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desertfangs · 8 months ago

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Strange Happenings

I was listening to a podcast about Cattle Mutilations and then this happened. It's Armand/Daniel, circa 1975, a little more than 1000 words. I will put this in my short fic document on AO3 later.

Daniel’s blood went cold when he read the newspaper headline. He scoured the article and then checked that yes, this was the Denver paper, not some tabloid. He enjoyed a good tabloid story—and since learning that vampires were real, he suspected that some of the stranger things reported on in those rags were not entirely fiction—but this was a mainstream paper: cattle mutilations.

He looked at the grisly photo of a cow with its guts hanging out, parts of it surgically removed. Bile rose in his throat and he swallowed a swig of beer to wash it back down. Ash fell from his cigarette onto the paper and he wiped it away, ashing the cigarette in the ashtray on the small round bar table.

He poured over the article several times. The article said some people were suggesting it was prank, while others had more out-there theories. The article did not go into the specifics of what these strange theories entailed but something unnatural was definitely implied. Daniel wondered what that meant. According to the article, incidents like these had been happening for months in different areas around the state.

He was so absorbed in his reading that the movement of the chair across the table startled him and he jumped.

Armand laughed.

Bastard.

The vampire had sat, looking pleased with himself at how easily he’d managed to sneak up on Daniel. As if he didn’t do it all the damn time. Daniel glanced out the window. He hadn’t even realized it had gotten dark.

“What are you reading?” Armand asked, grabbing the newspaper and sliding it across the table before Daniel could answer.

Armand scanned the page and frowned. Daniel studied him, waiting for his reaction. It didn’t take long. Armand didn’t have to read like a mortal. He could just look at something and absorb the information. He had once insisted to Daniel that he was reading, just faster than a mortal brain could ever manage.

“Well? Is that your kind’s doing?”

Armand laughed again. “You think vampires would bother with such elaborate and silly games?”

You seem to enjoy games, Daniel thought before catching himself, remembering how easily the vampire could hear his thoughts.

“I have no interest in the blood of cows,” Armand said. “Nor do I desire to hack pieces off large animals.”

“No? Seems like it would be a fun weeknight activity for someone like you,” Daniel said, tone droll. He stubbed the butt of his cigarette against the ashtray and pulled the paper back in front of him. “Do you know what’s doing it?”

“Bored children, probably,” Armand said.

Daniel laughed. He couldn’t help it. What an absurd response! “You think kids are going out and hacking up farm animals?”

Armand shrugged. “The article suggests as much.”

It did say local teens were suspected in at least one of the incidents, a copycat prank. He tapped his fingers against the table. “So you don’t know of a creature that might do something like this?”

Armand’s expression shifted, darkening almost imperceptibly. He titled his head and examined Daniel for a long moment while Daniel tried not to squirm uncomfortably under the scrutiny. Then he said, “I’ve never heard of such a creature and I cannot fathom what form they would take.”

Daniel sighed. He folded the newspaper up. “What about Bigfoot?”

Armand blinked. “Are you asking if I believe a giant ape man is carving up cattle?”

Daniel shrugged.

“I’ve told you before, Daniel, I have no knowledge of such things existing. I am immortal, I am not all knowing.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Daniel waved his hand and lit another cigarette. “Do you kill animals often?”

Armand actually looked surprised for a moment, which made Daniel smile. It took a lot to throw Armand off kilter and Daniel took great pleasure in doing so.

Armand reached across the table and snatched the cigarette from Daniel’s mouth at a speed that made it look as if the cigarette had flown into his hand of its own accord. Daniel’s heart raced but he tried not to show the jolt of primal fear that ran through him.

Armand held the cigarette between his fingers the way Daniel did, mimicking his motions. “Humans are animals,” he said idly.

“You know that’s not what I mean. Louis said he survived on rats—"

Armand’s head shot up and there was danger in his amber eyes. Daniel swallowed uneasily and reached for his glass. “Do not think speaking to one of us at length makes you an expert. And even he told you that was not normal behavior.”

Daniel took a swig of his beer. “I’m not an expert, that’s why I’m asking you.”

Armand put the cigarette to his lips. He inhaled, and then pulled it from his mouth, staring at it like it had offended him somehow. “We survive on animal blood when there is no other alternative. It’s your blood—the blood of mortals—that truly sustains us. Nothing else is sufficient.”

Armand stared meaningfully at Daniel’s neck as he spoke and Daniel’s hand went automatically to the spot where Louis had bitten him. It had been two years but he could still feel the ghost of the wound and he often wondered how it would feel to have Armand’s fangs in his neck.

Armand’s hand jutted forward, offering Daniel back his cigarette. He took it, fingers brushing Armand’s cool fingers. He wanted to grab his hand suddenly and hold it in his, to see if it would warm up in his grasp. But Armand had already stood, pushing his chair back.

“Where are you going?” Daniel demanded, without really thinking. He should be relieved the vampire was going. He was ice cold and probably hadn’t fed, and here Daniel was, stupidly asking him all about blood. That was a recipe for getting himself on the menu.

And yet he didn’t hate the idea. Vampires could drink without killing.

Armand leaned over the table and brushed a stray hair out of Daniel’s face. “Indeed we can, but it’s not satisfying. When I drink, I ride the heart until it stops and all the life has bled out.”

Daniel’s pulse raced, ice traveling down his spine. And then Armand was gone, almost as if he’d vanished into smoke. Daniel opened the newspaper again and tried to find something to distract himself, waving to the bartender for another beer. He sure as hell wasn’t going to go back to his hotel room alone until the sun was high in the sky and it was safe to do so.

#armand/daniel #short fic #armand x daniel #armand #daniel molloy #the chase years #devils minion #the devil's minion #devil's minion #vc fic #vc fanfic #short fic sunday #is that a thing #it should be a thing #daniel molloy vs cryptids #vc #vampire chronicles #tvc #armandaniel

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batsplat · 4 days ago

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#and i don't really ever like to touch this unless i absolutely have to but... early 2012 cannot have been an easy time in his life#cf his profile pic at the time

Just technical curiosity since i haven't seen the original, what was valentino's profile pic at the time?

Also, I don't know if you have talked about it or if you would like to talk about it, but I wanted to hear from you about Sic and his riding style. And if you have any opinion on grief and how it affected Vale. Of course its sensitive and if you have any qualms talking about it please feel no pressure!

and... idk man, idt I have anything particularly insightful to say about him either as a bloke or his riding style. obviously some tragic irony to the general opinion that he'd calmed down a fair bit by the time of his death... but I don't know what I could meaningfully say about him that isn't common knowledge anyway. when people say he was the highlight of the 2011 season - both in generating talking points but also just in terms of racing - they are right... just another element that makes the 2011 season not particularly enjoyable to me, for all my love for its champion

about the impact his death had on valentino, sure, I have my thoughts. I think valentino has tried to strike a delicate balance between honouring his dead friend and running away from that grief as best he can. I think riders have to become very good at compartmentalising those feelings. racing in welkom in 2003 a few days after daijiro kaito had passed, a bloke valentino had known for years and had gotten drunk at honda events - the work done after that to establish the safety commission. tragedy outside of racing, like the suicide of valentino's stepfather the day before the race where valentino quasi-sealed his last title at phillip island 2009 - a death he was asked to comment on after saturday practise. misano 2010 and standing in silence on the podium with jorge and dani in front of the jubilant crowd celebrating his podium, having just been told of the death of moto2 rider shoya tomizawa in parc fermé. valentino obviously wanted a good race at valencia 2011, but instead he was taken out in a multi-rider pile-up in the first corner - one that must have been particularly scary at the time. not long after he was involved in the accident that killed his friend. I think it won't have been easy during a period when he was struggling anyway, and I think it's telling how much the persistent rumours about his retirement after sic's death clearly bothered him. I think he tried to remove himself from the loss as much as possible, and I wouldn't be surprised if the stories of him keeping his distance from sic's father in the aftermath were true. I think that the experience of losing sic did hit him hard, did probably change some things permanently for him, will have continued to affect him going forwards. I think it will have made his relationship to fear, which he believes to be a non-negotiable element of his profession, no less complicated. I think it's very like valentino to integrate it into the story of forming the academy: a positive way of paying tribute to sic, a way of sharing his emotions in only the most restrained and narratively neat way - he missed sic, he'd been searching for meaning, this had given him something, sic was the first student of the academy - and I think it probably did help him process for himself what he had gone through

but above all I think that it is none of my business how he dealt with it. obviously, when I read this stuff, it's not like I can shut off my brain - and I do have my suspicions about the effects it had going forward. which is all well and good, but it's also where I personally draw the line. I don't want to do my usual process of playing cluedo and reading the tea leaves over two throwaway interview lines over the response to the death of a real human being. similarly to how I don't want to speculate about parental relations beyond what riders themselves have willingly told us, at the end of the day I am going to limit myself to what valentino has actually said on the matter. it was a painful loss, he wants to honour sic, it did not make him want to retire. valentino clearly doesn't want to pour out his soul to the public on this matter, and honestly I think that's probably the correct choice. he is entitled to dealing with his grief in his own way, he is entitled to the privacy of his emotions. this is one subject where I have no wish to pry

#i feel like some kind of content warning would be good with this but... no clue #i don't usually tag rider names but i'll do it here in case anyone has the tag muted #marco simoncelli #//#brr brr #batsplat responds #btw to anon. just in case the tone of the post comes off wrong - idm being sent the ask at all + i did kinda open myself up to it #i also don't think anyone is committing any massive moral faux pas's (?) for speculating how it affected valentino #even though personally i've seen some things that have made me uncomfortable. does this really NEED to be integrated into your rpf thesis #idk i do think there are some boundaries. but also maybe i'm too sensitive... hate how valentino's parental relationships get discussed too

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greentrickster · 2 years ago

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Hello, this is my new OC, his name is Fred-Rick and he is a sentient suit of armor!

(Important: The image isn’t mine, but I Cannot draw armor, so I looked around until I found a suit that looked like him and wasn’t someone’s own custom armor or anything like that. This set is actually for sale on AliExpress, and it’s meant to be more a ‘this is the rough shape of him’ than a ‘this is exactly how he looks original design do not steal.’ This is here solely to have an image to go along with my words and make him easier to picture.)

ANYWAY, the important bits! First off, I he drifted into my mind last night while considering my love of fully-armored characters while drifting off to sleep, and the idea sparking (as I’m sure it has for other people) “...but what if the armor was the character?” So now Fred-Rick lives in my brain and I’m so happy to have him here.

The product of a wizardly duel of the end-game variety happening in a palace, several suits of armor got hit with multiple reality-bending spells at once, and this collision created several new forms of life, including Fred who’s also the only one that’s still basically just armor. His reaction to going from inanimate object to fully-realized living being? “Jiminy-jaminy - sapient free will!” and then doing his best to try and help get rid of the wizard who was causing problems.

...come to think of it, ‘doing his best’ is a pretty good descriptor for Fred. He has a lot of baseline knowledge, but it’s patchy, and there’s also no experience to back any of it up. For an example: he chose the name ‘Fred-Rick’ himself because he liked both names and couldn’t choose between them, but was also unaware that ‘Fredrick’ was a name in and of itself until several months later, when someone saw him write his own name for the first time. This poor boy would get talked into buying so many bridges in the modern world.

Also yes, he has a sword and knows how to use it. He’s only an average-level swordsman, though - nothing special to write home about, just adequate.

His ‘body’ is comprised solely of the metal and leather of the armor - while the picture may show cloth, Fred actually has chain-mail in those places instead, and they may be filled out, but there’s nothing in them. The only way to hurt him is by damaging the metal or leather. He can be killed via crushing or, oddly, having his helmet separated from his torso. He’s not fully aware of either of these things, but learns quickly enough that, to him, having part of himself crushed or dented in any way hurts way more than piercing damage to his other metal parts, and that while having, say, one of his gauntlets or a grieve removed is uncomfortable, anything trying to remove his helmet triggers some exciting new survival instincts he did not have as an object, so it’s probably one of those Do Not Let That Happen things. His leather straps look like they should be his most vulnerable areas, but they aren’t, it just equivalent-pain-level-of-stings when they get cut or burnt. Getting his chain-mail torn or damaged is unpleasant in a ‘bad muscle cramp’ sort of way.

Ironically, he’s completely heat and fire resistant, so being melted or burnt isn’t a risk, but he gets cold very easily. A Fred in a beautiful, snow-filled field on a clear, cold winter’s day is such a sad Fred. It also doesn’t help that his feet are made of smooth metal and thus more slippy than grippy - he eventually starts wearing leather boots over them to counteract this issue after experimenting with a few other fixes first. He also has to be careful around water, as, being made of metal, he is at risk of rust and corrosion, so drying off carefully, avoiding rain, and giving himself a proper polish every few days is an important part of his health routine.

His chest-plate/torso, while hollow, also contains a kind of n-space that serves two functions. First, he can store things in there (though he’s generally more comfortable just carrying things in a pack like everyone else). Second, he can use it to ‘eat’ unworked metal and leather to heal any injuries he has or improve his metal, though both have to be at least partially processed for him to do so. Ex: he could toss an old boot and an iron bar into his chestplate to fix up some battle injuries, but a lump of iron ore and the fresh skin of a dead squirrel wouldn’t work. Also, if he loses a piece of armor, he can’t just consume enough metal and leather to regrow it - he has to find a new piece of the same type of armor and consume that first, at which point he can grow a replacement that either looks like the original one, or the part he consumed. The process takes about a day to complete.

Consuming food doesn’t give him any apparent health benefits or detriments, but his shows every impression of getting joy from it. Again, though, it has to have some level of process in its creation - plain cooked meat and veg or raw fruit hold no appeal to him. A hearty soup or quiche is much better. He adores baked goods, the fancier the better. Give him a nice tart or roll of bread and he’ll open his visor to drop that right on in there, then sit around radiating contentment for an hour. ‘Eating’ like this is very much a leisure activity for him, though - it’s something he does during solid downtime, not on the road or while working.

Consuming pre-made pieces of armor when he’s uninjured also allows him to alter his appearance in aesthetic ways. Though, honestly? If he’s going to dress up, he’ll go for a cape and some feather plumes for his helmet every single time. Fred-Rick loves decorative capes, they make him feel so fancy, same with the feathers. They’re the only things he really uses his chestplate’s n-space storage for that aren’t things he’s going to consume either now or later. He was originally a decorative suit of armor and, while he’s alive now, he’s still a fancy boy at heart. The day he learns he can use metal jewelry the same way he can use pre-made pieces of armor is going to be a very exciting day indeed for him, though it hasn’t come just yet.

He is a sweet, goofy guy who is excited to be going out into the world, having adventures, and making friends. He’s the happy ‘wide-eyed’ innocent of any group he’s in, and, while there is valiance in his breastplate, he’s more likely to be found doing odd jobs than heroic quests if left to his own devices. Being useful and watching organic beings have non-violent interactions are his current favorite activities. Fred-Rick’s inexperience with life and being alive leaves him with a lot of blind spots that can allow people to take advantage of him, but also lets him get really excited over even small joys, like seeing the sun glinting off a river on a nice day, simply because it’s his first time experiencing them. He has basic social niceties and behaviour down, it’s the nuances that tend to catch him out.

Also, I know all this isn’t my usual bailiwick, but Fred-Rick is a good, sweet boy and I love him, and this felt like the best place to put all this down and maybe introduce him to some other people who will love him. He’s the sort of character that makes me wish I was better at drawing, but unfortunately I’m not willing to take time away from my other activities (like writing) to get better at it, so I can’t really complain. Maybe someday when I have more energy for it, I’ll do a proper, official character design for him. :)

#Fred-Rick the sentient suit of armor #my oc #my oc my beloved

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madhatteress · 2 years ago

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i’ve long resonated with the “too much” idea but at a remove. that everyone should be as much as they were, and no one should lessen that, fuck anyone who tried. but i didn’t feel that i was too much. i felt it resonate in a far-away way, an echo of something from a time when the world was full of monsters and everything mattered. if i was considered too much in recent years, it was too gregarious, too sociable, too open. nothing that would actually upset the status quo, and indeed, an overall asset in social settings.

last month i stopped one of the antidepressants i've been on for most of my adult life, and what happened next happened slowly and all at once. i felt it creeping up the walls of my mind like ivy - persistent, unwavering in its course around obstacles, blocking out reason like windows. and i started noticing how much i was. how loud i became. how angry i was, and fuck, it feels so good to be angry again.

this week i caught the subtle widening of eyes when i was telling a story about how awful something is, and how much difficulty it causes me, and how much i hate it - and i knew immediately what that expression was. i could tell by how quickly i clocked it that this was not the first time someone had closed their mouth and let their eyebrows raise slightly, rocking back on their heels.

this used to happen to me, i remember seeing it, and i remembered with futility what i was supposed to do - rein it in, cool it down. but now that i've tasted anger, it tastes so good, and i don't want to stop. i watched as the runaway train barreled past - "too much" in full force, and the knowledge that the person in front of me thought that it was too much made it worse. when had i lost the ability to stop that train? when had i learned how to stop it in the first place?

it wouldn't be fair to blame this entirely on altered brain chemistry. i remember now, the constant effort it took to not solicit that reaction. the constant monitoring of my own expressions, my own energy to ensure that no one could possibly think that i was too much to handle. the affected coolness, aloofness that backfired so spectacularly because once you start, you cannot stop, you cannot unwind the death grip you have on yourself. i remember it going so very poorly that i reasoned that there was nothing to do but at least start being more expressive.

white knuckled with gritted teeth, repeating over and over that it's ok, it doesn't actually matter what anyone thinks. you can be more than you were, it won't overwhelm the people around you. and i told myself so many times that it started to be true, if it did overwhelm the people around me then maybe they didn't need to be there. this is growth, i was hesitantly proud of myself. first i let excitement creep back in - that was always the easiest, people like seeing others happy and excited, it elicits a positive reaction. next some carefully timed frustration - it works best when you find a common target with the person across from you, it helps build camaraderie.

something feels shattered now - restraint maybe, the ability to calculate my reactions to facilitate the best ones from others. my runaway train is on a one-way trip to Toomuchtopia, and when its passed by and i see you standing on the other side of the tracks open mouthed, i'm not even upset with you. i'm upset with myself for letting you this close when you so clearly needed someone with less.

#mine own #mine

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rainbowgod666 · 10 months ago

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The perfect DC/Marvel comic is like this

Its a batman book, the joker is killed off in the first panel and that has no meaning or repercussions over the timeline

The watchmen are a thing and Dr. Manhattan figured out a way to get rid of the whole "every moment is the present" thing. This makes it easier for the writer to write its dialogues. He is still earth-shatteringly autistic and everyone loves him for this

Also he and deadpool accidentally bond over "seeing the 4th wall". Deadpool is also buddies with moon knight. Guess what my favourite charachter is?

Good ol IRL me is there and its canon that the one time when i tried to help constantine every demon/spirit/whatever that has a stake on him was SCREAMING to him "get tf away from him not even death's gonna save you". Which i mean, rude

Welcome to the multiverse. Batman has small dick energy and superman is such a pacifist some people have trouble seeing him as anything other than "alien übermensch thats just a really nice guy and thats eat". He may be white bread but here in italy we say "buono come il pane" or "good as bread" so yeah hes a Certified Good Boy

I cannot stress enough how much unimportant is the death of the joker. He basically might as well have never existed.

Wonder Woman comes to the realization (after i confronted her about it because FFS WHY DO I HAVE TO BE THE MULTIVERSE'S BABYSITTER) that MAYBE reducing her entire power assortment to "r/TwoXChromosomes" is a bad thing both for boys AND girls alike. I know the song goes "forget your balls and grow a pair of tits" but i would instead put programs so that boys feel safe about their masculinity and girls wont have to worry about Bad People In Dimly Lit Alleys.

SCP and MONUMENTMYTHOS are referenced really tangentially. Only the wikis (official or not) aknowlegde this fully

There are at least three scenes where tony stark reads about elongated muskrat on the news. In all of them hes disappointed

He also references him appearing on big bang theory, which in THIS universe is ran by the charachters of the series as a fun class B science program that has way more audience than it should have. Sheldon met Dr. Manhattan, who described our multi-knocking boy as just like him but "less knowledgeable and more arrogant" (no fr shelly is one /gamemode 1 from becoming dr. pasadiña or whatever)

Considering this is "DC and Marvel, but Alex did his bullshit", expect dumb shit

I am introduced with a MadCom reference that is also a Courage the cowardly dog reference. KeK

The Owlman is revealed to have had a massive brain tumor that straight up removed his ability to think rationally while making him speak like his cigars are made of dictionaries

So many events from so many storylines happen all at once lol

Spidey disapproves of O'Hara. Like everyone else.

Multiple references are everywhere

There is SERIOUS PROOF that thanos accidentally something important when he was testing the infinity gauntlet, whoops!

Gamora tries to kill me after i try to roast her for how she is. She is shocked to find out that me getting Kakyoin'd did nothing but "ow"

@moringmark is referenced in a 4 panel scene in the toh universe

A cover story reveals that, on the moon, a portal opens. The portal is traversed by a shiny deoxys and many little among us crewmates. The impostors are all black (literally) (if you see racism in this, fuck you not everyone is an american cop) (on that note, watch southland) and act as guards for the group. Deoxys is in its base form

The valve universe is a thing so welcome BLU, RED, aperture and black mesa!

#dc comics #marvel #welcome to the multiverse #Earth-ℵ₀

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destinyimage · 2 years ago

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Boy Blinded by Abuse Sees Again in the Glory Atmosphere

Even during times of transition and change, we can rest assured that God is transforming us into new levels of glory (see 2 Corinthians 3:18).

Following Jesus can never be reduced to following a formula. I recently had a vision of Jesus standing in a harvest field. He turned around, looked at me with an outstretched hand, and said with a smile, “Come, follow Me.” I cried for two hours after that vision because I felt His glory fill my room, and I knew He was inviting me into another great adventure with Him. I am still walking out this invitation. I have a feeling I’ve only seen the surface of all that He has in store for us. Following Jesus requires movement and change.

“It doesn’t matter if you just got your stakes down like you wanted them. The move of God doesn’t happen according to your timing. God cannot always accommodate to your schedule. He moves sovereignly, as He wills, and if you don’t move with him, you will be left behind. He has but one desire for us, and that one desire is that we be changed from glory to glory. He has never moved a person to a lesser glory than they’ve already experienced. Change, therefore, is our friend. The changes God is sending into our lives are intended to work in us ‘a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.’ In fact, change becomes the measure of the glory.” —Ruth Ward Heflin

For us and many others, a mindset change is harder than the change itself. Once our minds are renewed and synced with Christ, change comes supernaturally. I imagine the children of Israel were accustomed to change as they followed the cloud by day and the fire by night. Miracles of provision, protection, and health were found in the glory.

Miracles in the Glory

At our Saturday Night Awakening service, one of the most notable miracles was when a teenage boy received sight in his blind eye. We had seen blind eyes healed before, but this story impacts me greatly because God restored more than his eye alone. As a baby, this boy was beaten so severely that he suffered brain damage and lost sight in one of his eyes. His adopted parents saw him through seven surgeries to help correct his eye. This boy was not able to run a few steps without falling down due to brain damage. We always take time to pray for those needing a miracle, and we did so this one particular night. After some were healed, we were transitioning the service to the message, and I heard a gentle nudge of the Holy Spirit say, “I’m not quite done yet.” We had already prayed for miracles, and I had taken my seat. As I prepared to walk out and change my one-year-old’s diaper, I felt the gentle nudge in my spirit again. I handed my son to my dear friend Elizabeth and walked back up on stage.

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I grabbed a mic and quickly made mention of a healing anointing in the room. Tommy and I decided to wait a little longer in the presence of the Lord. After we called out a few more words of knowledge, a young boy began to run around the front row, then up the steps, onto the stage, and then jump off! He did this two or three times! Tommy was nervous he might trip over the steps because he knew this boy couldn’t walk without assistance. But not only was he able to run and jump without falling, but he also began to cry out, “I can see! I can see!” The boy’s father came up to report that his son’s blind eye had opened; he told the story that led to his son’s condition. No one laid hands on this young man, only the hand of God. Later, offstage, the young man told me he didn’t feel afraid of the bad things that happened to him. I knew God was removing trauma from him. The evening erupted in praise and joy as we gave Jesus the glory. A traditional message didn’t happen that night, but no one complained as Jesus was the message.

Digging wells of revival usually requires us to lay aside our agendas and orders of service in order to surround ourselves with the presence of God.

“If we want the same fruit and breakthrough seen in the early Church, we’ll have to take our hands off the reins of what God is directing.” —Bill Johnson

We expect miracles, repentance, deliverance from demons, and restoration in our meetings because people receive what they need in the glory. Often all these happen at once. Revival can look chaotic and messy by most church standards but so did the Pentecostal revival in Acts 2. Some accused them of being drunk!

Tommy and I are always open to learning from others on how to host revival. One thing we have learned is, if we don’t seek the presence of God first, nothing will be added to us (see Matthew 6:33). We don’t worship miracles or revival; we worship Jesus. His presence must be at the center of our ministry; if it’s not, we are out. We know life without Jesus, and we have no intention of going back.

As we continue to honor the Lord’s presence and move with the glory in our services, we see an increase of miracles happening. We’ve recently seen witches attend our meetings more than once in different states. We have had more than one testimony about the power of God encountering them. We recently had a report of a witch repenting because she was physically healed at our meeting. No one prayed for her or laid hands on her. She later asked to be discipled to learn more about Jesus and the Holy Spirit!

The glory crosses denominational lines. We have had Baptists, Methodists, Church of Christ, and people from other denominations transformed by revival. One Church of Christ man came to one of our revival tour meetings. He disapproved of his daughter attending our meeting and decided to show up. Later that night the power of God came over him as he, his daughter, and her friend fell back under the power of God. They were so deeply touched by this encounter that they went to their church to share what happened to them at our revival meeting and God’s presence powerfully encountered the people who heard their testimony!

Digging Wells of Healing

“The greatest revivals in the New Testament after Pentecost were the direct result of one or more divine healings of the body. It was used more than anything else in the Word of God to draw the people to Christ. Nearly all the great revivals were brought about by divine healing and sometimes only one was healed.” —Maria Woodworth-Etter

The miracle wells of revival are springing forth!

John G. Lake

He lived in the early 1900s and had a revelation of the believer’s authority and dominion over sickness. He saw many healed and even raised the dead. In the middle of the deadly bubonic plague, John G. Lake had the disease dissolve in his hand under the eye of a microscope, and he credited the miracle to the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus, according to Romans 8. The mayor of Spokane, Washington, thanked him for the contributions he made toward city transformation due to the establishment of Healing Rooms, some of which are in operation today. At one point in Lake’s day, Spokane was rated the healthiest city in America! He also established 625 churches (125 white churches and 500 black churches).

Maria Woodworth-Etter

In the 1800s Maria Woodworth-Etter, or “Mother Etter,” as she became known, pioneered a way for women to preach and minister during a time when women didn’t have the right to vote. When religion tried to shut her up, she chose to obey God no matter the cost.

After she integrated healing into her ministry, she began to see blind eyes open, cancer removed, tumors disappear, the lame walk, the deaf hear. And the mute speak. She also saw dropsy, spinal meningitis, kidney failure, heart disease, and rheumatism fully healed. Maria regularly prayed for those who were dying, as well as for resurrection for people who had died, she saw God raise people from the dead.

Kathryn Kuhlman

Kathryn’s ministry was iconic in regard to glory miracles. Most of the miracles in her ministry happened while people were in the presence of the manifested glory that accompanied her life and in her meetings.

The institutional church should be so powerful that when the world challenges it, when unregenerate man challenges it—it can reply with God’s miracles.

Smith Wigglesworth

“Wigglesworth released healing wherever he went.… When Wigglesworth ministered in the streets of San Francisco, people came and laid out those who were sick on mattresses in front of him. When he walked by them and his shadow hit them, they were healed.”

T. L. and Daisy Osborn

Inspired by the incredible healing ministry of William Branham, “the Osborns preached to crowds of 20,000 to 250,000 in crusades in 76 countries. Vast numbers have been healed, including the deaf, blind, and crippled. Body organs have been recreated and restored, cancers have died and vanished, lepers have been healed, and the dead have been raised. Most of their power evangelism and healing ministry have been with crowds in developing nations. They established 400 churches a year in these nations.”

Honoring Fathers and Mothers of Revival

There are many global revival wells opened by men and women who are alive today, and they have greatly impacted our family. We have met revival generals such as Bill and Beni Johnson, Randy Clark, Cindy and Mike Jacobs, and our pastors, Jim and Becky Hennesy, who have inspired us to become revival well diggers. Their sacrifice, service, and integrity have impacted my generation greatly.

There are many other generals of revival alive today who have impacted us. Bill Johnson and Randy Clark are deep wells in regard to the miraculous. If you want to grow in the gifts of miracles, I encourage you to study their resources. Bill’s and Randy’s meetings exposed me to miracles live and in person (other than my own personal healings). I still remember the first time I attended a Sunday service at Bethel Church and Bill asked for anyone with cancer to stand up to receive prayer. I fell on my knees crying because I was so happy they took time during a service to pray for miracles. Both Bill’s and Randy’s miracle and impartation meetings awakened us to our revival call. As we sat in the back rows of their meetings and saw lines of people testify to their healings, I sat and wept as I told God, “I was born to do this.” That may sound funny to some, but I long to see justice come to the sick because I know Jesus paid for justice to be served.

Honoring mothers and fathers of revival requires us to receive what they carry. We must position our hearts to receive an impartation from them. Tommy and I do this by attending meetings, studying their books, attending their schools, sowing into their ministries, and most importantly, taking the same risks they did. The first time I prayed for metal to be dissolved in people’s bodies was because I heard Randy tell a testimony about him and Bill seeing metal dissolve in other meetings. I thought, “I can try this too! If I don’t try it, I will never see it.” Tommy and I tried it at one of our miracle meetings, and we saw a woman run across the room as she gained full mobility back in her foot and ankle. She later shared that she had not been able to bend her ankle or run due to the surgery she had three years prior to that night.

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krxnapriya · 2 years ago

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NM3217 - Assignment 1

Abstraction.

Having heard of abstraction only when referring to famous art pieces, I was initially concerned about how I was going to pull off a concept that seemed so elusive, complex, and simple all at once. The lecture, however, helped me to ground my fears and slowly understand the concept as a whole. The main concepts that resounded in my head while I took a look at the assignment brief were efficiency, intentionality, and simplicity. Visually communicating an object/person in the most efficient yet simplest manner without losing any of the intended meaning definitely looked like a mighty challenge, so I turned to what I knew best - music.

Having been in music for multiple years now, I realized that the more comfortable and knowledgeable I was about something, the easier it would be to work with as a starting base to bounce my creative ideas of off. Therefore, I turned to the electric guitar - an instrument I’m constantly in awe of for the beauty that it produces and the intricate fashion in which it is designed.

Self-Reflection:

A virtue and a lesson in itself, that was constantly reinforced while I was working on this assignment was patience. It truly hit hard that good design cannot be rushed. In my case, patience was needed to see my vision through till the end - to give myself time to process the creative block I was facing so I could eventually move past it and push through. With that patience, comes a sweet reward - that small thrill of achievement obtained post-problem-solving.

Adobe Workspace:

The tools that were most helpful while using Adobe Illustrator were the Pen Tool, Curvature Tool, Selection Tool, Direct Selection Tool, Lasso Tool, Anchor Point Tool, Rectangle Tool, and the Ellipse Tool. I changed the opacity of the picture I had taken and made it fairly transparent so that I could start tracing the guitar. Being able to do that helped me focus on the precision of my linework more. I also rounded a lot of the rectangles on the guitar to resemble the original as closely as possible.

Critique:

Critique has been extremely helpful as a guide. It truly opens your eyes up to new perspectives that you had not thought of before, but suddenly make so much sense! When you’ve been staring at your computer for hours or more, you slowly start to lose sight of what you wanted the design to take shape of (and also your sanity..sigh).

For instance, during my critique session, a suggestion garnered was that the last stage of abstraction resembled that of the back of an electric guitar and not the front. I had been pretty conflicted on my final stage of abstraction but that very comment suddenly just flipped the switch inside my brain as I could very much understand that perspective. Other suggestions I got were to space out the strings on my guitar as an aesthetic choice, to re-order my abstractions, and to keep the inner outline of the guitar till the final stage as it was in their words, “quite iconic and recognizable”.

One of the great things about critique though, is that you can acknowledge these suggestions but ultimately still decide for yourself, whether you want to implement them into your final outcome or not. Through trying out these changes though, I got to dive deeper and gain a deeper understanding of what I did not like and what I did, thus refining my abstraction process and honing my vision for the designs.

I was quite grateful for all of these suggestions and implemented most of them to see how they could change the design for the better. There has been a noticeable difference (and hopefully improvement) from the designs presented during critique to my final assignment in that I think my designs have become more intentional than they were earlier. Every little design choice I have implemented has been thought through for its functionality and aesthetic.

The rationale for the Final Stage of Abstraction:

For instance, for the final stage of abstraction, I chose to remove all elements of the electric guitar apart from the main silhouette, the tuners/tuning pegs, and the inner outline seen on the body of the guitar. The main, sleek, and tall silhouette serves to give off a strong impression of the electric guitar. My rationale for leaving the three tuning pegs was to differentiate it from that of a bass guitar, which has four larger pegs. The inner outline although quite common in both types of guitars is seen a tad bit more frequently in electric guitars. Hence, the three main elements at the final stage of abstraction attempt humbly to serve its purpose, thereby alluding to striving towards aesthetics, intentionality, functionality, and simplicity.

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popopretty · 3 years ago

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BSD Chapter 97

“At the airport – Part 6”

We finally have a long chapter this time! And it is sooo good!!!! More on Aya’s backstory and of course, the long awaited duel between Dazai and Fyodor!

I don’t speak either English or Japanese as my first language and I typed this out feeling super hyped after reading the chapter so I may make some mistakes here and there. I may come back and fix some mistakes or change a few details later so please understand.

SPOILERS AHEAD

- Aya takes Bram with her and runs away. She wonders what she is even doing, when she herself is neither a detective or ability user. She has a flashback about her father hitting her and telling her to become a “normal perfect woman”. Fukuchi, meanwhile is searching for her. He orders his vampire subordinates to find and kill the one who stole Bram (at this point he still doesn’t know who did it, he just assumed that’s one of Jouno’s allies).

- Back to jail, Sigma is watching Gogol explain the rules of the escape game to Dazai and Fyodor, thinking to himself that he might be the only normal, decent person in the room. Basically, Fyodor and Dazai will have to inject themselves with a poison that will kill them within 30 minutes, and the first one who gets out of the jail they are in, will be the winner and will get the one and only antidote prepared by Gogol. It means that within 30 minutes, either of them will die. Gogol says he is sorry to Dazai because he actually only wants to kill Fyodor but he doesn’t do this, he would not be able to get Fyodor to inject the poison. Dazai says there is nothing he has to apologize for, because for Dazai it is such a good chance, like a gift of God. Fyodor says it is kind of lonely to think he would lose a chest mate within 30 minutes though. Both of them then inject the poison with smiling faces.

- Back to the airport, Fukuchi’s vampires are blocking the airport and checking everyone. Aya tells Bram to do something about them, but he refuses, asking her to return him to his coffin cuz he is sleepy. Aya gets pissed at Bram and tried to remove the sword from Bram’s body. Bram yelled at her saying that it hurts because it is pierced into his brain. Aya says that if they don’t do anything then world war will happen. Bram tells her how stupid she is to ask that from the Duke of darkness who will bring doom to human. Aya agrees with him, saying that she herself knows that it is stupid. She shows him her hands that have been shaking nonstop. She was born into a world with no violence and war. This is the first time she ever saw a real sword. She doesn’t have anything, be it knowledge or special ability, or physical strength. The only thing she has is the determination to “never ever run away when a crisis hits”. Bram asks her what she is fighting for, being at that age. Aya remembers how she was scold and beaten by her father for not being a “perfect woman” like her passed mother. And how his father called her “a failure of a woman”. She makes up her mind and tries to persuade Bram to help her because the people in this world needs help. She says she will give him anything he wants as thanks. Bram tells her to know her place and tells her that there is one thing that he wants but he believes she cannot grant. That is the rumored, legendary treasure, a mechanism that holds a whole orchestra in itself – the “wireless radio”. If Aya can grant it to him and he will happily devote himself to her. (He looks pretty confident here that Aya cannot have it btw xDD). Aya is surprised hearing that, telling Bram that she might have a radio that his father used in the past. Then she takes out her portable player and let Bram listen to it. Bram is shocked and asks her if she is a God. (XDDD)

- Back to the jail again. Gogol is explaining more about the rules of the game. First is their current position. The place they were in before is the infinity space where they keep the dangerous prisoners, at the deepest level. Now Gogol has taken them to the floor above it, which is 4 floors underground. However, to get to the ground where the exit is, they have to go past all the world-class guards. At each of the floor there are a lot of partition walls that can only be opened by entering the right passcode, which is changed every six hours. If they enter it wrong just once, the door will never open again. Each door is 120cm in thickness and is made from counter-ability material so it cannot be destroyed. Once they get through that, they will have to hop on an elevator, that requires palm print, voiceprint, retina, and genetic authentication to move. All the information will be sent to the central operation room where the operator confirms the people inside the elevator before letting it move. On top of that, in every floor there are heavily armed guards waiting, who will shoot without warning. Their weapons are also activated by genetic authentication, so its impossible to steal it from them.

- Gogol then proceeds to the “worst news”. Every time a suspect is detected, the partitions will immediately be locked and water will be poured in after 10 seconds. That is not normal water, but “heavy water”. When drown inside it, one will not be able to swim, and it is also harmful to the body, so if one drinks too much of it, they will die. In other words, if they are found out by the guards, they will be locked up, and filled with a kind of water that even fishes will drown, then die in agony and regrets. After explaining everything, Gogol ask them if they feel like crying yet. But both Dazai and Fyodor actually look so very excited instead. Even Sigma can tell that they are making those faces while imagining their opponent die in such a painful way.

- Lastly, Gogol offers them a “present”. He has prepared 4 special items to help them escape. But they can only choose 1 of them. The 4 items include: a radio communication device that can keep them informed of the movement of the guards, a card with manager level authorization that can open the only door to the heliport, the bomb coins that Gogol first used when he infiltrated in the beginning, and finally, a satellite phone that can help them connect and call for help from outside once they reach the first level. Whichever item they choose, that might decide the outcome of the match. Gogol lets Fyodor choose first, cuz he is his friend XDD, and Fyodor chooses the card. When it comes to Dazai’s turn, he points to Sigma, which shocked everyone, including Sigma himself. The chapter ends with Sigma wondering what in the world Dazai is even thinking.

And… that’s everything for this month’s chapter!! I can’t believe I typed 1200 words lollll but the chapter is so good omg. I haven’t been this excited for a while. Can’t wait for the next chapter that will come out on January 4th, with BSD on the cover (!!!) and a beautiful bookmark set as magazine bonus! Thank you for reading till the end and I’m sorry for all the mistakes and typos I might have made XDD

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #spoilers #bsd spoilers #summary #not even a summary anymore lol #dazai osamu #fyodor dostoevsky #nikolai gogol #sigma #aya koda #bram stoker

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gar-trek · 4 years ago

Note

please share what you have to say about food cubes!!

I was feeling a little apprehensive about releasing the TOS Food Document™ because it is so damn long…. But since you asked anon

DISCLAIMER:

This is focused solely on food as it appears in the original series. Whatever explanation of food synthesizer/replicator that may come in later series does to apply here. I am also not a Star Trek expert. I’m sure there is some super fan out there who knows everything there is to know about food in TOS, but that person is not me. This is just my thoughts as I’ve observed instances where food is shown or mentioned in TOS. If my thought process is flawed, or I make some claims that don’t really make sense, I am sorry. The food canon is very complicated and vague, so this is me just trying my best to make sense of it. I’d also like to mention I did not explicitly cover the meal scene in What Are Little Girls Made Of? Or the ice cream scene from And The Children Shall Lead, but I do make reference to them. I’m sure there are other food scenes I didn’t get to cover here, so if I’m missing a few pieces, I’m sorry.

Anyway… let’s get into it!

The original series, food, and other things that keep me up at night

I don’t care about continuity or plot holes in Star Trek: The Original Series, and if I did, I think the show would become rather unwatchable. It’s not about what happens to get us from plot point A to B, but more important that we do get there (ie, who cares how or why Spock’s brain has been removed from his body, it’s more important that we do get it back inside).

This being said, there is one aspect to TOS that baffles me to no end, and its something I just cannot overlook: the food. Food, the entire concept of it as it appears in TOS haunts me. Each time they show or mention food it makes less and less sense. It’s a never-ending nightmare and I spend every day trying to understand what goes on in the Enterprise Cafeteria. Today I would like to explore a couple food instances on TOS, and hopefully make a little sense of what is happening.

The first chilling incident: The Man Trap (S1E2) - Rand is a thief

In this episode, we see Yeoman Rand on her way to deliver Sulu his meal. She is carrying a tray of colored food cubes (which is what I will be referring to them as here, because there is no official name) and what we can assume to be some kind of alien variant of celery (earth celery with some red crap stuck on top). While waiting for the turbo lift, Rand eats one of the celery sticks intended for Sulu. My question is why. Like literally why does this happen. Sulu never mentions it (maybe he doesn’t notice). She never mentions it to him, which means we can assume she doesn’t want him to know. So why is Rand stealing food? Does she not get enough to eat? Is the limits for how much you get to eat on the Enterprise that strict you need to turn to thievery to get a proper meal? and if that the case, she’s shorting Sulu on his allotted food. In this same scene, we see Ensign Green (who is really a salt-sucking monster) make a grab for the tray as if he too is going to steal Sulu’d food. However, Rand slaps his hand away and asks “who do you think you are?”, a hypocritical statement considering Rand is also in the act of stealing food. So Rand, I must pose the same question to you. This scene has no resolution, so any interpretation is up to the viewer. Whether you think Rand's actions make her a girlboss or a thief, is up to you, however, one thing is undeniably true: Rand eats food off other people's plates.

Other food-related things of note in this episode is that Sulu sprinkles salt on the celery sticks. This means they are either bland or that's just his personal taste. Also, when Rand gives him his tray, he says “may the great bird of the galaxy bless your planet” and this has nothing really to do with food, I just thought it was kind of badass.

(Sulu’s food tray with 3 celery instead of 4 because Rand ate one)

Incident two: Charlie X (S1E3) - synthetic meatloaf

In Charlie X, we see Captain Kirk make this comment in passing:

“Today on earth it is Thanksgiving, if the crew has to eat synthetic meatloaf I want it to look like turkey.”

This statement leaves us with a couple undeniable truths:

1. Meatloaf is a meal option on the Enterprise.

2. It is synthetic, meaning the meatloaf may not contain any meat at all.

3. It is not shaped like turkey, but it is possible to do so.

if the meatloaf served on the Enterprise is synthetic, then it very well could be made out of the same stuff the colored food cubes are made out of. Also, (and this is pure speculation so take it with a grain of salt) since we never hear anyone refer to the colored food cubes by name, they could literally be the “synthetic meatloaf” that Kirk is referring to here. In this case, the term synthetic meatloaf would not mean a synthetic version of the popular American dish meatloaf but instead loafs of synthetic meat. Since we do not know exactly what synthetic meat looks like, it very well could be brightly colored cubes.

In either case, Kirk is asking them to turn synthetic food from one shape to another. We understand this is possible through the food synthesizer, however, if all the food they eat on the Enterprise is synthetic anyway, then why did Kirk specifically mention synthetic meatloaf in the shape of turkey? would the turkey not instead be made out of synthetic turkey? why must the synthetic turkey be made specifically out of meatloaf? isn’t every single food that comes out of the food synthesizer made out of the same thing? It would have made more sense for Kirk to say “it's thanksgiving so can you made the food synthesizers produce turnkey?”. However, Kirk is like, a really cool guy, so it is possible that the meatloaf comment is just a fun joke. Either way, we know that synthetic meatloaf is a standard menu item on the enterprise, yet we have never seen anyone consume it.

Incident 3: The Corbomite Maneuver (S1E11) - Green leaves

In this episode, Kirk goes in for a physical, and Doctor McCoy reports that the captain is 2 pounds overweight. In response to this, the Doctor changes the captain's dietary card to help him lose a little wight (🙄). We later see the captain served a “dietary salad” in place of his usual meals. The existence of dietary salad is interesting for many reasons. Most importantly, we understand that dietary salad is somehow better for you than what is usually served on the Enterprise. It most likely has a lower caloric intake than say, colored food cubes. However, as discussed before, most if not all the food on the Enterprise is synthetic. If the food is created, and not naturally made, then one can assume its caloric value can be controlled. Would it not be possible to make a lower-calorie version of colored food cubes? one would assume that the cubes are made to have the perfect amount of nutrients to satisfy yet keep humans a healthy weight if they are in fact a form of synthetic man-made food. How would the captain overeat, if portions are pre-determined by dietary cards? Is Kirk somehow going rouge and consuming food that is not created by the food synthesizer (the captain's secret cookie stockpile??).

The existence of this salad also begs another question: is it synthetic as well, or are they growing fresh salad on the Enterprise? We do know that they are able to grow things on the ship, however, there has never been any discussion of growing crops specifically for consumption. If this is the case though, it may explain why we often see crew members eating celery sticks. Perhaps things like celery sticks and dietary salads are grown on the Enterprise, but all other food is synthetically created. In which case, who’s job is it to harvest food and prepare it for meals? Did Rand have to put that dietary salad together all on her own?

One more interesting point about the Salad: When Kirk first receives it, he asks

“what in the devil is this? Green leaves?”

which prompts Rand to explain that it’s a salad. It is very possible that Kirk genuinely has no idea what a salad is. He may have never had one, nor heard of the food in his entire life. Later we see him eat the salad with his hands, which further proves the point that captain kirk doesn't know what salad is. Why captain Kirk would somehow have no knowledge of salad is up to speculation.

Incident 4: The conscience of the king (S1E14) - Cry over spilled milk

In this episode, Lieutenant Riley is served colored food cubes and a glass of what appears to be milk. There isn’t much of significance here, other than the fact we know it is possible to get a glass of milk with your meal on the Enterprise. Unlike Sulu, Riley doesn’t have any celery sticks but seems to have a larger serving of colored food cubes as compensation. We also learn that milk is served in a large glass, something that seems very impractical on a starship.

Riley proves my point moments later when he spills milk on a control panel and shatters the glass. This begs the question, who is going to clean that up?

Incident 5: Tomorrow is Yesterday (S1E20) - Chicken noodle soup

In this episode, the Enterprise accidentally beams a 60′s army man abroad their ship (for the second time). This random chad ensign asks the man if he’s hungry because he’s a troll I guess and he wanted to flex their cool future food machine. The army captain guy is like sure, I could go for some chicken soup right now (a very natural response to being beamed onto a spaceship for the first time). Chad ensign has like three cards in front of him, and I guess one of them just happens to be chicken soup because he puts it in the machine and the soup appears. Grant it, we never actually get to see the soup with out own eyes, but the army captain does seem to be pretty convinced that it is chicken soup just by the smell. This opens up a couple possibilities:

-The food synthesizer can make almost anything you want, and the card is maybe like a very broad category, like a dinner card, and when you put it in you can pick any dinner food you’d like.

-The food synthesizer can only make what is specific to each card, and the ensign just got extremely lucky and happened to have a card that was the exact food the army captain wanted.

More evidence, which we will go over later, points more towards the theory that one card is equal to one specific type of food. In this case, it is unclear how the synthesizer food cards are distributed, or how you get your pick of what food you would like. It is also more likely that options would be limited. This does make sense, however, it makes this scene very confusing, as, as I’ve pointed out, the ensign had a very limited number of cards, but exactly what the captain had asked for. Pure luck? what mind game was that Chad ensign trying to play with the poor man who was abducted from earth... we will never know.

One more very interesting thing is established here: The transporter room has a food synthesizer. Why this is is purely up to speculation. In my mind, having a food synthesizer in the transporter room would be like having a full kitchen where you park your car. Seems pretty useless, but maybe the guys in the transporter room requested easy access to snacks? Why the transporter room would get this special privilege is again, up to speculation.

Incident 6: Space Seed (S1E23) - Dinner with Khan

In Space Seed a special dinner is put together to welcome Khan onto the Enterprise. We see that they are being served colored food cubes and celery sticks. Doctor McCoy walks into the dining room and comments about how the display is “very impressive”. However, this seems like a very unusual comment considering we are shown the only food we have ever seen consumed on the Enterprise. What exactly makes this food “impressive” as compared to other celery sticks and colored food cubes? Is there some way to tell this particular food is better that we don’t know about, but is obvious to everyone on the Enterprise?

There is also a chance that Doctor McCoy is just very easily impressed with food, and upon seeing any food spread he is likely to comment in wonder. Note the way Scotty is looking at McCoy. His face is a mixture of confusion, judgment, and pity. Perhaps Scotty is thinking to himself “bruh, it’s literally just colored food cubes chill out man,”. There is no explanation as to why Scotty is giving McCoy such a look, so this very well could be the case. Even though it is a silly explanation, I don’t think it should be ruled out that one of McCoy’s personality traits is being overly excited about food of any kind.

Incident 7: Journey to Babel (S2E10) Party food

Much like in Space Seed, in this episode, we get to see a meal put together for a special occasion. All the diplomates are getting down at a mixer where a spread of food has been provided. These snacks seem very similar to colored food cubes, however I do think they differ. They may be the same type of food, but different in some way. In which case colored food cubes is an overarching category of food, and here we see two different types. The smaller more brightly colored cubes can be put in drinks, though if this is what you are supposed to do with them, or just the preference of that one alien species I do not know. Though I must point out, we have seen colored food cubes served in brown sauce in What are Little Girls Made Of? (S1E8) so it is not completely unheard of to have your colored food cubes served soggy.

The other type of colored food cubes we see are a lot larger and more pair shaped (in reality, they probably were just skinned pairs dipped in food coloring, but for this essay, it’s important that we completely ignore the fact there is another life outside of Star Trek). Now to me, these are very interesting, because the dull color and apparent texture are a lit more similar to standard colored food cubes we have seen thus far. I would even go o far to say that this is the same exact food, just sans the cubed shape. So really, standard colored food cubes are just the cubed version of whatever this food is. This, again, is just speculation, but it does point us to the fact that colored food cubes are not naturally cubed (I’m going somewhere with this is promise)

Incident 8: The Trouble With Tribbles (S2E15) The trouble with Chicken sandwichs

Here we see Kirk attempting to order a chicken sandwich and coffee. What he gets instead is a plate full of tribbles, hilarity ensues. I think this scene is interesting because we can add to our list of food items that are on the menu at the enterprise cafeteria: chicken sandwich. However, this is another food item we do not see. There is no way of knowing if the Enterprise's version of a chicken sandwich is what we would imagine a chicken sandwich to be. Much like the meatloaf and the soup, because we do not see it, there is no way of knowing if the food exists in the way that we as 21st-century people understand it. The events of TOS take place more than 200 years in our future, so to speculate that food could change a lot during that time isn’t a stretch. I don’t know, just some food for thought (lol)

Incident 9: By Any Other Name (S2E22) Living deliciously

In this episode, an alien taking the form of a human enjoys some colored food cubes. He makes a comment about how they are good they are while enthusiastically eating his food. This is a very important moment because it tells us that colored food cubes do taste good. In fact, they taste really good. Just before he eats, the alien comments on how humans could just take pills that give them all their nutrient needs and give up food completely (think the Jetsons cartoon). On the Enterprise, they do not eat just to live, but because they enjoy their food as well. This tells us that colored food cubes are at the very least, worth eating, and at the best, very delicious.

One more interesting thing: Spock is eating some kind of soup while everyone else enjoys colored food cubes. This could be a Vulcan preference, however, we know that Spock is vegetarian. This could be alluding to the fact that Colored Food Cubes are made out of meat.

Conclusion:

Yes, I asked a lot more questions than I answered. There are some things that make absolutely no sense to me, primarily, the food synthesizer and diet cards. Some evidence points to the fact that the food synthesizer can make practically anything (see Tomorrow is Yesterday, And the Children Shall Lead). However, one dietary card is equal to one specific food, which would mean they would have to produce a lot of these dietary cards if there is many meal options. How these cards are distributed, and what their limitations are, we do not know. And although we do not know the limits of what the food synthesizer can create, we do know these food have been served on the enterprise at least at one point:

-colored food cubes (variety)

-celery

-synthetic meatloaf

-synthetic turkey (Thanksgiving Special)

-Dietary Salad

-Milk

-Chicken Soup

-Chicken Sandwich

-Mystery Soup

-Ice cream (variety of flavors)

All of this food (except for maybe the dietary salad and celery) are synoptically created, so what they are actually made up of, I cannot say.

And finally, I would like to make a point about the colored food cubes. I think upon first inspection one would assume colored food cubes is a dish created specifically for space travel (think the food created for modern-day astronauts to consume in space). However, we learned that there is possibly a variety of colored food cube dishes. Since there is such a wide variety of food on the Enterprise, why would they also need to create a food specifically for space travel? I think that colored food cubes are actually a common dish, not intended specifically for space travel. Perhaps it was an alien food that got popular on earth, maybe it was a dish developed later in Earth's history by humans. I can only speculate, but I do think it is more than just boring space food. Everyone seems to have a preference for it, so I think it’s a dish you can eat over and over again and not get sick of. What colored food cubes taste like is completely up to speculation, but I would assume they are a savory food, considering we often see people enjoying them for their main meal.

I still have more to say, but for the sake of everyone, I’ll end it there. This was a lot of thought dumping, so if some of the things I said made no sense at all, I’m sorry. I’d love to hear some of your thoughts on TOS food! please share with me what you think colored food cubes would taste like :)

#star trek #tos #star trek tos #the original series #anon reveal yourself so i can kiss you #please #whole ass ted talk #sorry this is so long #colored food cubes #kirk #james t kirk #spock #bones #leonard mccoy #journey to babel #space seed #yeoman rand #sulu #hikaru sulu

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wenamedthedogkylo · 3 years ago

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OKAY HOLD THE FUCKIN PHONE FOLKS, IT’S TIME FOR MORE CRAZY CAMPAIGN 3 META AND THEORIZING.

I’m still working on my ridiculous Pepe-Silvia-esque conspiracy theory post after Ep 13, don’t worry. I literally have a whole Google Doc going full of notes and quotes and the occasional timestamp if I feel it’s relevant. But I’m currently rewatching Episode 8 and have reacquainted myself with some info about Cyrus’s problem that has lead to a whole new theory, which I think is very related.

So buckle up, let’s dive into it. Spoilers ahead for Episodes 7 and beyond, if you’re not caught up on that.

To quickly recap: Ep 8 is the one where the Gang (as I’m calling them for now) sits down to talk with Chetney after killing the wall-monster. During that convo, Dorian introduces them to his brother Cyrus, who then proceeds to tell them about the mess he’s in. Now I’m sure I’m not alone here, but in the time since that episode aired (just before Xmas) and now, I’d definitely forgotten a few things. But these are the biggest facts that I think the Gang and we the audience still remember for sure:

Cyrus was hired to help protect a caravan that was hauling a bunch of money and a mysterious crate. The other people who were hired to guard it turned out to be thieves who proceeded to steal a bunch of the gold being transported, as well as a weird stone golem which they commanded to help them.

Cyrus, who had no knowledge of any of this, was left behind to take the fall. He was accused of being part of the plan, arrested, escaped, and subsequently had a 20,000 GP bounty placed on him.

Cyrus noted that the crate the golem burst out of had the initials J.H. on it. And Ashton was later able to confirm that the golem had belonged to his sort-of patron/sort-of blackmailer Jiana Hexum, who seemingly has a special interest in golems, as evidenced by the two stationed outside her house.

Now based on all this, it’s clear the Gang/the cast have been operating under the assumption that Jiana Hexum is the one who put out the bounty on Cyrus. After all, the golem was clearly a big ticket, high value item that she was angry about losing and very much wants back. She’s indicated that she has people working on trying to get the golem back, and the Gang has been treating her as the one they’d need to please in order to get Cyrus’s bounty removed.

Part of this is probably because at 2:25:00, Matt tells the Gang that they didn’t specifically ask Cyrus who hired him and/or put out the bounty on him, meaning Cyrus didn’t specifically tell them that info. From that point on, they focus on figuring out who J.H. is, and when they learn who it is, treat her as the one they need to bargain with.

But Matt’s a (very lovely) human being, contrary to what some people out there seem to think. And he sometimes forgets or misremembers things. And in fact, at 1:32:04, FCG does ask Cyrus who hired him, to which Cyrus responds that the bounty on him was put out by the guild who runs that caravan: the Gold Guild of Treshi.

This was significant at the time. After all, the Gang had just discovered that House Treshi owned the Stone Mason’s Guild which would have been responsible for repairs in the alley behind the Dreamscape Theater. But at that time, we didn’t even know who Armand Treshi was or how important this house would become, so it could have been a red herring. And I think due to Matt’s later mistake and to the growing importance of Jiana Hexum as the plot has progressed, this tidbit of information was left behind. (To be clear, not the cast’s fault—they’re busy adult people who cannot reasonably be expected to remember every tiny detail. I just happen to be someone with a disturbing amount of free time on their hands to comb through for this shit.)

So here’s where my brain got to spinning about this. To me, it seems Extremely Unlikely™ that either House Treshi with all their power and money OR a guild they control wouldn’t be able to screen their hired security for potential threats. Yes, it is technically possible that this group of thieves were really just that good, and managed to hoodwink the Gold Guild into hiring them.

But really? A guild that we can presume is responsible for handling and transporting the riches of the Mahaan houses—possibly for any and all banking in Jrusar—and which is owned/managed by one of the most powerful Mahaan houses in all of the Oderan Wilds, cannot be bothered to double check that their hired security isn’t going to turn on them and jack their goods?

Nah. Nah nah nah. I call bullshit. Rich people care more about their money than other people’s lives; they wouldn’t leave their gold (or their prized possessions) in the hands of anyone they thought would steal it.

Unless they meant for those people to steal it.

I propose that the caravan robbery wasn’t just a setup by some petty thieves looking to make bank. It was a setup by Armand Treshi.

It goes like this:

Armand’s house runs the Gold Guild. Through this, he knows that a caravan they manage is going to be moving a ton of gold and at least one really valuable and handy golem.

Armand hires a group of thieves to stage a robbery of the caravan. We can’t be sure what he told them to take, but Cyrus said the thieves were surprised that the golem came awake during the heist. So it seems like maybe they were only told to steal money.

To get access, Armand arranges for the Gold Guild to hire these thieves as the caravan’s protection. And as part of this plan, the Guild also hires Cyrus, someone who isn’t part of the group or the plan, to be the fall guy.

The plan goes off without a hitch. The thieves make off with a fuckton of cash, and when the golem wakes up, their leader Nova orders it to start helping them round up gold and come with them. Cyrus is left behind and is royally boned.

The Gold Guild and House Treshi have Cyrus arrested, and when he escapes, they put out the great whoppin’ bounty on his head. This gives them plausible deniability. How could they have known their hired help was going to rob them? They just lost a ton of money, too! They’re also victims here, and they’re determined to get justice!

Meanwhile, the thieves take their loot and the golem back to Armand. Armand now has a buttload of money that is officially off the books, which he can put towards nefarious uses. Such as, oh I dunno, hiring a terrifying fey creature to do magical experiments for him? Or giving his lackey Vali Dertrana the money to hire a famously expensive bounty hunter to bag a werewolf? Or buying and moving a lot of illegal brumestone? ;)

He also now has a pretty sweet stone golem that he can use however he sees fit! I’m on the fence as to whether he meant to acquire it or not, but I’m leaning much closer to yes he did. Like I said, he has the hookup to know exactly what was in that caravan, and seeing as he’s clearly into some shady shit, I bet he’d see the golem as a potentially valuable tool.

So, where does this theory leave us? Well, that depends. I also theorized during the stream of Ep 13 that Cyrus and the Corsairs were being manipulated by Emoth Kade, who was setting them up to be captured by the Paragon’s Call during the ball, as part of a larger play by Armand to get Paragon’s Call instated into the city and weaken the Corsairs.

If any of these theories holds any water, then our beloved himbo is fucking screwed. Depending on just how nefarious and deep you think Armand’s schemes go, you could extrapolate from here that Armand and Emoth aren’t just setting the Corsairs up to be captured. Maybe they specifically manipulated Cyrus, knowing that the bounty the Gold Guild has on him would motivate him to make more money to pay it off. Maybe they’re not just hoping to strike a public blow to the Corsairs, but they’re also hoping to catch the quarry of their bounty and show that House Treshi is the only one doing anything to stop the rampant problems in the city.

(For that matter, I have questions about how Cyrus escaped when he was arrested. He’s... not exactly a super genius, and I say that with nothing but love. We don’t know where he was held or by who, but it’s safe to assume he was put in the Granite Hold prison. Did the Corsairs help him escape? Or did Armand Treshi secretly arrange his escape, so that he could get a bounty out for the “thief’s” arrest and provide a further distraction to keep suspicious eyes away from him?)

Tbh, I have no fucking clue. I think it just supports the growing notion I have that Armand isn’t just looking to gain a little extra clout in Jrusar. He’s after something much, much bigger. If most of the threads the Gang have been stumbling upon really do lead back to Armand, as I believe they do, then this fucker seems to be primed to pull some major hostile takeover shit.

That’s the beauty of CR and Matt’s plotting/worldbuilding abilities, though. There’s so many ways all of this can go still, and no matter how many theories I or anyone else comes up with, we’re all gonna be surprised by whatever he pulls out of his bag. (And given the Gang’s penchant for chaos, Matt himself might even end up surprised ksjdfhdsk)

#Critical Role #campaign 3 #critical role meta #critical role theory #c3 theory #c3 meta #critical role spoilers #cr spoilers #campaign 3 spoilers #Bree's stuff #about me #about Bree

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xlbrh · 4 years ago

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Genshin Impact - Small things they do to show their love

notes : so i’ve been trying to think of an idea for a long story to write for one of the characters, but i’ve been having a little bit of trouble :( if anyone has any suggestions i’d love to hear them! hopefully i’ll be able to come out with an introduction or something soon

in the meantime i wrote this up, so i hope that you guys enjoy!

Genshin Masterlist

warnings : none

format : bulleted, headcanons. fluff

pairings : diluc, kaeya, childe, zhongli, xiao, albedo, aether x gn! reader

word count : 1426

everything under the cut-

Diluc:

during your nightly walks around mondstadt, he notices how chills can rack your body, especially when the wind blows

he’ll remove his jacket and drape it around your form, no matter how much you may protest

sometimes his arms will circle around your waist, drawing you towards him in an effort toto keep you warm until you get home

if you’ve been out adventuring close to the dawn winery, he’d invite you to the manor to share a meal or drink, whichever you’d like

whatever you desire, he’ll see to it that you receive it – most of the time he wouldn’t even ask you due to how well he can read you and your actions

when you try to refuse his offers, he’ll tell you ‘just let me look after you, my love’

when you come to visit him in the angel’s share, he always has a seat ready just for you

he’ll keep a blanket and some books under the bar, since he knows how you like to curl up in the corner, engrossed in your reading

if you’d like he’ll come and sit with you for a short while, bringing a drink of your choice over while you tell each other about your day

Kaeya:

kaeya is the kind of man to call you every pet name under the sun

whether it be sweetheart, darling, love etc. he loves to use these types of names for you frequently, as a form of affection

he loves your reactions to them, especially when your cheeks flare up and you turn away out of shyness – he finds it extremely endearing

he would offer to train you in swordsmanship, regardless of whether you can already wield a sword or not

he likes to not only see your strength grow, but also offer you a way to protect yourself since he cannot be with you at all times

kaeya takes pride in the training sessions you have, after all they give him another reason to spend even more time with you

he loves for you guys to have matching things, no matter how small they may be

for example, he’ll buy you a bracelet to wear, one that matches with one on his own wrist as well

jokingly he once bought you an eyepatch to match his, but he finds it sweet but hilarious when you’ll wear it around him sometimes

Childe:

since this man is a literal walking wallet, he has no problem with spoiling you with gifts

whether that be a necklace you’ve had your eye on, a new shirt because you ripped yours in battle, or a book he knows is the next in the series you enjoy

when asking him why he leaves you so many small gifts, his response is just ‘well, because i love you, of course!’

if you ever get hurt during a battle, he’ll be the first to help you

whether that be taking down the enemies if you haven’t already, or tending to the wounds you’ve received

he’d work with utmost caution, wrapping each wound gently and finishing them off with a kiss on top

when strolling the streets of liyue together, childe ensures that your body is connected to his one way or another at all times

whether that be intertwining your hands together, an arm loosely wrapped around your waist, or stopping to give you a brief peck on the forehead

he has no qualms in showing the public that you’re his – something he makes you well aware of

Zhongli:

he knows you love when he tells you stories of his past and the history of liyue, and he enjoys telling you about them

he finds the childlike wonder in your eyes adorable as he tells you tales of adepti and archons alike

zhongli will try his best to make them as entertaining as possible for you – drawing you in with every word he uttered

he likes to play with your hair, and for you to do the same to him

if you have longer hair you can guarantee he’d be braiding and styling your hair in all different ways, adorning it with hairpins he’d purchase for you

if your hair is on the shorter side then he’d love to run his fingers through, stroking your hair and massaging your scalp until you fall asleep with your head against his chest

if there is anything in particular that you take a big interest in, zhongli will try his best to research around it – even though he probably has the knowledge anyways

he wants to be able to talk to you about things you’re interested in, as well as share in the enjoyment that you get from it

he would leave small notes to you when he can’t always be around you, sometimes with small facts he learned of

Xiao:

he would for sure watch over you if you ever go on a long adventure, no matter what other duties he may have to attend to

expect to see a good few hilichurl and treasure hoarder camps abandoned thanks to his interference

‘anything to ensure your safety’, he thinks

some nights, when his duties have been fulfilled early, he’ll try his hand at preparing a meal for you to share

of course nothing especially fancy! After all he doesn’t have to eat himself – its all for your enjoyment

if he struggles he’d probably reach out to verr goldet some help

just imagine him setting a small picnic up on the wangshu inn rooftop iM WEAK

once xiao finally becomes accustomed to physical contact, he’d make an effort to hold your hand a lot more often

lightly squeezing it or tracing shapes with his thumb every now and again

if you’re lucky he way even take his gloves off – just to feel that warmth from his hand can be very comforting indeed

Albedo:

you’re literally the only person he will listen to when he is engrossed in his experiments

as we know he tends to block out the rest of the world when he is deep in though

but as soon as he hears your voice of concern asking if he’ll take a break to eat, you wanna bet he’ll be leaving his office in an instant to join you for lunch

he does the exact same for you when you’re hard at work, so he appreciates the way you always look after him

when out looking for more specimens to analyse, he stumbles across his fair share of flowers

of course he knows which are your favourites – he knows everything about you, after all – so he’ll be sure to pick some to bring home to you

when giving them to you, he mentions ‘well, they reminded me of you, so i thought you’d like them’

if you ever get ill for some reason, albedo becomes your personal doctor

he’ll spend hours preparing serums and medicines for you to alleviate your pain – but will never let you out of his sight while doing so

he’ll ask noelle if she can fix up some food for you in the meantime, since at every free opportunity he’s sat at your bedside, hand in yours as he whispers words of comfort to you

Aether:

aether is always ready to make you something to eat whenever you’d like!

he for sure has a small section of his brain dedicated to learning of recipes that he knows you enjoy, no matter how simple or complicated they may be

will make sure that you always have some lunch ready to take with you wherever you go, even if it means he had to wake up early and travel halfway across teyvat to bring it to you

he will bring you back numerous treasures from his travels

sometimes he’ll ask the locals in whichever area he’s in if they can craft the raw materials into something that you can treasure

there would be a shelf in your room specifically for aether’s gifts, where he’ll occasionally point to each one and tell you the story of how it made it’s way back to you

he makes sure to let you know how grateful he is to have you by his side

every time you do something for him, no matter how small it may be, he’ll thank you and let you know how much you mean to him

when on his travels he makes sure to write letters and send them home to you – just because he’s far away doesn’t mean he’s not still thinking about you

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casuallivi · 2 years ago

Text

TTYLTOYD chapter 5

Words: 5178

Enjoy. Comments are welcome and cherished :)

Part 5: Of Friends, Bonfires and Night Creatures

The Vallaghen residence housed a single person, Mrs. Vallaghen.

Mrs. Vallaghen was a short, brown skin elder, with mud-green hair and light green eyes, who Elain liked very much. They first met when Elain helped her to organize and donate her late son belongings, who had perished in battle just like Elain’s father. At the time, the two women worked in silence for a week, hands busy sorting items, grieving the loss of different loved ones. When the job was done, Mrs. Vallaghen invited Elain for tea.

Tea became lunch.

Lunch became dinner.

Mrs. Vallaghen talked.

Elain listened.

Alicia Vallaghen’s eyes were sad as she talked about war, but they wrinkled with a wistful smile as she recalled cherished memories of the gone. The woman spoke dearly of her son, Danall, an adored only child conceived after 276 years of loving marriage, who grow into a fire-spirited warrior. Strong enough to serve in the Second Fae Battalion, following the footsteps of his father. The woman spoke dearly of her husband, Elden, an ex-swordsmith, who became a soldier during a rebellion against the former High Lord. Elain learned that said rebellion was suppressed quickly, but Elden developed a taste for the job, ending up fighting alongside Rhysand in the war that culminate in the construction of the wall.

Both men never returned from the battlefield.

“We cannot bring back those who left us, dear. We can only keep their memory alive, pass their story forward. Whenever we are ready.” she added the last part with a knowing look, as if she knew that Elain had a heart as heavy as hers. Elain only nodded, her wound still fresh to be touched.

Alicia and Elain continue to meet every other week to share a meal, company or knowledge, a precious friendship blooming between them.

Elain taught Alicia how grow a garden, how to tend to chrysanthemum and carnations, how to mix the correct leaves and brew them to eliminate the ache in her lower back, how to bake a light banana tart that allowed an enjoyable afternoon nap, how to keep bottled vegetables preserved for longer. In return, Alicia taught Elain Prythian’s history. Precious pieces of information learned along centuries of careful study.

Much like Nesta, Alicia was a bookworm. She loved them enough to start working as a Reparateur – a person responsible for reconstructing old books. Elain always smiled noticing how much she loved her job, how fascinated she was by the things she learned. Alicia talked passionately about the meticulous work of transcribing knowledge that have been around for a millennium, the different kinds of damage an archive could suffer, the intricate spells used to reveal spent ink, remove hard smudges and revert burn marks.

A delicate job where one could perpetuate of destroy legacies.

Today, as they enjoyed a calm afternoon chatting over tea and biscuits, Alicia made a comment that jolted Elain.

“My friends call me the forgotten librarian for working in the innermost part of one,” she smiled, fond of the nickname, then her eyes grew distant, heavy. “But I’m more than that. I’m an everlasting open door to the future, I know everything that can happen for the rest of my immortal life – a time portal, if you may.”

Elain tensed in her rocket chair, tea freezing inside her mug. The crackling fire roared slightly, watching, waiting. “Are you,” she cleared her throat, careful to lower her voice, “are you a seer?” Her mind was racing, full of expectation, question buzzing in her brain.

Are you like me?

Are you my companion?

Are you my teacher?

“A seer?” Alicia repeated, surprised by the question. “By the cauldron, no, I’m not a seer. There are no seers alive since the fall of the eight court, darling. The only thing I can see is the past, for I read about it.” She finished emphasizing the words ‘see’ and ‘read’, her green eyes lit with wisdom.

Unnoticed by the elder, the fire diminished to its original form as Elain slouched in her chair, feeling her hope extinguishing as the small flames licking the stone.

Alicia continued. “What I’m trying to tell you, is that the past contains a trace of every possible future. All that we know, all that we learn, is to be used as inspiration or as a warning sign, because time is like a clock coming in full circle to start again where it once was. Know your past and future is unpredictable no more. Have I told you about king Havien, the conqueror? He was a male who took pride in his understanding of time, using the failures of his predecessors to fuel his success. He was the only king of Hybern to–”

Elain tuned out, listening to her words half-heartedly, a single sentence looping in her mind.

There are no seers alive.

Elain left the elder’s house with a heavy heart, loneliness creping in. A loneliness that Elain worked hard to keep at bay. She shook her head, doing her best to not let the bad thoughts take over. After her love life went downhill –again– Elain kept busy, doing her best to move on. She worked to control and understand her dreams and visions, helped in the gardens around town, taught the children at the orphanage, worked in Mellinda’s bakery, she studied natural medicine, history, new languages. But no matter how much she worked, nothing felt quite right as before. Elain felt numb. Void of something that she couldn’t quite place her head around. The hollow in her chest was a constant companion. No matter what she did, it did not go away.

The wind blew cold and heartless, gloom as her mood, tugging her hair in different directions. She was still living with Feyre when Cerridwen found her in front of a mirror with half of her hair mangled, wrestling with a pair of scissors. "Let it go." The Seer growled chopping the strands, Elain snarling and trying to control her hands, watching herself working the scissor on the outside world as if she was trapped inside the mirror. A memory played in her mind. A maid parting her hair, combing each side a hundred times while her mother smile proudly on the side. “A woman’s beauty lies in her hair. You’ll understand it when you are older.” If her mother could see her now, she would faint. Cerridwen had kindly offer to fix the cut, Elain ending up with a bob, her waves curling above her shoulders without the extra length weighting them down. Since then the hair had grown a little, enough that she could tie it back without the elastic falling down.

Elain stopped and stared at the familiar white gates, surprised to found herself in front of the Townhouse. She wondered how the garden was faring here. It had been months since she last took care of it, and just because no one was occupying the place now, it didn’t mean the house would seat empty for long. She pushed the gate and walked in. Her boots were off the second she stepped into the porch, enjoying the wood temperature swiping through her socks. She turned the doorknob and padded her way through the hallway.

To her surprise, Cerridwen and Nuala were on the floor of the siting room, a mess of papers, parchments, waxes and stamps scattered between them.

“Good evening!” she beamed, happy to see her friends.

Their heads snapped up.

“Good evening, my soft feet friend.” Nuala grinned.

“How did you get in?” Cerridwen questioned.

“The door was open.” Elain answered casually, draping her coat on the back of the sofa. Her eyes fell on the book at the center table. Her book. Valoar Heafther, The Forgotten Tongue Volume 1. She had brought the book here the day the girls went on their mission, thinking the quiet house would be a better place to focus on the new language. Once here, all she could think about were moments shared in the dead of night, the book forgotten in the same page for the rest of the day. “I thought you wouldn’t be back for another month.”

“So did I.” Nuala grumbled. “Nothing but smoke and mirrors, I tell you. Now we’re stuck with a shitload of paper again. Just my luck.”

“Every part of the job is important.” Cerridwen reprimanded her sister.

“But not every part is fun. Pity we hit a dead end.” Nuala stretched, bracing herself on her palms, a mischievous glint taking over her black eyes. “You know, there were two Peregryns near where I was stationed. They trained every day as the sun came up, fully armed and everything. Those magnificent wings of white feathers, chests covered with a golden armor, gleaming under the sunlight, the sword sequences making their veins pop out,” she sighed theatrically, her corporeal body solidifying further, exhibiting a dreamy expression. “There’s just something about winged males, don’t you think?”

Elain averted her eyes, trying to keep her face neutral, a traitorous flush giving her away. “You are evil.”

Nuala snickered, earning a slap from her sister. Elain hugged her friend as a thank you. “I simple jest, my better half, no need for violence.” The mischievous wraith tuned to Elain, knocking her down in a tight embrace, smacking her cheeks loudly. “Did you come to save me from boredom?” Elain laughed at the melodramatics.

The twins similarities ended in their appearance. Like Elain, Cerridwen was friendly in a reserved and contained manner, tending to observe and keeping her analysis to herself unless she was asked about it. Nuala, on the other hand, was a small hurricane of mischief, adept to interruptions, eager to share and propense to lots of physical contact. The girls had never hidden from her. Once Elain decided to learn how to lead her new life, Nuala and Cerridwen were nothing if not genuine and honest, never treating her like a broken doll, making her feel stupid for having questions, making her feel crazy for not understanding what was happening to herself. Their friendship changed her life in dimensions they could not imagine.

“Stop that.” The more Elain tried to wiggle away, the more kisses she won “Gods, you’re strong. I came for the garden, plants also like to receive attention and love.” She gave two affectionate slaps on Nuala’s bum, finishing with another frustrated attempt to be free. Invoking her best puppy eyes, she called for Cerridwen. “Help. Please.”

The other wraith tugged her sister away, who still tried to cling to Elain, panting, “bring me that pile before you leave!” frenetically pointing at the armchair

Elain placed the papers in front of Nuala, curiosity leading her to scan the chaos, trying to judge how classified it was before going outside. If they had no qualms about her touching stuff, those papers were not hidden information, but what she liked to think as in-your-face-information. The type one had to piece together in order to gain advantage. She opened the shed going straight to her gardening boots and the box of tools, still thinking back to the unsorted paperwork. She had spied piles from Day, Dawn and Spring. The faint mark of a black skull on a few paper corners. A map of the border with the continent. A pen engraved with diamonds. Coded letters. She wrinkled her nose smelling her fingertips. The pile from the armchair had faint scent of melted snow and anger washed by the rain.

She rummaged the soil plucking all the exceeding weed, trimmed bushes, cut twigs and fixed the sprinkles where a part of the hose had disconnected. When she was satisfied with her work, Elain cleaned the tools and put everything back to their original places, returning to the house. She took a quick glance at her friends on her way to the kitchen. The twins worked in synchrony, a strong sisterhood transcending to the work field, perfected by centuries of life. Elain admired them a lot. Her lips shaped in a sad smile.

Elain loved her sisters with her whole heart, and they loved her back. The problem was their bond was strained, disrupted by ugly cracks born during poverty, cracks that never fully healed. The Archerons had an implicit family motto: Be strong. No matter what you are going through, be strong. That’s how the sisters had operated since their father’s downfall, doing whatever was necessary to survive, never letting other see how broken you were on the inside, making them distance themselves from the world – and sometimes, from each other. That’s how they end up hurting each other again and again, waiting for a proper time to slowly come back together. Not to apologize and make peace, but to bury the hurtful things said and done, and pretend nothing happened.

Honestly, the dynamic made her tired to the bone.

Elain was over faking and playing pretend.

Her new goal was to be more honest.

Honest with herself and with the people around her.

Elain was searching the cabinets for provisions, planning on making a simple meal for the three of them when Nuala pushed through the double doors.

“What are you doing?”

“Dinner.”

“Where are you going after?”

“Home.” The wraith grinned. “What?”

It felt like someone had gathered a thousand fireflies and released them in the same place. The small colorful creatures zoomed in the air making it seem like she could touch stars, their presence illuminating scant path in the woods.

“Where are we going?” Elain breathed in awe.

Nuala and Cerridwen traded arms with her, guiding her through the sinuous trail.

“You’ll see.”

They walked in pleasant silence, the tranquil sounds of nature accompanying their steps. The twins were fully corporeal tonight, silky black hair flowing straight behind them, glowing dark skin contrasting beautifully with a combination of white. Mini white. The skirt ended along with the curve of their asses, and the blouse – if Elain could even call that piece of fabric a blouse – was a white spaghetti strap crop top completely embroidered with pearls, the look paired with silk golden sandals. Her friends were all toned arms, shaped legs and flat bellies in display. Elain looked down at her covered tummy.

They had dressed her in similar manner, except her skirt length went all the way to her calves, and her blouse had larger straps with just the hint of a V neckline. Still, when Elain saw the outfit, she tried to run from it, Nuala begging her to give it a try, promising she would give her a jacket if Elain felt too uncomfortable. Elain checked herself in the mirror turning to a tomato seeing so much skin exposed, pulling her skirt high enough cover her belly button, the evident contour of belly and hips making her nervous. At least her breasts were small, making them perfectly covered by white and pearls.

Her ears twitched, capturing the lazy sound of waves crashing.

They emerged on a beach.

“Welcome to Sehyr. Well, Sehyr’s beach.” Elain remembered seeing the name on a map. If memory served, Sehyr was a small city situated in the coast of Night Court.

The first thing Elain notice was the smell. It smelled delicious. A mix of roasted meat and spices mingling with burning fire wood, a whiff of rosemary and garlic butter making her stomach growl. As the scents filled her nose, music filled the air. Guitars, drums, flutes, singers, a mismatched combination that somehow went well together, coaxing the fae to dance and sing along. Long wood tables were set opposite to the water, foods and drinks from every shape and color covering the surfaces, dozens of bonfires extended along the beach, logs and colorful towels spread around them, males and females lazing in the cushion –eating, drinking, talking…making out.

Nuala took her to the food table before easing around one of the bonfires, sitting on a colorful pink towel and pressing their backs against a log. Her cheeks flushed when she spied a particular couple rolling on the sand, the male’s hand having disappeared under the female’s dress, Elain’s keen ears capturing her moans and the soft slap of flesh. She averted her eyes, looking up, finding sparkling little blue flags dangling from the sky.

"You'll crack your neck bending like that, my friend." Nuala sang, entertained by her attempt to gaze away.

“What are they celebrating?”

“We are celebrating Ayala.”

“Who is that?”

“A small goddess from The Forgotten,” Cerridwen answered appearing beside her holding a suspicious bottle of yellow liquid with a scorpion siting on the bottom.

“Why can’t you get us a normal drink?” her sister complained.

“There’s no fun in that.” Her attention returned to Elain. “Ayala is worshipped by the lesser fae as a river goddess, blesser of sailors, but also a patron of conception.”

“One of those things is not like the others,” Elain commented, interested in the story. “What sailing has to do with conception?” She took a bite of her meat, moaning. It was delicious.

“A Thousand of years ago Ayala fell in love with a fishermale, a simple lesser fae. She started to provide him with extraordinary skills. The fishermale, who had never caught a thing before, turned in to an amazing sailor and an even better fisher in the blink of an eye. He could fish anything, even creatures not native from our coast. He thought he had discovered magic.”

“The kind of magic only they High Fae possess,” Nuala took the lead. “His ego blown. He boasted everywhere he went, calling faes from the whole court to watch him. The tides were never violent if he was on the water. One day, a lord from another court took interest in him, setting the male to marry his daughter, thinking he would be able to bread the power into his family. When Ayala realized he married another, she cried for seven days and seven nights, stopping only because the full mon appeared. The goddess saw her reflection on the moon, and as revenge for the pain he had cause, she decided to give him pain. From that day on the seas turned so turbulent no fishermale was able to go inside, the city started to starve, and when the people begged for mercy, she sent a storm to destroy his village.”

Elain gasped in shock.

“The fishermale, who had been away for years, discovered what happened to his home and returned. There he kneeled in front of the sea, asked what he had to do to calm the waters that still ragged. Ayala appeared to him, said he should deliver his first born in her hands or else no one would ever know peace outside dry land. The problem was the male’s wife could not get pregnant. “Then bring me your wife.” The goddess demanded. When the wife got there, Ayala braided a crown with seaweed, told her to use it before laying with her husband.”

“Did she?” Elain asked curious. Her friend nodded.

“Ayla forbid them from leaving until they payed, so the fishermale built a cabin near the beach, and the goddess watched them live. The thing is, while watching the couple, the goddess fell in love with the female too. When the child was born, the female cried for mercy, and Ayala, now in love, let her keep the child, promising to bless him with protection from water creatures as long as they stayed in cabin. The couple stay, more people came, a village was born, then a city and Ayala never sent another deadly storm. Now they celebrate a festival in her name during the seventh full moon of the year, and lovers come from everywhere to be blessed by her, especially those who are trying for children.”

Elain was to immersed in the tale to stop the wraith from stealing food from her plate. She thought about how fickle the fae were. A jealous goddess tried to steal a child and now she was a symbol of fertility and bless to newborns. What a joke.

“Don’t make that face, you’ll like it. There’s food and dancing all night long, and when the couples feel her presence, they fuck on the spot, where everybody can witness their love being blessed."

Nuala wicked grin was erased by Cerridwen slap.

"Don't scare her."

"It's true!"

"We don't have to stay for the coupling ritual El, don't worry. We can just participate in the offering and drink our sorrows away."

That caught Elain’s attention again.

"What are you sorrowful about?" she asked curiously.

"Danna dumped her." Her sister meddled.

"No!" Elain cried.

“She didn’t dump me, we had a fight.”

Elain didn’t know exactly how the two lovers met, but she knew Cerridwen and Danna had an on and off relationship because the other was soldier from Day and Cerridwen may or may not have been responsible for her brother, a Third General in Command, being dismissed from the force. She hugged her friend. “Don’t worry Cece, you will work it out.”

“She will drink it out. Come on ladies, the night awaits.”

As the hours slipped past then, Elain relaxed more and more. The three of them happily shared a variety of roasted meat, bread, jam and fruit, laughing and clapping at the musician who found himself too inebriated to sing the right rhymes, slurring his lines and constantly slapping the tambourine player. Elain was relaxed, feeling looser from the alcohol, laughter coming in easier. She grabbed the glass beside Cerridwen, who tracked the movement without lifting her eyes from two females kissing.

“That’s mine.”

“Sharing is caring.”

She chugged the whole thing at once, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste. Mother above, why create a drink this bitter? She wondered. Elain liked red wine much better. Cerridwen filled the glass again, Elain politely refusing the offer to share.

“I want to dance!” Nuala screeched already pulling Elain to her feet.

The full moon illuminated the dancing bodies, the music evolving to a happy crescendo. They twisted and twirled to the rhythm, and for the first time in months Elain felt light. Happy. Her sandals were gone. She smiled and laughed, imitating goofy steps, her feet tangling on the complicated ones. Nuala tried to pull her skirt down to her waist, claiming “beauty should not be covered,” and Elain tried to give her a head lock, like Cassian so often did on every who stand near his big arms. The wraith turned to mist on the last second, Elain falling down as result. She laughed louder, sand clinging to her sweaty skin. That’s when she saw it. A glimpse in the woods. A pair of eyes.

Elain was back in woods. She had no memory of leaving her friends, leaving the beach, but as she looked around, she could not see or hear the festival. Her body move, feet dragging her to… Where? Where was she going? Her breath quickened, her heart speed up. She tried to stop, to turn back. It was no use. Elain walked until her apparent destination, casually kicking rocks along the way, black night-jasmine blooming around her feet. She stopped, crouched and waited. The wind hollowed, the air crackling with a tense energy, the metallic tang of old powerful magic in the tip of her tongue. A thunder split the sky in two. That’s when he appeared.

A fat white cat sauntered in her direction, the oddest pair of blue eyes fixed on her, the air sizzling in his awake. The weight of his presence pressed down on her, invisible nails scratching her skull from the inside, trying to dissect her. He felt like laughing at his cute attempt, pushing his presence away with the flick of a hand. Her eyes were no longer hers. They had turned white. Her lips where no longer hers. They began to move own their own.

"Hello," she greeted with a knowing smile. "I've been waiting for you."

The cat regarded her with the hostility of an enemy sizing his opponent, pacing from one side to the other, inpatient pawns scratching the earth leaving violent gashes.

"What is your name?" he meowed, striking blue eyes glinting with challenge, pristine white fur scintillating under the moonlight. “You won’t tell me…or you can’t?” she challenged back. “What’s the matter? The cat got your tongue?”

The cat hissed. Now she laughed at him. Although she should not meddle with the Present, the Seer often tip-toed the line of indiscipline, her competitive vein leading the peculiar creature to be prone to defiance. She gave Elain constant headaches. The Seer cleaned fake tears from her eyes.

"It doesn’t matter. You shouldn't be here, you know.” Not yet. “Go back."

Her relaxed demeaner disappeared with the order. She lifted her index –hand covered in a shimmering white aura, making it look like Elain was wearing tulle gloves –and touched the cat’s forehead, power sizzling from her to the animal who found himself sucked into a void. A flock of crows took flight into the night, the humming displaced energy being extinguished, the clogging presence gone. Crickets chirped unaware of what had just visited the forest.

Elain panted feeling exhausted, looking around, not understanding where she was. She blinked the fog away slowly, searching the beach where she had been seconds before, no sign of music or faes or bonfires.

What was she doing here?

Why was she alone?

“Why are you alone?”

Elain yelp covering her head as a reflex, her drumming pulse loud in her ears, making her slow to recognize the voice. The voice… She knew that voice. Elain peeked between her hands, Azriel’s strong body looming over her, enormous onyx wings raised and curved as a crescent moon, his shadow swallowing her shape completely. She breathed in relief, the rich and familiar scent of mist and cedar calming her anxiety.

“You scared me! Why do you move like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like, like,” she stammered trying to think of a word. “Like a wraith!”

Azriel chuckled.

“A wraith?”

“…lurking in the dark without making a noise,” she mumbled dusting of the sand from her arms, trying to fix the skirt which was now covered in natural whatnots, the hem splattered with mud. “Scaring the nightlights out of people…”

Elain stopped moving abruptly, freezing like a deer in the aim of a hunter.

Azriel was here!

Her belly was out, she was barefoot, she was dirty, sweaty, and mildly disorientated, and Azriel was here! She making a fool of herself in front of Azriel. Her eyes lifted quick as a lighting. A shivered ran down her arms when his glorious wings retracted, spreading to their full length before he tucked them tight behind his back. He was really here. No sign of his uniform tonight, no. Azriel was clad in black pants and a white shirt, the fabric strained over his chiseled body, delineating his muscles with the precision of a painting. She had never seen him wearing white before. The color fit him perfectly –not that Elain was a reliable judge, she thought he looked perfect in everything– the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows exposing a trail of tattoos she once dreamed of touching –with her lips– his hair perfectly combed back, not one curl out of place, the blue stones atop of his hand sitting there quietly.

Her heart drummed for a different reason now, loud as if it was trying to compete with the musicians down the beach. Thump, thump, thump.

Stop it! Stop that!

It didn’t. Elain sighed. She was done with her body not listening to her for the day.

“I can help you.”

“I can help her.” He said to her sisters in a lifetime ago.

She gave him an inquisitive look, watching him jerk his chin to her clothes, her hands still clenched to the dirty skirt. Azriel offered her a hand and Elain stared at it as if it was a mirage, one of her messy visions, except she couldn’t see the two of them. Only once she saw Azriel and herself, a moment of delightful pleasure where they shared a passionate kiss in the dead of the longest night of the year. A kiss that never came to happened. She swallowed nervously an accepted the offer, Azriel lifting her in a swift move, dropping her hand as quick as he took it.

Elain did not even had time to feel offended because shadows instantly surrounded her like bees coming to the hive.

“Mother’s tits,” Elain gasped in shock when the shadows woven themselves over her attire, the former white giving place to a deep black skirt. She ran a hand over it, the skirt smooth as a simple piece of fabric when in reality it was anything but. Elain laughed in delight, twirling to see if they would accompany the movement, feeling excited as a child watching a magic trick when they did.

“Thank you.” Azriel simple smiled, ducking his head. What do you say to the man who broke your heart? “Are you here for the celebration?” He nodded. Elain pushed a rebel curl behind her ear, a small pearl earring catching the moonlight. “Go on then.” She pointed to a vague direction waiting for him to start walking so she could follow, not wanting to say she had lost her way. His eyes dipped to her feet.

“Do you want me to fly you?”

“No.” She wheezed quickly. Gods, was she drunk? She couldn’t be drunk. Elain cleared her throat to sound normal. “No, thank you. I can walk.”

She pointed again, Azriel walking on the opposite direction. She followed. While trailing behind, Elain watched his boots, impressed that he was just as silent in the wild as he was on top of a carpet. She stepped on a pointy rock and winced, Azriel stopping abruptly.

“Let me fly you.” He requested with a worried tone. She twisted her hands nervously. No way she was flying with him. No way. That would be too much of him touching too much of her. “You wandered quite far.” He gave her a look she could not identify. “Outside the city.”

Elain looked around again, not recognizing a thing. There were no colorful fireflies in this part of the woods. She didn’t even know where she was, let alone how to get back to her friends or Velaris.

“Can’t we shadow-walk?” she asked, hopeful.

“We can.”

Again, Azriel offered Elain a hand.

And this time when she took it, he promptly intertwined his fingers with hers. His eyes burning with a longing so intense one would think she was the one who left him behind, not the opposite. His thumb slide against her skin once, a gesture he used to do so often her body ached with the familiarity of him. Hazel and brown were still lost on each other when they disappeared in shadows.

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