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orcinusorca1617 · 5 years ago

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Favorite Star Wars Fics

REBELCAPTAIN

Floating, Sinking shuofthewind

Somewhere in her is the sinking feeling that they weren't supposed to survive.

[In which they all live, in a manner of speaking, and they keep going, in spite of the odds.]

[Post-Rogue One. Runs through A New Hope. Eventual Rebelcaptain.]

whetstone shuofthewind

They're finished with their first mission. Now it's just the matter of downtime.

[Part of the floating, sinking universe. Mostly just fluff.]

Restless jenniferjun1per

Jyn needs to sleep, but she can't seem to get comfortable.

You Still Are leralynne

The scar zigzags down her side, puckered white along the ridges of her ribs. Cassian’s fingers still the first time they brush over it. With her head on his chest, she can feel his intake of breath.

A Long Pause leralynne

“Be quiet!” Jyn hisses. “I hear something!” Cassian stills. And then slowly, very slowly, he lifts his lips from Jyn’s collarbone.

slowly, and then all at once caramelle

It's probably sheer stubbornness, Cassian thinks wryly.

Even so, it doesn't mean he's just going to leave her like that.

Or, the one where Jyn has a habit of falling asleep around the apartment, and Cassian develops a habit of carrying her back to bed, because he's a Gentleman, and a Good Friend.

There For You guineapiggie

They reach Yavin IV and Jyn has every intention to lock herself in the room they've given her and not come out ever again. However, someone strongly disagrees with that plan.

flight lessons ignitesthestars

“One hundred percent of the crashes I have experienced involved you, Jyn Erso.” K2 informs her pleasantly. “Given that no other flight experience I've been involved in has experienced an abrupt descent, I can only conclude that you - oh. You're bleeding.

Or, Jyn is slightly impaled and Cassian sees to her wound. Emotions are had.

Won't You Let Us Wander (series) angel_deux

Cassian came back for her. Again and again. After Scarif, that complicates things for Jyn, who's used to running | 13 part series.

Cuddling for Warmth leralynne

“Jyn is shivering,” K2 observes, with the kind of bland indifference only possible when one is a droid incapable of experiencing just how goddamn freezing this planet is.

Bloody Little Worms Kobo

Jyn Erso is accustomed to being jolted awake. Saw Gerrera shaking her awake at every hour of the night, keeping her on her toes; the rough shift from hyperspace to realspace rattling the frame of a ship; Imperial guards smacking their batons against iron bars; nightmares, images of her father’s last breath or the echoing smack of Cassian’s back against steel bars: Jyn is accustomed to those.

A white hot grip on her lungs? This marks the first time she’s awoken to that.

Closer muggleindenial28

"They don’t speak on the way down.

They don’t acknowledge the distant shrill screams of TIE Fighters and X-Wings outside.

They don’t think about how they’re not going to get out in time."

They make it off Scarif, but not without scars.

like real people do mollivanders

“I have an idea,” she says, mind whirling as she steps towards the room. “We need a reason to be here like this.” He follows close behind her and she can practically feel the tension washing over him. In contrast, the plan forming in her mind has provided her with a calm clarity. He closes the door behind them before she props it ajar/

They need to be caught.

Beach House lyresandlasers

“Never say I don’t support you,” Jyn lifted his head into her lap, cradled in crossed legs.

cover me, i'll cover you mollivanders

“Are you hurt?” he asks blindly, reaching for her only to snatch his fingers back as she lurches away. He forgets she’s like a feral animal when she’s injured, used to being the only person having her back. “Let me see,” he says, trying to force authority and calm into his voice, both to reassure her and take control of the situation.

Inside, he’s anything but.

I hear the revolution rebsrising

The babble sounds through the baby monitor, soft and quiet, but enough to wake two well-trained soldiers still adjusting to the safety of peace.

Bodhi's Perspective rebsrising

It’s a simple scene - and that’s what strikes Bodhi the most. They kiss like they’re going to do it everyday for the rest of their lives. And he hopes, not for the first time, that they have the chance.

We Can Turn Over and Start Again kyrdwyn

After Scarif, Jyn starts over, with a new mission, and an unexpected friend.

Fifteen Days clashofqueens

It's hard to hold on to a happy ending during a war, and in the final days of the Rebellion, Jyn might lose hers.

Lay Down My Shields katsumi

Jyn comes down with a strange reaction to a foreign plant, but it doesn't seem like a big enough deal to bother anyone with. That is, until she faints in the middle of the hallway.

Run to Me in the Rising Dawn katsumi

Jyn has never had anyone stick around before. The battle is over now, but the war rages on and Jyn is already preparing for the day when she loses Cassian, too. (She doesn't realize he's terrified of the exact same thing.)

the quiet we hold ithacas

After Scarif, Cassian wakes up broken. He and Jyn learn to fix each other.

We Should laurie2000ann

Jyn could have died trying to save Cassian and he’s pretty angry about it.

Let's Give 'Em Something to Talk About astoriamalfoys

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks her, a wry smile twisting his lips. Jyn ducks her head. “Nightmares or the medicine?”

It’s meant to be an easy conversation, but she says, “I was worried about you,” and his heart stutters to a staccato instead.

Han x Leia captainkitten

Important Thing of Awesomeness™ meets Dumpster Fire of a Human Being™

REYLO

we could plant a house, we could build a tree Like_A_Dove

Ben takes a deep breath. “It’s—it’s a project. Conceptual art. You wouldn’t get it.”

Rey presses her lips together to keep from laughing. She plans her next words quickly and carefully, determining what will get her the best reaction. “Really? Looks like you ruined a bedsheet to me.”

His reaction does not disappoint. “Get out.”

Parenthood (series) pontmercy44

What to expect when you're expecting the child of a rich, womanizing, alcoholic, unredeemable asshole? And what to do when the unexpected, improbable, irrational happens?

What She's Worth g_girl143

After being sent to train under his uncle in the Jedi academy, Ben Solo meets a youngling girl who would change the course of his life. An alternative universe companion fic for Claudia Gray's "Bloodline" novel. A scenario in which Ben Solo and Rey are fellow students of Luke's Jedi Academy and the events that led to the birth of Kylo Ren.

A Proposal by Any Other Name LucidLucy

Rey and Finn have been A Thing for a long time now. Since she was eighteen, to be exact. When Finn leaves on a trip to Europe for six months for work, Rey finally chases after him to Dublin to do what he seems to be putting off: propose. | Leap Year AU

If You Trust What's in Your Heart (What Better Can You Do) TheJGatsby

After the war, Rey likes to savor the peace on her own sometimes. Then she's not alone anymore.

Black Gloves, Orange Soup Solia

While the dwindling Rebellion starves, awaiting their chance to attack a First Order supply vessel, Rey is trying to keep busy repairing the lightsaber. As luck would have it, her Force-bonded rival Kylo Ren is knowledgeable on the subject and keen to help, but he is also very... distracting.

A Good Fall ohwise1ne

Ben Solo refuses to take a stunt double and pays the price when he breaks his leg filming his latest action blockbuster. His new physical therapist, Rey Sanders, seems to be the only person in Hollywood who doesn’t recognize the infamous Kylo Ren – and for some reason, he finds himself fighting to keep it that way.

A Royal Mistake reyofdarkness

Ben Solo (aka The Playboy Prince): Prince of Alderaan and tabloid sensation, never seen with the same girl twice.

Rey: Mechanic, blissfully unaware of Ben Solo's very existence.

Until Paige recruits her for a night servicing the Met Gala, host to a diverse class of guests, including royalty. It is there that a chance encounter gets Rey caught up in a pair of pretty eyes and a charming personality that she knows she should stay far, far away from. The universe, however, seems to have other plans. Hot Tip: Don’t look up your crush’s sex tape.

The End of a String Silvershine

A bridge still exists between the Supreme Leader of the First Order and the rebel known as Rey. As the connection winds tighter, the line between enemy and friend continues to blur, and Rey's loyalties are called into question. A force bond can bring companionship and support, but it's not without its dangers... or delights.

No Ill Will Castiloar

His face set into a resigned expression before tapping his phone with a final flourish, sending whatever excuse he made. She almost jumped when he squarely met her gaze. “Me? Your hostage? I’d almost think you like having me here.” Even with the congestion he managed to drop his voice low enough to make the quip weigh heavy.

variations on a theme of you disasterisms

"Who knows?" Luke darted a faint smile at Ben and Rey as they stewed in silence and disbelief. "The two of you might even learn to get along. Right, Leia?"

"Like a house on fire," the General deadpanned. "Complete with screams, flames, and people running for safety."

"Indeed." Luke's blue eyes twinkled. "There may be no survivors."

As Hard As I Try... KKetura

When her friends find out about her force bond with Kylo Ren, Rey finds herself more alone than ever. But in her forced solitude, she slowly discovers a better understanding of herself and the man to whom she's inextricably linked.

lying restless (as the dawn comes near) TheJGatsby

They have a tradition for nightmares.

you gotta stop doing that semi-hiatus

She caught herself right before the words ‘you gotta stop doing that’ slipped from her lips, saving her from having the explain why she randomly started talking to herself in the hallway.

Why Her? Aramenialys

Just one last battle. One. Then they can be done and put everything behind them. That was the plan. Then it's smashed to bits, and Kylo has to figure out how to come back from tragedy and form a new one. A short drabble/oneshot about Rey dying and (redeemed) Kylo learning to cope.

Quiet issueswithjedipedagogy

He wasn’t sleeping. She had caught sight of him in the darkness, blinking awake to the strange vacuum the bond created around her; the quiet focus on two souls that seemed to make everything else fall away.

Soft Things catmusing

Kylo Ren wakes up aboard a familiar and yet unknown ship. His body aches and it hurts to remember but there is Rey of light.

Aphelion ambiguously

Stranded on a barren planet together, Rey and Kylo Ren have only each other to help them survive.

Vulnerability and Soft Hair smallenoughtofit

After two years with the Resistance, Kylo Ren still lacks any real security or relationships outside of his tenuous whatever-this-is with Rey. And Rey still wonders what his hair feels like.

the remedy is the experience (i won't worry my life away) TheJGatsby

Rey gets sick, and she isn't very good at letting people look after her.

Proper Sleep tearoomsaloon

Much to her frustration, Rey can no longer properly sleep unless she's snuggled between Ben's glorious pecs

ad infinitum hyperphonic

for the prompt: Rey and Kylo telling Leia, Rey is pregnant. Leia had no clue.

any way you want it thegoodlannister

rey helps ben begin to work through the process of making decisions - even really simple ones - for himself. rehabilitation is a slow process in the aftermath of the mess snoke has spent three decades making of ben's mind.

It Will Come Back ReyloTrashCompactor

“Honey, don’t feed it. It will come back”

A Series of Firsts Tandy

Ben (or is it Ren?) and Rey sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love and then comes marriage, then comes baby in a baby carriage.

A story told in firsts.

Dark Prism whythokylo (OpalElephant)

Rey awakens again, except this time it's to a life she can't recall with a man she only knows as her enemy. My attempt at a long form, dark AU. (Formerly titled Aphelion)

A Few Small Repairs TourmalineGreen

Rey buried her face in her blankets. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t going to allow herself to feel anything. Rain was just water, and so were tears. It would all dry, in time. The storm would pass, and then she’d keep going. That’s how it always had been, and that’s how it was going to be.

She would be alright, after this. She would find a way, find something…

what ails you thegoodlannister

or: three times ben solo was sick and one time kylo ren was. unabashed reylo and even more unabashed hurt/comfort.

100 Ways to Say I Love You AquaWolfGirl

Taken from a list on Tumblr of 100 Ways To Say I Love You, 100 little oneshots leading up to Valentine's Day.

I'm always in this twilight (in the shadow of your heart) disasterisms

Coded on a secondhand datapad in a run-down motel room in Mos Eisley, deleted and never sent: Everything about us was a whirlwind.

Written on a scrap of durasheet in a Tion Cluster outpost, the words fading after a while into air and ghosts: You shouldn't have forgiven me for any of it.

Scraped into the bark of an oak tree on the Argazdan homeworld: You won't believe the dreams I have about you.

the one with the lust writing-reylo

She has bigger things to worry about than that.

The most pressing of which is reclining in her bed, shirtless.

“Can you move?” She asks, unwinding her scarf and shrugging off her huge jacket.

Milking It thewayofthetrashcompactor

“Rey.”

The voice was deep and familiar, rough with exhaustion, and echoed across the gap closed by the Force.

She ignored it, hunched over on the edge of the cot she'd been sleeping on. She wanted nothing more than to lean back and curl up into an unconscious ball again, but another voice, this one much closer, called her name again.

morning in the burned house disasterisms

Leia's not really surprised at all, to be honest, but, for the sake of his pride, she should probably pretend to be.

find a thread to pull, and we can watch it unravel again_please

The war is over, Snoke dead at Rey and Kylo's hands. The two of them find themselves feeling a bit out of place as the Resistance celebrates and decide that the answer is a bit of good old fashioned Corellian whiskey. Enjoyed responsibly, of course. And in private.

Because You're There disasterisms

Three years ago, Rey had not yet climbed Everest.

Presenting the first half of my fic/art trade with the lovely lilithsaur, based on her trash triplets x 2 universe. The gist is that there are three Solo boys— Kylo, Ben, and Matt (the character from Adam Driver's SNL skit)— and three Kenobi girls— Kira (dark Rey), Rey, and Daisy (undercover Rey).

Sword of the Jedi (series) diasterisms

“What do you think?” Luke asks his nephew. “She has potential.”

“She bit me, Master,” is Ben’s stiff response. “Any opinion I give would be biased.”

Or: Everyone is connected, even if, sometimes, it's just by the skin of our teeth. Even in the midst of darkness, still, luminous beings are we.

Reign OptimisticBeth

Alternate Ending to "The Last Jedi." Rey accepts Kylo Ren’s offer in return for the lives of the retreating ships.

Political maneuvering is not Rey's forte. She must adjust to life as the First Order's first lady, making friends and enemies along the way and indulging in sweet awkward romance with her Ben.

Burgeoning Hope crossingwinter

#ShesPregnantAndHesDumbAndHasntLeftHisJobYet

miles from where you are mooncactus

After an argument over Star Wars fandom with a "gatekeeping, entitled monster" with the cryptic username of KyloRen, Rey finds herself stuck in a series of unavoidable video calls.

Prisoner orphan_account

Rey has been running all her life. She had known since she was a small girl that she was born with the powers that had been cursed and labeled evil by the galaxy. Running had worked for so long, that she was almost surprised when the bounty hunter Kylo Ren had caught her trail. But they might have more in common than they both originally thought.

Hand of Fate sweetestcondition

Rey is offered a choice at the end of Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi. This time, she takes the hand of Kylo Ren, grasping at the chance to transform the First Order from the inside. She hopes to create a Resistance from within, starting with the heart of Ben Solo. | feat. KoR, Kezzik

keep me in your clouded mind hi_raeth

Flu season has claimed its latest victim: Rey’s roommate, Ben Solo. But it’s fine. She’ll get him dressed, bring him to the hospital, and everything will be okay. Things are totally under control.

Except for the part where Ben has completely lost his verbal filter and keeps babbling about his feelings for her.

Exile Ernzo

The war is over and the First Order has fallen. Ben has returned home to face his consequences.

A story of Rey and Ben finding peace in the aftermath of war as Ben accepts his punishment.

made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter disasterisms

The First Order does not exist, what is dead stays dead, and they grow up together at Luke's Jedi Academy.

Or: The one where everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.

(Then again, it's Ben and Rey, so maybe things hurt a little.)

A little ginger, a little honey Areah51

Rey is sick, and Ben shows up where he's not wanted, but in the end, we all need someone to take care of us when we're ill.

my wildest wind (come blow into my room) meritmut

“Would it have been so terrible?” he asks. “Staying?”

Could we have had this? she thinks, like she always does.

Non-consecutive ForceTime vignettes in the days, weeks and months after Crait.

Play to Win Enterprisingly

Ben Solo – aka KyloRen – is a professional gamer, playing the first-person-shooter StarKiller for the internationally ranked eSports team, The First Order. He’s made a name for himself as a ruthless competitor with a ferocious temper and top-notch skills that can’t be beat. That is, until a mystery player named ReyOfLight begins thoroughly trouncing him whenever they cross paths.

Unwell AquaWolfGirl

Jakku was cold, but nothing compared to Hoth. While staying at the old Rebel base, Rey catches a cold, and someone is a huge worry wart over the woman who denied his offer.

The One Where He Decides writing_reylo

He’s on the bridge and he’s alone.

The First Order are no more.

It only took him a year, carefully manipulating every weak mind he came across, emotionally manipulating the ones he couldn’t.

Embers sciosophia

All the myriad things he’d been—someone who made her laugh; the warmth on the other side of the bed; her best friend—those things, Rey had buried.

Rey left Ben two years, three months, and sixteen days ago. But who's counting?

Interstellar Transmissions LovelyThings, ricca_riot

Rey’s interrogation at the hands of Kylo Ren triggered an awakening in the Force, as well as an unwelcome bond that links them across the galaxy and grows stronger every day.

What Stays and What Fades Away astra_inclinant

Her feelings for Kylo Ren are quiet, not acknowledged, but deeply felt. She cannot make peace with them and send them from her mind.

Or, everyone is emotionally stunted and no one has healthy coping skills.

Our Heaven is Just Waiting FrostedFox

It's his turn to fall wounded before her, and her turn to decide where to go from there.

If only she could convince him to stay alive.

make it look just the way i planned TheJGatsby

Ben buys the painting on a brokenhearted impulse, and somehow it ends up being exactly the right choice.

(Based on the song Paint Me a Birmingham)

#reylo #rebelcaptain #star wars #sw tfa #sw tlj #kylo x rey #ben solo #cassian x jyn #rogue one

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zacharybosch · 5 years ago

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Playing Dead - chapter 2

featuring the first of some new illustrations by the incomparable @theseavoices!

chapter 1: tumblr / ao3

read chapter 2 of Playing Dead below or on ao3!

The Florentine house was, like Hannibal’s property in Baltimore, extravagant. But unlike Baltimore, this house was decorated far more warmly; where Baltimore had felt like a museum, chamber after echoing chamber filled with so many terrible and untouchable things, Florence was like a private club for the museum’s esteemed patrons. The hallways were lined with wood panelling in a thousand subtle shades and hues. The furniture in the sitting room was bespoke, hand-crafted by a family of local artisans who had been building furniture in the city for centuries. The blankets on the beds were all antique textiles, carefully and lovingly restored. The kitchen was Tuscan marble the colour of warm sand, grand and beautiful and covered in dust.

The bathroom was a different matter. It had been exquisite when they first arrived, with elegant frescoes on the walls, floor tiles coloured like the deep ocean, and a huge, shiny copper bathtub taking pride of place in the centre. Now the room was a cacophony of mirrors, hung on every empty patch of wall and propped up in every available corner. Some of them were modern and reflected Will’s image; most of them were far older, and showed only Hannibal’s scowling face.

The floor was dull and splattered with bloodstains. Will had placed towels on the floor to keep the worst of it off, but the attempt was half-hearted at best and if he knew where the mop was, he didn’t care enough to ever fetch it.

The tub was no longer shiny. Will had given up trying to keep it clean when his attempts to turn Hannibal kept on failing. Now the rim of the tub was turning black with the build-up of dried blood and other bodily fluids.

Hannibal was desperate to clean it. Will could see the twitch of his fingers, the grimace every time Hannibal lowered himself gingerly into the tub, but he was too weak to do much beyond lie on the sofa and complain about it. Vigorous cleaning was certainly outside the realm of Hannibal’s current capabilities.

Will had been sparing at first in his attempts to turn Hannibal, but Hannibal’s insistence that they try and try again, and Will’s apparent inability to say no, had got them to the point where Will was making the attempt nearly every week. The toll on Hannibal’s body was enormous, and the IV drip snaking out of his arm had become a near-permanent feature.

The last attempt had been mere days ago, but instead of packing up their things and preparing to leave for the next multimillion dollar bolthole like Will knew they should, they were in the bathroom and attempting the change again.

“I’m still angry that you opened the window,” Will said, trying to disconnect Hannibal from his IV drip. “I told you so many times not to do it. All it takes is one person to glance up from the street and see your face. We can’t risk it.”

“You have me locked up here like a prisoner. This is not at all what I imagined our future together would hold.” Hannibal batted Will’s hand away and disconnected the IV tube from his cannula himself. “I think I can be forgiven for wanting a little fresh air.”

“You get fresh air every damn night when I take you out into the courtyard. Don’t pretend that this was anything other than you trying to pick a fight.”

“Did it succeed, at least?”

Will closed his eyes and silently prayed for strength. “No. This isn’t a fight.”

“A shame. Maybe you should rip my ear off again.”

The ear was Hannibal’s favourite fallback. No matter that Will had done it just to provide some evidence that Hannibal was dead, no matter that Will had immediately applied his healing blood to the wound to help a new ear grow in its place, no matter that Will had done it all solely to smooth the way for their escape; as far as Hannibal was concerned, it was just another scab to pick at. But all Will said was, “Get in the bath.”

Hannibal eased himself in slowly, crusts of dry blood flaking away from the sides of the tub as he settled and adjusted himself. He hadn’t removed any of his clothes, and it just made him look all the more frail, veins standing out in stark relief against the soft drape of his shirtsleeves.

“Remind me again why we’re doing it this way,” Hannibal said, in a tone of voice that suggested the last thing he wanted was to be reminded of why they were doing it this way.

“Because,” Will grunted, fiddling around with sticky tape and plastic tubing, “we’ve tried the old-fashioned way and it didn’t take.”

“This approach hasn’t exactly been taking either, Will. The old-fashioned way was far more stimulating.”

“And it also has an incredibly high rate of failure. This way is easier to control, more precise. Do you want the change or not?”

“You know that I do.”

“Then stop nitpicking.” Will connected the new tube to Hannibal’s cannula. The needle had been inserted in the same spot where he’d bitten Hannibal that first time, back in Baltimore. He could see the marks, the shiny, pink little punctures where his teeth had sunk in so easily. Already half-healed by the time Will had hauled Hannibal over the butcher block and poured his regenerative blood down Hannibal’s throat, they were scars that would never fully fade.

Will felt an absurd stab of sentimentality, and swiftly brushed it aside. “Okay. Where do you want to bleed from today?”

“Surprise me.”

Will took a knife from his box of supplies, a mean little thing with a smooth wooden handle and a wickedly sharp blade, and stuck it deep into Hannibal’s thigh.

Hannibal didn’t flinch, just closed his eyes briefly and worked his jaw. “The femoral artery, again. That’s not very surprising, Will.��

“I swear to God, Hannibal, I will walk out of this house right now and never come back.”

“Then walk,” Hannibal challenged, and Will slammed his fist into the side of the tub in frustration. For a long moment they just stared at each other, both on the brink of doing something stupid.

Eventually, Will silently picked up and inserted his own cannula, connecting himself to Hannibal via two metres of sterile plastic tubing. He watched his blood wind its way through the tube until it got to Hannibal’s end. Then he yanked the knife out of Hannibal’s thigh.

The rush of blood was sudden and powerful, and Hannibal’s trousers and Will’s hand quickly became soaked. Will perched on the edge of the tub and slowly licked the blood from his fingers while Hannibal’s body spasmed and eventually stilled. Every time they did this, Hannibal passed out from the blood loss a little quicker. If Will couldn’t get the change to happen soon, he’d have to consider holding off entirely for months, maybe even a year, to let Hannibal come back to his full health. It would not be a pleasant time for either of them.

But Will knew that Hannibal would demand they try again as soon as he awoke from this current attempt, just as he would demand after the next failed attempt, and the next, and the next.

The longer they remained like this, with Hannibal suspended in a bloody half-life, coming back from the brink over and over, the more reluctant Will became to see the thing done. Over the preceding months Hannibal had grown difficult to deal with, borderline petulant. Will didn’t want to be stuck in the mire of yet another petty argument, only for that to be the time that the change finally took hold, and then Hannibal would be frozen forever with a sneer on his lips and a chip in his heart.

Will wanted… He didn’t know what he wanted. The old Hannibal, maybe, whoever that was. The Hannibal he had known in Baltimore, after the revelation but before the blood and the escape to Europe, when they would just sit and talk and exist together. Before Will had recklessly dangled the promise of eternal life, and Hannibal had grasped at it viciously and refused to let go.

Perhaps the new Hannibal, if Will could just make the damn change stick, if he could bear to open himself up like he knew he should, instead of meeting every one of Hannibal’s jabs with another brick in the wall between them.

After every attempt, when Hannibal had been drained and filled with Will’s blood and left to stew overnight, there would be a brief moment, just a small handful of seconds, where Hannibal awoke and he was thrumming with power, radiant and vital as a king. Those moments were what kept Will trying again and again, the tiny glimpses of Hannibal elevated to a level beyond what he had ever achieved in his human life.

But it always ended up a false hope, Hannibal’s awakenings being nothing more than the defibrillator effect of Will’s blood as it shocked him back into life and then faded into nothing. The small chance that it wouldn’t fade, that Hannibal would awake strong and full of new vampiric life and then stay that way, seemed to become more impossible to grasp the harder they reached for it.

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #vampire au #my fic

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the-house-of-the-nine · 6 years ago

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In Depths Below: Epilogue, Part 5

Later that evening....

[ L.K ] It would be a rough start to the night. Lazarius had accompanied Jursol back to her hut and patched the broken areas just before the storm let loose. And what a storm it was. No doubt those Tide Sages of Kul Tiras were at it again. But the rumbles of thunder and lightening crashing all around, as well as the torrential downpour, it bound them inside.

Lazarius had stripped down to his shorts in the swampy jungle heat once more. The glistening of his brandings, tattoos and scars evident in the light of what few candles there were to give them a way to see. He sat on the edge of the cot she had given him to rest on earlier, and in his silence, his extended palm in front of him would flicker with small galactic wormholes that would pop into existence and fade. A black purple flame swirling around him. He was simply toying with his magic.

“We once worshipped N’Zoth, the old god of the deep. My former Mistress was the leader of our cult of The Nine. In fact, Nine member all of which lead the rest of the order to its victory and inevitably its defeat. Decades passed... I have been leading us since the times of this great Third War of the mortal races. I know your people have never been too keen on involvement but that is how long.”

He closed his hand around the flame and sighed.

[ J ] Once back at the hut, Jursol found a few things to patch the hole on the wall up with. With a smile she handled them to the elf. As she watch how surprisingly good he was at patching up such holes, a small laugh escaped her. She knew like him this was no normal storm coming. Those damn Tide Sages had it out for these lands.

[ L.K ] “In recent months we have shifted further and further away. I took it upon myself to take inventory of what it is we truly do. What we stand for. And it is chaos, but it is more than that. We are saviors of some of the most brilliant and talented minds the world has ever seen. People who would otherwise be killed for their work, or worse imprisonment. We provide a home for like minded individuals who are through fighting others wars and wish to thrive on our own. A nation away from the political nightmare and a place that offers salvation to all who swear loyalty to the cause.”.

In his hand she would see the construct of a void magic made machine. He created it from the shadow to give her a visual representation of it.

“The Void Forge is our greatest achievement. Made from Titan technology, Mogu and ancient earthen wares. It was reversed engineered to take life, not create. Essentially what it does it extracts the void magic from the Ren’dorei. The void elves. It stores it in batteries for us to use.”.

The image would rotate and turn for her to see all the massive gears and devices.

[ J ] Zandalari after all had a great naval force that could rival their own. Due to the ongoing war however, Jursol feared this was perhaps their way of hiding ships sent to scout areas ahead of the coming battle. As she listened her eyes wondered to his hands. She was still mesmerized by the beautiful galactic wormholes he was making.

[ L.K ] “The body is then stripped of its blood which is placed in a dedicated vessel for our blood mages to experiment on. And lastly, the organic husk is used as the fuel source. Perpetually it will run for as long as we provide it with its source of fuel, Ren’dorei.”

He collapsed the construct and peered over toward her, wherever she was at this point.

“We are bad people Jursol, I know this. But we are also true, pure and devoted to one another. Love and compassion are not lost on us. We do this because when the dam breaks, and the old one returns, lives will be lost. Chaos and the Black empire will return, I have seen this. These stores batteries will be enough to provide us with a shield that will allow the world to bypass us safely in the Bastille for generations to come.”

He looked toward her still and smiled.

[ J ] As he spoke of his people, The Nine, and the old one N’Zoth she listened intently to every word. Like many Zandalari she knew the threat of Old Gods was real. They were coming back and soon. Hell there was already the created Old One who posed a threat, Ghuun. While he may be defeated easier then most he was still a threat to all life. Jursol recalled a old Seer speaking of the coming storm. A storm of blood, death, dark magic not seen in years. An evil that once thought dormant was said to be returning.

‘Could dis be N’Zoth then?’ she thought.

The more he spoke of how his people, and their home far from the political nightmare that most live in, the more she realized how truly misunderstood he was. Him and his people may have a strange way of doing things, but their goal is far from evil. She could hardly believe the structure of the Void Forge was real. The way it worked, how it was made, everything about it peaked her curiosity.

[ L.K ] “I could not ask for a better person, you...you Miss Jursol, to be there with me, at my side. I would ask you for it is the respected position that you deserve.”.

She watched as he offered his scarred and worn hand toward her, the image of a serpent burned into the palm.

“Join us. You with your Magic’s..you are the prime candidate to offer us a perspective we have never seen. I see in you...a person worthy of a place where she can flourish...”

[ J ] She only had to think for a moment after he’d stopped speaking. He bright eyes looking toward him over the glare of the fire.

“You not be bad people my friend. Many forget der be times we must be doen thins we never thought we would in order to save ourselves or others Sometimes it be taken being da bad guy to get da job done.”

She said smiling looking at him.

“Da future of yo people means a lot to ya. Der be nothing wrong with dat in my eyes.”

As his hand was reached out towards her with an offer to go with him, she bowed her head and met his hand with her own clawed and scaled hand.

“I be happy ta be joinen ya Da raptors be happy as well. Dey seem to trust ya as I do.”

As she said this big raptors gave a small grunt sound in agreement. The smaller one leaping up next to the elf and laying down.

“A place to be using me magic in peace will be a nice change. Perhaps be learnen more about da blood magic I began studying before.”

[ L.K ] Lazarius would listen to her as she explained and answered each of his various questions and requests. Listened to her explain her side of things. It was quite obvious he knew she was exactly the type of person who could work with the order.

“A place for you to work your blood magic and perfect it. Our former Grand Magus. . . .”

There was that pause again when he regarded her. A hint of sadness in his eyes, but he would clear it away shortly after and continue on.

“ She has written two books on the subject, her parents before her were members of the council of Nine and served my former mistress. They’d written four. Also with the raw essence being reduced down from the forge you can perhaps practice hands on with it. I am sure a Zandalari brain can think of far more interesting ways to use the blood than we elves.”

The compliment was left there, hanging in limbo for a moment as he pondered.

“Blood Huntress Jursol.”. He said with a chuckle.

“Our last Magus took my hospitality and generosity and is currently beginning work on how to utilize this blood. If possible I’d like to put you in charge of how we research the blood within The Bastille. Perhaps you and our resident scientist Doctor Whistletorque can find a way to use the Azerite with it.”

[ J ] Jursol moved around the hut as she listened to him. Grabbing some things to make something for them to eat. Herbs, spices, dried meat, and fresh looking fish. Using a very small fireplace she worked to mix the ingredients together just so. Her clawed hands seemed skilled as she gut, deboned, and flayed the fish.

Chopping the herbs with a large knife as she placed them into a bowl. Chucks of dried beef were tossed into a pot of boiling water. A small dash of spices were added as well. Grabbing the chopped herbs she added a bit of oil to them. In another bowl she worked to crush the herbs, turning it into a paste.

The paste was rubbed over the fish before she laced it onto a rack over the fire. Some vegetable type things got added to the stew of beef and spices.

“A place to be practicing in peace be something I be happy to have again. Ta learn more den I know would be a great gift to my allies. A curse to mah enemies.”

Her face seemed calm her pleased.

“So ya be having a scientist der? Dat would make finden new ways ta use blood magic much more fun, and if he be able to use Azarite as well, dat be amazing.”

A smirk grow on her lips as she laughed.

“Well I be not letting ya down. Dis magic be something I take pride in, even if he hated by many.”

As she spoke she kept up with the food. It now smelled like herbs and spices in the little hut. Her hands stirring the stew as she watched the fish.

[ L.K ] “Well then on behalf of the Council of Nine. . I officially welcome you into our order. I know that it is not the Grand flare and show of excitement one such as yourself should warrant but...”.

The irony was not lost due to the fact that he was but one of the council, and the rest were not in attendance. He extended a finger toward the air and from it a little violet spark shot up and burst into a small firework. The explosion would for a serpent as it slithered around in a circular shape and then into a knot before vanishing.

[ J ] Jursol gave a fanged smile as she watched the serpent slither around in a circle, then a knot, all before vanishing. It seemed to entertain her to see his use of his skills.

[ L.K ] “Ive been giving it some thought. And I think I know how we can get back to the Bastille. But now comes the true test of our survival. Getting us to the Eastern Kingdoms. If we didn’t have to worry about the war I could arrange passage from Kul Tiras if we could get there. But that is out. But I need to reach Alterac. If we can get there... the former Magus I spoke of who should still be there. . .”.

He sneered and shook his head.

“I installed a gateway through her lower sub basement into the Bastille. It will place us directly where we need to be. At that point I can sever her portal thus finally putting an end to that link, and reach my sisters hopefully before something terrible happens.”.

Lazarius would give only a glance toward her meal, granted he didn’t choose to eat anymore because of the parasite but he could still appreciate her talent.

“Are you up for the task Miss Jursol? Any ideas on how we can escape this island?”

[ J ] Hearing him speak about the order, and about getting back to them, she started thinking. She knew of the Eastern Kingdoms, and heard about the Alterac. However she never ventured there herself. Pondering for a few minutes before speaking.

“Hmm, I be knowing one way ya travel der. Dey be smugglers doe. We be needen ta get off Zandalar before dey can help. But if we be getting away from Zandalar dey can help get us ta Alterac, or close at least. Ta get off Zandalar we be needed a boat. Dat be easy, if not for da war. Mah people don take kindly ta outsiders. We be needen ta get past dem somehow.”

[ L.K ] “That is good for us then. Unfortunately the Horde had not actually made contact with your people before this all began. I never gave the order to send my own operatives into Zandalar. But hindsight is of course twenty - twenty.”

Lazarius would think for a moment. His eyes drifted toward his hands. The edges of his fingers slightly starting to blacked right at the tips. Alarming but not enough to warrant attention.

“What if....”.

He slowly smirked and shifted on the bed while sitting on its edge. His pale flesh glistening in the hot jungle night; the humidity was overwhelming and the rain outside on made it worse.

“You take the guise of a guard. One of the elite kings men. Since I can easily pass for a Ren’dorei, you could be doing a prisoner transfer. Say you’re taking me for a parlay with the Alliance, trading one of theirs for one of “ours”. We get our boat and sail to where these smugglers are, they’ll never see us again.”

[ J ] A grin crossed her lips as she gave the stew a last stir. Scooping some into wood bowl before grabbing a wooden spin.

“Dat may actually work. Ta get a guard be easy enough. Get one ta chase ya ta me, and I can use a dart with poison on dem. Can’t be having blood on da armor.”

Jursol took a bite of the stew before speaking again.

“Da dart be covered in jungle frog poison. Works fast and silently. Most be to busy ta question a prisoner trade. One of da Zandalari priest been missing for some time now. If dey ask I can be saying we be trading for her.”

Jursol laughed as she said that last part.

“Don’t worry she not be comon back. Saw her body being eaten by a few stray raptors. Some small men be killing her. Dey were near some strange looking metal things.”

She nodded and smiled, a tusked toothy smile.

“Yes dis may work for us.”

[ L.K ] He nodded right back, and gazed at the warrioress with a matching grin.

“Yes...dis may work for us.”

To be Continued in. . . “In Depths Below: Epilogue, Part 6″

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soft-butch-cassidy · 6 years ago

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so its been a few hours since that.... happened

and ive had thoughts. talked about it. cried about it. looked at other perspectives from fans.

and following the assumption that cayde is completely, 100%, not coming back dead?

i don’t think it’s a very good move.

yes, it could tell a good story. the guardian, driven by hatred, pain, grief, and the burning desire for revenge. that slimy little bastard who’s hated us since we first set foot on the reef in vanilla destiny 1, leading an army of fallen, killing the most beloved character in the franchise.

but that’s the problem.

we love cayde. he is, overwhelmingly, the most popular character. no contest on that. killing him is a very, very bold move that i’m not sure bungie can do well, given how their writing in the rest of destiny has been.

they killed him in the trailer.

we don’t get that shock in game. we get to sit here for months with the image of cayde’s broken body, stewing in it, before we even see it in the game. we have to wait, knowing he’s going to die, and knowing we can’t do a thing about it.

that’s what’s the worst part.

destiny’s story is one of hope in a cold, dark universe. and they could have shown this without killing a beloved character like this.

yes. destiny has been very bright, it has had happy endings, because that’s the whole point. the light lives in all places, in all things.

it feels cheap.

we don’t get to save cayde. i know. the whole “you cant save everyone” thing.

but why can’t we try?

revenge doesn’t have to be for a death. it could be for kidnapping. maiming. torture. we could be just as driven to end uldren if he otherwise hurt cayde.

if we even thought cayde had been killed. if his gun was sent to us as a message. his journal.

hell, his ghost.

we go through the campaign with the furious desire to kill uldren, to rescue cayde, desperate to get to him in time. knowing full well it’s a trap and we don’t care. even if we know cayde could die. if we’re clinging to his broken ghost, our ghost using the last faint shreds of cayde’s light to guide us to our friend, our ghost so bitter and frightened and angry, just as we are, more aware of our and his fragility than ever. knowing he is helpless without us, knowing we could just as easily be in cayde’s place.

that, too, could be the case if they needed to replace cayde as hunter vanguard and vendor for whatever reason. nathan fillion is doing a new show. but it’s also definitely not the reason theyre killing his character. he did voice work for destiny while he was doing castle. if, for some reason, he wasn’t doing destiny anymore, they could have him leave the vanguard. place someone, likely shiro, as head of the hunters. he would likely then just... do his own thing. explore, albeit more cautiously than before. but he might also stay, perhaps not at the tower, but in the city, because he’d be so afraid, after all that happened to him. maybe he’d go to mars, help ana scour rasputin’s files.

but instead, we sit here, and we wait, and we log in to destiny and we listen to cayde chatter so casually over the comms and argue with the other characters, tease them, make jokes. we turn in our flashpoints and stare at him, knowing he’s a dead man months before he sets foot on the reef. knowing we can’t save him. we can’t help him. we can only mourn him before he’s even gone.

all so that bungie could desperately try to get people to play destiny 2 again? to get people to care?

yes, i care. i care a lot. that’s why i don’t want to play now. i care about this beautiful world of darkness and monsters, and how we can be the hope and the light for humanity against the face of evil. i care about the way that against all odds we save ourselves and the people we were resurrected to protect. i care about the message of determination, even in the most bleak circumstances.

we don’t get the chance to be hope and light. we see cayde murdered with his own gun in a one minute trailer. we don’t get to save him. we don’t get the chance. we don’t get the choice.

we don’t even get the horror of experiencing cayde’s death in the game. we know it’s coming. we know we can’t stop it. we know we aren’t going to be able to save him. we aren’t fast enough, strong enough, smart enough, anything enough to save him.

and that’s a shame. really. it is.

could you imagine the reaction of seeing him killed in game? having no idea what’s going to come? seeing uldren on the reef, seeing the fallen he’s leading, seeing their destruction and chaos. fighting alongside cayde. beaten back.

the dawning horror as you realize where the story is going when the cutscene starts. your guardian held back by one of uldren’s barons, somewhere he can’t reach. cayde, barely on his feet, as weary as you are against so many enemies, still fighting, calling to you, assuring you that he’s going to save you. he’s desperate, there’s fear in his voice.

he thinks you are going to die.

you can only watch instead as uldren appears. so calm. another baron backhanding cayde, and you’re fighting, pushing with all your light, but you can’t get to him.

Cayde struggling to his feet as his ghost starts to heal him. cayde snarling at uldren, demanding your release, an explanation, anything, and maybe he’ll spare him. cayde pulling ace of spades on uldren.

uldren moving too fast, snatching cayde’s gun as the baron hits him again. cayde realizing then just what’s at stake here.

and you, too, realizing this. the player. and you feel more hatred and rage and pain as you watch cayde look slowly from you to the man he now knows is going to be his murderer.

but we don’t get the fight. the horror. not us, the player. the guardian, yes, but we? we as players? no. we won’t fight. we are going to watch with bitterness. if you knew someone was going to die, and knew you could not save them no matter how hard you tried? knew for certain, a fate in stone?

why would you want to try if you knew you would fail?

by the time we see him die in game, we’ll all have moved through all the stages of grief. our revenge won’t feel as sharp. we as players won’t be driven by violent, bloodthirsty hatred and anger like we should be. we should be pushing through the game screaming at him in rage, fighting our way through uldren’s army with cayde’s death painfully fresh.

we won’t be. it’ll be a slow, bitter fight. because we’ve known he’s dead for so long before we even see it. and that’s not fair. it’s not fun.

cayde didn’t get the development he deserved. they had so much set up and didn’t deliver any of it. the d1 strike to kill the fallen that killed his best friend? he wasn’t involved. warmind, the search for rasputin, which he’s been involved in for so long? cayde didn’t get closure for anything he should have. his story is unsatisfying and he’s going to die without being relevant to everything he was set up to be relevant for.

bungie has one chance to get this right. i don’t think i’m going to be buying the dlc. i’m going to wait until other people play it and tell me if they did it right. and i’m not the only one, it seems.

#cas chats #destiny #destiny forsaken

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phandomsecretvalentines · 7 years ago

Text

Tell Me Everything Will Be Alright

This is my fic (and my first phanfic wow) for the 2018 Phandom Secret Valentines, and my valentine is @citrouillephan!

I hope you enjoy! -from your valentine, @realityfallsapart

tags: fluff, angst, 2009 AU

words: 4.7k

Summary: Dan Howell tends to get lost in his head and his thoughts have a habit of ruling him even when he doesn’t want them to. When he and his best friend finally have a chance at meeting, Dan starts to wonder if he is actually good enough for the amazing human being that is Phil Lester.

(ao3 link)

(Thank you so much to @moonbeamphan for reading this over and helping me! This wouldn’t be as good without you!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dan typed his answer and sent it by hitting enter before leaning back in his chair and letting out a shaky breath that seemed to rattle his insides. His laptop chirped quietly, announcing that Phil had replied to him. He couldn’t bring himself to look at it right away. Finally, after a few moments, he flicked his eyes down to the white screen of the computer in his lap where Phil’s most recent message seemed to glare up at him.

Phil :) (9:47 PM)

i know!

i can’t believe it either!

For a few moment, Dan could do nothing but stare at the screen; at the black words disrupting the artificial white light. It was the only thing that gave Dan any sort of illumination in his room; everything else was dark. He bit his lip and thought about the possible pros and cons of shutting his laptop and burying his head under his duvet to pretend that everything was fine because it was. It’s all fine.

Dan shook his head and reached his hands down to the keyboard. He wouldn't—couldn’t—do that to Phil. Phil deserved so much better than that. His numb fingers typed out a small sentence, only realizing that it had several typos until after he had sent it. He mentally kicked himself for it.

Dan ^-^ (9:51 PM)

Me niether! it seems like thsi would n e v e r happen!

**neither, this

Jeez i can spell

Phil :) (9:51 PM)

idk dan are you sure you can def spell? those seem like some pretty beginner mistakes…

Dan knew Phil was kidding. He knew that it was just Phil playing around with Dan like they normally did. Like they had been doing for months at this point. But in Dan’s heightened state of anxiety and stress, he couldn’t help but berate himself further. God, Phil must think of him as a kid now, he can’t even spell right!

Dan crashed back into his mattress, groaning and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid….” he muttered, hitting his forehead with his hand with every word.

Looking back on this moment, Dan would laugh and realize how utterly idiotic his anger with himself was coming from, but right now, in bed with the lights off and by himself, he couldn’t help but magnify the issue. He had been anxious and stressed without a pause this entire week.

He looked up at his ceiling, sighing in growing frustration towards himself, but it wasn’t just because of his inability to catch his typos. In fact, it had nothing to do with them. The typos had just tipped him right over the edge and all of his insecurities crashed over him like waves, his head nearly going under the tide.

To say he wasn’t good enough was an understatement. To say that Phil deserved a much better best friend than Dan was even more of one. Phil was older, more experienced, more mature, funny, smart, kind, and extremely compassionate. He had a great time making pretty successful and entertaining videos (at least in Dan’s opinion, and he would always fight anyone who said otherwise) on the side, on top of balancing life. Dan was younger, so much more less experienced with everything, he got overwhelmed with life and spent the majority of his time curled up under his covers surfing through the waves of his latest existential crisis or playing PC video games that he would forget about within the next 24 hours. He was purgatory in the form of a human and an incredibly underwhelming one at that.

He wasn’t sure how long exactly he laid there, stewing in his self-deprecation and wishing that he was better. Better in literally every aspect, maybe then he would finally be worth Phil’s time, if only a little bit. His computer chirped again, and then twice more minutes later in rapid succession, as if angry. Dan grasped for the thing, pulling it up to his chest, lacking the energy to sit back up.

Phil :) (10:07 PM)

Dan you know im joking right?

Phil :) (10:16 PM)

Dan? you still there? i was joking i promise you can make all the typos you want

u didnt fall asleep did you?

Dan couldn’t help the watery smile that turned the corners of his mouth up, albeit it being a small one. Phil had that effect on him even if Dan was falling apart on the inside. Just a little though, he was fine.

Dan ^-^ (10:18 PM)

nooo im not sleeping

Phil :) (10:18 PM)

Dan ^-^ (10:19 PM)

why the frowny face

Dan tried to keep the fear out of his thoughts but the talons of doubt had already settled around his heart. Was Phil mad that he didn’t answer right away? Would-

His laptop signaled the arrival of Phil’s reply, and Dan really didn’t know if he wanted to slam the lid of his computer shut or jump at the opportunity to find out if he had just ruined the best friendship he had ever had. Ever will. He went for the latter.

(Dan supposed he might be overreacting, but then again, when wasn’t he, it seemed?)

Phil :) (10:20 PM)

did i insult your typing skills one too many times? is that why you disapeared?

*disappeared

Dan used the best coping mechanisms for dealing with his anxiety that he knew: humor and avoidance. Together, they were a formidable force and Dan had spent a large majority of his time perfecting their potency.

Dan ^-^ (10:20 PM)

now look who’s making the typos

Phil :) (10:20 PM)

Dan.

He gulped. Now he had done it. Fuck. He had to fix this.

Dan ignored the roar behind his ears that seemed to be screaming that he should just ignore this all, pray that things would magically fix themselves and change the topic. That was his fear talking. His self-abandonment. His anxiety. His everything. Phil was worth so much more. So Dan pushed it all away for just long enough to reply.

Dan ^-^ (10:21 PM)

sorry, joke

no, thats not why i ran away

i was just thinking, thats all

Phil :) (10:21 PM)

were you doing it again

Dan tried to pretend that he didn’t know what Phil was talking about and simultaneously cursed himself for telling Phil about his increasing habit for getting lost in his thoughts. He failed. He knew exactly what Phil was talking about.

Back, about three weeks ago in a later-than-normal conversation where all of their inhibitions seemed to dissipate, Dan had finally come clean about how sometimes thoughts got the best of him. He would crumble under them, get so completely and utterly lost in his head that he would sometimes stay there for hours on end, picking apart anything that his conscience decided to dig up. And it hindered Dan, made him hate himself just that much more, made him hate how easily his anxieties held him hostage, stuck. But he couldn’t do much about it, it seemed, for whenever he got lost in his head, he always forgot that he had to get out.

Dan gulped. He had to lie his way out of this. He knew that Phil didn’t like it when Dan got stuck. He could pull off nonchalance, right?

Dan ^-^ (10:22 PM)

Phil :) (10:22 PM)

im not convinced

you were werent you

Dan ^-^ (10:23 PM)

does my word not count for anything lol

Phil :) (10:24 PM)

maybe if we were talking and i could see your face it’d count

Dan ^-^ (10:24 PM)

what’s my face got to do with anything?

Phil’s bubble appeared on the screen once, twice, three times, before he apparently decided on what he was going to say and sent it. The entire time Dan was a few words away from having a breakdown. His hands were shaking. His mind was racing faster than normal. Faster than it had in what seemed like a very long time.

Phil :) (10:26 PM)

bc then i could tell if you were lying

tho rn i dont even need that

Dan ^-^ (10:26 PM)

are u seriously saying im lying

Phil :) (10:27 PM)

yeah

you did everything that you always do when you arent telling the truth

you joked

changed / focused the conversation onto smth else

and besides

ive gathered that you really dont like to talk about the things that bother you. you like to ignore them and stuff

Dan ^-^ (10:28 PM)

so how bout we not talk about them then

Phil :) (10:29 PM)

normally, maybe

but not with this

Dan ^-^ (10:29 PM)

and why not?

Phil :) (10:29 PM)

bc i dont like it when you beat yourself up in your head

Dan ^-^ (10:30 PM)

who said i was beating myself up in my head

Phil :) (10:30 PM)

… dan :/

youre avoiding again

Dan cursed himself. God, since when could Phil read him like a book?

Dan ^-^ (10:32 PM)

fine. maybe i am

what are you gonna do about it philly?

Phil :) (10:32 PM)

daaaaannnnnn

you arent allowed to beat yourself up

no ones allowed to

especially you!

Dan giggled, just a little. He couldn’t help it when Phil was being…well, Phil.

Dan ^-^ (10:33 PM)

and why not? Hmm?

Phil :) (10:34 PM)

bc youre my favorite person silly

my favorite person cant be sad. its just the rules

Dan ^-^ (10:35 PM)

oh yeah? whose rules then, oh wise philip

Phil :) (10:35 PM)

ew dont call me philip my nan calls me that

and theyre my rules

my rules for my favorite person

Dan ^-^ (10:35 PM)

suuurrreee phil. sure its a rule

*philip

Phil’s cursor didn’t appear seconds after Dan had sent his message like usual. Insead, nothing appeared. Their good-natured banter had eased the storm raging inside of Dan and his thoughts and anxieties had died down a little, much more easier to bear with the distraction Phil was giving him, but with the sudden disappearance of his best friend, they came back full force. All of his doubts spilled into the front of his conscience. He shivered. It wasn’t from the cold.

Dan watched the little digital clock at the bottom of his laptop screen count the minutes falling away. One, two, three, four, five, god did what did he do-

Phil :) (10:41 PM)

[multimedia image: click to load]

With his heart in his throat, Dan clicked, and a small window appeared, momentarily covering their chat from Dan’s view. It was hard to make out, the quality bad and the image itself grainy and dark, but it was of a piece of paper lying atop two legs clad in bright pyjamas that Dan could immediately connect to Phil and his eccentric personality. He could make out the tip of Phil’s finger at the top of the shot, too. Squinting, he looked at the paper itself, zooming in to make out the words penned in Phil’s handwriting.

Rules:

1. Dan Howell is my favorite person

2. No one is allowed to make fun of him

3. ESPECIALLY if that “no one” is Dan himself

Dan started to laugh. Only Phil would actually make a list of “rules”. Only Phil.

Before Dan could reply, Phil was typing again.

Phil :) (10:43 PM)

there. proper rules written on proper paper. you have to follow them now

Dan ^-^ (10:44 PM)

i cant believe that you actually wrote rules you spork

but fine! i guess if i have to lol

Dan was still working heavily with avoiding the whole situation entirely, just like with what he was doing to the problem causing him so much stress to begin with, but he couldn’t help it. It’s just how he was.

Phil :) (10:46 PM)

so you admit to your crimes xD

but anyways

you were stuck in your head again

which is okay, i mean, i understand that it’s something you cant help

Dan felt like he was going to cry. Phil’s assurance that Dan’s mind running in panicked circles was perfectly okay was almost too much. Phil’s compassion was almost too much.

But it appeared that Phil wasn’t done, because his laptop dinged quietly again.

Phil :) (10:47 PM)

can i ask whats got you so sad and worried

so i can beat it up

obvs

Now Dan really wanted to cry. How could he tell Phil that the reason was him? How could he say that the root of this ball of anxiety and stress and worrying that had taken over him was Phil himself?

He couldn’t do that to Phil, not when his best friend would undoubtedly take it hard. God, if Phil knew why Dan kept getting lost in himself, he would be crushed.

Dan ^-^ (10:51 PM)

noooo

Phil :) (10:51 PM)

are you sure? i wont judge you dan, i swear it doesnt matter if you think i wont like it

i just wanna be here for you

If Dan wasn’t crying earlier, he was now, a few select tears dripping down his cheeks, brimming with the emotions that had been taking over him this past week. Phil was…too much. He was too kind, too sweet, too undeserving of someone like Dan. God, Phil deserved the whole world, he shouldn’t have to settle with Dan.

Another message appeared on Dan’s screen, as but this one didn’t seem like normal, it was a little off, a little rushed, a little…something. Dan couldn’t place it.

Phil :) (10:53 PM)

bc youre my best friend.

obvs. xD

If Dan wasn’t so out of it and was able to think clearly, he might have questioned Phil’s “clarification” of why and what sense he wanted to be there for him, but Dan was not in the best state of mind and he thought nothing of it.

Dan looked at his screen again. He still had to acknowledge Phil’s question, and he wasn’t sure how to go about it. He wanted to tell Phil he already told him everything, have Phil reassure him and tell him that everything was going to be okay again, like he normally did. But Dan couldn’t. He couldn’t lie again, once was already once too many, and something told Dan that if he tried to ignore it or change the topic, Phil would just call him out again.

Fuck.

Dan ^-^ (10:56 PM)

it doesnt matter

Phil :) (10:56 PM)

yes it does

its enough to make you get lost in that head of yours, so it matters

Dan ^-^ (10:57 PM)

phil we both know it doesnt take much for me to get lost in my thoughts

Phil :) (10:58 PM)

still

something is bothering you and i want to fix it

Dan bit his lip. God, Phil had no idea how badly he wanted to let him fix this. He couldn’t though. He just couldn’t.

Dan ^-^ (10:58 PM)

nooo phil, you cant fix this one

Phil :) (10:58 PM)

>:(

you cant even let me try?

Always, always, but just not with this. Dan couldn’t tell Phil this, not when it would hurt him.

Dan ^-^ (11:00 PM)

no phil, not with this sorry :(

Phil :) (11:01 PM)

:((((

okay

i may not like it but i can respect that

will you tell me tomorrow?

Dan looked at the screen, thinking about it. Tomorrow was what he was worried about to begin with. Could he tell Phil tomorrow? He wasn’t sure. Well, it didn’t matter if things went good or not, Dan mused, tomorrow Dan’s fears would either be affirmed or destroyed.

He could only hope.

Dan ^-^ (11:03 PM)

sure

tomorrow

Phil :) (11:03 PM)

yay!!!

Dan laughed, breathily.

Phil :) (11:03 PM)

oooh! look at the time!

its getting so late bear wow

guess we should get to sleep so we dont fall asleep on each other tomorrow huh? xD

Dan’s heart physically melted at the use of Phil’s pet name for him. He only used it occasionally, but it never failed to make Dan’s heart stutter in his chest and the butterflies in his belly to flit around faster, making him feel almost giddy. Hopeful.

God he sounded so stupid right now. Anxious and stressed out of his mind yet still acting like a little kid with their first crush.

Stupid feelings.

Dan ^-^ (11:05 PM)

yeah i guess we should!

night philly :)

Phil :) (11:05 PM)

goodnight dan!! :D

see you tomorrow!

(ps, idk whats bothering you and thats okay but i hope whatever it is it works out for you :“) )

Ah yes. That’s what it boiled down to. Tomorrow morning Dan would board a train and take it up to Manchester to spend some time with Phil. The first time that they would see each other in real life, not just behind a computer screen. They had skyped before and texted and chatted for countless hours over countless days, but the thought of tomorrow still made Dan want to throw up.

He wasn’t good enough for Phil. He was just so terrified that tomorrow Phil would see that.

Dan ^-^ (11:06 PM)

After hitting send Dan thrust the lid to his laptop down and pushed it off of his chest, letting it fall onto the bed. Dan felt sick again. He was so scared about tomorrow because there were so many things that could go wrong and so many flaws that Phil could discover about Dan and so many, so many, ways for what is supposed to be the best day of Dan’s life to turn out to be his worst.

God, he hated his anxiety for always picking things apart. Always fucking with Dan’s own head.

Dan rolled over and grabbed his duvet, pulling it up and wishing that it would just swallow him whole. Fuck. He couldn’t do it tomorrow. He couldn’t handle this stress.

Taking a deep breath, Dan clutched his duvet tighter in his grasp and tried to keep his lip from wobbling.

Right now he just wanted to sleep. He wanted to forget that he didn’t feel good enough, that yet again his insecurities were screwing him over, that he wanted to cry. He wanted to forget. Unfortunately for Dan the universe didn’t agree and he ended up staying awake for hours after the he had closed his laptop, the entire time doing nothing but thinking, getting lost in his head, and wishing that his thoughts would just turn off.

For once.

Please.

~~~~~~

Dan slung his bag over his shoulder. His fingers felt numb. Unlike his greatest hopes, the fitful-at-best night’s sleep did nothing to alleviate Dan’s terror. If anything, it had only magnified it because now it was today and Dan couldn’t run anymore.

He took a cab to the station, and he ended up being earlier than he needed to be, having about an extra ten minutes to wait for his train. He sat on a bench, his legs nothing but jelly at this point, his fears making it quite easy to foresee his long legs from just giving out on him. Dan didn’t want to make an embarrassment of himself on top of it all, so he tried to calm his racing heart while he sat.

With no luck.

Of course.

Dan looked down at the ticket in his hand. It would be so easy to not go. To walk right out of the station, spend the weekend at home instead of with Phil, and not risk Phil seeing how utterly underwhelming Dan was as a person. He could lie, could say that he ran late, missed his train, maybe his parents changed their minds and didn’t let Dan go.

But God, as Dan looked down at the paper in his trembling hand, he couldn’t help but know that he wouldn’t be able to actually go through with not leaving. He wouldn’t be able to lie to Phil, not about something this big—who was he kidding, he had a hard enough time lying to Phil last night over something so small!

But more than that, Dan knew that it was much more than not being able to lie to Phil. He had wanted to meet Phil ever since he had started to watch his videos, and the sentiment had only increased tenfold with their fast friendship. Phil was now much more than a hero, much more than a few minutes of distraction. He was Phil, Dan’s AmazingPhil, and he was his best friend. That lanky black-haired boy was worth so so much in Dan’s eyes, and he couldn’t, couldn’t, leave him in the dust like that. God it wouldn’t just kill Phil, but it would kill Dan too. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

Dan had been thinking too hard. Before he knew it the train was pulling into the station and Dan gulped, raising on still-shaky legs and gripping the strap of his bag so hard he didn’t even have to look to know that his knuckles were blotched white.

As Dan took his seat, a new resolve washed over him. He would go. He would endure this train ride that undoubtedly would be the most anxiety-inducing thing he had done in a very long time—possibly ever—and he would do it for Phil. If Phil would reject him or not, he would try not to dwell on it on the coming trip (a losing battle, Dan knew), but he would still go.

For Phil.

~~~~~

Dan’s heart was going so fast he was sure that he was going to pass out. His hands, his arms, legs, his whole body was trembling.

Manchester’s Piccadilly Station.

Dan was here.

There was a decent amount of people on the station as far as Dan could see as the train pulled in, but none of them looked like his best friend.

The train came to a stop and Dan stood, the first to make it to the doors and there when they opened.

Strangely enough, when the doors pulled open and Dan took a step out into the station, he stopped trembling. His heart slowed—not by much, but it slowed—and this whole thing didn’t seem quite as scary. Sure, Dan’s thoughts were still screaming in his head, sure, his anxiety was still off the charts, and sure, his hands were still sweaty and his breath was still shallow but still. It was as if a calm had washed over him.

Dan wasn’t sure what to make of it. Maybe he was just going into shock.

People busied around him, walking this way and that, talking into cell phones, to other people, some silent. Dan, unsure of everything right now, followed where the general push of people were guiding him, the whole time craning his head, looking for his Phil. He tried not to panic. He tried.

But with every second the calm that had overtook him was shrinking and his anxiety steadily increased.

Did Phil forget? Did he stand me up? Oh God he’s not coming he didn’t come-

"Dan!”

Dan whirled around at the sound of his name, uttered by a voice that sounded so much better when it wasn’t distorted by their shitty computer’s speakers.

Before Dan could register really anything, he was being engulfed in a hug, two strong arms wrapping themselves around Dan’s shoulders, pulling him flush against the figure.

Against Phil.

And instantly all of the shouting in Dan’s head was gone. The slight tremble in his hands vanished, and for the first time in a week, his anxiety was gone without a trace. Dan felt like crying.

Dan gasped in surprise, his brain taking a moment to reboot because Phil didn’t forget, didn’t stand him up, didn’t change his mind, and suddenly Dan felt very, very stupid because how could he ever think that Phil would do something like that. This was Phil, the kindest person on the planet.

Phil pulled away, just a little, just enough so they could see each other’s faces, and Dan had to keep himself from pulling Phil back in.

His smile was so wide, easily the widest Dan had ever seen it. And his eyes, oh God those eyes were a thousand times clearer, a thousand times more mesmerizing than behind a screen. Dan didn’t doubt for a second that he could stand here and look into them for the rest of the day without tiring of their never-ending beauty. Fuck. Why did his eyes have to be so gorgeous.

Dan tore his eyes away from Phil’s and looked over the rest of him, from his broad shoulders that Dan wanted to wrap his arms around, to the tussle of his hair that Dan craved to run his fingers through and the line of his jaw that Dan felt the need to trace. Double fuck. Why did the entirety of Phil have to be gorgeous.

“Dan! I can’t believe you’re here! I have today all planned out; I’m going to show you everything!” Phil said excitedly, a twinkle as clear as day in his eyes. Phil was practically vibrating with excitement and it made a smile spread over Dan’s features. Phil’s happiness was contagious.

Phil stopped his rambling, looking down at Dan sheepishly.

“I mean, if that’s all okay with you. If you don’t want to do something that’s okay, I totally get it. We can do anything you want, I-”

Dan tilted his head back and laughed, laughed because Phil seemed nervous. Phil was nervous and it was adorable.

“Yeah, yeah Phil it’s all fine. All of it, don’t worry. I just can’t believe you want to do it all with me.”

Phil’s smile faded a little, and the twinkle in his eye got that much smaller. He looked a little sad.

“Was this what you were so worried about? That I wouldn’t like you?”

Dan bit his lip and looked down, giving a little nod.

Phil pulled Dan right back into a hug, but this time it felt even more real, and it was impossibly tighter. It felt like Phil was pulling all of Dan’s lost pieces together. Phil’s voice was in his ear.

“Of course I like you, Dan. You’re my best friend. I like you more than anyone else. Promise.”

Dan might have just felt like crying, in that moment. Phil accepted him. He wasn’t going to leave him. Things were okay. They were okay.

He knew that this would hit him later, maybe tonight when he had a chance to process things. He’d probably cry out of relief, but it would all be okay because Phil would be there to hold him together and ease all of Dan’s worries.

Soon enough they set off, hand in hand, and Dan was smiling so wide, so, so wide. He couldn’t have been happier with how things had turned out.

Dan looked sideways at Phil, trying to not be too obvious.

This had worked out so maybe, just maybe, something else could work out for him.

~~~~~

Dan stood at the window, a cup of coffee in his hand. It was early, and he could see the technicolor dream across the sky that was that morning’s sunrise. The steam from his coffee rose from the rim of the cup and slowly diffused into nothing; tendril-like hands wisped up and around Dan’s neck.

It had been nearly nine years.

Dan’s nervousness and dark thoughts never ceased to plague him, however, he learned to deal with it better. He could confidently say that he has never been happier.

It had been nearly nine years, and they were still inseparable. Their channels had grown exponentially, and they boasted an insanely large fan community.

As the years had gone by, their strong, unbreakable friendship slowly blossomed into something remarkably beautiful. Their long Skype calls turned into late night kisses, and they had been happily in love for nearly nine years.

Dan twisted the ring on his third finger. As well as being happily in love, they were also engaged to be married within the next year. Lately, he’d been waking up in complete disbelief.

The thing Dan had wanted so desperately to work out for him did, and in the most perfectly perfect way possible.

#submission

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anghraine · 8 years ago

Text

“in tongues and quiet sighs” - fic

Wherein I decided to write a Space Spanish(+ obligatory Space Swedish!) fic after all, once I got to thinking about how interesting the inherent complications are.

This was, incidentally, a monster to write despite being a short Chaucer fic. I think it’s been rattling around my hard drive for a month and a half.

fandom: Star Wars

verse: the “okay but about that earlier script where Jyn and Cassian make it out” continuity (i.e., with threshold of a dream, but not ad astra or any of the others, despite some commonalities)

characters: Leia Organa, Cassian Andor; Jyn Erso, Han Solo, Luke Skywalker (background Han/Leia and Jyn/Cassian)

length: 1k

stuff that happens: I meant it to be about Alderaanian among the Rebels in general, but it ended up being about Alderaanian and Leia, in the context of her relationship with Cassian.

“Alderaan has no weapons,” Princess Leia said, and it was true.

In that moment, they had no weapons. In the decades before, they had no weapons. Tarkin had no justification whatsoever for obliterating Alderaan: only the Death Star burning a hole in his pocket, and petty revenge on the princess.

That didn’t mean that Alderaan never had any weapons, of course. They’d voluntarily disarmed a good century before the Clone Wars. But there was a reason that Alderaanian spanned the galaxy, from the Core to the Outer Rim.

On the bright side, Leia’s first handler turned out to be a young, quiet, attractive man who shared her native language, if an unfamiliar dialect of it. On the every-other-side, Leia had a handler who didn’t tell her anything. Except to lecture, of course: do this, never do that, avoid that other one if you can.

“Su alteza,” said Cassian Andor, in the tone of strained patience that he always used with her, “no puede—”

“Teniente,” Leia returned, exactly mimicking his tone, “no puedes decirme—”

He was only twenty-two, but to judge by his sighs, twenty-two going on sixty.

And that was when he didn’t make her fight his murder droid.

III

Leia would not have said she cared one way or another about the atmosphere of the Rebellion’s bases. But insofar as she did, she liked the one on Yavin IV, at once their most secure and most expansive. Every day that she spent there, she saw more equipment and protocols and standardization. While she passed on whispers in the Senate, stolen codes, lent her diplomatic immunity to Rebel operations, the refuge at Yavin IV had become a real military base, against the backdrop of the temples and jungle.

She’d thought those magnificent from the first, which didn’t matter nearly as much, but a little: they lent a dignity to the hiding and secrecy, like Aldera. And though it looked nothing like Aldera, actual Alderaanian was everywhere—mostly alderés yavineso, clipped and rapid even to her ears, but also the familiar tones of Alderaan, the drawling alderés del exterior like Andor’s (alderés fiesteno, he always corrected, looking more murderous than usual), countless others, strange but readily comprehensible.

Afterwards, she didn’t know if she regretted that or not.

General Draven had all the spirituality of a rock, but he took one glance at Leia and ordered her to medbay.

“Don’t worry,” he said, with one of his more incomprehensible looks, “you won’t be alone.”

When she saw Cassian Andor unconscious in the next room over, an unfamiliar woman sleeping in the chair beside his bed, enlightenment dawned. So did shock; they all thought him dead on that rogue mission—an infiltration so completely unauthorized and so necessary that after years in intelligence, she’d never respected him more.

Andor stirred and squinted at the doorway, then mumbled, “Infanta?”

The Basic was easier to bear, but Leia refused to flinch; she was still her mother’s daughter, and if la Infanta de Alderán now meant something very different, the image could help the Rebellion.

That was all that mattered.

Not long after they settled on Hoth, Han started extending “kid” to Leia as well as Luke. It was more baffling than infuriating; when he said it, he always looked an odd mixture of defensive, stubborn, and uncomfortable.

Since Luke snickered every time, Leia fixed her sternest stare on him and ordered, “Spill.”

“It’s because of what Commander Andor calls you,” he said, to her still greater bewilderment; she and Andor liked each other, but were far too much alike to bother with studied familiarity—comfortably, they stuck with titles.

“Infanta?” said Leia, and of course, she understood as soon as it left her mouth. Han didn’t speak even the clumps of Alderaanian that Luke had picked up—he must think—Force, he thought Andor, rigid at the best of times and attached at the hip to Jyn Erso for the last year, was—he was jealous of Andor?

Nothing, Leia had thought, could ever make the title anything except a splinter in her chest: but for one moment, she smiled.

Leia, for reasons she didn’t care to interrogate, quite cheerfully let Han stew in jealousy of a colleague devoted to another woman. It was Luke who took pity on him and explained that a) infanta was her title, so kind of the opposite of a pet name, and b) Andor had probably never used a pet name for anyone in his entire life.

“Anyway, he’s Erso’s,” Luke said.

“They’re friends, like you and me,” replied Han, though he seemed mollified (as far as Leia, definitely not eavesdropping, could make out).

“Uh,” said Luke, “unless you’re planning on dragging me into a supply closet sometime soon, not really.”

Leia slipped away, satisfied—and the next time she saw Cassian Andor, smiled so broadly that he frowned and said, “¿Está bien?”

“Sí,” she said, and meant it.

VII

Luke liked languages, and somehow or another, he had acquired a smattering of nearly all the widespread ones. Though he tended to forget Alderaanian words around others, with Leia he spoke it near-fluently—which turned it into something of a private language around Han.

Leia didn’t really care, except that it seemed appropriate in some ill-defined way that she and Han reached (and shouted) over a chasm, while she and Luke sat on her bed speaking earnestly of words—he talked circles around the holes in his Alderaanian, and she’d repeat simple Tatooine phrases over and over, mitt namn är Leia, mitt namn är Leia, mitt namn är Leia.

Neither of them, however, expected Jyn Erso to appear in the silent way she had, interrupting Luke’s uhh wait, it should be subjunctive with an air of even greater stoicism than usual.

“Do you need something?” said Leia, curious but no more; she neither liked nor disliked Erso, who was so reserved, and so indifferent to virtually everyone, that people joked (safely out of earshot) that Andor had replaced one murder droid with another.

“Uh,” Erso said, and now she seemed outright uncomfortable, “if … theoretically, I wanted to pick up some Alderaanian, I was wondering if—not you, but if you knew someone who wouldn’t mind…?”

“Nah,” said Luke, and when Leia glared at him, he added, “you’ll have to stick with us.”

Notes!

LOL, this is probably longer than the actual fic, but:

1) Su alteza, no puede—: “Your Highness, you can't—” (formal).

2) Teniente, no puedes decirme—: “Lieutenant, you can't tell me—” Cassian uses the formal tense, while Leia makes a point of using the familiar one. I was imagining that things like 'usted' are prevalent in the more far-flung Alderaanian-speaking planets and nearly extinct in the Core, so partly it's a matter of dialect, but she's also unhappy with her junior position and emphasizing her status.

3) alderés yavineso: Yavinese Alderaanian

4) alderés del exterior: Outer Rim Alderaanian

5) alderés fiesteno: Alderaanian of Fest/Fieste. It's customary to lump all the Outer Rim dialects together, but irritating to the people who speak those dialects; it's a vast area with tons of differences. Leia has quite a few colonial attitudes.

6) Infanta?: Princess? I've mostly seen it in reference to Iberian princesses in particular (e.g., Catherine of Aragón = la Infanta Catalina), so I was imagining it as specific to Alderaan and maybe a few nearby planets.

7) la Infanta de Alderán: "the Princess of Alderaan." Alderaan doesn't seem quite right for Spanish and "Fest" is just... German (and as anyone who has followed me for awhile knows, one of my random pet hates), so I imagined that a lot of the names are approximations in Basic rather than the names they themselves use.

8) ¿Está bien?: "Are you well?" Even outside of their previous dynamic, Cassian persistently uses the formal tense. (I'd actually originally planned another section about the assorted hiccups caused by regional differences in formal/familiar forms��like, Kes Dameron accidentally offends Cassian by using Alderaanian, because everyone is tú in his dialect, but in Cassian's it's incredibly rude to use with a stranger, and certainly a superior officer. But I decided I wanted Han/Leia more :P)

9) “Though he tended to forget Alderaanian words around others, with Leia”: he’s genuinely learning, but I imagine the bond with Leia subconsciously lends an assist, at least when they’re near.

10) mitt namn är Leia, mitt namn är Leia, mitt namn är Leia: "my name is Leia, my name is Leia, my name is Leia" (Swedish). I've been deeply grumpy at fandom slapping on stereotypes and Google Translate onto any and all characters played by Latinx actors, while expending all sorts of energy and creativity on e.g. the Skywalkers (whose originator speaks with a decided Swedish accent). So when I got lured into Space Spanish by thinking about linguistic drift and tenses and other fatal attractions, I was determined to also include the Skywalkers as Space Swedes.

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idolizerp · 5 years ago

Photo

LOADING INFORMATION ON POIZN’S MAIN VOCAL HA MINSOO...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: Min CURRENT AGE: 27 DEBUT AGE: 18 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 13 COMPANY: 99 Ent. ETC: this member has become known for their acting

IDOL IMAGE

in the beginning, he’s a dilemma.

it’s his face, they say. his features are too delicate to make the bad boy concept believable.

so they paint him in eyeliner, spike up his hair, ban him from talking and pass him off as the quiet and mysterious type. the cures give him the moniker ‘mina lisa’, as in all the photos taken of minsoo from 2010-2014, not a single one is found of him smiling with his teeth. his company markets him as something inaccessible, something exclusive. a rare collector’s edition to be framed and hung on a wall when fans reach a high enough level to unlock him. and for a long time, that’s how he stays. stuck and uncomfortable in leather pants and sleeveless shirts.

then, he’s a connection.

99 is experimenting. they manage to surprise him with ‘my type’ in 2015, a concept that trades in swagger for softness and emphasizes the member’s boyish charms. this is where minsoo thrives. clad in blue jeans, plaid tees, and a dimpled smile, he smooths over the abrupt change in poizn’s sound with his honey vocals and his natural boyfriend vibes. when the promotional era passes and poizn returns to their former direction, minsoo doesn’t quite do the same, not when 99 finally found his use.

now, he’s a solution.

he’s a pretty thing for 99 entertainment to push in front of cameras whenever they need to clean up another scandal. he’s the shiny bait meant to distract the public’s eyes with positive media attention and respectable drama ratings. he’s the pure hearted good guy. the swoon worthy male lead. he’s the picture-perfect boyfriend– all eye smiles and back-hugs and model height differences. even before he started acting, even in the beginning he had been an object to be possessed, a beautiful vessel for people to fill with their own ideals and desires. his current career path just happens to make him more accessible than ever. he has become so synonymous with the genre of romantic comedies that his off-screen image has begun to take after his roles. the expectation is to play into their expectations, to continue living in his character’s skin even when the cameras stop rolling. stay charming. stay upright. stay seen. and there’s no room for miss-step, not when the pedestal he’s been placed on is this high.

IDOL HISTORY

the day that minsoo’s life changes starts with spicy mackerel stew.

but today is not that day. it’s the beginning of the week, and minsoo is busy catching crabs by the seaside. he kicks up sand with his toes and chases those crafty crustaceans down the shoreline, giggling ferociously and waving at his grandma who watches from afar.

it’s not tuesday. his grandpa ran out of cigarettes, so he’s sat minsoo on his tractor to head towards the nearby supply store owned by an old schoolmate of his. minsoo plays with the owner’s cat on the steps of the store, surrounded by the smell of smoke and seaweed, as the two old friends chat and catch up outside.

it’s not wednesday either. that’s the day his parents have a holiday off from work, a demanding office job in the city that takes them away from minsoo and the busan countryside until late in the evening. he likes his grandparents. they sing to him and take him to the beach and sneak him treats when they think the other’s not looking. but moments with his parents are small but precious, like candy that melts as soon as it hits his tongue. he pretends he doesn’t mind when they say that they’ll be leaving for seoul again on a weekend business trip. it’s alright he smiles. i’m a big boy now.

it’s thursday and a lady from his grandparents’ church is coming over for lunch. when she hugs minsoo, he fights the urge to pinch his nose from the strong whiff of perfume and manicures, a polished sort of smell that seems out of place in his weathered and sun-bleached house. grandma stirs the mackerel stew on the stove with one hand and twists the knobs on the radio with the other. they live in a small seaside town, and the radio station’s setlist, like its residents, is charmingly simple. the same trot song that’s been on repeat that month starts to fill the kitchen with its melody, and minsoo, hands busy with wooden toys, sings along.

“my goodness,” he hears. “my son is a tv producer in seoul, and he’s looking for cute little kids that can sing and dance for his show. i’m going up there tomorrow, so how about i take little minsoo to the audition?”

in excitement, the lady grabs both his hands and stares into his eyes. his toys clatter to the floor. he’s got a face perfectly suited for the camera, she says. like he was made to be on screen.

the broadcast airs the following week, and it’s almost a community affair. friends, family, and neighbors gather around the biggest tv in town and cheer as minsoo appears in full hair and tuxedo. when he finishes singing, the host of the show calls him a trot child prodigy, and the epithet sparks a wildfire response from the people at home. it’s entirely a scripted exaggeration. he doesn’t even hold an interest in music. but the comment must have made a strong impression to his parents’ mind. when his dad finally earns his big promotion and moves his family to seoul, they sign minsoo up for vocal lessons almost immediately.

it’s in this that they make their biggest investment, and minsoo, unused to being poured this much attention from his parents, hold out both hands to receive every drop.

ii.

his schedule only gets longer once he starts middle school. while the bell at the end of the day signals all the other students to go to cram classes, minsoo goes straight to the vocal studio to practice until the windows darken. if he ever held promise as a student, he wasn’t given the chance to find out. on the other hand, the relentless training starts to pay off. he wins community talent festivals, small neighborhood contests, and his instructor switches him permanently to modern music. little by little, his efforts begin to reap results.

but ha minsoo is not a genius.

he wrestles for every minuscule amount of improvement to close the gaps where natural talent could have filled, easily. he grows from the ground up with only two advantages: an early start and a workaholic habit from two workaholic parents. when a midas scout approaches him after a competition and hands him a business card, it feels like a sign that he’s on the right track.

he passes the first round. then the next. even with his stiff dance movements, he’s deemed to have a decent sense of rhythm. you have the right foundation, they say.and a pretty face. anything else can be improved with enough practice.

and so they hand him a contract.

his adolescence passes by in a blur of trainee activities and secondary school obligations. if in busan he was a burst of bright colors, the concrete city had long since muted his saturation with its bleak vastness. instead of community, there are cliques. asphalt instead of sand. and after being bruised for the first few years, minsoo learned how to harden the softest parts of himself. he can’t afford to be without armor. not when there’s trainers to impress and company evaluations to satisfy. but there are still some things that he crumples before. he misses his hometown. he aches for it. it’s been years since he’s been lulled to sleep by the sound of the ocean, but there are still nights where he bolts awake, muscles tense, to the honk of car horns and the wail of police sirens that cut through the city. during the day he distracts himself with training, but at night, lying in the dark, there’s nowhere to run from his mind. what if he stops? what if he goes back? what if he throws away all the money his parents poured to get him to where he is now and takes the next bus to busan?

these are secret thoughts. by morning, minsoo packs them into boxes and locks them underground.

iii.

change comes in the form of a new company. 99 entertainment is a fresh start, and he accepts the opportunity with open hands. if in midas he was a shadow stuck to the wall, here he would begin to take form. he studies the other trainees’ behavior and learns how to be more at ease with those that he shares a dorm and a practice room with. at first it’s awkward, unnatural. he not only lacks the innate ability for outward congeniality, but years of disuse has made him rusty. he improves by degrees, and at some point, an image founded on hallway gossip starts to form around him: the pretty vocalist, the princely type, the sensitive soul with the dark past. the bolder ones even gave him a tragic backstory, like he was a character from their dramas that they could pine after in real life. where his silence used to be interpreted as standoffishness, it now became a sign of his elegance.

it’s here that he understands the power of perception. that his image is his second body, but one that isn’t his own– a presence to be in the room when he isn’t. he spends the rest of his trainee years honing his vocals, dance, and performance, of course, but also cultivating his persona. he trims the edges to fit him more comfortably and learns how to read the script that’s expected of him. it’s surprisingly simple, guessing what people want to hear. once he figured out where to look, he found that most people have their expectations written on their faces, like cue cards. it becomes a habit for him, a reflex. he gives them what they want, and they don’t ask for more. he finds it works just fine.

iv.

first there are whispers: 99 is debuting a boy group.

and then there are evaluations: twice as often and twice as strenuous.

and finally there’s the lineup: a shiny jumble of 99’s best, one with a spot reserved for min, poizn’s main vocal.

at the start, they struggle to pin a concept for him. he doesn’t quite fit the rebellious bad boy vibe they’re aiming for with poizn’s debut, not in the effortless way his members seem to take to it. so they teach him how to smirk, not smile. how to run his fingers through his hair and how to look natural in a leather jacket. it’s still not quite as convincing as they would’ve hoped, but it’s fine, they dismiss. he’s just the vocalist. he sets the stage with a soaring high note to signal the climax of the song and then retreats to the back for the main event, the rap line.

they find a better use for him when poizn starts to fall out of the public’s favor, scandal after scandal. they earn a nasty reputation of attitude controversies that prove they’re more than just a concept and so starts a ripple effect of 99 using whatever’s at their disposal to scrub it clean. including minsoo’s limited foray into acting.

they extend their influence to open doors for him, doors that would normally stay closed for his skill set. his first few roles are a train wreck of rookie acting, and it’s met with a merciless onslaught of scathing internet response at the transparency of 99’s media play. however, it’s a criticism that dies down with the buffer of time and exposure, and when he lands a spot in one of the biggest successes in cable broadcast history, minsoo gets launched into a different type of fame, one not tainted by notoriety.

suddenly, he has fans who have never heard of poizn. the drama changes the trajectory of his whole career. he establishes a name for himself in romantic comedies, a fortuitous combination of a charming and harmless public image that 99 couldn’t have planned better themselves. he becomes the perfect boyfriend, a glossy magazine cut-out that girls paste in notebook collages and sigh over on tv screens. he represents an ideal. one that doesn’t end when the cameras stop rolling, but continues in his real life interactions with producers, script writers, staff members– it’s the first rule of thumb about performing on stage: there’s always someone watching.

as his audience grows, so do the expectations. once upon a time they were easy to meet. now, he suffocates

#id.bio #id.99 #id.poizn #id.park bogum

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harlequindreams-blog · 7 years ago

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Can Massive Knowledge And AI Fix Our Prison</h1>

Whether or not you are a seasoned skilled or a newcomer to the world of photography, it's impossible to ignore the modifications happening throughout the trade. All you really want to know is that the iPhone SE is capable of capturing some remarkably detailed, nicely colored images. It produced the sharpest footage in vibrant gentle, plus it had the best stabilization and the least noise in low mild. These kinds of level and shoot camera are typically known as ‘bridge cameras', presumably since they are the proper bridge from a small compact to a bigger dSLR. It's primarily built for the people who find themselves not skilled photographers and so it entails focus free lenses or autofocus for focusing. Pros: Extraordinarily low price, skinny digicam easily matches in a pocket, 8X optical zoom lens is good in a thin digital camera, constructed-in Wi-Fi and Bluetooth connectivity. Most screens are LIQUID CRYSTAL DISPLAY and around three inches in size, with the resolution various considerably across value points. With the section-main advanced F1.4 24mm Lens, the big selection of aperture steps delivers clear photographs and video even in very low best point and shoot camera light situations. You've also acquired your self an awesome digital camera as long as circumstances are favorable, and all the facility you can presumably need with a quad-core 2.5GHz CPU at its coronary heart. Use the Canon Digicam Join app in your smartphone to wirelessly distant management the camera. It is tough to argue with the results from the Canon PowerShot G9 X Mark II camera. There's a super-high ISO value of 1,640,000 on provide, while 4K video recording is also on hand. The RX100 V offers an improved autofocus system, a 24 fps burst mode (of sixteen fps on RX100 IV), and extra recording settings for video, however it does have a slighly lower battery life than the IV. Taking photographs or recording video at a sporting event or capturing the finer particulars of a scenic view requires a longer zoom vary to attain lifelike photographs at a larger distance. Like the original Blackmagic Cinema Camera , the Pocket model sports a novel, all-steel design that feels solid - massively out of proportion to its low value. With improved AF times and reduced taking pictures lag over previous G-series models, the developments to Canon's AF system assist guarantee users by no means miss a shot. One thing I can stick in my jacket pocket while I travel and nonetheless get great photos. It's excellent for these candid road images snaps. Thanks to a long 34x zoom range with a high quality NIKKOR Lens, this Nikon level and shoot is a perfect journey camera. Through Wi-Fi, customers can send a digital picture to any email handle saved in your digital camera's deal with e book or by utilizing the camera's touch-screen QWERTY keypad. The Fujifilm X100F seems to be essentially the most significant overhaul of the X100 series since its inception, bettering on dealing with, performance and image high quality. Technophobes typically depend on devoted shutter buttons … but smartphone producers think the fewer buttons they've, the higher, so the devoted shutter release button should be on the way out. Small sensors often have trouble balancing shiny highlights and darkish shadows, however the 360 HS did an admirable job with this difficult excessive-contrast scene. It may well shoot its first picture 1 second after urgent the ability button, and it has virtually no shutter lag. After the initial set-up, sharing photographs might be so simple as using the LUMIX HYPERLINK software on the smartphone. Panasonic's Image App puts a dwell view of the scene (left) in your cellphone, the place you may set focus, hearth the digital camera's shutter, and modify most exposure settings. Including to its portability and comfort, the digicam features USB charging by means of a computer or conventional charging by the AC adaptor, permitting users to power-up from just about wherever. My D-Lux 4 has change into my again-as much as my back-ups since I purchased it a bit of over a yr and a half in the past. First, the iPhone SE helps shooting Stay Pictures , shifting photographs that add a little bit aptitude and context to your pictures. In addition, the digital camera's creative handheld HDR Scene mode routinely combines multiple photographs of a scene to assist create an image with a greater dynamic range without the necessity for a tripod. Panasonic HDC-HS350 lets you report over 30 hours of HD. With numerous selections from manufacturers like Nikon, Canon, Fujifilm, Panasonic, Olympus, and SeaLife, it's definitely not straightforward to make a quick determination about which digicam is right for you. When you take a second to think about the feat Sony's accomplished right here, the efficiency issues are easier to miss. Within every sort, the myriad digital camera fashions vary drastically, from the bodily design, comparable to dimension and body shape, to the extra complex lens varieties, picture quality, capabilities, and worth. To know more in regards to the technical concepts and sensible demonstration of focal length and photography, be a part of 3 Months On-line Foundation Images Course. If you're headed on a trip where you count on to take lots of photos in low-light conditions, this digicam is your greatest guess. Use a smartphone to control publicity, launch shutter and receive photographs. Throw in maybe the best digital viewfinder in the business plus a beautiful touchscreen and you have got a stew going. Nikon's extensive focal vary (25 to 750 mm equivalent) means it might seize close-ups as simply as action far away. The 2 compression factors (first to focus, second to shoot) are very clearly defined, and I preferred them to the on-screen shutter button (you too can convey up the digicam app with a long-press of the bodily key). It isn't just like the 5D Mark III was a bad digicam - it was one of the best excessive-end DSLRs cash might purchase. Rather than questioning months later the place you had been while you took a specific photograph, GPS knowledge permits you to know precisely the place you were! In our tests, we discovered it does not right the left and right twist motions common to pole customers, however could have a huge effect on the amount of watchable footage. The digital camera can be set to the max 9900K and the tint at M7 and the colours look fairly good however will need some correcting in post.

It additionally lacks a touchscreen, a function we'd have appreciated as a quick and easy solution to set the main target level. Point and Shoot cameras make up a big phase of the digital digital camera market due to their ease of use and their reasonably priced price. The Twin Dial and entrance wheel keys additionally permit customers to shortly and simply alter publicity for easy pro-style control. So yeah, it will fit in your clothes and takes images that'd make your phone cry (had some macabre machine maker kitted it out with tear ducts). The PowerShot N is supplied with enhanced wi-fi capabilities, so excessive-quality photographs might be shared with family and friends even whereas on-the-go. Our selection of underwater cameras has everything for the most onerous core scuba divers in addition to the cautiously clumsy. One other major hitch for Powershot customers is the camera's poor battery life. Canon says that the sensor in this digital camera is engineered specifically for high quality shots in low mild, even at ISO speeds of as much as ISO 3200. The Canon PowerShot G16 occurs to be the camera I often suggest to any good friend who asks me what digital camera they should buy for less than $500, it actually is among the greatest pocket cameras out there. AF-S and AF-C is available in Single-point, Zone and Large/Tracking, making the Fuji-X70 versatile sufficient for many on a regular basis situations and fast paced topics like photographing kids. Olympus and Panasonic use Micro Four Thirds-measurement sensors, offering a middle floor and some excellent and reasonably priced lenses. Fast capturing pace allowed me to capture multiple photographs of the fish college because it formed and turned in a pleasing route. Out of the field, each panel on the Z3C's residence display screen carousel is completely sodden in widgets and shortcuts selling Sony's apps and providers, so you'll must spend somewhat time organizing this to your liking. Featured in two different colours, black, and silver, this digital camera is a beauty that's certain to take unimaginable pictures, whether it is day or night. As has turn into normal on most cameras, Canon's new mirrorless options NFC and WiFi, letting you easily switch footage to an iOS or Android machine. Certain, it's slightly on the hefty side, but it's nonetheless comfortably pocket-sized, is quite a looker, and was the one which we found ourselves reaching for when it came time to take a few holiday snaps on our own. When readers choose to purchase The Wirecutter's independently chosen editorial picks, it might earn affiliate commissions that help its work. Underneath bright daylight, it's going to seize the sharpest detail and deepest, most saturated color, so that recording of your child's first football recreation will capture each blade of grass. Pakistani Clothes Unstitched Cloth Kurtas & Shalwar Kameez Formal Wear Abayas & Hijabs Dupattas, Stoles & Shawls Pants & Trousers. With a wide-aperture f/1.7 lens, low-mild picture quality could be very impressive. The RX100 IV packs a 20.1-megapixel, 1-inch Exmor RS CMOS sensor alongside a BIONZ X image processor and Zeiss best pocket camera Vario-Sonnar T 24-70mm (f/1.eight-2.8) wide-angle lens. Underwater housings are primarily protective shells that encase cameras they're specifically designed round, and are sometimes made from thick plastic or aluminum, and are sometimes able to being submerged to depths of 30 meters or extra.

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tech-usa-blog · 8 years ago

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What we expect (and what we need) from Apple's WWDC keynote Take a few gossipy tidbits and toss in some hypothesis. Child, you have a stew going!

Apple's Worldwide Developer Conference (WWDC) is ideal around the bend, and the organization's opening keynote on June 10 will be its first open occasion in months. The drought hasn't halted the gossip process from beating—in the event that anything, the nonappearance of genuine news has just filled the theory about the organization's arrangements. Apple watchers are searching for something important, and regardless of the possibility that you just subscribe to the most conceivable gossipy tidbits it would appear that will get it.

We've taken after these bits of gossip as they've unfurled, observing which ones appear to be likely in view of Apple's open explanations (and the organization's past conduct). What takes after is a rundown of what we think Apple will discuss on Monday—regardless of the possibility that Apple doesn't have any enormous shocks up its sleeve, it would seem that it will be a bustling keynote.

iOS 7

The following rendition of Apple's versatile working framework is relied upon to become the overwhelming focus at the keynote, and in light of current circumstances: it will be the main form of iOS created under programming building senior VP Craig Federighi and outline boss Jony Ive in the wake of Scott Forstall's takeoff a year ago.

It's hypothesized that Ive's impact will bring about a visual upgrade of the working framework. It is trusted that, under his direction, iOS 7 will lose a hefty portion of the surfaces and UI-components that-resemble physical-questions for something compliment and more unobtrusive. Apple's as of late discharged WWDC application for meeting participants is thought to give a review of what the update will resemble: less sparkling catches and all the more level hues, yet practically like current iOS applications.

What we've heard somewhat less about are the utilitarian changes that iOS 7 will bring. Tim Cook's remarks at the current All Things D meeting inferred that Apple might relax a couple of its tight limitations on outsider applications, giving designers access to APIs that will enable them to incorporate somewhat more profoundly with OS. Try not to anticipate that iOS will progress toward becoming as adaptable as Android—Cook believes that a large portion of Apple's clients depend the organization "to settle on specific decisions for their sake." But we're trusting that outsider applications will be permitted to supplant some of Apple's default applications, and that outsider applications will have the capacity to share information among themselves more effectively than is as of now conceivable.

OS X 10.9

Amid Apple's unexpected PR rush for Mountain Lion last February, the organization said it would discharge OS X on a yearly cycle starting there on, so we'll in all likelihood get some news about OS X 10.9 at WWDC. We haven't heard much about the following adaptation of OS X, aside from unclear bits of gossip that it will be centered around "power clients."

These bits of gossip recommend that OS X 10.9 will present another, iOS-like assignment switcher, and additionally iOS-esque application delaying to free up framework assets for different applications. Other reputed highlights incorporate an upgraded, selected Finder, another Safari with a redesignd backend, and enhanced multi-screen bolster for Spaces. (Since the present level of multi-screen support is "none," that last one ought to be simple.). Some more seasoned gossipy tidbits additionally recommend that Siri and the Apple Maps APIs will likewise be advancing over from iOS.

In the event that iOS gets the outline upgrade that everybody is expecting, some of that work will unavoidably be extended to OS X. Applications like Notes, Calendar, and Contacts in OS X reflect their iOS partners outwardly, so if the iOS renditions of those applications get a crisp layer of paint the OS X forms most likely will as well. Other visual changes are conceivable (perusing John Siracusa's OS X surveys all together will demonstrate you exactly how the OS's look has moved from discharge to-discharge), however OS X is as of now quite level and downplayed in its UI plan—I wouldn't expect anything as exceptional as what is apparently in store for iOS 7.

iRadio

There are a couple Apple bits of gossip that simply decline to kick the bucket, regardless of how long old they are. Talk destinations and dumbfounded experts love to concoct things like the "Apple TV" and "minimal effort iPhone" and afterward regard them as actualities, taking hold of the littlest shreds of confirmation and holding tight for dear life.

One of those enduring gossipy tidbits is Apple's gushing music benefit, most much of the time alluded to as "iRadio." The soonest forms of these bits of gossip, which assert that Apple is taking a shot at a membership based iTunes administration to match Spotify or Rdio, achieve the distance back to 2007. Later reports from October 2012 and prior this month recommend that Apple is as yet working out concurrences with the music marks to get this going.

In the event that Apple arrangements to do this by any stretch of the imagination, the sooner they present it the better. The previously mentioned Spotify and Rdio are as of now dug in, and Google simply declared its own particular membership music benefit a month ago in Google Play Music All Access. Ideally Apple can use the energy of its image to give iTunes clients a similar kind of arrangement.

iCloud, Maps, and different administrations

The gossip process has a tendency to be at its most precise when it's discussing equipment, which produces segments and part numbers that every so often spill from some place in Apple's store network. Programming is additionally generally simple to follow, since it can leave server records and foggy screenshots afterward.

What you don't hear much about are Apple's back-end administrations, yet don't anticipate that Apple will stay noiseless on this theme. iCloud and its related administrations is the paste that ties iOS, OS X, and some first-and outsider applications together nowadays, and given the keynote's target group you can wager that Apple will talk up any enhancements that it's making.

Specifically, we want to see enhancements to the way iCloud works with outsider applications. Engineers have various dissensions about the administration's unwavering quality and consistency, as we revealed recently. We'd likewise love to see the administration turn out to be more adaptable—in the event that I need to alter archives from TextEdit in some other iCloud-good content tool on iOS or OS X, I ought to have the capacity to.

We'd additionally anticipate that Apple will invest some energy discussing enhancements to its Maps information, something which may come up in the iOS 7 dialog. Open gathering to Apple's Maps application upon its discharge was sufficiently negative to provoke the terminating of the item administrator mindful and an uncommon conciliatory sentiment from Tim Cook; we'd be shocked if Apple didn't in any event set aside the opportunity to talk up the measure of exertion it has put into enhancing both the mapping information and the application itself.

The MacBook Air

Macintosh presented the 2012 MacBook Airs, the 2012 MacBook Pros, and the primary Retina MacBook Pro precisely a year back finally year's WWDC, and it's completely conceivable that we'll get an encore this year. Intel has quite recently declared an entire gaggle of portable quad-and double center CPUs in a perfect world suited to new MacBooks, and the PC OEMs are as of now talking up equipment that uses the new chips.

How about we begin with the MacBook Air, since fixing supplies show that the present models are the destined to be supplanted. I wouldn't anticipate that new Airs will look radically unique in relation to the present ones—regardless of the possibility that the plan is changed, there's not a considerable measure of additional fat to trim out. The new Haswell-based CPUs ought to expand GPU execution a conventional sum over the HD 4000 GPU in the present models, however relying upon which specific chip the PCs utilize, the CPU execution won't not be definitely extraordinary. Haswell ought to likewise make for enhanced battery life over the 2012 models, expecting the battery sizes (and different specs) are comparative.

Haswell may likewise make it feasible for Apple to pack a Retina show into the MacBook Air without failing battery life or making the machine bigger or heavier. Be that as it may, I wouldn't wager on them this time around—cost is certainly an element, however I likewise think Apple will keep on using the Retina show to separate the Pro line from the Airs for at any rate one more year.

With respect to different overhauls, the Airs will most likely miss Thunderbolt 2, yet 802.11ac Wi-Fi appears like an easy win. We'd love to see no less than 128GB SSDs and 8GB of RAM to come standard on all models, given that SSD costs continue falling and RAM costs have been low for some time.

The Retina (and non-Retina) MacBook Pro

The 15-inch Retina MacBook Pro has been around for right around a year, and it's about due for a Haswell-seasoned revive (like the Air, supplies are likewise purportedly obliged). The 13-inch model is just eight months old, yet Apple isn't hesitant to break its own particular revive cycles sometimes. The way that the 13-inch rendition utilizes incorporated representation would make Haswell's headways considerably more welcome.

The question for the 15-inch display specifically is about the GPU it would utilize. Apple could proceed in its present course and essentially change out the Nvidia GeForce GT 650M GPU for the identical 700-arrangement model, or it could change to an AMD portable GPU rather (it has been known to switch between the two from era, maybe to keep both organizations competing for its business). Notwithstanding, Haswell opens up an intriguing probability: discarding the devoted GPU altogether and utilizing one of Intel's Iris GPUs.

Presently, AnandTech's typically intensive benchmarks of Iris demonstrate that it falls somewhat shy of the GeForce GT 650M more often than not, infrequently by as much as a third. Be that as it may, the power funds that are made conceivable by expelling the devoted GPU from the tablet's motherboard would be noteworthy, and we found in the 2011 MacBook Air (when Apple changed from Nvidia's incorporated representation back to Intel's) that the organization will surrender a few illustrations execution to serve different closures—Apple could either help battery life or hold comparable battery life while contracting the suspension.

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