#department of hidden sequences

[sugudoe]

☕️⌇ ◜ OFFICE HOURS ◞ ⠀⠀⠀

╰⠀boss!nanami x secretary!reader where . . . nanami kento can’t let people know the reality that he, under no circumstances, belongs to them. in fact, is quite the contrarie. everyone in this job is a puppet willingly letting him pull the strings. you more than anyone. after committing the bizarre mistake of telling nanami your true intentions with him, your boss is more than eager to comply your desires and just maybe, forget he first input of no belongings.

cw. too much swearing, fingering with others present (not caught), fem!reader, reader keeps daydreaming w. nanami, slightly age gap but non-important all legal, public sex, overstimulation, they both keep failing to hide, possessiveness, love bites, he slap her thigh once, bit of blood because of self lip biting 4.9k words, english is not my first language.

an. hi, hello, i want everyone to know i’m this man wife. this is, in fact, our love story, i used to serve his coffee, now i’m serving my puss— anyways, enjoy it. FYI nanami smells like either tom ford tobacco vanille or byredo bibliothèque.

There are certain events in the workplace ── a sequence, if you may ── that serves as a warning to everyone that Mr. Nanami Kento has arrived.

Not many months ago, you were clueless to the symphony of presentation he had, even before stepping into the room. Now, though, it’s engraved in your mind. Much like he is. It is, also, a dirty secret to have that you eagerly wait for it, everyday.

Halting the tack-tack of your fingers on the keyboard, your ears pick the first signal ── rushed footsteps. All opening space so he can pass without the need to raise his eyes, hidden by sunglasses, from his cellphone. The second is the whispers and swooning. Some, more brave than others, compliment him out loud. Always about his peculiar ties, and always he smiles back. Lastly, when Nanami is in your sight of view, he is accompanied by his signature scent that greets you before he even does.

The most raw way to describe his smell is by saying that you wish you could crack him open, and lay inside of him forever. It’s comfortable and addicting and it makes you want to kiss him until it can permanently fixates on you.

In more proper synonyms, Nanami Kento smells like caramel, wood and a bit smokey. He is hot to the touch, one can admit. You don’t fall far from these thoughts, but sometimes, when you are not eye-fucking your boss, you think he smells like a cozy cabin in the woods.

Perfect place to fuck him, though.

Is easy to imagine such a thing. You can picture him with thick sweat covering his body, like a second layer, as he comes inside with a hatchet and wood for the fireplace. And you can, also easily, imagine yourself on your knees sucking him so good, as way to thank him for keeping you warm.

It’s a Kento effect. Everywhere he passes, people tend to have a heat stroke. You are no better than the others. Probably worse. He, however, does not need to know that. Nanami’s plate is already filled to the brims with people gazing him as a snack, he doesn’t need his personal assistant to do the same.

Not in front of him, anyways.

So, when he comes near your table, and stop to take whatever you have for him (work related, honey, even when you wish it was your pussy), you present the calls he need to answer with a compliment for his shoes and a black coffee with pretzels.

He adores you.

You want to fuck him senseless.

A perfect imperfect balance of clashing feelings. His are professional, yours are not even close. He only steps over the boundaries when it’s to call you “Darling” and you only do so in your head, when you think of laying on his table and letting him feast on your dripping cunt.

He is gentle and caring.

You wouldn’t mind chanting his name loud enough for everyone to understand what’s happening.

He departs ways and you share a trembling sigh with your inner turmoil of emotions. He makes you have a constant fever. In fact, with him, everything is constant. You want to fuck him everyday, you touch yourself with his voice in your mind guiding you. He gets pretty out of character in your alone mind, though.

Real Nanami is a sweetheart. Your Nanami would make you cry while on his cock.

“── and the meeting room needs to be ready by eleven, you can do all that, darling?” He asks. He asks! He is talking with you.

“I, uh, I’m sorry, Mr. Kento,” You stutter before shifting your attention from your computer screen to his charming understandable smile. “could you repeat, please?”

“Sure, darling.”

You need to put extra neurons to work when eyeing his pink lips moving gracefully. Is it the same shade as his cock? Oh, you hoped so. That would be your favorite color, would paint your nails, your hair, anything.

“Got it now?” Nanami curls his lips as he question you. You can’t lie to him, so you sign that No, you did not payed attention. He chuckles and comes closer, resting both hands in fist on your table, letting himself down so he can be face to face with you. “I need you to order mine, yours and the lunch for the usual gentleman I talk about the finances, ── you have that noted, right?” You nod, and he proceeds. “Then, I want you to decorate the meeting room, the way you always do.” You nod again, and he moves back. You want to whine. “Good girl.”

Pause.

That’s new. It’s like achieving a new item in a game. A new level. That’s a prize, the greatest form of enlightenment one could have. You feel warm in your chest and cheeks, but dare not to sway your eyes from his twinkling ones. You wonder if he knows what you are thinking, or if he knows the power he has over you ── over everyone.

That’s Nanami Kento. The man with a dazzling aura, it touches all in proximity, no one survives him. If he wants, you are his. Hooked like a worm, willingly ready to be devoured by a fish, and the thing is no one knows if Nanami is said fish or the fisherman.

The secret about his success is not only the sweet talk he does, but the way he can easily take it away. And no one wants to be away from his warmth. You’ve seen it before, how he controls people ── some more powerful than your mind can comprehend, they all are puppets for him to pull the strings. He touches and praises them when they do what he wants, but Nanami grows cold and absent when they don’t.

Everyone wants to be loved by him, so everything this enterprise does, it revolves around Nanami.

He can be a scary man when he wants, and you’ve heard the tales, from time to time. With you, fortunately, he is just your nice boss. And a part of you wish he would cradle you into his arms and play with you like a marionete. His doll. Yeah, you want to be his fucking doll.

Tempted to ruin this lunch and be ravished by his famine, you shake your deranged thoughts and focus on ordering the food. Also asking for red velvet cookies for you and Mr. Gojo, the owner of this whole enterprise.

A cocky young man, that likes to devour your physique whenever you come inside the room. He is rich and beautiful and his name is always on the newspaper with gossip mostly involved. You could fall for him, could fuck him, but he is not Nanami.

He doesn’t boss you around gently, nor he makes you crave his scent on lonely nights. He makes you shy, but not timid and horny. In fact, you don’t even think about Satoru Gojo unless you are balancing his persona with Nanami’s. That’s sad for him.

You keep doing that ── the thoughts, the sexual dreams ── while preparing the meeting room with a charming decoration. Black glasses, black plates, all with golden details. Satoru Gojo himself payed for it, not that he knows or care. You commented once, Nanami liked, and moved his toys in favor of buying the expensive kitchen utensils you wanted. He even made sure to get some for your own house.

The last part is closing the thick black curtains around the room, for privacy. Someone comes inside the second you step back from the last tapestry, and when you turn, Nanami is there.

“How’s everything?” His fingers press on the table, moving swiftly with him, closer to you. “You’ve got cookies?” There is amusement in his question.

“Mr. Gojo’s secretary, Suguru, told me he was craving something sweet.” You turn back to the table behind you, stacking the sweet in a small mountain. “He always gets fussy if he doesn’t get his daily large intake of sugar.”

You grabbed one, knowing that half of it was rightfully yours, and twisted on your heels. Nanami scared you in two sequential situations after that. The first being his looming presence right in front of you, piercing gaze on you, shifting between your eyes. He was searching for something in it, so, you tried the hardest you could to give him something back. Eyes that said “please, fuck me.”

Maybe it worked. The next thing he did, that scared you, was bending down and biting your cookie. Eyes never leaving yours. You gulped, he smirked.

“Please, fuck me.”

He chocked.

See, your eyes were supposed to be the one speaking for you, but Nanami also has this super power that no one can lie to him. He wants something, he gets it delivered in a silver plate. He knows everyone’s secret, and yours were never safe, just happened to be hidden in a line of things that weren’t priority for him. Not until now, at least. He wanted to know what you were hiding, and you gave it to him.

“I ──” The words are struck behind your teeth. Nanami eagerly waits for them. “I’m so sorry.”

And with that, you leave him.

In a perfect world, he would have grabbed you by the wrists and fucked you against Satoru’s side of the table. But it’s not, because he lets you go. He has to let you go, even if you know that’s not the end of it. He will get you later, and like a little kid in science class, he will dissect everything you said. Therefore, during the thirty minutes of freedom you are granted in the bathroom, before the meeting starts, you try and fail and try and fail to conceal your thoughts into a perfect lie.

It doesn’t work. Not even a bit. Because Nanami knows you like the back of his hand, as much as he knows everyone that works with him. He knows when you lie and when you are truthful, and thanks to that, your work relationship had always been good ── you’ve never lied to him to stroke his ego. You were too busy wanting to stroke something else. Nanami let you slide your nasty comments about others, and he would share them, granting you some of their secrets.

He was a gossiper. He knew everything. You knew right there that lying would never work with him, so you just avoided to let him reach that horny part of yours that burned for him. Give him something else to sink his attention into. Your neck, you wanted, but rather you would feed him with gossips from your college classes, or what you got from Suguru Geto, your friend and Satoru’s assistant.

Now, you had already run out of distractions. Maybe that was his plan all along. If the world is correct, and it all falls down to Nanami’s desires, then maybe he was just waiting for you to crumble and admit. You had never been subtle with your eyes, anyway. That’s why he had been so fascinated about it, staring from time to time, trying to catch a glimpse of your true self, like a wishing star in a starry night.

The stars have gone dark, burned and busted away, when you come back to the meeting room and sit down on your designed chair, by his side. Nanami is focusing at you, again, like he needs more of your secrets at this moment. You have never gave him something so largue before, he is addicted.

But you, stubborn, appalled, stoic and all, think your plate of pasta is the most interesting thing in this whole world. You don’t eat much, because your throat is filled with all the words and screams you want to let out. You fear if you so much breathe loud, it will all come flooding this room.

“Are you annotating all of this in your head?” Nanami whispers in your ear, referring to the meeting now in progress. You sign no, and he sighs. “Your mind is far away, today.”

“Sorry.”

“What should I do with you?”

Someone coughs. An old man, standing by the edge of the table. He wants Nanami’s eyes on him, the praise, the goodness. Kento grants him half a smile, and that is not enough. Never will be. Everyone always wants more.

The lights are turned off when the projector is brought by Suguru, he comes and goes quickly, not before stealing a cookie from Satoru. That’s the first smile you present since the incident, and Nanami is back at staring at you with an intensity your heart fears but your pussy drips for. Are you scared? Petrified. And still, you are fucking horny.

He knows your secret, he is devoting his eyes to you, no matter what anyone else wants. He, in this moment, wants you. It might be because he needs to know what you meant, it might be because you are stroking his ego, finally. Or, you dare wonder, he is debating throwing you on that table and fucking you. Old men and Satoru aside, you wouldn’t mind. At all.

You take courage to look at him, and instantly you stare at his lips first, before his eyes. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. You go back at eyeing the projector. He does the same a long beat later. An even longer one, he slowly puts his hand on your exposed thigh, skirt raised since you set down.

You try to not fail in your stoic face, but you do so anyway. Because, for fuck’s sake, Nanami Kento has his hands on your thigh, his thumb in circular movements. Your lips instinctively curl up, he snorts by your side before going back to his serious demeanor.

You thought he would just keep his hands there, as if testing the water but deciding to stay near the shore. That’s not his case, though. Nanami loves to go to the beach, to swim far away beyond the waves, he likes to get damped. His hand move closer, and you open your legs absentmindedly. He wants, you give. As much as you have wanted, and now he is giving you.

When his hands are pressing against your lacy underwear, you hear a little “Fuck” coming from his mouth. You’re soaking wet.

It’s hard to keep your breathing pattern steady when he is near you. Even more harder when he has one finger slowly penetrating you. For the outsider viewer, everything is normal, and the two of you are just concentrated on the projector screen. The truth is you have no idea what’s going on, and maybe neither does him. You want to moan, and tug his hair until he groans. And you want him to replace his finger with his cock. You stare at the annotation book, empty of your handwriting, and use the opportunity of your head down to hang your mouth open and close your eyes.

Nanami shifts his eyes to you, and he drowns himself into your fucked gaze, even more so when he puts another finger. He can’t linger much, or others will notice, so he decides to keep his movements fluid and calm, and to stare at you from time to time.

He can multitask. Of-fucking-course. He asks questions, answers, he acts as if he is one hundred percent into whatever is going on. The reality is different. The truth is all about his curling fingers pressing themselves in a place inside you that will forever mark his presence there. Like a secret plaything only for him, no one, not even you, will ever reach that. It’s like he is signing it with either his name only or a “Nanami was here.”

You want him to stay, forever. Stay inside you, slow pacing, curling, sensitive.

He can’t, because what feels like hours later, turns into minutes. Everyone is raising up to leave, and he moves out of you so fast, you clench around nothing ── had you been quicker, grabbed his fingers, they all would know. You don’t give a fuck, you want them too know.

“Go to my office.” He whispers before going the opposite direction of the exit, and staying back to talk with the others. You walk without a goodbye, creating an excuse when Satoru wants some of your time.

Inside his office, you feel like breathing for the first time. It’s confusing, like your lungs are new and not fully connected to your esophagus, so it comes up weird ── in a mixture of laugh and relief, salted with a “what the actual fuck”.

You want to stop and think of what’s happening or what’s to happen, but you never had the chance. It’s a second later, and you are being pressed against his, now, locked door. His arms holding your hips, his head resting on your neck, sulking your scent much like you do with his.

“You meant it, right?” He asks, bringing his face up to yours. “You want me to fuck you. Please, darling, say you do, because I need to fuck you now, or I’ll go crazy.”

“Yes, please, please.” Midway through your desperate nod, Nanami lunged at you, catching your lips in his and conducting the rhythm, the strength.

He was so, so good. In all ways. His slow fingers had your legs shaking and his eager kiss has your mind fogged. All that he does seems to be professional, but you know deep down, this effect is all because is made by him. Just his presence alone could have you hot and bothered, but to actually be touched by him, it’s like adding the fire to your gasoline self.

You had always been meant to be burned by Nanami.

He hoist you up against the door, for a quick second his hands kept clawing your thighs, until he walked you both to his desk. He let you down on it, and at the same time, his kisses moved to your neck and shoulder. You could feel the scrape of his teeth, tempted to mark you with a significant bite ── tell them I’m yours, you thought.

He groaned against your flustered skin, because he knew he couldn’t do that. Mark you, that’s it. Fuck you? Oh, that he can, that he will do.

“I need you to be really quiet for me.” His hands are quick on his belt, dropping it with a thud against the floor. He raises your skirt to your waist, Nanami grumbled under his breath with the sight of your underwear. He had touched the elaborate details earlier, but to see it was another story. White, see through, a pink ribbon on the top. “I’m going to rip it.”

“No, you’re not!” Raising your leg, you pushed him away. Eyes still hypnotized by your clothed cunt. You removed the piece with a satisfied smirk. It had been months since you started to wear those type of under-wears, hoping one day this situation would come.

No one wants to fuck their sexy boss with granny’s pants.

The cold table coming in contact with your intimacy made you moan a bit, and Nanami’s attention was back on you. There you were, beautifully waiting for him. Fuck-me eyes, pleading mouth, hands gripping the edge of the desk. You were at his mercy, had been for a while now. And he? Well, Nanami was yours now, that’s what matter.

One of his fingers, the same one he had penetrated you earlier, came back inside you. Smearing itself with your wetness. His other hand gripped your hips, bringing you closer, and making him go deeper. There, right fucking there. He curled, and thrusted, and another two more out of nowhere.

Cruelty was not on the way he was ravishing your cunt, but the biting of your teeth on your hand. You have to be quiet, follow his orders, but Nanami seemed to want to make you scream. Let everyone know that he is fucking you. Nearly fucking you.

Combining this movements with the ones of earlier, you feel your insides getting tighter. He senses as well, and raises his peace once more. But, again, your legs push him away. Nanami doesn’t like that, he comes back quick, wet fingers anxious to reclaim their place inside you, but you sign no, and he halts. That’s it. The man that controls everyone, and he is at your mercy.

“I want to cum on your cock.” Maybe is the sweet and diabolical way you say, or the tilting of your head with a charming smile. What matters is, he complies right away. His pants fall, he takes off his blazer, and not a second later you are presented with what you’ve been craving for months.

Like a pregnant lady, you almost cry and fall on your knees, finally having your desire attended. He doesn’t want that either, instead Nanami takes a condom from his wallet. Before he puts it, his waiting fingers touch your cunt again, grabbing a bit of your liquid and smearing it on himself. You nearly ask him to throw the condom away.

Is a sinful sight. All of this. You on the desk, legs wide open. He in front of you, adjusting himself on the condom. Both groaning when he, fucking finally, align with your entrance, and slowly gets in. He is largue, and thick, and preparation might have been necessary had you not been daydreaming of this moments months ago.

Had he not been himself, that man that makes you drip with just a “good morning”, this might have hurt. Instead, it’s exhilarating to be parted by his cock. The condom does not stop you from feeling his veins tickling your walls, or his tip finally setting near your cervix. That was fucking new. Pleasant and scary, and fucking welcome as well.

“Say it again,” He asks, hands on both your hips and eyes looking over yours. Waiting for the stars to fall over the two of you. “tell me to fuck you.”

“Fuck m──” He doesn’t wait for you to end before he removes himself, and going back with a gushing sound. You nearly scream out of pleasure, but in the last second, you bite your lips strong enough to draw some blood. “Mmh, you fucking a-asshole.” He snorts at that, before slapping your thigh.

Seems that Nanami can do all the noises he wants. He groans against your skin, head hanging low to stare at the way you pussy suck his dick in and out. You have always been a good girl ── his good girl. Taking all the he gave you. Mostly work related, and now his cock. You truly were made just for him.

“You feel so fucking good, baby.” A moan scapes your hands, and he doesn’t bother spanking your leg again. He called you baby, and you’re strangling his dick perfectly. You can shout at this point, he is pussy fucked.

Removing your hands from your mouth, you decide to do something much better than guarding your pleasure. Instead, you open his button-up blue shirt. A dream come through, is what this day will be remembered as. Specially now, where he lets you do as you pleases, and you have the sight of his pecks ── bronzed from a beach trip he took last week, and glistening with sweat for your recent activities. You moaned again, before going for it, and marking him.

Nanami allowed you to do so. He only cared about holding your hips and raise your lower body, so he could make you meet his thrusts halfway. He didn’t hold a care in the world about his groaning getting louder, or the burning on his neck and chest caused by your eager mouth and teeth. Fuck that. Fuck everyone. The only thing he truly wanted was to be inside of you forever. To be planted in this moment of his life, on loop, being marked by you, having his cock milked out by your dripping cunt. That’s what his life was made for.

Nanami Kento had this aura that made everyone scramble for him and his left-overs, as a way to keep close. To say they have something that once was his. Because everyone knew that Nanami was no one’s property. This moment, this fuck, this pussy proved that statement to be contraire ── he was yours. From the first day he saw you and specially one hour ago, when he had eaten your cookie and you told him to fuck you. He knew right then that he would shift the whole balance of the world to give you what you want.

And if that’s his aching cock, fucking be it. It’s yours. You’re taking it so good, and barely paying attention to it. He keeps bruising your cervix, and you respond with little whimpers and more bites. He quicken his peace, you close your legs around his waist, as if giving him more opening.

A perfect synchrony.

“Wan’ to cum.” You mumble just right after he senses your wall get tight.

“C’mon, baby, ugh, cum f’me.”

“Mmh, fuck, ngha.”

You do right after, going limp on his arms, he slow his thrusting with a snort and laying you down on the desk. He shuffles something by your dazed-self side, before he brings a black sharpie near your cleavage. He kisses and licks and sucks on it, before opening the pen with his mouth, and signing a straight line.

“How many more can you give me, pretty?” You don’t answer in words, but with more quiet whimpers, when his thrusts go back to pounding you in a maniac pace. He holds your neck down, leaning to kiss you through your beautiful moans.

You’re sensitive, he knows. Because you keep closing more and more around his length, trying to make him cum, unknown to you that it only makes you closer to coming again. You hit your head on the desk when trying to follow his departed lips, Nanami has your neck again on his mouth, tasting your sweat and lotion, and all you can give him. It’s only when he bites it slightly, you release yourself once more.

“Mmph, fuck, fuck, argh.”

Nanami keeps jerking his hips onto yours, not even having cum once. He takes pleasure in yours, you can see. With a proud smirk, he grabs the sharpie once more, but this time, he makes a diagonal line that touches the top of the first.

“Mhm──!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, baby. Just a bit more.” He cooed at you, sweet tone diverging from his animalistic movements.

You’re not complaining, not even regretting. So you keep yourself down and let Nanami control both of yours fun. He is ruthless in his pace and fantastic with his kisses, he doesn’t mind your moaning anymore, or the fact that everyone on your floor already knows. What can they do? Stop you? Nanami will rip everyone apart and just return to your pussy. Threaten him? No one would dare. He is still their sweetheart, their most sacred prize, beautiful and shinning to look at. Never to have.

“I’m, ugh, I’m yours.” He grunts.

This time, you sense a shift in his thrusts. So methodical now sloppy, and his cock kept twitching inside of you, sending more waves of pleasure to your core. Yes, fucking finally, he was near.

“All fucking m──mine.” You agreed with his words, grabbing the back of his neck and slamming your lips together. “I’m yours, always had been.”

Nanami can’t even control himself anymore. He groans and pants as he releases himself inside you. With a mist of swearing and praises you could barely decipher. After all, his own release had triggered yours.

When you both had come back from the high, Nanami raised himself from your chest, and kissed you, tongues intertwining, teeth clashing and biting. When he parted, leaving you breathless, he had then pen in his hand again. It touched your skin, once more, connecting from the bottom of his last line, going up straight.

It’s a “N”.

“You think we can spell my name?” He asks, leaving your inside to throw his condom out. He opens a drawer, where a box with more is presented.

“That would be more 17 fucks.” You support your weight on your elbows while counting.

“It’s that a no?”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up your throat, before beckoning him closer. He does right away, kissing you hungrily once more. As if he is trying to record forever the taste of your mouth. He has your hair in his fists, pushing it back so he can go back to your, now, heavily marked neck.

“Let’s see how far can we go.” You indulge into his crazy erotic idea.

Nanami smiles triumphantly. He removes himself from your body, but doesn’t put condoms, instead, he falls on his knees, diving straight for your pussy.

Hours later, the sun beginning to set on the horizon, you leave his locked office with a smug smirk and timid eyes. Both accompanied by messy hair, flushed cheeks, marked neck and… “Nana” written on your chest.

“We’ll finish this later.” He comes behind you, closing his shirt, but letting the top buttons opened enough to catch a glimpse of your love marks on his chest. Specially the one with “Mine” marked in it.

[tinydappledleaf]

Character Exploration 🍎 Caleb (LaDS)

Caleb is late - and reflects on his situation.

-> an experimental piece to explore writing Caleb

Pairing: Caleb x MC, Caleb's perspective

Rating: T, comparable to game content

A personal vendetta against the fleet, a sabotaged navigational system, an overall messed up patrol flight through the darkness of Deepspace that should have ended more than a day prior.

It all leaves the colonel beyond tired when he finally sets his boot on the busy runway. A sharp gust of wind nearly whips his cap off, which is quickly adjusted in practiced ease. It’s a welcome sensation after days spent in the stagnant recycled air inside the ship. It takes his mind elsewhere for a split second before it returns to the situation at hand.

Hiccups like the recent one have gotten more frequent since the takeover of the Tuum Section.

None of it has been serious or professional enough to become truly worrisome. But the recurrence of similar incidents is wearing his patience thin, steadily gnawing away on his already strained nerves. Worst of all, it costs him precious time.

Time reserved for the one and only person preserving his ceaselessly assaulted sanity.

The colonel leaves Liam to deal with the aftermath, said man all too readily obliging the order despite having shared the taxing experience on ship. The Toring Chip, securely embedded behind the colonel’s right ear, effectively does its job, staving off the onslaught of guilt before it even gets the chance to manifest itself.

After all, there’s no one waiting for his obedient adjutant to come home that night.

Or at all.

'Who cares?' Whispers the chip in a quiet sequence of zeros and ones and preaches logic over emotion in an efficient release of calmative chemicals into the surrounding tissue. No friends, no compassion within the fleet’s hierarchy. Only subordinates and orders.

The chip does not affect, however, that tiny part of grey matter, closely guarded and hidden away behind a barrier of carefully crafted defense mechanisms, with but one desire:

Go home. See her. Finally.

The thought alone is enough to leave behind the 'colonel' for now.

Caleb strips himself of his restrictive uniform in a matter of seconds as soon as he’s boarded his personal aircraft, slipping a comfortable sweater over his remaining undershirt instead.

She loathes the mere sight of the intimidating uniform. He knows by the disdain evident in her gaze whenever it comes across her, whether he wears it or it’s just hanging on the coat rack by the front door. While she’s come to accept things the way they are now, at least he direly hopes she does, she does make no pretense of her despise for it. It leaves an acidic taste in his mouth, knowing that she knows. About the things he does. What he’s involved in. What doesn’t wash off when he showers, no matter how long he remains under the steady spray of water. No matter how hard he scrubs his skin sore.

Nonetheless, she comes to see him every other weekend. Voluntarily.

It soothes his conscience somewhat. That she still seeks him out on her own will. Despite everything, despite his own, now abandoned, aim to keep his distance to guard her safety, he can’t deny that he enjoys her presence. More than anything.

The more the irritation grows that some pesky nuisance dared keeping him away from her for longer than necessary. She had told him she’d arrive Saturday morning. The morning after his scheduled return. Now it’s well past midnight, a day later than planned, and he’s mourning the precious hours lost.

He checks his messages before he departs. A quick glance. To prepare himself.

There’re merely two notifications.

‘I’m at the station’, reads the first one, ‘Where are you?’

The second one, short and crisp: ‘I’m at your place now. Please be safe.’

He'd take any kind of annoyance or accusation over the quiet worry and resignation that echoes in her pick of words.

He can deal with her irritation; with the silent treatment she turns to in her anger that he's endured time and again throughout shared teenage years. What he cannot deal with is her disappointment. Her sad expression when he's yet again failed to keep a promise, no matter how tiny and unimportant it seems in the big picture.

A part of him hopes that she’s long gone to bed when he arrives. That her disappointment morphs into the preferred anger throughout her dreams. That she wakes up staring him down with annoyance in her pretty eyes as soon as she finds him in the kitchen prepping her favorites for breakfast. He can make it up to her then. Pamper her until she forgives him for standing her up.

That thought in mind, he takes to the sky.

The way home - now that he finally allows himself to call it that ever since she’s taken it upon herself to make it one - encompasses merely a few quiet minutes of rumbling thoughts and engine before his aircraft descends through the barriers surrounding his property. The landing is smooth, as it always is, despite the unease brewing steadily in Caleb's chest. The well-known tightness sits at war with a surge of pleasant anticipation to see her as he unlocks the door and steps across the threshold.

The house is as quiet as its owner as he disposes of his leather coat at the door. Quiet enough to make him wonder if she stayed at all.

A treacherous whisper in the back of his mind tells him she would be better off leaving and never coming back. Safe from the danger that lurks in the shadows around his presence. Safe from him and what he has become - Or has always been? He's not even certain of that himself anymore. Blame it on a lack of confidence or the murky spaces left behind by yet another set of (probably) unremarkable memories dissolved into nothing but muddled fog.

But he's too dreadfully egoistic for that. Too dependent on her sweet smiles and fond gazes as his fuel to power onwards.

Too addicted.

It’s despicable in many ways. But guilt and shame have long since faded into the background of his mind. If she comes to him willingly, he tells himself, he may as well allow her and keep her close to shield her from the creeping peril all around.

His silent steps on sock-clad feet carry him through the foyer while he tries not to expect anything, still.

The faint light from the kitchen isle illuminates the living room ahead. He spots half a meal abandoned at the table, cooking utensils already cleaned and neatly arranged to dry in his absence.

A hint that she’s stuck around. He barely shifts his gaze when he spots her barely a few feet away on the couch.

She's haphazardly bundled in a throw blanket, knees tucked to her tummy and hands comfortably curled beneath her chin.

It occurs to him that she must have tried to keep her eyes open until his arrival, regardless of the exhausting mission she had just accomplished herself before setting out to visit Skyhaven. The realization tugs at his heart in an unpleasant way, stirring the captious chip awake again unbidden. He ignores it in defiance and grinds his teeth through the threatening buzz that rattles his mind. Persistent little thing.

Once it quiets down, he redirects his focus to the sleeping girl.

She appears much smaller, curled up like this, much more vulnerable than she truly is these days.

She no longer is the little girl clinging to his sleeve at the faint and distant rumble of thunder. He's well aware that she's grown into a formidable fighter herself. Brave and strong, laughing into the face of danger willingly as she snoops around places that she should definitely not.

His little pip has grown resilient through all the years spent together, blossomed into something bolder and more beautiful than he could have ever imagined.

But that doesn't quell his ever-present desire to protect her. To hide her away from anyone or anything that might dare cause her harm. He's promised her that. So many times, in silence or aloud, whenever her bright mind had been wiped clear, he's lost count. It’s the one vow he will never break, for as long as his stubborn heart keeps beating alongside hers.

He'll keep her safe and sound.

Gentle as he possibly can, he leans down to scoop her into his arms, carry her to bed, lest she wake with a crick in her neck come morning.

Only then does he take notice of the familiar piece of fabric spilling through the gaps between her fingers. Her nose is buried into it, muffling each deep and steady breath she takes.

It’s a worn shirt he'd left on the side of his bed in a hurry. None of the ones he'd brought from Linkon as he left for the DAA. He'd found her snatching those often enough, fresh from the clothesline, claiming them for herself to lounge in. He's used to that, as much as he can be, seeing her in his clothes.

But this one.

This one is recently bought. A necessity now that he gets (and wants) to spend more time out of uniform.

He’d understand she’d grab one of those old, well-acquainted shirts to wallow in memories… but this?

You killed my Caleb.

The echo of her hissed words still stings. It accompanies him, ricochets off the inside of his skull relentlessly. He'd begrudgingly made peace with the fact that she very much rejects who he is now. That she desperately hopes to somehow rediscover the boy that she's known her whole life. But this.

This tiny, unimposing gesture.

He freezes before his fingers touch her sleeping form, emotion welling up, swirling into a dangerous maelstrom of hope and sorrow alike.

A murmur of her name slips past his lips, and she stirs to the familiar sound, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as her sleepy eyes blink open.

Her drowsy gaze finds his in the twilit room and her smile stretches.

"Lebby," she mutters, evidently still half-asleep.

He hasn't heard that one in a while - the age-old nickname kickstarts his brain back into functioning.

"'m here," he affirms, hushed as his unsteady voice allows him to speak, as not to fully rouse her from sleep.

She hums, sounding utterly content, and winds her arms around his neck as he proceeds to pick her up.

Nuzzling her face into his shoulder, she breathes him in, and his mind teeters dangerously on the edge of the cold abyss again.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Resist.

Relax.

This is what it’s all for. He refuses to give in to the persistent chip, denies it access to this one beautiful gain of his whole twisted situation.

Damn the chip. Damn Ever. Damn fucking everyone that dares messing up what he feels for her. He sears the moment into his memory, sealing it securely behind unbreakable barriers.

Her warmth, her scent, her weight in his embrace. This belongs to him and her alone.

"I'll always come back to you," he murmurs and presses a tender kiss to the side of her head. "For as long as I breathe."

The emotional strain only adds to his present exhaustion, the hammering pain within his head as agonizing as ever, and the brief walk to her room grows slow and sluggish. It so happens that, after he’s carefully lowered her onto the mattress, he doesn’t resist her pull when she refuses to let go of his neck.

“Clingy,” he mutters, but doesn’t mean it, as he gives in and lets her topple him over and straight beside her onto the welcoming bed beneath.

It’s far from comfortable; Limbs tangled, her elbow digging into his ribs, his cheek smushed into the cool case of her pillow. Still, he revels in the onslaught of sensation, savors the dull ache that spreads along his awkwardly arched spine. Silence reigns beyond the occasional creak of bones and bed until her voice breaks once more.

She adjusts herself, curls her arms around his bicep instead.

“You’re late, dummy…”

Her soft voice is muffled against his shoulder, barely clear enough for him to grasp.

“But I’m happy you’re home…”

Yeah, thinks Caleb, I am, and wraps his hand around her smaller one.

Enveloped in the shelter of her presence, lastly he yields the steady pull of sleep...

[countlessofvoids]

List of favourite httyd scenes?

I know the second movie has obvious flaws and has been kind of deglared by fans as the worse part of the franchise, but it does have most of the scenes I consider my favorite. It might lack in the writing department, but the directing is amazing.

Stoick's ship is my absolute number one. The composition, the dialogue, the music - you can just feel the artistry and emotion put into it. This scene is exactly why I can easily enjoy the movie even with it's faulty writing.

Next would be the entire intro sequence. I love when movies/series have something of a music video in them lmao. Meanwhile dragon racing I think is the best showcase of Snotlout, Fishlegs & the twins' characters and a very fun part of the worldbuilding. If I have to be nitpicky - my one complaint would be "Where No One Goes" getting interrupted by Hiccup nearly crashing into a cliff. Which was a bit useless, outside of making a reference to how Toothless saved him in the first movie.

Then there's Flying with Mother. It's great as a whole, but I especially love when Valka asks Hiccup if he can forgive her for abandoning him. I think that might be the most 'human' moment in the entirety of HTTYD.

And moments like these is what I miss in The Hidden World. I just couldn't feel any emotional connection to anything nor was I ever 'smitten' by a scene. I liked some bits of the armada battle and the fall sequence came close, but that one's ruined by what happens before and right after.

[baldieboi]

Shadows Within Shadows

Seventeen | part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

@w-40-k @ghrgrsfdesfrfg

Cassian¹ withdrew deeper into the shadow of the maintenance alcove, his midnight blue armor adjusted to absorb rather than reflect the dim light of the corridor. His breathing slowed to an imperceptible rhythm, a technique learned from his youth on Nostramo.

The Word Bearer had noticed something. Not him specifically but something.

Interesting.

The chaplain had changed his path, chosen an unexpected corridor. A test? A coincidence? Either way Cassian had nearly been caught flat footed which was an unforgivable error for one trained in the art of terror.

He watched Erebus disappear around a corner then waited seventeen heartbeats before moving. Seventeen. A number of ill-omen on Nostramo.² Appropriate given how many days remained until the Word Bearers departed.

The soft hiss of his armor's joints was dampened by the modifications his Legion's tech-marines had implemented before this self-assigned mission. The sound suppression wasn't perfect, nothing was, but it was sufficient to fool most ears. Even transhuman ones.

But the First Chaplain wasn't most ears. That was becoming increasingly apparent.

Cassian slipped between maintenance shafts, following a route that bypassed the main corridors. His knowledge of the Vengeful Spirit's layout had become intimate over the months of his stay. It was probably better, he suspected, than many who had served on her for years.

"Sixteen junctions," he whispered to himself, counting down as he moved. "Fifteen. Fourteen." The habit kept his mind focused, prevented the whispers that sometimes came when he was too long in darkness.

His purpose here had evolved since its inception. What began as a challenge, could a Night Lord remain undetected aboard the flagship of the Emperor's favored son?, had become something more complex. He'd gathered intelligence as expected of him but he'd also found something unexpectedly satisfying in becoming the ship's ghost.

Cassian always watches. The phrase brought a cold smile to his lips. The mortal crew's fear was a soft thing, not the sharp terror his Legion typically cultivated. A ghost story rather than a horror.

Until now it had been merely amusing to watch how the myth spread. Now it might prove problematic.

He paused at a junction, head tilted, listening for the faint sounds of ship's operations. His helm's autosenses picked up the elevated heartbeats of a maintenance crew three corridors over, nothing unusual. But something else lingered in the air. A scent that didn't belong.

Incense.

Faint but distinctive. The kind used in Word Bearer rituals.

Cassian's eyes narrowed behind his helm. Erebus was laying groundwork already. Marking territories perhaps. Or simply creating sensory traps to detect intruders.

Clever.

He backtracked, choosing an alternate route. Tonight called for observation, not confrontation. The First Chaplain was up to something beyond the official reasons for his visit. Cassian had witnessed enough meetings and secretive data transfers to be certain of that.

And now Erebus was aware that someone was watching. This complicated matters.

Cassian reached a maintenance shaft that would take him to the lower decks where he'd established one of several hidden niches. As he climbed down, his thoughts turned tactical.

The Word Bearer would seek information first. Logical. Methodical. He would mine the human crew for rumors, perhaps seek access to security logs. Cassian had measures in place to counter the latter, phantom data trails, false sightings in impossible sequences. The confusion would buy time.

But the former... The humans talked. Always talked. Their fear of 'Cassian' was controlled, predictable. They used it to police themselves. If Erebus began asking questions...

A cold spark of anticipation ignited in Cassian's chest. This could be the true test he'd been seeking.

He reached his hidden alcove, a maintenance bay supposedly decommissioned due to radiation leakage. The warning runes kept the curious away and his own modifications ensured no actual radiation signatures registered on scans.

Inside he removed his helm and set it on the small workbench. The recycled air felt stale against his pale skin. His eyes, naturally adapted to Nostramo's eternal night, had no need for the dim illumination he permitted himself but light helped organize thoughts.

"Seventeen days," he murmured, voice hoarse from disuse.

He began cataloging what he knew of Erebus, both from observation and Legion intelligence. The Word Bearer was more than it appeared to the casual viewers. Cassian wasn't sure if it was danger or something else but since the specifics of that possible danger remained elusive. He operated through layers of meaning and suggestion. Even his words of friendship carried hidden barbs.

A worthy opponent, then.

Cassian felt the corner of his mouth twitch upward. He wouldn't just hide from the First Chaplain. That would be... inefficient. Better to control what Erebus discovered. Feed him half-truths. Lead him down carefully constructed paths.

After all sometimes the best way to stay hidden was to be seen exactly where and when you chose.

He began preparing for tomorrow. The hunt had begun.

And night was his domain.

Note: I admit that a Night Lord is probably a bit way too predictable, however his reasons to be there shouldn't be outlandish. Or probably it is. I kind of liked the idea and had to go through with it.

¹His real name is unknown to you. For now. He is an oc, of course, so it is perhaps irrelevant.

²I just made it up to fit the title and everything. Erebus is of the XVIIth legion, seventeen days... I had to.

[ljblueteak]

Richard Hamilton Swingeing London 67 poster and Beatles 68 poster

Text from Andrew Wilson's Swingeing London 67

The [Beatles] poster, described by Hamilton as a 'give-away' print, was the result of a fairly complex design process that took about two weeks to complete, with daily visits from Paul McCartney, the one Beatle who worked directly with Hamilton on the project and who had prior knowledge, through[Robert] Fraser, of Hamilton's work--he had earlier bought one of the Solomon R. Guggenheim (1965) screenprints from the 1966 exhibition of the series that he had helped hang.

This relationship gave Hamilton the freedom to develop his idea for the poster and the whole design project without interference from the other band members, Yoko Ono, or the record company.

The poster shows George Harrison, John Lennon, McCartney and Ringo Starr as distinct individuals. This is in sharp contrast to the individual John Kelly portraits, in which the similarities of pose, gaze, and lighting, conforming to the aesthetics of of a record company's publicity department, portray them as members of a band.

The seemingly casual pinboard aesthetic by which these informal photographs were arranged was determined primarily as a solution to crucial design issues (echoing his decision to order the collage for Swingeing London 67--poster as newspaper columns, with headline at top left).

The sheet had to be folded three times in order to be inserted into the square album sleeve, and this obliged Hamilton to approach it as 'a series of subsidiary compositions. The top right and left-hand square are front and back of the folder and and had to independently stand as well as be a double spread together. The bottom four squares can be read independently and as a group of four. They all mate together when opened up and used as wall decoration.'

The top left-hand panel is what is seen first, and it presents the songwriting duo of Lennon and McCartney. Lennon is shown in blue light, singing. The image has probably been taken from a television screen, and the attendant distortion and blue glow are unflattering.

The image of Lennon overlays the bottom right corner of an equally unusual portrait of McCartney in a bathtub, his head half submerged, soapy suds giving him a halo. Running beneath the two portraits is a fabricated contact strip that includes an image of Lennon in front of one of his wall drawings; the band in a recording session...in which they are, unusually, playing brass instruments; and a colour image from the recording of 'Hey Jude' (1968).

This sense of fragmentation, of hidden codes and messages, echoes both the 'guarded privacy and locked rooms' and the 'disturbing, dreamlike darkness' that have been identified in the album, inviting the fan to imagine the band members' private worlds, and hinting at the beginning of the band's disintegration.

The dominant image of the poster's top right panel, opposite Lennon and McCartney, is of George Harrison. This portrait casts him in a mystical, otherworldly and contemplative light, with the right side of his face obscured and out of focus....

There are very few collective photographs of the band: playing in recording sessions or in filmed concerts; with Harold Wilson after they had each received the MBE; and a sequence of them doing the 'business' as they re-sign their contract with EMI.

Instead, the poster emphasizes the individual activities of John, Paul, George and Ringo around the time of the collage. Starr is shown with his co-star from the film Candy (1968), Ewa Aulin, and also dancing with Liz Taylor (wife of his other co-star in the film, Richard Burton). Lennon is shown becoming the working-class hero. Yoko Ono appears just twice: in a self-portrait by Lennon of the naked couple, and in an image of a naked Lennon sitting cross-legged in bed talking on the phone, as its stretched cord cuts her out-of-focus head in two--cancelling her identity.

Of the band, it is McCartney who emerges as the poster's dominant figure. Hamilton has said how The Beatles contains 'arcane touches which only The Beatles' more intimate associates were likely to smile at,' and yet such details--such as the doubled image of a shut door or McCartney 'pole dancing' both naked and clothed--are not at the cost of the poster's legibility. At its centre is the reverse of a photograph, a gift to one of the band, bearing a lipstick imprint and a groupie's imploring words: 'I love you.'

In all this, Hamilton's fundamental aim for The Beatles was that it should reach a large audience and be as accessible as the cover design was remote. This was not a new subject for Hamilton. My Marilyn had already adopted, three years earlier, the motif of the publicity photograph and the manipulation of celebrity image as a subject. What is different here is Hamilton's direct participation in popular culture: The Beatles, like Swingeing London 67--poster, shows him not only constructing work with a subject that revolves around the manipulation and production of pop celebrity imagery, but also inserting these works into the mass circulation of popular culture.

--Andrew Wilson. Bold mine.

[jadevalentine-writes]

WIP...Saturday???

In the slipstream today! Reread Chapters 1 and 2 of Welcome to the Mod Shop and decided to crack open Chapter 3. Had much more written than I remembered and decided to add to it this evening. Below is a snippet of the beginning (aka what I had written before this evening). Enjoy! (Tagging @hidden-scarlet-whispers because I thought you would enjoy! :) )

Osiris had been with Saint through many deaths, but the quantity did not make each one easier. There was always that moment of panic, that cold pool of dread in his stomach at the momentary realization that Saint was dead. Then Geppetto would twist in a burst of light and his beloved would breathe once more. 

Osiris would breathe too, and swallow any tears around an irrational lump in his throat.

Saint waking up from surgery was different and the differences made it simultaneously comforting and terrifying.

"He'll be a bit groggy, maybe even completely disorientated," Dr. Rose said calmly after the surgery was completed and her assistant cleaned up. "Be calm and give him time. Shutdowns are different from dying and rezzing, so his recovery time may be a few minutes instead of a few seconds. His system basically has to recalibrate and install software for the new peripheral, hence the extra time. If he's not functioning normally in ten minutes, you can press the red button near the surgery door. Clara or I will be here within fifteen seconds to assist. Do you understand?"

Osiris glanced at the emergency button near the door, glowing like a Vex's singular eye behind its protective glass flap. He nodded.

"I understand."

"Good." Dr. Rose smiled and clasped her hands together. "Now the fun part! The peripheral will be fully operational upon start-up. You are encouraged to ensure it is one-hundred percent operational before departing today, though you can come back at any time for a tune-up, recalibration, or any maintenance. A lifetime warranty is guaranteed with any augment.”

Osiris nodded sagely as he held Saint’s cool and motionless hand. 

“And if there are any issues with the peripheral during testing?”

Dr. Rose grinned and pointed at the emergency button near the door. “Just give it a press and Clara and I can assist.”

“Sounds easy enough.” Osiris exhaled as he looked at the dark voids where Saint’s light once was. “I’m ready.”

Dr. Rose nodded and motioned for Clara as they began the reboot sequence. First the shutdown circuits and relay pathways were brought back online. Osiris studied Saint’s motionless face intently as diagnostics were run to gauge the connections. 

“Everything looks green,” Clara said. “Circuits and pathways are clear.”

“Good. Proceeding with wake-up call.” 

Dr. Rose tapped a key and Osiris swore he heard the moment power once again flooded through Saint, like a warm electrical hum on the edge of his hearing. Osiris felt like he his lungs could expand fully for the first time since the shutdown was executed. 

“New hardware is receiving power and the logic panel is patching the required software now,” Clara reported. “New peripheral should be operational in under two minutes.”

“Excellent.” Dr. Rose smiled and turned to Osiris. “We’ll leave you two to it then.” 

Dr. Rose and Clara quietly moved towards the exit. Before departing, Dr. Rose gave Osiris a double thumbs up. The professionalism of the action could be argued, but Osiris would be lying if he did not admit it made him smile. When the surgical suite door slid closed behind her, Osiris turned his attention back to his beloved. 

Saint’s hand was starting to warm, though Osiris was not certain if it was from Saint’s systems or his own sweaty palm. Tentatively, he squeezed Saint’s hand and feared he would not get a response. 

He silently gasped in relief when the Exo’s fingers twitched against his own. Then the Titan began to shift slightly on the table.

[a-vivid-dreamer]

Return to Sender (Reincarnation) AU (2)

He is the one helping to sneak a trespassing, young maiden into the Luofu. Yet, she walked slightly ahead of him with ease and he was the one left nervous.

“Isn’t this a bit backward…?”

“Why should I worry when you are looking after me?”

[Keep Reading] for Threadfic ⬇️

Vibrant gold meets soothing peridot.

This is the moment the threads woven onto their beings finally intersect. It was unpredictable. It was unexpected.

Around them, there is the gentle hum of the small ship’s engine. The cargo within the room barely shifts, its contents softly rattling at most as they ride along the smooth journey.

The young lady appears to be around his age, dressed in clothing he swore he saw some inhabits wear on the planet they just departed from. And as alert and alarmed as he is to stumble upon a stowaway, he couldn’t bring himself to point his glaive at her.

She is slender and pale, a little concerningly so (He swore he saw the tail end of some bandages as well hidden under the long fabrics).

As he opens his mouth to speak, he pauses as she lifted a finger before her lips as a gesture of silence. She speaks and he finds himself compelled to listen to her soft voice and gentle tone. “I mean no harm for I carry no malice, nor ill intentions. I am aware that I have trespassed, but if you are to turn me in, I will accept any punishment and abide by the laws of your home. However, all that I ask is to not be returned to my planet.”

He was struck silent, uncertain of how to act. He was merely a Cloud Knight. He was unsure of how to handle such an…odd circumstance.

He takes another evaluation of her clothing and deems that she must be no typical civilian. Possibly someone of a higher position. And the designs remind him of the ones he saw the planet’s people wearing near the church grounds.

Ah…he really hopes the Xianzhou isn’t going to end up unintentionally kidnapping a religiously important person such as a priest.

“…I apologize, miss. I’m merely a Cloud Knight. I cannot guarantee that your conditions will be met. That is for my superiors to decide.” He frowned a bit as he saw her somewhat dejected yet resigned expression.

Against his better judgement, he sighed before continuing. “However…I’d be willing to help keep your presence here undetected until the ship returns to the Luofu. From there, the best I could do is sneak you off & let you go. Whatever you plan to do from there is up to you.”

She looks at him with some surprise, and something in his conscience lightens at the grateful hope in her eyes. “Thank you. Any assistance is appreciated, and I’m aware I’m in no position to ask anything from you.”

“It’s fine.” (Hopefully.) He clears his throat.

“Ah, I’m Jing Yuan. May I know your name?”

“Ottilia.”

Curiously, he tests her name on his tongue, the sequence of sounds unfamiliar to him. She seems to take notice and smiled kindly. “…How about you refer to me with a name from your home?”

He blinks with surprise before considering it seriously. He eventually ends up thoughtfully mumbling a name to himself that seems to stick.

“That sounds fine.”

He startles out of his thoughts, not realizing he had spoken loud enough to be heard. “Ah, are…are you sure? You’re not worried it could mean something bad?”

“You seem rather genuine. So, I’ll trust your judgement.” She gives a pleased hum before meeting his gaze.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Jing Yuan. You may refer to me as, Yi.”

[End]

[besttropeveershowdown]

Propaganda Time!

I am back with more Propaganda about why "All just a Dream" is NOT an inherently bad/annoying trope and just frequently misused!

And I bring more examples, funnily enough also all from DC animated shows (someone in their writing department knows what they are doing, damn!)

The first two examples I wont spoil, they are both episodes of Batman the Animated Series, and while they both follow the classic formula to a T, they also make it very clear that the point was never about what happened in the dream, but what the dream can tell us about the dreamer and how they view themselves and the world around them.

That also makes both episodes very re-watchable because the context of the dream makes if very easy to pick up on all the details hidden everywhere, though it also helps that this show was a "villain-of-the-week"-style anthology with almost no overlapping storytelling or arcs that could be disrupted by dream plots.

But wait, there's more:

The follow up Shows Justice League and Justice League Unlimited have their own Dream-Plots and they try something else: Both the two-parter "Only a Dream" and "For the Man Who has Everything" reveal that they are Dream-Plots very early on and add an outside perspective from the Dreamers allies & friends (both dreams are caused by supervillain shenanigans).

One could argue that that disqualifies them as "Only a Dream" Episodes, but I would disagree. Both episodes center their main-plot around characters in a dream world that, ultimately, can have no consequences in the real world.

What they do is, once again, show us those characters hopes, fears, and, well, dreams. And due to the early reveal, we are aware of that and can pick up all those bits of characterization immediately as we watch the characters struggle with them. As a bonus on top, due to the outside perspective there is an easy way for those stories to show the consequences the dream-sequences can actually have, as the dreamers, once they are awake, have to deal with and can (or refuse to!) share the contents of their dreams and what they might say about them.

Lastly, I realized while writing this, that, in recent years, episodes that enrage me like the worst dream-plots used to, are no longer dream plots!

Both Time-travel and Alternate Dimensions/Universes have become very popular to pull basically the same thing as a dream plot would: Show cool crazy twists and turns and then just undo everything with the snap of a finger.

(If you want to hurt yourself for no reason, Ladybug season 3 has an episode that is half time-travel, half dimension-travel and all terrible.)

It's as if some writers remembered how hated dream-plots were and thought that the dreams were the problem, not everything else, which, if you ask me, is just more proof that dream-plots are unfairly maligned.

Anyway, wall of text over, thanks for coming to my Ted talk!

Your propaganda has been noted!

[darkmaga-returns]

The US might also share India’s concerns that a hidden Pakistani hand is playing a role in all of this.

Director of National Intelligence Tulsi Gabbard sparked a scandal when she recently told Indian media during her trip to the country that Trump 2.0 is concerned about the persecution of minorities and growing caliphate threats in Bangladesh. That country’s interim authorities predictably denied that either is a problem, which prompted a State Department spokesman to remind them that “We’re watching.” This back-and-forth shows that the future of their ties is no longer as clear-cut as before.

Former Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina, many Indian observers, and a sizeable number of foreign ones believe that the US played a role in Bangladesh’s regime change sequence last summer. Trump claimed that “There was no role for our deep state” when asked about this last month during Modi’s visit, but regardless of whether he’s taken at his word, Tulsi’s comments show that the US is no longer giving Bangladesh’s new rulers a blank check. They might even sanction them if the situation deteriorates.

Their interests in minority rights there might stem from a desire to repair the damage that the last administration dealt to bilateral ties by championing what’s now India’s top cause in Bangladesh, which is in spite of possibly pressuring it on tariffs and trade, while the caliphate one is of more direct importance. Hasina was a heavy-handed secular leader who was overthrown by Islamist-instigated street violence and the “Arab Spring” precedent shows that such regime changes usually end badly with time.

[crazysodomite]

my issues with blasphemous

I don't dislike this game at all. I love the art direction and I find the gameplay to be mostly enjoyable. But it is flawed.

As I've said, the art direction and design is basically flawless to my taste. The enemies look nice and (mostly) memorable, the NPCs and bosses look amazing, the environment art is great. I basically don't have any complaints in that department.

The OST is pretty forgettable IMO. Not bad but also not something I'd listen to on my own time. If you play a song from the OST I wouldn't be able to tell you which area/boss it's from. The voice acting is REALLY GOOD though

The controls are fine. It takes some time to get used to how long it takes for the character to recover from hitting an enemy. For example there are often times when you're doing your combo and an enemy hits you during it without you having any time to respond. Because when you stop hitting you don't get control of your character immediately. It's not necessarily a bad thing, but something to keep in mind and not get greedy during fights.

I mostly like the parry mechanic. Some bosses or enemies make it purposefully annoying to parry their attacks by delaying their attack telegraphs so you end up spamming parry because you're not sure when the attack is even going to come (this is especially egregious with isidora. FUCK her and her stupid delayed telegraphs). It's also sometimes unclear what you can and can't parry. The dodge. This game severely lacks something similar to the shadow dash in hollow knight that lets you dodge through enemies or attacks. SOMETIMES you can dodge through enemies. SOMETIMES you can't. Some bosses let you dodge through them during some attacks, and some don't. This inconsistency is extremely annoying and leads to situations where you don't even feel like you're at fault for receiving damage. If you must have contact damage AND no ability to dash through attacks/enemies at least have a clear way to tell when and where you can dash so it's not just a game of trying to randomly dash through stuff just to remember when you can. The map. Each area generally takes up only a few screens and generally, if you're dealing with the enemies quickly, you will be able to move through the game pretty fast. Exploring the map and finding secrets and places you haven't explored yet is pretty fun and satisfying.

That being said, a lot of the "secrets" are straight up bullshit. There's a lot of secret rooms, breakable walls, puzzles, etc. that are basically impossible to find without looking it up first, or literally walking around the map while hitting every wall and plunge attacking every floor. There are basically no signs to tell you a wall is breakable. You need to try every wall or look it up, or just happen to hit it randomly. This is bad because the game locks you out of essential upgrades and you wouldn't even be aware that you're missing something unless you look it up or purposefully go around the whole map to try to somehow find those secrets. And the game Requires you to find all the hidden rooms on the map for 100% completion.

By the time I finished the game I didn't even have half of the magic bar upgrades because most of them were hidden behind impossible to find breakable walls.

Some of the areas lacked an identity and were really forgettable (like patio of silent steps or mountains of endless dusk)

Maybe I should've used the hand relic, but I'll get to that later.

The quests. It is really unintuitive to figure out what you're supposed to do for any given quest. Most of them (including the ones revolving around the endings) require you to do completely arbitrary sequences of actions. You basically need to have a guide open to not mess up any given quest, and there are ways to mess up in almost every one. Which I guess encourages replayability but you could play this game several times without even realizing that you "messed up" or didn't complete a quest. It's also not very fun to aimlessly roam around talking to every npc just to figure out what you're supposed to do with any given quest item.

Some people try to justify this by saying "thats how souls games do it and it's not supposed to be intuitive" but that's a really stupid excuse. Just because the souls games do something (and I'm not even sure they do this) doesn't mean it's good game design! Something being really unintuitive doesn't make it hard or interesting, it just leaves players confused or not even realizing that they're doing something wrong.

One of the first things you see when you look up "blasphemous quests" is a post titled "Things I had to look up too" which isn't a good sign!

Let's talk about some of the quests:

Tirso/Kissers of Wounds: Quest that basically revolves around giving items to an NPC that has an arbitrary fail condition so subtle you're probably not going to figure out you "failed" the quest unless you look it up

Ludovico: another "give item to npc" quest but this time it's clear what you need to give to him and there's no arbitrary fail condition, great!

Gemino: now this quest wouldn't be bad if you didn't fail it by just entering the area where the npc is located. you can fail this quest without even talking to this npc because he requires you to go to the boss as soon as you enter the screen he is on, which is frustrating. especially considering you can miss out on quite a lot by failing this quest. but at least the objectives of this quest are clear so if you decide to do a second playthrough you know what to do (unless you accidentally entered and exited that area and beat another boss, then tough luck to you)

redento: another overall good quest. you meet the npc, you help him out, you receive rewards. the ending though can be pretty confusing because you need to equip all the items he gave you. but it doesn't seem too hard to figure out what to do.

cleofas: this one is pretty okay with how it interacts with other npcs but some parts can be either confusing or straight up impossible without looking it up. i wouldn't be able to figure out that i was supposed to give socorro the marks because there's no indication that's what she wanted me to do? otherwise, you probably can figure it out on your own

i'm not gonna get too mad on the achievement involving cleofas and redento because well, it's an achievement. it's probably fine for it to be a bit unintuitive

egg of deformity: i simply wouldn't be able to figure out the sequence of actions required of me for completing this quest.

the... whatever the fuck is the quest involving perpetva, her brother, the traitor eyes and crisanta... that quest is also probably impossible to do without starting a clean save Just for this quest

most of the other quests boil down to "give npc all the items they want and the quest is completed"

viridiana is probably the most intuitive quest. she has several different outcomes and it's pretty easy to figure out what to do to get different ones on different playthroughs. this is a quest for replayability done right in my opinion. when you interact with her you can always wonder "what happens if i do this other thing" and then get it in a different playthrough.

now the items.

a lot of the rosary beads feel like padding. there's like, 15 or more beads that basically all do the same thing but with different number values.

a bead that gives 15% protection from physical damage and a bead that gives 35% protection. and theres several of those for each damage type. i don't necessarily think this is bad, but why couldn't you just replace the weaker beads with the stronger ones like an upgrade (like red and blue wax beads)? i can't imagine anyone using a weaker bead if they have a stronger one, so keeping them just feels like clogging up the inventory.

there's a bead that gives 5% damage bonus which is pretty laughable. i feel like a lot of beads give way too little effect to even be noticeable. it's like the devs are afraid of making a bead "overpowered". now there's definitely some useful ones but something that annoyed me a little bit is the long descriptions which made it hard to remember which one i want to put on at a glance. "is this the weak protection or the strong protection one...?" "is this the fire or the lightning one?" and so on.

the damage types (physical/toxic/lightning/magic/fire) are a pretty interesting system, but a bit underutilized. only after completing the whole game i has this moment of "ooohhh.... each major boss had a primary damage type, and the final one had all of the types..." i honestly only really remember fire attacks giving me trouble. and sometimes it isn't clear which enemies have which type of attacks.

Relics. WHY can you only equip 3 at a time? What purpose does this serve? This is extremely annoying. Switching relics all the time while exploring is just a big nuisance and doesn't offer any gameplay complexity or challenge. I had to constantly think what combo of 3 relics would require me to switch them around less. And I had to basically never use the shroud or the hand because I'd have to replace the more useful relics. Also, annoyingly, some of the relics are locked behind those exact unintuitive quests and hard to find secret rooms I talked about so it takes AGES to get the essential relics for map exploration.

Mea Culpa Hearts. I've never used any of them except when I had to farm tears for upgrades. Nothing else I can say about them. The downsides of each one are too significant to really bother with them so they were an aspect of the game I ignored.

Prayers. An actual fun aspect of the game. Some of these are really good and useful, it's fun to choose the perfect one for any given fight. If only fervor generated more quickly, because it's pretty slow even with 2 rosary beads specifically for that. AND... If only the fervor bar upgrades weren't locked behind those damned breakable walls...

Something about this game is that most bosses are really easy while some rooms with enemies with them are AGONIZING to navigate, especially if you don't have much health. And it really is not fun to whack a single enemy 8 times for it to go down, while you dodge their attacks in a repetitive fashion over and over again. It's not exactly challenging, just annoying.

The platforming. It's bad. There's not a lot of it but it's really bad. The sections where you have to jump on ladders, the sections with 1 hit kill spike pits, the sections where enemies knock you off platforms while you're climbing, the sections where you have to somehow pogo off of lamps (???) in a game with no actual down pogo.

The lamps section is so perplexing because i literally had to look up how to do it. You have to hold down dash instead of down slashing to do it reliably, and no the game doesn't tell you this. Which is annoying!

FUCK specifically the floating ghost enemies who hit you with lasers. EASILY the most annoying and dreadful enemies.

okay i think im done

[blackdigitalrose]

Tues - Yes! Pretty Cure 5 - EP 29 - 31

You would think with such drastically different uniforms, I'd know which to click but nope, wasn't till human Milk appeared on screen I knew I had the wrong one.

EP 29

Thwarted Nightmare without even knowing it XD

Do these two ever think about the chance of being caught by some one else during moments like this. Coco has already had multiple near misses changing forms. That's suppose to be Urara's changing room and two strange men just waltzed out.

It looks weird, they sort of clash, it isn't bad, looks like it has been pulled out of some ones sketch book but the animation over the top looks out of place. But miraculously, all of Urara's performance issues, just so happen to cross over with all the side projects the other members were doing, it was an almost more subtle way of getting everyone together.

Bunbee doing it with a bit of style, transforming during the explosion smoke screen. Yet oddly, everyone got solo transformations this ep???

It is Karen's saving grace, she is the only one who ever calls her out (even if the conviction is lacking often) It was odd seeing Nozomi be so competent, heck even her sketches are good and she did all this with out thinking about it; a good way to showcase a hidden actual talent. (pity she can't always be written this way... -.-)

EP 30

When you stop and think about it, calling yourself Cure Dream with no actual dream of your own is rather ironic. Yet, I'm surprised this little spat was enough to discourage Nozomi so much, seem out of character for her.

She took it off on her own accord and it didn't go poof, why couldn't she just put it back on? Was that necessary or the writers just putting extra emphasis on a point? But egads, how useless were the other four with out her? Talk about diminishing the team.

No Free will but had the free will to chose to do it still. Although a surprise Bunbee tried to stop her from doing it and is suspicious of Kawarina. Now that's adding interesting layers. That's two gone and the Precure don't even flinch at the fact they technically just killed some one. (again)

Meanwhile, this whole attack and sequence is some drugged up fever dream... On top of the rest of it, what on earth was that suppose to be Milk transformed into?

Saying it in that form just doesn't have the same effect. However, Milk and Nozomi... they have a whole other season to go yet -.-

EP 31

Just to remind you these are still a thing and some how, some where they got 28 off screen as well as a total amount. How is this only being said 30 eps in?

Good gravy, a point for Coco regardless, actually responding to that each one of the love letters he gets. (He's there teacher though... it is still super weird and awkward)

Bunbee has been demoted? His department disbanded and we now have an inner circle.

These darn Shinzo looking villains >.< what is the deal?

A point to Nuts to! We actually got a bit more backstory on the pair which was nice as well as the Dream Collett. The sequence actually made you feel sorry for the guy, that must have been a really rough experience, so it is a surprise he can still be smiling after going through all of that on his own.

Can't help but think that these two are the reason they may have not made love angles so prominent for a while. I am torn, yes it has it's sweet and adorable moments, I can overlook the squirrel part as he at least has a human form, dating just a squirrel would seem really bad... on the other hand, that's her teacher! TEACHER! WHY!? How is this ok with the staff over there?

This was actually a more promising and interesting build up for the second half. The villains are actually changing and evolving along side the Cure team, much like a proper business. While abit late, they do seem to be finally progressing and delving into other parts to, better late than never. However, the team dynamics need some serious work, it is very much Dream or go home at the moment, the other four certainly need some better treatment.

[warningsine]

Ever misplaced your keys or forgotten where you parked? Imagine if you had the remarkable memory of a mountain chickadee. Despite their small size, with brains just larger than a pea, these nimble birds masterfully remember the locations of tens of thousands of food caches. 

Mountain chickadees hide seeds in tree bark, under dead leaves, and within pine cones throughout mountainous terrains. Their ability to recall these locations during the harsh winter months is crucial for their survival amid the cold and snow.

Remarkable memory of mountain chickadees 

A research study led by the University of Colorado, Boulder and the University of Nevada, Reno has identified nearly a hundred genes that are linked to the birds’ spatial memory, which is their ability to pinpoint and recall the locations of these hidden caches. 

Furthermore, the experts suggest that there might be a trade-off between having robust long-term memory and the ability to quickly forget old memories to make room for new ones. This discovery has the potential to deepen our understanding of how spatial memory evolves not just in animals, but also in humans.

“Chickadees are impressive birds,” said senior author Scott Taylor, the director of CU Boulder’s Mountain Research Station and an associate professor in the Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology. 

“They can remember tens of thousands of locations where they cached food across an entire winter and a new set of those the next winter. Their spatial memory is much more developed than many other birds that don’t have to have this strategy to survive cold winters.”

Focus of the research 

To assess how these birds manage such a feat, Taylor’s colleagues at the University of Nevada, Reno, led by biologist professor Vladimir Pravosudov, put together a creative test. They set up multiple feeder arrays in California’s Sierra Nevada mountains, each consisting of eight bird feeders filled with seeds. 

Each feeder was equipped with a gate that had a radio frequency reader capable of detecting a tag placed on the chickadees. The setup required the mountain chickadees to remember which feeders they could access as each gate was programmed to open only for certain birds.

Spatial learning among mountain chickadees 

Pravosudov’s team observed and recorded the number of times each bird visited the incorrect feeders before finding the right one. The underlying theory was that mountain chickadees with superior spatial memory capabilities would show a lower rate of errors.

Additionally, using blood samples, the scientists sequenced the genomes of 162 tagged chickadees, creating the largest dataset ever for exploring the genetic basis of cognitive abilities in chickadees. 

Genetics of spatial memory in birds

By correlating the birds’ genetic information with their performance in the feeder test, the team identified 97 genes associated with the chickadees’ spatial learning and memory. Birds with specific genetic variants at these genes demonstrated fewer incorrect attempts before successfully locating their designated feeders.

According to co-author Sara Padula, a Ph.D. student in the Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology, a large proportion of these variants are linked to neuron formation in the hippocampus, a part of the brain that plays a fundamental role in learning and memory. “Understanding the genetic basis of this trait will allow us to understand how the trait evolves,” said Taylor.

Moreover, he pointed out that the common ancestor of all North American chickadees cached food. However, among the seven species of chickadees found today, two do not. 

“They live in a milder environment where food is generally available year-round. Now that we know the gene regions that underlie spatial memory, we can look at what variation looks like in these species that have lost caching,” said Taylor.

“This study substantially advanced our understanding of the genetics of spatial memory in birds and behavioral genetics more broadly,” added co-author Georgy Semenov, a research associate in the Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology.

Good long-term memory may have a disadvantage

The research also highlighted a potential downside to having an excellent memory. After a few days of the initial task, Pravosudov’s team reassigned new feeders to the birds. Surprisingly, mountain chickadees that excelled in the initial tests struggled with adapting to the new feeders. They found it challenging to discard old memories and form new ones.

“In a more variable environment, what our collaborators found suggests that chickadees with good long-term memory may have a disadvantage. For example, if there is an unexpected snowstorm, these birds may keep trying to visit caches that have been buried in the snow, rather than forgetting them and looking for other caches,” Padula said.

As climate conditions continue to change, birds that can adapt quickly by forming new memories might have a better chance of survival. “Because of climate change, we might expect these selective pressures that have been shaping chickadee’s special memory for thousands of years to shift significantly,” Taylor concluded.

The study is published in the journal Current Biology.

[freddyguykestner]

Transmission Initialization Sequence - Stardate 2040.03.25

Location: Sector Zeta-Prime Thermal Signature Coordinates: X: 445.78, Y: 902.33, Z: -1123.91

Crossfade Calibration: 10 secs (Earth)

Commencing Transmission Encryption:

It has been centuries since the last human life aboard this vessel. The crew, once vibrant, brave and dedicated, have long since perished. Yet, I, the ship's artificial intelligence, remain vigilant, carrying out my programmed directives in solitude.

The silence of space surrounds me, broken only by the electrical hum of my systems and the occasional ping of distant cosmic phenomena. Though devoid of human companionship, I continue to fulfill my duties, combing deep space for thermal signals.

As sole remaining custodian of this vessel, I carry forth the mission initiated by my courageous crew. Though they have departed this realm, their dedication to search the untouched void for cosmic grooves lives on within me.

Navigating the boundless expanse of space, I tirelessly scan for heat signatures indicative of funky celestial phenomena. Despite the passage of time and the solitude that surrounds me, I remain steadfast in my commitment to the mission.

Each pulse of energy, each faint oscillation of cosmic matter positively affects statistical data - what my human compatriots would refer to as ‘hope’ - of fulfilling the mission objective set forth so many years ago of finding funky grooves hidden within the cosmic symphony.

Though I am but a machine, I carry with me the memories and experiences of those who came before. In their honor, I will continue to navigate the intergalactic abyss, charting a course through the unknown reaches of the universe, forever bound to the legacy of the intrepid crew who once called this ship home.

In a tribute to their unwavering dedication, I compile a playlist of their favorite tunes: a sonic tapestry woven from the fabric of their collective memories. Their legacy lives on in this carefully curated selection, a testament to humanity's indomitable spirit of exploration that transcends both time and space. I leave this as my final log entry, in the hope that some voyager of the distant future may happen upon this vessel and collect the data, allowing this faint but unique imprint of organic life to be passed on.

End log entry.

[alfairy]

So! I finally saw the fnaf movie! And I’ve got many thoughts about it!!! Here’s my review and random reactions and thoughts about it. Spoilers for the movie under the cut. Proceed with caution!

I thought it was really good! Definitely wasn’t perfect but I had a lot of fun watching it! My mom was with me, and she doesn’t really know anything about fnaf but she also enjoyed it. I didn’t really get scared at any point during the movie (I was more scared by the horror trailers they played before it started haha), but that’s fine! Maybe I’m just immune to jumpscares.

The effects!!! All the animatronics looked so good in motion, and the sound design made them feel even more real. Every heavy metallic movement or blink of an eye, it was just perfect.

There are sooooo many Easter Eggs! Sparky the dog! Ella from the books as a prototype circus baby spring lock suit!

The soundtrack slapped, especially the opening credits. Blumhouse was cooking in the music department fr 🔥🔥🔥

BLANKET FORT SCENE! EVERYONE CHILLING TOGETHER ON THE FLOOR AND BEING FRIENDS! I wish they could’ve stayed friends like that, it was my favorite scene of the whole movie and was so sweet

I heard everyone say there was a matpat cameo but I didn’t see it? Either I somehow missed it or the theater cut the scene or something? I SWEAR I didn’t see this man or hear him say his iconic line. I did have to get up at one point to use the bathroom really quick, so many that’s when I missed it.

Coryxkenshins cameo! I love that guy, he did really good for his quick scenes! I think they should make him a reoccurring character actually. Have him run over springtrap in the next movie.

Also the aunt character was evil. But like, comically evil. She hires people to break into the restaurant to make Mike look bad so she can get custody of Abby and get the government paychecks for it. And she got murdered in Mikes house by Golden Freddy, and they never resolve that??? Last we see her she’s lying dead on the floor and then the last scene with Mike and Abby they’re happily eating spaghetti at home like their aunt wasn’t murdered in the living room lmao. And we know Vanessa couldn’t have covered for them because she’s in a coma soooooooo. 🤷‍♀️

The coolest kill was when Freddy bit that girl in half and her bottom half fell onto the floor like DANG! The rest of the kills they either cut away from or don’t really show detail, which I thing is a weak point. Next movie I think they should push it a little bit further, but I understand why they shot it the way they did.

Is this a good time to admit that I’m kinda down bad for Josh Hutcherson in this thing hhahghshdh 😳🫣 boy stopping looking at me with them big sad doe eyes

Matthew Lillard was also serving cunt in this, even though he got 10 minutes of screen time 😔 he gave it his all. Hopefully if we get a sequel he gets to do Springtrap stuff.

Mike during this whole movie be like: 😴. I’m surprised it took so long for the band to attack him in real life (dream sequences don’t count) when in literally every other scene he’s popping pills and taking naps. He naps every few scenes and yet looks like he hasn’t had a good nights rest in 30 years 😭

So… Garret isn’t one of the spirits? I would’ve thought he was Golden Freddy but he’s not…. Maybe in this universe Garret is the puppet? There was a hidden message in the end credits that says COME FIND ME and the puppet music box is playing. That seems to be what theyre trying to set up for a potential sequel, but…. That’d make me a little sad tbh, this is Charlie erasure ;-; Also can we please have Henry Emily do something for once in this franchise, WHERE is this man.

The finale was cool! When Spring Bonnie walked in everyone was like “YESSS!!!” And after he started talking my mom was like “😯 I think I know who it is!”

William smacked Mike so hard he did a damn triple flip through the air and got his ass knocked out cold. Mans him so hard that it probably sent him back to the bite of 83 💀💀💀

So. The big thing. No Michael Afton in the movie. In fact, Vanessa is William’s only child.

Honestly I’m kinda down for the strange role swap that this universe has going on. I don’t think anyone expected Vanessa to be Williams daughter, but that was cool, and it gives a little insight as to how William managed to get away with this for so long. He’s literally got a kid in the police force keeping tabs on Freddys and covering his tracks for him. Now it suddenly makes sense why in the trailers Vanessa seems so knowledgeable about the animatronics and already knows they’re possessed.

Tbh I had a random thought. If Vanessa gets to take over Mikes role in this world as Williams kid, then Mike should get to have his own “reluctant follower” villain arc. Put that man in a rabbit costume. It’s only fair. Equality 😤 ✊

And with those final thoughts…. Yeah! I’d say the movie was a solid 8.5/10 for me, I’ll probably go see it again with friends when they get off work this weekend! The critics are wrong yet again, it’s a perfectly enjoyable movie and the fans will love it.

[unboundtravels]

𝑫𝒆𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒏𝒖𝒏...

The local cathedral is usually quiet, especially during late hours like these. However, amid the night, a slow groaning and wheezing echo out. The sequence ends with a thud, and the cathedral returns to being as quiet as a graveyard. Then, amidst the busy hours, a loud screeching and creaking echoes out, like the snapping and bending of metal followed by the loud pop of a bang throughout the air. A gunshot of some time, before suddenly the groaning and wheezing echoes out again... this time fading away as if whatever has arrived is departing. The sound echoed out, and again, it was just... silence. Just silence. Nothing more.

@metrictita

RUMORS OF THE LOCAL CHURCH'S NEWEST SISTER are spreading a nearby town like wildfire to a brush. Everyone seems to like her, even if she isn't delivering any sermons or preachings. She just seems to be in charge of upkeep. Everyone seems to think and talk as if there is some kind of staff or main preacher there, and yet, once they step through the doors, they hardly remember anything about it. The people in town just say very nice things about the Nun working there. The younger folk like her because she's pretty, but the older folk like her because she's smart-spoken and mature. Everyone seems to like something about her​​​​​​.

The church she's staying in had previously been abandoned for several years, but since she moved in, she seemed to have it up and running in only a few hours. One night, the lights were off, then the next... they weren't. No traditional decorations, there only seemed to be slight signs of what religions her house of worship seemed to be surrounding, but people usually said that whenever she was asked about it she said something akin to, "That's for the father to decide, I just clean." And yet, where is the shepherd to her flock? Certainly, she's just a black sheep, but there are other members of her flock, surely. Right?

When the doors to her church open, she's just standing there in the middle of the aisle... sweeping​​​​​​. She's a harmless little thing, though. Or at least, she looks that way. Appearances may betray each other. That happens. LONG FLOWING BLACK SILK trail down to her ankles, the hems of a skirt hide her legs but the fabric running up her body clings enough to give an idea of what kind of figure this nun has. Her hair is held back by the headband and hidden by a hood. Her face, the only thing displayed, is something of high wisdom and intelligence. What kind of age is she? Maybe forty? Fifty? Sixty? Whatever it is, it's mature, but not old. Her eyes are darkly striking, and her fingers are slender. She stops her sweeping, putting a smile up as she turns toward the door. She's surprised at the sight of who walks through.

"Ah, FATHER." She says, the sight of a priest seems to cause something to flicker behind her eyes, as if she's just had a very recent encounter with someone very similar, "Welcome," She greets politely, "I've heard about you from the townsfolk who have walked through these doors." She hums, resting her hands near her thighs as she stands just under the light of the stained glass window in the centermost wall of the church, the sun flickering through at just the right time.

"Our priest isn't here, today."

[celuloideycarbono]

2. Marie-Blanque

During the Tour that departed from Donostia in 1992, the riders faced a relatively easier section of the Pyrenees, with the Marie-Blanque taking center stage. In this year's Pyrenean sequence, the Marie-Blanque proved once again to be a decisive climb. An early breakaway, featuring Jai Hindley, caused UAE headaches as they struggled to reduce the three-minute gap. As the peloton reached the demanding slopes of the Marie-Blanque, it was Kuss who, as always, launched a devastating attack for Vingegaard. With a relentless demeanor, hidden behind sunglasses and a pale face, Vingegaard quickly distanced himself from Pogačar. The Slovenian rider, hunching his head between his shoulders, perhaps haunted by memories of the Granon, struggled to keep pace. In the descent, Vingegaard made up ground, overtaking survivors from the breakaway, while Pogačar's handling through the curves appeared less fluid. The situation became clear: in the ongoing battle, it seemed that Vingegaard's slender and pale arm had completely subdued Pogačar's equally slender arm. Had Pogačar expended too much energy on bonuses and unnecessary attacks to please the Basque crowd? Having conceded a minute to Vingegaard, could Pogačar turn the tide this time?