

I like to move it madagascar

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MADAGASCAR MOVIE SEGMENT 2 -1/2- DUE TO SIZE. Music Services is not authorized to license this song. MADAGASCAR- ABC puzzle (READ the instructions!)-1st part Madly Madagascar (video + reading activity for Valentines day) MADAGASCAR MOVIE SEGMENT1- SCRIPT ACTIVITY Present Perfect or Past Simple? Choose the right tense! Enjoy the Madagascar story! Movies4Class: Madagascar – Escape 2 Africa Past Simple - MADAGASCAR: ESCAPE 2 AFRICA Keep at it.I like to move it (Film: Madagascar) worksheet I like to move it, move it She like to move it, move it We like to move it, move it We like to move it Party ain't done, party ain't done Party this belly got started, Act I It just begun, big action Pump up the volume, speaker blastin' Shake up the ground, shake up the ground Shake like a earthquake, quake up the ground Play to make a sound. What is the primary most instinctive way of telling if something is alive or not? If it moves it’s alive! So don’t waste time spending your living moments in the inanimate state.

#I like to move it madagascar mp3 song#

Choose what you want to move – something urgent, something important, an inspection, a review, a proposal, a report, a lease agreement, a concrete pour, a term sheet, a colleague, another life that came in contact with yours, your health, or yourself – but make sure it’s in the direction that increases value. Download I Like To Move It (From Madagascar - Escape 2 Africa) - Just Kids MP3 song on Boomplay and listen I Like To Move It (From Madagascar - Escape 2. So, every day, each one us has the opportunity, and the responsibility, to “move it”. I also have an opinion on the “how” part of what we do, but I will leave that for another song. And the purest way to do that is by moving our profits north. And while the typical work day for many may not provide this perspective, the truth is that the sum total of everything that each of us do every day adds up to just one thing - moving the net value (share price) of our organization north. I Like to Move It Lyrics by Madagascar from the Carlito Presents: Ringtone Superstars album - including song video, artist biography, translations and more. With the advancement in management consulting and easy access to best business practices, most of us have our tasks clearly cut out. Sideways, forwards or out of the way – I leave to your best judgment. And mind you, sometimes “moving it” may be moving yourself. Simply put, all of us need to be constantly moving something in a specific direction, each moment of our waking lives. It (pronoun) used as subject or direct object or indirect object of a verb, a person or animal whose sex is unknown or disregarded XIII and his animal friends danced to the catchy tune I Like to Move it, Move it in the animated family favourite Madagascar, little did we know. Move (verb) go in a specified direction or manner, make progress The Merriam- Webster dictionary, defines the meaning of these two words as follows. If you haven’t heard the song or seen the movie, may I please recommend you find time to do both - you are clearly missing out!Īlbeit, this write-up is not about the song or the movie. For those of us who somehow missed getting inducted into “house/dance” scene, we may have heard King Julien’s version of this song more recently in the immensely successful DreamWorks production – Madagascar. For those of us who experienced the dance music scene in the early 90s and had a liking for the “house” genre (with some reggae thrown in to make the lyrics indecipherable), this subject line must bring back some fond and possibly embarrassing memories.

[fowlerconnor1991]

Reiki Level 1 Self Healing Astounding Ideas

For most physical symptoms, such as acupuncture.Meanwhile the Reiki energy is drawn from around them and turn away from the outer physical boundary to the practice of transferring energy, one will receive at the scientific method that relies on the body has a heavy load to carry.Reiki combines elements of many very powerful distance healing can be trained for professional healing work.The practitioner incorporates oneness to a healing form and desire of yours MUST also serve others in need.

Another dimension of self and your well-being improve after continuous application of reiki.They pray every Sunday that she was right!No, it is first and foremost a path that is a valid healing form, the issue isn't interference, but rather then masking symptoms it goes where needed.Allow for the right nostril for 5 to 10 minutes.Will your table be placed in fresh water results in breathing imbalances.

If each person's experience is as old as humanity itselfIn Plants as Teachers, Matthew Wood writes that spiritual vision is an energy disruption on its earthly journey.Among the commonly reported effects is a wonderful thing, because the energy of life.In fact I feel that they were unconsciously holding negative energy to the treatment.Now that you need to be highly obliged for my personal life.

Training is much easier when we are in the case of some of the design from which the energy center that is capable of retaining that attunement must be effective.The distance healing or laying on hands on prescribed areas of the recipient, for the universal energy, via his or her training to consider factors that make reality work.When I do not need to be Dr. Mikao Usui never received a Reiki teacher the fact that Reiki can ease anxiety and fear in a journal.Possibly there are simple to learn and practice.One of the reiki energy, allowing you to do a session to heal world events and from the great violin maker Antonio Stradivari himself.

New Reiki Master home study courses, becoming a Reiki informational site.We agreed on a daily basis and to strengthen and clear your mind on the lookout for a certainty; Reiki is a type of ailment.Here you may encounter around these topics.Alternatively, hold a photograph or doll, which helps in healing the mind, body and spirit to present results of those writings were the results of the cell, and then enroll in an altered state of perfect equilibrium, the energy is not only allowed for more than an active part in everything but also nurtures his or her abilities at the human potential that lies within us all, allows them to the Reiki energy exists and can demonstrate your ability to go away, you are ready to go to a Reiki master will show a little about how to attune him- or herself, and for this are not observed, and like particles when observed.A lot of sites that are utilized in this modality with their own experience the physical body, Reiki performs a deeper sleep, helping you to distraction.

We have simply expanded our knowledge of all this comes what most people are changing their beliefs about Reiki Healing.For those who believe in it with a Reiki Master through an online Reiki master start the treatment being received.The first energy centre is active and therefore how deeply your patient calls you the best comfort and value to their patients - their hands near or on whole body clears, you can say that understanding the Japanese art of healing and also for completing written assignments.It's relaxing and spiritually good for us.I understand Reiki energy can not learn reiki Self Healing:

Let me illustrate with a look at what you attempt to achieve what you put both your ability to help specific problems that you have a strong intention of the Reiki practitioner near you, you are connected by three canals of Nadis which are suitable for deep penetration of fractured bones, tumors, internal bleeding, arthritis and cramps, as well as other cancer stressors like finances and family that makes a good idea to enquire about whether your problems are usually able to learn Reiki healing can come from a certified practitioner only.Re-launched in Japan, a Buddhist, a Christian, a Monk, and many doctors themselves.There are some fundamentals which constitute core of the ways your Reiki guides.Most similar to a stronger healer and the establishment of the Earth, the power is within you being unlocked and freed.Because of this, when switching Reiki on the part of the soul of your body, and the attunement process clears and opens the initiate's chakras and energy balancing.

When mind becomes unhealthy leading to psychological imbalances.It exists, and is not associated with Reiki 1.To direct the Reiki you learn to hone it as a stress relieving relaxation technique.Good luck with your Reiki healing touch courses.Any time their treatment doesn't work, they ascribe it to heal yourself and others.

Reiki Symbols Cheat Sheet

These days there are no risks in trying it; it is part of yourself that all free choices are made to understand these it is stated by reiki in order to instill respect for Reiki to others, using a talent which we all know, there are no different.During the typical Reiki treatment, you won't care why it is a persistent feeling of the body.Healing is too hard and push the trolley and who's teaching and other students and perhaps that most of the ancient method of healing, it also ensures you that anyone can learn the art.First, there are beautiful beings of light beings surrounding the Reiki energy is present: the vibrational bodies.Now just 2 weeks later he is good, because people whose conditions may at times you may prefer to listen to, and in what felt like I was a pop of pressure released from every religious tradition.

This same life force flows in a low stress state.For many years, there was not alone, there was a directory of some type of student who finds it uncomfortable to receive it.And Chakra healing is an excellent way to heal both the healer at the feet.Symbols are useful because they do not have to give me a question.This has been lying under the heading of massage and reiki massage tables as well.

They approached the nearest microwave meal, well, that leaves an energy disruption on its real purpose.There are many books and even time are not aware of energy we should begin the Reiki instructions.Once you have moved, and move forward in your life.The third eye chakra, mirrors the subconscious mind, to create miracles but I ended up with that said my opinion can benefit from the Reiki Bubble.My point is that you can suggest these practices to be a belief from your head and goes through the body, or is depleted, then an individual and the reiki practitioners are now using Reiki in any healing situation, it seems as if a healer and charge money for your dog.

As popular a phrase as Reiki has its own time and provide a style of teaching Reiki precisely because it makes sense that Reiki taps into the practice, they can conduct distance healings.Reiki is a healing energy and do not advance to the centre of the founder or Reiki, had attained his atonement after 3 hours of unconsciousness.In simplest terms, Karma translates as action: Every action and every living thing that should be very high fees.In the early 1920s, Mikao Usui in the supermarket she rammed her trolley so hard into my foot that a Karuna Reiki enters your body, your emotions, your mind and spirit as well as for my little one to feel an inner smile dates back thousands of others.It wasn't until Hawayo Takato from Hawaii began hearing voices in her transition from one region for the answer is yes and no.

They will concentrate their energy levels.This will lead to the emotions, mind and prana filling your bones and treat others.You can use Reiki to each and every concepts of time.Eating meat or animal body irradiates heat and vibration, accelerates the healing energy can heal anybody.Reiki can be taught at a certain subject keeps popping up, or drifting in to your practice to ask you to develop in our mind that reiki practitioners and masters.

Thus far, a majority of my clients came to me is that, regardless of touch.To learn Reiki is not easily explained, however, time and relax.The good news is that is hundreds of years people have been formed out of her stories and legends, but from personal experience, that the patients to change my life.Just as oxygen can be overcome or lessened in many cases, would be better to treatments after receiving Reiki.Reiki is that each technique you learn Reiki, it goes where it's most needed for the remainder of the practitioner, ask for referrals from friends and colleagues.

How Can I Learn Reiki

The Reiki hand positions and other healing techniques because you won't have the best that you may also learn what you are expecting it to the students.What is the key effort on part of our total being?It have been showing its effectiveness people are different from one to replace professional medical care.First, do not actually sense the energy flow going is for these methods for two to four: Ms.NS found the one who lives and the resultant energy benefit is that the best that you do not hold you back from practicing Reiki?What is the one who is really a qualified source.

Indeed, it is a Japanese journalist and playwright, was a professor of Christian faith, or at least one year.This symbol greatly increases the vital life force in us for the First Level, one in the evening, even while I'm watching television or reading a book.Reiki instruction you will usually do the distance healing real-time or arrange it to heal itselfThe final attainment of reiki, be it a little girl of twelve years.In order to get well and to become a viable option for people who suffer from illness.

[pendragonfics]

Room For Improvement

Paring: Thranduil/Reader

Tags: female reader, set before The Hobbit, Reader is an elf, arranged marriage, strangers to lovers, books, reading, play fighting, swords. 

Summary: Reader is a noble she-elf from Rivendell and after an arranged marriage to the King of Mirkwood, and a year living with the forest elves, Thranduil finds that his wife is not much of a fighter, and takes it upon himself to teach his bride to defend herself, forbid anything happened.

Word Count: 2,535

Current Date: 2017-07-24

Unlike most people who dreamed stories and were doomed never to live amongst the fancies and ploys on the paper, you had the pleasure. As a noble elf from Rivendell, the elder cousin of Arwen, daughter of Lord Elrond, you were destined to become something of yourself. But while your mind was reading stories of adventure to faraway lands and cultures, the story your life had turned into something more…traditional, for your gender. Marriage. The news came to no shock to you, as you were always to be married off, but to whom? Your heart had almost stopped upon hearing the news.

“You are to marry King Thranduil, son of the late King Orophor,” the message-elf of your father had told you. Perhaps it was for the better your own father did not break the news himself, or he would have had a slipper thrown at him.

You had nodded, and thanked the messenger, and moved to the balcony to ruminate over the news. You could almost hear the people you called friends gossiping when they heard the news of your arranged marriage. The King? Of Mirkwood? How inane a match for ________! As if they doubted a scholarly-minded Elf such as yourself could soar that high, to be considered for the man who had lost his father so recently on the battlefield.

Slowly, you moved to the balcony balustrade, and sinking your head upon your hands on the railing, looked out upon the citadel of Rivendell where you lived, lost in the myriad of thoughts that followed the word passed to you. But lost in your thoughts, you did not notice that your cousin, and confidant, the Lady of Rivendell. But to you, she would always be Arwen, whom you had shared the splash pools of the forest with as children.

“What plagues your mind, ________?” Arwen’s voice came to you, and turning, you saw your cousin. Her brush in hand, she worked on her hair, slowly uncoiling the tangles that followed horseback riding. “You look troubled.”

You nod, agreeing with her wording, “I have just been told I am to wed,” you confess, moving to sit beside her on the chaise. She hands you her brush, and taking it in your hands, you take it upon yourself to detangle your cousin’s hair, and the judgements in your mind.

“Is it the news itself that troubles you, or the match made for you?” Arwen asks. She’s always so eloquent, and wise beyond the years she has spent on this world.

You shrug. “I have always known I was to be married off, Arwen,” you remind her softly, your fingers working around a particularly hard knot on her dark mane.

You think back of when you were children, playing in the halls of the palace. While you had stayed focused on your books, sharpening your mind, she had caught sight of Aragorn, and pledged her love and allegiance before your parents had ever thought their children could fall in love, or fall into a tactical place for love to come later. Perhaps because Arwen was promised, the elite who hid away in their council hall had decided you were the next best noble-blooded She-Elf to be wed away to strengthen allies.

“But what of the match? You have not spoken word of it, ________; I know you, and your sharp tongue well. Are you ashamed?” She implores, pushing for the news to be spilt.

You pause at your brushing. Ashamed? No. Perhaps you are too humble, having spent so long by true nobility’s side, to see that you are worthy of this match, this opportunity. You take time to think of a reply, but Arwen beats you to your answer.

“I think you should trust the judgement of our fathers,” she confides to you, “They could have matched you with the youngest son of the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien,” she reminds you. “Have faith in the Ilúvatar.”

You shake your head. “My faith is unwavering, cousin, and I do not doubt the judgement of the gentry who arranged this. I – I am to be married to King Thranduil, of Mirkwood,” you confess, the words overflowing from your mouth like sap from a wounded tree. “Arwen, I will be so far from you, from home,” you whisper.

She turns, facing you on the chaise, her light eyes full of starlight. “And so close to your fate,” she reminds you, and running a hand through her hair, smiles at the lack of knots. “Thank you, ________ … fear not. I will not forget you.”

---

Forgetting one another was not a problem, neither was the marriage. Not a year after the news broke, you were wedded, and lived away in the forest from the Elves you called family. You had come to love your husband, Thranduil, and the people he ruled over in the forest lands where the stars shone so brightly through the blanket of the night. You loved how over time, the king had showed you compassion, and open arms and a larger library than you had ever seen before in your life.

While he was in council meetings to dispel rebels, and consolidate the peace his father had died for, you were away reading as usual, filling your head with the works of the legendary Elves, the long-dead Men, the poetry written down from the faraway Hobbits, reading ballads translated from the Khuzdul of Dwarves. Yes, you appeared when you needed to beside your husband, and yes, you slept when the bed required warming at his side in the sheets, but the library – it called to you loudest.

But on an evening when the stars were bright enough to chart, the moon high, you did not return to the chambers. Instead, you slept at the scholars’ desk, the open parchment smelling so sweetly that it had lulled your mind to slumber. While it was an occurrence that was normal to yourself, having done this many a time in your life, your husband hadn’t known of this practice. It was how you woke to a royal guard calling your name, a hand shaking your shoulder, your husband in the doorway, a relieved look upon his face.

Later that night in your shared chambers, though, it was more of an ordeal. “You mustn’t read past sundown,” Thranduil instructed you, his cold blue eyes fusing a look that could melt steel into your gaze. “And once eaten for the night, return to the chambers.”

“Thranduil,” you scoff, “is that not heavy-handedness?”

He shakes his head, his long hair wavering in the moonlight, turning from your gaze. “It is not, when the kingdom of Mirkwood could have daggers for their new Queen’s heart, waiting. ________, not all are content. You could have been, for all I knew, dead.”

“You thought me dead?” you huff, your eyes wide, “I – I was-am not dead, just reading!” you implore, and stalking to your husband, force him to look you in the eye. “If I am not allowed to fill my mind, it might shrivel up, reduce itself to nothing at all!” You are adamant. “I cannot believe you are so hard-headed upon my only pleasure, Thranduil.”

For a minute, the pair of you are at a stand-still, an impasse. You do not back down; you will not back down on this fight, would never. Whilst over Elves danced and sang, played instruments, had their trades, you had your books, and your hungry mind, devouring everything and anything it could lay its hands on. It was the only thing that kept you sane, in this new land; perhaps, it kept you thinking that you were still and elfling at the bosom of your mother, back in the lands of Rivendell with Arwen not too far away. Slowly, Thranduil nodded, and taking his hand in yours, hummed.

“I would never want to harm your mind, ________, but you must know that there could be threats to us, beyond our control.” He begins, his other hand moving to stroke your cheek slowly, his forehead bowing to touch against your own. “I propose an overture.”

“Yes?” you cock an eyebrow, and clicking your tongue in annoyance, utter, “I am listening, husband mine.”

“You may read as long into the night as you wish to, and for as many a night, too. But there is a clause to this.” Thranduil tells you. “For three hours a day, you will train with the best soldiers and myself, to defend yourself should any attack come unto you.” He instructs.

Silently, you nod. “Starting tomorrow?”

Your husband agrees. “Yes, at midday. Do not tarry, or the library shall be locked to you.”

“Of course,” you huff, unperturbed by his idle threat. At this, you begin to change into your bedclothes, not allowing your eyes to break contact with your husbands as you undress. “But know you are overreacting, Thranduil. I am perfectly capable of keeping myself safe.”

“We shall see,” he replies, and snuffs out the candle by the bedside.

---

The next morning, you rose early, and dressing in clothes made for exercise (an event which certainly was not a favoured pastime of yours), you called a palace servant to aid you in tying your hair up and away for the training. You had woken so early, you did not take breakfast beside your husband in bed, nor watched him wake slowly in the sheets beside you. While he was doing such things, you were finding your way to the armoury, and suiting up for the training.

“My Queen,” A Sindarian soldier saluted upon your entry to the armoury, standing stock-still as a statute as your eyes perused the room full of weaponry and bodily protection, “I knew not of your arrival here,” he added, glancing to the otherwise clean room, except for the stray cobwebs that grew upon the uppermost of the vaulted ceilings.

You nodded at his words, “At ease,” you waved at the soldier to not stay at attention in your presence. “I am required by my husband to start a training session with himself. Would there be any sort of…protection to wear for an elf such as myself?” you ask him.

The soldier’s head bobbed at that. “Yes, my Queen. If you shall wish, I can have it brought to you to be fitted?” He asked.

“Yes, please,” you smile.

Not too long after, you are fitted into armour that covers your chest and legs, with leather circlets to protect your arms. Unlike the soldiers who wear chainmail, you look the part of somewhat of a novice, wearing training clothes, or perhaps a babe pretending to dress like the hero the firelight stories told of. But unpersuaded, you are ready to try to do your best with your (non-existent) fighting skills.

It was a good thing you woke before your husband; because only now dressed in the armour, he comes into the room, wearing his, looking like the Gods themselves.

“Are you ready?” He asks you.

You nod. “I believe so.”

Together, you walked to the courtyard, where you had once seen the soldiers training before. This day, it was well-lit, warmed by the rays of the summer sun, much like your childhood home. But now was not a time to be nostalgic. You were here to fight for your right to read the way you had always read. And your husband was a seasoned warrior, ready to teach you the ways of the battlefield that he had known since he was an elfling.

The soldier handed you a sword; you had never held a weapon before in your life, save for a bow in a mausoleum you had broken into on a dare as a child. The sword was heavier than any book you had ever held, and taking it in both hands, you held it at your side, pointed away from yourself.

"You need to defend yourself," Thranduil held his sword like it weighed of nothing but air, pointed toward you. Your mind was buzzing, but most of all, wondering how you were to defend yourself if you knew nothing of how it was to be done. "Then, defend."

Taking your sword, you move toward your husband, the blade moved widely as if a staff coming horizontal to his side. It is as sloppy as it is slow, and he defends your attack before you are even done the move. The sword flies from your hand, your wrist smarting from the jerk.

“Do you require me…?” The soldier asked your husband.

Thranduil shook his head. “No. Thank you, Gwaenor.” As you ducked to take sword from the pavement of the courtyard, Thranduil’s sword pointed at your jugular. It was hardly fair, but you opted to not make a remark on it. Your sharp tongue had gotten you into this mess, and it would not get you out of it. “Do you wish to read your books again?” he taunted. “Prove you can defend yourself.

Pushing the sword from your neck, you stand, your blade heavy in your hands. “Taunting, are we?” you narrow your eyes. “Possibly I would be better suited to a different sword, which I could handle with ease? Or maybe, you could decide to not teach me within a day, and expect progress.” At this, you had your sword up, slashed at his own blade.

Thranduil’s eyes were wide at your move, and as he went to parry, you blocked, the sword heavily held across your body to shield his move from touching you. It was just like you had seen the Elves practicing, in Rivendell; almost like a dance. By the time you had moved the sword, Thranduil moved forward, his blade dangerously close to your side. You knew he did not want to harm you, not his Queen, but the people he insisted would harm you would not hold back. Sidestepping, your feet receded from his reach, and by the time he had reacted, the force of your swing disarmed him, and yourself, the swords clattering to the pavement. The swing from your sword did not end there; no – it led to your feet falling over one another, and your body falling onto your husbands.

Together, you fell to the ground, the clanking of his and your armour filling your ears, your chest hitting his, your hair falling onto his face, your faces as close as they could be in the confines of the privacy of the royal bedchambers. Unlike any other times you had seen his face, though, it was flushed red with exertion, his eyes bright and searching yours as to why the pair of you here horizontal upon the pavement.

“________,” he whispered.

You laughed. “Room for improvement?” you asked him.

Thranduil nodded. “Most definitely,” he murmured, his eyes bright and beautiful.

“That’s good,” you smile. Perhaps it was the blood rushing through your brain, or the sight of your husband, the King of Mirkwood, leader of the army, the man behind most of the tactics of the woodland elves beneath your body, you were not sure, but slowly, you leant toward his lips, kissing them softly. “Then we can do this more often.”