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pndnj · 3 years ago

Text

Cathartic- Yellow Metal Lyrics

Heres where I am with the lyrics, I referenced @25Goldenn on twitter for some of it that I couldn’t comprehend.

*music*

0:23

Dark matter, like painted splatters, they fit better, the old saying, the way it goes, better the devil you do then you don’t know. I hit pedals and switch levers, my heart metal, I can't settle, im part trouble, they are not subtle. I fuck good so fuck cuddles, burst bubbles the thrist levels at new heights, i down doubles, and got baked til I felt high, my face puzzled, felt muddled, far strung and your floors woodent, the thought might but the fit wouldn’t. A fortnight

0:46 - 1:00

And I thought right, it’s all bark and no bite, I’m Tony Stark still embarking on a dream, took a bit of time to take darkness from the team. Seen what I saw. Heartless on the sleeve. Tried to burn my wings, so I put them in a piece on my chest , at peace no rest.

1:00-1:15

Flipped this on it’s head. Rip the script up now, flip it don’t pretend, slipping shit again, Fakers all around me, I’ve been living in pretense. Fake friends won’t make amends. There’s no need, these mean comments control the scenes. Attentionseekers, the spine is weakened

1:15-1:24

This family needs, what a family needs, and the planet bleeds, the damaged trees. It’s never leaving til we ascend so fuck the fence, and until they stop killing colour it’s fuck the feds.

1:22 - 1:44

You must be off it, I mean it, you know you ain’t never get with the judging and I used to dread growing my beard too long, never felt I belonged, but it's really long like a minute I ain’t looking to no mans for the limits, They’re feeling timid, I’m telling them who they mimic, why they don't look like a clinic …. Why they don't get no women, Still, we’re just fucking girls, Lost in the wrong world, Jurassic, now to this vermin

1:41- 1: 50

Kicking the game I’m serving, these losers are never learning, my fire is forever burning, adding it to my fuel, seems like I’m always focused on never becoming you, These locals that rob us feeling … was for a reason.

1:52-2:02

I’m seeing my new beginnings, watch out this loser’s winning, and no water is too deep to swim in Like I’m about to see a killing, I’m all the way that and living, flawless and feeling lawless, the prison now to the gimmicks, my vision is set to something,

2:03-:2:20

I’m watching you bitches plummet, no matches here for my cunning, you rappers are feeling done in, switching your genre, running and Running your jaw, stunting, pulling at straws, something I think you’re a poor effort, deaf and tone deaf and I ain’t treat you separate. Living, I’m in my element, riding it like a … never lose me to fentanyl, scared when I take a benadryl. Keeping it green in general

2:20- 2:46

Think that you remain irrelevant. Look at yourself with reverence, hoping to always elevate. Celibate of these thoughts, killing themselves with sedatives. In comparison to eminem, you’re feeling feminine. Impolitically correct, still dropping on my dick. And I never gave a fuck about what they say abt my shit, I’ve been moving things in my mind like it’s this mountain dew Memories have made me wonder if one day I’m after you. What’s the purpose that you do, is what you're hoping that they learn, i’d like to say i’m done but it’s getting up on my nerves

2:46 -2:55

I’m looking at my life, saying what do I deserve. It’s hard to say I know when I’m walking through the dirt. Talking while you’re nothing I can see for what it’s worth. I’m tired of feeling hurt and I’ve tried enough but nothing works.

2:55-3:40

I’m racking up excuses while I’m slacking off on work. Chit chatting is the usual, talking to this clerk, i beg you don’t include me. I might write it on my shirt so everytime they see me, the oldest know to swerve. SWERVE Life is potent, bits of fucked shit… till they took notice weren’t no hocus pocus, it was hard work that got me heard so i put in the graph like google maps but the whole earth

… around my door mat, taking over like the drones, rolling dirt up in miles like the water, and exploding like Annas hematoma. Don't need to see a slammer to know that I don't want to go man

I’m a showman. I’m just focused on the drama… like i’ve got my own insurance, show myself the pain, like i boxed it in the frame, if we’re about to talk greatness im great, the way you have to say my name like beyonce

“Say my name”

4:00-4:46

Just a bum with a cigarette, sun coming up, all my thoughts on the internet. Feeling deep, I’m just bored with the silhouette single sec, get fucked up for the thrill of it . killer streak playing Pacman. Like I came from the Philippines vanilla bean still a thing for the thrill of scene,

Theres a beam, UFO, Leave it well alone I aint moving, stood still on the peloton, telephone and its always on the dial tone, it's been a while since i’ve smiled at a milestone, seen a big pile in my mind stone, me against the world on my Jack Jones, Like I’m John Jones, With pictures in the condo, far from John Doe, in the ___, like I'm Johnny Bravo, got pravado, with a small dick sitting in golados, feeling far gone, cuz that last hit was the good shit, was that stay lit

4:48-5:02

You can never take my shit come and get me. On the top floor, cloud 9, fading, never bailing, felt amazing, inhaling, til my lungs two guns blazing. Overcome all the stunts that I pulled. A suit of just skin and then wool

5:02- 5:17

This life doesn’t give you no armour, a lot of myself can harm ya. I swear on what’s good, that I’m here till they take me. I pray that I’m wrinkled, at least over 80, and start moving like a ruler, ?damaged? Like a computer going fast, bars from the jeweler, bring the songs to the beach in hopes of finding tuna

5:18-5:36

…

5:36- 6:16

Grab a bat, lose my rag. Couple things got me mad, a couple people got me wrong and now I’m changing up the swag. Coming in and stealing it, I might take the whole bag. Feeling undefeated, I’m a beast with a reason, and imma lead the whole pack. Fearless like I’m Caesar, I’m just waiting for a chance to fill it up with diesel, and all I've been achieving is clocking miles in its region, moving like a legion.

Promise that I made to myself an allegiance. Do you still believe I’m a fool for ever leaving, staring at the ceiling, can never put a cap on achieving. I’m just here for the rap, then I’m leaving.

I’ve had about enough of being my own enemy, it’s time I grew up, a long way from 17. Always went against the grain, struggles in my life. Got some things to say when I stand up on a mike.

6:16-6:32

I ain’t dropping this for fame, I need this time, like therapy, it’s just to keep me sane. The truth is on my medicine, can’t put that on your plate.

Speeding into everything, bout time I fixed the brakes. Don’t say I can’t communicate , you know I conversate with you in several different ways. And I know you know it’s references, looking at your face.

6:33- 6:53

Can’t justify mistakes, like every man that made them, seems I ain't the one to blame. Lying to myself, only had so much to gain, so now I’m switching up the plate, see if that affects the place, im at on most days

I ain’t going with the usual so they looking at me strange. Confused, I can feel it all, I’m here to make a change. It’s cold at 3am outside, I’m walking with the dog, thanking god that you don’t talk at all, my mind is switching off

6:54-7:12

Driving down to find myself, cuz I’ve been getting lost, lived this selfless life and found I can give a toss. Lessons that I’ve learned I’ve tried teaching to myself. What I’ve learnt from certain people is that they’re better than myself.

So I surround myself with real ones, and you feel the plastic melt. Like burning toy soldiers that used to go up on the shelf. Recycle the ideas, conveying on the belt

7:14-7:29

.. circus, always hurting the way we felt? Embarrassed that we dreamt of bigger things and letting go of notions till we feel them in cement

Tired of only hoping, we feel broken men. Cuz the gravity is weight and has kept us to the ground, see the only people speaking with favors in their mouths

7:46-7:58

Got killer rhymes… no fillers, like godzilla, eating clouds cuz my smokes thicker, throat licker, my dope sicker, bringing people their hope like im the pope slicker, i hope you’re getting the point cuz i walk quicker

I thought my city was shit bcs I want bigger like my zipper couldn’t zip up fed up with the…my love is fickle.. Residual age has a primitive face

I see demise for your limited ways, Left it to simmer, simmer away…a fake glimmer in the haze

8:09-8:11

Feeling trapped this industry is a cage

8:34-8:50

Nobody’s speaking the truth, I’m offended by the State. Look at the state of the news, I’ve decided the argument, reciting my views, while they’ve been sat in their chairs, I’m feeling pressure to choose.

Standing here as one man, how can I do half when you’re half the person I am. If it wasn’t in your life, you didn’t choose it. It’s the funny thing about music. It’s the pain and beauty of it.

8:52-9:11

Don’t give a fuck what my suit is, it looks good so I wear it, better than the shoot that People’s wearing, changing the whole narrative for these basics and scarcity

Been facing the racists from back when i were a kiddie .born up in in 93’. been living in Bradford City..kicked me out of the schools, they had a problem with me hitting the kids that would call me p*** still sitting in the classroom chilling, and i'm angry now that I’m older I see they treat us different

9:12-9:25

got me thinking I’m the problem cuz they never dealt with those issues.

20 years later I’m still in the same boat, tryna treat me like my grandpa, say I came up off the boat. Came to tell you what I stand for, man I think you’re shit, a joke. How can I be civil, when they got me by the throat

9:25-9:35

Pushing my feelings down, you ain’t got it like them

‘Boy your skin is so light’, ok motherfucker take my name up on a flight. Try to convince immigration that your bloodline’s half white.

9:35-9:45

I don’t know how that’s acceptable, when life is more susceptible to perception, be the death of them. I’ve been looking at the sky saying where’s that day of reckoning, you had your prophets right when they say that you would speak to them.

9:45-9:55

I need justice in this life and I trust that it’s my fight, cuz when I’m writing it feels right to have them focused on the facts again. Focused on the rap again, hoping for the change, gunna put this on the map again

9:55-10:16

Writing in all caps again, the pain, it goes through me so I write the letter. All the shit that could have brought me but made me better.

I’m at home with a pain in my soul , yeh rap… cuz you know I was too real to contest it, my time was invested. Now I look at the industry, I see it infested, looking like kids who would write on nesquik.

10:17-10:29

My name ain’t on the list unless they label it ethnic.

I ain’t never gave a fuck about these jokers and jesters. Ain’t no answers for these things, so just save us the questions, man allowed of violence, cuz my silence is deafening, your opinion stinks, somebody get him a breath mint.

10:30- 10:42

Start to understand why they think that I’m threatening, I move in certain ways, couldn’t slow me with ketamine Now they all wanna hear me, got a table at letterman. Direction changed, like I changed up the lettering. Don’t believe the age ,bcs I move like a veteran.

10:42 - 10:47

Raised on the benefit for whose benefit, they’ll never learn shit, man, if the shoe fits.

…no words coming out when you open your mouth

And to be honest, it’s insulting, offensive to my wounds that have been salting. Tryna ask me questions that they know I never answer. I’d rather sit online and reply to the fan art

11:00-11:06

Fuck a sports car, coming through when i rapped

tell you what I like, farm life and the tractor

11:06- 11:17

Fake life, 'sup online, suck a fat one. You don’t wanna buy into that, none of that son. Sitting in the garden 98’ in the Datsun, seen some hot summers but I still remember that sun.

*music*

11:51- 12:34

I make millions off of my pain, cause I know a few millions still living that way

Dealing with the hurt, they should know cause they don’t deserve it, it hit deep cause i hit the nerve. Only way that the sheep learn if the street firm, in my ways I don’t wanna change, everything just stay the same

Who you tryna convince you understand, cant maintain, let the lights dim some, get the Chow Mein, flex, get the tape, right up at night

Why these men be nice to my face, be nice, i ain’t tryna be a gangsta ruins my vibe

Rather be low-key and on my phone. Never need the trophy or the show piece

Never show peace in a North Face fleece. Show kids this like i wrote my flip

Cause the sign might fit till the start i’m sick

12:37-13:05

Now you see where I come from, the world don’t. Only achievement in this life is the Jordans. Committing petty crimes out of boredom, we can’t afford them. So I stole it, need a rolex

Go make sense, get yourself a job, It’s a poor man’s game tryna sit and pray to god, he ain’t sorting out your problems, gotta sort them out yourself

Used to tell us fables, now I’m writing them myself, Cause we raw like animals we all just need some help

Cathartic, I’m an artist, trying to put my heart in

Felt double crossed like Leo in Departed

13:05- 13:27

For the knowledge i’m not charging see I got it all free

But my hunger kept me starving like i’m feening for the feed

I just Need a reason to see me bleeding for my creed. Trick you with the words like I keep em up my sleeve. Picking where I fit, I see me sitting with the queen

I ain’t doing it unless you’re used to saying please

Let me flow a bit, before I sting 'em with the bees, They tryna kill us with disease

(Music)

13:34- 14:12

Why does it feel like they had the same notebook and the same four looks

Like the rain won't touch on their face, so sus when they lie don’t trust not a minor

Please no fuss, I just move through the game like must

Something in the way i adjust till i stick, Free falling like the ship, free fall till i bust

Remember 21 brother gave no fucks. Trying to project when they give them looks

In the projects, in the objects us

In my own way, never gave me love, shoulda never started this, broken hearted kid

Dried up the feeling till I stole the lid

Don’t wanna relish in the fame but I can’t resist

14:46-14:58

I like the way we feel, I like the way, I like the way

Ain’t no mistake, i am a being

I ain’t tryna be a leader, been selling out since Jesus

All my rhymes are for the readers, between the lines, like Father time, I fuck Mother Nature

14:58-15:40

That’s what they get, the connotations. Tell 'em I lived a life, and then I lived a life of adjacent? like its…. and played it patient.

Alone on my own spaceship, always tryna find greatness, still defying lines, but I’m fighting in my prime.

Shining light like Kylo while imma kill it all the time. Aging like I’m wine

Asian in my face, but still my race you can’t define. Focused on defiance, imma fight it while it’s life.

Started something sick and on my mind is what’s next, just became a dad so now I’m taking all the cheques. Better know I’m staying and paying like it’s debt. Imma get it done, if it’s taking all my breath, sweat, and down I ain’t messing around til I’m the best

Speaking in full sentences, shoulda thought about a strategy before you went at the stratosphere about this… rings around Saturn, this ain’t a battle, I’m sat, I’m here

15:40-16:22

Catch me doing magic, hired and sounding tragic I think you could use practice and until that you get the blacklist and pull like a … actress? Fooling them like a catfish, schooling like a legend, happy to be the reference, fusing like iridescence, leaving them all guessing, leaking out of my brain like a pipe I aint fixing, shining like a star you can see it from a distance

Aint many of me around p*** I’m just different Certain stages to this level aint here because fame is to the devil fuck a label, imma do this from the ghetto, clean up like Im Dettol

I’m the man to put a bet on, sight smart like a weapon, this is my kind of setting, i write the world I’m sat in, while these others live on hype, i see them fight in how they type, the fruit is ripe for the taking, i think i might

16:22-16:57

Let me take you away from here, Let me take you away from here, Let me take you away from here

16:58- 17:47

Eccentric things are mentioned like a kid stuck in detention tryna escape im just spitting what is written on the next page, spitting image of my dad in his young days

Born sinner when i’m livid i say fucks sake

Don’t worry i’m too cunning with no plumbing, the waterworks, i sung something that resonates, i thought it first like giving birth to the parrot perch

They see me do it and they know it works

Don’t know what’s worse: the way that you live your life or the way that you write a verse

You’ll be nervous, you don’t deserve it we’ll scratch the surface ill leave a crater, lift the dirt up to find the hurting

Can’t know for certain nothing is guaranteed, tryna be a better person than the world deserves to see cuz i see a lot of sharks still swimming in the sea

Cease and arrest what’s the reason.. And these the kinda kids we bringing up next

Distorted reality, all they needed was family, too hard to face, to see what the damage is

17:47

*i don’t wanna be, i don’t wanna be, a part of this, no, i don’t wanna be, i don’t wanna be, a part of this, *

18:04-18:38

Sometimes they ask the questions too deep to form a sentence, to disform, is this the norm, is this the sentence i feel defenseless i played the setlist, and all my sweat blood and tears, forgot to mention feeling lost, going off into different sections i feel like love wrecked it

If it’s not a drug why am i waiting for the next fix, affected, i cant believe that you left this

I guess I leave for the best wish, moving on like im fine for the lectures

We see it all from spectrums, cuz if we’re falling down we can fall down together

Staircase to heaven, mirror down the middle like 11, resentment on one side it won’t settle

18:38- 19:14

Mind fried but taking sense, they aint got a sense of themselves in the rich ends

Need to spell it out for them.. Made for them so witness

I know you feel afflicted but you always love it with me while im laughing at you, ya think you’re laughing with me

I try to (i love you) but im grown so they don’t fit me, my body thrown from the new to this old city so Im sick of sitting on my own, feeling so shitty, i’ve been on roads where its cold and the snow hitting

Its okay to be yourself, sit and talking to myself

I’ve been walking for the longest, just need a little rest, know i ain’t the strongest, I can feel it in my chest, talking about my feelings and of me, they get the best

19:14-19:59

They aint leaving, seeing breathing in my breath

Till death do us part is just seeded in my heart, like a work of art

Never winning,im just scared

Cant begin from the start, do i play a part in the rhythm of the night

I guess i’m onto something cuz the dark is feeling right

Every cloud got a lining, put my own miles in, like moralis, figured that they’re jealous, that they could just never tell us to change because the weather never made me question whether or not i’m not that level

Got rid of all the bullshit sitting in my way, most of them are full of shit i see it every day

I do hearing the same things that i do, maybe that shits hitting like haiku

How much do you pay for them to hype you

Recycle your flaws but they aint like new, leaving and conceded and full of diesel like engines that need a cleaning, the ending will be revealing. Even though we ain’t raising the facts, now we been facing.

20:01-20:52

The cactus with spikes, needing spaces. Different faces, the same story. A full body like straight body direct to your system.

Could never tell 'em we missed’ em. Not even with the thoughts, we gift them. Cuz they just take advantage, guess we are caught in a system.

My soul pouring out details of borrowed time, had enough of a fill, this is for sorrow time. I’m seeing visions of Heaven, I seen the severed line, between the gospel they speak and when theyre telling lies.

Remember telling a friend of mine, you’d sent of mine, identified like a 3rd eye. Got a habit of knowing now where the dirt lies. So benign. I ain’t sober after 9, so I fuck their minds. Why you flipping out, see another

Try to rep it from the city, fuck a chiller crew, repping for the nittys, trying to keep us down, raised on the social, don’t want to let us out of the system. Me, I insist we assist them, me alone putting shifts til I lift them

20:53-21:12

I know it’s hard, that’s why I like it, I’m fit to fight it, I’m from the North, I’m backing Tyson, it’s been decided, don’t see no light. They needing guiding, just redefining, realizing, I’m realigning, in full finance, they stay silenced.

Can’t be louder, I’m juiced up with no powder. I fix shit like a slick spanner. Gone green like Bruce Banner. So free Gaza on my banner

21:12-21:51

The real McCoy, I ain’t nothing to toy with, signifying peace like a Japanese Koi Fish. How did this happen, we’re moving backwards in our timeline, killing us with cyanide, Right up for the freedom 'til we transform like Ironhide

This is bout my feelings, the way that I move affects the fate that I’m sealing. Can’t say nothing, with that something being on the page, kept inside the pen like the bars that have been kept caged. See I always had a plan, since I was young, we had nothing man

Now it’s been a few years since I ain’t seen the fam, on foreign lands. Bout to climb Everest in the avalanche. Right into the riddles as soon as you were born. Never asking the question cuz it’s the norm. See I’m in a questionin’ session

21:52-22:03

Like the manner got a method to teaching a lesson, listen to MF Doom, he taught me like Ra’s Al Ghul. Felt like living in Gotham, the people were rotten. Still we play cartoons so it’s never forgotten.

22:03-22:15

Chilling at the top but we came from the bottom. Writing and jottin for them life by, spotting the difference

*Dreams, was growing out of me, sun promising that tomorrow it will rise, time playing games with my mind, I swear it will pass us by

Train goes on the tracks, smoke, I’m tired to hide my thoughts, so blinded in flames, Don’t know where we’re going, I have no way of knowing, only see what’s in my head

Can’t we wait a minute, so we can savour this, It’s on my brain again, these days, It on my brain again these days”

23:10-23:46

They’re hating on Palestine ways, The oh no Palace playing Prince on the Steinway, Sending out mind waves, stop them like crimewaves, Freedom fighter, Yellow Metal is my name

Like vipers, I see the sly ones, the snake that’s called Biden, none of them abiding what they might put in writing

We should be used to it by now, say whatever for the vote and then just choose another route, say they’d never kill another unless that brother’s skin is brown

I’m just telling you the facts, if you can’t take it, the truth naked, to bare bones and my thoughts lately, spitting politics.. Done ain’t it, Shit just gets me vexed, and now I’m sitting that I think of it

23:45-23:59

Feeling on the brink of it, whatever it is, Figure out some shit at least it feels that way

talk about my feelings and I don’t feel so strange, finding solace, that’s a promise, in Metropolis but being honest, can’t write a sonnet, without some pain

24:00-24:40

Can’t fade away, away so we can savour this, been on my brain again these days

Can't find a way to be so you can savour this, been on my brain these days

Singing the song for another, singing a song for another

#zayn #yellowmetal #cathartic #feel free to correct me pls #cathartic lyrics

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robotsprinkles · 2 years ago

Text

Analysing the Evolution of Destiny‘s Art Style, Prelude 4: A random note on asset recycling

(Oh boy it’s been a while)

(Uni’s been a lot)

So.

I realise this is probably something quite well known to many, but I’m quite stupid, so.

A while ago I realised that the rear cuisse plate that wraps around the lower thigh on Kabr’s Forceful Greaves is the same Bit as the spauldrons on gatewatch type 3 and 4, and that the Infinite Lines/Prodigal Titan greave’s cuisses are the same Bit as the spauldrons on the Hardcase Brawlers in D2.

So now I’ve decided to make a list of all the common bits/assets that get reused in interesting ways in different armour pieces (interesting as in “used in different ways” like a Bit being used as a spaulder on a gauntlet and being used as a codpiece on a pair of greaves, or a Bit that normally gets used on chestplates being used on the faceplate of a helmet)

Anyway, the basic point of this post is this:

People used to complain all the time about D1′s constant recycling of assets for weapons and armour, but now that they’ve moved to bashing on D2′s art/design style and claiming D1′s was perfect/is superior, there’s a significant amount of people who say D1′s recycling of assets was the main reason its designs were better because it made everything feel like it all belonged to the same world/fit together/etc .

(This is the same argument some people have made about halo 4 and 5, where they claim H3 and Reach had better customisation because their nature as an “everything works off the same base, the only full replacement you get is shoulders, knees, and helmets, and everything else is just an attachment to the base spartan” type deal made every spartan look like they still belonged to the same group — something along those lines, I’ll find the posts about it at a later point)

Now, the thing is, (as already indicated above) there’s more than one type of asset recycling D1 uses

There’s “asset recycling” in the sense of bungie reusing the same arrangement (helm, chestplate, gun, etc) with the only difference being in its colour scheme/dye layout

There’s “asset recycling” in the sense of bungie reusing the same core arrangement with some minor tooling differences (some shotgun shells here, a grenade there, maybe some extra minor superficial panelling, etc)

And then there’s “asset recycling” in the sense of bungie reusing individual bits and minor BoBs (armor plates, belts, etc) in different places and ways on different armour pieces

I’m personally not particularly fond of the first. I understand why someone might like it; namely, because sometimes you get an armour piece that, model-wise, looks great, but doesn’t go well with your current colour scheme (even with shaders), but the other piece that’s the same model with a different dye layout does. However, I really think the better solution for that issue would’ve been for bungie to just give every armour piece multiple dye layouts that a person could switch between and apply shaders to. That said, I’m not particularly opposed to this form of asset recycling if there’s a major difference in how the colours/dyes are applied (like faction logos, paint patterns (think raku gwener type 1), etc)

The second I’m actually not particularly opposed to. In fact, I quite like it. I do wish bungie hadn’t used it for armour sets and pieces from different patterns though (for example, arihant type 3 and 4 having the same model as mycanae type 0). I think this type works best when it’s used for different versions of the same armour pattern.

The third is my favourite, mostly because I really like seeing how bungie’s artists managed to use the same bit/BoB for completely different armour pieces and types and have it both look good/like it belongs there and not have it be immediately obvious what they’ve done (usually, at least)

some examples of the third type under the cut:

the little armour plate that wraps around the back of the thigh on kabr’s greaves is the same bit used for the gatewatch type 3 and 4 gauntlet spauldrons and gauntlets, and also the same bit used for the forehead plate on the firebreak type 2 helmet

The stratus 3.0b grips’ left spaulder is the same as the codpiece on the fieldplate greaves, and stratus 3.0′s left spaulder is the same bit as the overplate cuisse on firebreak and gatewatch type 2 greaves

And for an example of this in D2, the cuisses/thighplates on the prodigal titan/infinite lines/etc greaves is the same piece as the spauldrons on the hardcase brawlers is (almost the same piece) as the spauldrons on the intrepid explorer gauntlets (except on intrepid explorer they’ve been mesh deformed or something to conform to the arm’s shape)

(no images for this because I’m lazy and don’t want to boot up d2, but I’ll have actual images for all this in the actual writeups)

also this bit

(the isosceles trapezium thing) gets reused everywhere (not literally, obviously. But I’d be willing to bet it’s one of if not the most common bit across all armour pieces)

#Robot analyses Destiny's artstyle #Destiny #Destiny the game #Robot's Rambles #This has been sitting in my drafts for ages #(edited it to add some stuff shortly before posting)#so if this reads like a mess that's probably why #also if the thing about the third type of asset recycling has been a well known thing for ages #and I'm just. massively behind on this (which I wouldn't be surprised if that's the case)#sorry I am big dumb

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breelandwalker · 4 years ago

Note

Do you know spells for justice or protection for other people? Like the protesters?

I know a few, but it’s difficult to pick one exactly. Here’s everything I could find in my personal spellbook that I thought might be applicable.

Ninja Dust

Intent: To enable a person to make a quick unseen exit or go unnoticed; formulated to work in crowded places.

Ingredients:

1 pt White Oak

1 pt Bloodroot

1 pt Black Salt

1 pt Red Poppy

1 pt Mustard

1/2 pt Rosemary

1/2 pt Sage

1/2 pt Clove

1/2 pt Willow Bark

Optional:

Pinch of Galangal Root

Pinch of Heather Blossom

Pinch of Devil's Shoestring

Pinch of Black Cohosh

This powder was prepared for a friend of mine the night before she attended a large-scale protest march. It's meant to help you stay safe in a crowded situations and affect a quick exit when and if you have to.

Sprinkle a pinch or two on your shoes before you go out, or carry a small vial or packet with you. If you find yourself in a situation where you need to leave quickly, toss down the powder and step on it as you leave.

Of course, this should always go along with whatever practical safety measures are deemed prudent for your situation. If you find yourself in a position where you are in immediate physical danger, forget the powder, just get to safety however you can. Be careful out there!

Liza Hempstock’s Invisibility Charm

Inspired by The Graveyard Book, by Neil Gaiman.

Use this charm when you want to pass unseen and unremarked in a crowd or need to escape a situation without being noticed.

Put a pinch of poppy seeds in your shoe or carry a packet of them in your pocket. When you need to make a quick exit, turn three times, spit over your left shoulder, and whisper:

Be hole, be dust, be dream, be wind Be night, be dark, be wish, be mind, Now slip, now slide, now move unseen, Above, beneath, betwixt, between

Gather yourself together, find your exit, and GO.

No Fear Here

To help dispel fear, ward off danger, and promote bravery. This blend is meant for a home ornament witchball, but it can also be put into a sachet or a bottle charm if mobile magic is needed.

Agrimony

Yarrow

Black Pepper

Thyme

Jasmine

Black Tea Leaves

Walking Ward Protection Oil

For personal warding spells of all kinds

Sweet Basil

Witch Hazel

Fennel Sprigs

Mix the herbs in equal parts and soak 1 tbsp of the blend in 1-2 cups of bland oil for about a week to make the infusion. Strain and bottle the oil. If desired, add a couple of drops of Basil or Rosemary essential oil.

Short Notice Travel Protection Charm

If you're called to make an unexpected trip and don't have time to prepare a full-sized bottle charm, making a braid or knot-string out of white yarn or string. As you tie it, say seven times over:

By water and fire, by sky and by stone, This charm will see me brought safely back home.

Tie the string around your wrist or ankle for the duration of the trip. You can remove it when you return home or let it fall off on its' own.

"Bibbity Bobbity Back Off" Banishing Spell

This spell grew out of a quip that I made in response to some hate mail that came my way. Some weeks of experimenting with word-activated protection magics later, this is what I came up with.

Intent: To repel or banish harmful things that attempt to accost you.

Materials:

Piece of Personal Jewelry

Small Jar with Flat Lid

Tealight Candle

Herbs: Angelica Root, Peppermint, Marjoram, Willow Bark

Make a potpourri blend out of the herbs and place it in the jar. For extra potency, spit in the jar. Place the piece of jewelry in the jar, close the lid, and shake gently. Set the jar somewhere level and safe, set the tealight on top of the lid, and burn it for a few minutes.

Focus on the flame of the tealight and chant, as many times as you feel you need to:

I cannot be snared, I cannot be caught However you try, no harm is wrought

When you've finished, blow out the candle. Wait for the candle cup and the lid to cool before opening the jar. Retrieve the jewelry and wear it when you need a little extra protection.

Should you need to activate the protection, simply breathe on your fingers, touch the charmed object, and whisper, "Invictus." (Latin, pron. in-VIK-toos; “invincible.”) The charm will last until you remove the piece and breathe on it again. You'll need to return it to the jar of herbs to recharge within 24 hours of use, or you'll have to cast the charm all over again. For best results, I recommend changing the herbs in the jar between charges.

This is a short-term heavy-duty banishing spell. It can't ensure physical safety, but it can help keep you safe from emotional and mental attack, and may provide an opportunity for escape if one is needed. It may also diffuse aggressive outside energy long enough for you to make a prudently-timed getaway if a confrontation seems imminent.

"Not On My Watch" Vinegar

Intent: An all-purpose preventative potion for use in protective and binding spells.

Ingredients:

Jar with Tight-fitting Lid

2 cups Vinegar

Coffee Filter

Funnel

Bottle for Storage

Knife and Cutting Board

Fresh Ginger or Horseradish Root

Peppermint Essential Oil

Herbs: Bay Leaves, Coriander, Lemon Peel, Cedar Tips, Pine Needles, Witch Hazel, Clover Leaves

This is a heavy-duty protective vinegar that I created in a fit of rage. If the ingredient list seems excessive, it's because I was angry enough about the situation to basically throw the book at it. I've used it a few times since then and it's been very effective.

To make this potion, you'll need a jar with a tight-fitting lid. A large brand-new mason jar is best for this. For some other spells and potions, you can use recycled food jars, but for this one, you want a fresh jar with no chance of leftover food particles.

First, clean your piece of ginger or horseradish root. For best results, you'll want a fresh root, not dried pieces, as you want the juice and oils to blend with the vinegar. Cut several slices from the root and place them in the mason jar. Wash and dry the knife before continuing.

Note: Fresh horseradish root has a very strong peppery-sour smell, and can produce fumes like onions do. The fumes may cause your nose to run and may irritate your eyes. (It's a great way to clear the sinuses though.) If you are sensitive to such things, you may want to wear a surgical mask and goggles, or just use ginger root instead.

To help your herbs fit more easily into the jar, you may want to carefully dice them into smaller, more manageable pieces. You can work with fresh or dried herbs for this potion, whichever works best with your available supplies. If you want additional aromatic qualities in your potion, I recommend using fresh Lemon Peel, Cedar Tips, and Pine Needles if possible. It adds a nice fresh, clean scent, a little bit like a certain name-brand floor cleaner, but less chemical. Using fresh versions of these ingredients will also help to cut the vinegar smell to a certain degree. But again, if you only have dried herbs, that will work just as well.

Dried or fresh, you'll need approximately 2 ½ ounces of chopped herbs altogether. That's about five tablespoons or 71 grams of herbs. Mix them together and add them to the jar. If you've used fresh herbs, you'll need to dry or discard any leftovers. If you used only dried herbs, put any extra mix into a container for future use. Waste not, want not.

Add two cups of vinegar to the jar. I used white vinegar, but cider vinegar or wine vinegar will do as well. Use whatever you have available. White vinegar may be less expensive, if you need to purchase a fresh bottle. Add 2-3 drops of Peppermint essential oil, close the lid tightly, and give the jar a good shake.

Leave the vinegar jar in a warm, dry place to steep for three full days. Strain the resulting liquid into a clean bottle using a funnel and coffee filter, and discard the herbs. The mason jar can be used again after it has been thoroughly cleaned and dried.

Use the potion in home protection magics, particularly if you need to repel unsavory persons, "accidents" which are not at all accidental, or harmful magics. It can also be an additive in spells meant to make the home a sanctuary for those who need it. Add a small amount to your washwater when you clean hard floors or your doorstep for additional protection. Splash a little on your front door or at your property line to discourage trespassers.

(I’m sure this could be put to use for keeping yourself safe during protests, keeping cops away from your home, blessing marchers and venues, and so forth.)

I’ll try and search up my post with magical measures for justice as well.

Hope this helps!

#halethebop #witchcraft #witchcraft activism #protection magic #Bree answers your inquiries

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chakazard · 3 years ago

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The enduring image we have of Lou Reed is that of the ultimate cold, cruel, New York asshole, sunglasses hiding the absence of feeling in his eyes and leather jacket approximating the skin so thick it might as well not be there. But his songs tell a tale of uncertainty, of deep emotions, of an inner identity that is constantly struggling with the outer. Sometimes fitting a bit too well, sometimes never further, and always pinging back to the other extreme when it’s afraid it’s gone too far. His songwriting has had a major effect on generations of people in similar boats, seeking themselves in the reflections of others, forcing on images that never fit quite right no matter how much they are adjusted.

First, take the songs that Nico sings on that brilliant first album. Although none were necessarily written for her, it’s hard not to imagine that Lou allowed her to sing the songs that he had written that resonated with him due to their relationship. Femme Fatale is as much about the insecurity of the fool who falls for the cold allure as it is about the woman herself. All Tomorrow’s Parties is about a costume that the poor girl wears (a clown, like the other character in Femme Fatale), in a vain attempt to stave off sorrow. And the amazing I’ll Be Your Mirror, shows two characters entwined. Nico is singing Lou’s words and displacing him as the face of his art. In this song he projects his insecurity on the other, and promises to prop her up. This is the infinite reflection of humanity. This is describing your pain as someone else’s. This is a song of self reflection wrapped up as a love song. Is it the mirror or the reflection, and which are you? It’s trying to find a way to love yourself by loving someone else more and hoping that bounces back to you like the sun light bouncing off the moon. But of course that fails as well, because that displaced care never does bounce back. And the relationship is spoiled, Lou resents Nico for taking his songs, Nico resents Lou for his jealousy, Nico leaves him for John Cale and Lou sees like he’s taken this artsy weirdo persona as far as it's going to go and pings in the opposite direction, swimming straight into the arms of sweet old hard and dirty rock and roll.

Lou Reed was a master of burying his feelings under something or someone else so he’d always have the plausible deniability necessary to remain cool. To remain outside. Just observing, man. Just telling you how fucked you are, man. Look at Heroin. Here’s the secret, which isn’t much of one if you’ve been reading. The song ain’t about drugs. That’s just a nice drone to get the receptors in your brain and skin tuned in so either you miss the point completely or you get absolutely hit over the head with it. It’s about isolation (away from the big city/where a man cannot be free), it’s about not being able to accept who you are (i wish that i was born a thousand years ago), it’s about trying to escape the disgust of being an empathic person in a world that just keeps breaking everyone but you can’t let anyone know so you dress it up in a costume just like Thursday’s girl. Just like Lou.

The brilliant device of the “Somebody Says” songs. You don’t think “Candy Says” was a vehicle for Lou Reed to explore his relationship with his own body and gender? You don’t think “Lisa Says” is another exploration of Lou’s insecurity? You don’t think “Stephanie Says” is about Lou feeling again rejected and isolated and that it is either caused by his Alaskan iciness, or results from it, or both to the point that s/he’s stuck between worlds? The song itself gets recycled from Stephanie into Caroline, with added weight and age that slow it down. But identities were meant to be recycled.

I don’t know maybe I’m projecting myself onto Lou too much here. But there’s so much in the songs it’s hard not to. Sterling Morrison couldn’t play on Pale Blue Eyes because of the overwhelming personal emotion. Even though the girl’s eyes weren’t blue. It’s another, trivial deflection that still puts the space between the truth of the situation and the art. Or maybe, i don’t know man, it just sounds better. Rock n’ roll is about sound as much as anything else. If it were just about the words we’d call it literature and then we’d all be in trouble. Imagine having to study this shit in school? What a drag.

The Lou Reed persona in the Velvet Underground ended up being just that, armor that anyone could slide into, or at least Doug Yule did when Lou pinged right out of the rock’n’roll world altogether and got a nondescript office job after leaving the band. One of my favorite stories of rock lore is Bowie going to see the Velvets and gushing over getting to meet Lou, only it’s not Lou it’s Doug. Lou just shed his skin enough intact for someone else to put it on. Because it’s the weight he just couldn’t take anymore. Any identity becomes a weight when it stops ringing true and it’s more about the expectation of the costume than it is about the person and their feelings. And when you can’t even let on that you have feelings in the first place it’s all going to be too much.

To touch on two of Lou’s descendants before I wrap it up.

Michael Stipe, intentionally or not, inherited the trick of hiding your psychological self-examination in songs that are dressed up as if they’re about someone else. Be Mine is so akin to I’ll Be Your Mirror, it’s trying to be a love song, but the narrator can’t escape their own reflection and almost every line has an I, not a you. Crush With Eyeliner uses an object of affection as an excuse to play with one’s own identity without having to admit you’re actually trying to be sincere and find yourself. You’d expect a love song to be called At Your Most Beautiful. Stipe writes At My Most Beautiful. So many examples. Seeking yourself in the light of another and never getting there because you’re not looking directly on.

Ezra Furman titles the first chapter of their book on Lou Reed’s Transformer “Fuck You Leave Me Alone Don’t Read My Book.” A similar sentiment to her song “Come Here, Get Away From Me.” They’re Lisa, craving affection but looking down on anyone who would give it to her. She’s Stephanie, losing everyone because she’s cold and distant or being cold and distant because everyone left. Ezra says “One of the things Lou Reed and I have in common is an eagerness to look to others for behavioral guidelines...You’re hiding your real self- or...don’t know if you even have a real self--so you become purely a reaction to other people.” And goes on to quote Lou “When I’m not (writing) I’m just kind of empty, I don’t have a personality of my own, I just pick up other people’s personalities.” And I felt that too.

I don’t know who I am underneath everything. Like Courtney Barnett “I take pieces of myself from everyone around me/I’m not individual enough for you.” Maybe in these songs I can find something I can hang my skin on and examine it enough until I know who’s underneath. Or maybe they’re just rock ‘n roll. I don’t know myself but I hear that can save a life. And you know it was all right.

#lou reed #ezra furman #identity #rock n roll #chak n roll

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thetypedwriter · 3 years ago

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A Curse So Dark and Lonely Book Review

A Curse So Dark and Lonely Book Review by Brigid Kemmerer

My gosh, I feel like I have enormous feelings about this book.

So, I had seen this book for awhile bestow the shelves at Barnes & Noble and while it drew the eye, it also didn’t entice me right away. I must have read snippets of the backside summary a dozen times before I finally succumbed and purchased it when the store was having a buy one, get one 50% off deal.

Lame, I know.

That being said, A Curse So Dark and Lonely surprised me in a lot of pleasant ways and at the end of the experience it was a book I genuinely enjoyed reading, despite the flaws throughout.

First off, somehow, in ways that I don’t even fully understand, I did not realize that this was a retelling of Beauty and the Beast.

You might ask, seeing the title, the reviews on the back literally calling it a retelling of a classic fairytale, the summary itself, and the basic premise, how did I not realize what the true nature of this book was?

I genuinely have no idea.

I really don’t.

It’s so flabbergasting that I don’t even have a proper answer for you other than Beauty and the Beast was not my favorite Disney movie growing up and that I probably should have spent more time checking out what bargain books to buy before I laid down the cash.

Oh well.

That being said, retellings of classic fairy tales has been a fairly popular phenomenon in the YA literature scene (and popular culture as a whole, really) for the last couple of years and while I can see the appeal, it was never something that beckoned me.

I’m not a huge fairytale fan to begin with so a retelling of the original doesn’t hold much sway in terms of intrigue and buy-in.

If I had known what A Curse So Dark and Lonely truly was, I never would have bought it. Frankly, it’s a little sad because I genuinely would have missed out on a very fun and engaging read. Fortunately enough, however, my dumb actions actually paid off in good luck this time around.

The whole premise is exactly what you’ve probably surmised up to this point: an enumeration of Beauty and the Beast with some modern fanfare and twists and turns along the way.

Rhen is the current Crown Prince of Emberall, a country in some parallel world to the one that you and I currently exist in. With a series of twists, the main protagonist, Harper, is unwillingly hoisted from her homeland of Washington D.C. to the magical world of Emberfall, which unfortunately is not all that magical with a looming war on the horizon involving a neighboring nation, rumors of a savage beast that has wreaked havoc on the country, and a wicked witch that delights in torment and carnage to sadistic glee.

Soon enough, a high school dropout with cerebral palsy soon finds herself in the imaginary role as the Princess of Disi, an allying nation that has promised aid and troops to Emberfall and potentially betrothed to the Crown Prince, Rhen.

To make matters more complicated, Harper finds herself often in the company of Grey, the lone soldier of the Royal Guard and Rhen’s constant shadow, a figure she soon begins to trust despite herself.

With a war on the horizon, the ever-present threat of the witch Lillith, the haunting promise of the beast’s return, and evolving feelings, A Curse So Dark and Lonely is a lovely concoction of both fast-paced action, romance, humor, and fantasy. This whole book gave me a pleasant buzz from start to finish.

The plot itself, while recycled at its core, is fresh enough with the modern flare of Harper being from D.C. (Disi-this still makes me laugh), representation in the form of a character with a disability like cerebral palsy, interesting and complex relationships, and opposing enough with the threat of Lillith and future battles that it never seemed pithy or banal.

While the world building is...mediocre, I don’t think it was amazing nor do I think it’s awful, it’s a useful enough background for the characters and their emotions to take place, which honestly is the real focus throughout the entire novel (although the author did take some liberties by inputting in things like the castle automatically regenerating food-how much more deus ex machina can you get?).

Kemmerer’s writing style is also fine. Nothing groundbreaking, but also not writing I find abhorrent or even unlikeable. She comes across as a typical YA author to me in terms of her vocabulary, her figurative language, and her writing style.

The real focus, if you haven’t caught on by now, are the characters.

I genuinely like all three main characters quite a bit, which, if you regularly read my reviews, is quite the anomaly.

Rhen I find to be strangely complex. While he fits the mold of the brooding, arrogant prince that actually cares deeply for his people and his country quite well, I also found him more interesting than just the archetype of the royal son.

He’s surly, dark, and quite temperamental. While he does care deeply about his people, he’s often selfish and petty. Honestly, he shouldn’t be very likable at all, but it’s for that reason alone that I do like him.

I like that while he might be a good ruler he’s not necessarily a good person and I like the dichotomy and the conflict that implicitly comes with that struggle, a struggle often shown to the readers and the two other characters he’s closest with: Harper and Grey.

In addition, often in YA I feel like authors constantly feel pressured to make romantic love interests “perfect” which to me, translates to being stereotypical and boring. Very often my favorite characters are the ones who are flawed and complicated-just like Rhen.

Grey is also a character that I thought would be more simple than he actually turned out to be. I originally thought Grey was going to be the stoic, soldier type and while he is, I also really enjoyed seeing his lighter side, his sense of humor, his love for children, and the deadly loyalty that binds him not because of a curse or a spell, but because of his own stubbornness and dedication to the decision that he made and the refusal to break it.

I found this honor code fascinating and his adherence to it almost obsessive. His loyalty to Rhen is both baffling and intriguing and often it was the best part of the novel for me.

Which brings me to my next point: Rhen and Grey’s relationship is hand’s down the best part of this book. It’s a complicated relationship and, therefore, really fascinating to read about it. They have a serpentine history involving Grey being the one to let Lillith into Rhen’s chambers which sets off the whole curse business in the first place.

However, as Rhen says later on in the book, it was his choice to keep Lillith overnight and to pursue romance, not Grey’s.

There is guilt, blame, affection, loyalty, ownership, friendship, frustration, anger, sacrifice and more to their relationship. Their history stops them from being true friends, as do their roles as prince and guard, yet they are the only companion the other has for seasons upon seasons.

At the end of the day, Grey is all Rhen had for a very long time and it shows.

Their relationship was always so engrossing to read about due to its complications and its nuances. Very few YA relationships, especially that of platonic male friendship, gets even near the level of depth and grey (I couldn’t help this pun) area shown between Grey and Rhen. Their relationship alone is a huge draw for why I found this novel so captivating.

I did wonder for a while if perhaps there were more than platonic feelings involved, but I could never quite put my finger on the true nature of their relationship or their feelings towards each other, which I find absolutely amazing. Their relationship is messy and complicated, just like real life relationships are.

That leaves the third piece of the puzzle: Harper.

Out of the three main characters, I like Harper the least, but I do still like her. I like that she’s strong and tenacious, not in spite of her cerebral palsy, but in addition to her already present bravery and ferocity. She’s headstrong, stubborn, kind, merciful, and compassionate.

My dislike from Harper stems from the fact that she’s a little too perfect, especially compared to Rhen and Grey, who I found to be much more convoluted characters.

Again, harping (hahah) back to stereotypical YA, other than her cerebral palsy, I don’t think there’s anything in particular about Harper that makes her complicated, flawed, or especially interesting.

She’s a good girl willing to give it all up for a country she’s only known for a few weeks even though her mother’s dying at home and her brother is most likely involved in some kind of gang violence.

The best scenes with Harper are the scenes were she is struggling to choose between the two worlds and weighing her options, as at some points it does depict her as selfish and wanting to go home, even though she knows it would doom thousands of people.

But of course, this is all taken care of later when she realizes D.C. isn’t her true home any more and that Emberfall has become where her heart lies.

Lame.

Kemmerer made Harper just a little too pristine for my liking, which is why she ranks lower than both Rhen and Grey when on paper she is by far the best in terms of personality and character traits.

This especially grates on me when Kemmerer tells us that Harper is fantastic instead of letting us glean that for ourselves. I really dislike when an author tells me instead of shows me that someone is brave or kind or amazing or whatnot and I feel like there were enough instances of Harper being all of those things without having needed Rhen or Grey to point it out all of the time.

I also do feel like there is some weird shaming regarding things typically seen as “feminine” in relation to Harper and why that makes her “better.” For example, Rhen talks often about how no girl ever has ever done what Harper has done, like attacking him.

I’m sorry? You’re telling me that Grey has kidnapped hundreds of girls and not one of them before Harper tried to attack them? In any form? Really?

I find that preposterous.

Other instances of Harper being unique in this fashion is also sprinkled in, like how most girls apparently only care about the dresses and the jewels in the castle, but not Harper. Or how most girls would be crying from a scar on their cheek, but Harper is just upset that she misses her target.

I get what Kemmerer is going for, but these force-fed characterizations really bothered me and were the most irritating thing about the book.

Being feminine or caring about stereotypically feminine things like jewelry or dresses does not mean that someone can’t also be strong and brave and fierce. I dislike a lot of the subliminal messages in the novel in regards to that.

In terms of romance, again I have to ask myself when the trope of the love triangle will die. Perhaps it never will. Perhaps it will live on for eternity, forever immortal and present in nearly 90% of YA literature.

The love triangle between Grey, Rhen, and Harper doesn’t bother me so much in this novel as I feel like it isn’t truly focused on very much, which I appreciate. I understand that Harper has feelings for both Grey and Rhen, but her feelings make sense. I don’t feel like Kemmerer is just foisting a love triangle onto the readers for the sake of having a love triangle.

It felt somehow...natural.

In addition, most love triangles suck as they’re very one sided, usually in terms of the female’s POV.

In this case however, the love triangle is influenced by Grey and Rhen’s relationship, where the lines are very blurry and for a good portion of the book I thought perhaps they were in love with each other and Harper.

Frankly, I would have been ecstatic if this was the route Kemmerer had taken. Not many YA authors go down this route, but examples like Mark/Cristina/Keiran from The Infernal Devices and Niall/Irial/Leslie from Ink Exchange are actually the only examples I know from YA literature so this would have been so welcome and anticipated.

If Kemmerer had gone down the route of looking into a polyamorous relationship I would have been over the moon. I don’t think she is sadly, but polyamrous relationships are still so few and far between in YA that it would have been utterly captivating, especially as she has all the ingredients to do so.

Or, I thought she did.

Until it’s revealed at the very end that Rhen and Grey are brothers. Or, at least half-brothers.

Yeah.

It’s super unfortunate.

I’m genuinely disappointed that this is the route Kemmerer decided to take it as it seems so grossly safe. It’s almost like an intense male/male relationship can’t exist unless it’s romantic or they’re brothers and I despise that.

Hence, why I have also decided that I won’t be reading A Heart so Fierce and Broken. I want to keep the memory and the interesting relationships between the three characters as it is: interesting.

I have a very strong feeling that if I read the sequel that will all be shattered.

When all is said and done, I really enjoyed this book. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to reading it and I wasn’t expecting very much, but it met all of my expectations and more.

I am sad that I won’t be finishing the series as a whole, but I know that the direction it's going will only make me frustrated and annoyed and I would rather preserve the positive emotions attached to A Curse So Dark and Lonely than ruin it with a sequel that I know won’t meet the expectations I have.

Perhaps that’s unfair to say, and rightly so, but I know myself and I can see where the sequel is going and I’m almost certain that I won’t like it.

So in this case, I’m going to quit while I’m ahead and savor the moments I had reading this novel in all its fairy-telling glory.

Recommendation: If you love Beauty and the Beast, fairytales with a modern twist, interesting characters and interesting relationships set in a fantasy world where the music never stops playing and a savage beast runs rampant, than this book is calling for you.

I didn’t know that I needed this novel in my life and now I’m so glad that it is. Captivating from beginning to end, if you’re anything like me and a sucker for interesting romance and strong, nuanced characters you won’t be able to put this down either.

Score: 7/10

#a curse so dark and lonely #a heart so fierce and broken #brigid kemmerer #popular fiction #Popular Books #teen books #Teen Romance #teen fiction #book review #book blog #Book Recommendations #book rec #ya fiction #YA Book Review #ya book rec #book blogger

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eerythingisshaka · 4 years ago

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The Bodyguard

[Jason Momoa x Reader]

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: no smut, but does discuss an attempted drugging

His fingers dig into your arm painfully as you try to release yourself from the stranger’s grasp.

“Fuck off and let go of me!” you yell at him as loud as you can but the club’s music drowns your voice out from others around you being able to hear your distress.

When he takes you past security up front, he gives them a smile that at first won you over.

“Can you believe chicks these days? Wanna party all night long when their kid is up waiting for them. Let’s go hun!” The brawny security guard looks from him to you suspiciously but lets you both pass without incident. Out on the street, you kick him in the knee, finally getting freedom as he bounces off rubbing his bruised joint.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” he shouts at you with anger in his eyes.

You root around your clutch for your phone, shaking to open it up. “I’m not the one with the problem. I know you put something in my drink. I’m not stupid!”

This catches the attention of the security guard you passed in front of the club.

“Hey Carlos, come work the door, I have a disturbance to check out.” He walks up to your side. “Is he causing your problems, ma’am?”

You hold your phone to your ear waiting in 911 to pick up. “Yes! He is a fucking pervert who wants to fuck unconcious women!”

The guy looks nervous;y around him. “Hey, shut up! I don’t even know you for you to accuse me-”

“He bought me a drink and thought I wasn’t looking but something was floating in it when I almost took a sip. I gave it to the bartender and had them call the cops. Fuckface can’t stir, stupid bitch!”

The guy walks up to you pointing at your face. “You’re gonna quit fucking talking to me like that or-”

The security guard, lays out a long strong arm in front of you, cutting him off. “You wanna try that with me first man?”

He looks up at security with annoyance. “I’m not talking to you, George of the Jungle, I’m talking to this b-”

Just as 911 began to ask what was your emergency, security had him by his throat, walking him away from you.

“You talk a lot for a little guy. And I don’t have a lot of patience for talk. So since my shift is ending soon, I’d like to end it without incident. Do you wanna create one?”

Security drops him to the ground to writhe like a slug on salt.

You hang up on 911 and run up on the pervert, kicking him for good measure. “How you like not breathing when you want to BITCH! You’re a damn piece of shit, stay down!”

Security pulls you back gently but you rear back from his touch, causing him to retreat.

“I’m on your side. But you can’t beat his ass here, plus cops are on the way.”

On cue, you hear the whir of sirens far off, but getting louder by the second.

“Shit! I can’t get a ride in time before the cops get here.”

Security looks back at his buddy Carlos working the door and gives him a thumbs up, which he returns.

He looks back at you tentatively. “Feel free to say no but-”

“Can you give me a ride? Just to get me out of here before the cops get here.”

He blinks a couple times taken aback but mutters in agreement. You turn back to the pervert and kick him once more before running off ahead.

“Hey! My truck’s around back!” he yells after you.

Riding passenger to his pick up you sit closest to the window as possible, nearly facing him. He’s clearly unnerved as he drives, gripping the steering wheel tight. You notice the geometric tattoo poking from under his leather moto sleeve, snapshotting it in your memory. Brownish hair with some scarce light pieces grown naturally throughout. You lean over slightly and notice a scar in his brow that is a unique identifier-

“Could you stop looking at me like that?” he asks coarsely.

You squint at him suspiciously. “After the night I’ve had? It’s just a precaution.”

“You know where I work, they know me and that I’m with you. You have a paper trail, I wouldn’t risk shit like that dickhead back there.”

You raise your chin defensively. “So if I didn’t have a paper trail, you would consider it?”

“What?!” he looks at you incredulously.

You pop a finger in his face. “So you can take me home and just do whatever! They say the most likely serial killers are the good looking ones.”

He rolls his eyes. “A backhanded compliment, thanks. And you haven’t told me where you live yet. I’ve been driving for 15 minutes and you refuse to give it to me.”

You turn to face the road now. “I don’t want you to know where I live.”

“Trust me, I’d rather not either, but I’m trying to be nice here.”

“How about I go to yours, just for the night?”

You feel the truck jerk off the side of the road as he parks it abruptly. He turns to you, glaring with fire in his eyes. “You can catch a cab right here, I don’t have time for this.”

“No wait! I don’t mean like that! I just can’t go home! Please!” you say pleading with him.

“What do you mean you can’t?” he asks.

You fall back into your seat pitifully. “I dropped my keys back in the club...swinging my purse at the guy who spike my drink. I can’t call for a replacement until the morning...”

Security leans back, looking toward out his window you can’t read his expression but his body read tired as his broad shoulders melted down from their defensive mode.

He starts the truck back up. “Fine, but daylight is in four hours: you call a cab and you’re out of there.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “Thanks! I won’t impose on a thing. What’s your name by the way?”

He sits there quietly, streetlights rolling over his face ominously. “You need that for your police report?”

“Well maybe…”

“Come on!”

“No I mean with the guy spiking drinks back there, not you and what you’re possibly capable of but I’m not accusing you.”

“Jason,” he says. You share yours with a handshake.

You enter his apartment hesitantly. It has a rustic feel with a lot of old metal works decorations and natural wood furniture.

“You live alone?” you ask.

“Yes, so you can have the couch. Do you need anything before I break myself down for the night?”

You plop on the couch, taking off your shoes. “Got any bottled water?”

“Plastic is ruining the environment and its inhabitants.” He digs into the fridge and hands you a can. “Aluminum is much more sustainable.”

You open the can and take a sip. “Thanks but isn’t plastic recyclable?”

“Not nearly as much as aluminum. Now if you’ll excuse me…” He walks off to the back room as you settle into the sofa sipping your water. Your phone beeps warning you that it needs recharging. Your eyes catch a vacant cord in a corner outlet. Luckily it fits your phone as it beeps happily.

Sitting back down you finish your water and look around your surroundings.

“No TV?” you say, judging his choices. He probably has a big ego to match his huge stature.

You look through your phone a little bit to mindlessly scroll social media until you feel an urge to pee. Jason hasn’t come out of his room, he might be asleep. Not wanting to wake him, you tiptoe to find which door most likely led to the bathroom, turning a promising knob.

Opening the door, your nostrils are hit with a sweet smell of bath oils and the sight of a man reading in his bubble bath with pink scrunchies catches you off guard.

“What are you doing?!” he howls.

You can barely compute as you slowly smile at the picture in front of you. “Your pigtails are the cutest!”

“Get out!” he growls, adjusting the bubbles to ensure he is at least modest in front of you. You close the door and giggle to yourself until you remember your main goal.

“I’m sorry, but I have to pee!” You knock on the door so he knows you’re serious but you’re glad there’s no glass because you are still clearly amused. A big man in a bubble bath is just too rich.

“Give me a minute!” he says. You hear water sloshing around and silence until the door opens on you. Your face lands on his soft pink tshirt covering his firm chest.

“It’s all you,” he says in a monotone, letting you by as he made his way to his kitchen.

When you come back out, he is sitting with beer, looking up at you. “Want one?”

You shake your head. “I had enough to drink today.”

He takes a healthy glug from the stein. “Well, I haven’t started yet.”

You sit across from him, feeling awkward. He looks at you curiously. “So what happened with that guy anyway?”

“At the club? Just same old stuff. Guy says hi, gives a compliment, and offers a drink. He was a great conversationalist, just rattling on about what he does and how beautiful I am but then he tried to say he knew the owner and pointed him out to me. I looked behind me but I didn’t know what he looked like, so when I turned back to ask, he looked like he just moved and was posed unnaturally. I asked him what the owner looked like but he brushed off my question to raise his glass up with mine, cheersing to a good night, but this film was on top of my drink and all hell broke loose.”

“Fuck that scum,” he says, taking another drink.

“Exactly. So I hand it to the bartender and told them to save it and call 911. He may not have heard me but when the bartender didn’t dump it, he got pissed, grabbing my arm asking what I said.”

“Where was he taking you?” Jason asks.

You shrug. “I don’t even want to think about it, I have no idea but I wasn’t going to go no way. Thanks for stepping in when you did.”

Jason wipes his beard of the excess beer. “I’m just glad you spoke up and got attention on him. If I wasn’t on the clock, that guy would’ve been in the dumpster with the rest of the trash.”

You think back to the moment, getting dragged and the pain in your arm. You lift your arm and see some purpling form on your bicep and Jason notices.

“Let me get ice for that.” He makes an ice bag with a dishrag and loads it up with cubes. You lay your arm down on the table for him to place the ice on your inner arm.

“Hold it there. Does it still hurt?”

You shake your head. “But I’m sure in the morning it will.”

“Yeah that’s gonna be nasty, but the ice will lessen it.”

“Thanks again, for the help.”

“Please don’t mention it. I just wish there were less dipshits on the street messing unsuspecting people.”

You nod, and feel a yawn coming on. “I think it’s about time I try to catch some Zs. I have, what, 3 hours left?”

Jason puts his stein in the sink. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t work until night again so just rest. I was high strung back there when I said that.”

“I get it, but really, I’ll be out on time.” You get up, adjusting your dress and head for the couch.

“Do you want a shirt and shorts or something? You’ll be swimming in it but it has to be more comfortable than your night look.”

You mull it over. “Uh, a tshirt would be good.”

Jason goes back to his bedroom for a minute,coming out with a black Slayer tee.

He tells you good night, closing his bedroom door as you peel off the hot pink bandage dress that peels slowly off your body like a second skin. You feel like a new woman slipping on the tshirt, fitting you perfectly loose for comfort, smelling Jason’s musk embedded in its threads. You lay out on the couch with the ice under your arm as sleep swept you away.

---

You wake up slowly to the smell of food wafting in the air. You stretch, inhaling the heavenly smell, almost forgetting until you opened your eyes that the place you slept was not your own.

You wince at the awareness of your arm as you sit up and see your burly friend over the stove,

“Good morning! Breakfast is about ready,” he says in a jovial manner. You get up and take your phone off the charger, reading the time as 11:47 am.

“Shit! I overslept!” you say, gathering your dress and shoes. “I’ll give this shirt back. I need it for the ride back to my place.”

Jason looks disappointed as he lays out some eggs on a plate. “No, I said you didn’t have to worry about that! You need food, come on, eat.”

He sits down, shoveling a forkful into his mouth waving you over.

“It does...smell great.” He smiles, handing you a plate to help yourself to eggs, sausage and toast.

“I didn’t get this size by skipping meals, little lady. And breakfast is best after a night out.”

You reach over for a piece of toast but the ache of your arm holds you back. Jason takes your wrist gently, rolling up the shirt sleeve to study your bruise.

“Yeah, they look worse as they get better.” He gives it a gentle rub before returning to his plate. “So you survived the night?”

“Yeah, that is a good couch.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

You swallow some juice, taking a couple bites of egg. “Sorry again for imposing. I’ll blame my previous drink on that boldness. I don’t do this often.”

He shrugs. “I don’t bring strange women home after work either, just so you know.”

You smile. “Well luckily I’m not strange.”

His eyes widen as he locks his jaw.

“You think I’m strange?!”

He lifts his juice glass. “I meant that I don’t shit where I sleep. I respect boundaries.”

You feel slightly disappointed with this information. “Oh, well thank you. I am glad I got a glimpse of the man behind the leather and toughness. Bubbles and pigtails, I just can’t!”

“And I’m not apologizing for it lady, so tough shit! A man can enjoy the finer things in life.”

“You bet your ass you can. You earned it.”

You fill up no breakfast enough to get you going and get ready to go.

“I’m ordering my car now...coming in 2 minutes.”

Jason stands at his front door with you, hands dug in his black and white horizontal striped pants. “Ok, I’ll just see you off.”

“You don’t have to. You’ve already done a lot,” you assure him.

Jason shakes his head. “I want to.”

Silence passes through the two of you as you wait. Seeing him in the daylight for the first time, he doesn’t look so serial killer scary as you once thought. His wavy brown hair looks heavenly and less wild man. Even the scar above his eye has character.

“How’d you get that?” You point at his face.

“What?” he asks, rubbing his face. “Is there some egg on my face?”

“No, here.” You step up to him and reach his brow carefully. “Right there.”

The softness of his brow welcomed your touch as you lightly stroked the area. Jason’s eyes glisten innocently at you, never once flinching under your hand. He doesn’t say anything, and you’re glad. You willed him in your mind to take hold of your hips and pull you to him-

Beep Beep

Your notification ring tolls that your ride has arrived. You look at your phone and into the parking lot.

“I guess that’s my cue,” you say in a monotone, walking off slowly.

“Hey wait!” he calls after you.

You turn to him quickly. “Yeah?”

His mouth hangs on some words he wants to say but blurts out, “Make sure to keep some ice on that arm.”

You nod as your heart falls.

“And if you happen to collect numbers, any chance you would want mine?”

You bite your lip running up to him to slap his arm. “You think you are so sly, don’t you?”

“Like the Family Stone. And I need to contact you for my shirt back, so don’t think you’re getting away that easy.”

Masterlist

Tag

@chaneajoyyy

#jason momoa x reader #shakafic

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walkingshcdow-a · 3 years ago

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Title: A Walk in the Garden Summary: Stolas and his Father walk in a garden paradise once more. AU Notes: This is for an AU I’m writing with @mytisanes. In it, Stolas, Blitzo, their children, and Moxxie and Millie are posing as humans in a sort of “Witness Protection Program”. Stolas and Blitzo are “married” and I love everything about this AU. Please note, according to Stolas’ page on the HB wiki, he’s a fallen angel.

They walk together through the garden, father and son. It’s been a while since you could see the resemblance but today it’s clear the father must have had the same dark hair in his youth, the same blue eyes. After all, his children are all in his image.

Stolas folds his hands behind his back to resist the urge to touch. It’s been so long and he wants to know that this is real, that he isn’t baked out of his mind with Loona, celebrating the end of exams for them both. The ground beneath him is soft; the grass springy under bare feet. Maybe this is real. It’s quieter than usual, mid-morning. He looks around for Blitzo or Octavia or Loona; even for Millie and Moxxie next door. He and his father could be alone in the neighborhood, in all the world, for all he can tell. Stolas walks with his father at a leisurely pace and every so often they stop and he tells him a little about the story of how the vegetable garden was started for a project for Octavia’s school or how Loona kept him company with merciless teasing as her snipped roses for Blitzo or how, when he’d come down with the flu, Blitzo and Moxxie and Millie all pitched in to keep the garden flourishing without his constant attentions. He strokes his Demonic Flytrap, which he smuggled seeds from Hell to Earth because he’d developed this subspecies himself. His father says nothing and smiles, hard to read. Stolas gets that from him. It’s a trick he learned in his youth, how to smile without revealing what kind of smile it is. It terrifies him to see his father make such a face. He gestures to the deck, the one that Blitzo insisted on building and only let him help to build because Millie had been too pregnant to help and the girls had homework and he would have rather put up with Stolas’ chipper questions than Moxxie’s because at least Stolas’ came with compliments and other things you didn’t tell your father, even if he was omniscient...

“It was a spectacular weekend,” he tells his father. “Just the two of us, making a home of this place. The girls are begging us for a pool next. We might say yes, but we haven’t given in just yet. It’s hard to deny them anything.”

“It’s always hard to say “no”,” his father says. “You’ve set good boundaries with the girls. I wish I’d set better ones with you and your siblings.”

Stolas blinks and then his eyes narrow. He didn’t expect such candor, so quickly and he doesn’t trust it. Stella used to set traps like this for him, before the fighting lost any veneer of civility. He used to fall for it nearly every time, trusting in her love for him, like a fool. Why trust his father’s love now?

“You set very firm boundaries, Father,” he says. “I can’t imagine what a ‘better’ boundary would have looked like.”

“Clearer,” his father amends. “I wish you all had understood that I didn’t stop loving you just because I told you “no”.”

“I think I understand that now,” Stolas says. He flexes his wings, which he has not worn in thousands of years. They ache with atrophy, trembling a little as he stretches. Will they carry him if he tries to fly? For how long? Will Via have hers, too? Would she have had them anyway, even if they hadn’t ended up here? He imagines her flying and imagines all his panicked rules for safety if and when that happened, smiling sheepishly. “Being a parent grants you a certain perspective.”

“Some of your brothers are parents now, too,” his father says. “It doesn’t guarantee understanding.”

“Yes, well, Luci’s always been a bit stubborn. There’s a reason he reigns over the ring of pride.”

“You didn’t claim a ring for yourself.”

Stolas shrugs. It had been a wise choice on his part - to have some of the power and some of the glory without all of the responsibility and all of the corruption. He wishes he could say it was foresight. He remembers Stella’s ire when he chose the grimoire over a ring of Hell as his spoils of war. You could have been so much more, you pathetic piece of-

“I preferred my freedom,” he says. “I wanted to study....Science, magic, all of creation. Even during the war, I didn’t want to fight. I wanted… this.”

He looks around his garden and sees a set of four bicycles leaned against the siding, shoes scattered by the glass sliding door, the giant plastic recycling bin Blitzo sometimes leaned him over when they wanted to show off for the neighbors. How does he tell his father that this life he’s made is better than anything even the Lord of all creation could have given him?

“You couldn’t have had it in Heaven.”

It’s a statement of fact, but Stolas dares to peer into his father’s face. There’s an ounce of regret in his eyes, making them shine with unshed tears. He will not get an apology. He’s too old and too content to want one, but he tries to cast his memory back to streets of light. What place did a muddy garden have there? And what place did something so alive and lovely have in Imp City?

“I couldn’t have had it in Hell, either,” Stolas says, shrugging. “I suppose I’ve always envied humans. Their lives are brief, but they’re theirs. They live to their accord and they love, my word, do they love as deeply and freely as they choose.”

“You weren’t always unhappy with the choice made for you.”

“No, but matches made in Heaven don’t fare so well in Hell.” A pause. “Why is it that a match made in Hell works as well as mine and Blitzy’s does?”

His father stops walking and sighs slowly, steadily. He looks at Stolas, who only cocks his head.

“Love works in mysterious ways,” his father says.

“So do you.”

“My son, I am more knowable than the power of love. You’ve seen the cosmos: is love common? Does it fit neatly into the sciences you so love?”

Stolas is quiet.

“You won’t take me from him now that....” He lifts his wings feebly. “Or Octavia or Loona or... “

His father puts a hand to his shoulder and it calms Stolas quickly. It quiets him, at least, and that’s something that Blitzo would tell anyone who asked (or didn’t ask) was a challenge not for the faint of heart.

“I will grant you eternity with them.”

“Here?”

“If you wish it.”

Stolas ponders. He thinks of his palace with its hundreds of rooms and how much closer this little house has brought them. He imagines Loona bossing servants around, Octavia searching familiar walls to find unfamiliar portraits, Blitzo picking fights at royal balls or dodging unwanted glances, burning his first marriage bed even though it’s also the first place he made love to Blitzo, too, and trying to convince all of Hell that they were really a happy, blended family, even if his ex-wife tried to kill him for it. He isn’t a half-bad speechmaker. Maybe he can say something to keep the peace, but the other Goetia will not love his family as he does. There would be whispers at best; more assassins at worst. Blitzo deserves to relax enough to take only jobs he wants, not ones he has to take. And the girls… they deserve the world, even if the world is a muddy garden and a little house in the suburbs.

“We cannot return to Hell.”

“No.”

“And your angels won’t welcome Blitzo and Loona into Heaven.”

Stolas’ father winces.

“Nor you. Their union has spoken to me about fears that reformed princes might reclaim their thrones.”

“And if I wanted my throne? And used that power to demand all Heaven accept my husband and daughters?”

“Could you have done such a thing in Hell?”

Again, Stolas is silent, a resounding no.

“Things are going to change,” his father said. “In time. Lucifer’s daughter has a project in Hell that will do great things for people of all realms.”

“That half-way house?” Stolas makes a skeptical sound. His father shoots him a look.

“I am as proud of Charlie as I am of Octavia,” he says sternly enough to kill Stolas’ laughter. “Your niece will do great things and you and your family is a shining example of what is possible for angels and demons, what might come next.”

“I have so many questions-”

And that is when the beach ball hits Stolas squarely in the nose. He opens his eyes to find himself lying in one of the deck chairs above the garden, book open across his chest.

His father is gone.

“Nice shot!” Loona says, bumping Octavia’s shoulder.

“Dad,” Octavia says Stolas groggily sits up. That hadn’t felt like a dream and yet… “Blitzo says the pool company is coming to measure the yard in fifteen minutes.”

“I thought Blitzo and I told you no to the pool…”

The girls exchange glances that say one thing very clearly: ‘Oh, shit’ before dashing around the side of the house. Stolas doesn’t know which of them had called the pool company or how much they had promised to pay, but as he shuffles to his feet, he tries to grab onto the dream as something real once more, wiggling his shoulders in search of the weight of wings. He could have sworn he feels something when he hears Blitzo yell from the front of the house: “Who the fuck called the pool company?!?”

He smiles before going inside. Maybe this is what paradise is, massaging your husband’s shoulders as he curses out the pool company you didn’t contract while saying, “Oh, Blitzy, we did say maybe…. We should have set clearer boundaries with them… but since they took the liberty.... It will do wonders for the resale value of this place and I do so enjoy the sight of you in a bathing suit...”

Yes, maybe this is paradise - the paradise they deserve at any rate, and, my, what a wonderful thing to deserve…!

#;;i used to think that i was bold | {stolas}#x. drabble #mytisanes #r: my knight in shining armor | {stolas x blitzo}

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solesurvivorpaigeargot · 4 years ago

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Loving Stupid - Chapter One: Sanctuary [Fallout 4 Fanfiction]

HELLOOO Tumblr! Now that I’ve got this blog up and running, I wanted to do what I could to expand the exposure of my fic and get it around to new readers. While it’s already up on Fanfiction.net , it seems to me that the majority of the community prefers Ao3 or reading directly here on Tumblr. So, I figure why not post it over here as well?

Though a heads up that this first chapter was first written entirely for personal enjoyment, and then a friend I showed it to encouraged me to expand upon the story cause they wanted to see more of the ship. XD It’s uh... lil spicy. Or lemony, depending on how old you are and how far back your fic vocab goes.

Story Title: Loving Stupid

Story Summary: Paige [Sole Survivor] and Hancock venture into the Glowing Sea in pursuit of a lead on the Institute, when a catastrophic equipment failure forces them to separate.

Rating: MATURE

Content Warnings for this Chapter: Sexual content, drugs, alcohol, cursing

Content Warnings for story overall: Sexual content, drugs, alcohol, cursing, violence, blood, injury, needles, limb mutilation

Genre: .... erotic romance-adventure? IDK shit goes down and there’s some spicy scenes, but also a lot of character building and relationship stuff. I’m bad at genre assessment. Open to suggestions XD

.:_Sanctuary_:.

“So these are your digs, huh? … can't say it's my speed.”

“Not historical enough?”

“Nah, it's...”

Paige watched Hancock's face twist as he struggled to pick out what word fit his distaste, ghoulish features creating sharp valleys along fault lines in leathery skin while the shiny dark of his eyes appraised the home she'd built atop one of the empty foundations of Sanctuary Hills.

It wasn't anything special, wooden planks coaxed together into floors, walls, and roofing with nails and elbow grease. This was the only settlement where Paige had a place that was specifically hers, where she kept the little knickknacks and oddities she collected; all dutifully looked after by Codsworth-- ever dedicated to his task two centuries after it had been assigned to him. She'd given some life to the wooden bones of the shack, however; recycled fabrics became rugs and curtains with only mildly clashing patterns, and she even managed to cobble a number of worn out flannel shirts into a workable set of sheets for a double-wide bed that was, in truth, just a pair of smaller mattresses pushed together to pretend they were a queen size.

What could she say? She liked to sprawl.

Generators lit up Sanctuary at night with bare bulbs, and her little shack was no different. It brought yellow light against the dark, and reflected off a multitude of glass bottles, lined up on the shelves of a bureau she'd rescued, mostly intact, from the home of a long-dead neighbor. Whiskey, vodka, wine-- she jokingly called it her liqueur cabinet, despite the thing not having doors to lock the alcohol behind.

She'd done her best to make this a where place she could sleep soundly, when she was in the area. It was little more than a bed, a roof, and a lot of junk on shelves; insulated from the outside world with some sewn-together fabric scraps... but stepping over the threshold always made her feel like she'd entered a sort of... bubble. Not safe-- nowhere was safe-- but... quiet.

She could pretend, here.

“Comfortable.” Hancock decided, grousing out the word. “Damn near cozy-- you put this together?”

“With my own two hands.” She informed him; trust Hancock to find an issue with comfort-- then again, she couldn't blame him. Comfortable people had a habit of being complacent people, and they both knew that was where a lot of ugliness could happen... but his opinion didn't stop her from stepping inside and divesting herself of the pieced together armor that she layered over a set of somewhat over-sized army fatigues, reclaimed after clearing an old base of ferals. There was a wooden bin by the door for that stuff; she'd have to strap it all back on in the morning... but for now she was grateful to take a load off, starting with an enameled metal helmet.

“I've watched those hands beat faces to a bloody pulp. I didn't figure they could sew.”

She scoffed at him, rolling her eyes as she heard him trudge inside anyhow, metal door closing behind him, and set herself to the straps that kept her secured within the bits of metal and leather that frequently kept her alive on the road. Left arm first, a metal shoulder piece coming loose, and the whole ritual making her feel as if she were shedding skin.

She didn't tell him that she might have been a housewife a few centuries ago-- that was a different life. The idea that someone could live so cushy as to devote themselves to home-making and nothing else was a fever dream in this age, and while Hancock probably had enough chems in his pockets to attempt imagining it, she didn't feel like trying to paint the picture for him.

She didn't want to know what he'd think of her, knowing just how... comfortable she'd been.

“I'm a woman of many talents.” She snarked instead as another heavy piece of metal thumped into the bin, freeing up the shoulder beneath to roll and stretch. “Don't worry about getting used to it-- this is a one night stop. First thing in the morning, I'm seeing to the upgrades on the armor, and then back on the-- ah--”

Hands-- surprisingly strong hands despite withered skin that clung to spindly bones. She didn't know how that worked-- Hancock wasn't a big man, and the ghoulishness made her think he'd be frail... instead he'd hefted a flamer onto his back when he set out with her, and carried it from one end of the Commonwealth to the other without complaint. Finding those hands suddenly assisting with undoing the straps at her sides so that her chest piece could come loose was a surprise; simple and sure movements causing the scavenged military combat armor to come loose and slide forward. Without an anchor, it slid forward until the hard edge of the back plate caught on her neck and stopped it from simply falling to the floor. Meanwhile, Hancock's hands had slid in along her ribs, pressing firmly into the rough fabric and reminding her that they were, for the first time in a while, blissfully alone.

“I'm aware of that.”

Her lips pressed together-- a low sigh was expressed with his rough whisper in her ear. She swore he knew how much that got to her, despite her very deliberately not telling him. It was a struggle not to react, not to lean back as he reeled her in, those spidery hands easily finding their way upwards beneath the hanging breastplate and his chin perching on her shoulder. He'd pulled them together, his body against hers, and punctuated the move with a mischievous chuckle.

“Sometimes a little too talented-- doin' everything yourself, despite having a public servant waiting in the wings.” He teased her. “Let a ghoul help, eh sister?”

It wasn't entirely unexpected, nor unwelcome, but his eagerness was something that caught her off guard. She usually had something to say, something sly to come back with, but for some reason all she could focus on was the ticklish clutch of her gut as his fingers gathered up the material of her shirt in their traveling to her bust, squeezing fitfully enough to expose an inch of skin at her belly.

“Hancock--” She muttered, squirming slightly, but not in earnest. “C'mon, we've got the whole night--”

“That's right.” He agreed, but it was with an entirely different tone. One hand remained up, keeping her tight to him, while the other traveled down. The thin ribbon of skin that had been exposed was soon graced with the specific texture of his skin; rough, but not terribly so. Like callous, only it was all over; somewhat leathery and unique. His entire palm invaded through that opening, hard against her belly as fingertips sought out a path further south. “We've got the whole night-- and I didn't plan on wastin' any of it...” His fingers were ruthless once they found purchase, shoving past the tight fit provided by a belt she was wearing. “Did you?”

Her breath shuddered. No part of her wanted to tell him no-- the rush was enough to make her ignore the metal edge digging into the back of her neck, and forget how doggedly exhausted she'd been after their long trek here... particularly lugging her own weight in lead along the way.

In her hesitation, he'd gotten far enough to make a more intimate contact-- damnably persistent, like ivy finding the cracks in brickwork to wheedle its way in.

He pressed in against her, too certain to be deterred by straps and clothes. Barriers had been passed without any show of manners, knowing her well enough that if he was unwanted she would have thrown him off by now... and getting a sweet gasp as his reward.

“There we go.” His smile was evident in his tone-- no, not a smile, a grin-- a smug, shit-eating grin. She could imagine how it looked on his face, and knew he'd be wearing it for hours just to make her glare at him.

It didn't matter. Everything he'd done so far was just testing the water in his puckish, incorrigible way. Now he had her, and his wrist twisted as he worked that hand just a little further into her pants before slipping a fingertip against soft flesh. The motion was a sort of rocking of his hand, sliding the single offending finger down between sensitive lips before drawing back upwards with the tip pressed in, working up a little warmth in general and offering up a little tantalizing pressure to wake up the sweet spot for later, stroking her like that as his hips pitched against hers to turn her away from the bin next to the door and instead face her against the closed portal they'd entered through, reinforcing that he had her.

Without thinking, her right hand came out to brace against the door. Cold metal barely registered, just that it gave her something to push back against as he leaned in harder against her back, idly kneading her breast as he stroked her beneath restrictive layers of cloth and leather.

“O-oh... damnit, Hancock--”

“I was thinking fuck it, actually.” He smirked, still right by her ear for that quip before finally leaning back the necessary inches and releasing her breast to help her get her armor the rest of the way off, falling to the floor with a hard thud instead of getting placed in the bin. Pitching his shoulders back, hips pressed forward, grinding against her to advertise himself against her rump. “... just like this...” He added, losing a little breath as he suggested it, that free hand of his coming right back as if magnetically drawn, this time landing at the top of her hip and sliding upwards to expose a few more inches of skin-- his palm on her back, pushing with his surprising strength to encourage her to bend forward.

Bend over, actually.

She got his meaning, groaning softly as his stroking remained steady. She didn't resist the push, her hand shifting against the wall as her body dipped lower and her own free hand fumbled with the latch for her belt. The strip of leather resisted her, frustrating her fingers for a few agonizing moments as the sensation of his hand brought on another faint sigh, slipping against her with more ease as her body reflected her own eagerness; building with the anticipation. Then, finally, she managed to yank it just the right way for the latch to loose, the pressure of having his hand shoved in where it was such a tight fit relived, and further tugging releasing the subsequent button and zipper before they became obstacles... and before her hands became utterly uncooperative.

The loosened hem could be yanked down on his side, exposing more precious skin to the evening chill that crept in through the walls. Gnarled knuckles hooked on the hem, and fingertips got her underwear in the same dragging motion that demanded quick access. The lower she bent, the more he leaned against her, miming what would come in due time. It wasn't until he had her ass bare, pants and underwear drug down below the swell of her hips, that he finally pulled his own body back the inches necessary to attend to a few layers of fabric himself... but he didn't let off touching her as quickly. The hand that exposed her lingered, fingertips ghosting the sensitive skin just below the curve of her rump and sending a tingle across her skin, before his weathered palm pressed up and squeezed hard, his thumb sliding up to the top of her hip while his fingers rotated down. Finally, he finished up the groping with a light swat, chuckling behind her.

“Fuck you look so good like this...” He marveled, and she could hear layers of fabric moving against each other. “I just wanna wreck you.”

“Shut up and-- nnnnnnnh--”

She couldn't see him, but she felt him; hard and hot against her skin, pressed first between her thighs before he adjusted himself upwards. His finger's rubbing of her had paused, that hand simply anchored there as, from the rear, he worked himself against her, dragging the tip of himself this way and that until he found just the right angle to slick himself up with her excitement... and making her crave him in the process as she flexed her hips back towards him, trying to make it easier for him.

Somehow, some fucking how, she'd gone from exhausted to needy in the span of only a few minutes. It was the kind of eagerness that usually belonged to the young and dumb-- insanity she thought she'd left behind in her teen years, but he always found a way to draw it out of her.

She had no idea how he did that, but she never wanted it to change.

“Yeah?” His voice had dropped, the word barely differentiated from the heavy sigh it was carried out on. “C'mon, you can moan for me... no one's gonna hear you this time...”

More of him, pressing between wet lips-- and then more; there was resistance, going for it quick like this always meant it was a little rough, but it was the kind of sensation that left her gasping aloud as she went from craving that feeling of him to having him sink into her and remind her just how good it felt. Imagination, memory-- it always fell short, not quite living up to what it was in the immediate reality of the moment. Friction and heat, bound up in an intimate need-- just as addicting as any of the chems he slipped into her pockets whenever he thought she looked strung out.

Out of reflex, her jaw clenched tight, denying the urge to moan aloud and her body clenching around him instead. Both hands had applied themselves to the wall, and her breath shook as teeth ground together, resisting.

“Oh shit-- fuck-- if you squeeze me like that, I'm gonna...”

His hips bucked forward after a short draw back, the hand he'd been using to guide himself against her now finding its way to anchor at the crease that formed between her hip and her body as she bent against the wall, yanking her tight against him with the same motion before coming to a sharp stop. She could feel him inside, throbbing and thick, and the jolt made her jaw drop open for a short exclamation to escape her.

Buried, he began to rub her from the front again, abandoning the long strokes he'd used to warm her up and instead zeroing in on where she was most sensitive. Where his opening moves had all been about pressure with maximum contact, he changed tactics to only flick across her with the tip of his finger, instigating another tightening of her body as her resistance to making noise produced a shudder instead.

“D-don't--” She finally managed to murmur. “Oh God-- Hancock, you don't have to--”

This was a quickie-- an opener. She didn't expect this kind of attention; he always made up for it later, after a little Jet got him going again. This was usually the part where he took her by the hips with both hands and went to town, but instead he held her to keep them both tightly together, all while--

“F-fuck--” A whispered curse, kept lower than a murmur, followed by a greedy breath. He wasn't letting up, despite her telling him he didn't need to bother. She tried to push herself back against him, to antagonize him, but his fingers only tightened their grasp on the side of her hip as he leaned forward over her, ensuring that he was the one in control.

A defined clutch passed through her, centered at her core.

“Oh fuck-- mmmm--!”

“There you go... c'mon, let it out...” He coaxed her, rocking himself back in another short motion before jolting back into her again, letting out a guttural sound of his own as he did so. “Lemme hear you...”

It was an old habit to hold back, to grit her teeth and hold her breath-- anything to keep quiet. Her own fingers, once splayed open against the metal door, curled inwards into fists as the sensation built up, deep and desperate gasps getting drawn in through her nose as her jaw remained tightly closed, lips pressing hard against each other as she hummed and swallowed. Her head dropped down, his touch taking more and more of her focus.

Old habits were hard to break, but he was a new habit. One that liked to push at her old habits and see how long they'd stick.

Toes curled inside her boots, eyes closed without thinking. There was no thinking-- no, just her perception of him; the weight of his body against hers, the grip of his hand, and sound of his breath, all as her body underwent jolts that made her hips continue to try and rock back against his, one of her hands eventually lifting and banging back onto the door as the sensation turned briefly sharp, jaw loosing for a raw gasp between her lips and a guttural groan. “F-Fuck Hancock, you're gonna--- oh-- oh-- shit--”

“Rub you raw?” He completed the thought she was trying to articulate, drawing in a heavy breath of his own. His own hips rocked now, a minimal motion of a man that could barely help himself. “Wouldn't... wouldn't dream of it... just love the way you squeeze...”

The rocking changed things, introduced that delightful sensation that scratched the ineffable itch he'd aroused in her. Pressure and friction as he kept up his assault on her sensitivity made her knees wobble with a threat to give out, breath viciously driven out of her lungs in a single erotic moan.

“Fuck...” He murmured emphatically. “Sing for me babe... it's so pretty...” He encouraged her, pressing his face against the back of her neck as he kept a steady tempo. He was fully against her, laid over her back and abandoning his grasp on her hip to reach forward, those thin fingers of his stealing beneath the buttoned blouse of her fatigues and taking a demanding grasp on her breast; stalled only momentarily by the worn elastic band of her bra. The heel of his hand ground upwards at first, pressing in against her ribs, before he was pulling on her again, ensuring she remained anchored against him as he kept up the rocking motion he'd adopted over more conventional thrusting.

“Ah... ah shit... shit- shit-- J-John, oooooh... oh fuu...”

She lost the thread of why she'd been protesting in the first place. Her jaw fell open, and another moan came out; louder as everything began to come together. The movement, his insistent grasp, that very specific sense of fullness within her body and the craving it both satisfied and aggravated at the same time--

“Yeah?” He breathed against her ear. “You gettin' there, sweet thing? … good... I wanna feel it... And once you're over the edge, I'm gonna rail you until I burst.”

A thrill ran through her, like electricity that danced along her spine. Now that he'd articulated his intention, she wanted it, too.

“C-close...” She whimpered, nodding her head faintly. “J-just like that... l-little higher... rub a little higher... little circles around my-- oh- oh god- there- fuck yes-- there--!!”

Feverishly murmured coaching that directed his stroking where the craving was strongest sent her further than she expected to go, her head and chest dipping lower as her elbows bent and her forearms joined her hands in being braced against the door, a defined shaking running through her person as she went up to her toes and the rubber soles of her boots dug into the floor, further flexing her hips back in the desperation to have that sense of fullness as her body seemed to anchor itself on where they were intertwined. More than just laying open, her jaw stretched for her cry out with the rush.

His grip on her changed. He wasn't leaned over her anymore, but pitched back as both of his hands found their way to her hips.

God, she could feel him; the meeting of their bodies dominated her brain as she felt him throb within her shortly before he changed to much more active motions. There, again, was that surprising strength as he drew back and adjusted himself just low enough to begin taking her roughly, groaning between sharp breaths as his hips shocked against her rump with every thrust.

Her body was still squeezing, still rippling from what he'd just put her through, aware of the force in his every motion as he drove into her tightly clenched core.

“A-aah... aaanngh--!!”

A hitch, and his voice gave out for a more primal noise, his motions growing more hurried as she felt his nails digging into her hips. There'd probably scratches to attend to later-- not the first time. His breath juddered, followed by a gasp before it was held a moment. All at once, everything came to a halt, a shuddering swell moving up through his flesh that came shortly before a certain warmth spread within her; passed from him to her.

He claimed a sharp breath after, followed by a relieved exhale as his hands loosened. He didn't release her just yet, but he wasn't clutching quite so hard anymore.

“...shit that felt too good...” He muttered faintly as she tried to regain her own breath. One hand and forearm remained braced on the door, but the other had released to reach backwards for him, flexing her fingers to show she desired another kind of contact, and getting one of his hands in return for the non-verbal gesture. Once intertwined, she squeezed him, and let out a faint and almost girlish giggle.

“Too good...?” She quested, surprised he'd ever entertain the concept.

“Damn right.” He lobbed back, squeezing in return. “It's the kind of good a guy gets addicted to... Gotta find us some privacy a little more often.”

Don't have to tell me twice.

This was about the point where bodies needed to come apart; signaled by their hands drifting away from one another after that comforting squeeze... but that process was interrupted.

There was a knock at the metal door Paige was braced up against.

“General? Do you have a moment?”

… Preston, your timing is a disaster.

She recognized the voice in a heartbeat, and it was exactly the sort of person who had previously voiced his disapproval of her and Hancock's partnership... and he didn't even know about the more intimate details of said partnership. There was a shock associated to hearing his voice at this particularly compromised moment, one that made her face flush as she was excessively thankful for the solid door between them.

More thankful that he hadn't shown up a few minutes ago, when he might have heard a thing or two through that door.

Behind her, she more felt than heard Hancock's muted chuckle.

“I'm a little occupied at the moment, Garvey.” Paige answered back through the door; not entirely a lie. “Is it urgent?”

“Just a couple questions I'd like to ask, that's all.” Preston's voice answered back. “Security concerns.”

That was code for yes, it's urgent to me. Preston had been very particular about security ever since she assigned him to it. Making him wait would prompt more questions later, and possible lost trust with him and his group.

Despite very much not wanting to, it sounded like she was going to need to put her clothes back on for a little while.

“Just a minute, I'll be right out.” She informed him.

“Yes, sir.”

“Awee...” Hancock quietly cooed, easing himself away from her. “No cuddle time?”

Finally able to straighten up, she shot a look back at him that encouraged him to shut his face before she broke some part of it in lieu of his mostly missing nose... before cracking a smirk. “There's a bathroom behind that partition--” She directed him quietly, muting her voice to lower the chance it would carry. “No hot water, but it's clean.”

“Heh, ritzy.” Hancock smirked back. Looking at him, she was able to see exactly how ruffled his coat and blouse had ended up, with trousers only shifted just enough out of the way to get away with what they'd just done. He hadn't made any motion to arrange himself back into those trousers, though, appearing all too comfortable to just let it all hang out. “Is that your way to telling me to put it on ice? Cause if anyone needs cleaning up right now, it's you.”

He was right; she was a sticky mess between the thighs, and standing upright allowed for dripping between her legs. Usually she would have insisted on some clean cloth and water to manage that with, but at the current moment? She reached down and simply pulled pants and underwear back up, zipping, buttoning, and straightening both bra and blouse until it was impossible for anyone to know what they'd been up to by simply looking at her... and with only him aware of the specific nature of what was probably going to end up staining her undergarments.

“I'll make you clean it up, later.” She informed him playfully. “It's your mess.”

“Oooh... dirty.” He chuckled. “Don't threaten me with a good time.”

Her look hardened, making a motion at him that encouraged him to shoo-- the last thing she needed was to open the door and have Garvey catch a glimpse of her companion with his dick out. Hancock pouted at her, but ultimately obeyed.

With a sigh, she turned herself back towards the door, hesitated a moment, and then finally grasped the handle to push it open and head out.

Doing so was not unlike a splash of cold water to the face. Twilight was a good hour past, and the night sky was filled with stars without a single cloud to obscure them. There was a stiff wind tonight; enough to snap Garvey's trench coat against his legs and make the man pull up the swell of his scarf a little more to protect his nose and cheeks.

Going from the relative comfort of her little home-made haven, as well as the heat of her recent encounter, into the abrupt chill of the night with a sharp wind in her face could have only been more of a shock to the system if it had been raining.

As she emerged, Garvey looked back to appear in profile to her. The man was always at the ready, laser rifle held upright over his chest and his eyes brightly aware despite the dark of the night. Paige's shack was at the far end of Sanctuary; away from where she'd built housing for the other residents, as well as where she'd set up crops, power generators, and water. Looking down the slight hill her shack sat upon at Preston meant also seeing the lights of the settlement beyond him; the faint yellow glow of something that could almost be called a town as the back-drop to his silhouette and shining gaze.

“Garvey.” She greeted him by his last name; it felt more professional, what with him always insisting on calling her General since she'd helped him revive the Minuet Men and retake their old headquarters. “What can I do for you?”

“Like I said, I just had a few questions...” He answered, peering further up and towards the shack. She couldn't see his face; her abode featured no outdoor lights, and with the glow of the settlement behind him his features were cast in shadow. “... where's the ghoul?”

The ghoul. She could practically taste the disapproval on that one.

“Hancock is taking this chance to wash some of the wasteland out of his clothes.” She responded. “Is your security concern about him?”

“No, no, of course not. If you trust him, that's enough for me.” Preston assured her. “But, uh...”

“Out with it, Garvey.” She ordered sternly.

“I was manning the watch when you came back to Sanctuary, General-- I saw you brought back your power armor, and it looked like you were carrying a heavy load of supplies. I know you'd tell me if anything were coming for us here, but... I didn't see any of it go out with the traders, and that made me worry. So, I've gotta ask; do you think something nasty is coming up this way?”

She blinked. Preston thought she was stockpiling for an incoming threat. She almost wanted to laugh aloud, but couldn't manage it. Instead, she stepped down from her place above him on the hill, coming to stand at his side while still looking out at the settlement.

“No,” She answered him. “Nothing's coming here. I'm preparing for a journey into dangerous territory... I need to upgrade my armor before we head out, and we needed a safe place to rest our heads before we committed. I want every advantage we can get under us before we go.”

A pause. Whatever he expected to hear, that wasn't on the list.

“... General, you know all you'd have to do is say the world, and I'd--”

“I'm going somewhere you can't follow, Garvey.” She responded flatly. Of course he wanted to go with her, probably wanting to convince her to take him instead of Hancock. He considered himself more capable, more trustworthy; the better choice on all fronts.

She'd disagree with him outright, but Hancock also had a very specific advantage over Garvey that would leave him no grounds to argue on.

“I'm going into the Glowing Sea.”

Silence. The pause stretched out for several beats, no doubt as Preston processed what exactly it was she was saying.

“... I see. The armor will protect you from most of the radiation, and your companion is immune.” He observed. “... smart choice.” He added, begrudgingly, before asking, “But why are you going in there? Even with the armor, you're going to need to be carrying your weight in medicine to even have a hope of making it back alive...”

“It's important. That's all I can say right now.”

A month or two ago, she might have told him. Before getting involved with the Underground Railroad, before encountering a synth and the person they were trying to replace at the same time and very nearly killing the wrong one during the confrontation, before learning exactly how the institute dealt with people they didn't want to have around anymore... But now? There was doubt in her mind, about almost everyone. Was Preston really Preston? Or was he just another set of eyes and ears for them? If she mentioned a defector, hiding out in the Glowing Sea, would they somehow beat her to that defector and kill them?

She couldn't risk it. This was her line on Shaun, on her son. Right now, the only person she trusted was the one who was going with her; Hancock... and even he didn't know exactly why they were going.

Granted, he hadn't asked.

“... You're sure about this?” Preston quested quietly.

She scoffed. “... barely.” She answered back. “But it's the only way forward I have right now.”

She'd already decided on a direction. Her doubts didn't matter anymore.

“Then I suppose the only thing to do is wish you luck.” He sighed, turning to face her and taking a hand off the stock of his laser rifle to offer it to her. She, in kind, turned to him and took it, sharing a firm shake. “Whatever you're facing, if there's anyone who can survive it, it's you. You already provisioned?”

“Been buying out all the Rad Away and Rad-X I can find.” She confirmed. “Cleaned out every trader between here and Diamond City. Tomorrow morning I take all the lead I've collected and upgrade the power armor to withstand the radiation... and then we'll be suiting up and heading out.” She paused, withdrawing her hand from his. There was something else that had to be said; something she'd been hoping to save until they were on their way out, so there'd be no space to argue about it... but now was probably the kinder time to say it. “Garvey, if I don't come back--”

“You're coming back.” He interrupted.

“If I don't,” She pressed. “You'll be back in charge of the Minute Men. You can't hesitate from that. We've got enough supplies to last a day out there-- maybe two or three if we find a place to shelter that's not soaked in rads, like a cave or a pre-war bomb shelter that's somehow intact. If I don't come back to Sanctuary within that time? You need to take over properly and keep up the fight.”

He was quiet. He didn't like it.

“... I don't know if I can live up to what you've done for us, Paige.” He admitted, softly. “But... if it comes to that, I'll do my best by you.”

“... that's all we can do out here, Preston.” She affirmed in kind. “I know you're the man for the job.”

“Let's try not to find out.” He rebutted.

That time, she let out a faint laugh. “Don't worry.” She told him. “I'll be doing my best, too.”

__________

Chapter One: You are here Chapter Two: [hasn’t been posted to Tumblr yet, will add link when I’ve got it up... oor you could just go read the story so far on Fanfiction XD]

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider reblogging it to help me find a wider audience! <3

#Fallout 4 #f!sole survivor #sole survivor #hancock x sole survivor #John Hancock #Hancock #Loving Stupid #fanfiction #fallout 4 fanfiction #female sole survivor #Paige #Paige Argot

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edmund-valks · 4 years ago

Text

Ilandreline - A Compound Beginning

(( Previously: The Call ))

"There's a hole in the world, dear girl, and not the good kind. It leads to a place the living shouldn't be, and lets them get there in a way that shouldn't happen. I hate to send you off, but you're the only one I trust to be adaptable. Everyone else is too sure they understand everything to realize they're fools.

"The whole situation is a puzzle -- a deadly one. Examine the pieces, Lina, find the edges. See how they fit together, how this world connects. Learn the rules that govern there, figure out how to break them. Stay alive, too, and come back safely."

She'd never seen the older woman so uncertain. It warmed and scared her at once. "Is it really where the dead go?" The specifics of her family's cosmology were still hazy, and Ilandreline didn't know which had been verified versus assumed.

"Only some of them, child. Enough, I think, to make it difficult."

"Will I see family there?" The possibility was very mixed given the number of relatives she'd had to avoid in the interests of personal safety. Having to kill the already dead seemed… difficult, even -- or especially -- in the place where souls went.

"Not if they were sent off properly. The Great Dark calls us home, not some bizarre 'afterlife'."

"But isn't there a cycle of things?"

"Of course there is, but it's not that literal. We don't die, hang out a bit, and then come back. We become a part of the Endless Night, our souls rejoined to the very fabric of all creation. Perhaps pieces of us will once again be spun into a new person, but it will not be us."

Ilandreline considered for a moment, nodding only once she'd worked through the implications. Their gods were creatures of ending and dissolution; it made sense that souls gifted to them would not be returned in a recognizable form. She wondered what that might be like, to be unravelled to one's components. It was recycling on a cosmic level. Fascinating to think about, even if she had doubts about wanting it for herself. "I hadn't thought about that. Kinda neat. There aren't any papers on that already are there?"

Aurelaine chortled. "Not the kind you want. You'll have to gather the data yourself, I think. Good thing you'll be closer than any of us have ever been, eh? Should be enough to keep you from getting bored doing the rest of what I've asked."

"Good point." Someone else might've argued their commitment to family always came first, but she had no delusions on that front. Sure, she didn't want to disappoint her grandmother, and wouldn't have wanted to even if that wasn't an often fatal experience, but she needed mental stimulation to do her best work. Sounded like she'd have plenty. "I guess the only thing left to ask is how I'm getting there. I don't think anyone in Icecrown wants me there, and Orgrimmar's portal network isn't exactly open for tourists right now, so…" Ila trailed off, waiting patiently for the answer she was sure was coming.

"Ah, that. Yes. Well, I'm afraid you're going to have to do part of that work yourself." That was her self-amused smile showing now, not the happy one. "I've acquired a diagram of the circle used to tap into the breach atop Icecrown, but we'll need to know how to adapt our own paths to reach there."

That perked her up immediately. "Really?! That's wonderful! Where is it, I want to get started right away and-"

"Lina. I know you're excited but I need you to stop for a moment. Look at me." Granny Laine's gaze was at its most piercing. "This is extremely dangerous, all of it. Start to finish, none of this can be taken lightly. We can't afford to lose you. I can't afford to lose you, either. If something happens to you out there… you're on your own. You'll be beyond my reach. Understood?"

Solemnity draped itself over her enthusiasm, a damping force as efficient as a rubber grip on a wrench. She'd be more on her own than ever, possibly with no way back until she could make one. Ilandreline chewed her lip, running through the possibilities. Finally she nodded. "I understand. And I won't let you down."

"I know, dear girl, but I need more than that. I need you to promise you'll come back."

She grinned then, hiding the trepidation she felt behind the warm love she had for her grandmother. "I will, Granny. You have my word."

***

There were paths only a select few could walk, and of those even fewer did so safely. One such path was that of the Eldest's Apprentice. Another was found in certain shadows that were far deeper than they let on.

The latter was where Ilandreline's feet found themselves. She stared up at the peculiar tree, an imbricated mass formed by many trunks twisted into one. Oh. That's a metaphor, isn't it? The thought hadn't occurred to her before. Not much had, in fairness; she'd grown up with the old tree as a fixture of life. They'd all learned not to play near it if you ever wanted to come home again, but she hadn't connected that with why its fruit was reserved for very specific uses. At its base, veiled behind its gnarled roots, was the beginning of the darkest road.

She'd traveled it before, of course. There was no faster way to travel great distances unless you could make your own portals. Which she could have done if only she'd had the slightest sensitivity to the arcane. Not that she was bitter or anything but… Stop that, she chided herself. Sure, a portal was beyond her to create, but she knew more about planar geometries than anyone else in her family, probably more than most mages in the world. And after days of nonstop work, that knowledge had prepared her, brought her here.

Ilandreline couldn't stop herself from grinning at that. She'd started with only three knowns and had made a map. Where others would use portals already made, she had built her family's passage to the Shadowlands, a place none of them should ever end up. She'd drawn up the requirements for an activating charm and with the Eldest's backing had received a ring that would do the job. As far as she knew, no one had ever tried to map the void gradients of three coterminous planes, much less with the intent of using one to pass between the other two. Maybe she'd publish it someday, after scrubbing the specifics out entirely. The general solution wouldn't open her family to uncomfortable questions if she did it right.

"Here we go, I guess." It was more to herself than the small audience gathered to see her off. Still, she found herself looking back to take in what might be the last time she saw her home or family. Granny Laine was there, of course, radiating confidence and authority. Ilandreline's mother, Mellura'thel, stood to her left, coldly distant, possibly worried. And there was Von on the other side, the only one smiling, though she seemed uncertain if that was the right expression for the moment.

"Don't worry," she told them, struggling to project her normal confidence that everything would turn out fine, "I'll get this sorted soon enough. Just don't tear the gate down on me, okay? I don't want to have to revise the whole trail while I'm walking it."

Only Aurelaine responded, striding forward with an energy at odds with her venerable appearance. "Don't worry, child. So long as Darkness remains, so will we." She stopped very close to Ila, straightening up with visible effort to look her in the eye.

"I can see you're beginning to understand now," she spoke softly, barely loud enough for her granddaughter to hear. "You thought you'd started on your way already, but now you see this is it. You already know I trust you'll do what needs doing, just as you know I've demanded your safe return. But now I need to say just one more thing."

Aurelaine, Speaker of the Great Dark, architect of their family's faith and power, drew a small pouch from within her robes, pressing it into Ilandreline's hand. "I made these for you. Think of me when you eat them, and remember your dear old granny loves and misses you. You've always been my favourite, little Lina. Be safe."

The sudden sting of tears took her by surprise. She hurriedly stuff the bag of cookies into a pocket, blinking the wetness away before someone else might see. "I will. And I promise to make you proud. I'll-"

"That's enough, dear. You don't need to say anymore, and it'll just make it harder if you do." Her wrinkles and creases deepened until she was smiling. "Now stop dilly-dallying and get on your way. The rest of us have work to get back to."

Off-balance, Ilandreline failed to say anything at all. She did manage to return the wink, though. With a nod, the youngest of the assembled Glimmerbows turned away, putting one foot in front of the other until the darkness beneath the greatest voidplum tree swallowed her entirely.

#ilandreline #ilandreline glimmerbow #fence macabre #wow rp #warcraft rp

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narrativaltendencies · 4 years ago

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Mason Jar Utopias

They are waiting at your restored shiplap table, their faces beautiful and contoured, glowing with the internal light of serenity. "Hello, neighbor," they say, as you hesitate at the threshold of the back door. Is it too late to run? It is always too late to run. Fleetingly, you hope – you pray – they are ignorant of your sin, but the object of your guilt has been moved from the quaint three-legged table in the foyer to the center of your kitchen table, condemning you silently from its seat on your Dutch tulip crate centerpiece.

They smile, hands clasped around small mason jars of espresso, crema rich and untouched like the Garden of Eden. "Have a seat, friend." They pat the table, which was reclaimed from an abandoned school last year and painted buttercup-yellow. There aren’t schools anymore, not here, not like there used to be. "We were just dropping by to see how you were and noticed a few little things deviating from your Contract."

You swallow, stepping inside to set your recycled burlap bag on the kitchen counter, green onion stalks trembling gently over the hem. You attempt to measure your breaths to your pulse and find this immediately unsustainable due to the latter’s pace. "Of course. Thank you. Can I get you anything? Some fresh hummus from the market? Apple-roasted pecans?"

"No, no, this won't take too long. Thank you for your hospitality." They watch you with shining bright eyes as you sit across from them, palms sweating onto the knees of your canvas pants, reclaimed from the detritus of the old meatpacking factory that sits like a tumor outside the fence. You wish fleetingly to be there instead, rusting alongside ancient mesh cages and long-decayed feathers.

They set their espresso on the table and lean forward, hands clasped, brows wrinkled, lips beautifully pursed. "We noticed on the way in that your welcome mat is a bit ragged, don't you think? And your wreath-" one of them issues a tinkling fairy-bell laugh, glass and fragile. It tickles your eardrums with a warning resonance. "It still has pinecones and plaid, and it's March. We would suggest something with soft pastels, for the upcoming vernal holiday, with lavender sprigs. We know you prefer herbal scents."

You your automatic response that pastels inherently are soft, and that the adjective may be trimmed. That is not your life any longer, shucking sentences of their surplus words, stripping the chaff for the wheat. "Of course." Your laugh is a rasping imitation of theirs, the glass after it shatters. "I'll drop by the Silo before my church group tonight. Of course." Beneath the table, you cross your fingers that the wreaths are less expensive this year. Your Silo credits stretch thin after the incident with the lawnmower and petunia bed. You still have blisters from the trowel, aches in your low back from hunching on your knees in the dirt, stabbing through the mulch over and over again with a frozen smile for the tourists. If you find the cheapest wreath – no, not the cheapest, they'll be watching, mustn’t be stingy – a mid-priced wreath and rely on unseasonably early fruits from your garden, you might last the month.

"Good, good." They smile, patting your hand across the table. One of them takes a small sip of espresso, lips coming away unstained. "We know you come in and out the back so often it would be easy to forget the wreath. We've all been there."

You doubt they have harbored even a speck of dust on the abstract bronze candelabras gracing their home, that seed from which the Town blossoms, but you smother the thought, lest a vestige flicker across your face. "Yes, I prefer coming through the garage." You grasp for the phrasing of the promotional material you read so long ago, back when you thought this beautiful, curated life was for you and that the beautiful curators were human. "It allows less visual interruption from the street view, and if I may say, I believe our street has had a top showing this year. The Davidsons' tiered beds alone must be breaking viewer records. They've had at least a dozen visitors today asking how they grew their rose bushes so large." You are aware you're rambling, scraping for their approval, anything to distract from that damned conviction in the middle of your table.

One of them purses their lips, forehead crinkling as if you've offered them saltines topped with Cheez-Whiz with generic Capri-Sun on the side (you realize with a vague pang that you can't recall the taste of Capri-Sun anymore, it’s all locally brewed kimchi and pressed fig juice), or punted one of their rescue kittens over a fence. They gesture to the plastic-wrapped candle in the tray. "Did we fail you somehow? Was there a shortage at the Silo? We can't imagine what other reason you would have for this. It's-" they press their fingertips to their mouth. "Store brand vanilla pumpkin? In March? We don't understand. Help us understand."

It is a demand sheathed in a plea. Your stomach throws itself head-first down a well. This is it. Your reckoning. You stare at the warps in the table, shoulders dropping. "I - no. No, of course you didn't. This is my fault. I was lazy."

The other one reaches across, resting a gentle hand on your forearm. You feel their underlying strength, the iron beneath hands softly calloused from replacing foundations and installing cabinets, from stocking the Silo with iron-wrought lamps and soft gingham pillows and shiplap tables, offered gently to tourists who wish to take a memento of this quiet, glossy place, required by contract written in blood to residents.

"You know the rules about sourcing your goods outside the Silo. We know it can seem restrictive, we do, but it keeps our aesthetic coherent. Clean. Locally-sourced. This-" They glance at the object of your disgrace, innocuous next to your sleek ceramic salt-and-pepper shakers, martialed like soldiers in the crate. "This is a flaw. Any sharp-eyed viewer would see it stepping into your foyer. People come here to escape. To rest. To reside for a few hours in a simple and beautiful place. To aspire and ream. Details like this shatter the Experience. Do you see? This isn't about us. It's about the visitors. You wouldn't go to Colonial Williamsburg and see a schoolmarm on her cell phone, would you?"

You visited Colonial Williamsburg in middle school and saw an off-duty tallow candlemaker kicked up against a barn smoking a joint, but you strangle the response with a flex of your vocal cords. That was another life. Another you. From the drab march of seasons before they restored you from gray suburbia like an old sanctuary window from the dump, sanding you down and painting you fresh and buffing you til you gleamed and shone, the thinnest, finest glass.

"I just – I thought–" You struggle for words. That hand on your arm is Damoclean. "I was visiting my sister and we went to the grocery store. It's – it's only a statewide chain, so I thought that would be close enough." It sounds reasonable when you say it that way, but you dare to look up. They are silent. Watching with owl-tilted heads. Eyes fixed and waiting. "I was incorrect. I see that." You swallow, real tears rising to your eyes. "Let me fix it. I will go right now to the Silo and fix this."

Smiles break across their faces again, the gentle sun after a thunderstorm. "Oh, there is no need." One of them reaches into their bag. You still, breath caught in your chest. They extract a silver sphere the size of a grapefruit, uncapping it and holding it to your nose. "Here," they say. Their eyes are the depths of a silent well. "Breathe."

You inhale against your will and blink. You relax, and your world shifts. They are here and they are beautiful, gracing your home with their presence and their gift, a grace to rectify your mistakes. You smile, the tears rising again to your eyes as your heart burns with gratitude. "A gentle lilac, fortified by a note of jasmine, sharpened by traces of amber. Soy. Slow-burning."

Their smiles are so wide you think for a moment their faces will split open at the seams (You inhale the candle again and laugh at yourself. There are no seams. Of course there are no seams). "Excellent! You really did get a lot from that workshop. It was so popular we'll have to run it again."

Your own face hurts as you beam back at them. This world is shapely and coherent, each piece created for the other and fitted together. They are only here to curate, lovingly, to file a jutting edge. "Of course! I would love to volunteer for it."

They set the candle in the Dutch Tulip tray - how artful its seams! wholesome and perfect its grain! - and clasp their hands. You didn't see them remove the odious grocery store candle, but it has vanished as if it never existed. "We would love that." The hand leaves your shoulder, and you are saddened by its absence. They stand in unison, gathering their scarves. "Come by the Silo and sign up. Marissa always loves to see you."

You smile at the thought of entering that haven, that collection of strange beauty. It is a paradise and you are among the blessed chosen. "Thank you. Of course I will. I can't wait to be there."

You don't remember whether they leave through the front or back. The only trace of their presence is the clean and sparkling mason jars on your table. All you know is that some time later, you are alone in the warmth of your perfect home, happy and relaxed, the perfume of the unlit candle filling your heart with light.

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